bistokids - Discovered in a Christmas Cracker, January 3rd
Happy New Year, all. In well under the wire, for possibly the first time in my life, but it's so long since I've posted that everything looks strange and different, so I'm just crossing my fingers and hoping all the coding still works the same.
Bodie never saw the fist whistle through the air towards his head. Even the devastating impact as it crashed into the side of his face really only registered as pain at the same time as the jarring crunch of his arse hitting the deck. His arms instinctively flailed behind him, connecting with the floor in time to save his head from meeting the same fate as his now throbbing backside. Well, that could have gone better.
“And fucking stay away from me unless you want more of the same, you bloody poofter!” One final glare, then Ray spun on his heel and stalked out of the suddenly silent rest room, leaving Bodie gaping, dazed, at the inoffensive-looking sprig of mistletoe that had started it all.
Clambering shakily to his feet, he shook his head in a vain attempt to clear the bells ringing in his ears, before glaring defensively round at the other inhabitants of the room, who smirked unapologetically back. Murphy detached himself from the group, coming forward to dust Bodie down and offer a few words of comfort.
“Bodie,” he said, shaking his head. “You prat.”
“Me?” Bodie was outraged. “You’re the one who dared me to do it.”
“I dared you to kiss him under the mistletoe, yeah. Never said anything about you sweeping him off his feet and jamming your tongue down his throat, did I?”
Bodie’s mouth opened to voice a retort, but none sprang to mind and he closed it again, subsiding miserably as the enormity of the last couple of minutes hit him.
“Fucking hell, Murph,” he finally managed. “I’ve gone and done it this time, haven’t I?”
Murphy grimaced, clearly searching for something reassuring to say. “Nah mate,” he answered, his tone deeply unconvincing. “He’ll get over it. Got to, hasn’t he? He’s your partner, when all’s said and done.” He paused. “Tell you what, though, I must say I’m a bit surprised. Thought he was the enlightened type. I mean,” he continued, “I didn’t expect him to cop a feel or anything, but ‘poofter’ was a bit strong for our Doyle. Still. Fancy a cuppa? Cure anything, a nice cup of tea.”
He went off to fill the kettle, leaving Bodie to ponder. Now he came to think about it, while the punch wasn’t that much of a surprise from his quick-tempered partner, the outburst was definitely out of character. Doyle had always come across as sympathetic to quee- homosexuals, he mentally corrected himself. So much so that Bodie had occasionally suspected that he was...oh. OH.
And just as the light clicked on, a call came through from the inner sanctum.
“Bodie. Mr Cowley would like to see you straight away.”
Bugger.
++++++++++
“Sit.”
Bodie sat. Promptly. Cowley was not a happy bunny.
“I’ve just had an impromptu meeting with your partner, 3.7, although if he has his way he won’t be your partner much longer.”
What? “Sir?”
“You heard me, Bodie. 4.5 barged his way in here, without so much as a by your leave, and demanded I reassign him to a new partner. Apparently his current one is, and I quote, bloody impossible to live with.”
Bodie couldn’t move for a moment, blindsided by a completely unexpected wave of something akin to terror that crashed through him. He swallowed, forcing himself to get a grip.
“Um. What...” Despising the unsteadiness of his voice, he cleared his throat, tried again. “What did you say, sir?” There, that was better.
“Ach, man, what do you think? I turned him down.” Cowley stood, made his way round to Bodie’s side of the large desk. “I’ve no time for your wee spats in here, and I told him so in no uncertain terms.”
He stopped, close behind Bodie, who barely resisted the instinctive impulse to stand to attention.
“But I’ll tell you this, 3.7” he said softly, and the hairs on Bodie’s neck prickled. “You get out of my sight, right now, you find your partner, and you clear up whatever damn fool mess you’ve made. Or I promise you, your life won’t be worth the living. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes sir. Crystal clear.”
“Good. So what are you still doing sitting around here?”
Bodie made good his escape.
++++++++++
It took a while, but Bodie finally tracked Doyle down to the armoury office. The door was ajar, and Bodie could see his partner sitting hunched disconsolately on the desk, head bent, fingers systematically shredding a piece of paper that Bodie could only hope wasn’t some highly important document, as he very much doubted Doyle had paid enough attention to check.
