Weapons of Choice by alyse [ - ]
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Category: CI5: The New Professionals > Slash
Characters: Chris Keel
Rating: PG-13
Genres: Humour
Warnings: None

Summary: Finbarr Saunders strikes back. It's budget time in CI5.

Notes: I blame Jayne for this. Totally. There I was, innocently minding my own business in Nottingham and watching First Strike and she starts to comment on how eager Chris was to get his weapon out and, well, things went rapidly downhill from there. And by the time I picked myself up from the hysterical, dribbling and laughing incoherently heap on the floor, I had this idea.


One of Sam Curtis' most enduring memories of his childhood was his mother's pet phrases. She was inordinately fond of some of them and would trot them out whenever she thought the situation merited it, which strangely enough it seemed to do frequently. Don't come running to me if you break your leg. If the wind changes your face will stay like that.

Shut your mouth before you start catching flies.

At the moment Sam seemed to be at risk of catching more than a few flies. In fact, a swarm could have flown into his mouth and had room to spare.

"... rapid firing..." his partner was saying. There had been a start to the sentence, but Sam had long since lost the plot. And most of his marbles, it seemed.


He brought himself back to the present with a jerk, focusing on his partner's eyes rather than the other attributes which had caught his attention.

"Sorry?" he asked, cringing internally since he was well aware that Chris was unlikely to let any inattention on his part pass by uncommented upon. And, knowing Chris, it would probably be commented upon a lot.

"I said," repeated Chris with a twinkle in his eye that boded ill for Sam's future peace of mind, "that it's rapid firing. Hair trigger, almost."

"Oh?" queried Sam weakly, at a loss for anything more coherent to say.

"Yeah," affirmed Chris with a wide eyed innocent look. "The slightest pressure and it's shooting all over the place."

It was the dimples, Sam decided. They gave Chris an almost palpable air of innocence, an air that Sam knew from his past experiences as the victim of his partner's quirky sense of humour was patently false.

He was almost certain that Chris was talking about his experiences on the shooting range that afternoon with a new prototype weapon.


It was the small doubts that were plaguing him. There was a quality to the twinkle in Chris' blue eyes that warned him that his partner was up to some devilment. And the air of innocence was perhaps just a little too calculated.

It all added up to give Sam a very uncomfortable feeling. Either Chris was taking the piss...

Or Sam's most secret desires looked considerably closer to fruition than he would ever have imagined.

Nah. He was taking the piss.

"Of course you have to make sure that the mechanism is well oiled so that it slides home smoothly."

Wasn't he?

Chris was looking at him expectantly and he dredged his brain for a suitable response, settling for a rather lame, "And this is a bad thing?"

"Well, we wouldn't want it overheating, would we?"

Overheating? Oiled? Eep!

"The friction could have really nasty effect otherwise." Again, crystal blue and completely innocent eyes met his. "Don't you agree?"

"Er... yes..."

"Could have a really detrimental effect on the firing mechanism."


"Wear and tear where it's not warranted."


"It does lay down a wide spray though..."

"Oh?" he asked, his mouth dry.

"Yeah. Armour piercing too."


"Oh yeah." This time Chris' smile deepened, becoming something suspiciously close to a smirk as the dimples were deployed again. "Slides past the most... sturdy of defences."

Sam blinked, this time at a complete loss for words, images that had nothing to do with ordinance dancing through his head. He swallowed heavily a couple of times while Chris watched him, his expression artfully sunny.

"Armour piercing?" Sam repeated dazedly. He was afraid of what other attributes this weapon had that may have captured his partner's attention. He wasn't quite sure that his blood pressure could stand it. Not to mention his libido.

"Oh yes," Chris replied cheerfully. "But that's not the most impressive thing about it."

He was afraid to ask, he really was, but Chris was watching him again with a look of studied enthusiasm, his full lips slightly parted in anticipation of Sam's next comment. At least Sam thought it was the question that Chris was anticipating. He could be wrong, of course. Completely wrong. As he continued to hesitate, the tip of Chris' agile pink tongue darted out to slide across those succulent lips and he was lost.

"What'sthemostimpressivething?" he asked, the words spilling out past his own lips in a rush as his eyes remained riveted on Chris' mouth. He therefore caught Chris' slow, smug smile.

