Discovered In The Fairy Lights - Fic: A Festive Gift
I am utterly surprised I even managed this, and it isnt even a drabble! It's probably the most I've managed to write for months. Some - most - of you may be happy about this. I dont blame you. However, here it is, in all its glory. Inflicted on you, at this happy time of year. Be afraid, be very afraid. Muwahahahaha.
HAPPY, HAPPY CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEAR TO YOU ALL XXX
BDDBBDDB
The sleeping bag was purple with orange swirls decorating it, but it was functional with a zipper all down one side and along the bottom. Easy to get into and out of. And the most important consideration of all - it was warm.
At least, that was what the salesman had told him when he had, in a mad fit of generosity, decided to buy Bodie a new one for Christmas.
Sadly, it seemed that the salesman had told him a rather large porky.
“Bodie, will you shut up? I wish I had never bought you the bloody thing now,” Doyle grumbled, fed up of hearing about how useless his gift was and how he, Doyle, was the most inconsiderate partner a man could have.
Bloody Cowley. If he hadn’t sent them up north on this training exercise in Bloody January, Doyle’d still be nice and warm and cosy in his own bed. And if Bloody Bodie felt that way about his gift, Doyle muttered under his breath, then Bloody Bodie could just take his sleeping bag and shove it up his…
“What?” Doyle didn’t quite catch the complaint Bodie had made.
“I said you ought to try it. See how it feels yourself,” Bodie replied.
“You must be joking - not unless you join them both together, ‘cause I am not listening to you moaning whilst standing in the cold!”
Doyle’d never thought Bodie would take him up on this ‘offer’ but it seemed Doyle was wrong. It was just a pity his fingers were that cold it took him twice as long to join together the two bags.
It was funny, he mused to himself, how warm it appeared to be when two bodies slid into one huge sleeping bag. Maybe that salesman wasn’t too far wrong after all.
Except… Doyle tutted. Bloody Bodie was once again Bloody Complaining. And yes, Doyle grimaced, he knew he was using up far too many capitals but this situation deserved it. So what was this new complaint?
“…sodding wrist watch, you git. Look, you’ve made my hand bleed.” Bodie held up his hand so Doyle could see.
“And just how am I have supposed to have made your hand bleed?” Doyle asked. “Nothing to do with me, mate.”
“Your watch caught me.” Bodie obviously wasn’t a happy bunny on this training exercise. Neither was he, but you didn’t hear him complain did you? Well, only about his Bloody Partner Bloody Complaining all the Bloody time.
“Aww diddums. For pity’s sake, Bodie, will you stop moaning? I’m not enjoying this any more than you are. It’s cold, dark, the middle of January and we are up here in sodding Northumberland stuck in a sleeping bag - which, may I add, was an expensive pressie (or at least part of it was a pressie) - and all I’ve heard is you grumbling. Give it a bloody rest, willya?”
With this, Doyle turned his back towards his unhappy partner, fluffed his pillow to his liking and slumped down. Woe betide if he grumbles again, thought Doyle miserably, I’ll give him what for.
Thankfully Doyle felt Bodie settle himself down. He was almost asleep when he heard him whisper about how Doyle’s gift ‘wasn’t bad with two in it’. He had to smile. His last thought was about how he’d make it up to him on their return.
BDDBBD
“Get out of my kitchen, Bodie, or I’ll thump you. And stop nicking the raisins, will you? I won’t have enough for the pudding.”
Back from their wild and windy training exercise at last, Doyle had thought of the perfect way to make up for the useless bloody sleeping bag. He grinned as he remembered just how Bodie had ripped it into shreds before launching all the fluff and other bits into a huge black bin at the depot. Bodie hadn’t realised how much stuff had clung to him and until he’d spotted himself in a mirror, couldn’t understand why Doyle had laughed himself silly.
Laughing himself, he’d brushed himself down and said, “Just like Father Christmas, eh?”
This had reminded Doyle just how little of Christmas they’d actually seen, and he’d decided that he and Bodie would have their own Christmas Day. He’d suggested this to his partner and was gratified as the little boy had come out in him, complete with a joyful grin.
“With pressies too, Doyle? Go on, say we’ll have pressies. And a pudding. Gotta have a proper Christmas pudding. My mother always used to make the best ever Christmas puddings. Always knew when it was near Christmas as you could smell the brandy from miles around.” There was no one who could look as puppy-dog eyed as Bodie when he put his mind to it. Doyle couldn’t resist.
