slash_cave (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
slash_cave) wrote2018-12-24 04:10 pm
slash_cave) wrote2018-12-24 04:10 pm
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A State of Flux ~ Part 01
Title: A State of Flux ~ Part 01
Authors
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silvan_lady and gattodoroRating: NC17
Pairing: Slash Cave Regulars
Word Count: 3,535
Warning: The usual - expect craziness and blue pen so stay away from hot liquids, sharp objects etc while reading.
Authors' Note: Wishing you all a very Merry Christmas from the Slash Cave!
A State of Flux
It was Christmas Eve in the Slash Cave and it was even more filled with hot men than usual as all our boys were home for the holidays - who would want to miss Sean being given a good stuffing in the kitchen? The food is usually pretty good too…
In the lounge, Orlando had seized the TV remote and was trying to make space to sit down on the sofa, which was not easy because Karl and Eric regarded it as their personal fiefdom. Eventually, and not without an indecent amount of butt wiggling, Orlando managed to squeeze in between them. It was snug, but who wouldn’t like being the meat in that manwich?
“I love this movie,” said Orlando, as the opening credits come up on ‘Back to the Future’, “it’s one of the first films I saw in the cinema.”
Eric - who was miffed at losing the remote because there was Formula 1 on the other side - said, “Crikey mate, you must be older than you look*, this film is so ancient I’m surprised it’s not in black and white!”
*Of course, nobody ages in the Slash_Cave, we like to keep all of our boys at their absolute peak...
Orlando elbowed Eric none too gently in the ribs, “Shut up old man, it’s a classic and in any case I’m sure you go back to the silent movie era.”
Karl opened his mouth to say something and then thought better of it. There was no way he’d win if he got between Eric and Orlando while they were arguing. Best let them get on with it and then get between them when there was make-up sex on the agenda. In any case, he liked this film too.
Other members of the household drifted in during the course of the film and by the time the final credits went up Sean and Hugh were lounging in armchairs and Viggo, being Viggo, was balanced precariously on a pouffe in the lotus position; nobody knew why.
Orlando turned to Eric, who had been remarkably quiet during the film. “You see, I told you it was a good movie.”
Eric had a faraway look in his eyes, it’s a look that should come with a health warning because it means that he’s thinking, which usually spells trouble for someone. “Mmmm,” he said, “film’s a good ‘un, but the car - did you see the car? She’s a real beaut and that nuclear fusion is shit hot. I’m gonna go out and get myself one just the same.”
“Good luck with that rocket man,” scoffed Hugh, “even the Slash_Cave credit card won’t run to plutonium-powered cars.”
“What do you mean? I thought we had unlimited credit with full monthly settlement thanks to your super hacking skills?” said Eric gruffly. He is prone to get grumpy when told he can’t have his toys.
“It’s not the money that’s the problem, it’s the car. It’s a prop, it doesn’t exist,” Hugh explained patiently, as if to a child.
“Oh,” said Eric. His expression was rather like that of a child finding out that Santa isn’t real. “But I want one,” he whined. “Can’t you write me one?” He looked upwards in appeal; it is amazing what ‘they’ can do when they set their mind to it, but apparently not this time.
“Sorry Eric, we are far too busy wrapping Christmas presents and in any case there are enough motor vehicles on the drive already. Which reminds us, where did that ice-cream van come from?”
There was an awkward silence during which the boys were careful not to look at each other. None of them wanted to explain the ice-cream van, nor the London taxi with rainbow livery which ‘they’ seem not to have noticed yet. Fortunately the reindeer drawn sleigh had gone from the roof…
“Anyway, got to dash, those baubles won’t hang themselves you know. Byeeee!”
‘They’ disappeared in a flash of festive tinsel leaving Eric looking very downcast, which Karl did not like to see; he likes Eric to be up and perky in all ways. “Are you sure there’s not something similar on the market?”
“I really don’t think you can buy a time-travel device,” said Viggo. “It would cause no end of trouble, time-traveling is just too dangerous; just look at the scrapes Captain Jack Harkness gets into with that weird Doctor friend of his.”
“Who?”
No, Who. (boom boom)
“What would you even do with it?” asked Orlando. “It only has two seats so it’d be no use for a group outing and there’s not enough room to shag in it, not safely.”
“Well we could use it to go back in time to when you were a virgin and ‘pluck your cherry’,” said Sean with a snigger. If pushed, he will admit to the occasional deflowering fantasy involving young men with curly hair.
“Well, that sounds like fun,” replied Orlando, who was always up for deflowering.
Oh yes...
“Or we could go back to some significant historical moment,” proposed Viggo, trying to raise the tone.
