Hit for Six
Aug. 1st, 2009 10:52 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
greengerbil.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
discoveredinaljHere we go - written at great speed (for me), and totally unbeta-d, so many apologies for repetition, mis-spellings, dodgy paragraphs, etc. A product of the complete washout at Edgbaston today, which meant I had to make up my own cricket match!
So... here is the Fourth Innings,
Hit for Six
Thought this was an obbo, not the Queen’s bleedin’ garden party!
“Good shot!”
Scattered applause as the dark red ball rocketed up the slope to hit the white-painted fence with a loud Crack! Well-bred public-school accents... bright red-and-yellow-striped blazers and ties... champagne, cucumber sandwiches, beer, hot sun and the crack of leather on willow...
Growling, Doyle swung on his heel and stalked away from the low picket fence separating the hoi polloi from the MCC Members’ Stand, feeling the cool shadow fall across his shoulders like a benison after the hot sun blazing across the vivid green of the beautifully-shorn outfield. It was the first Saturday in July, which meant of course that this was the traditional Lord’s Test match, and for once the English weather was behaving itself. Unlike his cricket-mad partner!
“Ray? Oi – Doyle!”
Bodie’s rather less patrician tones brought Doyle to an abrupt stop before he went barrelling out into the crowds thronging the concourse behind the pavilion, and he turned to see his partner trotting towards him with a concerned expression on his face.
“What’s the problem, mate?”
Doyle was just drawing breath to answer when a yell of “HOWZAT??” from the pitch brought Bodie’s head snapping round, and he groaned as a tide of polite applause heralded the return of a batsman to the pavilion.
“Bugger – that’s Kim Hughes gone and I’ve missed it! Ah, come on, Ray – what’s up with you, then?”
The sudden tinge of Scouse told Doyle that Bodie’s tolerance for his partner’s moods was rapidly reaching breaking point, and he shrugged angrily.
“All this crap,” he said, waving his hand vaguely around him. “I mean, fuckin’ ‘ell, Bodie, how likely is it that Bremner’s goin’ to make the drop here, of all places? And in the middle of a Test match?”
“None at all,” Bodie agreed promptly, “Which means that we get to see a Test match – an Ashes Test match, Doyle – on the Cow’s budget. So why can’t you just enjoy it and stop bloody whinging!”
Doyle sighed. Bodie was almost visibly twitching, clearly desperate to get back to their privileged seats right next to the pavilion which provided a perfect vantage point to observe George Armitage Bremner of MI5, cricket fanatic, member of the MCC, and suspected double agent... but their position also provided the two CI5 agents with a perfect view of the pitch and the play thereon.
And while Bodie might love cricket – had in fact tried to persuade Doyle weeks ago that they should get tickets for this very match – Doyle wasn’t so keen.
“Ah, come on, Ray! I know you hate cricket -”
“- s’not cricket I hate,” snapped Doyle, reluctantly allowing himself to be tugged back towards their seats, “It’s everythin’ that goes with it. All that upper-class, old school tie, Gentlemen and Players -”
Suddenly realising that his voice had risen and that he was attracting some glares – which he didn’t mind - and several amused looks – which he did – he clamped his jaw shut, planted himself on the folding chair tucked in next to the fence, folded his arms and glared unseeingly out over the bright green sward in front of him.
“Yeah, yeah,” muttered Bodie, obviously not listening. He was watching the next Australian batsman take guard and consulting his programme. “Hey, they’ve sent in a night-watchman already!”
“Great...”
Doyle’s muttered comment was the final straw, and Bodie turned on his sulking companion with a face like thunder.
“Look -” he hissed, “You hate cricket – fair enough. I happen to be enjoying myself – or I would be, if you weren’t working so bloody hard at ruining it! This beats being stuck in the buggy-boo, or some draughty attic, or having to breathe Anson’s cigar smoke all day – so just shut it, all right?”