About to push the door, he paused; suddenly realising he had absolutely no idea how to approach this encounter without risking getting clocked again. Closely following this came the more startling realisation that he was actually prepared to let Doyle have at it, if that would help. Still, best avoided if possible.
Acting on a sudden impulse, he unholstered his gun, set it on the floor and sent it skidding through the half-open door towards Doyle’s feet. Taking a deep breath, he followed it in, slowly, hands clear of his body, stopping a few feet into the room. And waited.
Doyle’s gaze rested on the gun on the floor, and he let out a small huff that might, on a better day, have been considered a laugh. His eyes, however, when he finally looked up, held no trace of amusement. No trace of much at all, actually. Bodie found himself wishing for the anger he had expected, anything rather than this dead, shuttered nothing.
“Fuck off, Bodie.”
Right.
“Sorry, mate, I can’t do that. Under strict instructions from The Cow to bring you back. He didn’t specify alive, but I got the impression he’d prefer it.”
Nothing. Doyle was completely still now, head bowed once more. Bodie fidgeted. Finally decided to take a couple of tentative steps forward.
That got Doyle’s attention. He stood so fast that Bodie had to physically check the urge to flinch. “Back off, Bodie, I’m warning you, or so help me...”
“Oh, come on, mate.” Bodie had never been much cop at walking on eggshells for long. “What do you want me to say? Look, I’m sorry, it was stupid. Seemed like a good idea at the time, you know how it is. Bad joke, that’s all.”
“Bad...” Bodie didn’t think he could remember Doyle ever being speechless before. He looked like he was torn between walking out, or knocking Bodie into the middle of next week and then walking out. Neither of which was exactly ideal. There was only one thing for it, then. Cards on the table time.
He turned away, moved back to the door and pushed it shut, then leant against it, taking a moment just to look at the man in front of him. Mentally crossing everything, he took a breath, then went for broke.
“The thing is, Doyle. Ray. It was just supposed to - to be a bit of fun, like. But then, it. I mean, I - oh bloody hell, Doyle.”
He couldn’t do this. Where was a squadron of angry Russian spies or a good nuclear explosion when you needed one? He was seriously considering putting a bullet through his own head just as a distraction, and cursing himself for his lack of foresight in giving up his gun, when he realised Doyle had moved in, closing the gap between them till they were practically sharing breath.
“Bodie.” And the way Doyle said his name, soft and dark with promise, would have had him on the floor if he wasn’t far too manly to buckle at the knees like some Victorian maiden, he reminded himself with effort.
“If you’ve got something to say, spit it out.”
Bodie searched Doyle’s face for some kind of clue, but his partner was giving nothing away - although he wasn’t actually looking murderous any more, or like someone had just strangled his kitten, so Bodie decided to see that as positive.
“All right, you asked for it.” He desperately wanted to turn away, to put a little space between them, but Doyle still had him backed up against the door and pushing him away seemed deeply counter-productive, given what he was trying to say. He settled for closing his eyes.
“I - liked it. Okay?”
“Sorry?” Bodie was fairly sure there was a touch of amusement lurking somewhere within his partner’s tone, but he wasn’t ready to open his eyes and check yet.
“I liked it.” It came out more calmly the second time. “Really liked it, if you must know. I wasn’t expecting to, it was never meant to be a big production, just a quick peck to win the fiver, but...”
“Hang about, fiver? What...?”
“BUT,” Bodie interrupted firmly. He wasn’t about to have his big romantic declaration, now he’d finally got it on track, ruined by Doyle going off on one about some irrelevant trivia.
“But once I’d started, I just - I dunno, got caught up. Didn’t want to stop. Seriously, you did me a favour clocking me one - we’d probably still be there now if I had my way.”
“Bodie, listen...”
“No, hang on just a mo, mate. Thing is, I - look, I want to do it again.”
“You want to...”
“Do it again. And, maybe more. With you. If...maybe.” Bodie’s rush of candour deserted him, and he tailed off. He could only wait now. At any rate, he thought, Doyle was still up close and personal, so at least he hadn’t done any permanent damage to their chances of ever speaking to each other again. Probably.
