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crack_van2011-07-15 03:07 pm
byslantedlight.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2011-07-15 03:07 pm
Entry tags:
Deadly Intervention by Josey (NC-17)
Fandom: THE PROFESSIONALS/BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER
Pairing: Bodie/Doyle
Length: 122k, 22,173 words
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
empty_mirrors
Author Website: Empty Mirrors
Why this must be read: It would never have occurred to me that a Pros/BtVS crossover could work - how in the world would Buffy get to London (or the lads to Sunnydale?), and why? It would be too convoluted, would have to be too carefully done... But Josey is so much better than that - of course a Pros/BtVS crossover need have nothing to do with teenagers in Sunnydale, because if we're talking about 1970s/80s London - well, the Watcher's Council, Rupert Giles, Spike and Drusilla were already there... *g* And of course Cowley would have contacts amongst the Watchers...
Josey is one of my favourite Pros writers - she's got a nice touch with language and humour, and the lads themselves - they're absolutely Bodie and Doyle all the way through. They might fancy each other's socks off, but they're not the type to go for swooning soliloquies, and Josey doesn't try to make them. She does however write them as lads who fancy each other's socks off and therefore do what comes naturally to lads... and she's very good at writing that, too... *g*
Excerpt: Doyle flipped open his ID. "Doyle, and this is Bodie. We've been seconded from CI5."
The butler took their IDs and, picking up a small perfume vaporiser from a table inside the hallway, proceeded to spray each card thoroughly. Bodie and Doyle exchanged glances but refrained from commenting; they'd obviously walked into a nuthouse.
"Thank you," the butler said, handing back their ID's, glared them for a second and then stepped back with a slight bow. "My name is Harrison and I claim this house as my home. Enter if you are able."
"Why, worried we drowned?" Bodie asked as he pushed past the man into the echoing entrance hall.
Doyle followed, brushing off the worst of the weather and looking around to get the lie of the land. The room was typical of buildings of this era, huge and panelled, but the decor was not. Dracula meets Apocalypse Now seemed the closest analogy. Doyle was pretty sure he'd never seen quite so many weapons on public display before, even in the tower. Crossbows nestled alongside automatic rifles, and halberds brushed shoulders with grenades. All in all, a collection designed to intimidate the most hardened criminal. Briefly, Doyle wondered if there was anyone in this bunch of upper class twits who could actually use these things, or if they were just there for display.
"If you would like to follow me, gentlemen." They must have passed a test of some description, because this time they merited a half smile.
They were led down a long dark passageway, past several imposing, but very firmly closed, doors, and into an area that had to be a later extension to the older structure. The walls here felt temporary, much like the ones in the newer CI5 HQ, and everything had the cardboardy feel that Doyle associated with anything constructed after 1960.
This time, the offices were open plan, with large windows onto the corridors, so they were treated to numerous views of employees going about their business.
"Reckon Hooray Henry is uniform?" Bodie whispered after they'd passed the fifth office boasting a tweed-suited inhabitant.
Doyle shrugged. If it was, they'd have to stuff him kicking and screaming into it. Tweed and Doyle did not mix--unless it was a hacking jacket. He quite liked those; especially if they came attached to a pretty girl.
At the very end of the corridor, in a location that smacked of being the arse-end of the universe, the butler stopped and knocked on a door.
"Come," a slightly harassed sounding voice called from inside.
"The...gentlemen from CI5, sir," Harrison said as he opened the door. The slight pause did not go unnoticed, at least by Doyle.
"Ah. Good. Excellent. Show them in will you, Harrison, and arrange for a pot of tea."
"Sir." The butler retreated leaving the door open in obvious invitation.
The room, when they entered, was as incongruous as the entrance hall; modern fixtures and fittings clashed horribly with leather bound books and ancient looking artefacts, faded oil paintings jostled for space alongside a laminate wall planner. And the man fussing behind the desk fitted perfectly. No more than thirty and a good looking bloke, he was dressed in the obligatory tweed and had eyes that seemed decades older.
"Ray Doyle and Bodie, CI5," Doyle said by way of introduction, indicating each in turn as he held out his hand to shake.
"Rupert Giles, Watcher's Council," the man replied, completing the introduction. A stifled snigger came from Bodie's direction, earning him a quizzical glance. "We tend not to use the acronym for obvious reasons."