Doyle held Bodie’s eyes for a moment – then, seeing the genuine disappointment behind his partner’s annoyance, he blinked and looked away. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “It’s just – I ‘ad other plans for today.”
“Well, you can take ‘er out next week,” snapped Bodie, looking back at the pitch after a swift glance to his left had confirmed that Bremner was still as engrossed in the play as he had been all day.
Doyle made no response to this sally. Instead he shifted a little so that he could see Bremner with his peripheral vision but still watch the cricket... which he did want to see really, he grudgingly admitted. It was a Test match. And it was against Australia... wasn’t fair to take his annoyance out on Bodie, either. How was Bodie supposed to know that those other plans had involved him?
There was a quick intake of breath from Bodie, in unison with the rest of the crowd, as the new batsman narrowly avoided playing the ball on to his stumps, and Doyle sighed – quietly. Had everything planned, too, he mourned. A day out on the bikes, down to that great little pub in Weybridge, an’ then back to my place with a Chinese to watch the cricket highlights this evening... and Do It.
Make my move.
I’m not going to put it off any longer, and there’s no point waiting for Bodie to do anything – the great lummox. I never thought I’d see him scared of anything, but I reckon he’s scared of – this.
Whatever this is -
“Look out!”
Bodie’s yell had Doyle diving for cover only to find himself landing slap on top of his hysterically laughing partner as a cricket ball hit the fence right next to where Doyle had been sitting moments before. The ball ricocheted away with half the crowd chasing it, while Doyle, finding himself lying face to face with – and on - a helplessly-giggling Bodie, decided to make hay in the evening sunshine and stayed right where he was.
Things were looking up, he decided. In fact – he wriggled a little, and grinned to himself – a couple of things were looking up...
Bodie had stopped laughing and was staring suspiciously at the cheerful face above him. “Er... Doyle?” he said tentatively, “You’re getting a bit heavy, mate...”
“Yeah?” Doyle considered staying put, then – reluctantly – decided that it was time to move. And – judging by what he’d just felt – it was past time that he made a move, as well...
“When do Jax and Anson take over?” he enquired innocently as he got to his feet and gave Bodie a hand up. Bodie grabbed the proffered help and heaved himself upright, then blinked at his partner.
“At close of play, around six thirty, just like the Cow said this morning.” He sighed and shook his head sadly. “It must be your age – I’ve heard that memory’s the first to go.”
Doyle hit him half-heartedly as they both resumed their seats. “Just checking... if we do get away at a decent time, d’you fancy comin’ back to my place? Chinese in front of the telly?”
He added temptingly, “We could watch the cricket highlights - you could catch all the bits you missed...”
Bodie was watching him and Doyle, to his own annoyance, felt himself flushing. Hastily he looked away, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Bodie’s eyebrows arch quizzically. Shit, he thought. He’s sussed it – and he doesn’t want to, he’s going to say no, I know he is...
There was a pause that seemed, to Doyle, to last for an eternity. They were standing in a bubble of silence, inside their own transparent force field, and all at once the atmosphere between them was charged with tension.
Oh, God. I’ve done it now...
Swallowing, his throat suddenly dry, Doyle made himself meet Bodie’s eyes. And then - Doyle swallowed again - Bodie leaned forward so that his face was bare inches away.
“Catch all the bits I’ve missed? Oh, I don’t think I’ve missed anything important, have I, Ray?” he murmured, his voice like velvet and his eyes holding Doyle's.
Doyle shivered. Who said blue was cold? he wondered dazedly. Bodie’s eyes were blue – blazing blue, a furnace he could drown in...
“Have I? Ray?”
“Uh... yeah?”
“Never mind. Sit down and watch the cricket, and then we’ll go and get that takeaway.”
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Title: Hit for Six
Author: SAC
Slash or Gen: Pre-Slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: Yes please
Disclaimer: I really, really wish they belonged to me, but they don’t. I just like to play with them every now and then.
