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Biggles promptfic (finishing up the year)
Wrapping up this year's prompts! This isn't entirely the last of them, but I think after this one, I'm done with the ones that sparked story ideas, so I'll be declaring prompt amnesty and starting over fresh in the new year.
Gen, late in canon, Erich + team with perhaps slight EvS/Biggles undertones, 1800 wds
Originally posted on Tumblr
Erich was still unused to the strange feeling of working with Bigglesworth's team, on the same side.
It seemed to go well enough in the field. If he didn't quite know how to join in on their friendly insults and banter, at least he could hold up his end of the job. But in the more relaxed atmosphere outside of the field, he found that his once easy ability to get along smoothly in a group of people seemed to have deserted him. He missed cues and frequently retreated into what must have seemed an awkward, stony silence to the others -- even if Lissie's affable cheer and Hebblethwaite's friendliness rarely seemed to falter.
He had trouble knowing what was normal for them, even for Bigglesworth, who he had spent so much time watching over the years. And so, he might have thought it was merely his unfamiliarity with all the shades of Bigglesworth in different company that made it seem to him as if the man was unusually quiet on this particular case, in which they were working with two Home Office men that Erich didn't know. But Lacey also seemed to be giving Bigglesworth odd, searching looks ... so perhaps it was not merely Erich's perceptions that were at fault.
He took advantage of a brief opportunity to speak to Lacey alone, just the two of them at the small counter with tea and coffee things in a corner of the hangar they were using for their base of operations. "Does Bigglesworth have a history with those men?"
Lacey gave him a sharp glance, as if doubting Erich's reasons for asking, but whatever he saw made him relax a little. "No," he said. Then he hesitated. "Not that I know of. If it was important, I'm sure Biggles would have said something to me."
Erich couldn't tell if this was meant to be pointed (he would have said something to me, not to you) but he felt no sting in it, only vindication that there was something there, after all. "But he is acting oddly, don't you think? Is something bothering him?"
"Ask him yourself, if you need to know," Lacey said brusquely, stirring milk into his tea with sharp, jerky jabs of the spoon.
In other words, Erich thought, you don't know either. He could have left it at that, maybe should have left it, and he wasn't sure what possessed him to venture cautiously, "I don't like how that fellow is treating him."
Lacey gave him a sharp look, still visibly annoyed. He looked away. Then he said, "I don't either. But it's not like Biggles to let something like that get to him."
The senior Home Office fellow had been slighting Bigglesworth in small ways, and speaking down to him, for the duration of this case. It gave Erich some satisfaction to realize that Lacey had also noticed. Lacey was right, though: it really wasn't like Bigglesworth to be bothered. Bigglesworth's resilient nature seemed to shed small slights with hardly a flicker of concern. It was on behalf of others that his temper tended to become aroused.
"No," Erich said. "It's not."
Lacey scowled at the wall, as if he didn't like the fact that they were thinking so similarly on this, and left.
Erich noticed Lacey and Bigglesworth talking quietly in a corner a few minutes later, but Lacey left looking even more annoyed, which probably meant that he had received no answers, at least none he wanted to hear.
Erich was aware that he had no just cause to be concerned. Bigglesworth had said nothing, after all. And Bigglesworth had never had any problem speaking his mind. So why should this be different? If he hadn't said anything, to Lacey or to the face of the Home Office fellow, then it didn't matter.
But it did matter, and Erich was not even aware of how much simmering resentment he had about the situation, until they were discussing arrangements for surveillance and the Home Office man -- whose name was Oakley -- persistently ignored each of Bigglesworth's quite sensible suggestions. However, it was when he turned around a few minutes later and presented one of them as his own that Erich finally snapped.
"As DI Bigglesworth just suggested, you mean?" he asked in a curt tone.
Lacey gave him a swift, sharp glance (so did Bigglesworth, he was fairly sure, but Erich was studiously not looking at him) and then Lacey said, with sugar-laced venom in his voice, "Yes, that's right, Oakley, so good of you to second Biggles's suggestion! I quite concur, we should do it Biggles' way."
Oakley flustered for a moment before sternly turning to tap the map with the pointer in his hand. "And at the back entrance, we'll station two of Gaskin's men ..."
The conversation moved on. Erich dared a single sidelong glance at Bigglesworth and saw that his ears were pink. Likely he was embarrassed by the unwanted interference, Erich thought grimly. But he noticed Lacey looking at him. Their eyes met briefly, and Lacey's mouth quirked in something that was not quite a smile, but seemed almost approving.
***
After the group began to disperse to their appointed stations, Bigglesworth came up alongside Erich. "Here," he said, passing him a cup of coffee. "I had to stop by the canteen anyway."