“Go on then. But I refuse to put the decorations back up. It’s far too late for that, it’s practically February,” Doyle remembered saying firmly.
He looked around the fairy-light and tinsel-strewn living room as he pushed Bodie back in with a sigh. Bodie could twist him round his little finger with a solitary look.
He lost himself in making the pudding before calling Bodie back into the kitchen.
“Here.” He handed Bodie a silver sixpence. “You have to make a wish whilst stirring the mixture.” Their fingers touched briefly.
“I wish-“
“No! You can’t say it out loud, it won’t come true if you do,” Doyle quickly interrupted.
Bodie sighed and smiled gently. “I was only going to say I wish we could have done this on the correct day. 25th December.”
Doyle smiled back. He’d always recognised Bodie was the traditional sort. It was a shame they couldn’t indulge as they’d wanted this time round. Never mind, they had the here and now. He watched with interest as Bodie stirred the mixture a few times, his eyes firmly closed, before dropping the sixpence into the bowl. A couple more stirs and Bodie opened his eyes again.
“Your turn now, Ray.”
Doyle held the coin tightly. He knew what he was going to wish for was impossible, but even so he’d known that he would wish for it. Like wishing for eight draws on the pools or for Birmingham to win the First Division. He opened his hand and let his own coin drop into the bowl.
“Done. Right, Bodie, just going to put this in the steamer then I think we should have a drink before I check on the turkey. So bugger off back to the living room and sort out the drinks, there’s a good boy.” He patted him on the back and laughed as Bodie made his Neanderthal face and departed.
A good lad was Bodie. Best partner a bloke could have. Best friend too. Meant a lot to him to have Bodie as his best mate. He couldn’t have envisaged asking anyone else round here to do a late Christmas Day feast. Not even his own family were as close as Bodie was. Felt right, somehow. Doyle hoped it was the same for Bodie, but he knew Bodie knew where he stood in Doyle’s scheme of things.
Well, he mostly knew. Doyle smiled to himself as he put the pudding on to steam. Sometimes things were best left a mystery.
BDDBBDDB
“Gloves, Bodie? Why gloves?” Doyle stroked the soft yellow leather driving gloves. “I mean, have you ever seen me use them?”
Bodie shrugged. “Just because I’ve never seen you use them, doesn’t mean that you won’t in future, does it?” A flicker of disappointment was quickly smothered, so quickly Doyle wasn’t even certain he had seen it.
He knew he would use them, though, even if they did make him feel like he was driving a tractor. “True.” He smiled. “No, I will use them, mate. They are lovely. So soft.”
“It’s not your only pressie. Go on, open the other parcel,” Bodie was urging.
He picked up the gaudily printed package and shook it. “Well, I don’t think it’s a bomb. What is it?”
Bodie rolled his eyes. “It’s a bomb. For god’s sake, Doyle, open the thing. You’ll find out when you open it. Go on.”
Doyle felt for the edges of the paper, knowing that his carefulness in opening things drove his partner crazy. “Hmm, feels like a book. Hang on, just let me get the scissors to cut this sellotape off.”
“For God’s sake, Ray, just pull the paper off!”
Doyle winked at his partner. He’d wondered when the explosion would occur but it had happened sooner than he’d thought. As had the faint tinge of pink on Bodie’s cheeks. Strange, he’d never seen Bodie blush before. Curiouser and curiouser, as Alice was wont to say.
Of course, Bodie would deny it. He’d make up some excuse like the room was too hot, or the drink was - Ahh there, the pressie was almost open.
Doyle pulled out the book. Obviously hand-made; he recognised Bodie’s handwriting. His best handwriting too.
“Bodie and Doyle’s Big Adventures. Oh yes? What’s all this then?” He flicked carefully through it before glancing at his evermore sheepish looking partner. “Photos?”
Bodie shrugged. “Thought it’d be nice to compile some of our best bits into a book.”
Doyle stared at him, deep in thought, before looking once again at the book and the photos. Doyle remembered Anson being a sod with a camera, taking them unawares and he realised these must have been the ones.
