I wish you would write a fic where Phrack get trapped in a closet (or similar) while snooping
Jack closes his eyes and inwardly counts to ten, trying to regulate his breathing. In and out, in and out; deep breaths, that’s the spirit -
“Really, Jack, how is any of this my fault? Do you honestly mean to suggest that I should have foreseen Miller returning home early?”
- and it’s gone. Jack opens his eyes and fixes Miss Fisher with his best glare. Unfortunately, the very impressive expression is completely wasted on the total darkness around them.
“A wardrobe, Miss Fisher?” he hisses quietly, lest they be heard, “Really? Couldn’t you think of a better place for us to hide? Something less confined, perhaps?”
The air shifts around them, her hands reach for his lapels. He feels the warmth of her skin against his chest, shudders at her breath caressing his underjaw.
“Perhaps this was my plan all along, Jack...”
Suddenly, the wardrobe seems like the perfect choice.
