Everyone has a kitchen drawer. It's the one place that we all toss the useful, but hard to categorize stuff in our lives. This is my literary equivelant. I have all sorts of little bunnies that are too small to go out on their own. Some will be longer. Some will be random. Some will connect to others. If they spark an idea for you for a longer fict, go for it, just credit my spark? This will update on a complete non schedule, mostly as these little bunnies dart out from under my netbook. Does this make sense?

Reviews embolden tiny bunnies people!

DISCLAIMER: Tiny, cautious bunnies, we all know are mine, nothing else, sorry to say!

THE VIEW

People stare. It was one of those bizarre quirks of human nature. People are fascinated by each other, but in our society, as in most, staring at someone is considered rude. A blind person has no idea if they are the object of steady regard. So, apparently, it was universally decided long ago that staring at a blind person is not rude.

But he always knew. Even before he was blind, before he was agent, before his life took this course, he had strong self awareness. It was probably one the reasons he was so good at his job. He could assess a situation and process so much faster than the average person. Before the dog, (and though he tried not to divide his life in to those two sections, he did) he would used mostly his vision. But his other senses had been more acute. It had made the adjustment slightly easier.

His own interests and his cover in the geek world had made his hearing years ago, sharper. He had always had good headphones. Music, video games, intel, they all processed faster without outside distractions. The sense of smell had saved his life a few times. When something was about to go wrong, you could almost smell it. He would get teased about his 'spidey senses' by the guys in his training classes and later by his unit. But no one minded when it kept them from disaster.

When someone started staring, he knew. Most people were polite enough to notice his blindness and look slightly longer with mild interest. It was human nature, something he understood all too well. Then there were those who were truly curious. How did he manage? Would he drop the plate of food? Would he trip? He had been told he didn't move as most blind people. He was too confident, especially in his own environment.

He felt the weight of the stares. For the most part, he ignored it. If he was feeling in a Puckish mood, he might make a joke. He knew the joke could either embarrass or lighten the mood. It depended on the moment. Some people were mortified at being caught and called on it. Some denied their stare. Sometimes it led to an interesting conversation, especially, if the person was female, young and attractive. Auggie was no fool.

At work, they had stopped staring. New people stared at first. They were usually brought up short by their coworkers. Women stared. He didn't mind that. He possessed enough self awareness to know it wasn't his looks. Yeah, he was decent looking, but he wasn't a guy most women would notice that strongly.

Tasha had looked, but was embarrassed to be caught. She had known him before and would be compelled to catalogue all changes. This one was huge. Liza Hearn stared. He wasn't sure if it was lust or a reporters need to know all things. If he was undressed, he was pretty sure it was the former. He kept himself in shape. When you are using your body to help you see, it needs to be in peak condition. He had to maintain that sense of balance and co-ordination. It was also hard to ignore all the training that had been beaten into him. When you had older brothers, staying fast and powerful was true self preservation. He knew his body looked good. He knew Liza enjoyed the view. She was forthright in her gaze and her lust. There was something pretty sexy about a woman watching you as an object of lust. But he always knew when she did.

Annie would tell him she was looking. Her curiosity was unabashed. She was curious about everything at the agency. Staring at the blind guy working in a world of spies made sense to her. Somehow, he didn't mind. Her staring never felt tempered with pity. She would just watch him work to see how he managed. It was helpful. She had learned early how to walk with him. He rarely had awkward moments with her. When they walked together, he almost felt he didn't need a cane. They so seamlessly moved together. He trusted her.

So, when they chatted in his office, he knew she was looking. He knew she was absorbing all the visual intel. He knew she was watching him for unspoken clues. He could hear her breathing change if he was close enough. He knew she would barrage him with questions.

But lately, the feel of her stares had changed. Since she came back from Sri Lanka, everything about her had changed. Some of that spark had been dimmed. She spoke more carefully. He listened to those changes and wished Ben Mercer to a special spot in Hell.

But over time, she had lightened up again somewhat. The spark was slowly returning. He was waiting for that spark to be over one of the best and brightest here at the agency. But while she flirted and laughed, she never gave over. It was around then he really noticed the changes. Her silences when he spoke of other women were deeper. She was forcing herself to laugh. He could hear that. He could feel the difference in her gaze. She was looking, but he somehow felt she was looking at him not as a buddy, but as a man.

He wondered if she wanted to see more. Some days he wondered what her stare would feel like without the clothes to block it.

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