Fic: Not a creature was stirring, LoM
Title: Not a creature was stirring...
Author: elfbert
Recipient: gritsinmisery
Rating: Blue Cortina
Word Count: 2168
Notes/Warnings: Erm..none, don't think. Well, unbeta'd...sorry. Written for the Armed Bastards Christmas exchange.
Summary: Waiting is the hardest part...
Prompt: Ray/Chris, Christmas Eve or New Year's Eve. "I'm never up much past midnight."
Ray shifted, stretching out his legs, trying to fend off the pins and needles that threatened.
“Y’okay?” Chris asked in a low voice.
Ray looked up from his book. “Aye. You?”
Chris nodded.
Ray looked at his watch and gave a small sigh. The afternoon was wearing on and there was no hint of anything happening. He looked over to Chris, who was stretched out in his sleeping bag, reading a Commando war comic.
“’M gonna go an’ see if the Guv an’ Boss want owt t’eat,” he announced.
Chris nodded and Ray stood, stretching out, joints cracking. He silently pulled the door open and stood for a long moment, listening. Then he walked down the corridor and pushed open another door.
Sam was sitting cross-legged on the floor, reading a thick hardbound book and Gene was cheating at a game of patience, cards scattered around him on the floor.
Ray nodded a greeting, then sank to one knee on the floor. “Were gonna cook up some dinner, ‘f you two want to come over?” he said softly.
Sam smiled. “And what’s on the menu tonight, Sergeant?”
“Soup an’ bread. An’ your choice of Dairy Milk or a Mars Bar for afters.”
“Any sign of action?” Gene asked unnecessarily.
“Just gonna have a walk around,” Ray answered. Come over whenever you want.”
He stood up and walked slowly down the corridors, his trainers making no sound on the concrete floor. He listened at the main armoured door, but there was absolutely no sound. Then he made his way to the main vault, walking around it and glancing into the cash offices which surrounded it. Finally he headed back to the room he was sharing with Chris.
“There’s nowt happenin’,” he reported, pulling the small camping stove out of his bag. “Open a coupla tins of soup, will you?”
Chris struggled out of his sleeping bag and nodded, reaching into the provisions bag. He sat and opened the tins, then poured the contents into a saucepan. A noise made him look up and Sam and Gene walked into the room, Sam propping the door open wide.
“Sit down, Guv, Boss,” Chris smiled. “’S like campin’, this. Used to go campin’ wi’ me mum an’ dad an’ sister, in Wales.”
“Yeah, I did too,” Sam answered. “Sitting in your tent, with the wind and rain, imagining what was out there, the animals, the noises…”
Ray snorted. “Well there’s no need t’imagine now - there’s a gang of blagger’s jus’ waiting to tunnel in ‘ere an’ rob the place blind.”
Gene looked around the grey walls and concrete floor. “’S more like an air raid shelter, anyway. Jus’ waiting for an’ explosion to rip through it.”
“Aye, ‘t is an’ all,” Ray answered, stirring the soup slowly. “’Cept there’s a real carsey an’ no kids are screamin’.”
Chris looked around. He’d often wondered what it would have been like, living through the war. But he’d always imagined being a soldier, or a pilot. He glanced across to his comic books, each one filled with heroes and stories of good triumphing over evil.
“Me Mam an’ Dad met in a shelter,” he said. “Me Dad was home on leave, stayin’ with his family, and they lived just down the road from me Gran an’ Grandad.”
“Cathedral Steps were the best in Manchester,” Ray answered. “Massive it were - hundreds of them bunks, three high. We used to get put in ‘em, two kids in each. Was better’n most.”
Gene grunted. “Old public toilets, weren’t it, so plenty of crappers.”
“An’ reckon the canal were the worst.”
“You slept in the canal?” Chris frowned.
“There used to be a bomb shelter in the old canal tunnel under the city, Chris,” Sam replied.
“Can still get in it now,” Ray answered. “You stay down there, Boss?”
“I…uh…yes, once,” Sam replied, trying to remember his history lessons at school.
“Bloody ‘orrible an’ damp it were,” Ray continued.
