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fan_flashworks2019-07-03 01:40 am
caveat_lector) wrote in fan_flashworks2019-07-03 01:40 am
Entry tags:
The Libertines: Fic: Dave the Bad News Demon
Title: Dave the Bad News Demon
Fandom: The Libertines
Characters: Carl Barât, Peter Doherty
Rating: Mature
Length: 1100
Notes: Peter and Carl decide it's time they did things their way. Part of an AU series but stands alone too.
Content notes: None
"So, there's these photos..."
It's one of those harmless bland and mousy kids Carl's management (or as Peter likes to say, the Powers of Darkness) occasionally send round, though not usually at ten o'clock at night. He doesn't know why they bother, it's not like innocence or youth is going to save them if Peter feels like messing with their heads, and Carl doesn't care enough to save them. Especially if they're bringing bad news.
Photos they have to look at right now are usually bad news.
Peter takes his coat off and drapes it around the kid's shoulders. "There, you must be freezing up here."
It's a warm day and the kid's probably just driven down to Margate from London. His forehead creases in confusion, but he's too polite to question it.
Carl snorts and turns it into a cough.
"So, the photos--" The kid blushes as he hands them reluctantly to Peter. It's not like he has a choice, Carl is still lounging on the window sill with a fag in his hand and planning to stay there until his bum goes numb or the kid pisses off, whichever happens first. "Well, there's a video as well."
"Oh, show us that, then." Peter drops the envelope of photos, shuffles into the seat next to the kid and winks at Carl. "Is it porn? I'm not sure you're old enough for that-- though they probably have different rules where you come from."
"...Grimsby?" the kid says hesitantly, making Carl spit his cigarette out of the open window, much to his annoyance. He presses play obediently anyway, doing nothing to improve Carl's opinion of modern youth.
There's no real sound, just some rustling of trees or air or something, but Peter smiles after a moment.
"The bandstand," he says, and his face softens. His eyes are warm when he looks towards Carl. Flirty. He's such a tart.
"Oh." Years ago he would have freaked out, did freak out more than once, but not now. He smiles back. "That was quite a night."
"Can I have a copy?" Peter says, turning the phone round and upside down, as if he could take the video out physically. "How do I work this hell-spawned device anyway?"
It's a perfectly normal phone that Peter knows quite well how to use, but the kid is stammering explanations like he might to a doddering grandpa. "I can send it to you if you want," he says finally, when Peter gives it him back, looking disappointed.
"That's going to cause a stir on Twitter," Carl says, when the kid's done the deed. He jumps down from the window sill and squeezes in on the other side of him on the sofa.
"Thanks," Peter says, prodding at his phone. He flicks a glance Carl's way with a raised eyebrow, and smiles when Carl nods. "You're not a bad sort for a demon."
"Um," says the kid. "My name's Dave..."
Of course it is.
"That's a funny name for a demon," Peter says conversationally. "You might want to think about changing that to something more intimidating."
"… right," Dave says faintly.
He seems to be shrinking smaller and smaller in the space between them, though it's possible he and Peter are moving closer together. That happens quite a lot, or so other people say. Carl doesn't really give a fuck either way. The kid can disappear up his own backside if he feels like it.
"You're not really going to put it on Twitter, are you?" Dave asks, while Carl starts the video up again.
It's just a couple of vague figures at first, but the focus narrows and zooms, and-- oh yeah, that's him leaning in to Peter, pushing him against the wall, and those are Peter's hands gripping his arse to pull him in closer. Carl can't remember how long they kissed, but he can see it's starting to heat up already and they've barely started.
"So Baz thought--"
"How is good old Beelzebub?" Peter asks, not taking his eyes off the screen. "Has he eaten any babies lately?"
"Um," Dave says, and Carl meets Peter's eyes in time to see him mouth 'That isn't a no' silently.
"Never mind Baz," Carl says. "What do you think we should do, Dave?"
"Er, well, we could buy the pictures and video," Dave says. "Stop them being released."
Carl has more than a passing suspicion that he's still hearing what Baz thinks they should do.
"Or we could say it's not what it looks like."
"The problem with that," Carl says, and he suspects he's smirking, "is that it is exactly what it looks like."
"A moment of weakness that, um, didn't go any further?" Dave suggests desperately, looking harried now.
Peter turns an incredulous face to Carl over Dave's head.
"Carl, do you think anyone's going to watch that and think 'oh, next they probably just shook hands and went their separate ways'?"
Carl laughs, and he'd feel mean but this Dave kid is the worst one yet. "Pretty sure 99% of people will think we went home and shagged like crazed weasels."
"Which we did." Peter grins.
"Which we did." Carl grins back, and really, it's time Dave left because he's going to get an eyeful if he's still here in about thirty seconds.
"So..." Dave is floundering, though frankly Carl's surprised he isn't in flames by now, with the heat he can feel building up between him and Peter.
All that hell fire must build up resistance.
"Basically, Dave, we don't give a fuck," Peter says, clambering over the sofa cushions to get to Carl. "We're just going to carry on as we are, thanks. No payments, no speeches, no announcements, no anything."
Carl meets him halfway. "Except shagging like crazed weasels, right?"
"Oh yeah," Peter breathes, snaking one long arm around Carl's waist. "Lots of that."
"… and Twitter?" Dave asks, scrambling towards the door.
"Already posted it," Peter says, nuzzling up to Carl's cheek. His hands are everywhere, and Carl's brain is short-circuiting-- wait, no, that's just Dave's phone ringing. "That's probably your Demon Overlord now, waving his pitchfork around."
Dave whimpers, but whether that's because his boss is on the phone or because Carl just stuck his hand down Peter's underwear is going to have to remain a mystery, because Carl is fully occupied right now, thanks.
