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[personal profile] rc45
Title: The two boys
Author: Miyu
Obligatory linkage: http://books.adultfanfiction.net/story.php?no=544204021
Rating: Adult++
Sporked by: [livejournal.com profile] agenttrojie and [livejournal.com profile] tea_fiend
Sporkage rating: R
Summary: The twin princes of Archenland do some inexplicable experimentation, in the first part of Trojie and Pads' punishment for their unauthorised mission-stealing. Well, they do say payback's a bitch ...
Thanks to [livejournal.com profile] ansela_jonla for betaing.




January 2009 HST



I dare say you're going to pretend to wonder why I've called you into my office, said the Queen Anne's lace wearily. Let us cut to the chase. You have been sighted in continua in which you have not been assigned missions. You have, reports show, assassinated Sues in non-slash missions. Tell me, she asked, acidly, would you like to be reassigned to the Floaters?

'No!' Trojie exclaimed, looking pained.

Then you will kindly tell me how you have been getting into missions that were not assigned to you, the Lace said, glaring as well as one can without eyes.

Pads reached over and placed a hand over her partner's mouth. 'We have no idea,' she said, innocently. 'We just take whatever missions we're given, honestly. These ones just turned up at our console.'

If that were so, then why restrain Trojanhorse?

'You know how fixated she is on her job,' said Pads, shrugging. 'She's been terribly distressed by you suggesting you'd move us. She can hardly be blamed if she starts babbling confusedly about things.'

Agent Paddlebrains, I give up, said the Lace, sighing gustily and psychically. If you insist on maintaining this charade, I will up the ante. There are now five missions waiting for you. I don't want to see you back in HQ until they are all dealt with. And I expect that menagerie you keep in your response centre to be kept fed and quiet while you are working, as well. If I hear one more report of furred and feathered destruction in the corridors, I'll send you both back to your home continua. Permanently. Is that understood?

'Perfectly, sir,' said Pads, saluting frantically as she stood up and dragged Trojie with her out the door.

Once they were out of the way of the Lace's office, Pads transformed. Trojie spat noisily, and followed her partner, ranting as she went.

'She can't fire us! That's cruel and unusual punishment! And why did you grab me? I wasn't going to say anything! Bloody Blacks, you're all the same, you think you own the bloody world. Well, some of us don't like being manhandled, I'll have you know. If she fires me, I'll have to go back to the Real World! I'll die! Did you know heterosexuals are the majority there? I have no idea how to function in that sort of warped society!'

Reaching their door, Pads changed back to her human form. 'Shut up, you muffin,' she said, rolling her eyes. 'She's not going to send you back. She needs you. Now, before we open the door and unleash the whirlwind of your bloody pets, it's just occurred to me that we might want to run a few errands first. Like bidding our various children farewell, making sure the Nursery have enough formula milk for my two ravenous boys, and getting some extra food in for the menagerie. Oh, and I am going to need a vast supply of nicotine, if this is anything like as much of a marathon as she was hinting.'

'Alright. See you back here when the Narrative Laws of Comedy deem it appropriate?' said Troije, cursing once again the lack of standard timekeeping in HQ.

It was two hours later for Pads when she returned to find Trojie lounging on the doorframe, carrying several shopping bags full of assorted petfood.

'Let us gird our loins and do battle once more?' the veteran said, indicating the door. Knowing what a warzone their RC was these days, Pads sighed, and nodded.

Upon opening the door, both agents were immediately knocked flat by the stampede. When the initial flurry of excitement had subsided sufficiently to allow them to to get up and start wiping off the slobber, Pads headed to the console, with an unusually steely look of determination in her eye.

'It's not like you to be this eager to join the fray,' Trojie commented, collecting her Bag and checking its contents, or at least those that were close to the top and thus easily accessible.

'Nothing wrong with wanting to do the Duty,' Pads said with a defensive shrug. 'Besides, how bad can it be?'

'Dunno. What's up first?'

'Depends.' Pads cast an eye over the various flashing messages on the console's screen. 'Do you want to do this chronologically, or shall we get the shortest out of the way first?'

'Fastest first,' Trojie decided, after a moment's cogitation. 'Then we'll get the satisfaction of being twenty per cent finished sooner.'

'Your funeral,' Pads said, hitting the print button and watching page after page of missions spew forth. 'Have you got everything?'

'Books?'

'Chronicles. Complete set. Hardback editions for preference, because I don't much fancy twatting Aslan round the head with a paperback.'

Trojie pulled a face. 'I don't want to know, do I?'

'Cruel and unusual punishment indeed,' Pads answered, opening a portal to their first mission. She stepped through. Trojie grabbed the books and followed.

They were in Archenland, supposedly, although the existence of 'a pound' in a continuum with canonical Talking Animals was worrying.

'Exactly who is being slashed here?' asked Trojie warily. 'If King Lune is involved, I'm offskis.'

'No, it's Cor and Corin. Or, should I say 'Shasta or Cor' and Corin. Cor only gets called Cor the once - it's Shasta all the way after that, and that's a charge in and of itself.'

'Noting,' said Trojie, dutifully scribbling on her notebook, hoicked from the top strata of the Bag. 'Gosh, what a lot of wtf,' she added, regarding the two princes and their dialogue.

“I want to lay here all day long.” said Shasta “You can't.” said Corin “A prince should get to do what he wants.” said Shasta “If they let a prince run around he might give something away or get killed.” said Corin “If only I could stay here.” said Shasta

'Hmm, charge also for essentially swapping the personalities of Cor and Corin - it was Corin who wanted to skive off all the time,' said Pads.