His efforts were in vain because Karl chipped in with, “To when Sir Ian was a virgin? There were probably dinosaurs then!”
Moving swiftly on...
“Well, strictly speaking the car body did exist,” interjected Sean before the conversation got completely out of hand, “but the firm went bust and I think the few that were made are all in museums now.”
“Ah,” said Karl. He is formulating a plan. He will need all of his stealth, cunning and Google-Fu to pull this one off. This really should come with a health warning!
***&***
The next morning, Christmas morning, Karl enthusiastically reported the results of his research to Viggo. It really is surprising what you can find on the internet; who’d have thought you could buy a 1.21 Gigawatt Flux Capacitor? Viggo was not fully on board with this what with him being woken up by Karl for the experience, but he lay back and thought happy thoughts - mostly involving a naked Orlando writhing on the end of his cock - and consequently may not have fully understood what Karl was telling him. It ought to be pointed out that Orlando had actually got out of bed at six a.m. saying he wanted to see what was in the sack from Father Christmas, but Viggo had only really picked up on ‘in the sack’ which had fueled his dreams very satisfactorily while he waited for Orlando to come back to bed. He was perfectly sure Sean would have locked the door to the living room and hidden the key, so there was very little likelihood of Orlando finding anything until everyone else was ready.
With the benefit of hindsight,Viggo thought he probably should have been much more enthusiastic about the car hire option though to be fair Eric is a capable mechanic so building a vehicle shouldn’t be beyond him, but he really really doesn’t recall encouraging Karl to indulge in any breaking and entering. Not that Karl ever needs encouragement.
Eric was so excited when Karl showed him the design specs for the DeLorean time machine after Christmas dinner that his crankshaft went into overdrive. Consequently the sofa got another pounding but Karl was satisfied. It seemed like his plan was coming together. (As were Eric and Karl, Viggo and Orlando, et al., you get the picture. It happens a lot in the Slash_Cave.) The first problem though was where to acquire a 2.9 litre 1981-1983 DeLorean DMC-12, V6. It appeared that any car would do as long as you had enough plutonium (which was another problem), but Eric was adamant that he wanted a gull wing car and generally what Eric wanted Eric got - one way or another.
Sean did suggest the new McLaren 570S but Eric stated that he flatly refused to drive anything made by a children’s pushchair company. Sean had a hunch that they weren’t talking about the same organisation, but then it occurred to him that fast cars and buggies were both just transport for big kids, so perhaps there weren’t so many differences after all.
“The way I see it, if you're gonna build a time machine into a car, why not do it with some style?” Eric said, with a manic gleam in his eye.
“Okay then, how do you feel about a trip to the New Forest?” asked Karl.
“Don’t they have ponies there? I like ponies. But they’ll be no good for time travel; too much pooping.”
“We aren’t going for the ponies, we are going for the motor museum because they’ve got a DeLorean.”
“Great Scot!”
Departure is delayed several times, first because Eric can never resist a lavish spread on the kitchen table - and we don’t mean food. Then it’s time for Christmas dinner - after the ‘Queen’s speech’ obviously; it’s a tradition for Sir Ian to record a motivational Christmas message. Finally the trip has to be postponed until the morning because everyone is too stuffed to move (or too busy being stuffed).
***&***
Boxing Day morning dawns. It should be an easy two hour drive to the motor museum, but, this being a Slash_Cave adventure, obviously it isn’t that simple. First there has to be a small diversion to the Imperial War Museum, which is conveniently close to the Slash_Cave for a practice heist, and also closed on Boxing Day so that they can ‘visit’ without running over any unwary tourists. The target is one of Hobart’s ‘Funnies’.
“You know, I’ve heard of Ethel Merman, but never a Swimming Sherman,” says Viggo, who can’t resist the rhyme.
“To be honest, they didn’t swim tremendously well,” observes Sean, “but it I imagine it will manage to storm the beaches of Beaulieu as long as you avoid the oil refinery at Fawley and the seas are calm. You can swim, can’t you, guys?”
“‘Course,” says Eric, “have you not seen us in our budgie smugglers?”
“Too right; nearly had my eye out!”
You would think somebody might notice an amphibious tank driving through central London and down the A3. You would think wrongly. Quite apart from the Duck Tours you can hire your own tank for the day, or even park one in your back garden with the guns trained on the local council planning offices. In fact there was a time when no discerning British town would be without its very own tank. Nobody so much as blinked apart from a cab driver who started to swear at Karl for being in the wrong lane at the junction with the South Circular and then realised that he was literally outgunned.
