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Biggles-fic trope suggestion- Fleeing While Handcuffed Together (EvS & Biggles)
Forced to work together, struggling to coordinate movements, trying to conceal their state to avoid suspicion, inadvertently hurting each other, unavoidable proximity
Posted on Tumblr here
The actual process of escaping from their shared cellar had been difficult enough -- not merely getting the door open, which in the end had been a simple if time-consuming matter of chipping crumbling plaster away from the door plate with von Stalhein's hidden penknife. But there was also tugging in the wrong direction, accidentally entangling each other with the handcuff chain, and at one point von Stalhein had walloped Biggles across the ear in an attempt to lift their cuffed hands above their heads and reverse direction, which Biggles was (mostly) sure was an accident; he had also elbowed von Stalhein in the face while trying to turn around.
Once they had scrambled up the short flight of steps to street level, they were confronted with an entirely different problem: namely, attempting to find a public phone in a small French town while managing to avoid revealing that they were cuffed together and von Stalhein was wanted by the law; all of this while having a low, ongoing argument in English.
"-- I say we simply call the gendarmes, they'll arrive with a set of handcuff keys, and --"
"And then I'll end up in prison, but of course that's what you want, isn't it, Bigglesworth?" von Stalhein growled under his breath.
They had made their way to a small cafe where they were seated at a sidewalk table with their cuffed hands beneath the small cafe table. To a passerby, it must have looked as if they were groping each other's thighs, and from the way von Stalhein had turned pink after the waiter brought their cups of coffee and pastries, it was clear that he had read the waiter's significant look.
Biggles started to move a hand to reach for his coffee cup and, as the chain jerked him up short, was reminded that his right hand was cuffed to von Stalhein's left. He awkwardly picked up the cup while von Stalhein leaned back in his chair, sipped his coffee casually, and tried to look unruffled despite his linen shirt being rather dirt-smudged and one of his hands tucked under the table adjacent to Biggles's leg.
"You know I don't want you in prison," Biggles said, making a studied effort not to spill coffee down his front. "However, there is the small matter of several of your former associates still at large. I would like to get a message through to my office. Not to mention acquiring a key to these cuffs at our earliest convenience." He felt von Stalhein's hand twitch near his leg. "Also, has it occurred to you that we have no money to settle our bill, due to our wallets having been lifted by our captors?"
"A mere trifle. I have dealt with such matters before."
Biggles decided not to speculate on what von Stalhein might consider a satisfactory way of settling the bill, or what it might do to his own reputation. "I don't suppose you see any nearby items which might be pressed into service as lock picks?"
"If I did," von Stalhein said grimly around his coffee cup, "don't you think I would have used it?"
Biggles sighed and leaned back in his chair. He gave up his awkward grip on the coffee cup and tried the croissant, which was easier to handle with his off hand. "We seem to be at an impasse for the moment, so we might as well chat. What on earth were you thinking, throwing your lot in with such a bunch of ruffians?"
"Oh God," von Stalhein said to no one in particular. "I should have cut off my arm back in the cellar."
"You know you have better prospects than you can get with them. For God's sake, they have no loyalty to you, or to anything, to any ideal. You've been a soldier and a man of honor; is this really the best prospect you can find?"
"On second thought, I've changed my mind about prison."
"I think you could be a great asset to an employer who values your accomplishments, that's all. In fact, I have some suggestions if you'd like to listen. And you might want to try your croissant, they're quite good."
Von Stalhein glowered at him for a moment longer, then picked it up with a put-upon sigh and began to chew.
Also sequel in comments.
Biggles-fic trope suggestion- Fleeing While Handcuffed Together (EvS & Biggles)
Forced to work together, struggling to coordinate movements, trying to conceal their state to avoid suspicion, inadvertently hurting each other, unavoidable proximity
Posted on Tumblr here
The actual process of escaping from their shared cellar had been difficult enough -- not merely getting the door open, which in the end had been a simple if time-consuming matter of chipping crumbling plaster away from the door plate with von Stalhein's hidden penknife. But there was also tugging in the wrong direction, accidentally entangling each other with the handcuff chain, and at one point von Stalhein had walloped Biggles across the ear in an attempt to lift their cuffed hands above their heads and reverse direction, which Biggles was (mostly) sure was an accident; he had also elbowed von Stalhein in the face while trying to turn around.
