Fallout (part 3) by cornishcat
Doyle came across her sitting on a bench near the car park, dabbing at her nose with a soggy tissue.
“Come on, love. Let’s go and get a drink and you can tell me what he’s done now.”
Ali picked up her handbag and they strolled, arm in arm, back into the hospital and down the long corridor. As usual, the visitor’s canteen was very busy but she was able to grab a small table when it became vacant whilst he queued up at the counter.
They sat quietly for a while, sipping their coffee, before she felt composed enough to tell him that Bodie was threatening to leave London and had even had the gall to suggest she and Ray got together.
“Bloody cantankerous… he’s got his kecks in a twist over somethin’ and, typical of Bodie, he’ll have got it all wrong. I’ve known you a long time, Ali and I never would have put you down as hurtful. He said you thought he was second best. What did you actually say to him in the church?”
“What? No! No, he’d never be second best. It’s me, I don’t want him to think he’s having to settle for second best because it’s you he really wants. He’s loved you for a very long time, Ray - I think he always will. You’d only have to click your fingers and he’d be all over you like a rash. I used to be so sure - until I realised you really loved him as well, you just hadn’t accepted it.”
“He certainly doesn’t want me now. He might have done once but he’s changed his mind.”
“Don’t be thick, Ray. He’s leaving the squad because he thinks he can’t continue to work with you the way he feels. He’s angry - with you, me, Cowley, with life itself. Tell him how you feel - but do it soon, before it’s too late. I wouldn’t put it past him not to do something stupid.”
*****
Doyle was surprised to find Bodie sitting up in a high-backed chair when he next visited. He was now wearing a white T-shirt and blue pyjama bottoms, which hid far too much of the bare flesh that he’d been feasting his eyes on recently.
“My God Bodie, you’re looking almost human again. Still got a long way to go to reach tall, dark and incredibly handsome, though,” he said, covering his disappointment.
“Har, bloody, har!”
He felt Bodie’s eyes follow him as he wandered slowly across the room and made a conscious effort not to wince when he sat down on the side of the vacated bed.
“Why are you limping, Doyle?”
Eyes like a bloody a hawk, does Bodie… when he’s awake.
“Oh…um, I tweaked my back,” he replied, absently picking up and flicking through the Biking magazine he’d brought in the day before.
“Doing something stupid, I’ll bet.”
“Hey, have you had a decko at the new Suzuki? Wouldn’t mind a quick whirl round the block on that beauty.” He held up the article for Bodie to see.
“Doyle! Were you doing something stupid?”
“Sorry, didn’t realise it was a question. Thought you were being all rhetorical or what not.”
“Well?”
“Yeah.” But then Doyle’s mind was taken back to the warehouse and he relived the intense fear he’d felt there. “No, I was doing something important… something essential.”
“Yeah? Listen mate, just be careful out there. You shouldn’t be working solo; you need someone watching your back…” Bodie trailed off, realising that would never be his role in life again.
“Lucky I’m not working at the moment then,” Doyle confessed but then followed up with the lie that he had taken some overdue leave.
“Ah, that explains why your ugly mug keeps turning up here, then.”
They sat in silence for a while; Doyle pretending to be interested in the magazine and Bodie pretending to sleep. This wasn’t going to accomplish anything, Doyle admitted to himself and realised he would have to be the one to start a meaningful conversation.
“Have they said when you’ll be sprung from here, yet?” he asked.
Bodie opened one eye and stared at him before nonchalantly swinging his arm gently from side to side in the sling. “Well, not today, obviously.”
“Obviously not today you cretin but haven’t they given you any indication?” Doyle persisted.
“No. This is the first time they’ve allowed me to get up and sit out of bed so don’t think they’ll be too keen on me riding me bike just yet, d’you?”
“Okay, okay, so you’ve still got a bit of recovery to go through but have you made any plans for when you’re back on your feet?”
“What are you getting at, 4.5?” Bodie asked suspiciously.
“What do you mean? I’m just interested.”
“Then I’ll be sure to tell you as soon as I’ve decided.”
