Prosfic Rec Advent Calendar - Day 15
Dec. 15th, 2017 12:21 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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ci5hqIn the Deep Midwinter by Rhiannon
In this third episode of the AU Larton series
Bodie and Doyle 'enjoy' a family house-party and being snowed in.
Bodie popped his kettle on - being used to life in cold, damp English and Irish country houses he always came prepared - to make a nightcap before settling into bed with his book. Some time later he noticed his door was opening slowly; a strange chattering noise accompanied it. Doyle appeared, scowling. He was wrapped in a blanket and clutching his clothes to him. He looked frozen, apart from his chattering teeth, and gave the appearance of some starving Victorian street-Arab, the effect heightened by the white Persian cat draped over one shoulder, mewing piteously, even though he was wearing a thick, custom-made fur coat. At the sight of the fire, Amos leapt down and settled on the rug next to Sam.
"I wasn't expecting you till New Year," said Bodie.
"You have a fire," said Doyle indignantly. "Did you know there isn't one bloody power point on this landing? I've been up and down the corridor trying to find a room with one that wasn't colder than a morgue. Had to wait till they were all in bed. People would think I was crackers, creeping about peering into rooms. She put us up here deliberately! Go on, move your carcass over." He clambered into bed. "Thank goodness," he said, plunging his feet down. They encountered the hot brick wrapped in flannel and he hurriedly stifled his shriek of agony. "What the hell have you got in there?" asked Doyle.
"My hot brick," said Bodie proudly. "A pressie from Cook. All the kids have one too. Great, aren't they?"
In this third episode of the AU Larton series
Bodie and Doyle 'enjoy' a family house-party and being snowed in.
Bodie popped his kettle on - being used to life in cold, damp English and Irish country houses he always came prepared - to make a nightcap before settling into bed with his book. Some time later he noticed his door was opening slowly; a strange chattering noise accompanied it. Doyle appeared, scowling. He was wrapped in a blanket and clutching his clothes to him. He looked frozen, apart from his chattering teeth, and gave the appearance of some starving Victorian street-Arab, the effect heightened by the white Persian cat draped over one shoulder, mewing piteously, even though he was wearing a thick, custom-made fur coat. At the sight of the fire, Amos leapt down and settled on the rug next to Sam.
"I wasn't expecting you till New Year," said Bodie.
"You have a fire," said Doyle indignantly. "Did you know there isn't one bloody power point on this landing? I've been up and down the corridor trying to find a room with one that wasn't colder than a morgue. Had to wait till they were all in bed. People would think I was crackers, creeping about peering into rooms. She put us up here deliberately! Go on, move your carcass over." He clambered into bed. "Thank goodness," he said, plunging his feet down. They encountered the hot brick wrapped in flannel and he hurriedly stifled his shriek of agony. "What the hell have you got in there?" asked Doyle.
"My hot brick," said Bodie proudly. "A pressie from Cook. All the kids have one too. Great, aren't they?"
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