Discovered on a Silent Night - 2 Jan
Jan. 2nd, 2015 07:32 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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discoveredinaljI just want to say HAPPY NEW YEAR to everyone in this community and to thank everyone who has participated in this challenge - it's been so lovely having so much incredible Pros stuff in the run up Christmas. This is a really special fandom. ♥
And here is my offering! This is part of a much bigger story that I'm sorry I haven't managed to get done in time, but hopefully you'll still enjoy. Happy 2015, lovelies!
They hit the oncoming mob running at a rate of knots, fighting their way through a wave of fast-moving stripes.
'Take the east stand!' Bodie bellowed over the growing din as they outstripped the officers that accompanied them, throwing an arm in that direction whilst moving entirely in the other. Doyle nodded, and shouldered his way as fast as he could past a father and his two grown-up sons, struggling to pass the pie stall.
Alarm moved quick in a crowd; fights were beginning to break out as people lost their patience with those in front, who were being crushed against the turnstiles. As he squeezed past, Doyle saw a big burly bugger in a santa hat being thumped on the top of the back out of sheer frustration by a bespectacled accountant-type.
'Easy, now. Nice and easy,' he cried in his most official, most policemanly of tones – the one that Bodie had charitably said made him sound like a flight attendant - taking out his ID and raising it above sea-level. 'Calmly make your way to the exits in an orderly fashion, please. Plenty of time, folks. That's it, now...'
The bobbies had managed, by this point, to reach the outskirts of the crush, and followed Doyle's lead. He continued this soothing chant until he was able to clatter up the now-clear concrete steps. He registered the strange sight of a thousand glinting empty red chairs up either end, now covered in debris and bits of abandoned flags and tinsel.
A dark blur moved over the other side of the pitch. Bodie, whipping quick up the concrete lower stands, his arms wind-milling slightly as he turned the corner of the railings and headed up to the West stand.
The lads in blue caught up with him. He had all four of them, fuck. 'You, get your arse over that grass and give him a hand!' The panicked sound of his voice range in the frosty air.
To his credit, there was no dumb look: the youngest one went immediately flying off a sharp diagonal towards the pitch, taking the barrier with a hurdle done at an impressive speed.
Some part of Doyle's mind idly squirrelled away the lad's name for future reference (Fox), while his mouth barked the rest of the orders: 'You, do the stand on that side. You, the stand here. And you – follow me. GO!'
They scattered and split, and Doyle charged down the stairs, leaving the constable to start on the top row. 'Don't touch anything!' he remembered to yell at their retreating backs. Across the length of the pitch, he could see Bodie – reduced to a black blob in the distance, bobbing up and down behind the red like a flying fish trying to make for the sun.
Please. Please.
As he reached the mid-section, he threw himself down on to the frosty concrete and scanned up the filthy underside of the chairs, crusted over with decades of old pie, cold Bovril and goodness knew what. He ran his finger frantically along the sticky edge of concrete step, just to be sure, and tried not to think about what might be lurking there.
Fox took it at a pace but that's him still a minute down...
He scrambled on his hands and knees as fast as he could in such an awkward position to the end of the row, then swung himself around and into the next row and repeated the process.
What if that's the minute that counts?
Again and again, he swept, face growing hot in the biting chill and his heart beginning to prickle with terror.
Suddenly a electric shout. Not him.
The copper on the left, fourth stand up from the bottom, strapped to the bar at the bottom of the white railing, almost entirely hidden by the festive tinsel wound all about it. Doyle used the back of the plastic chair to jump onto the bottom step, jumped the barrier with ease, and tore across the crisp grass. A comet coming to meet him from the other side.
'Get away!' he screamed as he approached the man, who needed no second invites and dashed off up the stairs with the rest of the boys in blue.
Doyle got there first and drew out the R-T. He'd just relayed the message and was shoving it back in his pocket when Bodie landed with a thump, bright-cheeked and huffing, their Swiss Army knife already in hand.
Quick for a big lad.
'Ray, you shouldn't have,' he smirked when his dancing eyes lighted on the tinsel.
'You're bloody enjoying this.' Bastard.
'Course,' Bodie smirked, and immediately squatted down on his haunches next to where Doyle was already crouching. Crackling rub of corduroy. 'What've we got?'
'Dunno yet, do I? Come on, Steady Eddie.'
Taking his cue, Bodie handed Doyle the knife, moved gently around and eased his big fingers into the depths of the tinsel, careful not to touch the present underneath. He lifted it ever-so carefully and Doyle bent his head closer, trying to see the set-up beneath the silver fronds. He could feel Bodie's warming breath catching in the snarl of his ear.
Slowly, he traced the top of the likely wire, mind running the numbers. 'It's them, alright. Classic.'
'Oh, should be a doddle, then,' Bodie frowned, looking up briefly to squint off across the stands like a cowboy surveying the hills. 'Did they- ?'
'Yeah, cleared 'em.' He swallowed and just managed it, bracing his finger under the live one. 'Just you and me, sunshine.'
His thumb tensed against the scissors, ready to cut. He was panting.
