nepthys_uk (nepthys_uk) wrote in 1973flashfic,
nepthys_uk
nepthys_uk
1973flashfic

Own Devices challenge, by nepthys_uk, Blue Cortina


Title: Devious Devices

Author: nepthys_uk

Rating: Blue Cortina

Word count: approx. 1500

Disclaimer: LoM belongs to Kudos and the BBC.  No money being made here.

Notes: I have finally committed crack!fic – shoot me now! I’d like to dedicate this as lighthearted tribute to the utterly fab LoM fandom: to writers, readers and lurkers everywhere (whether you like it or not!) – this one’s for you. *raises pint of crème de menthe* .
Special thanks for enabling and beta'ing and generally being a good egg go to the splendid draycevixen</lj>.

***

 

“I have to do what?!” Sam’s face twisted into an expression of mingled disbelief and disgust.

 

The criminal mastermind sighed. “It’s really very simple, DI Tyler.”

 

“Hang on, hang on - let me get this straight. You’ve knocked me out--”

 

“I didn’t think you’d come quietly.”

 

“—tied me up—”

 

“Yes, but you do look so appealing in handcuffs.”

 

“—and now you’re telling me that unless I do what you say, Gene – DCI Hunt - will die?”

 

“That’s right.”

 

“A horrible, agonising death?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And to save him I have to….?”

 

“Have sex with him.”

 

What?!”

 

“Preferably in the manner of sex-crazed weasels who haven’t had it away for months.”

 

Sam spluttered for a moment. “But why?”

 

“Well, because it’s more entertaining than if you just have a boring old lie-back-and-think-of-England shag…”

 

“No! For fuck’s sake! I mean why the hell would me having sex with Gene save his life?”

 

“Ah.” The criminal mastermind sat back in the leather chair, idly stroking the ginger cat on her lap. “Well, see, that’s on account of the device.”

 

“You fiendish bitch! What device? Where is he? What have you done to him?!” Sam rattled his handcuff against the radiator in impotent fury.

 

“Oh, nothing – as yet.”

 

“What are you talking about - some sort of explosive device? Have you got him wired? Or the Cortina – oh shit, have you rigged the car?!”

 

“No.”

 

“You aren’t talking about torturing him, are you, because if you are—”

 

The criminal mastermind waved a carefully manicured hand with calculated carelessness. “No, nothing like that.”

 

“Not some sort of horrible medical device, or some sort of aphrodisiac drug, or something?”

 

“No. No, I’m afraid it’s much worse than that…”

 

“Oh my God – you don’t mean—”

 

“Yes, DI Tyler – it’s a plot device! Bwahahaha!!!”

 

The cat gave a low growl.

 

“No! Oh God no…” Sam’s mouth went dry.

 

“Oh yes. And there’s really no getting out of it.” The criminal mastermind gave a bright, if evil, smile.

 

Sam swallowed convulsively. “Look - we can talk about this. Tell me what it is you really want and I’ll try to help you…”

 

“I’m afraid this isn’t open to negotiation, DI Tyler. What I want is to see, in graphic detail – this is NC-17, you understand – two unconventionally sexy blokes going at it like rabbits on Viagra.” She scratched behind the cat’s ears. “And it doesn’t matter what clever schemes you come up with because, as you know, plot devices are able to defy all logic quite, quite effortlessly.”

 

Sam stared at her in horror.

 

“Well, look on the bright side--”

 

“What? Will I finally get to go home?” Sam eyes were alight with hope.

 

“Yes!” She beamed. Then gave a small shrug. “Well, no, not really. But feel free to believe that, if that helps. What I meant was that once you get going you will find that your natural metrosexuality is due to something other than an overly-liberal outlook on life.”

 

“You what?”

 

The cat yawned.

 

“Oh, come, now, DI Tyler. Consider the fact that you are so in touch with your feelings. That you lie awake at night replaying that first time DCI Hunt slammed you up against the now-notorious filing cabinet. You like paperwork and talking to girls. You even like cooking, for God’s sake.”

 

“You mean I’m gay?!”

 

“‘Gagging for cock’, is, I think, the preferred phrase. Well, so long as said cock is attached to DCI Hunt, of course. Oh, and don’t worry – he is, too.”

 

“But – Gene’s married.”

 

“Not any more. Didn’t you read page 4? Oh, that’s right, it wasn’t your point of view, was it. Oh well, never mind.”

 

The cat gave its head a shake, blinking crossly.

 

Sam’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “But Gene’s about as homophobic as they come…”

 

“An interesting choice of words, DI Tyler. And I think you’ll find, if you survey the evidence, that you are almost entirely wrong.”

 

“You mean…?”

 

The criminal mastermind gave a frustrated huff and the cat jumped to the ground with a hiss. “That his bolshy, aggressive, crude and rude persona is just a façade to cover his insecurities, heightened by his being in denial of his true sexual orientation all these years, of course.” She gave a laugh, displaying white, perfectly even teeth. “I mean, what did you think all that male bonding was about, for heaven’s sake?”

 

Sam’s mouth dropped open.