Well, that went well, conceded Doyle. Why was it so bloody hard talking to Bodie about their futures?
*****
“I had another visitor earlier,” Bodie informed Ray when he called in again the following day.
“Oh yeah, and who was that then?” For some strange reason, the possible answers worried him.
“Dr Ross.”
“Oh,” Doyle said on a sigh of relief. “What did the Ice Queen want?”
“To start my psych evaluation.”
“Hah, hard luck mate but you knew it would happen sometime, didn’t you?”
“We had an interesting little chat. She told me I owe you my life - you and Murph. Is that true?” Bodie was looking at him with a strange expression.
“You’re my partner. Of course I’d save your sorry arse. You’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”
Bodie’s face was still unreadable but he admitted, “I don’t remember much. Thought at first I might have been dreamin’ when I imagined you talking to me but you were actually there in the warehouse, like?”
“Yeah, it was me prattling away. You weren’t in the mood for a two-way debate so I had to yak for the pair of us.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Ah, you know, the usual crap you have to come up with to help pass the time.”
“So, nothing significant, then?”
Doyle could see disappointment etched across Bodie’s face and relented. “What did you think I said?” he asked quietly.
“That you were scared.”
“Scared? No, I was terrified!” Doyle corrected. He took a deep breath before continuing. “Terrified that you were going to die…”
Just go for it, you coward! He’ll leave you if you don’t.
“… and I wanted to tell you stuff. I’ve been a right pillock, you know. Yeah mate, I told you important stuff that I should have told you months ago. That I was scared what my feelings for you would do to me, to us and in the end, not saying anything at all cost me your friendship.”
“I wasn’t sure I actually heard you or if it was just wishful thinking. So, you do love me then?” Trust Bodie to go straight for the jugular.
Crunch time.
“Yeah.” Doyle whispered. “Yeah, I bloody love you.”
Bodie looked at him affectionately. “You know Ray, pillock doesn’t come close to describing what you really are.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” He suddenly realised Bodie had actually used his first name and he couldn’t remember when he’d last done that.
“I don’t know what I’m to do with you but as I can’t manage anything at the moment,” Bodie nodded tiredly towards his left arm. “I don’t have to decide what you deserve just yet. Are you still scared?”
“Yes. No.”
“Well, that’s clear enough.”
“Yes, I’m still scared because I’m not the only complete pillock here, you know. But no, I’m not scared because I don’t care what it makes us.” He looked up and saw that Bodie had closed his eyes and wondered if he gone too far, said too much. “You look knackered, mate. Second time out of bed and you still can’t even manage a couple of hours. D’you want me to help you get back in?”
“No! No, press the bell, would you? The nurses will be a safer option all round.” And with that, Bodie smiled at him for the first time since… God, he couldn’t remember when that had last happened, either.
*****
Doyle was a bit concerned when he next visited and found Bodie’s side room empty but he convinced himself he’d perhaps gone for more x-rays and he hadn’t just done a runner. He was therefore really chuffed when the man himself walked in ten minutes later, unencumbered by any drip stands.
“Come on mate, sit down before you fall down. Where’ve you been, you look dreadful.” Doyle vacated the chair but Bodie ignored it completely and carefully lowered himself back onto his bed, heaving a sigh of pure relief as he lay down.
“Mr Bodie!” The staff nurse followed him in briskly. “Just because Mr Taylor said we could lower your arm and apply an ordinary sling doesn’t mean you can start running around the ward.”
“I wanted to use the bog… with a bit of privacy, if you know what I mean?” he said indignantly.
“We would have brought you a commode, or even a wheelchair, if you’d only asked. Does that mean you’ve had your bowels opened then?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, get me out of here, Doyle,” he pleaded.
“Yes or no, Mr Bodie? It’s a simple question and you can stop Mr Fairfax pestering us during every ward round,” the nurse demanded, obviously frustrated when she wasn’t able to give the consultant the answer he wanted.
“Yes, I’ve had my bowels opened. OK?”
“That’s very good. Can I get you some pain relief? You look a little green around the gills.”
“No thank you. I’ll just rest here for a bit.”