He flinched violently, eyes flying open, as something warm unexpectedly brushed his cheek. Doyle’s hand, as it turned out, and bloody hell, when did his reflexes get so sloppy that someone could do that without him feeling it coming?
Not someone, come to think, just Doyle. It struck Bodie then, for the first time, just how far in he’d already let his partner. He trusted him, more than he could ever remember trusting anyone. Suddenly, Doyle’s response mattered a lot more.
Doyle’s gaze met his, intent and searching, and Bodie allowed the wordless interrogation, confident that there was nothing to be detected in his own expression that wouldn’t further his cause. Sure enough, after a tense minute or so, the solemnity, the query in Doyle’s eyes gave way to a sparkle of unmistakeable mischief.
The hand still resting on his cheek moved downwards to grip his wrist firmly, the other wrist simultaneously receiving the same treatment, Doyle closed in a step and that was it. Bodie wasn’t going anywhere without a fight. Then, devastatingly, Doyle leant in the final couple of inches, lightly gripping Bodie’s lower lip between sharp white teeth, pressing in until the nip was just the right side of painful, and Bodie stopped breathing altogether. Knew he’d have to work on that at some point, but it just didn’t seem that important right now.
And then, without warning, Doyle released him and turned away.
“I’m sorry, mate. I can’t do this.”
His tone was soft, regretful. Bodie forced himself to keep still as Doyle moved away, telling himself sternly that this was still a huge step up from where they were when he came into the office, that at least now they could still be partners, he hoped so anyway, maybe it would take a bit of persuasion but he was sure, well, pretty sure...
“I can’t just give it up on a first date, now can I?” Doyle’s voice broke into his increasingly frantic train of thought, and it took him a moment to register what had actually been said. When it finally did, he froze utterly, eyes locked on his partner.
“Wh-what?” A less intelligent comeback than he’d ideally have liked, now he thought about it. Doyle grinned evilly.
“Honestly, Bodie. What kind of girl do you think I am?”
And just like that, Bodie was in safe territory, and he let himself smile back, predatory, satisfied to see just the tiniest flicker of uncertainty in his partner’s answering gaze. If Doyle wanted to play...
“Not to worry, sweetheart,” he murmured, pushing away from the door to stalk towards Doyle, who gulped and retreated hastily to the other side of the desk. “This isn’t a date, so it doesn’t count. Your virtue is safe. Now c’mere.” He made a lunging grab across the desk, connecting with thin air as Doyle stepped neatly out of range.
“No chance, sunshine. I expect to be wined and dined first. Can’t have you thinking I’m easy.”
“But you are easy.”
“Bodie...”
Bodie sighed. “Fair enough. Wining and dining it is, then. Chips at your place do you?”
Doyle considered. “With curry sauce?”
“Naturally with curry sauce. Can’t have you thinking I’m cheap.”
“But you are cheap.”
Bodie snorted. “I’ll have you know, sir, that I am renowned for my extravagance in matters of the heart.” Bending, he retrieved his gun, tucking it safely back in its holster. “Come on. Time to show Father that his favourite two sons are reunited.”
“Doesn’t that make us brothers?”
Bodie stopped in his tracks, horrified. “OK, forget that. Just let Cowley know we’re still partners, so he can cancel my extended training course with Macklin or whatever gruesome torture he was dreaming up for me. Then, my lad, it’s chips for you, with curry sauce, and a pickled egg. See? Impressed now, aren’t you?” He smirked.
“Oh, bowled over. Running all the way.”
As they left the office, Doyle first, Bodie enjoying the view, a thought occurred.
“Eh, Doyle. When do you give it up then?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Doyle tossed over his shoulder. “Shortly after the first date, I should think. If you play your cards right.”
Bodie smiled. “Perfect.”
Title: Bad Joke Punchline
Author: Bistokids
Slash or Gen: Slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit/Hatstand: Yes please
Disclaimer: Not mine, not for profit, all in fun.