'As you wish. Well, so far, this isn't too ba-' Trojie shut up as a hand clapped once more over her mouth.

'Of all people, you ought to know not to tempt the Ironic Overpower,' said Pads. But it was too late:

A anther thought was to rip Shasta's pants off. He did not know why he was thinking of this all he knew was that he wanted Shasta more then anything he every knew. He felt hot and weak in his knees. He felt something come up.

'A anther? The male part of a flower?' asked Trojie, confused.

'I think the author meant to say 'another',' said Pads. 'I'm more worried about Corin suddenly 'wanting' 'Shasta'. And as for the bit about something coming up, isn't that usually an excuse to get out of having it off?'

'Not when it's meant literally,' said Trojie, narrowing her eyes. 'Clumsy and horrible, but meant to be taken literally, if I'm any judge. And I am,' she added, hoping that if the Lace were watching somehow, she'd take the point.

He saw Corin's pants. His eyes want big with shock.

'Do eyes normally do that?' Pads asked.

'Generally they widen. Another clumsy writing charge, I suspect, but if you like you can check mine when we get to Aslan and see if they "go big".'

'Roger that, boss. Did we bring the bag of punctuation?'

Trojie descended into the depths of the Bag and rummaged. 'I can see hyphens and full stops. No commas though. If memory serves, you dropped them in Cair Paravel.'

'When we were in Cair Paravel?' Pads asked, hauling Trojie back out of the Bag.

'When Peter was raping Edmund.'

'Oh, then. Bugger. Well, we can collect some more full stops while we're here. Pass me the hammer?'

Trojie did so, and, while the princes busied themselves with inane conversation about nameless girls and money-grabbing whores, the agents began prising misplaced punctuation from the scenery.

It was about when Cor- sorry, Shasta, kissed Corin, that Trojie dropped her hammer on her foot.

The kiss was wet and soft. As they kissed their tongs danced and leaped on to on anther.

'We could use these tongs if we ever have another barbeque,' Trojie pointed out, massaging her bruised toes. 'And there's that blasted anther again. I'm charging for abuse of flora. That's practically sexual abuse of flora, anyway.'

'I'm just concerned as to why it's okay that a pair of princes, one of whom has already been kidnapped as a baby, can wander around the wilds with nothing but a pair of tongs to defend themselves with,' said Pads. 'They're hardly a good defensive weapon. Or sex toy,' she added, as the boys got more and more involved, and 'Shasta' raced his tong on Corin's dick.

Trojie advanced upon the pair, bell held high. Pads hurriedly ground out her current cigarette and followed her partner, rummaging in the Bag that still hung off the shorter woman's shoulder for The Horse and his Boy.

'You know,' said Trojie, just before she brought her bell down to begin the exorcism, 'I do feel that pouncing on them when they've got each other's bits in their mouths is unsporting. But what the hell.'

'Better now than when they're doing some other thing, which, by the way, is the worst euphemism for anal sex I've ever heard,' Pads said, belting a prince round the head with the book. 'I really don't want to actually attempt any of Doc Fitz's handy dube-lube fix-ups in the field, you know.'

'Agreed,' Trojie said, thumping the other prince with the bell. It made a very satisfying clang!. 'We've managed to avoid them so far, at least.' She cleared her throat. 'Avaunt, O spirit of badslash! Thou art accused of abusing the world of the Chronicles of Narnia in the following ways! Causing incest between these two brothers!' CLANG! 'Abuse of verbs!' CLANG! 'Calling Cor 'Shasta'!' CLANG! 'Swapping and generally misrepresenting the personalities of the princes of Archenland!' CLANG! 'Abusing flora, causing the occurrence of pants in Archenland, and abusing apostrophes by not using them at all!' CLANG! 'Blatantly thou dost not comprehend the mechanics of sexual intercourse and yet you choose to write about them! For this I cry thee avaunt! For dubious lube, for pronoun problems, for inappropriate euphemisms, I banish thee! For lack of spell check, beta-reader, and logic, I defy thee! Avaunt! In the name of LEWIS!' One final CLANG! and the wraith gave up its hold on the two unfortunate boys.

'I hoped you liked it,' the wraith complained as it coalesced out of the startled boys.

'We didn't. Not one bit,' Trojie told it.

'Now piss off,' Pads added, lighting another cigarette and blowing smoke rings at the wraith, which dispersed.

Unfortunately, this left the agents with two confused and naked Archenlander princes to deal with. One quick neuralysation later, and the agents were ready to move on to the second part of their punishment.

'Twenty per cent done,' Trojie said brightly, conjuring a portal to their next destination.

'Eighty per cent to go,' Pads replied. 'And they're only going to get worse.'

'How much wo-'

The Animagus slapped a hand over her partner's mouth. 'Don't. I promise, you will regret it. Aslan, remember?'

'Ee's ot ex, ih ee?' Trojie asked, her speech somewhat hampered by the hand currently molesting her face.

'Nah. Saving the best until last.' Pads removed her hand, and wiped it absentmindedly on her trousers. 'But, since you're so desperate for bestiality...'

'I'm not!'

'Tough shit, m'dear. Onwards!'



Continued in Part Two: Wedding Night
Part Three: Mirror Mirror
Part Four: The White Witches deal
Part Five: How to Remember the Signs
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