Midday
This is posted on behalf of the rather fraught foreverfoxcat who apologises that this wasn't posted at midday. I'm just so looking forward to it I don't mind - it's here! Hooray!
Doyle lowered himself onto the sofa and groaned, his head still pounding from the rhythm of the drive back to Bodie's flat. He raised his hand to touch the egg shaped bump on his forehead, wincing when his fingers brushed across the tender flesh. He looked up and grinned sheepishly as Bodie appeared in the doorway, dropping his keys on the table and hovering uncertainly by the tv set.
“You look like shit.”
Doyle snorted and leaned back to rest his head on the arm of the sofa. He wiped his hand across his eyes and sighed. “Yeah well, you try having eighteen stone of fat and muscle punch you right in the face and then chuck you down a flight of stairs.” Doyle ran his fingers carefully over his nose and cheekbone, grateful that the aching, dull pain was at least partly numbed by the drugs they'd given him at the hospital. “I swear, when I get my hands on that bastard I'll rip his bloody balls off. That .38 you put in his kneecap is the least of his worries.”
Bodie folded his arms and raised a crooked eyebrow. “You've got concussion, mate. The only thing you'll be doing for the rest of the day is lying down and taking it easy.”
Doyle scowled. “Possible concussion, they said. And I don't need a bleeding nursemaid, thank you very much.”
“You always need a nursemaid, Doyle.” Bodie shook his head and crossed the room, perching on the edge of coffee table in front of the sofa. He leaned forward and nudged Doyle's elbow with his hand. “Remember the dislocated shoulder on the Evans Op? Or that small bout of pneumonia after the Wilson fiasco?” Bodie stood up and reached for the blanket draped over the edge of the sofa. “Not to mention the groin strain you got chasing down that bent attache from the Syrian ambassador's office last month.”
Doyle pulled the blanket out of Bodie's hand and tugged it over his shoulders. “Alright, alright. You've made your point. We've had a run of bad luck lately, that's all.”
“Mmmmm.” Bodie fiddled absently with the edge of the blanket, tucking it tightly around Doyle's legs. He frowned down at the paisley pattern, his fingers playing with the frayed fabric. “It's just one thing after another, isn't it? Year after year.” His hand came to rest on Doyle's knee, his thumb stroking backwards and forwards over the thick blanket.
Doyle nodded and closed his eyes for a moment, his stomach lurching strangely at the feel of Bodie's hand rubbing comforting circles on his leg. He drew a long breath and peered over at Bodie, who was still staring blankly down at the ugly blanket. “You know what the worst part of this is?”
Bodie cocked his head to one side. “You mean apart from the concussion, the complete collapse of the obbo, the betrayal of our key witness and the 300 semi-automatic weapons that are making their way past border control as we speak?”
Doyle shuffled round on the sofa so that he was lying on his side, snuggling down further underneath the blanket. “Well yeah, apart from that. The worst part is that Eddie fucking Dawes completely ruined my new year.” He looked up at Bodie. “I had big plans, you know. I thought I was at least going to get a good snog and a handjob to ring the new year in.”
Bodie's fingers stilled, his hand resting warm and heavy on Doyle's thigh. “Really?”
“Yeah.” Doyle took a deep breath. “You know what they say - start the new year as you mean to go on.” He pulled the blanket up over his chin. “It would have been nice though, wouldn't it? To have someone to grope at the stroke of midnight. Someone special, I mean. Someone you loved.”
Bodie blinked down at him. “Bloody hell, you are concussed.”
“Very possibly. Have you seen the size of Eddie Dawes' fists?” Doyle propped himself up slightly on one of the cushions, wincing again when the room lurched briefly around him. “I still think it would be nice though - copping a quick feel when the clock strikes twelve, being with someone who wants to be with you just as much as you want to be with them. Seeing the new year in together.”
Bodie's eyes flickered over to the clock on the mantelpiece, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “We-ell, you just might be in luck, sunshine.” Doyle followed Bodie's gaze, his eyes widening when he saw the minute hand on the clock ticking slowly towards twelve o'clock. He looked back up at Bodie. “That's twelve noon, you idiot. It's not the same.”
