Complications Minor Chapter 3 (of 20)
Sep. 16th, 2008 11:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Title: Complications Minor
A Blackpool/Secret Diary of a Call Girl crossover with just a hint of Keen Eddie
Rating: M
Paring: Peter Carlisle/Belle De Jour
Spoilers: All of Blackpool and S1 of Secret Diary of a Call Girl
Summary: Peter Carlisle has needs. Belle De Jour is in the business of fulfilling those needs. It's a simple arrangement. Right?
Chapter Summary: Meet Peter's partner: Monty Pippin and Peter considers Belle's offer from last time.
Previous chapters can be found here.
AN:
swankkat and
kalleah made this whole thing better.

Peter sat his coffee and plate of pastries on his desk and eased himself into his chair. He opened a case file in attempt to be productive. It failed; he had read the same page three times now. His mind was on the offer from the night before. His musings were cut short when a hand reached down and grabbed one of his pastries. The owner of the hand sat across from him.
“Peter, my fine Scottish friend, something seems to be on your mind. And I think I know what it is. You’re wondering how you can be as handsome and wonderful as I am. The answer is simple. You can’t. I’m naturally gifted.”
Peter watched his partner nibble away at his stolen treat. Monty Pippin. They had been partnered up as soon as he transferred to Scotland Yard from North Lakes. They both were tall, thin, pale, and freckled. They were around the same age. They were both excellent at their jobs. The similarities ended there.
Where Peter was rumpled clothes, scruffy face and hair that was always just this side of needing cutting, Monty was slick, fitted suits, a £100 haircut, complete with highlights in his strawberry blonde hair and possibly a waxed chest. Monty and his female partner of the moment (Peter gave up trying to keep track) would pretend to married so they could join swingers clubs. Where Peter was set in his ways, Monty was a slave to trends.
For all their differences, they complimented one another. They were fantastic partners and fast friends. Peter knew he could tell Monty just about anything and wouldn’t be judged. Of course, Monty had no room to. Through the process of cases, stakeouts and spending down time together, there wasn’t much they didn’t know about one another. In fact, Peter knew almost too much about Monty’s extracurricular activities. Monty knew about his own disastrous past. The failed marriage. The Blackpool incident. Other things that led him to London.
Somehow all of this bonded them. The day they met, Monty told him about his last partner. The American who, in his words, foolishly fell in love with a rich girl and was touring the world with his dog and her cat. He then announced Peter was his new best friend. He had no choice from there. It did work out for the best.
Peter set down the unread file. “Have you ever spent the night with a prostitute?” They were dubbed “the trouble children” of the division and as such were sat in a corner. They discovered they could speak quite freely without the worry of being over heard by the rest of room.
“Have you?”
“It’s something that has been put forth as a possibility.”
“Have you even been with one at all? Oh! That’s where you’ve been disappearing to every week.”
“Yes. Answer the question.”
“A full night, no. Several delightful hours, yes. Do you want to?”
“Of course. I can afford to as well. I just don’t know if I should.”
“Peter, I know you’re a romantic, who knows why, but don’t fall for a working girl. It will end badly. I could set you up with many a willing partner”
“No thank you and I know that but she’s the one who offered.”
“Did she now? It’s good business sense on her part.”
“I’m aware of that as well. That doesn’t stop me from wanting to do it anyway or from wanting her.”
“What’s her name?”
“Belle. Well, that’s what she calls herself.”
“We could find out.”
“But we won’t. I respect her too much to do that.”
“That’s sweet. I say do it. You know I would never encourage anyone to turn down the opportunity for sex.”
Peter was about to say more when they noticed their DCI glaring in their general direction with his daily look of disapproval. They begrudgingly went to work.
After a long day of theories, interrogations, take-away wrappers, and rubber band flinging contests, a decision was made. Peter downed the rest of his tea, grimacing at its drop in temperature. “I’m going to do it. Either next week or the week after.”
“Good for you.” Monty rose and put on his coat. “If anything breaks with the case, I’ll give you call. You’ll do the same?” Peter nodded. They walked out into the fresh air. As they turned to go their separate ways, Monty turned. “Peter? Be careful. I don’t want to see you get hurt again. You’ve been through enough already.”
