'Poolside' - a story based on 'Mad Dogs' starring John Simm, Philip Glenister, Marc Warren, Max Beesley and Ben Chaplin.
NB: Contains scenes of an adult nature.
Title: Poolside (6/?)
Author: Edzel2 (with heartfelt thanks to my Beta, Jinxed)
Genre: ‘Mad Dogs’
Rating: Adult
Summary: The day from hell turns into an even bigger nightmare as Alvo is brutally gunned down in front of his four stunned guests. What will this mean for the four men, whose relationships are complicated enough already?
Previously... ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake Bax...’ Quinn steps forward and grabs Baxter by the arms and pulls him into a hug. The shorter man stiffens and tries to pull away but Quinn tightens his hold, speaks quietly, his voice muffled against the side of Baxter’s head.
‘Bax, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to upset you. And you’re right; I’m a fucking lousy psychologist – those who can, do – those who can’t, teach. I had no right to make judgements. Now either throw me out or let’s have a quickie and then we’ll go and sort bloody Alvo out. I can’t think beyond that.’
Part Six:
‘Where the bloody hells’ Bax?’ Rick whines as he returns from another trip to the refuse heap.
‘Chucking his guts up, I should think,’ Quinn says darkly as he moves to the next chair and starts to examine it for droplet of Alvo’s blood. He’d heard the sound of Baxter’s gagging and looked up to see his frantic dash for the stairs and had briefly considered following him; but that would be too obvious. Better to behave as he always has; aloof and yes, he can admit it to himself, slightly condescending. But Baxter has been gone for a good ten minutes now – recalling the distressed breathing of earlier Quinn wonders if he mightn’t be having an asthma attack. He really should check on him...
‘He’s not the only bloody one,’ Rick rumbles on, clearly narked that Baxter is getting out of his share of the messy stuff. ‘My dinner is on the shit heap out there, right next to Alvo’s brains.’
‘For gods’ sake Rick, d’you have to be so disrespectful?’ Woody throws his cloth down and glares at the blond man.
‘What’s up with you? S’not like he can hear me, can he?’
‘That’s it... I’ve had enough. I’m going for a shower.’ Woody rips the bin-liner off, throws it down and makes for the stairs.
Well that’s it then, Baxter my son – you’re on your own now, Quinn thinks – Woody’s room backs onto Baxter’s so there’s no way he’s going up there now. Quinn, you are a cold-hearted bastard. Well, at least he knows himself.
**
Woody stands at the top of the landing, hesitating. That had been rather childish – storming off like that. It’s the sort of thing Rick does, all melodrama and hot air; but unlike Rick, Woody knows that he didn’t do it for effect or to manipulate his friends into backing down. He should go back and apologise; they’ve all had a shock, after all. He turns and is about to make his way back down –even though he desperately does want a shower – when he sees the light coming from under the door in Baxter’s room. He stops, considering, wonders if Bax is okay. Apart from his outburst immediately following Alvo’s murder, he’d been quiet and withdrawn, his face growing more and more closed in as they’d worked to clean up the blood and gore. Who knew a head wound could bleed so much? Okay, it was a bit more –quite a bit more- than a simple wound; they’d all remarked on the quantity and consistency of the blood and...other things. The smell – well, no one wanted to even acknowledge that. Red blood, the smell of copper – its primal, isn’t it, the scent of death. Hunters seek it, prey avoid it.
He shoves the gruesome thoughts away and steps up to Baxter’s door. He knocks, quietly so that the others won’t hear. He senses that something is up between Bax and Quinn, but he doesn’t know what – they’ve been exchanging covert glances ever since the second morning and he wonders if they’re planning to tell Nina about Rick’s indiscretion. Quinn might, he just might... but why would Baxter care? He’s only met Nina a few times and they didn’t exactly hit it off, did they? Not back when Quinn was dating her, anyway... he can’t remember if they spoke at Rick and Nina’s wedding beyond general pleasantries. No, that can’t be it... he knocks again, a little louder, but there’s no sound from within. He remembers that Baxter had always been the runt of the gang – the one most likely to catch a cold, get ‘flu, fall off his bike and break a limb... and he’d had asthma too, hadn’t he ... Woody tries to recall mention or sight of an inhaler in recent years and draws a blank. Maybe he grew out of it. Maybe he didn’t....
Decision made, Woody turns the handle – thankfully the door isn’t locked (unusual in itself – Baxter had always been a bit shy, he remembers) and he pushes it open slowly, praying that it doesn’t creak; but it opens smoothly and he steps into the room, closing it quietly behind him.