He and Bodie curled over their respective typewriters, deep into finishing their reports. Bodie mock strangling him in their office. A proud Doyle looking on as Cowley had singled Bodie out and praised him after the Jackson operation. A back shot of him and Bodie looking at the notice board to see what their next job was, Bodie’s arm casually slung over his shoulders as it normally was.
Another showed Bodie clowning about with the new silver Capri. A typical pose generally performed by some scantily clad bird - except Bodie was covered from neck to toe as usual - but it was fundamentally the same pose. Bodie luxuriously lying on the bonnet, an exaggerated pout on his lips, one leg curled up. His tight black cords left little to the imagination.
Doyle felt his mouth go dry and his heart thump in his chest. He glanced briefly up at Bodie who himself was extremely interested, it would seem, in the cabinet in the corner of the room. He looked back down at the book in his hands.
Not just a shop bought book, oh no, that would have been too easy. No, Bodie, his best mate and partner had put together a collection of their best, funniest, nicest moments. He’d actually taken time and care to put this together and it was easily the nicest present he had had for a long, long time. Ever, in fact, if he thought about it.
Another flick and yet another photo. This time they were standing very close together, shoulders touching. Bodie had a soft smile on his face and was looking, well, inordinately proud, Doyle would have said. He himself had a soppy grin on his face. Looked like a wedding picture, he thought, and then blushed. He quickly looked at Bodie and felt his heart drop into his stomach.
Bodie was looking at him as if he was a piece of the most luscious chocolate cake in the world. Like he had to have him or die.
Oh. My. God. Bodie felt the same way.
Bodie felt the same way!
His eyes gave the game away. Those midnight blues were almost black and he was looking straight at Doyle.
Bloody hell!
Doyle couldn’t look away and Bodie was certainly holding his gaze. Trouble was, much as he wanted to, he wasn’t sure if his legs could hold him up enough to be able to wander across to where Bodie was.
He didn’t have to, he suddenly realised, as Bodie was there - right there - in front of him. And speaking.
“Whu-what?” he stammered, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering away furiously.
“Since when?” Bodie asked, and then made the mistake of touching one finger to his cheekbone - the one he’d broken years ago. He hoped Bodie wasn’t expecting a reply. That simple touch had taken away all his power of speech and he could only stare.
The kiss, when it came, was awkward and clumsy. Their noses bumped gently and their teeth clashed. A single strand of saliva connected them until Bodie licked his lips and swept it away. Despite - or maybe because of - all this, it was still the sweetest kiss Doyle had had for many a year, ever since Katie Jackson had kissed him at his fifth birthday party during a game of Postman’s Knock.
He knew he was gawping at Bodie with a daft smile on his face, probably identical to the one on Bodie’s face. Almost certainly resembling the one on that photo, actually, but he didn’t care. He leant forward to try another kiss.
This time it was soft and gentle, no clash of teeth marred the sweetness and only the lack of oxygen could have broken them apart.
“Must have been the Christmas pudding,” said Bodie, interrupting his musings.
“Eh? What does Christmas pudding have to do with…,” he hesitated, unable - unwilling, his mind supplied - to name what had just happened between them.
Bodie brought a hand up and caressed his cheek again. “Don’t you remember sunshine? The sixpences? The wishes?”
Doyle remembered. “I asked for you,” he began, “but I never expected it to happen so soon. Or ever, really.”
Another kiss, over too soon, and Bodie was speaking again. “Well, I didn’t actually ask for you - no, let me finish,” as Doyle tried to interrupt him, “I asked for you to be happy and for love to come into your life. That it’s me, who’s been wanting you for years, is just the icing on the cake. Merry Christmas, Raymond.”
Doyle wasn’t sure how they’d ended up in this place - some religious nuts would call it heaven, he wasn’t sure he even believed in heaven - but he gave silent thanks to someone that they had.
Even if it had taken an expensive, now definitely defunct, present!
BDDBBDDB
Title: A Festive Gift
Author: Probodie
Genre: Bodie/Doyle
Warnings: Only for fluff!!
Disclaimer: Sadly not mine, I just like to play occasionally with them
A/N: I would like to thank several people for prompts that enabled me to write this. I had intended to use all the prompts given. Sadly the fic got away from me before I could. However, thanks to siskiou, sc_fossil, hagsrus, tears_of_nienna, hambelandjemima, byslantedlight and heliophile_oxen for your ideas.