“Then please, use the bell in future. Now, I’ll just go and get some supplies so I can redress your feet. Have you seen the mess you’ve made of your bandages? You’d think I didn’t have enough to do already.”
Doyle watched her leave, admiring the way she stood no nonsense from the awkward sod, treating him more like a sulky teenager rather than the hardened CI5 agent that he actually was. He turned away to hide his smile because there was nothing to be gained from winding him up any further, especially when he’d come in today intending to find some more answers of his own. “Are you going to pout for long or can we talk?” he asked.
Despite Bodie not replying, he decided to push on regardless.
“I’ve been chatting to Ali. She’s a lovely girl but far too good for you, mind. Be nice to her when she visits. She still loves you but she’s helped me get things straight - clearer in my head. She wants you to be happy but realises that you wouldn’t be that, with her. That’s why she called the wedding off.”
“She was wrong; I would have been but she didn’t give me a chance to prove it to her.” Frustration was very evident in Bodie’s voice.
“Are you saying you’re sorry the wedding didn’t go ahead?” he pursued, needing to know the truth but fearing the answer.
“Yes. No.”
“This indecisiveness is becoming contagious,” Doyle said with a small smile.
“Yes, because I would have made it work and Ali wouldn’t have been hurt. But no, not if I finally get what I want.”
“And what’s that, then?”
“You.”
“You will. You have,” Doyle reassured quietly. “I wish we were somewhere else right now because I want to show you, convince you.”
“Tell me again then, how you feel,” Bodie requested, a little uncertainly.
“I love you.”
The door swung open again and the nurse banged in with her dressing trolley before proceeding to wash her hands in preparation for the additional and totally avoidable procedure she was being forced to undertake.
*****
He had been home less than four hours before they both realised it wasn’t going to work as well as they’d planned.
“Do you want a cuppa with your tablets?” Doyle asked.
“No.”
“No what? You just want water, then?”
“No, I don’t want a cuppa and I don’t want the bastard tablets!”
“Come on mate. The doctor said…”
“The doctor said what? What has he been saying to you that he didn’t discuss with me first? I’m sick of this; everyone having secretive little conferences behind my back. I’ll decide when, if, I take my fucking pills.”
“Listen mate, if you don’t want a long stay in the Scrubs then you’re going to have to work with me here.”
“I don’t have to bloody do anything.”
Doyle stood and stared back at him before nodding his head and turning away. “Fair enough. I’ll make us some lunch.”
He returned a short while later and positioned a tray with a bowl on Bodie’s lap.
“Soup? I’m not a fucking invalid, Doyle! I can have solid foods now, you know.” Bodie tried to stand up to dislodge the whole lot but it was snatched away before he’d even moved an inch.
“Put it down Doyle and just piss off!”
“Bodie?”
“Just go home. I can manage without you fussing over me like some fucking mother hen.”
When he returned an hour or so later, Doyle found coffee relentlessly dripping off the kitchen worktop, sugar crunching underfoot and tablets scattered over the kitchen table, a claw hammer lying amongst the remnants of the plastic bottle they’d been dispensed in.
He discovered the awkward bugger asleep, lying half in and half out of bed, a frown furrowing his forehead.
Doyle carefully removed Bodie’s trainers then lifted his legs into bed and folded the quilt back over him. He didn’t feel he could remove the sling as well so he just had to hope the stupid git didn’t strangle himself where he lay.
He returned to the kitchen to tidy the chaos before preparing something Bodie might actually eat.
He must have dropped off in the armchair himself because he awoke some time later, sensing he was being watched.
A dishevelled Bodie stood by the bedroom door, shirt half untucked revealing an enticing glimpse of bare flesh, one trouser leg caught at half mast, a sock missing and his hair standing up in short tufts.
“I thought I told you to go home?” he growled.
“And I did… but now I’m back. Just look at you,” Doyle said affectionately. “You’re a right mess. What would Sister say if she saw you now?”
“I’m going for a piss.”
“No, she wouldn’t. She’s too much of a la-dee.”
The bathroom door slammed shut.
