Discovered in a Box of Baubles - Day 18 - Ficlet
Deck the Halls
by Melanie Athene
“Deck the halls with boughs of holly. Fa la la la la, la la la la.”
“Bodie...” Doyle growled, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. “If you don’t shut it, I’m going to deck you.”
“Sorry, Sunshine. That damn song’s stuck in my head. Blame the obbo. How many hours did we spend in the shopping centre, trailing behind Krushnic, waiting for his contact to show? That annoying piped music plays on repeat everywhere you go. It’s enough to drive a bloke mad. I honestly don’t know which I detest more, the fa la las, or the rum pum pums.”
“Six of one...” Doyle sighed.
“There’s no escaping the holiday spirit, Ray,” Bodie said glumly. “Even in the depths of dreary old Whitehall, the festive bug has bitten people in the backside. Fairy lights and wreaths and garlands, not to mention all the tinsel and baubles dangling off the trees. It’s everywhere you look.”
“Hmm.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Have you looked everywhere, Bodie? Have you checked the boot of the Cow’s car? Have you been 'round to my flat lately?”
“Don’t tell me your smelly old socks are hung with care, waiting for Father Christmas to come down your chimney.”
“Didn’t say that.”
“But you do have a pressie for me?”
“Didn’t say that either.”
“You don’t have a pressie for me?
“Stop pouting 3.7, you’ll trip over your lip.”
Bodie resisted the childish urge to stick out his tongue.
“I have something different in mind this year.”
“Really? Do tell.”
“It’s not Father Christmas I’m hoping’ll come down my chimney - and up my chimney too, if I’m lucky. And it’s not a red bauble that’s dangling off the bough, but there could be a red bow involved, and there are definitely dangly bits.”
“And you’re telling me this because...?”
“I couldn’t think of what else to get you. It’s not like you haven’t been dropping hints for ages now. So...” Doyle shrugged.
“So - and let’s be perfectly clear about this so I don’t get me teeth knocked out and both arms broken if I’m mistaken - you’re issuing an invitation - to me - to rock around your Christmas tree?”
Doyle grinned. “You’re not wrong about the rocking... but I haven’t got a tree.”
“I see.” Bodie contemplated the implications, the wonder, of all that was on offer.
Doyle concentrated very hard on not steering his car into a telephone pole as the seconds ticked by, and Bodie made no further comment. He was just about to pass it all off as a huge ‘got you’ joke, when his partner broke the silence.
“Do I have to wait till Christmas Day for my pressie?”
“Not necessarily. You’ve heard of the Twelve Days of Christmas?”
“Mm. Now there’s a carol I can get behind. Lots of room to use your imagination in that one.”
“Agreed. So... My place or yours?”
“Yours, Angelfish. If you have food in.”
“There might be a bit of leftover takeaway in the fridge.”
“Then let’s not hang about. I can’t wait to unwrap my pressie.”
“And what about a pressie for me?” Doyle demanded. “Have you given that any thought?”
“Only the best for you, old son.”
“And that would be?”
“Me, of course. The gift that keeps on giving.”
“And receiving, I trust?”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Doyle pressed his foot down a little harder on the accelerator.
“Deck your balls with boughs of holly,” Bodie carolled merrily.
“Bo-die!” Doyle roared.
-------
Title: Deck the Halls
Author: melanieathene
Slash or Gen: slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: Yes
Disclaimer: Bodie and Doyle belong to each other. Always have, always will.
Notes: Many thanks to cali_se for the beta
by Melanie Athene
“Deck the halls with boughs of holly. Fa la la la la, la la la la.”
“Bodie...” Doyle growled, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. “If you don’t shut it, I’m going to deck you.”
“Sorry, Sunshine. That damn song’s stuck in my head. Blame the obbo. How many hours did we spend in the shopping centre, trailing behind Krushnic, waiting for his contact to show? That annoying piped music plays on repeat everywhere you go. It’s enough to drive a bloke mad. I honestly don’t know which I detest more, the fa la las, or the rum pum pums.”
“Six of one...” Doyle sighed.
“There’s no escaping the holiday spirit, Ray,” Bodie said glumly. “Even in the depths of dreary old Whitehall, the festive bug has bitten people in the backside. Fairy lights and wreaths and garlands, not to mention all the tinsel and baubles dangling off the trees. It’s everywhere you look.”
“Hmm.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Have you looked everywhere, Bodie? Have you checked the boot of the Cow’s car? Have you been 'round to my flat lately?”
“Don’t tell me your smelly old socks are hung with care, waiting for Father Christmas to come down your chimney.”
“Didn’t say that.”
“But you do have a pressie for me?”
“Didn’t say that either.”
“You don’t have a pressie for me?
“Stop pouting 3.7, you’ll trip over your lip.”
Bodie resisted the childish urge to stick out his tongue.
“I have something different in mind this year.”
“Really? Do tell.”
“It’s not Father Christmas I’m hoping’ll come down my chimney - and up my chimney too, if I’m lucky. And it’s not a red bauble that’s dangling off the bough, but there could be a red bow involved, and there are definitely dangly bits.”
“And you’re telling me this because...?”
“I couldn’t think of what else to get you. It’s not like you haven’t been dropping hints for ages now. So...” Doyle shrugged.
“So - and let’s be perfectly clear about this so I don’t get me teeth knocked out and both arms broken if I’m mistaken - you’re issuing an invitation - to me - to rock around your Christmas tree?”
Doyle grinned. “You’re not wrong about the rocking... but I haven’t got a tree.”
“I see.” Bodie contemplated the implications, the wonder, of all that was on offer.
Doyle concentrated very hard on not steering his car into a telephone pole as the seconds ticked by, and Bodie made no further comment. He was just about to pass it all off as a huge ‘got you’ joke, when his partner broke the silence.
“Do I have to wait till Christmas Day for my pressie?”
“Not necessarily. You’ve heard of the Twelve Days of Christmas?”
“Mm. Now there’s a carol I can get behind. Lots of room to use your imagination in that one.”
“Agreed. So... My place or yours?”
“Yours, Angelfish. If you have food in.”
“There might be a bit of leftover takeaway in the fridge.”
“Then let’s not hang about. I can’t wait to unwrap my pressie.”
“And what about a pressie for me?” Doyle demanded. “Have you given that any thought?”
“Only the best for you, old son.”
“And that would be?”
“Me, of course. The gift that keeps on giving.”
“And receiving, I trust?”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Doyle pressed his foot down a little harder on the accelerator.
“Deck your balls with boughs of holly,” Bodie carolled merrily.
“Bo-die!” Doyle roared.
-------
Title: Deck the Halls
Author: melanieathene
Slash or Gen: slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: Yes
Disclaimer: Bodie and Doyle belong to each other. Always have, always will.
Notes: Many thanks to cali_se for the beta