"Why," his partner said calmly, "the size, of course."

Sam blinked, his gaze stuttering upwards to meet Chris' amused eyes. "S... size?"

"Oh, that's very impressive," Chris continued, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Long, thick barrel. Gives good... penetration, I suppose. At least that's the theory." That tongue darted out again. "You know, build up some force so that when the explosion... comes, it goes a long way."

Oh... my... God... Somewhere, in the portion of Sam's brain that hadn't yet melted to goo, there was a vague thought that perhaps he should come back with a snappy comeback, something about size not mattering. Somewhere else the voice of caution was advising that a comment along those lines could be interpreted as defensiveness, an indication of insecurity. The rest of his short-circuited neurones were occupied in trying to visualise Chris' 'barrel'.

Oh... my... G-

"Of course..." Chris continued, interrupting Sam's train of thought, such as it was. His eyes were sparkling and Sam got a very bad feeling about what was about to come next, a feeling that turned out to be all too justified. "'s suitable for all terrains."


"Oh yes. Doesn't matter what the conditions are like..."


"Hot and steamy..."


"... it loves sultry..."

Was it getting hot in here?

"Can cope with humid, no bother. Moist presents no problems."


"In fact, the specs suggest that it might be able to cope with full submersion."

... full...?

"You know, able to fire underwater..."

Oh... my...

Chris hadn't finished yet, his brow creasing thoughtfully. "Of course," he mused, "that theory will probably need trying out." He paused for a brief second before turning a beaming smile on Sam, complete with dimples.

Oh shit.

"You'll help me with that, won't you, Sam? Testing it out, I mean."

Trapped, he could only nod mutely.

"Good. We can use the CI5 pool, wait until everyone else leaves tonight. Doesn't need to be live ammo. We can use blanks..."

Blanks? Before he could put forth a whole host of logistical arguments against Chris' suggestion, his partner was giving him another grin, this one positively wicked.

"You won't forget to bring your Speedos, will you, Sam?"

The sudden image of Chris in Speedos robbed him of what little speech he was still capable of. He just stared at his partner, his mouth hanging open. Chris, however, continued on, seeming oblivious to his reaction.

The key word, of course, being 'seeming'.

"And it's not just damp it can cope with either."

It's not?

"It can cope with a dry heat too."


"You know? Desert type heat."

Okay, desert he could cope with.

"Hot, bright, the sun beating down on bare flesh, sweat rolling down your back type of dry heat."

... bare...?

"The kind of heat that sinks into you..."


"Dusty and sweaty and so damn hot..."


"And it's tough too."


"Treat it mean and it still keeps on tickin'."


"And it can handle anything you can throw at it."


"You can empty a full clip, just eject, ram another one in hard and it's ready to keep on rocking and rolling. Just aim and fire."

Words failed him completely this time.



"You okay, buddy? You've gone awfully pale there."



Chris was chortling quietly to himself, rerunning Sam's reactions to his 'report' from the firing range over and over in his head.

Who knew winding up his oh-so-reserved, anally-retentive English partner would be so much fun? Or so rewarding?

He was pretty damn sure that Sam was sporting a hard on by the end.

He licked his lips, wondering whether it would be too obvious if he went to find Sam, rousted his partner from whatever cubby-hole Sam had secreted himself in once he'd muttered some excuses, his face bright red, and fled from Chris' immediate vicinity. After all, teasing was fun but he didn't want to embarrass Sam to the extent that his partner started to avoid him. Or to the extent that that 'rabbit in headlights' look became a more or less permanent feature on his partner's face. Someone would be bound to notice if he did, and the only person he wanted 'noticing' anything was Sam.

And speak of the devil, here he came, looking considerably more composed than the last time that Chris had seen him. He made an internal bet with himself on how long it would take for him to once again shatter that composure. He hadn't used his full 'arsenal' as it were yet. It was surprising how many double entendres you could come up with from a simple weapons test. Of course, he admitted to himself scrupulously honestly, the dimples didn't hurt. A few flashes of those and he could project an air of complete innocence that fooled most people, even his partner on occasion, and yet still indulge in the most obvious of filthy comments.