Doyle went and put the kettle on and, by the time the tea was brewing in the pot, Bodie was back, wavering in the kitchen doorway.
“Come on mate, sit down. My back’s not strong enough to pick you up off the floor just yet.”
They sat at the table, drinking their tea in silence.
“I collected up all your tablets and put them over there.” Doyle eventually said, pointing to a red and white mug on the fridge proclaiming Liverpool FC were the Champions of Europe, 1977 and 1978. “I know you don’t like relying on painkillers but what did you hope to achieve by destroying them?”
“I couldn’t get the fucking top off with one hand. Bloody child-proof caps.”
Doyle turned away, hiding his grin before he dared speak again. “I made us a meal, so don’t go eating all those,” indicating the half-empty packet of Jammie Dodgers. “Do you fancy something hot now or do you want to wait ‘til later?”
“Why did you come back?” Not the answer Doyle was expecting, then.
“I only went home to get my toothbrush,” he announced, producing it triumphantly like some magician’s wand, from his shirt pocket.
“You were gone a long time. I thought you might have pissed off for good.”
“You silly arse. When will you get it through your thick skull? I’m yours and I come with a life-time guarantee. I went home to pack a suitcase. I also emptied my fridge and kitchen cupboards so I now have some clean clothes and we have something, other than tinned soup, to eat. OK?”
Bodie looked at him sheepishly. “Sorry about that,” he eventually conceded, having belatedly realised that his own food stocks must be at rock bottom now.
“When you’re up to it, you can supervise me while I pack up the rest of my stuff and bring it over here. In the meantime, are you are going to let me help you? I want to, you know? I want to make your favourite meals, wash your hair, help you dress properly, drive you places. I want to because I love you.”
His resolve was tested again later that evening when Bodie announced he was going to soak the hospital stench off in a hot bath before hitting the sack.
“G’night mate,” Doyle said as he rummaged around in the kitchen, looking for the six-pack he’d brought over. Who’d have thought it; 8 o’clock on a Saturday evening and there he was, sitting in Bodie’s flat, watching Dr No on the telly whilst Bodie slept in the other room? Mind you, it was no hardship watching the beautiful Miss Andress emerge from the azure-blue sea, wearing nothing more than a skimpy white bikini and strapped-on fishing knife - but it was just not what he had been hoping for. Then again, it was a heck of a lot more than he could have even dreamed of not so very long ago.
A loud crash interrupted his musings. Doyle found Bodie forlornly sitting on the closed loo seat cradling his arm close to his chest, with the contents of the bathroom shelf scattered across the floor.
“Do you need a hand, mate?”
“Sod off Doyle, I can manage.”
“Yeah, right! Come on, shift yourself or all that hot water’s going to waste.”
Ignoring the scowling face, he silently helped Bodie undress and step carefully into the bath. He almost heard the hiss of relief as he leant back and relaxed into the warmth.
Having eventually found the bottle of shampoo lodged behind the radiator, Doyle gently encouraged Bodie to slide further down and dunk his head so he could wash out the residual blood and dried up scabs on his scalp.
He swallowed hard when his eyes were drawn down to the cock that gently swayed beneath the lapping water. He’d seen it before but never with the knowledge that it could, one day, be shoved up his arse. It might have been a long time since he’d last been fucked but he’d not forgotten how it felt and he clenched his buttocks in anticipation.
Bodie cleaned what bits he could reach himself and then, surprisingly, passed him the soap, leaning forward in silent request. Doyle tried to wash his back as clinically as possible but couldn’t deny that it felt good to firmly run his hands over the glorious, wet expanse - so he allowed himself time to enjoy every single moment, for it might be all he’d get for a while.
When his hard-on became too painful, he knew he had to stop. “I’ll leave you to soak for a bit, eh? And don’t be an arse, Bodie; give me a shout when you’re done.”
He made his escape, collected a clean towel from the airing cupboard and leant on the wall outside the bathroom, waiting for the royal summons he knew wouldn’t come. He eventually heard the sounds of draining water. “Here, I brought you this. Knew you’d forget it - and I was right, wasn’t I?” he said, walking straight in and offering a hand for Bodie to pull himself up on.