 

“And although he doesn’t know it yet, DCI Hunt is about to unleash all those pent-up desires on you, you lucky, lucky young man.”

 

“I still don’t—”

 

The criminal mastermind tsked as she brushed cat hairs from her impeccably tailored trousers. “The main thing is that he’ll make a big fuss – shout a bit, probably throw you around, punch you in the kidneys, that sort of thing – but once he buries himself in your firm and delightfully tight arse he’ll be quite happy.”

 

“In my what?!”

 

“You didn’t think he was going to be the one biting the pillow, did you? Look, you’ll enjoy it. Honestly.” She leaned forward in her chair and gave Sam a wink. “He can keep his coat and driving gloves on, if it will help get you in the mood.”

 

“In the mood?!” Sam lunged forwards, startling the cat, but was jerked to a halt by the handcuffs.

 

“Oh dear. I can tell you’re a bit upset. Here - why don’t you have a nice cup of tea and a pink wafer to calm yourself down, hmm? Save that anguished expression for later – there’s going to be a fair bit of angst before the happy ending, you know, and we can’t have you peaking too soon, dramatically speaking.”

 

Dazed, Sam took a mouthful from the mug of tea which had miraculously appeared on the floor by his side. He cleared his throat. “So…I have to let Gene shag me in order to save his life--”

 

“He has to give you a good hard ploughing, that’s right.”

 

“Otherwise he’ll definitely die, no matter how else I try to save him?”

 

“Now you’ve got it. Or at least you will be getting it - very soon, with a bit of luck.” She rubbed her hands together with more than a little glee.

 

The cat stepped delicately closer to Sam, sniffing cautiously at the leg of his flared brown cords.

 

“Can no-one else do it?”

 

“No, I’m afraid a supporting character simply wouldn’t cut the mustard on this occasion.”

 

“But…we’ll both end up enjoying it?”

 

“Oh yes. Coming all over the place. Probably simultaneously. Maybe even repeatedly, displaying hitherto unsuspected – not to mention unlikely – powers of recovery.”

 

“Er…but I won’t get back to 2006…”

 

“Ah, no. That simply wouldn’t go down well. Unlike you.”

 

“What?”

 

“Oh sorry, I’m jumping ahead.”

 

Sam bit his lower lip, unconsciously reaching out a hand to scratch the cat’s head. “You’re sure about this?”

 

“Oh yes.” The criminal mastermind examined her fingernails, painted a shade of red almost, but not quite exactly, the colour of fresh blood. “You just need to get the fighting and the crying, being tormented by the Test Card Girl, having horrible delusions about being in hospital, drinking too much whisky and getting shot in the leg, out of the way first.” She beamed. “Then it’s plain sailing all the way!”

 

“Well…I suppose that doesn’t sound too bad…”

 

“Atta boy!”

 

“But I’m not shagging on that crap fold-out bed.”

 

The criminal mastermind quirked an exquisitely shaped eyebrow.

 

Sam raised his chin defiantly. “I want a futon.”

 

“Oh come along! You know full well that would be out of historical context for 1973!”

 

“Don’t care.”

 

“Look, I can’t do you a futon, but you can have a double bed. With a nice firm mattress.”

 

Sam pressed his lips together stubbornly.

 

“How about if I throw in a bit of spanking and Gene talking dirty? He’s really very good at it, you know.”

 

Sam shifted uncomfortably. “Well…there really isn’t any alternative?”

 

“I’m afraid not. This really is a cast-iron plot device, not a mere MacGuffin. Deus ex machina, if you will.”

 

Sam sighed. “I suppose when you put it like that...”

 

The cat rubbed against his ankles.

 

“That’s the ticket.” The criminal mastermind gave him a winning smile. “Best to just suspend your disbelief and get on with it, I find.”

 

“But – we will have a happy ending, right?”

 

“Absolutely. Orgasms galore. Enough to make your eyes water and your head swim. You might even pass out.”

 

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, but what about longer term? I’m not just in this for a one-off, you know.”

 

The criminal mastermind steepled her fingers. “Hmm. Well, I might be able to help with that. What were you thinking – gruff, blokey occasional shagging-but-not-talking-about-it, or exchanging vows and rings?”

 

Sam’s eyes slanted ceiling-wards as he considered. “Somewhere between the two, I think.”

 

“Well, I think I can manage that. A few minor re-writes. Maybe an epilogue. How does that sound?”

 

Sam nodded, then his expression became calculating. He leaned forward. “And Ashes to Ashes?”

 

She smiled, knowingly. “Never happened. Not in my personal canon.”

 

A crafty smile spread across Sam’s features as he proffered his handcuffed wrist.

 

The cat began to purr.


***

Author's note: I am stretching the prompt a bit with this one, but it was inspired by this funny meta piece I recently read in The Sentinel fandom (as pimped by the delightfully pointy-headed draycevixen) - it really applies to all slash fandoms and it's well worth a read. This fic is also a result of finding myself frustrated with the plot of the long AU I’m currently wrestling with – if only things could be this simple *sigh*.

 

 
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