“Thanks.” And that was why Monty was the best friend he ever had. Once you got past the blustering, he was loyal and caring. As he made his way to the tube, he pulled out his mobile. She was in his speed dial but that wouldn’t have mattered. He’d memorized her number weeks ago.
“Hello?’ He couldn’t stop the small smile when he heard her voice.
“Belle? It’s Peter Carlisle. I’ve thought about your proposal from last night.”
“Well, hello, Peter Carlisle and what was that thought?”
“I’m thinking I’d like to make it happen.” The connection crackled a bit as he descended the stairs.
“Great. When?”
“How soon can you?”
“Well, this next time I can’t as I have a booking after you but the week after?”
“That will do. Although, you need to know, I will be incredibly rude and leave my mobile on. It’s been a surprise we’ve carried on this long without my occupational interruptions.” He inspected his fingernails as if this was an everyday occurrence for him. Not that he could see her.
“I understand but thanks for the heads up. Remember if there’s anything you want, anything at all, ask.”
“I should come prepared to go straight to work from yours, if that’s all right.”
“Fine.” He was imagining her in her dressing gown, possible applying nail lacquer to her toes or some equally feminine.
“And I will be giving serious thought as to what you should be wearing.”
“You really should.”
“It’s matter of national importance. I’m thinking of putting a call to Downing Street about it.”
“Not Buckingham then?”
“Don’t want to be too hasty. Might need them later.”
“Of course. How silly of me.”
“Now, about payment.”
“I told you we could work something out.”
“Maybe I just want to know how you negotiate.”
“I’m much better at that in person.”
“You’re going to make me wait that long?”
“It’s one of my tactics.”
“So the game begins.”
“I know I’ll enjoy playing with you and every thing that entails.”
“So will I. Until next week then.”
“Good bye, Peter.”
“Good bye, Belle.” Peter trudged the rest of the way back to his flat. He’d thrown his coat over a chair, quickly added his jacket, grabbed a lager from the refrigerator, settled on the sofa, put up his feet, and turned on the telly when his mobile rang. “Yes, Monty?”
“Have you called yet?”
“Called what?”
“Her. For the thing.”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, I did.”
“Did you wait until you got home or did you even make it to the tube? I bet it’s the second one.”
“With your sexual proclivities, why are you so interested in mine?”
“You are my closest mate. I am, therefore, required to know everything about who you shag and when, so that I may mock you at a future date.”
“Really? I’ll have to remember that the next time you over-share with me.”
“Say what you will. You know I’m your hero.”
“Good bye, Monty.”
“I will get details! I have my ways!”
Peter hung up on him. He then set about his normal evening routine.
First he finished his beer while flipping through his 100+ channels before determining there was nothing on. Then it was time for dinner. He decided between having take-away, leftover take-away, beans on toast or going through the depressing ritual of cooking for one’s self and gaining even more leftovers. He found containers of the Chinese from a few nights earlier and tucked into that. After he polished those off, he poured over case files and notes before changing into his pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt. Instead of going straight to bed, he put his glasses back on and carried a couple more files over to the sofa. He left the telly on as background noise and went to work.
Several hours later Peter woke in the same position. It was hardly the first time that had happened. Still, when he stood and stretched, he cursed as his bones cracked back into place.
After flipping on the coffee maker, he shuffled off to the shower. While there, he did what was quickly becoming part of his daily routine. He had no shame in admitting he enjoyed a good wank now and then but the frequency of them had greatly increased in the recent weeks. And he always finished with the same name on his lips, “Belle.”
After a shave, Peter downed a cup of coffee before putting on some clothes. That was followed-up with another cup and toast. He knew he’d eat something more substantial at headquarters. He gathered everything up and was out the door. He checked in on the way to the train and met Monty at the door.
“Let me tell you about my evening.” Monty wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulders.
“Do I have a choice?”
“No. You really don’t. It’s one of the privileges of knowing me.”
After being only partially disgusted at his partner’s adventures, they went to work. This same custom played out for the next few days leading up to his weekly time with Belle.