“Weren’t it kinda…fun?” Chris asked. “I mean…like this? It’s sorta…ain’t it?” he looked around at the other three.
“Can think of better ways to spend Christmas Eve,” Gene grumbled.
Sam shrugged. “I suppose it is quite nice - companionship, comrades in arms, that sort of thing.”
Ray gave him a withering look. “I’d rather ‘ave all that in the pub, ta.”
“I’ve always spent it at ‘ome with me family,” Chris replied, handing over the plastic bowls to Ray, then watching as the soup was poured out.
“’S bread there,” Ray pointed as he handed out the meal.
“Me Gran comes over, an’ we all ‘ave a nice dinner on Christmas Eve night, then she stays over, an’ in the morning, we ‘ave breakfast, then me mum an’ Gran get the dinner on t’cook, and we open presents an’ that. Then it’s time for lunch. And after, me an’ me Dad wash up, then he ‘as a sleep. An’ we ‘ave leftovers for supper.”
“We used to open one present the night before,” Sam answered. “Then the rest after lunch.”
Gene sank his slice of bread into the soup, soaking it well. “I ‘elp the missus do the cooking. Presents after lunch. Then some of ‘er family might come around. Last few years me mum’s been coming ‘round for lunch too. Harder for her to cope now.”
All eyes turned expectantly on Ray, who looked up from blowing on his hot soup.
“Get ‘ome when Nelson finally kicks us out, get up when I need a piss an’ a drink, watch a bit of telly, ‘s about it.”
Chris slurped his soup up noisily. “I’m never up much past midnight. Me Mam says Santa won’t come if I’m up late.”
Ray grinned. “Santa?”
“I know he ain’t real, like, but…I still get presents…so…”
“That’s nice,” Sam nodded. “It’s nice to keep traditions alive.”
“Well let’s not make this one, ‘ey?” Ray answered, gesturing to their surroundings. “An’ these blaggers better bloody turn up soon. I don’t want to be ‘ere into Boxin’ Day ‘n all. Not with no booze.”
Gene coughed, then pulled a hip flask from his pocket. “Might be able to help there.”
“In moderation - I hope,” Sam said, his tone disapproving.
“Oh, give over, it’s Christmas bloody Eve,” Gene twisted the top off and took a swig, then passed the flask to Ray.
“An’ a merry Christmas t’you an’ all,” Ray saluted Gene with it before taking a long pull.
Chris took a small sip before handing it on to Sam, who looked around, then shrugged, and sipped it himself.
He wondered what he would be doing, if he weren’t stuck underneath a bank on a stake out. Probably much the same as Ray had planned - staying at home, alone. He looked across at Ray, who was neatly stacking the dishes.
“Got chocolate,” Chris put in, holding up the bars.
Ray grabbed a Dairy Milk and scooted around so he was lying on his side.
“Can do some water for coffee, if anyone needs t’stay awake,” he offered.
“So domesticated,” Sam muttered, biting into a Mars Bar.
Ray shrugged. “Jus’ used to long watches wi’ nowt ‘appening.”
“Who’s taking your first shift?” Sam asked.
Ray shrugged and looked at Chris.
“Me, s’pose, Boss,” Chris volunteered. “An’ you?”
“I am,” Gene said.
“Any hint of anything - even if you’re not sure, wake us,” Sam insisted.
“An’ let’s jus’ hope there’s not rats down ‘ere,” Ray chipped in, causing Chris to glance around.
Once they had finished eating Ray wiped the dishes out, wary of running any water and alerting anyone nearby to their presence. All of them were super-aware of making any noise, which might transmit through the concrete, whilst hoping that any noise of the gang who were apparently going to tunnel in would be immediately audible.
Sam and Gene headed back to their room, on the other side of the vault, armed with two steaming mugs of coffee and all four of them settled down for a long wait.
“’M gonna ‘ave a piss,” Chris announced, getting up.
“’Ave a quick walk ‘round too. An’ be quiet. No flushing, right?”
Chris nodded obediently.
Ray packed away the cooking gear and made sure everything was neat in case they did need to move fast. Then he dragged his sleeping bag over to Chris’s.
