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crack_van2011-03-11 04:26 pm
saintvic.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2011-03-11 04:26 pm
Entry tags:
Like a Thunderstorm by Callisto (Everyone)
Fandom: THE PROFESSIONALS
Pairing: Bodie/Doyle
Length: approx 7500 words
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
callistosh65
Author Website: Links to callisto’s stories can be found here, here, here and here .
Why this must be read: because I defy anyone to read this and not be left with a happy smile on their faces. Set at Christmas this is a wonderful read all year and every year as it is full of lots of my favourite things: tension, misunderstandings, revelations about people’s pasts, heat, affection, banter, bickering, perfect dialogue, humour, angst and warmth. Read it now :D.
Excerpt 1
“Be Christmas soon.”
Bodie fiddled with the focus ring of the binoculars he was looking through. “Looks like Brownie’s pulled a fast one, Doyle. You sure he’s on the up and up about this?”
“Should be.” Doyle looked at his watch. “’S only half past five, mate. Give him a chance.”
Bodie said nothing and Doyle kept his eyes on the goings on outside the windscreen and resisted the urge to turn his head and study his partner. Where Bodie’s pathological avoidance of all things Christmas came from, Doyle had only the vaguest idea. Bodie showed his discomfort by working his jaw every time Christmas was mentioned in a context other than getting drunk and overeating, and by affecting complete and utter boredom with the topic.
Doyle put his idly formed theory to the test.
“We’re getting the time off this year. You could go back to Liverpool, chase a few nieces and nephews round the table, pull a cracker or two.”
“Pull your cracker in a minute, Doyle. Now shut up, some of us are trying to work.”
Doyle looked and there it was, the muscle jump to the jaw. He resisted another urge: to tut and clout the pillock, who was so pathetically predictable it was almost funny.
“You could come round and spend it with me, y’know.”
Excerpt 2
Turned out that a bullet to the right shoulder and a broken right arm were going to get Doyle a whole lot more than Christmas Day and Boxing Day off. Bodie told Doyle he’d heard teeth grinding, but Cowley had had to defer reluctantly to the doctor, who ordered an immediate fortnight off the duty roster.
Grapes and dog-eared Playboys being the standard gifts among agents for hospital stays, Doyle got his delivered with considerable reluctance, and with more than a few cries of “You jammy sod!” once news of his lay-off status during the holiday season broke.
“Maybe I should get myself shot falling over a box,” said Murphy, particularly envious since he was to be holed up in a caravan in Bethnal Green for the duration.
“Oi! Less of that. I did not fall over a box. I was diving for cover . . . I think.”
Like a Thunderstorm (on LJ) and Like a Thunderstorm (at the Automated Hatstand)
Pairing: Bodie/Doyle
Length: approx 7500 words
Author on LJ:
callistosh65Author Website: Links to callisto’s stories can be found here, here, here and here .
Why this must be read: because I defy anyone to read this and not be left with a happy smile on their faces. Set at Christmas this is a wonderful read all year and every year as it is full of lots of my favourite things: tension, misunderstandings, revelations about people’s pasts, heat, affection, banter, bickering, perfect dialogue, humour, angst and warmth. Read it now :D.
Excerpt 1
“Be Christmas soon.”
Bodie fiddled with the focus ring of the binoculars he was looking through. “Looks like Brownie’s pulled a fast one, Doyle. You sure he’s on the up and up about this?”
“Should be.” Doyle looked at his watch. “’S only half past five, mate. Give him a chance.”
Bodie said nothing and Doyle kept his eyes on the goings on outside the windscreen and resisted the urge to turn his head and study his partner. Where Bodie’s pathological avoidance of all things Christmas came from, Doyle had only the vaguest idea. Bodie showed his discomfort by working his jaw every time Christmas was mentioned in a context other than getting drunk and overeating, and by affecting complete and utter boredom with the topic.
Doyle put his idly formed theory to the test.
“We’re getting the time off this year. You could go back to Liverpool, chase a few nieces and nephews round the table, pull a cracker or two.”
“Pull your cracker in a minute, Doyle. Now shut up, some of us are trying to work.”
Doyle looked and there it was, the muscle jump to the jaw. He resisted another urge: to tut and clout the pillock, who was so pathetically predictable it was almost funny.
“You could come round and spend it with me, y’know.”
Excerpt 2
Turned out that a bullet to the right shoulder and a broken right arm were going to get Doyle a whole lot more than Christmas Day and Boxing Day off. Bodie told Doyle he’d heard teeth grinding, but Cowley had had to defer reluctantly to the doctor, who ordered an immediate fortnight off the duty roster.
Grapes and dog-eared Playboys being the standard gifts among agents for hospital stays, Doyle got his delivered with considerable reluctance, and with more than a few cries of “You jammy sod!” once news of his lay-off status during the holiday season broke.
“Maybe I should get myself shot falling over a box,” said Murphy, particularly envious since he was to be holed up in a caravan in Bethnal Green for the duration.
“Oi! Less of that. I did not fall over a box. I was diving for cover . . . I think.”
Like a Thunderstorm (on LJ) and Like a Thunderstorm (at the Automated Hatstand)