Once he was safely out of the bath, Bodie refused any further help and Doyle was convinced he then climbed into bed still damp around the edges. Stubborn son of a bitch!
Round one complete. He could do this, he really could, he tried to convince himself as he set about clearing up another bomb-site.
He had been up for a few hours the following morning before Bodie finally found his way into the kitchen, wrapped in his short terry dressing gown and not much else by the looks of it. Doyle didn’t make any sarcastic comments about the late hour because he knew the poor sod hadn’t slept well. Bodie’s first night back in his own bed and their first night sharing it - two momentous events that might never have happened, if things had turned out differently. Doyle had considered this, as he too had lain awake for most of the night.
“Tea’s fresh in the pot,” he announced as he stuck some bread in the toaster. By the time he’d cooked and plated up a full English, Bodie had already eaten a couple of Weetabix and, Doyle noted, poured cups of tea for both of them.
“That hit the spot, Ray, thanks. Hospital food’s crap. I don’t know how they expect you to regain strength when they serve you porridge you can cut with a knife and tasteless slops that bear little resemblance to what’s written on the menu. I’d have starved to death if you hadn’t smuggled in those emergency food parcels.”
“You’re welcome, Bodie although I would have liked to see you eat more of it. I don’t know where your appetite went but I’m glad to see it back,” he said, indicating the empty plates.
“It’s your cooking, mate. Can’t beat it. What’s for dinner?”
Doyle smiled across the table. He felt like he’d finally come home.
He got up to clear the plates but couldn’t stop himself wiping off a spot of runny yolk, caught in Bodie’s stubble, with the corner of the dish cloth before he used it to wipe down the table. Their eyes met and he wondered why he hadn’t just pointed it out rather than risk a broken wrist.
But Bodie just winked. “Thanks, mate. I hate being being caught with egg on my face,” the irony of the euphemism obviously not lost on him either.
After that, Bodie totally surprised him by accepting help with some of the everyday tasks that he just couldn’t manage with his one good arm; fastening buttons, tying laces, doing up belts, knotting ties and cutting up food. Doyle quietly got on with it all. He longed to touch Bodie intimately, caress him, snuggle up in bed with him - kiss him - but he’d have to wait until Bodie felt their relationship was more evenly balanced. In the meantime, he just enjoyed the close proximity these little chores brought them.
*****
“You’ve always been a crap passenger, Bodie. Other people are quite capable of driving safely, you know. So just shut the fuck up or you can get out and walk!”
“Well, I only asked because I tend to use all four of the cars tyres when I’m pottering round town.”
“I’m telling you Bodie, don’t push me.” Doyle turned and glared at him. “Who do you think Ross will blame if you arrive late for your appointment? Clue… it won’t be you, that’s for sure. Now, just zip it and hold on tight.”
“Charming,” Bodie replied, smiling to himself. He found it highly amusing that Doyle seemed more anxious about this, his first session with the psychologist, than he was himself. He’d been through tougher interrogations than she could ever dream up so he wasn’t in the least bit concerned.
Doyle drove straight into the carpark at HQ. “I’ll wait over in The Bell. Meet me in there when you’re done, yeah?”
Bodie pulled himself gingerly out of the car and leant on the roof to look across at him. “OK. I won’t be too long so don’t be talking to any strange men, 4.5.”
“Good luck, mate,” Ray shouted to the retreating figure who responded with a two fingered salute over the shoulder.
An hour and a half later, Bodie pushed through the pub doors and immediately located Doyle sitting by the window with a couple of fresh pints on the table in front of him.
“Betty came across and told me you were about finished,” Doyle explained, in response to Bodie’s raised eyebrow. “How did it go then? Was beginning to think she’d had you sectioned, the time you’ve been gone.”
Bodie lifted his glass, studied it for a moment, before downing half the contents.
“God, I needed that. Thanks.”
“Well, what did the lovely doc do to you? She manage to find any brain cells? Has she declared you insane? Is she gonna let you back on the squad?” Doyle eventually got to the important question.