When Chris returned Ray was lying on his front, reading his book again. Chris smiled when he saw their sleeping bags next to each other. Their relationship was young - still in the uncertain stages where neither of them seemed to know exactly what to do. Chris wasn’t entirely sure if they’d have spent Christmas together, had the stakeout not been on.
He stepped over Ray and noticed something on his pillow.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Christmas present,” Ray answered, without looking up from his book.
Chris picked up the paper bag and opened it. “Sweets!” he smiled, reaching in and pulling out one of the penny sweets and throwing it into his mouth. “All my favourites,” he added after glancing into the bag and extracting a flying saucer.
Then he noticed that there was also a small pile of comics on his pillow - all the latest ones that he’d mentioned he wanted to get a few days earlier, but somehow there had never been time.
He stretched out next to Ray, sliding his foot down the back of Ray’s leg. “Thanks,” he grinned.
Ray gave a small smile. “’S okay.”
Chris rubbed his shoulder against Ray’s as he turned the first page of his new comic. He revelled in the feel of warmth coming from Ray’s body and snuggled up a little more. The heating had been turned off when the last staff left at lunchtime and the building was becoming decidedly chilly.
“Get in under the sleepin’ bag ‘f you want,” Ray said.
Chris nodded, climbing inside and returning to his reading, his hand periodically dipping into the bag of sweets.
Then his fingers discovered something hard and cold, instead of the expected foam shrimp. He frowned and pulled out the object, “Ray,” he started, before realising what it was he held. Then he fell silent.
Ray glanced across and smiled to himself.
“This…it’s the key to your flat,” Chris said incredulously.
“Aye. So you can come an’ go whenever you want.”
Chris smiled widely, then grabbed Ray and kissed him hard, making Ray laugh. They lay on the sleeping bags, Chris resting his head on Ray’s chest, the key still held tightly in his palm.
He listened to Ray’s breathing deepen and knew he was asleep. He stayed where he was, super-alert to any sounds, occasionally opening his hand and looking at the gold-coloured key, making sure he wasn’t dreaming.
Finally he knew he couldn’t stay awake any longer, so he shook Ray gently.
“Ray? I gotta sleep. Can you take over a bit?”
Ray woke and scrubbed his hand over his face, blinking at Chris. “Wha’? Summat happen?”
Chris shook his head. “’M just sleepy, Ray.”
“Aye, all right.” Ray sat up and yawned widely. “You get some kip.”
Ray leant against the wall, the concrete cold through his jumper. Chris settled down to sleep, one hand draped over Ray’s thigh. He was sound asleep in moments and Ray smiled down at him, just restraining himself from stroking Chris’s hair.
He reached for his book, stole a sherbet lemon from Chris’s bag of sweets and settled down for a long boring wait.
It was over an hour later that he heard the first sound. He stopped reading and concentrated. There was nothing for a long while and then another slight noise. He tensed, shaking Chris’s shoulder and immediately holding his finger to his lips as Chris awoke and looked up at him.
“They’re here,” he said very softly. “Gonna go an’ tell the others.”
Chris’s eyes were wide with fear, so Ray stroked his palm down Chris’s cheek.
“We’ll be okay,” he smiled. “An’ ‘ome in time for Christmas dinner ‘n all.”
Chris nodded.
Ray walked silently through the corridor, the rustling of his clothes sounding far too loud.
He pushed open the door and gave Sam the thumbs up. “They’re ‘ere, Boss,” he said in a low voice.
“The thieves?” Sam asked.
“Nah, St Nick an’ ‘is bleedin’ elves,” Ray answered, rolling his eyes. “So be a good boy or you’ll get a lump o’ coal.”
Five minutes later the four of them were waiting, guns drawn. The only sounds that broke the silence were the drills biting into the concrete on the other side of the wall.
Then for long minutes there were only the tiniest of scrabbling sounds.
Sam glanced at the others. Chris still looked terrified. Gene shrugged. Ray frowned. Then he looked back at Sam.
“Guv…did your snout say owt about…dynamite?” he asked.
The world seemed to split apart as the explosion wrenched into the small space. Dust and dirt and grit carried on the shockwave slammed into them.
~Fin...maybe??