Once they had scrambled up the short flight of steps to street level, they were confronted with an entirely different problem: namely, attempting to find a public phone in a small French town while managing to avoid revealing that they were cuffed together and von Stalhein was wanted by the law; all of this while having a low, ongoing argument in English.
"-- I say we simply call the gendarmes, they'll arrive with a set of handcuff keys, and --"
"And then I'll end up in prison, but of course that's what you want, isn't it, Bigglesworth?" von Stalhein growled under his breath.
They had made their way to a small cafe where they were seated at a sidewalk table with their cuffed hands beneath the small cafe table. To a passerby, it must have looked as if they were groping each other's thighs, and from the way von Stalhein had turned pink after the waiter brought their cups of coffee and pastries, it was clear that he had read the waiter's significant look.
Biggles started to move a hand to reach for his coffee cup and, as the chain jerked him up short, was reminded that his right hand was cuffed to von Stalhein's left. He awkwardly picked up the cup while von Stalhein leaned back in his chair, sipped his coffee casually, and tried to look unruffled despite his linen shirt being rather dirt-smudged and one of his hands tucked under the table adjacent to Biggles's leg.
"You know I don't want you in prison," Biggles said, making a studied effort not to spill coffee down his front. "However, there is the small matter of several of your former associates still at large. I would like to get a message through to my office. Not to mention acquiring a key to these cuffs at our earliest convenience." He felt von Stalhein's hand twitch near his leg. "Also, has it occurred to you that we have no money to settle our bill, due to our wallets having been lifted by our captors?"
"A mere trifle. I have dealt with such matters before."
Biggles decided not to speculate on what von Stalhein might consider a satisfactory way of settling the bill, or what it might do to his own reputation. "I don't suppose you see any nearby items which might be pressed into service as lock picks?"
"If I did," von Stalhein said grimly around his coffee cup, "don't you think I would have used it?"
Biggles sighed and leaned back in his chair. He gave up his awkward grip on the coffee cup and tried the croissant, which was easier to handle with his off hand. "We seem to be at an impasse for the moment, so we might as well chat. What on earth were you thinking, throwing your lot in with such a bunch of ruffians?"
"Oh God," von Stalhein said to no one in particular. "I should have cut off my arm back in the cellar."
"You know you have better prospects than you can get with them. For God's sake, they have no loyalty to you, or to anything, to any ideal. You've been a soldier and a man of honor; is this really the best prospect you can find?"
"On second thought, I've changed my mind about prison."
"I think you could be a great asset to an employer who values your accomplishments, that's all. In fact, I have some suggestions if you'd like to listen. And you might want to try your croissant, they're quite good."
Von Stalhein glowered at him for a moment longer, then picked it up with a put-upon sigh and began to chew.
Also sequel in comments.
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Croissants and guidance counseling: the actual worst.
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Please write approximately 50k scenes from this universe of them trying to find a way to uncuff themselves, with life interrupting them. (Maybe Biggles isn't trying too hard; maybe Erich isn't trying too hard either...)
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Imagine them trying to steal a car while handcuffed together. Or an airplane.
Imagine only one bed.
IMAGINE THEM. <3
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I feel like a handcuffed airplane theft would serve admirably as the kind of noodle incident which Biggles mentions as if entirely normal in the course of explaining their escape while Ginger and Algy make increasingly horrified noises and Erich completely fails to look like the responsible one at the time.
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******
Biggles had no particular expectation that von Stalhein would show up. Von Stalhein had never even agreed to do so; the rendezvous had been Biggles's suggestion, when they had parted months ago in France as not precisely enemies and not quite what might be called friends, and von Stalhein had not done anything so clear as agreeing to it.