Bodie looked him dead in the eye and Doyle's heart just stopped. 'Best way.'
SNIP.
'…. …. ….'
'Are we dead?'
'I think I might be,' Doyle's blood was banging in his ears and he was sick to the soles of his feet. It felt like his soul was trying to climb out from his skin as he raced to find the next wire.
'Over my dead body,' Bodie grunted. 'Though that's a close-run thing. There!'
'Gotcha.'
'Right, breathe in.'
SNIP.
Silence exploded into the stadium, and Doyle dropped his shaking hands down to press onto the freezing cold concrete beneath him, rocking forward, weak with relief.
Bodie, meanwhile, started giggling. Actually giggling. He disentangled his hands from the tinsel and leaned forward to grab the back of Doyle's neck, squeezing hard and giving him a rough shake, laughing in his ear. 'Bloody 'ell. Thought that was us.'
Doyle, shaking and unable to get his breathing in check, lifted his head under the pressure of his hand. Bodie was grinning as widely as his face made possible, eyes wild and jets of steam pouring from mouth. He looked utterly unhinged, mad-eyed and with his black curls standing all on end. Doyle grabbed him back, and pressed him into a hard, painful kiss, mashing their faces together.
They broke apart, gasping, Bodie's mouth hanging open and dumb and red. 'Doyle!'
'We fucking made it, Bodie.'
And a slow, searing grin spread across the face inches from his own, the hand on his neck tightening painfully as midnight eyes softened and danced.
'Merry fucking Christmas, Ray.'
And here is my offering! This is part of a much bigger story that I'm sorry I haven't managed to get done in time, but hopefully you'll still enjoy. Happy 2015, lovelies!
They hit the oncoming mob running at a rate of knots, fighting their way through a wave of fast-moving stripes.
'Take the east stand!' Bodie bellowed over the growing din as they outstripped the officers that accompanied them, throwing an arm in that direction whilst moving entirely in the other. Doyle nodded, and shouldered his way as fast as he could past a father and his two grown-up sons, struggling to pass the pie stall.
Alarm moved quick in a crowd; fights were beginning to break out as people lost their patience with those in front, who were being crushed against the turnstiles. As he squeezed past, Doyle saw a big burly bugger in a santa hat being thumped on the top of the back out of sheer frustration by a bespectacled accountant-type.
'Easy, now. Nice and easy,' he cried in his most official, most policemanly of tones – the one that Bodie had charitably said made him sound like a flight attendant - taking out his ID and raising it above sea-level. 'Calmly make your way to the exits in an orderly fashion, please. Plenty of time, folks. That's it, now...'
The bobbies had managed, by this point, to reach the outskirts of the crush, and followed Doyle's lead. He continued this soothing chant until he was able to clatter up the now-clear concrete steps. He registered the strange sight of a thousand glinting empty red chairs up either end, now covered in debris and bits of abandoned flags and tinsel.
A dark blur moved over the other side of the pitch. Bodie, whipping quick up the concrete lower stands, his arms wind-milling slightly as he turned the corner of the railings and headed up to the West stand.
The lads in blue caught up with him. He had all four of them, fuck. 'You, get your arse over that grass and give him a hand!' The panicked sound of his voice range in the frosty air.
To his credit, there was no dumb look: the youngest one went immediately flying off a sharp diagonal towards the pitch, taking the barrier with a hurdle done at an impressive speed.
Some part of Doyle's mind idly squirrelled away the lad's name for future reference (Fox), while his mouth barked the rest of the orders: 'You, do the stand on that side. You, the stand here. And you – follow me. GO!'
They scattered and split, and Doyle charged down the stairs, leaving the constable to start on the top row. 'Don't touch anything!' he remembered to yell at their retreating backs. Across the length of the pitch, he could see Bodie – reduced to a black blob in the distance, bobbing up and down behind the red like a flying fish trying to make for the sun.
Please. Please.
As he reached the mid-section, he threw himself down on to the frosty concrete and scanned up the filthy underside of the chairs, crusted over with decades of old pie, cold Bovril and goodness knew what. He ran his finger frantically along the sticky edge of concrete step, just to be sure, and tried not to think about what might be lurking there.
Fox took it at a pace but that's him still a minute down...
He scrambled on his hands and knees as fast as he could in such an awkward position to the end of the row, then swung himself around and into the next row and repeated the process.
What if that's the minute that counts?
Again and again, he swept, face growing hot in the biting chill and his heart beginning to prickle with terror.
Suddenly a electric shout. Not him.
The copper on the left, fourth stand up from the bottom, strapped to the bar at the bottom of the white railing, almost entirely hidden by the festive tinsel wound all about it. Doyle used the back of the plastic chair to jump onto the bottom step, jumped the barrier with ease, and tore across the crisp grass. A comet coming to meet him from the other side.
'Get away!' he screamed as he approached the man, who needed no second invites and dashed off up the stairs with the rest of the boys in blue.
Doyle got there first and drew out the R-T. He'd just relayed the message and was shoving it back in his pocket when Bodie landed with a thump, bright-cheeked and huffing, their Swiss Army knife already in hand.
