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Cuddles4Biggles fills 1 & 2
One from the other day, one from today for my own prompt ...
And don't miss the fills post for everything posted so far!
Team + EvS, sleeping on each other
Originally posted here
[set post-Buries a Hatchet and probably post-Looks Back]
Biggles strode into the Air Police operational office with his mouth open to speak, started to say Algy's name, and then stopped, mouth still half open.
"Do not," Algy said between his teeth, "say a word."
He was sitting on the ragged sofa in one corner of the office. The old sofa was a fixture of the office, drawn out of the way of the desks, where it had provided a soft, if badly sprung, place to nap for more than one tired member of the SAP over the years.
At the moment, it was giving Algy a place to sit, and von Stalhein a place to sleep — slumped on Algy's shoulder.
They'd all had a very long day, in pouring rain, and all of them had been drooping and stumbling with exhaustion when they returned to the SAP office at the aerodrome late that evening. Biggles had seen Ginger and Bertie off first, both of them limping from minor injuries. Algy, for his part, was unhurt, just wet and muddy.
Von Stalhein had said he was completely fine, repeated it several times, in fact, even though Biggles had seen him knocked about and nearly run over by the smugglers they were apprehending. Having him out in the field with the team, in this case to provide translation services, was still a minor miracle that Biggles had not quite adjusted to yet.
Now he gazed at the image in front of him. Algy had one of the scratchy old wool blankets that they kept in the office (for just such occasions as this) wrapped around his shoulders, his hands clutching a heavy old pottery mug of coffee. Von Stalhein had another, similar gray blanket draped over his lap. There was an untouched cup on the spare desk at his end of the couch — well, what had been his end, until he had fallen asleep tilting onto Algy.
"If you might consider providing some assistance," Algy said, low. Still, Biggles couldn't help noticing that he wasn't moving at all, even though his position looked uncomfortable, one elbow on the arm of the sofa and the other resting on his knees.
"Of course," Biggles said quietly. He slipped into the room, straight to Ginger's desk, where Ginger's old box camera sat among a clutter of paperwork, magazines, and stained mugs.
"Do not," Algy said grimly. "Don't—Bigglesworth—don't you dare—I know where you sleep—!"
But he kept his voice low, even as Biggles took his hand off the camera, smiling.
"Would you care for a relief shift, Flying-Officer Lacey?"
"Oh God yes, you have no idea how happy that would make me."
"Of course, if you'd rather have some quiet time to—"
"Biggles," Algy said, teeth almost audibly grinding.
Biggles decided it was a bad idea to wind him up any more, he'd already been a good sport about the entire thing, and slid onto the creaky springs of the sofa in the space between the armrest and von Stalhein's narrow hips. "Erich," he murmured, and putting a light hand on von Stalhein's shoulder, gently moved him a little.
Von Stalhein came awake with a jolt, and Algy, with a swift motion that put Biggles in mind of their long-ago boyish days, ducked out from under the burden and stood up. Von Stalhein blinked, squinting as if the lights in the room were too bright. He raised a hand to his forehead. "I—apologize, I—where am I? Ah," he added, with dazed comprehension, as Biggles steered him carefully to a more or less upright position.
"I think it's time to go home and sleep, for all of us," Biggles said. He kept a hand on von Stalhein's shoulder, steadying him as he swayed in the grip of nearly intractable exhaustion.
"Tell me about it," Algy said loudly, and took his mug off to the kitchenette.
---
No heat at the Mount St flat, any characters (Biggles & Algy, gen)
Originally posted here
[this is set somewhere in the 1920s-30s]
"Get your cold feet off my legs," Algy murmured sleepily as Biggles climbed under the duvet with him.
"The heat's out. Bloody new gas hearth, this was never a problem with the old coal one ..."
"Still not my problem," Algy muttered into his pillow, but Biggles was already snuggled up against his back, and seemed to be falling asleep. Algy sighed, punched his pillow, and leaned back against his cousin. Biggles gave a little sigh and relaxed totally in the way that he did when he was completely asleep.
Which Algy knew all too well, because he had fallen asleep more than once with Biggles curled against him like this under scratchy blankets during the war. And he knew that it was more than the cold that drove Biggles out of his bed to seek comfort in Algy's. So he closed his eyes and let himself drift towards sleep as well, with Biggles a warm bulwark at his back, keeping the chill of the night away.
And don't miss the fills post for everything posted so far!