Beta by the wonderous londonronnie - all other mistakes and dangling wotevertheyaresits my own.
Merry Christmas and a Happy and Slashy New Year to you all x
HAPPY, HAPPY CHRISTMAS AND NEW YEAR TO YOU ALL XXX
BDDBBDDB
The sleeping bag was purple with orange swirls decorating it, but it was functional with a zipper all down one side and along the bottom. Easy to get into and out of. And the most important consideration of all - it was warm.
At least, that was what the salesman had told him when he had, in a mad fit of generosity, decided to buy Bodie a new one for Christmas.
Sadly, it seemed that the salesman had told him a rather large porky.
“Bodie, will you shut up? I wish I had never bought you the bloody thing now,” Doyle grumbled, fed up of hearing about how useless his gift was and how he, Doyle, was the most inconsiderate partner a man could have.
Bloody Cowley. If he hadn’t sent them up north on this training exercise in Bloody January, Doyle’d still be nice and warm and cosy in his own bed. And if Bloody Bodie felt that way about his gift, Doyle muttered under his breath, then Bloody Bodie could just take his sleeping bag and shove it up his…
“What?” Doyle didn’t quite catch the complaint Bodie had made.
“I said you ought to try it. See how it feels yourself,” Bodie replied.
“You must be joking - not unless you join them both together, ‘cause I am not listening to you moaning whilst standing in the cold!”
Doyle’d never thought Bodie would take him up on this ‘offer’ but it seemed Doyle was wrong. It was just a pity his fingers were that cold it took him twice as long to join together the two bags.
It was funny, he mused to himself, how warm it appeared to be when two bodies slid into one huge sleeping bag. Maybe that salesman wasn’t too far wrong after all.
Except… Doyle tutted. Bloody Bodie was once again Bloody Complaining. And yes, Doyle grimaced, he knew he was using up far too many capitals but this situation deserved it. So what was this new complaint?
“…sodding wrist watch, you git. Look, you’ve made my hand bleed.” Bodie held up his hand so Doyle could see.
“And just how am I have supposed to have made your hand bleed?” Doyle asked. “Nothing to do with me, mate.”
“Your watch caught me.” Bodie obviously wasn’t a happy bunny on this training exercise. Neither was he, but you didn’t hear him complain did you? Well, only about his Bloody Partner Bloody Complaining all the Bloody time.
“Aww diddums. For pity’s sake, Bodie, will you stop moaning? I’m not enjoying this any more than you are. It’s cold, dark, the middle of January and we are up here in sodding Northumberland stuck in a sleeping bag - which, may I add, was an expensive pressie (or at least part of it was a pressie) - and all I’ve heard is you grumbling. Give it a bloody rest, willya?”
With this, Doyle turned his back towards his unhappy partner, fluffed his pillow to his liking and slumped down. Woe betide if he grumbles again, thought Doyle miserably, I’ll give him what for.
Thankfully Doyle felt Bodie settle himself down. He was almost asleep when he heard him whisper about how Doyle’s gift ‘wasn’t bad with two in it’. He had to smile. His last thought was about how he’d make it up to him on their return.
BDDBBD
“Get out of my kitchen, Bodie, or I’ll thump you. And stop nicking the raisins, will you? I won’t have enough for the pudding.”
Back from their wild and windy training exercise at last, Doyle had thought of the perfect way to make up for the useless bloody sleeping bag. He grinned as he remembered just how Bodie had ripped it into shreds before launching all the fluff and other bits into a huge black bin at the depot. Bodie hadn’t realised how much stuff had clung to him and until he’d spotted himself in a mirror, couldn’t understand why Doyle had laughed himself silly.
Laughing himself, he’d brushed himself down and said, “Just like Father Christmas, eh?”
This had reminded Doyle just how little of Christmas they’d actually seen, and he’d decided that he and Bodie would have their own Christmas Day. He’d suggested this to his partner and was gratified as the little boy had come out in him, complete with a joyful grin.
“With pressies too, Doyle? Go on, say we’ll have pressies. And a pudding. Gotta have a proper Christmas pudding. My mother always used to make the best ever Christmas puddings. Always knew when it was near Christmas as you could smell the brandy from miles around.” There was no one who could look as puppy-dog eyed as Bodie when he put his mind to it. Doyle couldn’t resist.