Quick for a big lad.
'Ray, you shouldn't have,' he smirked when his dancing eyes lighted on the tinsel.
'You're bloody enjoying this.' Bastard.
'Course,' Bodie smirked, and immediately squatted down on his haunches next to where Doyle was already crouching. Crackling rub of corduroy. 'What've we got?'
'Dunno yet, do I? Come on, Steady Eddie.'
Taking his cue, Bodie handed Doyle the knife, moved gently around and eased his big fingers into the depths of the tinsel, careful not to touch the present underneath. He lifted it ever-so carefully and Doyle bent his head closer, trying to see the set-up beneath the silver fronds. He could feel Bodie's warming breath catching in the snarl of his ear.
Slowly, he traced the top of the likely wire, mind running the numbers. 'It's them, alright. Classic.'
'Oh, should be a doddle, then,' Bodie frowned, looking up briefly to squint off across the stands like a cowboy surveying the hills. 'Did they- ?'
'Yeah, cleared 'em.' He swallowed and just managed it, bracing his finger under the live one. 'Just you and me, sunshine.'
His thumb tensed against the scissors, ready to cut. He was panting.
Bodie looked him dead in the eye and Doyle's heart just stopped. 'Best way.'
SNIP.
'…. …. ….'
'Are we dead?'
'I think I might be,' Doyle's blood was banging in his ears and he was sick to the soles of his feet. It felt like his soul was trying to climb out from his skin as he raced to find the next wire.
'Over my dead body,' Bodie grunted. 'Though that's a close-run thing. There!'
'Gotcha.'
'Right, breathe in.'
SNIP.
Silence exploded into the stadium, and Doyle dropped his shaking hands down to press onto the freezing cold concrete beneath him, rocking forward, weak with relief.
Bodie, meanwhile, started giggling. Actually giggling. He disentangled his hands from the tinsel and leaned forward to grab the back of Doyle's neck, squeezing hard and giving him a rough shake, laughing in his ear. 'Bloody 'ell. Thought that was us.'
Doyle, shaking and unable to get his breathing in check, lifted his head under the pressure of his hand. Bodie was grinning as widely as his face made possible, eyes wild and jets of steam pouring from mouth. He looked utterly unhinged, mad-eyed and with his black curls standing all on end. Doyle grabbed him back, and pressed him into a hard, painful kiss, mashing their faces together.
They broke apart, gasping, Bodie's mouth hanging open and dumb and red. 'Doyle!'
'We fucking made it, Bodie.'
And a slow, searing grin spread across the face inches from his own, the hand on his neck tightening painfully as midnight eyes softened and danced.
'Merry fucking Christmas, Ray.'
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no subject
Date: 2015-01-02 08:07 pm (UTC)And you know, of course you do ... but I'm going to say it anyway: we have to see the bigger story that this is part of!!!!! When you're ready, of course. Yeah, yeah, you might just have that stuff called work that needs writing ... all right then, but don't deprive us of the bigger story for too long, you hear? :-))))))
Brilliant creation, thank you!
no subject
Date: 2015-01-02 09:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-02 09:47 pm (UTC)This dropped us right in the action and went rushing on from there--tense and frantic and a bit crazed, just like them. *g* And then the euphoria that led to a kiss that led to more euphoria. Yay! Thank you. And, er, do carry on, please. *g*
no subject
Date: 2015-01-02 11:02 pm (UTC)it's been so lovely having so much incredible Pros stuff in the run up Christmas. This is a really special fandom. ♥
Agreed. 100%.
no subject
Date: 2015-01-03 12:38 am (UTC)I would surely like to read the rest...Thanks for sharing!
no subject
Date: 2015-01-03 08:49 am (UTC)I will! I promise I will! It's been in my head for ages and I really want to write it and was desperately trying to get it done for this challenge, but didn't manage... It's not at all like what I usually write, and just keeps getting bigger and bigger! But I promise to keep chipping away at it, and it will get done! :D
no subject
Date: 2015-01-03 09:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-03 10:40 am (UTC)Aww, thank you so much! That's exactly what I wanted. So pleased you enjoyed it... I will definitely be carrying on! :D
no subject
Date: 2015-01-03 11:06 am (UTC)I feel ever so privileged to be a (small) part of such an active, entertaining and inspiring fandom. What a lovely bunch of talent! :D
no subject
Date: 2015-01-03 11:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-03 11:35 am (UTC)Wonderful to see something new from you - when I arrived, there were all these lovely stories from you, but you yourself didn't seem to be around, so it is a double treat to 'meet' you because I can say how much I enjoyed the others - thank you for them all!
no subject
Date: 2015-01-03 04:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-03 05:08 pm (UTC)Oh my poor nerves! That was utterly brilliant, and so vivid, and so them!
I'm joining the back of the queue to beg/bribe you to (one day) write the bigger story, but I'm thrilled skinny to have read this part of it - it more than stands alone, thank you!
no subject
Date: 2015-01-04 07:20 am (UTC)Great work! :D
no subject
Date: 2015-01-07 08:17 am (UTC)