Entry tags:
Biggles ficlet: follow-up to Ysande's "A Hard Bargain"
So this is actually NOT the fic of Ysande's from Closer Flash that I asked permission to write a follow-up to, but I was just kind of noodling on fic this morning and ended up writing a snippet following on from ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ysande's A Hard Bargain and specifically one of the comments (under the cut).
I'm posting it here rather than there soysande knows there's no obligation to comment on it!
Under the cut: 800 words of Biggles-EvS-Algy post-awkward-gen-snuggling, maybe a little sad/wistful at the end, but in the same way that the fic is. I think you probably need to read the fic first for this to make sense ...
Specifically inspired by this comment: https://archiveofourown.org/comments/820394317
I really want it to be Erich who wakes up first, and he’s surprisingly warm and he’s being held closely and protectively by someone, and it’s such a wondrous and delightful thing for a split second before he realises it’s ALGY and then his brain short circuits and he scrambles right out of there and pretends to be all cool and emotionally distant while Algy grumbles at him (but is secretly relieved EvS didn’t end up choosing death by hypothermia out of sheer stubbornness after all) and Biggles is all starry eyes, and Algy gripes about how heartless he is and EvS is just all ‘yes please focus on how heartless I am and never ever mention that I was snuggled up next to you and it was actually kinda… nice’ <3
Erich woke up warm. Half asleep, drifting up from a sleep deeper than he had managed in many months, he had no idea where he was -- and, for those first lazy moments, no fear of it; he was comfortable and unafraid and he somehow could not bring himself to care why.
Then he gradually became aware of an arm across his chest, a warm (though fully clothed) body pressed against his, the tangle of blankets around them -- the stickiness of clothing that had dried against his skin ... and as someone in the blanket nest stirred and made a sleepy sound, the full awareness of where he was, and who was sleeping so comfortably against him, galvanized him into abrupt, convulsive movement.
He all but fled the warmth of the blankets into the bitter chill of the cave where they had taken shelter, leaving Lacey stirring with annoyed, mumbled complaints while Erich collected himself and stirred up the fire he had only vague, cold-blurred memories of building yesterday.
Lacey was still making annoyed sounds from within his nest of blankets. "Since you're up," he said, and then went into a coughing fit. There was a hoarse, wet undertone to it that bothered Erich. He reminded himself that he hadn't wanted to be here and had no investment in the welfare of any of these people, but there was a strangely visceral urge, after dragging a man from the cockpit of a crashed plane and certain death, to ensure that he didn't drop dead of pneumonia immediately after.
"Do you want a drink of water?"
"No -- yes -- all right." Lacey slipped a hand out of the blankets and took the canteen. "Since you're up anyway, if you wouldn't mind making yourself useful and checking on Biggles ..."
Erich wanted to do nothing less; he also needed to see that Bigglesworth was all right, after the terrible limpness as he had gone down into Erich's arms. Bigglesworth was a lump, stirring slightly, in the warm blanket nest on Lacey's other side. Erich crouched beside him and pulled the blankets away.
Bigglesworth stirred sleepily, blinked, and looked up at Erich. A wash of some indescribable emotion, something like sleepy delight, spread across his face. "Oh," he whispered. "You're still here."
Erich had no words for what that expression did to his chest; it knotted up into something tangled and painful inside him. What he wanted to say was "You're paying me well enough," he could feel the words bitter on his tongue, but he knew those words would hit the sleepy, warm, open look like a hammer, when Bigglesworth had no defenses against them, and he couldn't bring himself to do it.
Instead Erich put an arm under his shoulders, almost roughly, but the soft, wondering warmth on Bigglesworth's half-asleep face checked his motion, turned it to one that was careful. "Here," he said, offering lukewarm coffee from the flask clipped to his belt. It was his own, for this mission, as the majority of the pilots' supplies had been lost in their crash. There were a few swallows left at the bottom.
Bigglesworth sipped from the flask, and as coherence came back into his face, it lost some of that sleepy, soft quality and sharpened into his usual alertness, if weary and pain-blurred. "Algy," he began.
"He's right there with you."
"Oh," Bigglesworth whispered, and he moved under the blanket, feeling for Algy.
"It's almost dawn," Erich said shortly as he let him back down. "Your associates will be here shortly."
Bigglesworth looked like he was about to say something, so Erich got up swiftly and busied himself with the camp, getting some water heating over the fire.
This was a strictly mercenary exchange of favors, he reminded himself. He was only here because they were paying him in jewels, and Bigglesworth had made it clear that it was for no other reason.
He glanced back at the warm lump of bodies beneath the blankets, the low murmur of voices as Bigglesworth and Lacey talked quietly. Already their ranks had closed to shut him out; the moment of warmth was gone. He viciously locked away the sense-memory of that warm lazy awakening (safe, he'd felt safe, in a way he couldn't remember feeling in a long time) and went to gather wood.
(What they're actually talking about, after they get the "how are you, are you okay, no are YOU okay" part out of the way is most likely something like:
Biggles: Algy go get von Stalhein, he looks cold, he needs to get under the blankets where it's warm.
Algy: I'm not doing your dirty work for you-- NO NO NO *grab* you're hurt, stay here!!
Biggles: But --
Algy: do not make me sit on you because I will
Biggles: oh no he left :(((
Algy: THANK GOD)
ysande's A Hard Bargain and specifically one of the comments (under the cut).I'm posting it here rather than there so
ysande knows there's no obligation to comment on it!Under the cut: 800 words of Biggles-EvS-Algy post-awkward-gen-snuggling, maybe a little sad/wistful at the end, but in the same way that the fic is. I think you probably need to read the fic first for this to make sense ...