So... here is the Fourth Innings,
Thought this was an obbo, not the Queen’s bleedin’ garden party!
“Good shot!”
Scattered applause as the dark red ball rocketed up the slope to hit the white-painted fence with a loud Crack! Well-bred public-school accents... bright red-and-yellow-striped blazers and ties... champagne, cucumber sandwiches, beer, hot sun and the crack of leather on willow...
Growling, Doyle swung on his heel and stalked away from the low picket fence separating the hoi polloi from the MCC Members’ Stand, feeling the cool shadow fall across his shoulders like a benison after the hot sun blazing across the vivid green of the beautifully-shorn outfield. It was the first Saturday in July, which meant of course that this was the traditional Lord’s Test match, and for once the English weather was behaving itself. Unlike his cricket-mad partner!
“Ray? Oi – Doyle!”
Bodie’s rather less patrician tones brought Doyle to an abrupt stop before he went barrelling out into the crowds thronging the concourse behind the pavilion, and he turned to see his partner trotting towards him with a concerned expression on his face.
“What’s the problem, mate?”
Doyle was just drawing breath to answer when a yell of “HOWZAT??” from the pitch brought Bodie’s head snapping round, and he groaned as a tide of polite applause heralded the return of a batsman to the pavilion.
“Bugger – that’s Kim Hughes gone and I’ve missed it! Ah, come on, Ray – what’s up with you, then?”
The sudden tinge of Scouse told Doyle that Bodie’s tolerance for his partner’s moods was rapidly reaching breaking point, and he shrugged angrily.
“All this crap,” he said, waving his hand vaguely around him. “I mean, fuckin’ ‘ell, Bodie, how likely is it that Bremner’s goin’ to make the drop here, of all places? And in the middle of a Test match?”
“None at all,” Bodie agreed promptly, “Which means that we get to see a Test match – an Ashes Test match, Doyle – on the Cow’s budget. So why can’t you just enjoy it and stop bloody whinging!”
Doyle sighed. Bodie was almost visibly twitching, clearly desperate to get back to their privileged seats right next to the pavilion which provided a perfect vantage point to observe George Armitage Bremner of MI5, cricket fanatic, member of the MCC, and suspected double agent... but their position also provided the two CI5 agents with a perfect view of the pitch and the play thereon.
And while Bodie might love cricket – had in fact tried to persuade Doyle weeks ago that they should get tickets for this very match – Doyle wasn’t so keen.
“Ah, come on, Ray! I know you hate cricket -”
“- s’not cricket I hate,” snapped Doyle, reluctantly allowing himself to be tugged back towards their seats, “It’s everythin’ that goes with it. All that upper-class, old school tie, Gentlemen and Players -”
Suddenly realising that his voice had risen and that he was attracting some glares – which he didn’t mind - and several amused looks – which he did – he clamped his jaw shut, planted himself on the folding chair tucked in next to the fence, folded his arms and glared unseeingly out over the bright green sward in front of him.
“Yeah, yeah,” muttered Bodie, obviously not listening. He was watching the next Australian batsman take guard and consulting his programme. “Hey, they’ve sent in a night-watchman already!”
“Great...”
Doyle’s muttered comment was the final straw, and Bodie turned on his sulking companion with a face like thunder.
“Look -” he hissed, “You hate cricket – fair enough. I happen to be enjoying myself – or I would be, if you weren’t working so bloody hard at ruining it! This beats being stuck in the buggy-boo, or some draughty attic, or having to breathe Anson’s cigar smoke all day – so just shut it, all right?”
Doyle held Bodie’s eyes for a moment – then, seeing the genuine disappointment behind his partner’s annoyance, he blinked and looked away. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “It’s just – I ‘ad other plans for today.”
“Well, you can take ‘er out next week,” snapped Bodie, looking back at the pitch after a swift glance to his left had confirmed that Bremner was still as engrossed in the play as he had been all day.