“She made a monkey out of me, that’s what she did, and I didn’t think I was monkey material,” Bodie admitted, with a deep, self-depreciating, “Oo, oo, oo!”
Doyle laughed with relief. “Come on, Cheetah. Drink up and I’ll drive you home a bit more sedately. We can talk better there.”
*****
“Welcome back, 3.7. I’m glad you’ve elected to remain with us.” Mr Cowley stood up, walked around his desk and offered Bodie his hand. “I’m presuming Doyle helped you reach your decision.”
“Er, yes sir.”
“So, you’ve settled things amicably between yourselves and you want to remain partners?” he persisted.
“You could say that.”
“Then I can expect your work to be up to its previous standard and not as it has been latterly.”
“We’ll do our best, sir.”
“Dr Ross tells me you’ve been attending her weekly sessions regularly and she’s happy with your progress. Have you found them helpful in any way?”
“I suppose so,” Bodie reluctantly admitted.
“Excellent. And Miss Clarke, how is she these days?”
“Er, she’s accepted a new job up in Edinburgh. Left four weeks ago.”
“Sensible young lady.” Cowley smiled benevolently.
Bodie wasn’t sure if he was referring to her narrow escape or her choice of new home, north of the border.
“Right, your retraining starts today. You’ve got two weeks with Macklin before Doyle joins you for the following fortnight’s team re-evaluation with Jack Crane. On yer bike, laddie.”
*****
Kicking the door closed behind them, Bodie hardly allowed Doyle time to drop his bag before he was on him, turning him, shoving him back against the wall and scrabbling at his clothing. The jacket was discarded first but any self-control that he might have had was soon lost as he ripped at the shirt buttons, tearing it open, desperately needing to run his palms roughly through the chest hair that had taunted him for so long.
He leaned forward and latched onto Ray’s mouth as if his life depended on it. The kiss was savage, brutal, mind-blowing.
“Geez…” Ray gasped when Bodie eventually pulled away to catch his breath, saliva still linking them with its glistening threads. But he didn’t go far, just dropped to his knees, unzipping Ray’s jeans as he went, so he could delve in to get his first touch of warm, rigid flesh.
“Bed, Bodie… bed…” Doyle pleaded but his hips pushed forward invitingly and Bodie used the opportunity to carefully shove trousers and pants down and take that long cock into his mouth.
Its bulk, its strength, its silken sheath was everything he had dreamed it would be and he gloried in the knowledge that it was his; nothing, no-one stood in their way now.
Doyle bucked again involuntarily, shoving in deeper, causing Bodie to gag.
“Fuckin’ hell, I’m so sorry….” Ray’s hands were clasping Bodie’s head, urging him away.
But he wasn’t to be discouraged; their eyes met, Bodie moistened his lips and sucked the head back in, slowly, enticingly.
He grasped Ray’s buttocks with both hands, his fingers massaging the muscles convulsively. He relished the complete control he had as he set the speed and rhythm of the movements, learning more about his friend - the feel, the taste, the smell - than he ever thought was possible.
Looking up again, he was mesmerised by the sight of Ray plastered to the wall, eyes tightly shut, shirt hanging open, head rolling from side to side. Totally wanton.
Bodie came in his pants, kneeling there in the hallway, fully clothed and untouched, his groans reverberating around the prick still held firmly in his mouth pushing Doyle over his own precipice.
“I found it hard keeping my hands to myself the whole time we were training.” Doyle admitted as they lay slumped together in the hallway.
“Hmmm?”
“You do realise that, don’t you Bodie?”
“Yeah…” was the mumbled response.
“It drove me mad,” Doyle exclaimed indignantly, poking Bodie in the ribs.
“God Doyle. Give over, will you?” He still hadn’t managed to open his eyes, wanting to continue enjoying his post-coital bliss for as long as possible.
But Doyle had other ideas. He started shuffling about, annoyingly catching him with elbows and knees.
“What are you doing, Ray?” he finally asked, rousing himself from his stupor. Ray was straightening his clothes irritably and Bodie realised something was wrong.