Notes: The prompt was ‘bad joke’. Which just shows once again how abysmal I am at coming up with titles. Edit: Thought of a better one! Still not brilliant, but it's all progress. :)
Bodie never saw the fist whistle through the air towards his head. Even the devastating impact as it crashed into the side of his face really only registered as pain at the same time as the jarring crunch of his arse hitting the deck. His arms instinctively flailed behind him, connecting with the floor in time to save his head from meeting the same fate as his now throbbing backside. Well, that could have gone better.
“And fucking stay away from me unless you want more of the same, you bloody poofter!” One final glare, then Ray spun on his heel and stalked out of the suddenly silent rest room, leaving Bodie gaping, dazed, at the inoffensive-looking sprig of mistletoe that had started it all.
Clambering shakily to his feet, he shook his head in a vain attempt to clear the bells ringing in his ears, before glaring defensively round at the other inhabitants of the room, who smirked unapologetically back. Murphy detached himself from the group, coming forward to dust Bodie down and offer a few words of comfort.
“Bodie,” he said, shaking his head. “You prat.”
“Me?” Bodie was outraged. “You’re the one who dared me to do it.”
“I dared you to kiss him under the mistletoe, yeah. Never said anything about you sweeping him off his feet and jamming your tongue down his throat, did I?”
Bodie’s mouth opened to voice a retort, but none sprang to mind and he closed it again, subsiding miserably as the enormity of the last couple of minutes hit him.
“Fucking hell, Murph,” he finally managed. “I’ve gone and done it this time, haven’t I?”
Murphy grimaced, clearly searching for something reassuring to say. “Nah mate,” he answered, his tone deeply unconvincing. “He’ll get over it. Got to, hasn’t he? He’s your partner, when all’s said and done.” He paused. “Tell you what, though, I must say I’m a bit surprised. Thought he was the enlightened type. I mean,” he continued, “I didn’t expect him to cop a feel or anything, but ‘poofter’ was a bit strong for our Doyle. Still. Fancy a cuppa? Cure anything, a nice cup of tea.”
He went off to fill the kettle, leaving Bodie to ponder. Now he came to think about it, while the punch wasn’t that much of a surprise from his quick-tempered partner, the outburst was definitely out of character. Doyle had always come across as sympathetic to quee- homosexuals, he mentally corrected himself. So much so that Bodie had occasionally suspected that he was...oh. OH.
And just as the light clicked on, a call came through from the inner sanctum.
“Bodie. Mr Cowley would like to see you straight away.”
Bugger.
++++++++++
“Sit.”
Bodie sat. Promptly. Cowley was not a happy bunny.
“I’ve just had an impromptu meeting with your partner, 3.7, although if he has his way he won’t be your partner much longer.”
What? “Sir?”
“You heard me, Bodie. 4.5 barged his way in here, without so much as a by your leave, and demanded I reassign him to a new partner. Apparently his current one is, and I quote, bloody impossible to live with.”
Bodie couldn’t move for a moment, blindsided by a completely unexpected wave of something akin to terror that crashed through him. He swallowed, forcing himself to get a grip.
“Um. What...” Despising the unsteadiness of his voice, he cleared his throat, tried again. “What did you say, sir?” There, that was better.
“Ach, man, what do you think? I turned him down.” Cowley stood, made his way round to Bodie’s side of the large desk. “I’ve no time for your wee spats in here, and I told him so in no uncertain terms.”
He stopped, close behind Bodie, who barely resisted the instinctive impulse to stand to attention.
“But I’ll tell you this, 3.7” he said softly, and the hairs on Bodie’s neck prickled. “You get out of my sight, right now, you find your partner, and you clear up whatever damn fool mess you’ve made. Or I promise you, your life won’t be worth the living. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes sir. Crystal clear.”
“Good. So what are you still doing sitting around here?”
Bodie made good his escape.
++++++++++
It took a while, but Bodie finally tracked Doyle down to the armoury office. The door was ajar, and Bodie could see his partner sitting hunched disconsolately on the desk, head bent, fingers systematically shredding a piece of paper that Bodie could only hope wasn’t some highly important document, as he very much doubted Doyle had paid enough attention to check.
