30 years of Pros
I saw londonronnie's entry about today being the 30th anniversary of Pros - YAY!
In light of which I offer 300 words of celebratory fluff - behind the cut if all goes well.
WAKE-UP CALL
HG
A faint light was seeping into the room which meant, given the time of year and weather, that it must be about eight o'clock. With the Sales underway, not to mention a lot of people back at work, the sound of traffic was almost at its normal level. Rain slapped against the windows.
Bodie tucked his nose back under the duvet and inhaled the scent of them both. It was hard to tell where he ended and Ray began.
One thought, inevitably, led to another.
Bodie eased closer with what he fondly imagined to be subtlety.
"Don't even think about it," warned a sleep-slurred voice.
"But Ray - "
"Don't you 'Ray' me. It's your fault we had to work through Christmas. Now we've finally got a few days' leave you're off to do god knows what with your old mob."
"Only you could make a game of rugby sound perverted."
The blanket twitched down a couple of millimetres to reveal some tangled hair. "You can stop prodding my bum. 'M goin' back to sleep."
"That's all right. I won't wake you." Bodie silently started counting.
He could feel Doyle start to shake against him before he'd reached four.
"You always bloody well make me laugh," complained Doyle. He rolled onto his back, chilly air eddying into their warm fug with the redistribution of the covers. While his eyes were still closed, his mouth was smiling.
"And this would be a bad thing because ...?"
"Oh, no." Doyle surged over him with a disconcerting speed for a man who had appeared on the verge of sleep seconds before. "You wanted me awake, you can pay the penalty."
Ray filling his world, Bodie slid his hand up a wiry thigh. "I'll come quietly."
Doyle snorted, before setting out to prove otherwise.
In light of which I offer 300 words of celebratory fluff - behind the cut if all goes well.
WAKE-UP CALL
HG
A faint light was seeping into the room which meant, given the time of year and weather, that it must be about eight o'clock. With the Sales underway, not to mention a lot of people back at work, the sound of traffic was almost at its normal level. Rain slapped against the windows.
Bodie tucked his nose back under the duvet and inhaled the scent of them both. It was hard to tell where he ended and Ray began.
One thought, inevitably, led to another.
Bodie eased closer with what he fondly imagined to be subtlety.
"Don't even think about it," warned a sleep-slurred voice.
"But Ray - "
"Don't you 'Ray' me. It's your fault we had to work through Christmas. Now we've finally got a few days' leave you're off to do god knows what with your old mob."
"Only you could make a game of rugby sound perverted."
The blanket twitched down a couple of millimetres to reveal some tangled hair. "You can stop prodding my bum. 'M goin' back to sleep."
"That's all right. I won't wake you." Bodie silently started counting.
He could feel Doyle start to shake against him before he'd reached four.
"You always bloody well make me laugh," complained Doyle. He rolled onto his back, chilly air eddying into their warm fug with the redistribution of the covers. While his eyes were still closed, his mouth was smiling.
"And this would be a bad thing because ...?"
"Oh, no." Doyle surged over him with a disconcerting speed for a man who had appeared on the verge of sleep seconds before. "You wanted me awake, you can pay the penalty."
Ray filling his world, Bodie slid his hand up a wiry thigh. "I'll come quietly."
Doyle snorted, before setting out to prove otherwise.