“I felt just the same,” he confirmed, reaching for the hand that was shoving shirt back into jeans, and pulling him close again. “It was hard not to stare at you all the time like some love-struck adolescent; scrambling up the cargo net ahead of me, sprinting round the course in that threadbare tracksuit of yours that hides nothing and, I’ll have you know, I nearly had a stroke when you stripped down to your skivvies to swim that bloody river. I needed you too, mate but I had to put all my energy into passing the bastard assessment. I couldn’t let you distract me… couldn’t jeopardise our partnership.” Bodie sighed at the unbearable thought of failure.
Doyle propped himself up on Bodie’s chest so he could see his face and look in to his eyes.
“Yeah, I know what you mean but we’ve both passed and we’re back on the squad, stronger and fitter that ever. We’ve got the whole weekend off so let’s not waste it, eh?” He seemed more than reassured by Bodie’s admission.
The kiss that followed was their sweetest yet.
*****
Two weeks later, Doyle was lying on his side, head supported on a bent arm, staring at the pink scars that were scattered over Bodie’s bare torso. He leant over and gently laved the one closest to his heart.
They were both knackered after an op that had proved very successful although three of their lot required hospital treatment, albeit for minor injuries. By all accounts, the casualty numbers should have been greater had it not been for some brilliant CI5 teamwork, particularly by the recently reinstated Bisto Kids. It had been like old times; working in complete harmony and requiring very little verbal communication to round up the villains and secure the arms cache.
Only one incident cost Doyle a few extra grey hairs. Bodie had been stationed behind some packing cases, perhaps ten, twelve feet away and they had both been concentrating their fire on the enemy, pinning them down at the far end of the building, whilst McCabe and Anson had made their cautious way around to attack from the rear. Doyle had been distracted briefly by some shots coming from an open doorway off to his right but once he’d felled the escaping gunman, he was back to support Bodie. But Bodie’s gun had gone ominously quiet and, when he looked over, Doyle couldn’t see him either.
Shit!
A moment, a whole lifetime later, his partner’s head had popped back up, jiggling his gun around, with a delighted grin plastered over his face. Despite knowing it must have been a stoppage, Doyle couldn’t help it… he grinned right back at the stupid pillock. God, is this what love does, he’d thought; turns you into a raving lunatic at the most inappropriate times?
The body started to squirm beneath him, vying for a little more attention. “Don’t stop, Ray. I like that cheeky tongue of yours.”
“Ah, so you’re awake then? Thought you were going to sleep the clock round.”
“What, and miss a night of passion with that sexy body of yours? No way, Jose. I was just getting my second wind… or was it third, I’ve lost count?”
And with that, Doyle found himself unceremoniously rolled over and a warm Bodie plastered down his front, their cocks jousting enthusiastically in the tight space between their sticky bellies.
“Do you think we should tell the Cow about all this?” Bodie later asked, with a sweeping gesture of his arm encompassing the wrecked bed.
“What? Tell him about the fantastic sex we’re just had?”
Bodie looked at him in exasperation. “No, you fool. The fact that we are having sex. The fact that we’re two blokes having fantastic sex.”
“God, no. He’d throw a fit if he had to deal with that little bombshell. ‘S not worth the risk, mate.”
Bodie swung his legs out and sat on the edge of the mattress, head bowed, elbows resting on his knees. “You don’t think he’d accept us then? Let us stay on the squad if he knew?”
Doyle scooted up to kneel behind him and wrapped his arms around the strong neck, their skin still warm and damp, sticking together comfortably. “I love you Bodie, I always will, but I’m selfish and want it all; I want you and I want to keep my job. If we tell Cowley it’s likely he’ll split us up or even boot us out altogether if he’s pushed and I don’t want either of those things to happen. What’s to be gained by telling him, eh?”
“He’s been good to me Ray and I respect him. Sometimes I think he suspects we’re closer than we’re letting on. I just hate being dishonest with him.”
