Pairing: Polly/Mal
Rating: D

Disclaimer: The author makes no claim to owning the rights of anything to do with Terry Pratchett or Discworld.

The Army Field Guide
by Treehugger

The Army Field Guide to Bribery.

“C’mon Polly...”

A shake of the head.

“They have coffee liqueurs.” The pleading look tried valiantly to soften that hard heart. “57 varieties, Polly. Even Fouquette’s only has five.”

“It’s a vampire bar.” Polly was adamant. “I’ll get eaten. I feel no desire to get eaten today.”

“I promise you Pol, on my honour as a dastardly untruthful army brat, there will be no eating tonight that you will not find measurably pleasant.”

There was a pause as her companion worked out all the possibilities contained in that cleverly worded statement and then blushing, Polly relented.

“But only a few...”

~X~

The Army Field Guide to Dignity

“Polly!”

She was giggling! Again!

Generally Mal had no complaints. The girl was inventive and exceedingly good with her hands – but there was this unfortunate tendency toward levity. A rumpled head immerged, laughter filled eyes lifting to hers.

“You squeaked” she faltered apologetically.

“I did not!” Mal raised herself onto her elbows, needing to emphasise her point.

“I do not squeak. Such a thing would be undignified.”

Polly’s raised eyebrow encompassed the awkward position they had been forced to adopt, assessing it for dignity promoting potential and grudgingly Mal found herself forced to agree.

“We’re gonna need a bigger tent.”

~X~

The Army Field Guide to Doing One’s Duty

“Mal?”

“Shhh!”

Expressive eyes above the hand clamped over her mouth screamed that Polly was willing to keep silent if, please god, Mal would only return to the task in hand.

Two figures frozen in the shadows, rusty metal of the storage container cold against Polly’s back, Mal straining to locate the sound that had interrupted the quiet of the isolated dock.

“New heartbeat.” Her whisper caressing Polly’s neck. “Think it’s our guy.”

A rueful smile and she was gone, leaving Polly slumped trembling against the wall. Gathering herself together, Polly cursed surveillance ops, drew her sword and gave chase.

~X~

The Army Field Guide to Difficult Ops.

“Thought vampires were allergic to sunlight...”

Mal stretched in the sun like a well fed cat, tipping the large incongruous farmer hat further over her eyes. Sprawled atop the cargo her pose reeked of relaxation. Two weeks they’d been “escorting” this wagon train. Two weeks of sauntering lazily through the Borogravian countryside, undisturbed by the raiders intelligence had indicated might be stealing the Army’s cotton supply. After the winter they’d had it was joy itself to lie in the sun as quiet day followed quiet day, occasional poking the oxen to stop them falling asleep.

“We adapt, Polly, we adapt.”

~X~

The Army Field Guide to Etiquette.

“...with a snail if you slow to a crawl, but the hedgehog can never be--”

“POLLY!!” Mal stumbled into the singer, whether by accident or design it was hard to tell.

“Yes Sergeant?” Polly hiccupped delicately. “How may I be of ass-ass-ssistance this fine evening?”

“I don’ think you should be s-singing that here Liff-tn, Leff-ten ...boss. We’re mm-mm-amm-mmbas-ass-adors ‘member.

“Mm-mm-amm-mmbas-ass-adors?” Polly waved an unsteady finger. “You’re drunk, shargent. Turrible behaviour in front of a shuperioriorior offisher.” She hiccupped rebelliously. “Iss good song.”

Luckily for Borogravia, Mal staggered into her again at that point, silencing her in a well practised fashion.

~X~

The Army Field Guide to Formal Procedure.

“It’s in Regulations, Officers; Caps; Procedures For The Wearing Of. You’re a Lieutenant now, you’ve got to remember these things.”

“Hang on...” Mal slid away, reaching over the side of the bed to feel about on the floor. Apparently what she was looking for was not there and she squirmed further over the edge. Being a vampire she did not fall ungracefully out of bed as Polly was wont to do under similar circumstances.

...

“Better?” Mal re-appeared with said cap adjusted to a jaunty angle.

“Most fetching.” Polly drew her into an admiring embrace. “You do know that’s my hat...”

~X~

The Army Field Guide to Inebriation.

“One more.” Polly waved vaguely toward where she thought the barman was standing with his friendly bottle of rotgut.

“I think you’ve had enough, Lieutenant.”

“I can still see Harper’s insides dangling from the bright spring leaves of that bush.” She said it perfectly calmly. “I’ll have one more shot Sergeant and maybe one more after that and you’ll not stop me.”

Polly drank the drink.

Later as Mal held her hair back as she knelt over the gutter the vampire didn’t say “I told you so” but merely carried her home and put her to bed.

War was hell.

~X~

The Army Field Guide to Medals and Medal Ceremonies.

“...Captain Perks!”

Polly stumbled out to face the crowd squashed into the ornate room, hurriedly tucking her shirt-tail into her breeches.

She hadn’t wanted to come, had thought the idea of medals at a time like this was stupid. She had definitely grumbled loud and long over the scratchyness of her new dress tunic. That was until Mal had enforced an ingenious method of distraction on her after finding Polly hiding backstage.

“...For performance under difficult conditions!”

Ramrod straight as Clogson pinned the medal on, Polly resolved to hand the trinket over to her Lieutenant at the first available opportunity.

~X~

The Army Field Guide to Pervasive Odours.

Polly sat bolt upright. There was something there, something uncertain, teasing at the edge of her senses. Drawn by something unseen, she swung her legs over the side of the bed.

...

A figure wanders the dark corridors wrapped in a shabby blanket, following the smallest trace of scent. She feels her way onward toward her goal, the thread tugging her forward winding up around the spindle of her heart. Entering the kitchen, she slips grateful arms around the longed for personage brewing up over the stove, inhaling the scent of coffee, cigarettes and Mal, pure Mal.

“You got back.”

~X~

The Army Field Guide to Spelling.

“What does this say?” Mal was frowning oddly at the notebook.

“’Exercise’? ‘Expensive’ maybe?” Polly squinted, trying to remember what she’d meant when she’d scrawled those words, obviously in some kind of a hurry judging by the spiderlike tracing across the page.

“It looks like ‘Exquisite’ but why would you be writing that?”

Polly blinked. Surely she’d torn that page out and hidden it somewhere safe? She reached for the notepad, hiding her apprehension behind mild curiosity, but Mal snatched it away holding it out of reach.

“’Half hidden, like a...’? Polly, is there something you want to tell me?”

[Thanks to Keats for his “Eve of St Agnes”]

~X~

The Army Field Guide to Vows.

“Mal?” Polly could only manage a croak but it drew the attention of the figure quietly sitting at her bedside.

“Hey there Pol. How’re you feeling?”

“Ick.” The word covered a multitude of symptoms. “You shouldn’t be here, you don’t wanna catch this.” A vampire would be concerned about that; Dysentery was an undignified illness to come down with.

“‘In Sickness and In Health’ I believe the saying goes. I gave my word remember?” She laid a cool hand on a frowning brow, brushing back damp hair.

“Now, go to sleep Polly, I’ll be here when you wake up.”