About to push the door, he paused; suddenly realising he had absolutely no idea how to approach this encounter without risking getting clocked again. Closely following this came the more startling realisation that he was actually prepared to let Doyle have at it, if that would help. Still, best avoided if possible.
Acting on a sudden impulse, he unholstered his gun, set it on the floor and sent it skidding through the half-open door towards Doyle’s feet. Taking a deep breath, he followed it in, slowly, hands clear of his body, stopping a few feet into the room. And waited.
Doyle’s gaze rested on the gun on the floor, and he let out a small huff that might, on a better day, have been considered a laugh. His eyes, however, when he finally looked up, held no trace of amusement. No trace of much at all, actually. Bodie found himself wishing for the anger he had expected, anything rather than this dead, shuttered nothing.
“Fuck off, Bodie.”
Right.
“Sorry, mate, I can’t do that. Under strict instructions from The Cow to bring you back. He didn’t specify alive, but I got the impression he’d prefer it.”
Nothing. Doyle was completely still now, head bowed once more. Bodie fidgeted. Finally decided to take a couple of tentative steps forward.
That got Doyle’s attention. He stood so fast that Bodie had to physically check the urge to flinch. “Back off, Bodie, I’m warning you, or so help me...”
“Oh, come on, mate.” Bodie had never been much cop at walking on eggshells for long. “What do you want me to say? Look, I’m sorry, it was stupid. Seemed like a good idea at the time, you know how it is. Bad joke, that’s all.”
“Bad...” Bodie didn’t think he could remember Doyle ever being speechless before. He looked like he was torn between walking out, or knocking Bodie into the middle of next week and then walking out. Neither of which was exactly ideal. There was only one thing for it, then. Cards on the table time.
He turned away, moved back to the door and pushed it shut, then leant against it, taking a moment just to look at the man in front of him. Mentally crossing everything, he took a breath, then went for broke.
“The thing is, Doyle. Ray. It was just supposed to - to be a bit of fun, like. But then, it. I mean, I - oh bloody hell, Doyle.”
He couldn’t do this. Where was a squadron of angry Russian spies or a good nuclear explosion when you needed one? He was seriously considering putting a bullet through his own head just as a distraction, and cursing himself for his lack of foresight in giving up his gun, when he realised Doyle had moved in, closing the gap between them till they were practically sharing breath.
“Bodie.” And the way Doyle said his name, soft and dark with promise, would have had him on the floor if he wasn’t far too manly to buckle at the knees like some Victorian maiden, he reminded himself with effort.
“If you’ve got something to say, spit it out.”
Bodie searched Doyle’s face for some kind of clue, but his partner was giving nothing away - although he wasn’t actually looking murderous any more, or like someone had just strangled his kitten, so Bodie decided to see that as positive.
“All right, you asked for it.” He desperately wanted to turn away, to put a little space between them, but Doyle still had him backed up against the door and pushing him away seemed deeply counter-productive, given what he was trying to say. He settled for closing his eyes.
“I - liked it. Okay?”
“Sorry?” Bodie was fairly sure there was a touch of amusement lurking somewhere within his partner’s tone, but he wasn’t ready to open his eyes and check yet.
“I liked it.” It came out more calmly the second time. “Really liked it, if you must know. I wasn’t expecting to, it was never meant to be a big production, just a quick peck to win the fiver, but...”
“Hang about, fiver? What...?”
“BUT,” Bodie interrupted firmly. He wasn’t about to have his big romantic declaration, now he’d finally got it on track, ruined by Doyle going off on one about some irrelevant trivia.
“But once I’d started, I just - I dunno, got caught up. Didn’t want to stop. Seriously, you did me a favour clocking me one - we’d probably still be there now if I had my way.”
“Bodie, listen...”
“No, hang on just a mo, mate. Thing is, I - look, I want to do it again.”
“You want to...”
“Do it again. And, maybe more. With you. If...maybe.” Bodie’s rush of candour deserted him, and he tailed off. He could only wait now. At any rate, he thought, Doyle was still up close and personal, so at least he hadn’t done any permanent damage to their chances of ever speaking to each other again. Probably.
