(I like contests, even the ones where you don't really win anything. There's been a fic battle going on at the Milady/Milord LJ, and I've been hammering out some tiny ficlets that are 500 words or less! Hence this: a depository for all the scattered ideas floating around in the cavity space some call a brain. I hope you enjoy! The first one was untitled, so I'm just going to go with the prompt.)

There's A Knot In My Chest (And Only You Can Untie Me)

He looked sharp in his tuxedo. She made a mental note that they should go to more places to find an excuse to get him into one. Such as fancy dinner parties. High roller casinos. Ummmm…. celebrity …. auctions? Her mind was drawing a blank right now. Maybe it was because his rugged face was so close to her right now, she could feel his breath on her face. Maybe it was because she was lying atop in a very compromising position, her black cocktail dress pressed against the fabric of his crisp white jacket.

Or maybe it was that gun he was holding to her head. Then again, she had a small revolver aimed squarely at his chest.

She shouldn't have been so careless. She'd been lying in wait behind the door, ready to disarm him when he entered. But immediately, she knew something was wrong. He suspected something. In that moment of uncertainty, she should've used surprise as her advantage, but before she could move he darted his hand forward, lightning quick, and they soon were rolling on the floor and reaching for their firearms. Her hair was tussled, her breathing was sharp, and her heart pounded, which she told herself was the adrenaline kicking in.

He swallowed his throat, and she watched his Adam's apple bob up and down. "There's a knot in my chest," he finally said.

She raised her eyebrows, her lips curling seductively. "And only you can untie me," she said, finishing the code phrase. With a swift graceful move, she lifted the gun barrel away. "Well met, Agent Dash."

He nodded and withdrew his own weapon. "Call me Flynn," he said, "Flynn Dash. The pleasure is all mine, Agent Gwendolyn Lottoticket." He narrowed his eyes, noticing that the woman's face was turning red. This was not a good sign. Not a good sign at all. "No. No. You can't. Annie…."

But it was too late. Annie Edison was all giggles. She collapsed on Jeff's chest, laughing. "I can't help it! These names! They're … totally … agh!"

Jeff smirked, patting Annie's back sympathetically. He looked up. "I suppose that means take six."

"I wish you two would take this more seriously," Abed said from behind the camera. "The Flynn Dash Spy Convention is in a month, and we have to submit our entry for Best Fan Vid at least a week ahead of time."

Jeff sighed, picking himself up off the ground. He offered his hand to Annie, who smiled as he lifted her up. "Christ, Abed," he said, "when did you start getting into off-brand James Bond rip-offs, anyway?"

"I don't know," Annie said, straightening Jeff's tie, "at least the wardrobe's a huge improvement over the Inspector Spacetime stuff. Seriously, though, did you just happen to have a white tux? It's a nice look for you."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Miss Lottoticket," said Jeff, winking, "but don't stop trying."