“Listen Bodie. He’s an old puritanical bastard who wouldn’t risk his beloved CI5 for the likes of us. Let’s keep it between the two of us for now and then, when we retire, we can tell the whole world.”
“And what if we don’t make it to retirement, eh? What if one of us takes a bullet or a knife that we don’t survive? I’ve never believed I’ll make old bones. Never thought I’d get to 40, to be honest. So, we’ll always have this dirty little secret, then? The truth will never come out? I can’t stand the thought of that, Ray.”
“Bodie, Bodie, Bodie. What am I to do with you? So hard on the outside,” he said, squeezing a rock-solid bicep, “but just a big old softie inside.”
“Don’t mock me, Doyle.” Bodie abruptly stood up, dislodging Doyle’s arms. “I’m telling you, just don’t mock me.” Standing in the middle of the floor, glaring down at his lover, he still looked ferocious despite being stark bollock naked.
“Bodie, love. Come here. Come and sit down, will you? I can’t talk when you’re threatening me with that monster.” He bravely tried a bit of humour, nodding towards Bodie’s groin.
It worked because Bodie eventually relented and returned to the bed but his body was still fairly buzzing with tension.
“His opinion means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” Doyle acknowledged, rubbing his palm across Bodie’s thigh. “OK, we’ll tell him, if that’s what you really want, and face the consequences together. If he tries to break the partnership up then we’ll quit. If he throws us out then we’ll just walk away. But whatever happens, we stick together. OK?”
“I don’t want to leave the squad either, Ray but I do think the old man deserves to hear the truth from us.”
“We’re seeing him tomorrow so we’ll tell him then. In the meantime, let’s make use of this rather large bed because we may be unemployed and homeless in a few short hours.
The following morning, they stood nervously together outside their boss’ open office door. His secretary’s desk was unoccupied, the trays were empty, the drawers securely locked and the Olivetti Typewriter tucked neatly away beneath its grey plastic cover. Things must be quiet on the espionage front if Betty had been granted precious time off on a Bank Holiday.
The Controller looked up from the report he was reading and smiled. “Guid mornin, you two. Come on in. And don’t just stand there Doyle, pour us all a wee dram. We’ll celebrate Hogmanay with a drop of Scotland’s finest.” He indicated a half-empty bottle of Glenfiddich on the filing cabinet.
Doyle found three crystal tumblers and poured hefty measures into each. They’d all be needing it.
Cowley stood up and raised his glass. “Lang may your lums reek, lads.”
“May our flues be forever smokin’, sir?”
“Really Bodie! Inuendo at this time of the morning? Sometimes I find your ribaldry quite…”
“Good health sir,” Doyle interrupted before turning to scowl at his partner.
“Aye, 4.5 and let’s hope it’s an improvement on the last one. For all of us, I might add.”
“Sláinte.” Bodie tilted his glass towards his boss before taking a sip. “Mr Cowley, sir. We do need to speak to you.”
“Yes, yes 3.7. All in good time but first I want to fill you in on your next assignment.” He sat back down at his desk and pulled a file from the top drawer. “I have a particular job that will suit your specific… how shall I put it? Skills?” He spread out the contents, selected a black and white head shot and studied it quietly for a few moments.
Doyle turned and shot a questioning frown at Bodie who simply raised an eyebrow and shrugged in response.
“Sir?”
Apparently coming to a satisfactory decision, Cowley carefully replaced the photograph in the pile and slipped everything back into the folder before turning his attention towards his two top operatives. “I was recently approached by a gentleman called Thomas Pellin and he is asking for my help. I think you’ll both appreciate the delicacy of this particular undercover role.”
Bodie looked closely at his boss and, for some inexplicable reason, had the distinct impression that the wily old bastard already knew what they’d come to tell him.
Was it really possible, he dared to wonder, that they could have everything they wanted; each other and keep their job?
Yeah, it might only be January 1st but this New Year was already showing great promise.
The End
2019
*****
Title: Fallout
Author: cornishcat
Slash or Gen: Slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: Yes please
Disclaimer: Just playin’
Notes: Many thanks to the brilliant solosundance for invaluable cheerleader and beta duties