He flinched violently, eyes flying open, as something warm unexpectedly brushed his cheek. Doyle’s hand, as it turned out, and bloody hell, when did his reflexes get so sloppy that someone could do that without him feeling it coming?
Not someone, come to think, just Doyle. It struck Bodie then, for the first time, just how far in he’d already let his partner. He trusted him, more than he could ever remember trusting anyone. Suddenly, Doyle’s response mattered a lot more.
Doyle’s gaze met his, intent and searching, and Bodie allowed the wordless interrogation, confident that there was nothing to be detected in his own expression that wouldn’t further his cause. Sure enough, after a tense minute or so, the solemnity, the query in Doyle’s eyes gave way to a sparkle of unmistakeable mischief.
The hand still resting on his cheek moved downwards to grip his wrist firmly, the other wrist simultaneously receiving the same treatment, Doyle closed in a step and that was it. Bodie wasn’t going anywhere without a fight. Then, devastatingly, Doyle leant in the final couple of inches, lightly gripping Bodie’s lower lip between sharp white teeth, pressing in until the nip was just the right side of painful, and Bodie stopped breathing altogether. Knew he’d have to work on that at some point, but it just didn’t seem that important right now.
And then, without warning, Doyle released him and turned away.
“I’m sorry, mate. I can’t do this.”
His tone was soft, regretful. Bodie forced himself to keep still as Doyle moved away, telling himself sternly that this was still a huge step up from where they were when he came into the office, that at least now they could still be partners, he hoped so anyway, maybe it would take a bit of persuasion but he was sure, well, pretty sure...
“I can’t just give it up on a first date, now can I?” Doyle’s voice broke into his increasingly frantic train of thought, and it took him a moment to register what had actually been said. When it finally did, he froze utterly, eyes locked on his partner.
“Wh-what?” A less intelligent comeback than he’d ideally have liked, now he thought about it. Doyle grinned evilly.
“Honestly, Bodie. What kind of girl do you think I am?”
And just like that, Bodie was in safe territory, and he let himself smile back, predatory, satisfied to see just the tiniest flicker of uncertainty in his partner’s answering gaze. If Doyle wanted to play...
“Not to worry, sweetheart,” he murmured, pushing away from the door to stalk towards Doyle, who gulped and retreated hastily to the other side of the desk. “This isn’t a date, so it doesn’t count. Your virtue is safe. Now c’mere.” He made a lunging grab across the desk, connecting with thin air as Doyle stepped neatly out of range.
“No chance, sunshine. I expect to be wined and dined first. Can’t have you thinking I’m easy.”
“But you are easy.”
“Bodie...”
Bodie sighed. “Fair enough. Wining and dining it is, then. Chips at your place do you?”
Doyle considered. “With curry sauce?”
“Naturally with curry sauce. Can’t have you thinking I’m cheap.”
“But you are cheap.”
Bodie snorted. “I’ll have you know, sir, that I am renowned for my extravagance in matters of the heart.” Bending, he retrieved his gun, tucking it safely back in its holster. “Come on. Time to show Father that his favourite two sons are reunited.”
“Doesn’t that make us brothers?”
Bodie stopped in his tracks, horrified. “OK, forget that. Just let Cowley know we’re still partners, so he can cancel my extended training course with Macklin or whatever gruesome torture he was dreaming up for me. Then, my lad, it’s chips for you, with curry sauce, and a pickled egg. See? Impressed now, aren’t you?” He smirked.
“Oh, bowled over. Running all the way.”
As they left the office, Doyle first, Bodie enjoying the view, a thought occurred.
“Eh, Doyle. When do you give it up then?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Doyle tossed over his shoulder. “Shortly after the first date, I should think. If you play your cards right.”
Bodie smiled. “Perfect.”
Title: Bad Joke Punchline
Author: Bistokids
Slash or Gen: Slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit/Hatstand: Yes please
Disclaimer: Not mine, not for profit, all in fun.
Notes: The prompt was ‘bad joke’. Which just shows once again how abysmal I am at coming up with titles. Edit: Thought of a better one! Still not brilliant, but it's all progress. :)