Monty Python And The Barbados Fic (Eric/Mike/OFC)

Chapter 1

January 1978

Heron Bay, Barbados

     As the taxi pulled away and he got his first deep inhale of ocean air, Michael Palin quickly discovered he’d made a very good choice indeed to join his friends and colleagues for a working holiday in Barbados.

     At first, the idea of travelling abroad just to continue working around a table on their typewriters had seemed mostly unnecessary and rather expensive. Together with Terry Jones, he believed they’d made – as usual – the sober and sensible choice to stay at home in England and finish the script for their next film there. Much more convenient and economical.

     Unfortunately (or, fortunately, in this case), their colleagues Eric Idle and John Cleese could boast enough enthusiasm to coax Terry’s curiosity, and bend even Michael’s righteousness. Now they found themselves outside an enormous coral stone villa, and surrounded by trees and grasses that reached up into the bluest blue sky that either of them had ever seen.

     An elaborate Victorian door creaked open, and from inside emerged a red-faced John, an especially golden Eric, and the rarely seen but often spoken-of Y/N, who Eric had now been seeing for many months and with whom he declared he fell instantly in love.

     “So you’ve come to join us at last, have you?” called John, striding toward them and lazily wrapping a warm drunken arm around Terry’s shoulders. “Did you really need quite so much convincing?”

     “I suppose I did, yes. Mike not so much,” Terry admitted, coolly slipping free of the Cleese grip. He surveyed the impressive stonework and columns in front of him, and slowly he, too, warmed to the idea of a working holiday in the sun.

     “How are you both?” Eric greeted them in an unusually relaxed tone. Clearly the combination of sunshine, warmth, and probably a good woman by his side had done wonders for him.

     “I hope the trip was awful,” he added.

     “Absolutely dreadful,” said Michael, “I’d packed all twelve of my favourite books, ready for the flight, and hardly got past a chapter before I conked right out and missed everything.”

     He could feel the jet lag slowly sinking in, but a warm laugh from Eric and Y/N kept Michael alert, and he gazed wide-eyed at his surroundings.

     “You’re looking well, Y/N,” he said, taking in her now familiar appearance.

     “It’s so good to see you, Mike,” she replied with a disarming smile, and tried to remember when they’d last seen each other in person. “That’ll be all this sunshine and fresh air, I think.”

     “Yeah, sunshine, eh? What a concept!” said Eric, “Christ, if I never see snow again, I’ll be a happy man for the rest of my life.”

     “I suppose it does have its charms,” Terry conceded, already very pleased that they’d decided to travel after all. “Come on John, show me where I can find whatever it is that’s got you like that.”

     His and John’s voices followed them through the door and down a corridor, echoing off of the stone walls and floors as they headed to the nearest drinks trolley for a cocktail.

     “Ooh yes, that’s a good idea,” squeaked Eric. “Now come on, love, I’ll show you to your room.”

     “You’ll do what?” Mike exclaimed with pretend outrage, “You mean I’ve come all this way, to this big grand mansion which has seen the likes of Churchill himself, and I don’t even get to choose my own room?”

     “Well, I figured if I left it up to you, darling, you’d wanna kip with me, and we can’t be having that,” replied Eric in his favourite Mumsie voice. “Well, not just yet, anyway,” he quietly added with an exaggerated wink.

     Even on holiday, the lads of Monty Python took any opportunity to jump into character.

     “Oh Mike, you’ll just love it,” Y/N encouraged, herself adopting a strange and posh character of her own creation. “There’s a simply marvelous view of the road from your room. Truly inspiring!”

     Michael returned her phony sentiment with a squinty, full-cheeked smile and shifted his bag strap onto his shoulder before following Eric up the front steps and indoors. Y/N stayed behind, choosing to give the two old pals some time to catch up alone.

     “I still think we could finish the script much more quickly in London, but I see why this place is so enticing.” Michael conceded to Eric, who had returned to the soft and kindred version of himself that Michael knew very well, but only ever when they were alone. In a crowd, Eric was loud and gregarious, with endless jokes and witticisms to keep his company rolling with laughter. But there was a side of him, reserved for only his closest confidantes, that was quiet, thoughtful, and romantic. Here was the man behind the madness.

     “Pretty special, eh? I told you you’d have to see it for yourself.” Eric smiled. “I dunno if it’s the walls, or the porticos, or something about the way the breezes sweep the sun in through the windows… I think this must be what being a god feels like, y’know? Do whatever you please, driven by nature and desire, with absolutely no thought as to the consequences. Brilliant.”

     “That’ll be the Jagger effect, then,” said Michael, hinting at his friend’s rockstar associations.

     “The what?”

     Michael looked at him with all-knowing raised eyebrows.

     “Do you – do you know?” Eric questioned with hushed concern. Mick Jagger of The Rolling Stones had asked Eric’s help in hiding him and model Jerry Hall somewhere beautiful and discreet, out of view of the press and public. Jerry was the girlfriend of singer Bryan Ferry, and in a very rock ‘n roll fashion, they had met up, gotten cozy, and ran off together. They were staying nearby in a fairly glamorous hut, and Eric and Y/N had already been enjoying villa visits and beach terrace dinners with the scandalous couple for a few weeks.

     “Of course I know. You bloody well told me, you silly fool!” Michael tutted, and recalled a phone conversation he’d had with a fairly drunken Eric a fortnight earlier:

     “‘Come on, Mikey,’ you said, ‘you’ll love it down here. Mick’s here with Bryan Ferry’s girlfriend, and we’ve all got our tits out!’”

     “Blimey. Trust me, eh?”

     “Never mind, Eric. Your secret’s safe with me,” Michael assured him with a sturdy pat on his shoulder before turning into what he decided would be his room for the length of his stay.