Doyle made no response to this sally. Instead he shifted a little so that he could see Bremner with his peripheral vision but still watch the cricket... which he did want to see really, he grudgingly admitted. It was a Test match. And it was against Australia... wasn’t fair to take his annoyance out on Bodie, either. How was Bodie supposed to know that those other plans had involved him?
There was a quick intake of breath from Bodie, in unison with the rest of the crowd, as the new batsman narrowly avoided playing the ball on to his stumps, and Doyle sighed – quietly. Had everything planned, too, he mourned. A day out on the bikes, down to that great little pub in Weybridge, an’ then back to my place with a Chinese to watch the cricket highlights this evening... and Do It.
Make my move.
I’m not going to put it off any longer, and there’s no point waiting for Bodie to do anything – the great lummox. I never thought I’d see him scared of anything, but I reckon he’s scared of – this.
Whatever this is -
“Look out!”
Bodie’s yell had Doyle diving for cover only to find himself landing slap on top of his hysterically laughing partner as a cricket ball hit the fence right next to where Doyle had been sitting moments before. The ball ricocheted away with half the crowd chasing it, while Doyle, finding himself lying face to face with – and on - a helplessly-giggling Bodie, decided to make hay in the evening sunshine and stayed right where he was.
Things were looking up, he decided. In fact – he wriggled a little, and grinned to himself – a couple of things were looking up...
Bodie had stopped laughing and was staring suspiciously at the cheerful face above him. “Er... Doyle?” he said tentatively, “You’re getting a bit heavy, mate...”
“Yeah?” Doyle considered staying put, then – reluctantly – decided that it was time to move. And – judging by what he’d just felt – it was past time that he made a move, as well...
“When do Jax and Anson take over?” he enquired innocently as he got to his feet and gave Bodie a hand up. Bodie grabbed the proffered help and heaved himself upright, then blinked at his partner.
“At close of play, around six thirty, just like the Cow said this morning.” He sighed and shook his head sadly. “It must be your age – I’ve heard that memory’s the first to go.”
Doyle hit him half-heartedly as they both resumed their seats. “Just checking... if we do get away at a decent time, d’you fancy comin’ back to my place? Chinese in front of the telly?”
He added temptingly, “We could watch the cricket highlights - you could catch all the bits you missed...”
Bodie was watching him and Doyle, to his own annoyance, felt himself flushing. Hastily he looked away, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Bodie’s eyebrows arch quizzically. Shit, he thought. He’s sussed it – and he doesn’t want to, he’s going to say no, I know he is...
There was a pause that seemed, to Doyle, to last for an eternity. They were standing in a bubble of silence, inside their own transparent force field, and all at once the atmosphere between them was charged with tension.
Oh, God. I’ve done it now...
Swallowing, his throat suddenly dry, Doyle made himself meet Bodie’s eyes. And then - Doyle swallowed again - Bodie leaned forward so that his face was bare inches away.
“Catch all the bits I’ve missed? Oh, I don’t think I’ve missed anything important, have I, Ray?” he murmured, his voice like velvet and his eyes holding Doyle's.
Doyle shivered. Who said blue was cold? he wondered dazedly. Bodie’s eyes were blue – blazing blue, a furnace he could drown in...
“Have I? Ray?”
“Uh... yeah?”
“Never mind. Sit down and watch the cricket, and then we’ll go and get that takeaway.”
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Title: Hit for Six
Author: SAC
Slash or Gen: Pre-Slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: Yes please
Disclaimer: I really, really wish they belonged to me, but they don’t. I just like to play with them every now and then.
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no subject
Date: 2009-08-01 11:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-02 08:36 am (UTC)Oh really? I wonder where you got that idea *whistles*
The game doesn't really matter - except that it gave Doyle a chance to jump on Bodie!
Erm... so to speak... lol.
Thank you!