Specifically inspired by this comment: https://archiveofourown.org/comments/820394317
I really want it to be Erich who wakes up first, and he’s surprisingly warm and he’s being held closely and protectively by someone, and it’s such a wondrous and delightful thing for a split second before he realises it’s ALGY and then his brain short circuits and he scrambles right out of there and pretends to be all cool and emotionally distant while Algy grumbles at him (but is secretly relieved EvS didn’t end up choosing death by hypothermia out of sheer stubbornness after all) and Biggles is all starry eyes, and Algy gripes about how heartless he is and EvS is just all ‘yes please focus on how heartless I am and never ever mention that I was snuggled up next to you and it was actually kinda… nice’ <3
Erich woke up warm. Half asleep, drifting up from a sleep deeper than he had managed in many months, he had no idea where he was -- and, for those first lazy moments, no fear of it; he was comfortable and unafraid and he somehow could not bring himself to care why.
Then he gradually became aware of an arm across his chest, a warm (though fully clothed) body pressed against his, the tangle of blankets around them -- the stickiness of clothing that had dried against his skin ... and as someone in the blanket nest stirred and made a sleepy sound, the full awareness of where he was, and who was sleeping so comfortably against him, galvanized him into abrupt, convulsive movement.
He all but fled the warmth of the blankets into the bitter chill of the cave where they had taken shelter, leaving Lacey stirring with annoyed, mumbled complaints while Erich collected himself and stirred up the fire he had only vague, cold-blurred memories of building yesterday.
Lacey was still making annoyed sounds from within his nest of blankets. "Since you're up," he said, and then went into a coughing fit. There was a hoarse, wet undertone to it that bothered Erich. He reminded himself that he hadn't wanted to be here and had no investment in the welfare of any of these people, but there was a strangely visceral urge, after dragging a man from the cockpit of a crashed plane and certain death, to ensure that he didn't drop dead of pneumonia immediately after.
"Do you want a drink of water?"
"No -- yes -- all right." Lacey slipped a hand out of the blankets and took the canteen. "Since you're up anyway, if you wouldn't mind making yourself useful and checking on Biggles ..."
Erich wanted to do nothing less; he also needed to see that Bigglesworth was all right, after the terrible limpness as he had gone down into Erich's arms. Bigglesworth was a lump, stirring slightly, in the warm blanket nest on Lacey's other side. Erich crouched beside him and pulled the blankets away.
Bigglesworth stirred sleepily, blinked, and looked up at Erich. A wash of some indescribable emotion, something like sleepy delight, spread across his face. "Oh," he whispered. "You're still here."
Erich had no words for what that expression did to his chest; it knotted up into something tangled and painful inside him. What he wanted to say was "You're paying me well enough," he could feel the words bitter on his tongue, but he knew those words would hit the sleepy, warm, open look like a hammer, when Bigglesworth had no defenses against them, and he couldn't bring himself to do it.
Instead Erich put an arm under his shoulders, almost roughly, but the soft, wondering warmth on Bigglesworth's half-asleep face checked his motion, turned it to one that was careful. "Here," he said, offering lukewarm coffee from the flask clipped to his belt. It was his own, for this mission, as the majority of the pilots' supplies had been lost in their crash. There were a few swallows left at the bottom.
Bigglesworth sipped from the flask, and as coherence came back into his face, it lost some of that sleepy, soft quality and sharpened into his usual alertness, if weary and pain-blurred. "Algy," he began.
"He's right there with you."
"Oh," Bigglesworth whispered, and he moved under the blanket, feeling for Algy.
"It's almost dawn," Erich said shortly as he let him back down. "Your associates will be here shortly."
Bigglesworth looked like he was about to say something, so Erich got up swiftly and busied himself with the camp, getting some water heating over the fire.
This was a strictly mercenary exchange of favors, he reminded himself. He was only here because they were paying him in jewels, and Bigglesworth had made it clear that it was for no other reason.
He glanced back at the warm lump of bodies beneath the blankets, the low murmur of voices as Bigglesworth and Lacey talked quietly. Already their ranks had closed to shut him out; the moment of warmth was gone. He viciously locked away the sense-memory of that warm lazy awakening (safe, he'd felt safe, in a way he couldn't remember feeling in a long time) and went to gather wood.
(What they're actually talking about, after they get the "how are you, are you okay, no are YOU okay" part out of the way is most likely something like:
Biggles: Algy go get von Stalhein, he looks cold, he needs to get under the blankets where it's warm.
Algy: I'm not doing your dirty work for you-- NO NO NO *grab* you're hurt, stay here!!
Biggles: But --
Algy: do not make me sit on you because I will
Biggles: oh no he left :(((
Algy: THANK GOD)
no subject
He viciously locked away the sense-memory of that warm lazy awakening (safe, he'd felt safe, in a way he couldn't remember feeling in a long time) and went to gather wood.
Okay, small thing, but I absolutely loved the implication that he consciously thinks of it as locking away the memory of the physical sensations, but he also knows (in a way he's not happy about looking at too hard on a conscious level) that what's actually upsetting his equilibrium, the thing he really needs to lock away, is the accompanying emotional state. It's been so long since he felt safe. Oh, Erich :(
so he goes and does something cold and uncomfortable and useful and distracting instead. Idiot.
GIVE HIM ALL THE HUGS PLEASE.
no subject
(It also occurs to me that he's probably hasn't had much experience in his life with people who value him for himself and not for how useful he is ... there's Fritz and his sister, of course, but he seems to keep that part of his life strictly separate from his professional life, and he's spent most of his time, for most of his life, with people who clearly view him as a tool to be used and nothing else.)