"Thank you." Erich found that it was made just as he liked it, strong with a little milk.
After a brief hesitation, Bigglesworth said, "I hope you're finding your role in this mission satisfactory?" His bright hazel eyes searched Erich's face with a curious intensity, looking for what, Erich wasn't sure.
"It's quite all right. No complaints," he said.
"Good, good."
Another slightly awkward pause. Erich could sense that Bigglesworth was skirting around something he wanted to say, or perhaps didn't know how to say.
"That fellow Oakley," Erich said, and surprise leaped in Bigglesworth's expressive eyes -- but not shock. Erich pushed forward. He could guess that Lacey had asked the same question, more or less, and had received no definite answer ... but perhaps Bigglesworth was ready to talk about it now. "Have you worked with him before?"
The answer was a slightly rueful smile. "We went to school together," Bigglesworth said. "He hasn't really changed from those days, I think. Back then, he was the sort of lad who used to bully smaller boys and take credit for others' work."
Erich gave him a thoughtful look. He had never thought about Bigglesworth as a schoolboy. Now he suddenly found himself picturing it, the slight frame even smaller, the tousled fair hair and the fine, narrow face with a child's softness to it.
"So nothing much has changed, then?" Erich said, and there was the quick, bright flicker of a smile, making him realize he had seen Bigglesworth smile hardly at all in the last couple of days.
He had always thought of Bigglesworth possessing the hidden steel of a coiled spring, able to rebound from anything that was thrown at him. But Bigglesworth as a child was not a picture he'd ever had before: small and delicate, perhaps the kind of boy who easily became a target for larger boys.
"It's no matter," Bigglesworth said. "I don't feel a man should be judged by his actions as a child."
"No, but he can be judged by his actions now. I think Lacey and I are united in this," Erich said, which prompted another quick flash of a smile, "and if we agree on something, I expect it's a matter to pay attention to." More seriously, he added, "You don't need to put up with that kind of thing. You could put in a word with the Air Commodore, have him tossed off the case on his ear."
"Simply because the fellow's been a bit rude? There's no need to raise a fuss about it. I've had worse."
"Well, I have nothing to lose," Erich said. "I could tell the Air Commodore that he won't work with me."
Bigglesworth glanced at him quickly. "Has he been giving you trouble?" His voice was sharp.
"Nothing of any note." He was used to slights, and Oakley had mainly just ignored him. The presence of a former Soviet spy on a law enforcement operation wasn't exactly welcome for many.
"I'll have a word with the Air Commodore immediately," Bigglesworth said, scowling.
Erich actually laughed. "But I should not complain about your ill treatment?"
"You shouldn't have to put up with --"
"Neither should you," Erich said pointedly.
After a moment's stubborn silence, Bigglesworth huffed out a soft laugh. "I suppose you are able to bear with it until the end of the case, if you say so."
"As can you, I suppose." Erich met the clear hazel eyes. "You are worth ten of him, you know."
Bigglesworth held his gaze for a moment. "As are you."
The moment was broken by Algy Lacey descending on them. "Oh, there you are, Biggles." He drew a deep breath and launched forward as if reciting a prepared speech. "I'm afraid I simply cannot continue to work with Oakley. The man is insufferably rude. I shall be having a word with the Air Commodore immediately, and I must add that I am sorry if it causes any issues, but in this matter, I certainly don't mind being the villain of the situation --"
Bigglesworth had to say his name twice before Lacey slowed enough that he was able to fit a word in. "It's all right. Don't worry about it. I can handle Arthur Oakley."
"Maybe you can, but can I?" Lacey said darkly.
"You will simply have to," Bigglesworth said, but he was half-smiling. "Do the others feel the same?"
"Absolutely," Lacey said with the conviction of someone who had not consulted anyone else but was confident they would go along with it.
Erich said, as expressionless as he knew how to be, "What about splitting the group? Oakley's team could handle one part of the mission, our group the other part."
Bigglesworth's eyes sparkled. "I'm starting to feel that I'm outnumbered. But that seems a good compromise, thank you. I suppose that Oakley can work with Gaskin's men on staking out the smuggler's warehouse, while the rest of us handle the fieldwork -- is that agreeable to you both?"
"Not that I have any opinions about it --" Algy began. Erich coughed into his hand. "But that sounds like an acceptable plan. I would still be very happy to voice a complaint, if one is needed."
"It is not," Bigglesworth said firmly. He eyed both of them for a moment, then shook his head and turned away with his usual briskness. But there was a softness to the slight quirk of the corner of his mouth. "If everyone is quite finished, I'll have a word with Gaskin, and we can get this circus into the air."
