DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.
A/N: my version of the FB challenge. Enjoy.
The Laws of Love and Rage
by Joodiff
Picture this scene. It's early morning in early summer, the trees are green, the grass is green, the sky is blue. If we were to stand on Parliament Hill, we could look out over London with a due sense of awe. But though we are in the right area, we are not looking out over London, with or without a sense of awe; no, we are gazing at the chilly waters of Parliament Hill Lido where hardy, foolish souls are ploughing up and down through the clear water. These souls are neither as hardy nor as foolish as the ones who use the swimming ponds on the Heath, but they're still fairly hardy. And foolish, obviously. Who in their right minds, for heaven's sake, would be stupid enough to get out of a warm bed to brave the unheated horrors of an outdoor pool in England at any time of the year?
You know the answer to this one, don't you? Of course you do. You know it's Grace who is sitting on the bench, warm and dry, just as you know it's Boyd in the water. Appropriately dressed. Or undressed, depending on your point of view. So let's just get on with the story, shall we? Wait a minute, though. Just because we can, we'll allow ourselves a quick moment to gaze gratuitously at Boyd as he swims. We won't think about what the exceptionally cold water may be doing to parts of the male anatomy. No, we will just look at the broad shoulders and the glistening silver hair and sigh. Those of us not interested in such things or who simply have a little more perspective may roll their eyes at our folly for a minute while the rest of us stare and try to pretend we are not having inappropriate thoughts.
Are we all done? Good.
Grace is sitting – warm and dry – on the bench just outside the lido. She's a little smug, but she's not going to admit that to anyone. She's a little smug because she's a lot cleverer than her engaging, capricious and recently-retired lover, and it's entirely her fault that he's enduring the cold water. Actually, not quite entirely her fault, because it's his ego, of course, that has led him to – quite literally – take the plunge. She has merely steered him in the right direction with the skill and precision of an expert mahout. Not that Boyd's an elephant, because he's not. A lion, maybe, or a bear, but not an elephant. But we're digressing.
The bloody-freezing-outdoor-swimming thing is payback. For the dog.
It's one of those little grey, scruffy, indeterminate-type dogs. You know the sort? Probably some kind of terrier mixed with some other kind of terrier. Hairy. Lots of teeth. Stupid ears that sort of only half stand up. It's currently asleep by Grace's feet if you want a closer look, but really, don't bother. It's just an ordinary little dog. The only extraordinary fact about it is that it is Boyd's dog. It thinks so, anyway. Which is where the payback comes in, naturally. It was supposed to be Grace's dog. Her dog. Cute, fluffy and devoted. Not unlike her lover. Who actually is neither cute nor fluffy, so that's the end of that analogy.
The man walking towards Grace is young, good-looking and very intense. His name is Daniel and he's an undergraduate, a psychology student. She doesn't know that, but we do. He's seen her on the Heath several times and – this is going to astonish you – he's recognised her from the photograph on the book he's got stashed away in his bag. The Laws of Love and Rage by Doctor Grace Foley. Available from all good bookshops. Buy a copy; the royalties will help keep Boyd in whiskey throughout his retirement.
"Doctor Foley…?" Daniel says, in that hesitant 'I'm not actually a stalker' way that normal people affect in such circumstances.
Grace smiles very slightly in a polite, restrained manner. Close to her feet, a very low, guttural growl can be heard. The dog – official name Angus (her choice) – is, as has been said, Peter Boyd's dog. And he's every bit as territorial as his master. Though only a fraction of the size. And more inclined to bite in the literal sense.
"Ignore him," Grace says. "He's bad-tempered, but completely harmless."
We can make our own comparisons at this point, obviously.
Daniel does not look convinced. But though he stops, he doesn't give ground. "I've been reading your book. The Laws…"
"…of Love and Rage," Boyd finishes, finally appearing on the scene. He's damp, but regrettably fully-clothed. Sorry about that. Angus growls, but Boyd doesn't. Boyd just stares, pointedly. And Grace merely sighs.
"I wanted to ask – " Daniel starts.
Boyd grins ferociously at him, and it's entirely possible that in doing so he shows even more teeth than Angus. "Yes?"
The young man knows when he's beaten. "Nothing. Sorry to trouble you."
"Oh, look," Boyd says as Daniel retreats rapidly, "You have a fan. Another one."
"Why are you so obnoxious?" Grace asks him. "He wasn't doing any harm."
"You're the one who complains like buggery about people unexpectedly coming up to you and wanting to discuss the finer points of – "
"Was it cold in there?" Grace interrupts.
"Bloody freezing. I think my balls have disappeared forever."
"I knew you wouldn't be man enough to do it more than once."
We all know that thing about the red rag and the bull, don't we? Well, this is Grace waving the red rag at her own particular bull. Though in the confusion of animal metaphors we're stumbling through here, it's hard to tell. Angus has stopped growling, but Boyd is glaring again. But the glare gives way as he thinks her sentence through slowly and carefully.
He grins. We know that grin. It's the one that makes us sigh happily.
"Grace," he says, "When have I ever not been man enough to do it more than once…?"
He has a point, she has to admit. Damn.
– the end –
Challenge rules:
"The Laws of Love and Rage", post 'Waterloo', Grace's book title must be the title, the book has to appear or be referred to, there has to be a swimming pool in some shape or form, someone must say, "You have a fan", there must be a dog seen or mentioned, 1000 words max.