Team + EvS, sleeping on each other
Originally posted here
[set post-Buries a Hatchet and probably post-Looks Back]
Biggles strode into the Air Police operational office with his mouth open to speak, started to say Algy's name, and then stopped, mouth still half open.
"Do not," Algy said between his teeth, "say a word."
He was sitting on the ragged sofa in one corner of the office. The old sofa was a fixture of the office, drawn out of the way of the desks, where it had provided a soft, if badly sprung, place to nap for more than one tired member of the SAP over the years.
At the moment, it was giving Algy a place to sit, and von Stalhein a place to sleep — slumped on Algy's shoulder.
They'd all had a very long day, in pouring rain, and all of them had been drooping and stumbling with exhaustion when they returned to the SAP office at the aerodrome late that evening. Biggles had seen Ginger and Bertie off first, both of them limping from minor injuries. Algy, for his part, was unhurt, just wet and muddy.
Von Stalhein had said he was completely fine, repeated it several times, in fact, even though Biggles had seen him knocked about and nearly run over by the smugglers they were apprehending. Having him out in the field with the team, in this case to provide translation services, was still a minor miracle that Biggles had not quite adjusted to yet.
Now he gazed at the image in front of him. Algy had one of the scratchy old wool blankets that they kept in the office (for just such occasions as this) wrapped around his shoulders, his hands clutching a heavy old pottery mug of coffee. Von Stalhein had another, similar gray blanket draped over his lap. There was an untouched cup on the spare desk at his end of the couch — well, what had been his end, until he had fallen asleep tilting onto Algy.
"If you might consider providing some assistance," Algy said, low. Still, Biggles couldn't help noticing that he wasn't moving at all, even though his position looked uncomfortable, one elbow on the arm of the sofa and the other resting on his knees.
"Of course," Biggles said quietly. He slipped into the room, straight to Ginger's desk, where Ginger's old box camera sat among a clutter of paperwork, magazines, and stained mugs.
"Do not," Algy said grimly. "Don't—Bigglesworth—don't you dare—I know where you sleep—!"
But he kept his voice low, even as Biggles took his hand off the camera, smiling.
"Would you care for a relief shift, Flying-Officer Lacey?"
"Oh God yes, you have no idea how happy that would make me."
"Of course, if you'd rather have some quiet time to—"
"Biggles," Algy said, teeth almost audibly grinding.
Biggles decided it was a bad idea to wind him up any more, he'd already been a good sport about the entire thing, and slid onto the creaky springs of the sofa in the space between the armrest and von Stalhein's narrow hips. "Erich," he murmured, and putting a light hand on von Stalhein's shoulder, gently moved him a little.
Von Stalhein came awake with a jolt, and Algy, with a swift motion that put Biggles in mind of their long-ago boyish days, ducked out from under the burden and stood up. Von Stalhein blinked, squinting as if the lights in the room were too bright. He raised a hand to his forehead. "I—apologize, I—where am I? Ah," he added, with dazed comprehension, as Biggles steered him carefully to a more or less upright position.
"I think it's time to go home and sleep, for all of us," Biggles said. He kept a hand on von Stalhein's shoulder, steadying him as he swayed in the grip of nearly intractable exhaustion.
"Tell me about it," Algy said loudly, and took his mug off to the kitchenette.
---
No heat at the Mount St flat, any characters (Biggles & Algy, gen)
Originally posted here
[this is set somewhere in the 1920s-30s]
"Get your cold feet off my legs," Algy murmured sleepily as Biggles climbed under the duvet with him.
"The heat's out. Bloody new gas hearth, this was never a problem with the old coal one ..."
"Still not my problem," Algy muttered into his pillow, but Biggles was already snuggled up against his back, and seemed to be falling asleep. Algy sighed, punched his pillow, and leaned back against his cousin. Biggles gave a little sigh and relaxed totally in the way that he did when he was completely asleep.
Which Algy knew all too well, because he had fallen asleep more than once with Biggles curled against him like this under scratchy blankets during the war. And he knew that it was more than the cold that drove Biggles out of his bed to seek comfort in Algy's. So he closed his eyes and let himself drift towards sleep as well, with Biggles a warm bulwark at his back, keeping the chill of the night away.
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Biggles perhaps secretly pleased that the new gas heater gives him an excuse to sleep in Algy's bed. Sometimes everything is just easier with a friend near.
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