The prompt, which is somewhat spoilery for the fic
[from an anon] Biggles prompt- on a case they run into/are made to work with someone who was nasty to Biggles in his school-days, who tries to renew such treatment, and EvS, also involved with whatever they're investigating, finds himself possessed of both an unexpected protective urge and in the rare position to offer his own "you're better than the people you're working for" speechGen, late in canon, Erich + team with perhaps slight EvS/Biggles undertones, 1800 wds
Originally posted on Tumblr
Erich was still unused to the strange feeling of working with Bigglesworth's team, on the same side.
It seemed to go well enough in the field. If he didn't quite know how to join in on their friendly insults and banter, at least he could hold up his end of the job. But in the more relaxed atmosphere outside of the field, he found that his once easy ability to get along smoothly in a group of people seemed to have deserted him. He missed cues and frequently retreated into what must have seemed an awkward, stony silence to the others -- even if Lissie's affable cheer and Hebblethwaite's friendliness rarely seemed to falter.
He had trouble knowing what was normal for them, even for Bigglesworth, who he had spent so much time watching over the years. And so, he might have thought it was merely his unfamiliarity with all the shades of Bigglesworth in different company that made it seem to him as if the man was unusually quiet on this particular case, in which they were working with two Home Office men that Erich didn't know. But Lacey also seemed to be giving Bigglesworth odd, searching looks ... so perhaps it was not merely Erich's perceptions that were at fault.
He took advantage of a brief opportunity to speak to Lacey alone, just the two of them at the small counter with tea and coffee things in a corner of the hangar they were using for their base of operations. "Does Bigglesworth have a history with those men?"
Lacey gave him a sharp glance, as if doubting Erich's reasons for asking, but whatever he saw made him relax a little. "No," he said. Then he hesitated. "Not that I know of. If it was important, I'm sure Biggles would have said something to me."
Erich couldn't tell if this was meant to be pointed (he would have said something to me, not to you) but he felt no sting in it, only vindication that there was something there, after all. "But he is acting oddly, don't you think? Is something bothering him?"
"Ask him yourself, if you need to know," Lacey said brusquely, stirring milk into his tea with sharp, jerky jabs of the spoon.
In other words, Erich thought, you don't know either. He could have left it at that, maybe should have left it, and he wasn't sure what possessed him to venture cautiously, "I don't like how that fellow is treating him."
Lacey gave him a sharp look, still visibly annoyed. He looked away. Then he said, "I don't either. But it's not like Biggles to let something like that get to him."
The senior Home Office fellow had been slighting Bigglesworth in small ways, and speaking down to him, for the duration of this case. It gave Erich some satisfaction to realize that Lacey had also noticed. Lacey was right, though: it really wasn't like Bigglesworth to be bothered. Bigglesworth's resilient nature seemed to shed small slights with hardly a flicker of concern. It was on behalf of others that his temper tended to become aroused.
"No," Erich said. "It's not."
Lacey scowled at the wall, as if he didn't like the fact that they were thinking so similarly on this, and left.
Erich noticed Lacey and Bigglesworth talking quietly in a corner a few minutes later, but Lacey left looking even more annoyed, which probably meant that he had received no answers, at least none he wanted to hear.
Erich was aware that he had no just cause to be concerned. Bigglesworth had said nothing, after all. And Bigglesworth had never had any problem speaking his mind. So why should this be different? If he hadn't said anything, to Lacey or to the face of the Home Office fellow, then it didn't matter.
But it did matter, and Erich was not even aware of how much simmering resentment he had about the situation, until they were discussing arrangements for surveillance and the Home Office man -- whose name was Oakley -- persistently ignored each of Bigglesworth's quite sensible suggestions. However, it was when he turned around a few minutes later and presented one of them as his own that Erich finally snapped.
"As DI Bigglesworth just suggested, you mean?" he asked in a curt tone.
Lacey gave him a swift, sharp glance (so did Bigglesworth, he was fairly sure, but Erich was studiously not looking at him) and then Lacey said, with sugar-laced venom in his voice, "Yes, that's right, Oakley, so good of you to second Biggles's suggestion! I quite concur, we should do it Biggles' way."
Oakley flustered for a moment before sternly turning to tap the map with the pointer in his hand. "And at the back entrance, we'll station two of Gaskin's men ..."
The conversation moved on. Erich dared a single sidelong glance at Bigglesworth and saw that his ears were pink. Likely he was embarrassed by the unwanted interference, Erich thought grimly. But he noticed Lacey looking at him. Their eyes met briefly, and Lacey's mouth quirked in something that was not quite a smile, but seemed almost approving.
***
After the group began to disperse to their appointed stations, Bigglesworth came up alongside Erich. "Here," he said, passing him a cup of coffee. "I had to stop by the canteen anyway."