Bodie shrugged and shifted from his position on the coffee table, kneeling down on the carpet so that his face was level with Doyle's. He reached out to play with a strand of Doyle's hair, his fingers ghosting lightly over the bruise on Doyle's forehead. “After the day you've had, I'd take what you can get when you can get it, mate.”
Doyle nodded once, his eyes fixed on Bodie's face as he leaned in closer, his breath fanning across Doyle's cheek and eyelashes. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth, waiting for the clock to hit twelve and for their lips to connect.
Bodie was right. Midnight or midday, it didn't matter. This was what he wanted. Not just anyone to kiss, but Bodie.
Doyle cursed out loud when the RT on the coffee table crackled into life. Bodie's head snapped back as if he'd been stung, and he snatched the radio from the table, disappearing into the kitchen as Doyle sank back against the cushions. Scowling up at the ceiling, he counted slowly to ten before calling out to Bodie. “Any news, then?”
Bodie appeared in the doorway, his holster already over his shoulder. “HQ. Dawes is awake. The bullet's out and he's going to be fine. The other two gunmen didn't make it. Cowley wants me over at the hospital to find out why his number one snitch decided to turn the tables on us.” He pulled his jacket on and picked up his keys. “You take it easy, mate. I'll be back soon. And remember, I've got someone from HQ calling you every half hour. Make sure you answer, or the entire B squad will be beating down the door to get to you.”
Doyle waved a hand vaguely in Bodie's direction. “Yeah, alright.” He watched in silence as Bodie gave a shrug of apology and disappeared out the door.
“Bloody nursemaid.” Doyle punched one of the cushions underneath his head, flattening it out as much as he could to get comfortable. Fucking Eddie Dawes. Even with a bullet in him, he was nothing but a complete and utter gooseberry.
TRAILER
Title: Midday (2 of 3)
Author: Foxcat
Slash B/D
Disclaimer: I don't own anything and this is all just for fun
Archive: Proslib yes, Circuit no
Doyle lowered himself onto the sofa and groaned, his head still pounding from the rhythm of the drive back to Bodie's flat. He raised his hand to touch the egg shaped bump on his forehead, wincing when his fingers brushed across the tender flesh. He looked up and grinned sheepishly as Bodie appeared in the doorway, dropping his keys on the table and hovering uncertainly by the tv set.
“You look like shit.”
Doyle snorted and leaned back to rest his head on the arm of the sofa. He wiped his hand across his eyes and sighed. “Yeah well, you try having eighteen stone of fat and muscle punch you right in the face and then chuck you down a flight of stairs.” Doyle ran his fingers carefully over his nose and cheekbone, grateful that the aching, dull pain was at least partly numbed by the drugs they'd given him at the hospital. “I swear, when I get my hands on that bastard I'll rip his bloody balls off. That .38 you put in his kneecap is the least of his worries.”
Bodie folded his arms and raised a crooked eyebrow. “You've got concussion, mate. The only thing you'll be doing for the rest of the day is lying down and taking it easy.”
Doyle scowled. “Possible concussion, they said. And I don't need a bleeding nursemaid, thank you very much.”
“You always need a nursemaid, Doyle.” Bodie shook his head and crossed the room, perching on the edge of coffee table in front of the sofa. He leaned forward and nudged Doyle's elbow with his hand. “Remember the dislocated shoulder on the Evans Op? Or that small bout of pneumonia after the Wilson fiasco?” Bodie stood up and reached for the blanket draped over the edge of the sofa. “Not to mention the groin strain you got chasing down that bent attache from the Syrian ambassador's office last month.”
Doyle pulled the blanket out of Bodie's hand and tugged it over his shoulders. “Alright, alright. You've made your point. We've had a run of bad luck lately, that's all.”
