Day 04 Jan - Tinsel Covered Christmas Blues by LilyK
Tinsel Covered Christmas Blues
by LilyK
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May all your days be merry
Your seasons full of cheer
But ‘til it’s January I’ll just go and disappear
Oh Santa may have brought you some stars for your shoes
But Santa only brought me the blues
Those brightly packaged tinsel covered Christmas blues
--Dean Martin--
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“It’s Christmas,” Bodie said, spitting out the word as if it were a nasty piece of gristle he’d bitten into. He hung his head down and kicked at the carpeting. “I hate Christmas.” Raising his head, he glared at Doyle. “What are we supposed to do with three days off!” Throwing out his hands, he shouted, “Without being on a job during Christmas! Bloody hell.”
Doyle glared back, his eyes narrowed. “You’re blaming me for us not being on assignment over Christmas, mate? I’m stuck at home, same as you!” He poked a finger into Bodie’s shoulder. “You think I want to be here,” he said, hands waving wildly around his little flat, “with nothing to do? No good telly. All Christmas rubbish all the time? If I hear another carol, I’ll pull out me gun and do some mischief!”
Bodie, hands in pockets, glowered with narrowed eyes. “Your mum and dad?”
“Gone to warmer climes this year.” Doyle sighed theatrically.
“Birds?”
“Nah. Not in the mood.”
“Me neither. Something must be off with us but I’m warning you, you’d better think of something. With the shops closed...” Bodie gasped. “Wait a darned second! Will the pubs be open? Christ, this is a disaster!”
“Put that sodding finger away before you find it shoved somewhere the sun doesn’t shine! And tell me why is it my responsibility to keep you amused? I’ve got enough to do! I’ll- I’ll clean the flat. Got a washing machine in this one, so I’ll do me own laundry. Then- Blimey, I haven’t got food in either. I’ll starve if the shops and restaurants are closed.” Doyle patted his pockets. “Wallet, keys...” he said, running to the bedroom. Returning wearing a coat, he didn’t pause on his journey through the lounge. “Lock up after you leave!”
Doyle’s leaving spurred Bodie into action. “Wait for me!” He took a few extra moments to set the locks before hurrying after his partner. Ahead on the sidewalk, he could see the striding man. “Good thing the shops are within walking distance,” he muttered, trotting to catch up. He slowed when he got to his partner. Giving Doyle a sidelong glance, he saw his mate looking furious. His eyes flashed, which made Bodie shiver with the intensity. It's a shame he wasn't the focus of those intense eyes. But that was a- what? Christmas dream? To Santa: For Christmas, Bodie wants a Doyle of his very own under his tree. He snorted with laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Doyle snarled, his lip curling.
“Nothing.” He gave Doyle his most innocent grin.
“Prat.”
“Mate.”
Doyle’s footsteps slowed and his stance relaxed. “Right. It is Christmas. I forgot. Good cheer and all that,” he said, not happily but not grouchily either. More neutral than anything, Bodie reckoned.
“That’s the spirit!” Bodie gave Doyle’s arm a playful punch. “We’ll do what normal people do!”
“Oh, God,” Doyle said, looking heavenward. “Normal people. Trees and gifts and steamed pudding? I don’t know if my heart can stand it.” He paused, looked down at his hands, then looked up. “Okay, then. Normal Christmas. I’m willing. But you were the one bemoaning being off duty for Christmas not five minutes ago!”
Shrugging, Bodie said, “Changed me mind. Spending Christmas with you, aren’t I?”
Doyle looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Are you?”
“If I’m invited. Pay for half the fixings and booze.” Bodie gave Doyle his most cheeky smile, full of teeth. “Even buy you a pressie, if you like.”
“Such as...?”
“Whatever you fancy. Lots of shops here.” He looked around.
“Lots of people, you mean. Hate crowds.” Doyle pouted.
“Come on then.” Bodie hooked his arm in Doyle’s and they headed into Marks & Spencer. “Wow. This supermarket is twice as big as the one near mine. Look at this!”
Bodie raced around, piling food into a carry basket. The pre-cooked section was huge. He put in a whole roasted chicken, cheese mashed potatoes, and honey glazed sprouts and carrots. Doyle came down the aisle with his own basket holding various salad fixings, milk, apples, grapes and orange juice. They looked at each other’s selections.
“Nice,” Bodie said, looking over Doyle’s basket.
“Yours, too. What else?”
“Eggs, bread... and cheese,” Bodie offered, “for brekkie. And pudding?” he said, batting his eyes.
Doyle rolled his eyes. “You are five years old.”