"Thank you." Erich found that it was made just as he liked it, strong with a little milk.
After a brief hesitation, Bigglesworth said, "I hope you're finding your role in this mission satisfactory?" His bright hazel eyes searched Erich's face with a curious intensity, looking for what, Erich wasn't sure.
"It's quite all right. No complaints," he said.
"Good, good."
Another slightly awkward pause. Erich could sense that Bigglesworth was skirting around something he wanted to say, or perhaps didn't know how to say.
"That fellow Oakley," Erich said, and surprise leaped in Bigglesworth's expressive eyes -- but not shock. Erich pushed forward. He could guess that Lacey had asked the same question, more or less, and had received no definite answer ... but perhaps Bigglesworth was ready to talk about it now. "Have you worked with him before?"
The answer was a slightly rueful smile. "We went to school together," Bigglesworth said. "He hasn't really changed from those days, I think. Back then, he was the sort of lad who used to bully smaller boys and take credit for others' work."
Erich gave him a thoughtful look. He had never thought about Bigglesworth as a schoolboy. Now he suddenly found himself picturing it, the slight frame even smaller, the tousled fair hair and the fine, narrow face with a child's softness to it.
"So nothing much has changed, then?" Erich said, and there was the quick, bright flicker of a smile, making him realize he had seen Bigglesworth smile hardly at all in the last couple of days.
He had always thought of Bigglesworth possessing the hidden steel of a coiled spring, able to rebound from anything that was thrown at him. But Bigglesworth as a child was not a picture he'd ever had before: small and delicate, perhaps the kind of boy who easily became a target for larger boys.
"It's no matter," Bigglesworth said. "I don't feel a man should be judged by his actions as a child."
"No, but he can be judged by his actions now. I think Lacey and I are united in this," Erich said, which prompted another quick flash of a smile, "and if we agree on something, I expect it's a matter to pay attention to." More seriously, he added, "You don't need to put up with that kind of thing. You could put in a word with the Air Commodore, have him tossed off the case on his ear."
"Simply because the fellow's been a bit rude? There's no need to raise a fuss about it. I've had worse."
"Well, I have nothing to lose," Erich said. "I could tell the Air Commodore that he won't work with me."
Bigglesworth glanced at him quickly. "Has he been giving you trouble?" His voice was sharp.
"Nothing of any note." He was used to slights, and Oakley had mainly just ignored him. The presence of a former Soviet spy on a law enforcement operation wasn't exactly welcome for many.
"I'll have a word with the Air Commodore immediately," Bigglesworth said, scowling.
Erich actually laughed. "But I should not complain about your ill treatment?"
"You shouldn't have to put up with --"
"Neither should you," Erich said pointedly.
After a moment's stubborn silence, Bigglesworth huffed out a soft laugh. "I suppose you are able to bear with it until the end of the case, if you say so."
"As can you, I suppose." Erich met the clear hazel eyes. "You are worth ten of him, you know."
Bigglesworth held his gaze for a moment. "As are you."
The moment was broken by Algy Lacey descending on them. "Oh, there you are, Biggles." He drew a deep breath and launched forward as if reciting a prepared speech. "I'm afraid I simply cannot continue to work with Oakley. The man is insufferably rude. I shall be having a word with the Air Commodore immediately, and I must add that I am sorry if it causes any issues, but in this matter, I certainly don't mind being the villain of the situation --"
Bigglesworth had to say his name twice before Lacey slowed enough that he was able to fit a word in. "It's all right. Don't worry about it. I can handle Arthur Oakley."
"Maybe you can, but can I?" Lacey said darkly.
"You will simply have to," Bigglesworth said, but he was half-smiling. "Do the others feel the same?"
"Absolutely," Lacey said with the conviction of someone who had not consulted anyone else but was confident they would go along with it.
Erich said, as expressionless as he knew how to be, "What about splitting the group? Oakley's team could handle one part of the mission, our group the other part."
Bigglesworth's eyes sparkled. "I'm starting to feel that I'm outnumbered. But that seems a good compromise, thank you. I suppose that Oakley can work with Gaskin's men on staking out the smuggler's warehouse, while the rest of us handle the fieldwork -- is that agreeable to you both?"
"Not that I have any opinions about it --" Algy began. Erich coughed into his hand. "But that sounds like an acceptable plan. I would still be very happy to voice a complaint, if one is needed."
"It is not," Bigglesworth said firmly. He eyed both of them for a moment, then shook his head and turned away with his usual briskness. But there was a softness to the slight quirk of the corner of his mouth. "If everyone is quite finished, I'll have a word with Gaskin, and we can get this circus into the air."