“Go on then. But I refuse to put the decorations back up. It’s far too late for that, it’s practically February,” Doyle remembered saying firmly.
He looked around the fairy-light and tinsel-strewn living room as he pushed Bodie back in with a sigh. Bodie could twist him round his little finger with a solitary look.
He lost himself in making the pudding before calling Bodie back into the kitchen.
“Here.” He handed Bodie a silver sixpence. “You have to make a wish whilst stirring the mixture.” Their fingers touched briefly.
“I wish-“
“No! You can’t say it out loud, it won’t come true if you do,” Doyle quickly interrupted.
Bodie sighed and smiled gently. “I was only going to say I wish we could have done this on the correct day. 25th December.”
Doyle smiled back. He’d always recognised Bodie was the traditional sort. It was a shame they couldn’t indulge as they’d wanted this time round. Never mind, they had the here and now. He watched with interest as Bodie stirred the mixture a few times, his eyes firmly closed, before dropping the sixpence into the bowl. A couple more stirs and Bodie opened his eyes again.
“Your turn now, Ray.”
Doyle held the coin tightly. He knew what he was going to wish for was impossible, but even so he’d known that he would wish for it. Like wishing for eight draws on the pools or for Birmingham to win the First Division. He opened his hand and let his own coin drop into the bowl.
“Done. Right, Bodie, just going to put this in the steamer then I think we should have a drink before I check on the turkey. So bugger off back to the living room and sort out the drinks, there’s a good boy.” He patted him on the back and laughed as Bodie made his Neanderthal face and departed.
A good lad was Bodie. Best partner a bloke could have. Best friend too. Meant a lot to him to have Bodie as his best mate. He couldn’t have envisaged asking anyone else round here to do a late Christmas Day feast. Not even his own family were as close as Bodie was. Felt right, somehow. Doyle hoped it was the same for Bodie, but he knew Bodie knew where he stood in Doyle’s scheme of things.
Well, he mostly knew. Doyle smiled to himself as he put the pudding on to steam. Sometimes things were best left a mystery.
BDDBBDDB
“Gloves, Bodie? Why gloves?” Doyle stroked the soft yellow leather driving gloves. “I mean, have you ever seen me use them?”
Bodie shrugged. “Just because I’ve never seen you use them, doesn’t mean that you won’t in future, does it?” A flicker of disappointment was quickly smothered, so quickly Doyle wasn’t even certain he had seen it.
He knew he would use them, though, even if they did make him feel like he was driving a tractor. “True.” He smiled. “No, I will use them, mate. They are lovely. So soft.”
“It’s not your only pressie. Go on, open the other parcel,” Bodie was urging.
He picked up the gaudily printed package and shook it. “Well, I don’t think it’s a bomb. What is it?”
Bodie rolled his eyes. “It’s a bomb. For god’s sake, Doyle, open the thing. You’ll find out when you open it. Go on.”
Doyle felt for the edges of the paper, knowing that his carefulness in opening things drove his partner crazy. “Hmm, feels like a book. Hang on, just let me get the scissors to cut this sellotape off.”
“For God’s sake, Ray, just pull the paper off!”
Doyle winked at his partner. He’d wondered when the explosion would occur but it had happened sooner than he’d thought. As had the faint tinge of pink on Bodie’s cheeks. Strange, he’d never seen Bodie blush before. Curiouser and curiouser, as Alice was wont to say.
Of course, Bodie would deny it. He’d make up some excuse like the room was too hot, or the drink was - Ahh there, the pressie was almost open.
Doyle pulled out the book. Obviously hand-made; he recognised Bodie’s handwriting. His best handwriting too.
“Bodie and Doyle’s Big Adventures. Oh yes? What’s all this then?” He flicked carefully through it before glancing at his evermore sheepish looking partner. “Photos?”
Bodie shrugged. “Thought it’d be nice to compile some of our best bits into a book.”
Doyle stared at him, deep in thought, before looking once again at the book and the photos. Doyle remembered Anson being a sod with a camera, taking them unawares and he realised these must have been the ones.
He and Bodie curled over their respective typewriters, deep into finishing their reports. Bodie mock strangling him in their office. A proud Doyle looking on as Cowley had singled Bodie out and praised him after the Jackson operation. A back shot of him and Bodie looking at the notice board to see what their next job was, Bodie’s arm casually slung over his shoulders as it normally was.