Deadly Intervention
Pairing: Bodie/Doyle
Length: 122k, 22,173 words
Author on LJ:
empty_mirrorsAuthor Website: Empty Mirrors
Why this must be read: It would never have occurred to me that a Pros/BtVS crossover could work - how in the world would Buffy get to London (or the lads to Sunnydale?), and why? It would be too convoluted, would have to be too carefully done... But Josey is so much better than that - of course a Pros/BtVS crossover need have nothing to do with teenagers in Sunnydale, because if we're talking about 1970s/80s London - well, the Watcher's Council, Rupert Giles, Spike and Drusilla were already there... *g* And of course Cowley would have contacts amongst the Watchers...
Josey is one of my favourite Pros writers - she's got a nice touch with language and humour, and the lads themselves - they're absolutely Bodie and Doyle all the way through. They might fancy each other's socks off, but they're not the type to go for swooning soliloquies, and Josey doesn't try to make them. She does however write them as lads who fancy each other's socks off and therefore do what comes naturally to lads... and she's very good at writing that, too... *g*
Excerpt: Doyle flipped open his ID. "Doyle, and this is Bodie. We've been seconded from CI5."
The butler took their IDs and, picking up a small perfume vaporiser from a table inside the hallway, proceeded to spray each card thoroughly. Bodie and Doyle exchanged glances but refrained from commenting; they'd obviously walked into a nuthouse.
"Thank you," the butler said, handing back their ID's, glared them for a second and then stepped back with a slight bow. "My name is Harrison and I claim this house as my home. Enter if you are able."
"Why, worried we drowned?" Bodie asked as he pushed past the man into the echoing entrance hall.
Doyle followed, brushing off the worst of the weather and looking around to get the lie of the land. The room was typical of buildings of this era, huge and panelled, but the decor was not. Dracula meets Apocalypse Now seemed the closest analogy. Doyle was pretty sure he'd never seen quite so many weapons on public display before, even in the tower. Crossbows nestled alongside automatic rifles, and halberds brushed shoulders with grenades. All in all, a collection designed to intimidate the most hardened criminal. Briefly, Doyle wondered if there was anyone in this bunch of upper class twits who could actually use these things, or if they were just there for display.
"If you would like to follow me, gentlemen." They must have passed a test of some description, because this time they merited a half smile.
They were led down a long dark passageway, past several imposing, but very firmly closed, doors, and into an area that had to be a later extension to the older structure. The walls here felt temporary, much like the ones in the newer CI5 HQ, and everything had the cardboardy feel that Doyle associated with anything constructed after 1960.
This time, the offices were open plan, with large windows onto the corridors, so they were treated to numerous views of employees going about their business.
"Reckon Hooray Henry is uniform?" Bodie whispered after they'd passed the fifth office boasting a tweed-suited inhabitant.
Doyle shrugged. If it was, they'd have to stuff him kicking and screaming into it. Tweed and Doyle did not mix--unless it was a hacking jacket. He quite liked those; especially if they came attached to a pretty girl.
At the very end of the corridor, in a location that smacked of being the arse-end of the universe, the butler stopped and knocked on a door.
"Come," a slightly harassed sounding voice called from inside.
"The...gentlemen from CI5, sir," Harrison said as he opened the door. The slight pause did not go unnoticed, at least by Doyle.
"Ah. Good. Excellent. Show them in will you, Harrison, and arrange for a pot of tea."
"Sir." The butler retreated leaving the door open in obvious invitation.
The room, when they entered, was as incongruous as the entrance hall; modern fixtures and fittings clashed horribly with leather bound books and ancient looking artefacts, faded oil paintings jostled for space alongside a laminate wall planner. And the man fussing behind the desk fitted perfectly. No more than thirty and a good looking bloke, he was dressed in the obligatory tweed and had eyes that seemed decades older.
"Ray Doyle and Bodie, CI5," Doyle said by way of introduction, indicating each in turn as he held out his hand to shake.
"Rupert Giles, Watcher's Council," the man replied, completing the introduction. A stifled snigger came from Bodie's direction, earning him a quizzical glance. "We tend not to use the acronym for obvious reasons."
Deadly Intervention
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