The New Forest is an area of outstanding natural beauty, rather like Orlando, in the opinion of the wielders of the blue pen, but it is also wide open and full of pricks. Which could also describe Orlando, but in fact refers to the open moorland and the gorse bushes. (And before you ask, the New Forest is not all trees.) In fact, the road towards Beaulieu might be considered rather boring, especially when you are a passenger in an amphibious tank with limited visibility. The boys do take turns on top - of the tank, not Orlando, although he’s perfectly willing to keep them entertained - but in general, boredom is setting in when Eric, who is driving, naturally, suddenly yells, “Sandy Balls!”
“I never touched you,” protests Karl, who assumes that if Eric yells balls at anytime the conversation is about him.
Eric indicates the approaching road sign. “No,” he says. “Down there - that road goes to Sandy Balls*.”
“A nudist beach?” asks Viggo perking up. Any mention of removing clothes gets his vote, even when the weather is less than favourable, which is pretty much always in England.
*’They’ explain that, Sandy Balls is a holiday camp, but Viggo will be pleased to know that there is a naturist beach at the, suggestively named, Studland Bay, which is little more than an hour away - or possibly less with Eric driving. We may hear more of this anon, but not this day.
Approaching the National Motor Museum was surprisingly easy. The Beaulieu river ran practically to the front door and luckily for the would-be thieves, the land shelved gently, allowing them to leave the water, turn into the woods after a short distance and follow the river bank until they were on the wrong side of the monorail that ran around the museum perimeter. Driving under the monorail and into the main car park did not present a problem and Eric parked next to some odd looking vehicles that had featured on Top Gear a few years previously.
“Turn off the engine,” hissed Orlando, who was standing on the roof with night vision binoculars. Eric, surprisingly, did as he told.
“What’s up?” whispered Sean.
“There’s a sign on the wall over there. It says ‘G4S 24 hour security patrol this site’. And I can see a torch in the distance.”
“Is the torch moving?”
“Yes, slowly.”
“Guard must be deaf if he didn't hear a bluidy tank roll up! He ought to be running,” Sean said. “But then it is Group 4.”
“Given that we're in a tank and he probably has no weapon at all I'm not sure I’d be running, or least, if I was I'd be going the other way,” Orlando pointed out tersely. He was always up for an adventure but the real possibility of being caught worried him slightly, especially as the wielders of the blue pen seemed to be ignoring this little escapade and prison uniforms offended his fashion sense.
In truth, they weren't ignoring the boys at all but were gleefully wondering just how much trouble the little group could get into before intervention was essential. They were naughty like that sometimes.
The silence seemed to stretch around them in the darkness until Orlando suddenly dropped down beside the others. “Keep very still and we should be okay,” he whispered. “G4S don't train their guards very well. He’s wearing headphones and earmuffs so he probably can’t hear anything at all.”
“But won't he notice a tank?” said Karl fingering a wicked looking katana, another item ‘borrowed’ from the Imperial War museum.
“We are parked between a stretched Mini Cooper and something with four wheels, net curtains and a chandelier,” pointed out Viggo helpfully. “Who’s going to notice a WWII tank wearing a rubber ring?”
His co-conspirators looked at each other and had to agree. Viggo had a point.
“He’s gone!” Orlando breathed a sigh of relief. “We need to get into the main museum before he comes back.”
“On my way!” Eric didn’t have to be asked twice and he exited the narrow turret with surprising agility for a man of his bulk. The others followed rather more cautiously and by the time they caught up with Eric he was standing at the loading bay for the museum which surprisingly appeared to be open. Orlando caught sight of a pair of wire cutters, and a strange blue box with a throbbing red wand in Eric’s hands and decided he didn’t want to know any more. Not because he wasn’t interested, he was, but if he asked Eric to explain the man probably would, at great length, and Orlando really thought they should be moving things along. After all, the sooner they got back to the Slash Cave, the sooner he would get his hands on a different sort of throbbing wand, and it had to be said that one appealed a great deal more.
The incident with the security guard already forgotten, entry to the huge hanger that held most of the vehicles on display at the National Motor Museum was accomplished without further incident. Orlando, who was now dressed entirely in black, (it was partly to permit him to flit through the darkness undetected but mainly because Gatty and Silv liked him that way), switched on the brilliant overhead lights at the main control panel and detected a sound from men gathered behind him that was reminiscent of something he usually heard emanating from the depths of the Slash Sofa. Namely a lust-filled growl from Eric and a chorus of ‘ooohs’ reminiscent of the little green Martians in Toy Story. Only this time the object of desire was not Karl. The big Aussie was standing, trembling slightly like a hunting dog that anticipates being unleashed after prey at any second, and drooling. “Well, fuck me dead!” he said staring out over the sea of automotive wonders spread out in front of him.
