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crack_van2012-02-17 08:45 am
byslantedlight.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2012-02-17 08:45 am
Entry tags:
Fruit of the Spirit by Cherilyn
Fandom: THE PROFESSIONALS
Pairing: B/D
Length: Novel
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ankh_lj
Author Website: Bunnyfic
Why this must be read: This story - all 94,000+ words of it - has been around since 2000 but previously only in zine form, from Gryphon Press. Last year Cherilyn put it online, to great squeeing and joy from Pros fans, because it really is a great Pros story. It follows the lads from their first meeting, its' well-written, it's in character, and it's beautifully, gorgeously long. Oh, and Doyle's mum makes an appearance too. What more could a B/D fan want?
Excerpt
It was antipathy at first sight. It could not be anything so strong as hate - they had only just seen each other and hadn't even exchanged names - but it was close. All it took was a slight curl of the upper lip, a disdainful look and a quirk of a crooked eyebrow, and Raymond Doyle knew he had gained an enemy.
It was rare for Doyle to feel such animosity and never so quickly on such little provocation. It was shaming that his temper could be so easily roused by a single sneer. He tried to quash the feeling but it bubbled up inside him, blind to reason. He didn't like the arrogant tilt of the man's head or the coldness in the blue eyes. Irritation prickled along his nerves when he saw conceit in the smooth, unmarred perfection of his face. Doyle's judgement was swift: smug bastard.
The man had to be a soldier - the dark cropped hair, the oh-so-elegant blazer and impossibly shiny shoes spoke of military neatness and precision. He probably even ironed his underwear. In Doyle's book this was as great an offence as putting ketchup all over his home-cooked Spaghetti Bolognese. For some things they really should bring back capital punishment.
As for William Bodie, it took him a few minutes to notice the lean curly-headed scruff staring at him as he was too busy eyeing up the competition - sod George Cowley's speech about teamwork, put a group of highly trained men under fifty in one room and they'd soon be trying to prove who was cock of the roost. A couple of the men looked like they were ex-army and might be useful in a fight - the tall, brown-haired bloke with the mild face could be worth getting to know - but he was sure he could take on any one of them. Then the tall man moved to one side and Bodie found himself pinned by an intense glare, one that seemed to burn right through his super-confident front, exposing the uncertainty and apprehension he had felt since accepting Cowley's offer to join CI5.
Resentment burst forth at such perceptiveness and Bodie swept searching eyes over his examiner, looking for flaws, determined to banish the ridiculous notion that here was someone who could see into his soul. Three seconds later Bodie realised that the intense look had more to do with weighing him up than uncanny abilities. Ten seconds after that, he had examined the man from the top of his curly head to the bottom of his trainer-clad feet. The ex-soldier's assessment was lightning quick: scruffy bugger.
Fruit of the Spirit
Pairing: B/D
Length: Novel
Author on LJ:
ankh_ljAuthor Website: Bunnyfic
Why this must be read: This story - all 94,000+ words of it - has been around since 2000 but previously only in zine form, from Gryphon Press. Last year Cherilyn put it online, to great squeeing and joy from Pros fans, because it really is a great Pros story. It follows the lads from their first meeting, its' well-written, it's in character, and it's beautifully, gorgeously long. Oh, and Doyle's mum makes an appearance too. What more could a B/D fan want?
Excerpt
It was antipathy at first sight. It could not be anything so strong as hate - they had only just seen each other and hadn't even exchanged names - but it was close. All it took was a slight curl of the upper lip, a disdainful look and a quirk of a crooked eyebrow, and Raymond Doyle knew he had gained an enemy.
It was rare for Doyle to feel such animosity and never so quickly on such little provocation. It was shaming that his temper could be so easily roused by a single sneer. He tried to quash the feeling but it bubbled up inside him, blind to reason. He didn't like the arrogant tilt of the man's head or the coldness in the blue eyes. Irritation prickled along his nerves when he saw conceit in the smooth, unmarred perfection of his face. Doyle's judgement was swift: smug bastard.
The man had to be a soldier - the dark cropped hair, the oh-so-elegant blazer and impossibly shiny shoes spoke of military neatness and precision. He probably even ironed his underwear. In Doyle's book this was as great an offence as putting ketchup all over his home-cooked Spaghetti Bolognese. For some things they really should bring back capital punishment.
As for William Bodie, it took him a few minutes to notice the lean curly-headed scruff staring at him as he was too busy eyeing up the competition - sod George Cowley's speech about teamwork, put a group of highly trained men under fifty in one room and they'd soon be trying to prove who was cock of the roost. A couple of the men looked like they were ex-army and might be useful in a fight - the tall, brown-haired bloke with the mild face could be worth getting to know - but he was sure he could take on any one of them. Then the tall man moved to one side and Bodie found himself pinned by an intense glare, one that seemed to burn right through his super-confident front, exposing the uncertainty and apprehension he had felt since accepting Cowley's offer to join CI5.
Resentment burst forth at such perceptiveness and Bodie swept searching eyes over his examiner, looking for flaws, determined to banish the ridiculous notion that here was someone who could see into his soul. Three seconds later Bodie realised that the intense look had more to do with weighing him up than uncanny abilities. Ten seconds after that, he had examined the man from the top of his curly head to the bottom of his trainer-clad feet. The ex-soldier's assessment was lightning quick: scruffy bugger.
Fruit of the Spirit
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I thought I signed up for crack_van (when you were encouraging us) but haven't heard from them - or do you only hear nearer the 'time'?
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And you're welcome - I was so pleased that this came online, so that more people could read it!
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Because I'm trawling back and forth through the van to make my own recs, I came across this rec of yours... and oops, ended up reading it instead of doing other things *g*
Thanks for the suggestion - it's great fun and I've really enjoyed reading it.
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