‘Bax? You okay, mate?’ he keeps his voice low, not wanting to wake Baxter if he’s fallen asleep, but there’s no reply. As his eyes adjust to the gloom, Woody can see that the bed is smooth, unslept in, and smiles. Typical Bax – his own bed is still a mess from the night before and he doesn’t plan on tidying it up while he’s here. So where the hell is he, then? He follows the rectangle of light to the bathroom door, which is slightly ajar, the sliver of light reaching across the bedroom floor to the door through which he’s just come. The silence is ominous and Woody’s guts suddenly turn to ice as one meaning for Bax’s lack of response presents itself to his over-active imagination.
‘Oh no, no, Bax – not you... please...’ He’s across the room in four easy strides and pushes the door open, heart in his mouth. For a moment he doesn’t comprehend what he’s seeing. When he does, the relief almost brings tears to his eyes.
Baxter is lying on his back in the bath tub, which is two-thirds full. He’s asleep, his chin lying on his chest and his arms curled protectively against his face. The water around him ripples rhythmically to his slow breathing. The water feels tepid when Woody dips a finger in and he considers waking him, then thinks better of it. Let him sleep – the tub is too small and cramped for him to drown in and if he wakes to see Woody looming over him a second time he’ll think he’s being stalked. As it was, he’d been embarrassed enough by his earlier breakdown – this will just make things between them even more awkward.
Woody probably knows Bax least well of the entire group; apart from the times they’d gone out on the lam, they’d moved in different worlds at college. He himself had been down the gym more often than not; Bax had always been up to his neck in text books. He hadn’t been surprised to hear that he’d gone on to study law – what had surprised him (and the others) was that he’d thrown it all in to start a business selling Antiques. What had happened to make Bax throw away all that training, he wonders. He’s never had the opportunity (or the interest, if he’s honest) to ask.
Baxter flinches, mutters and sighs before dropping back into sleep and Woody takes this as his cue to leave. Poor Bax – near-sighted, weak-stomached and always anxious... never quite at ease in his own skin, Woody remembers. He hasn’t changed much.
Woody turns and walks quietly away, pulling the bathroom door to the same almost-closed point and shutting the outer door as quietly as he can. He goes to his room, showers and then rejoins Rick and Quinn downstairs to finish off the cleanup operation.
TBC
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Copyright Disclaimer: No infringement intended on any copyrights held by the original copyright holders of the images, characters, premise, etc. contained on this page. Created solely for non-profit purposes of entertainment.
Author: Edzel2 (with heartfelt thanks to my Beta, Jinxed)
Genre: ‘Mad Dogs’
Rating: Adult
Summary: The day from hell turns into an even bigger nightmare as Alvo is brutally gunned down in front of his four stunned guests. What will this mean for the four men, whose relationships are complicated enough already?
Previously... ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake Bax...’ Quinn steps forward and grabs Baxter by the arms and pulls him into a hug. The shorter man stiffens and tries to pull away but Quinn tightens his hold, speaks quietly, his voice muffled against the side of Baxter’s head.
‘Bax, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to upset you. And you’re right; I’m a fucking lousy psychologist – those who can, do – those who can’t, teach. I had no right to make judgements. Now either throw me out or let’s have a quickie and then we’ll go and sort bloody Alvo out. I can’t think beyond that.’
Part Six:
‘Where the bloody hells’ Bax?’ Rick whines as he returns from another trip to the refuse heap.
‘Chucking his guts up, I should think,’ Quinn says darkly as he moves to the next chair and starts to examine it for droplet of Alvo’s blood. He’d heard the sound of Baxter’s gagging and looked up to see his frantic dash for the stairs and had briefly considered following him; but that would be too obvious. Better to behave as he always has; aloof and yes, he can admit it to himself, slightly condescending. But Baxter has been gone for a good ten minutes now – recalling the distressed breathing of earlier Quinn wonders if he mightn’t be having an asthma attack. He really should check on him...
‘He’s not the only bloody one,’ Rick rumbles on, clearly narked that Baxter is getting out of his share of the messy stuff. ‘My dinner is on the shit heap out there, right next to Alvo’s brains.’
‘For gods’ sake Rick, d’you have to be so disrespectful?’ Woody throws his cloth down and glares at the blond man.
‘What’s up with you? S’not like he can hear me, can he?’
‘That’s it... I’ve had enough. I’m going for a shower.’ Woody rips the bin-liner off, throws it down and makes for the stairs.
Well that’s it then, Baxter my son – you’re on your own now, Quinn thinks – Woody’s room backs onto Baxter’s so there’s no way he’s going up there now. Quinn, you are a cold-hearted bastard. Well, at least he knows himself.