Orlando followed his gaze and realised that bringing Eric to the National Motor Museum might not have been a smart move. He looked upwards nervously; ‘they’ wouldn’t let anything dreadful happen, would they? He failed to appreciated that ‘they’ were far too busy dealing with the aftermath of Christmas to be paying any attention at that precise moment.
Viggo had also noticed Eric’s fanatical expression. “Karl,” he said warningly, “I think you need to hang onto Eric. We are only here for the DeLorean, remember? I only painted one sign.”
“What sign?” asked Orlando who was admiring a 1964 Ford Anglia in a delightful shade of powder blue. “My granddad had one of those, only it was full size of course.”
Viggo pulled out a piece of stiff white card which had ‘Removed for renovation’ carefully written on it in black ink. “It’s so they won’t notice that the DeLorean is missing,” he pointed out. “Museums do it all the time.”
Sean wandered over to the Ford and laughed. “This is full size, lad. Cars were a lot smaller fifty years ago!”
Even modern cars could be a tight fit for strapping Antipodeans and Sean was seriously thinking they’d have to deploy a tub of axle grease and a tyre iron (for leverage) to get both Eric and Karl into the DeLorean, but they were saved by the gullwing doors and a lack of respect for each other’s personal space. Getting them out again might be harder - in the Slash Cave hard things were meant to go in... ! The more immediate problem, Orlando thought, was going to be fuelling the car so that it could be driven away, but as he opened his mouth to express this opinion he took a step back and promptly fell over a jerry can of petrol which would have been unfeasibly opportune had ‘they’ not still been lurking somewhere to fill in plot holes with a splash of blue ink.
The jerry can didn’t actually cause much surprise as it might have done as there was a full-size replica of an American gas station from the 1950s in the centre of the car exhibition area. Sean was moved to wonder if the owners of the blue pen fully appreciated the danger of leaving fuel anywhere near Eric, but he had to admit it would be a great deal easier to use that until they could source some plutonium.
Eric, Karl and the DeLorean disappeared with a puff of smoke and a throaty roar - from the car not Eric - leaving Viggo, Orlando and Sean standing disconsolately in the hangar.
“I am NOT driving back to the Slash Cave in that tank,” said Sean firmly. The amphibious vehicle had lousy suspension, which was hell on the spine, and it seemed to have sprung a leak during its river crossing. Sean was wearing a brand new pair of hand-stitched calfskin Oxfords, a Christmas present to himself; he was damned if he was going to allow the leather to get stained on their first outing. “Let’s take that one,” he said, pointing to a venerable vehicle, “the information board says it can go very fast by air, sea, or land!”
Viggo opened his mouth to repeat his sentence about only painting one ‘removed for renovation’ sign, but shut it again when he realised that the car of Sean’s choice was a fictional vehicle and therefore, technically speaking, couldn’t be stolen. Anyway, he’d always wanted a ride in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Orlando approved of anything involving banging on principle and gave ‘them’ his best puppy dog expression until ‘they’ sploshed around sufficient blue ink to get the car moving. Unfortunately ‘they’ had already been on the Prosecco, else they would have remembered to write in a homing device of some sort. Their failure to do so meant that Sean took charge of navigation and as a consequence the imaginary car dropped out of its imaginary flight path in Sheffield rather than London, this being more convenient for the Boxing Day fixture at Bramall Lane
Just as well that the Slash Cave has a northern outpost ‘they’ thought, putting down their wine glasses just long enough to ‘blue pen’ the DeLorean and its occupants from Piccadilly Circus (Eric was determined to take advantage of the holiday Congestion Charge suspension to see the sights) to the further reaches of the M1. Once all the boys were ‘bedded down’ for the night, ‘they’ removed temptation by taking away the car keys.
To be more precise, ‘they’ removed automotive temptation - my goodness the soft furnishings took some punishment overnight!
Part 02
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Well done!!
:)
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WELL DONE!!!
:)
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*hugs*
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There are far too many funny lines to quote but I especially agree with the description of Orlando as an area of outstanding natural beauty *g*.
Obviously 'they' are wicked, wicked people, for allowing the boys out in to the wilds without adequate supervision. And I don't see any way at all that this venture can possibly end well.
But on the other hand - I LOVED it!
And yes, you are both completely insane!
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Is 'inventive' a euphemism for 'deranged'?
As you know, it is a struggle to keep the Slash Cave boys in check, but so much more fun when we just let them run riot.
The Sofa boys miss you...
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'A lack of respect for each other’s personal space'
I wonder how they are coping with Social-Distancing nowadays...*giggles*
EDIT: You did warned...I just didn't follow your warning.
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Hope the liquid refreshment didn't make too much mess! ;-)
Thanks for visiting the Cave!