Pros fic - Raining Hard in North Virginia

[byslantedlight]

Written for the picfor1000 2010 challenge, and as usual sliding in ve-ery close to my deadline... As usual, the challenge was to write a story of exactly 1000 words, inspired by a themed picture - the eighth challenge was entitled "Year Ate" and this was my prompt...


Raining Hard in North Virginia
by Slantedlight

The rain began slowly, a single huge drop surprising Bodie when it hit the lake and sent circle after circle gliding towards the shore, even though the sky had been heavy for an hour now, clouds seeming to hang, no wind, nowhere to go. Another drop eclipsed the first, then three and four and then another hit his window with a smack, and it was raining in earnest. He didn't move, waited patiently, oddly restless as he had been for the last fortnight, but determined not to give into it. He watched the rain, listened to it, breathed quietly.

After a moment there was a small explosion of red from the ground by the treeline, and a bird darted upwards and then deeper into the woods, a cardinal chased away from its foraging by the downpour. He'd seen all sorts of wildlife in the last three weeks; deer, racoons, even a bobcat when he'd been orienteering with Peters. Doyle'd be well jealous - bad enough that Bodie'd been chosen for this little junket, a month's inspection of American training facilities, while he was stuck at home, running ops.

"You should be more well-travelled," Bodie'd told him smugly, "Not my fault Cowley doesn't see you as the jet-set type." He'd waited for Doyle to thump him then, and it hadn't taken long, Doyle's knuckles hard and bruising against his arm, a momentary warmth in the chill of the February night. They'd stopped at the Blue Anchor for a pint on the way home, and he'd finally been graced with the number of the tall redhead behind the bar, which hadn't improved Doyle's temper... Come to think of it, he never did call her - what was her name? Mel? Mandy? Something beginning with an M, exotic and sexy in her lazy Australian accent. He was getting slow off the mark these days, too old to be bothered with the fuss and fury of dating, wanting something more, not knowing, not quite knowing what.

Strange dreams in the heat of the night, in the chill of the dawn, faces and bodies that he couldn't see clearly, barely knew that he wanted...

The drops on the window became streams, making a watercolour of the scenery, merging lake with trees with mountains, and all desperately grey. Nothing exciting about the rain over here, it was just like London rain, relentless and miserable and smothering... Slogging through it with a pack of squaddies was just the same too, although at least back home they had the sense not to sing and grunt as they trotted along.

Oh for fuck's sake. They were a good bunch of lads, he was just... He didn't know what he was.

He gave in, turned from the window with a frown and strode across his small room - perk of being a visiting VIP - snatching his jacket from the bed. He'd head over to the mess, have another go at their bizarre version of pool, or see if Myers was still up for that poker session, or... something.

He opened the door onto Sharansky's surprised face, hand raised to knock, posed as some crew-cutted red Indian from Bodie's childhood movies.

"How!" Bodie smirked, held up his own hand, palm flat, fingers straight.

Sharansky frowned at him. "Huh?"

Across the corridor Peters was slamming the door to his own room, and before Bodie could say anything, he'd thrown an arm around Sharansky's shoulders, grinning cheerfully at them both. "¡Yo quiero Taco Be-ell!"

Bodie raised an eyebrow. "Anyone'd think you blokes spoke a foreign language," he said, straight-faced.

Sharansky reached into a pocket, shoved a piece of paper at him. "That's Spanish. We're gonna find some eats, you wanna come?"

A chihuahua stared winsomely at him from the leaflet. "That what they're serving?"

"Tacos, burritos - fajitas man! You never had Mexican food?"

He and Doyle'd taken those twins to El Macho down on Soham Road, eaten enchilladas and drunk red wine. He'd managed to convince Doyle that it was properly pronounced enchi-yahd-a, and Doyle'd chased him down the street afterwards, trapped him beside the NatWest cash machine because Bodie was giggling too hard, leaving him rumpled, ruffled. They'd all gone back to his, and Doyle'd been just pissed enough not to complain when Caitlin simply straddled him right there on the sofa, trusting Bodie to retire to the bedroom with Cara, and he had, he had done that.

Eventually.

Doyle's face, when he came...

Sharansky was still staring at him through the electric brown-yellow of the corridor light, waiting.

"Only back home. This the real thing, is it?"

"Oh yeah, good old Virgin-ie Mexican," Peters interupted, rolling his eyes. He kept grinning at Bodie over Sharansky's shoulder, unremittingly cheerful, determined that Bodie should join his conspiracy.