As promised, some enthusiastic negotiating took place and all was set for the next week. He knew logically he should just view it as business but he couldn’t stop himself from feeling it was a bit more than that.
A Blackpool/Secret Diary of a Call Girl crossover with just a hint of Keen Eddie
Rating: M
Paring: Peter Carlisle/Belle De Jour
Spoilers: All of Blackpool and S1 of Secret Diary of a Call Girl
Summary: Peter Carlisle has needs. Belle De Jour is in the business of fulfilling those needs. It's a simple arrangement. Right?
Chapter Summary: Meet Peter's partner: Monty Pippin and Peter considers Belle's offer from last time.
Previous chapters can be found here.
AN:
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Peter sat his coffee and plate of pastries on his desk and eased himself into his chair. He opened a case file in attempt to be productive. It failed; he had read the same page three times now. His mind was on the offer from the night before. His musings were cut short when a hand reached down and grabbed one of his pastries. The owner of the hand sat across from him.
“Peter, my fine Scottish friend, something seems to be on your mind. And I think I know what it is. You’re wondering how you can be as handsome and wonderful as I am. The answer is simple. You can’t. I’m naturally gifted.”
Peter watched his partner nibble away at his stolen treat. Monty Pippin. They had been partnered up as soon as he transferred to Scotland Yard from North Lakes. They both were tall, thin, pale, and freckled. They were around the same age. They were both excellent at their jobs. The similarities ended there.
Where Peter was rumpled clothes, scruffy face and hair that was always just this side of needing cutting, Monty was slick, fitted suits, a £100 haircut, complete with highlights in his strawberry blonde hair and possibly a waxed chest. Monty and his female partner of the moment (Peter gave up trying to keep track) would pretend to married so they could join swingers clubs. Where Peter was set in his ways, Monty was a slave to trends.
For all their differences, they complimented one another. They were fantastic partners and fast friends. Peter knew he could tell Monty just about anything and wouldn’t be judged. Of course, Monty had no room to. Through the process of cases, stakeouts and spending down time together, there wasn’t much they didn’t know about one another. In fact, Peter knew almost too much about Monty’s extracurricular activities. Monty knew about his own disastrous past. The failed marriage. The Blackpool incident. Other things that led him to London.
Somehow all of this bonded them. The day they met, Monty told him about his last partner. The American who, in his words, foolishly fell in love with a rich girl and was touring the world with his dog and her cat. He then announced Peter was his new best friend. He had no choice from there. It did work out for the best.
Peter set down the unread file. “Have you ever spent the night with a prostitute?” They were dubbed “the trouble children” of the division and as such were sat in a corner. They discovered they could speak quite freely without the worry of being over heard by the rest of room.
“Have you?”
“It’s something that has been put forth as a possibility.”
“Have you even been with one at all? Oh! That’s where you’ve been disappearing to every week.”
“Yes. Answer the question.”
“A full night, no. Several delightful hours, yes. Do you want to?”
“Of course. I can afford to as well. I just don’t know if I should.”
“Peter, I know you’re a romantic, who knows why, but don’t fall for a working girl. It will end badly. I could set you up with many a willing partner”
“No thank you and I know that but she’s the one who offered.”
“Did she now? It’s good business sense on her part.”
“I’m aware of that as well. That doesn’t stop me from wanting to do it anyway or from wanting her.”
“What’s her name?”
“Belle. Well, that’s what she calls herself.”
“We could find out.”
“But we won’t. I respect her too much to do that.”
“That’s sweet. I say do it. You know I would never encourage anyone to turn down the opportunity for sex.”
Peter was about to say more when they noticed their DCI glaring in their general direction with his daily look of disapproval. They begrudgingly went to work.
After a long day of theories, interrogations, take-away wrappers, and rubber band flinging contests, a decision was made. Peter downed the rest of his tea, grimacing at its drop in temperature. “I’m going to do it. Either next week or the week after.”
“Good for you.” Monty rose and put on his coat. “If anything breaks with the case, I’ll give you call. You’ll do the same?” Peter nodded. They walked out into the fresh air. As they turned to go their separate ways, Monty turned. “Peter? Be careful. I don’t want to see you get hurt again. You’ve been through enough already.”