He used them now, greeting Sam with a beaming smile as his partner settled himself on the edge of his desk, Sam's own expression bordering on guileless. About to open his mouth and start again on the attributes of his 'weapon' he was taken aback when Sam spoke first, his eyes shining with enthusiasm.

"You were right."

"Pardon?" he asked, confusion evident in every line of his body.

"This testing thing. It's fun. Glad Malone suggested me for this one."

"What one?"

Sam turned wide, green eyes on him and his heart sank, recognising that for all of the innocence in that look he was about to pay in spades for his teasing earlier.

"Oh, it's great, Chris. Really useful."

"What is?"

"... Sleek and smooth and easy to insert..."

"'Scuse me?"

"Electric, of course, but with its own discrete power pack."


"Nary a sound to give away what you're doing as you slide it home."

Sam's hands were waving around with evident enthusiasm for whatever this gadget was, and it just couldn't be what Chris' mind was summoning up. He found his gaze caught by those long, elegant fingers as they gestured with smooth, graceful movements.


"And once you find the right hole it just slips in so easily..."


"Wiggle it around a bit until you find the right spot..."

Oh shit. Sam wasn't the only one who'd had a hard on today.

"Press all the right buttons and voila..."

"Voila?" he questioned weakly.

"Up it pops," Sam beamed.

He was definitely missing something, and was praying that Sam was also missing something, namely the tent in his pants. He shuffled around on his seat, giving Sam an evil look.

"Up what pops?"

Sam blinked at him, slowly and innocently. "Why the tumbler in the lock, of course."

"What lock?"

"The lock you use this new electronic lock pick on, Chris. What did you think I was talking about?"

He ignored the question and gave Sam an even more evil look, which was like water off a duck's back as far as Sam was concerned, his partner seeming to be completely oblivious to either his irritation or the cause of it.

The key word, of course, being 'seeming'.

"Lock pick..." he repeated slowly.

"Why yes, Chris," Sam continued, enthusiasm leaking from every pore in a way that, frankly, wasn't like him at all. "It's great. Useful for all sorts of things. Front doors... back entrances." There was a slight pause before Sam uttered that last phrase, and his eyes shone with innocent and boundless enthusiasm.

Too boundless and way too innocent. Chris' eyes narrowed suspiciously as his partner continued to outline the merits of this device.

"Can slide past the most... sturdy of defences."

Okay, that was the last straw. No way in hell was Sam doing this 'innocently'. Not only was he throwing one of Chris' own innuendos back in the American's face but the mask of guileless innocence had slipped and that was a definite smirk adorning his partner's face.

Son of a...

"Are you okay, Chris?" asked Sam, his expression back to one of 'butter wouldn't melt'. "You've gone awfully... pale."

Yeah, Sam, and that's probably because all of my blood has just rushed elsewhere, he thought a little acidly, but didn't quite lose the plot enough to say out loud.

Instead he contented himself to glaring at his partner, who'd gone back to smirking.

There would, he swore to himself, come a reckoning. Weapons at ten paces if necessary.

Oh Christ. The blood was definitely heading south now, triggered by that thought and the images it provoked, and judging by the slow, sultry smile crossing his partner's face, this time it hadn't gone unnoticed by Sam.


All in all, reflected Tina Backus with some satisfaction, it had been a good day. CI5 budget time, which would normally be greeted with groans from the various operatives, wondering what cuts would come. This time, however, Malone had decided that CI5's arsenal, both of weapons and the other technologies that they used in their day-to-day battle against the criminal element, needed expanding.

And for once it wasn't just the boys who got to play with the toys. She was quite pleased to note that this time she'd got to have some input into the purchasing decisions, which, she felt, could only bode well for the way she was perceived within the organisation. Not just as 'Backup' but as a contributing agent in her own right. She was determined, therefore, to take this assessment of new equipment seriously, which was why she was still here with only the skeleton night shift.

With another inner smile, she fiddled with the small transceiver on her desk and was rewarded by the sound of voices through the earpiece she wore.


Sam's voice. It appeared that she wasn't the only one who was taking this process seriously. She tapped the end of her pencil on the desk, listening more for quality and clarity of sound and reception rather than the words themselves as Sam continued to speak.