“Only in dog years.”
Laughing, Doyle cocked his head. “Baked goods, this way.”
Together, they chose a delicious-looking mince pie, along with a black currant crumble, two packets of digestives, and another of buttery short-breads.
Checking out, Bodie handed the cashier the appropriate amount of money, earning another smile from his partner. He felt better and better as the time together passed.
Bodie paused on the pavement, two full carrier bags hanging from his hands. “With you and me weighted down and no arms to carry booze, let’s take this back to the flat and come back.” He nodded his head to the off licence. “I need plenty of lubrication.”
Doyle gave him a warm smile. Somewhere in the aisles of Marks & Spencer, Doyle seemed to have mellowed about having nothing to do over Christmas.
“Got plenty of time; might as well.”
Shoulder to shoulder, they strolled home. Bodie liked when he brushed his upper arm against Doyle’s. He liked it even more when Doyle brushed his upper arm against his. Seemed to be on purpose, which made Bodie happy. Maybe...? Nah. Not his bird-chasing mate. Still, was nice.
Purchases stowed, they ambled back to the off licence, chatting about nothing in particular: cars, motorcycles, hand guns, the decorations in the shops, a young boy leading a cute little dog in a Santa jumper. Bodie felt more relaxed and happy than he had in a long while. Being with Doyle was always nice. No one shooting at them; no rushing around busy London trying to get to Cowley “in ten minutes!” when the Cow knew it would take thirty to get across the busy streets to his location.
In the off license, they split up. Bodie picked out a bottle of whisky (made in Scotland, of course) and a bottle of red wine that he knew Doyle liked, in a special holiday section. Then he saw it, a fairly expensive bottle of champagne, complete with ribbons around its neck, on the top of a festive display for New Year’s. They’d surely be working New Year’s. He sneaked a look around, noting Doyle at the wine shelving across the store, and hurried with his purchases to the clerk. He requested the clerk to double-bag the champagne, and once accomplished, he breathed easier when his selection was out of sight.
Doyle came up behind him. “Find anything good?”
“Yes.” Bodie smiled. “A nice malt and that wine you like to have with our Christmas dinner.”
With a smile, Doyle put his own pickings out for the clerk to ring up: two six packs of their favourite beer, a bottle of lime green-coloured vodka and a bottle of seltzer. “Going to make some green drinks. Celebrate the season. Think it will go with your bottle of red?”
“All booze goes with other boozes.” Bodie chuckled. “Is boozes a word?”
“It is today.” Doyle gave his partner a dazzling smile.
“Feeling better?” Bodie asked on their way back to the flat.
“Definitely. This might not be a bad way to spend Christmas. With you. Hang about.”
“What?”
“Newspaper.” Doyle ducked into the newsagents and emerged a few minutes later with a paper sticking out of his carrier bag. “Shops will be closed soon. It’s Christmas Eve.”
“I know that, silly bugger. We’d best grab fish ‘n chips now before the chippy closes in-” Bodie looked at his watch, “ten minutes.
With the latest fragrant purchase in its own carrier bag, Bodie led the way up the steps to Doyle's second-floor flat. He set one bag on the carpeting to retrieve his own set of keys and opened the door. “After you, my liege,” he said with a flourish. “Food first, while it’s hot.”
“Tea or beer?” Doyle asked while he set his bags on the bench.
Bodie made himself busy laying out their dinner. “Tea for now. Cheers.”
Doyle plugged in the kettle. “Going to hit the loo. Back in a tick.”
Returning as promised, Bodie pushed a full plate of fish and chips over to Doyle. He dug into his own meal, liberally sprinkling malt vinegar on the stack. When the kettle boiled, he made a strong pot of tea, putting out milk and sugar. It didn’t take long for the food to disappear into hungry bellies. He poured tea and sat back, holding the cup in his hands.
“I like being here with you."
Doyle sipped his hot tea. “Perfect. ‘nd I like being here. With you.” He looked pointedly at Bodie. “It’s my flat, anyway.” He gave Bodie a look that clearly said he was on the same wavelength as Bodie regarding their relationship.
Bodie knew he blushed because his thoughts strayed into territory where Doyle looked at him like that when they were both naked. “I- Yeah. Me too,” he said lamely.
Doyle put down his cup and leaned forward. “Have something important to tell you, Bodie. I’ve wanted to for a good while now. Maybe this is Kismet, us being here, alone and together.”
A frisson of fear raced up Bodie’s back. No, please no. Doyle couldn’t be... in love. Doyle couldn’t be leaving CI5 and him for some bird! Or another job? Please-
“You aren’t listening to me.” Doyle stood quickly and hurried from the kitchen.