“Thanks.” And that was why Monty was the best friend he ever had. Once you got past the blustering, he was loyal and caring. As he made his way to the tube, he pulled out his mobile. She was in his speed dial but that wouldn’t have mattered. He’d memorized her number weeks ago.
“Hello?’ He couldn’t stop the small smile when he heard her voice.
“Belle? It’s Peter Carlisle. I’ve thought about your proposal from last night.”
“Well, hello, Peter Carlisle and what was that thought?”
“I’m thinking I’d like to make it happen.” The connection crackled a bit as he descended the stairs.
“Great. When?”
“How soon can you?”
“Well, this next time I can’t as I have a booking after you but the week after?”
“That will do. Although, you need to know, I will be incredibly rude and leave my mobile on. It’s been a surprise we’ve carried on this long without my occupational interruptions.” He inspected his fingernails as if this was an everyday occurrence for him. Not that he could see her.
“I understand but thanks for the heads up. Remember if there’s anything you want, anything at all, ask.”
“I should come prepared to go straight to work from yours, if that’s all right.”
“Fine.” He was imagining her in her dressing gown, possible applying nail lacquer to her toes or some equally feminine.
“And I will be giving serious thought as to what you should be wearing.”
“You really should.”
“It’s matter of national importance. I’m thinking of putting a call to Downing Street about it.”
“Not Buckingham then?”
“Don’t want to be too hasty. Might need them later.”
“Of course. How silly of me.”
“Now, about payment.”
“I told you we could work something out.”
“Maybe I just want to know how you negotiate.”
“I’m much better at that in person.”
“You’re going to make me wait that long?”
“It’s one of my tactics.”
“So the game begins.”
“I know I’ll enjoy playing with you and every thing that entails.”
“So will I. Until next week then.”
“Good bye, Peter.”
“Good bye, Belle.” Peter trudged the rest of the way back to his flat. He’d thrown his coat over a chair, quickly added his jacket, grabbed a lager from the refrigerator, settled on the sofa, put up his feet, and turned on the telly when his mobile rang. “Yes, Monty?”
“Have you called yet?”
“Called what?”
“Her. For the thing.”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, I did.”
“Did you wait until you got home or did you even make it to the tube? I bet it’s the second one.”
“With your sexual proclivities, why are you so interested in mine?”
“You are my closest mate. I am, therefore, required to know everything about who you shag and when, so that I may mock you at a future date.”
“Really? I’ll have to remember that the next time you over-share with me.”
“Say what you will. You know I’m your hero.”
“Good bye, Monty.”
“I will get details! I have my ways!”
Peter hung up on him. He then set about his normal evening routine.
First he finished his beer while flipping through his 100+ channels before determining there was nothing on. Then it was time for dinner. He decided between having take-away, leftover take-away, beans on toast or going through the depressing ritual of cooking for one’s self and gaining even more leftovers. He found containers of the Chinese from a few nights earlier and tucked into that. After he polished those off, he poured over case files and notes before changing into his pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt. Instead of going straight to bed, he put his glasses back on and carried a couple more files over to the sofa. He left the telly on as background noise and went to work.
Several hours later Peter woke in the same position. It was hardly the first time that had happened. Still, when he stood and stretched, he cursed as his bones cracked back into place.
After flipping on the coffee maker, he shuffled off to the shower. While there, he did what was quickly becoming part of his daily routine. He had no shame in admitting he enjoyed a good wank now and then but the frequency of them had greatly increased in the recent weeks. And he always finished with the same name on his lips, “Belle.”
After a shave, Peter downed a cup of coffee before putting on some clothes. That was followed-up with another cup and toast. He knew he’d eat something more substantial at headquarters. He gathered everything up and was out the door. He checked in on the way to the train and met Monty at the door.
“Let me tell you about my evening.” Monty wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulders.
“Do I have a choice?”
“No. You really don’t. It’s one of the privileges of knowing me.”
After being only partially disgusted at his partner’s adventures, they went to work. This same custom played out for the next few days leading up to his weekly time with Belle.
As promised, some enthusiastic negotiating took place and all was set for the next week. He knew logically he should just view it as business but he couldn’t stop himself from feeling it was a bit more than that.