“Mmmmm.” Bodie fiddled absently with the edge of the blanket, tucking it tightly around Doyle's legs. He frowned down at the paisley pattern, his fingers playing with the frayed fabric. “It's just one thing after another, isn't it? Year after year.” His hand came to rest on Doyle's knee, his thumb stroking backwards and forwards over the thick blanket.
Doyle nodded and closed his eyes for a moment, his stomach lurching strangely at the feel of Bodie's hand rubbing comforting circles on his leg. He drew a long breath and peered over at Bodie, who was still staring blankly down at the ugly blanket. “You know what the worst part of this is?”
Bodie cocked his head to one side. “You mean apart from the concussion, the complete collapse of the obbo, the betrayal of our key witness and the 300 semi-automatic weapons that are making their way past border control as we speak?”
Doyle shuffled round on the sofa so that he was lying on his side, snuggling down further underneath the blanket. “Well yeah, apart from that. The worst part is that Eddie fucking Dawes completely ruined my new year.” He looked up at Bodie. “I had big plans, you know. I thought I was at least going to get a good snog and a handjob to ring the new year in.”
Bodie's fingers stilled, his hand resting warm and heavy on Doyle's thigh. “Really?”
“Yeah.” Doyle took a deep breath. “You know what they say - start the new year as you mean to go on.” He pulled the blanket up over his chin. “It would have been nice though, wouldn't it? To have someone to grope at the stroke of midnight. Someone special, I mean. Someone you loved.”
Bodie blinked down at him. “Bloody hell, you are concussed.”
“Very possibly. Have you seen the size of Eddie Dawes' fists?” Doyle propped himself up slightly on one of the cushions, wincing again when the room lurched briefly around him. “I still think it would be nice though - copping a quick feel when the clock strikes twelve, being with someone who wants to be with you just as much as you want to be with them. Seeing the new year in together.”
Bodie's eyes flickered over to the clock on the mantelpiece, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “We-ell, you just might be in luck, sunshine.” Doyle followed Bodie's gaze, his eyes widening when he saw the minute hand on the clock ticking slowly towards twelve o'clock. He looked back up at Bodie. “That's twelve noon, you idiot. It's not the same.”
Bodie shrugged and shifted from his position on the coffee table, kneeling down on the carpet so that his face was level with Doyle's. He reached out to play with a strand of Doyle's hair, his fingers ghosting lightly over the bruise on Doyle's forehead. “After the day you've had, I'd take what you can get when you can get it, mate.”
Doyle nodded once, his eyes fixed on Bodie's face as he leaned in closer, his breath fanning across Doyle's cheek and eyelashes. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth, waiting for the clock to hit twelve and for their lips to connect.
Bodie was right. Midnight or midday, it didn't matter. This was what he wanted. Not just anyone to kiss, but Bodie.
Doyle cursed out loud when the RT on the coffee table crackled into life. Bodie's head snapped back as if he'd been stung, and he snatched the radio from the table, disappearing into the kitchen as Doyle sank back against the cushions. Scowling up at the ceiling, he counted slowly to ten before calling out to Bodie. “Any news, then?”
Bodie appeared in the doorway, his holster already over his shoulder. “HQ. Dawes is awake. The bullet's out and he's going to be fine. The other two gunmen didn't make it. Cowley wants me over at the hospital to find out why his number one snitch decided to turn the tables on us.” He pulled his jacket on and picked up his keys. “You take it easy, mate. I'll be back soon. And remember, I've got someone from HQ calling you every half hour. Make sure you answer, or the entire B squad will be beating down the door to get to you.”
Doyle waved a hand vaguely in Bodie's direction. “Yeah, alright.” He watched in silence as Bodie gave a shrug of apology and disappeared out the door.
“Bloody nursemaid.” Doyle punched one of the cushions underneath his head, flattening it out as much as he could to get comfortable. Fucking Eddie Dawes. Even with a bullet in him, he was nothing but a complete and utter gooseberry.
TRAILER
Title: Midday (2 of 3)
Author: Foxcat
Slash B/D
Disclaimer: I don't own anything and this is all just for fun
Archive: Proslib yes, Circuit no