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

Chapter 6

       “There’s something almost kingly about waking up alone,” declared John Cleese as he and Eric made their way to the morning room to start the day’s work. They had both set out early, Eric having slept quite poorly, perched atop his typewriter, and John unusually well-rested.

       “The peace and privacy and space,” he continued, “Yes, I think it sets one up rather well for the day.”

       “If you say so,” Eric abided with a small smile.

       Before recently, Eric’s preference was to fall asleep with a girl beside him and by the time he’d wake up in the morning, she would be long gone. Thus went the final years of his previous marriage, rocky and uncommitted – his “asshole years” as he’d come to refer to them. As all things tend to do, marriage seemed like the right idea at the time, but the seductive adventure of fame was more than Eric had bargained for.

       “How are things with you and Connie, anyway?” he asked his now strutting friend.

       In fact, none of the visitors had seen any sign of John’s wife Connie Booth for months. The two had never been particularly candid about their relationship, but other than seeing her on the television in late-night repeats of Fawlty Towers (of which plans for a second series were now rumoured), she remained mostly unseen.

       “I’m not going to talk about it,” said John with finality.

       “Oh come on, John.”

       “No. I’m not going to,” he repeated, stroking his mustache.

       “Not even to advise your old pal?”

       They had reached their destined room, and John set to work immediately rearranging the cushions on the sofas and armchairs.

       “Eric, you’ve just spent Christmas in the West Indies with a beautiful woman. You don’t need my advice.”

       “I just don’t want to mess up again,” Eric confessed heavily, plopping his curled copy of the script onto an end table. “All the shit from before. Is it really worth going through that again?”

       “Why? God! Don’t tell me you’re marrying Lyn again,”

       “No! No, obviously I mean Y/N.”

       “And? She’s a very nice girl, so what’s the problem now?”

       Eric was baffled, and searched his hands for an answer.

       “Eric, every relationship is a new start,” John began, suddenly soulful. “Every marriage is a new set of conditions and variables. You know that. Y/N comes with entirely different features and functions, and even you - you’re different to what you were before. You’ll be different every time. Except for some things, of course. You’ll always be an ugly, greedy bastard with a smart mouth and no sense of occasion.”

       “Cheers,”

       “But you’ve come a long way - I’ll say that for you. Anyway, what does Y/N have to say?”

       “I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it.”

       Raising his eyebrows and lowering his chin, John gave Eric his famously unimpressed face, “Well that’s your first problem. I can’t imagine what’s stopping you.”

       “Can’t you?” asked Eric, looking up from under his fringe.

       Against the wishes of the house staff, lunch was taken later in the day (“teatime” as Terry Jones insisted) on a folding picnic table on one of the many lawn areas around the lot. With the addition of a cotton table cloth and wooden bench seating, Mr. Brown the butler couldn’t refrain from voicing his distaste. Eric and Michael doubled up with charm to convince him to leave it be.