Bank holiday challenge fic
Hope you like it.
Doyle picked idly at the rusty paint covering the railings along the pier as he gazed at the wet sand beneath him. Down on the beach a fat, grey seagull picked at an empty ice cream wrapper, tossing it in the air and squawking angrily at the other gulls hovering greedily in the distance. The stale smell of seaweed and salt filled the air, and he unconsciously wiped a hand under his nose in distaste.
English Riviera, my arse.
He turned his head towards the shoreline. The tide was miles out, the sea no more than a thin unbroken line in the distance and he watched silently as a group of children gamely made their way towards the water with an inflatable dinghy carried above their heads, picking carefully through various bundles of seaweed deposited on the sand. He glanced again at the murky brown-blue sea on the horizon. It hardly seemed worth the walk.
He looked down at his watch. Ten o’clock. Bodie would be here soon and then they could go home, beat the bank holiday traffic and leave bloody Torbay to the tourists.
He turned his back on the children, wandering instead towards the amusements and slot machines that filled the length of the pier. Still keeping an eye out for Bodie, he walked past a little blonde girl who was earnestly pouring coin after coin into a roll-a-penny game. Doyle smiled in spite of himself. Bodie loved this kind of thing. He would have wasted so much time here on the amusements, playing on every single machine and gloating like a bastard every time he won anything. He chuckled as the little girl hit the jackpot and immediately began shovelling her winnings right back into the same game. There was no doubt, Bodie would absolutely love the pier’s tacky penny arcade with its ageing slot machines and the annoyingly cheerful music blaring out over the sound of crashing coins and shouting children. Doyle shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away. Well, he’d love it if they were actually allowed time to enjoy it. If only they were here on holiday, and not on bloody duty.
Doyle turned and made his way towards the front of the pier. He looked at his watch one more time. Five past ten. Bodie should be there by now, with a bit of luck all packed up and ready to go. He sidestepped the queue for Madame Incredible’s fortune telling booth and scanned the mass of people mulling about on the green by the entrance to the pier, looking out for Bodie amongst the crowd. He zipped up his coat as the wind began to pick up around him, feeling a few spots of fine rain begin to splutter and spit in the air. Absolutely Typical. Two weeks in the glorious “English Riviera” and all he’d had was wind, rain and boredom. Not that Bodie had fared much better. At least Doyle only had to go through the motions of being a typical English tourist, stuck in a grotty B&B and taking in all the dubious delights that summer in Torbay had to offer, checking in with Bodie whenever they had the chance. Bodie on the other hand had been in much deeper. Doyle let out a long, slow breath. Who’d have thought there were terrorists in Torbay, for Christ’s sake.
Doyle picked his way slowly through the busy crowd, heading towards the dilapidated row of cafes lined up between the green and the sea wall. Bodie might have come out a little worse for wear, but everything had been neatly tied up in the end, with the gang’s leaders safely handed over to Cowley and Bodie still in one piece and ready to head back to London.
He sat down on the low sandstone wall outside a faded booth advertising fishing trips around the bay, looking at his watch one more time. Quarter past ten now. He sat still, watching the children enjoying donkey rides over the green and families playing cricket or rounders, resolutely ignoring the grey clouds looming above. He didn’t move or turn his head when Bodie lowered himself down next to him, nudging him with his foot as he nodded towards a stall a few yards down the road.
“I don’t know about you mate, but I fancy an ice cream before we head off.” Bodie rubbed his hands together appreciatively. “Clotted cream vanilla with a flake stuck in the side and more clotted cream on top. My favourite.”
Doyle looked at the spots of rain that were beginning to darken the concrete pathway in front of them. “It’s freezing.”
Bodie shrugged. “It’s summer in England. Ice cream on the beach, what more can you ask for? It’s like being on holiday.”
Doyle looked across at the purple bruise slowly fading across Bodie’s jaw, the slight swelling on his lower lip that still hadn’t quite gone down. He propped his hands on the wall behind him and leaned backwards.
“We’re gonna be late. Don’t much fancy getting stuck in the bank holiday traffic going back on the M5.”
Bodie didn’t answer, turning his head instead to watch a family pay at the entrance to the crazy golf further down the green, picking up their clubs and scorecards and five bright red golf balls. Doyle followed his gaze.
“We really should head off.”
Bodie nodded in agreement, but didn’t make any move to heave himself off the low stone wall. Doyle frowned to himself and let out an exasperated sigh. The simple fact was that they weren’t on holiday, they were still on duty. Always on bloody duty. If they had been on holiday then they would have been able to put up deckchairs side by side on the beach, waste all their money on the penny arcade, eat ice cream until they were sick…
He looked at Bodie out of the corner of his eye.
…they would have been able to go out to the pub in the evening, stagger home after one pint too many of the local ale, head back to the B&B. Share a room. Be together.
Doyle kicked at a pebble with his toe. This was no holiday. “I just want to go home.”
Bodie nodded again, his eyes still fixed somewhere in the distance. He leaned back slightly, hands braced behind him, his fingers brushing against Doyle’s and staying there, warm and firm against Doyle’s skin. Doyle wrapped his little finger around Bodie’s, holding him there in place.
He blinked against a shaft of sunlight that was making its way through the grey clouds, holding on to Bodie’s hand clasped behind them. He gave a gentle squeeze and felt his own hand gripped firmly in return. Doyle smiled, enjoying the sunlight on his face and Bodie’s presence beside him.
Just as if he was on holiday.
Title: Not on holiday
Author: Foxcat
Bodie/Doyle
I own nothing, and this is done entirely for fun.