"I thought you were going to get it out and show me, Chris."

Ah. Both of them were taking it seriously. Good. It was about time they took something seriously instead of wasting their time chasing women. Especially when the woman in question wasn't her.

"Impatient, aren't we?" Chris' voice, sounding amused. She made a note about the clarity of reception meaning that nuances in voices could be heard and interpreted.

"You're the one who was so keen on showing me its penetrative power, Chris."

"Eager too," Chris teased. Yep - she'd agree with that assessment about the boys. Their eyes tended to light up more around heavy-duty firepower than short skirts and nothing seemed to hit their collective buttons more than ordinance.

A sudden gasp of breath - she couldn't tell from which one and made a note about distance from the mike not always being clear - and then Sam's voice came back, sounding very pleased with what he was seeing.

"You're right. Most impressive. Very nice... calibre. And it can be used in all terrains, you said?"

"Maybe." A low chuckle. "Wanna strip down to your Speedos again, buddy, and give it the old college try?"

Ah. That explained why they both sounded quite so breathless. Obviously they'd been swimming before having this conversation. She rather regretted not getting to see Sam in his Speedos. She was sure it would be an impressive sight. Not quite sure about testing weaponry in the pool though.

She was so caught up in the image of Sam in Speedos she almost missed the low sigh that came next, and then Sam's voice came back, still sounding a little breathless. "Am I allowed to handle the merchandise?"

"Oh yeah," breathed Chris. "Providing I get to have a go with yours too, buddy."

A slight pause while Sam obviously retrieved his gadget, and then Chris' voice came back, sounding almost as pleased as Sam's had been. "Oh yeah... You were right. Slim and sleek and... it looks very easy to insert. Just ease it into the right hole, was that it? And jiggle it about until it hits the right spot?"

That's right, she remembered. Sam was trying out a new lock pick. Surprising that Chris was showing so much enthusiasm for it. He normally just liked kicking doors in rather than being so subtle. Still, if Sam was going to act as a calming influence on his partner, all to the good and it was nice to see Chris so eager to try out something electric.

They moved back to Chris' weapon, talking now about its upkeep and she yawned, wondering why it was that men seemed to the whole process of maintaining it so fascinating. As far as she was concerned, you used it, you cleaned it, you got it ready for the next time. No need for the kind of performance Sam and Chris were putting into it. They were approaching the whole task with a lot of enthusiasm, sharing muttered comments about oiling it and cleaning the pipes out, about sliding the mechanism home again, about making sure it was well holstered.

And then they seemed to get bored with that and move on to Sam's lock pick. He was obviously demonstrating its capabilities to Chris, but she couldn't tell what he was saying because there was a sudden build up of interference, sounding half way between a sigh and a strangled moan. She frowned and made a note of it - obviously the equipment was a little too sensitive.

Ah, that was better. She could hear again and they appeared to have moved on to a practical demonstration. Sam was encouraging Chris' attempts to master it with soft words of encouragement, "Yes, yes, that's it," intermingled every now and then with a gasped admonishment to go slowly. Chris was obviously jiggling it with a bit too much enthusiasm. And then, finally Chris seemed to get the knack of using it, if Sam's fervent, "Oh God, that's it!" was any indication.

"Pushing all the right buttons, buddy?" she heard Chris ask, sounding as though the concentration that had been needed to achieve his aim had taken its toll. His voice was low and breathy - or maybe that was the reception. She missed Sam's reply in another burst of that odd sounding static.

She sighed, wondering if she was ever going to be able to lose herself her job as completely those two were, or be as excited by the tools of their trade, and pulled off her headset. The static was building up again to the point that it was beginning to irritate her - their voices sounded fuzzy, less clear than they had earlier, their words running together in some places and those same sounds of interference becoming more obvious, occasionally replacing their voices altogether. To be honest, she was rather disappointed with the range she had and giving up the test seemed the best option since she wasn't getting anything coherent any longer. She made a notation on the pad to that effect, wondering if the batteries were wearing out, and sighed again, deciding that the test of this new hidden mike was a washout. Thank God that Sam and Chris, at least, were having some success.

Boys with their toys. She'd just leave them to it. She was sure they'd give her a full report about the capabilities tomorrow.

The End