As is Peter, with his phone, of all things.
"Going for the sequel," he shrugs, as if it's obvious, and Carl supposes it sort of is.
Fandom: The Libertines
Characters: Carl Barât, Peter Doherty
Rating: Mature
Length: 1100
Notes: Peter and Carl decide it's time they did things their way. Part of an AU series but stands alone too.
Content notes: None
"So, there's these photos..."
It's one of those harmless bland and mousy kids Carl's management (or as Peter likes to say, the Powers of Darkness) occasionally send round, though not usually at ten o'clock at night. He doesn't know why they bother, it's not like innocence or youth is going to save them if Peter feels like messing with their heads, and Carl doesn't care enough to save them. Especially if they're bringing bad news.
Photos they have to look at right now are usually bad news.
Peter takes his coat off and drapes it around the kid's shoulders. "There, you must be freezing up here."
It's a warm day and the kid's probably just driven down to Margate from London. His forehead creases in confusion, but he's too polite to question it.
Carl snorts and turns it into a cough.
"So, the photos--" The kid blushes as he hands them reluctantly to Peter. It's not like he has a choice, Carl is still lounging on the window sill with a fag in his hand and planning to stay there until his bum goes numb or the kid pisses off, whichever happens first. "Well, there's a video as well."
"Oh, show us that, then." Peter drops the envelope of photos, shuffles into the seat next to the kid and winks at Carl. "Is it porn? I'm not sure you're old enough for that-- though they probably have different rules where you come from."
"...Grimsby?" the kid says hesitantly, making Carl spit his cigarette out of the open window, much to his annoyance. He presses play obediently anyway, doing nothing to improve Carl's opinion of modern youth.
There's no real sound, just some rustling of trees or air or something, but Peter smiles after a moment.
"The bandstand," he says, and his face softens. His eyes are warm when he looks towards Carl. Flirty. He's such a tart.
"Oh." Years ago he would have freaked out, did freak out more than once, but not now. He smiles back. "That was quite a night."
"Can I have a copy?" Peter says, turning the phone round and upside down, as if he could take the video out physically. "How do I work this hell-spawned device anyway?"
It's a perfectly normal phone that Peter knows quite well how to use, but the kid is stammering explanations like he might to a doddering grandpa. "I can send it to you if you want," he says finally, when Peter gives it him back, looking disappointed.
"That's going to cause a stir on Twitter," Carl says, when the kid's done the deed. He jumps down from the window sill and squeezes in on the other side of him on the sofa.
"Thanks," Peter says, prodding at his phone. He flicks a glance Carl's way with a raised eyebrow, and smiles when Carl nods. "You're not a bad sort for a demon."
"Um," says the kid. "My name's Dave..."
Of course it is.
"That's a funny name for a demon," Peter says conversationally. "You might want to think about changing that to something more intimidating."
"… right," Dave says faintly.
He seems to be shrinking smaller and smaller in the space between them, though it's possible he and Peter are moving closer together. That happens quite a lot, or so other people say. Carl doesn't really give a fuck either way. The kid can disappear up his own backside if he feels like it.
"You're not really going to put it on Twitter, are you?" Dave asks, while Carl starts the video up again.
It's just a couple of vague figures at first, but the focus narrows and zooms, and-- oh yeah, that's him leaning in to Peter, pushing him against the wall, and those are Peter's hands gripping his arse to pull him in closer. Carl can't remember how long they kissed, but he can see it's starting to heat up already and they've barely started.
"So Baz thought--"
"How is good old Beelzebub?" Peter asks, not taking his eyes off the screen. "Has he eaten any babies lately?"
"Um," Dave says, and Carl meets Peter's eyes in time to see him mouth 'That isn't a no' silently.
"Never mind Baz," Carl says. "What do you think we should do, Dave?"
"Er, well, we could buy the pictures and video," Dave says. "Stop them being released."
Carl has more than a passing suspicion that he's still hearing what Baz thinks they should do.
"Or we could say it's not what it looks like."
"The problem with that," Carl says, and he suspects he's smirking, "is that it is exactly what it looks like."
"A moment of weakness that, um, didn't go any further?" Dave suggests desperately, looking harried now.
Peter turns an incredulous face to Carl over Dave's head.
"Carl, do you think anyone's going to watch that and think 'oh, next they probably just shook hands and went their separate ways'?"
Carl laughs, and he'd feel mean but this Dave kid is the worst one yet. "Pretty sure 99% of people will think we went home and shagged like crazed weasels."
"Which we did." Peter grins.
"Which we did." Carl grins back, and really, it's time Dave left because he's going to get an eyeful if he's still here in about thirty seconds.
"So..." Dave is floundering, though frankly Carl's surprised he isn't in flames by now, with the heat he can feel building up between him and Peter.
All that hell fire must build up resistance.
"Basically, Dave, we don't give a fuck," Peter says, clambering over the sofa cushions to get to Carl. "We're just going to carry on as we are, thanks. No payments, no speeches, no announcements, no anything."
Carl meets him halfway. "Except shagging like crazed weasels, right?"
"Oh yeah," Peter breathes, snaking one long arm around Carl's waist. "Lots of that."
"… and Twitter?" Dave asks, scrambling towards the door.
"Already posted it," Peter says, nuzzling up to Carl's cheek. His hands are everywhere, and Carl's brain is short-circuiting-- wait, no, that's just Dave's phone ringing. "That's probably your Demon Overlord now, waving his pitchfork around."
Dave whimpers, but whether that's because his boss is on the phone or because Carl just stuck his hand down Peter's underwear is going to have to remain a mystery, because Carl is fully occupied right now, thanks.
As is Peter, with his phone, of all things.
"Going for the sequel," he shrugs, as if it's obvious, and Carl supposes it sort of is.
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