Doyle would've stared straight at him, held his gaze until one or the other of them gave in and twitched a lip, then turned around and expected Bodie to follow.

"Fuck, man - why don't you just call her?"

Bodie looked up. "Hey?"

"Whoever you're mooning over - give her a call, meet us in the bar in fifteen. We'll round up the others."

Call her?

Somewhere, a fresh wind blew, a cobweb-clearing, Spring-bringing warmth of a wind.

Call her...

He dialled automatically, listened to the strangeness of the ring tone, felt his heart pause when the phone was answered.

A deep breath and rustling, loud across the wires. "Doyle."

"You asleep in the afternoon? Said you were getting old, didn't I!"

"What d'you want, Trouble?" There was another sigh, and he pictured Doyle turning over on his couch, getting himself more comfortable, rubbing at his eyes.

Bodie smiled to himself, gazed out at the clouds. "Your joyful, dulcet tones - what else?"

"Fuck off. What time is it there?"

"Dinner time. We're off out for dog in a bit."

"Yeah? Murph managed to get Chinese again from that place on Main Street, you remember?"

"Christ yeah..."

"When you 'ome?"

Soon, he thought. Soon.

o0o

And thank you to foxcat74 for introducing me to The Feeling - that first track (Without You) just seemed so Bodie-far-away, somehow... *g*

Comments

[miwahni.livejournal.com]

Lovely, almost dream-like quality to this, in the buildup to Bodie's realisation of whom, exactly, he was wanting.

[cloudless-9193.livejournal.com]

Aw, poor Bodie mooning over Doyle. :-)

And I love this:
He'd waited for Doyle to thump him then, and it hadn't taken long, Doyle's knuckles hard and bruising against his arm, a momentary warmth in the chill of the February night.

[constant-muse.livejournal.com]

food and Bodie - how apt! It's fascinating to see them ((or one of them at least)in the US. It's surprising they aren't there more often, it shouldn't be too hard to find a reason, as you have (Slogging through it with a pack of squaddies was just the same too, although at least back home they had the sense not to sing and grunt as they trotted along. I do like that!)
But a large part of Bodie (and your description) is still at home in London, and I love the flashbacks, especially the chasing down the road giggling scene.
And how great, finally, that being taken out of his familiar environment and away from Doyle brings him to his senses.

[snailbones.livejournal.com]

That's beautiful luv. I love your descriptions - things like the rain starting, Another drop eclipsed the first, then three and four, and the giggling fight by the NatWest cash machine - and the lovely dreamy quality too. All this from a dodgy picture of some fairly unhappy-looking Mexican food - now that's real talent *g*

[lukadreaming.livejournal.com]

I love the slightly distant, dream-like feeling to this!

[siskiou.livejournal.com]

Loved it!
Bodie feeling somewhat out of place, and not enjoying his victory over Doyle quite as much as he maybe expected.
And him thinking of Doyle.
Bodie's "How" joke totally falling flat made me smile.

And then the "call her" ending. :)

Oh, and in the comments I noticed the mention of other pic inspired fics. Are they archived somewhere?

[cornishcat.livejournal.com]

Oh my! You do paint beautiful pictures.

I just love how Doyle totally ignored Bodie's ridiculous reference to eating 'dog', turning the conversation back to the mundane aspects of life back home.

Such a comfortable co-existence!

Quesadillas and hard rain

[heliophile-oxon.livejournal.com]

It's really lovely. I particularly like the scene-setting - it's very vivid, and very vividly different from the lads' usual habitat! You've done an exceptional job of getting us inside Bodie's mood and into his head, with a lot of subtle touches - such as when he realises Come to think of it, he never did call her which he'd never even bothered to notice before ... and of course we know why! *g*

I loved the phone conversation, and I do want to know (of course!) what happened when Bodie got home ... if you ever feel like telling us! But this stands beautifully on its own, too - you can feel the gradual dawning of awareness, not a sudden revelation, so we experience it right along with Bodie. Lovely.

[solosundance.livejournal.com]

This is gorgeous, and love the title :) Just like London town ... verrrry catchy that track. I'm partial to fics where one of the lads has the other one on his mind and they're not quite sure what they feel but they definitely feel something ...*g* And then just one little line in a perfect place Doyle's face, when he came... and you've turned a lovely meditative piece into something deliciously hot. That's good writing that is :) I must say I'm glad I didn't go for the challenge this year ... not sure with that pic I'd have risen much beyond food fight LOL.