Pairing: Evelyn Carnahan/Rick O'Connell
Fic Title: Never Spellbound by a Starry Sky
Genre: Post-Movie (the first one), action/adventure, humor
Why This Must Be Read: Funny adventurous fic set shortly after the first movie, where the soon-to-be-married couple, along with Jonathon, get into yet more trouble. Written in alternating first-person POV, which I normally hate, but Eve captures the voices and dialogue so perfectly that it all flows together seamlessly. I also absolutely love the humor, and Rick is just so... entertaining in his grumblings. It's got some great shippy scenes in here. ;)
"Evelyn, if you think I'm gonna let this guy keep touching my ass, you--"
I should probably interrupt to explain (particularly since the rest of the sentence isn't something I'd like to repeat in any case) that Rick was being measured for the suit he would be married in. Not that I was rigidly attached to pomp and ceremony, but I didn't think a nice, English-made suit was too much to ask. I would have preferred to wait until we got home, but then I spoke to an old friend of my father's at the consolate, who pointed out that it would be much easier for Rick to become a British citizen if we were married when we arrived.
"It is for me no great pleasure, effendi, you are assured," remarked the assistant.
"Don't call me that," growled my fiancé, fists clenched. He refuses to be addressed by that archaic term, which so many of the white Cairenes still demand as a sign of respect and deference.
"Enough!" I cried, halting him mid-step. "Now, darling, just hold still a moment longer," I placated, gesturing for the tailor and his man to get on with it. "It will all be over in a moment, and then we can go for a walk in the garden."
Rick's posture altered, almost imperceptibly, and his hands relaxed. In recent days our walks in the more secluded areas of the hotel's garden had afforded little opportunity for talk, but had involved plenty of other activities I knew he enjoyed. He flashed me that grin that he thinks is dashing and debonair, and I smiled back in spite of myself.
The tailor's assistant hesitantly resumed his work. Rick held perfectly still, but through his teeth, he calmly remarked, "If he puts so much as a finger on me again, the last thing he'll ever see is my knee coming towards his nose."
I sighed. "Do you want the suit to fit, or don't you?"
"I have plenty of clothes that fit okay--"
"Cheap clothes. Which my brother bought you. Off the rack."
"Actually, it wasn't a rack, it was more of a... camel."
"You are not helping your case, effendi," whispered the tailor's assistant, into the cuff of Rick's trousers.
Rick's affable expression never wavered as he dealt the man a swift kick to the posterior.