**
Woody stands at the top of the landing, hesitating. That had been rather childish – storming off like that. It’s the sort of thing Rick does, all melodrama and hot air; but unlike Rick, Woody knows that he didn’t do it for effect or to manipulate his friends into backing down. He should go back and apologise; they’ve all had a shock, after all. He turns and is about to make his way back down –even though he desperately does want a shower – when he sees the light coming from under the door in Baxter’s room. He stops, considering, wonders if Bax is okay. Apart from his outburst immediately following Alvo’s murder, he’d been quiet and withdrawn, his face growing more and more closed in as they’d worked to clean up the blood and gore. Who knew a head wound could bleed so much? Okay, it was a bit more –quite a bit more- than a simple wound; they’d all remarked on the quantity and consistency of the blood and...other things. The smell – well, no one wanted to even acknowledge that. Red blood, the smell of copper – its primal, isn’t it, the scent of death. Hunters seek it, prey avoid it.
He shoves the gruesome thoughts away and steps up to Baxter’s door. He knocks, quietly so that the others won’t hear. He senses that something is up between Bax and Quinn, but he doesn’t know what – they’ve been exchanging covert glances ever since the second morning and he wonders if they’re planning to tell Nina about Rick’s indiscretion. Quinn might, he just might... but why would Baxter care? He’s only met Nina a few times and they didn’t exactly hit it off, did they? Not back when Quinn was dating her, anyway... he can’t remember if they spoke at Rick and Nina’s wedding beyond general pleasantries. No, that can’t be it... he knocks again, a little louder, but there’s no sound from within. He remembers that Baxter had always been the runt of the gang – the one most likely to catch a cold, get ‘flu, fall off his bike and break a limb... and he’d had asthma too, hadn’t he ... Woody tries to recall mention or sight of an inhaler in recent years and draws a blank. Maybe he grew out of it. Maybe he didn’t....
Decision made, Woody turns the handle – thankfully the door isn’t locked (unusual in itself – Baxter had always been a bit shy, he remembers) and he pushes it open slowly, praying that it doesn’t creak; but it opens smoothly and he steps into the room, closing it quietly behind him.
‘Bax? You okay, mate?’ he keeps his voice low, not wanting to wake Baxter if he’s fallen asleep, but there’s no reply. As his eyes adjust to the gloom, Woody can see that the bed is smooth, unslept in, and smiles. Typical Bax – his own bed is still a mess from the night before and he doesn’t plan on tidying it up while he’s here. So where the hell is he, then? He follows the rectangle of light to the bathroom door, which is slightly ajar, the sliver of light reaching across the bedroom floor to the door through which he’s just come. The silence is ominous and Woody’s guts suddenly turn to ice as one meaning for Bax’s lack of response presents itself to his over-active imagination.
‘Oh no, no, Bax – not you... please...’ He’s across the room in four easy strides and pushes the door open, heart in his mouth. For a moment he doesn’t comprehend what he’s seeing. When he does, the relief almost brings tears to his eyes.
Baxter is lying on his back in the bath tub, which is two-thirds full. He’s asleep, his chin lying on his chest and his arms curled protectively against his face. The water around him ripples rhythmically to his slow breathing. The water feels tepid when Woody dips a finger in and he considers waking him, then thinks better of it. Let him sleep – the tub is too small and cramped for him to drown in and if he wakes to see Woody looming over him a second time he’ll think he’s being stalked. As it was, he’d been embarrassed enough by his earlier breakdown – this will just make things between them even more awkward.
Woody probably knows Bax least well of the entire group; apart from the times they’d gone out on the lam, they’d moved in different worlds at college. He himself had been down the gym more often than not; Bax had always been up to his neck in text books. He hadn’t been surprised to hear that he’d gone on to study law – what had surprised him (and the others) was that he’d thrown it all in to start a business selling Antiques. What had happened to make Bax throw away all that training, he wonders. He’s never had the opportunity (or the interest, if he’s honest) to ask.
Baxter flinches, mutters and sighs before dropping back into sleep and Woody takes this as his cue to leave. Poor Bax – near-sighted, weak-stomached and always anxious... never quite at ease in his own skin, Woody remembers. He hasn’t changed much.
Woody turns and walks quietly away, pulling the bathroom door to the same almost-closed point and shutting the outer door as quietly as he can. He goes to his room, showers and then rejoins Rick and Quinn downstairs to finish off the cleanup operation.
TBC
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright Disclaimer: No infringement intended on any copyrights held by the original copyright holders of the images, characters, premise, etc. contained on this page. Created solely for non-profit purposes of entertainment.
