The first is inspired by a post someone made a while back saying that Illyan should have reported immediately to his second in command when he started to have things go wrong with his memory chip. And I thought, yeah, but his second in command is Haroche. So that's the story of this fic:
Illyan attempts to report his chip problems to Haroche.
The other is a ficlet as requested by twicelivedsummer here.
"Miles, what the hell are you doing up here?"
A hand seized his shoulder and twisted him hard. Admiral Miles Naismith, self-appointed, spun and jerked backwards the way Bothari had taught him in his officer's training. The man who'd grabbed him was a stranger, pale-skinned and Roman-nosed, looking at him with clear recognition on his face.
Galactics thought that Barrayarans all looked the same, but Miles was never, ever mistaken for other people. He stared up at the man, wondering if it was some connection he'd forgotten. The man's accent sounded Komarran, but faded into a pan-galactic drawl. Miles didn't know many Komarrans.
"You've got no business coming out onto the space station on your own. Where are your minders?"
Minders. Miles could see Elena and Baz across the plaza, watching him waiting here for the rendezvous. He didn't signal to them, because he suddenly saw someone else, someone at his own eye-level, not looming above him like everyone else on the station. The boy passed out of sight quickly, slipping behind a pillar almost before he could register the face. But it wasn't a face he could mistake. This Komarran's behaviour suddenly made a lot more sense.
But--Miles? Whatever was going on here, it involved him. He choked off his first instinct to tell the Komarran he'd made a mistake, and decided to play along instead. He made a small sign to Elena: on guard. She nudged Baz, who hadn't grown up in Vorkosigan House and didn't know the signals. They began to amble across the plaza, arm in arm, chatting. Elena had been teaching Baz a thing or two on the long trip to Jackson's Whole.
"I came looking for you," Miles essayed.
"You've been working on the accent, at least," the Komarran said grudgingly, and Miles realised that speaking to a Komarran, he had reverted automatically to his Barrayaran accent. But that seemed to please him. "Not bad. Come on, then. Let's get back to the hotel. We leave tomorrow."
The boy with his face was still lurking behind the pillar. Miles caught Elena's eye and looked at the pillar, and saw the moment she saw him too. She let go of Baz's arm, muttering something to him. Baz continued to ebb towards him, a bit more clumsily. Elena went up to the other Miles and smiled at him.
"Sure," Miles said easily to the Komarran. He saw the way the other Miles stared at Elena. Whoever he was, he wasn't that different from Miles. Though not many men would be upset to have Elena smiling at them. He tamped down a flash of jealousy. Elena had that one under control. He was going to go with this Komarran and find out why he wanted a Miles, with a good Barrayaran accent. Whatever was going on here, this was definitely going to be more fun than trying to get his money out of a bunch of used uterine replicator merchants.
Crossposted at https://philomytha.dreamwidth.org/164741.html. There are comments there.