Another showed Bodie clowning about with the new silver Capri. A typical pose generally performed by some scantily clad bird - except Bodie was covered from neck to toe as usual - but it was fundamentally the same pose. Bodie luxuriously lying on the bonnet, an exaggerated pout on his lips, one leg curled up. His tight black cords left little to the imagination.
Doyle felt his mouth go dry and his heart thump in his chest. He glanced briefly up at Bodie who himself was extremely interested, it would seem, in the cabinet in the corner of the room. He looked back down at the book in his hands.
Not just a shop bought book, oh no, that would have been too easy. No, Bodie, his best mate and partner had put together a collection of their best, funniest, nicest moments. He’d actually taken time and care to put this together and it was easily the nicest present he had had for a long, long time. Ever, in fact, if he thought about it.
Another flick and yet another photo. This time they were standing very close together, shoulders touching. Bodie had a soft smile on his face and was looking, well, inordinately proud, Doyle would have said. He himself had a soppy grin on his face. Looked like a wedding picture, he thought, and then blushed. He quickly looked at Bodie and felt his heart drop into his stomach.
Bodie was looking at him as if he was a piece of the most luscious chocolate cake in the world. Like he had to have him or die.
Oh. My. God. Bodie felt the same way.
Bodie felt the same way!
His eyes gave the game away. Those midnight blues were almost black and he was looking straight at Doyle.
Bloody hell!
Doyle couldn’t look away and Bodie was certainly holding his gaze. Trouble was, much as he wanted to, he wasn’t sure if his legs could hold him up enough to be able to wander across to where Bodie was.
He didn’t have to, he suddenly realised, as Bodie was there - right there - in front of him. And speaking.
“Whu-what?” he stammered, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering away furiously.
“Since when?” Bodie asked, and then made the mistake of touching one finger to his cheekbone - the one he’d broken years ago. He hoped Bodie wasn’t expecting a reply. That simple touch had taken away all his power of speech and he could only stare.
The kiss, when it came, was awkward and clumsy. Their noses bumped gently and their teeth clashed. A single strand of saliva connected them until Bodie licked his lips and swept it away. Despite - or maybe because of - all this, it was still the sweetest kiss Doyle had had for many a year, ever since Katie Jackson had kissed him at his fifth birthday party during a game of Postman’s Knock.
He knew he was gawping at Bodie with a daft smile on his face, probably identical to the one on Bodie’s face. Almost certainly resembling the one on that photo, actually, but he didn’t care. He leant forward to try another kiss.
This time it was soft and gentle, no clash of teeth marred the sweetness and only the lack of oxygen could have broken them apart.
“Must have been the Christmas pudding,” said Bodie, interrupting his musings.
“Eh? What does Christmas pudding have to do with…,” he hesitated, unable - unwilling, his mind supplied - to name what had just happened between them.
Bodie brought a hand up and caressed his cheek again. “Don’t you remember sunshine? The sixpences? The wishes?”
Doyle remembered. “I asked for you,” he began, “but I never expected it to happen so soon. Or ever, really.”
Another kiss, over too soon, and Bodie was speaking again. “Well, I didn’t actually ask for you - no, let me finish,” as Doyle tried to interrupt him, “I asked for you to be happy and for love to come into your life. That it’s me, who’s been wanting you for years, is just the icing on the cake. Merry Christmas, Raymond.”
Doyle wasn’t sure how they’d ended up in this place - some religious nuts would call it heaven, he wasn’t sure he even believed in heaven - but he gave silent thanks to someone that they had.
Even if it had taken an expensive, now definitely defunct, present!
BDDBBDDB
Title: A Festive Gift
Author: Probodie
Genre: Bodie/Doyle
Warnings: Only for fluff!!
Disclaimer: Sadly not mine, I just like to play occasionally with them
A/N: I would like to thank several people for prompts that enabled me to write this. I had intended to use all the prompts given. Sadly the fic got away from me before I could. However, thanks to siskiou, sc_fossil, hagsrus, tears_of_nienna, hambelandjemima, byslantedlight and heliophile_oxen for your ideas.
Beta by the wonderous londonronnie - all other mistakes and dangling wotevertheyaresits my own.
Merry Christmas and a Happy and Slashy New Year to you all x