But Biggles was there on the dot of the appointed hour; in fact, he arrived nearly an hour early, since he had nothing else to do but rattle around the hotel, dithering between the two clean shirts he'd brought with him. He explained to the waiter that a friend was joining him, sipped coffee and studied the menu and failed to read the paper he had obtained from a vendor across the street.
It was very likely von Stalhein would not show up, Biggles thought, checking his watch, which still showed ten minutes to the appointed time. He would wait -- half an hour, perhaps? An hour? There were many things that could delay a man who was no doubt, like Biggles, traveling to their rendezvous from some other point of the globe. Or perhaps von Stalhein had no desire to come; it was overly optimistic to think that he might.
A shadow fell across his table. It was still five minutes to the hour.
"Not merely the same restaurant, but the same table," von Stalhein said dryly, slipping into the chair across from him. He leaned a silver-headed walking stick against the wall beside the table.
"Fortunately it isn't the same waiter," Biggles said. "I—you look—you look well. It is good to see you."
Von Stalhein did look well. He was always a smart dresser, but it seemed to Biggles he looked especially sharp. There was a crisp streak of grey in his hair that had come very slightly out of place, and Biggles had a sudden urge to reach out and smooth it down.
"You seem surprised. Is my appearance at this cafe really that much of a shock?" But the tone was wry, and there was a hint of a smile at the corner of the stern mouth.
"Of course not," Biggles said. "I had no doubt you would arrive." He passed the menu across the table, and von Stalhein accepted it from his hand.
(Scenes in two different hotel rooms that morning:
Biggles: *changes shirts 12 times*
EvS: *shaves more than once, gels his hair into absolute immobility with a single artfully tousled lock, spends 20 minutes arranging his pocket square just so*)
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Biggles deciding how long he’d wait and thinking it’d be somewhere between 30-60 minutes despite the fact he’s already turned up to the restaurant an hour early and had to travel to wherever this is on there mere hope that Erich remembered to/wanted to/could make the appointment - entirely kidding himself that he wouldn’t wait there all night until the restaurant kicked him out at closing time and then he’d hang around the town for a day or two more just in case Erich was unavoidably delayed!
And both of them taking so much care to look lovely for the other, and Biggles immediately noticing the extra effort Erich’s gone to - and Erich deliberately styling his hair just so, so that Biggles might be tempted to stare at/want to touch it!
They’re both endlessly delightful and I love the image of them having neutral territory dinners across the world when they can get away with it 🥰
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---
It turned out that, while they were perfectly able to walk in sync without difficulty, running was something else entirely. Between the difference in their strides, the handcuffs jerking them both up short, and von Stalhein's bad leg, their first attempt at a sprint resulted in von Stalhein falling headfirst into a large planting of flowers and pulling Biggles down on top of him. This was effective at hiding them from their pursuers, at least for the few seconds it took for them to crawl out the other side of the flowerbed, arguing vociferously in furious, hissed whispers.
"It requires coordination," von Stalhein said between his teeth. "You are a pilot, surely you can manage this."
"Flying with a copilot is an entirely different thing from trying to organise two sets of legs with a chain between them." As they were now crouched behind a bush and effectively out of sight for the moment, Biggles furrowed his brow, considering the problem. "Perhaps if we have a count?"
"If you are suggesting that our next sprint should involve counting one-two, one-two to stop us tangling our legs together, I would rather be shot."
"Well, I wouldn't be, so your dignity can take the backseat for the time."
"I don't recall putting you in charge."
"Do you have a better idea?"
Von Stalhein's silent glare was a tacit admission that he did not, in fact, have a better idea.
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Also an excellent mental image: Algy hearing the story later.
Biggles: and after that we sto-- er, borrowed a policeman's car, just for a short time, Algy, we needed to get out of the village before von Stalhein's former associates caught up to us, though it's a long story how it came to crash into the cow paddock that I won't get into now. That reminds me, I need to expense it for the case, and the paddock fence as well. Anyway, at that point von Stalhein had the idea to disguise ourselves as a pair of traveling foreign entertainers who had lost the rest of our troupe --
Algy: *grimly pours himself another drink*
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