“Ray!” Bodie leapt up, overturning the chair. “Wait!” He caught up with Doyle as his partner was shrugging into his coat. “Christ, Ray, give me a chance. I was distracted, but you have my full attention. Tell me what you want to tell me!” he demanded.
“It’s- it’s enough to break us up, scuttle the partnership.” Doyle looked down at his shoes for a moment before he looked directly at Bodie. Taking in a deep breath, he exhaled and said, “It could ruin our friendship.”
“Nothing, mate, nothing in the world could do that.” Bodie took Doyle’s elbows into his hands and gently shook him. “Trust me.”
Doyle nodded slowly, his gaze holding Bodie’s. “I do, with my life. And now with my heart.”
Bodie stared back at Doyle. “What?”
Doyle tried to pull away, but Bodie held firm. “Tell me in little words so’s I understand.”
Snorting, Doyle said, “You’re not a Neanderthal, Bodie, so don’t play one with me. Okay. Little words. Three small ones.” He paused, then blurted out, “I love you.”
Bodie laughed, delighted with the admission. Doyle glowered. “Don’t laugh at me!”
“Not laughing at you, berk! I’m thrilled, because I feel the same. Have been wanting you for a good while now.” Bodie grinned at Doyle’s astonishment.
“Really?” Doyle squeaked, making Bodie laugh even more.
“Come here.” He pulled Doyle close, and they kissed.
Kissing Doyle was like coming home. Soft and warm and tasting of malt vinegar. Bodie wrapped his arms around Doyle’s back and held him close, lips exploring the entire time.
When they finally parted, Doyle said, “Blimey.”
Bodie nodded and pulled Doyle towards him for more kissing. For a long while they stood sharing those kisses until Doyle stepped back.
“Cowley?” Doyle said.
Bodie shook his head. “Don’t want Cowley. Want you.”
Doyle laughed delightedly. “No! What will we tell him?”
“Don’t care.” Bodie tried to bring Doyle back into his arms, but Doyle sidestepped.
“CI5?”
“Don’t care about that either. We stay, discreetly shag each other, or he finds out and boots us. Either way, it’s you and me, mate.”
Doyle nodded, his eyes bright. “And... sex?”
“Get right to the point, don’t you, my son?” Bodie said, his voice full of happiness. “Experience?”
“I asked you first.”
Bodie shrugged. “Some. Enough to know it feels good. You?”
“Once or twice. Was nice but once I joined the Met, I behaved myself. Birds only.”
“Yeah, me too, after Africa. Been a good boy since.” Bodie reached out, and Doyle slipped his hand into his. “Settled?”
“Birds?”
“Nope. Just you.” Bodie grinned, showing teeth, making Doyle laugh.
“Let’s spend Christmas Eve in bed,” Doyle offered.
Nodding furiously, Bodie said, “Oh, I’m all for that! After pudding, of course.”
“Bodie!”
“I’ll need me strength and so will you.” Bodie waggled his eyebrow. “Come on then. Mince pie, a couple of biscuits, and thou. All I need.”
“Happy Christmas, Bodie.”
Bodie couldn’t keep the joy from his face, even if he wanted to. “The best one yet.”
The night ranked in Bodie's top ten. Make that top five. On second thought, he moved their first evening as lovers to number one. Laying next to Doyle in the early morning hours, he listened to his lover sleep. Each breath was a precious gift. Could he describe the night and give it the attention it deserved? He'd sure try. Wonderful didn't even begin to describe it. Doyle in his arms, naked and hard. Doyle sucking him off, and him returning the favour. Kisses! Doyle demanded kisses and cuddles, and Bodie complied with pleasure. But Doyle was a considerate lover, and Bodie loved being the recipient of that consideration. He had never felt more content in his life. Doyle was all he could ask for, and more.
"Awake?" Doyle mused, his voice sleepy.
"Yeah. You?"
"Berk."
Bodie kissed Doyle's shoulder, which led to more kisses, and cocks hardening, and love making until mid-morning.
"Starving!" Bodie demanded when Doyle had been fully satiated in other ways.
"Me too. Breakfast?"
"Shower first, together?"
"Thought you'd never ask."
Showering with Doyle was a delight. Lots of laughter, soapy caresses, and wet kisses. Bodie couldn't ever remember being so content. Wearing Doyle's extra terry robe, he and Doyle prepared breakfast together, eating from each other plates of eggs and toast, along with coffee and orange juice. Once they'd cleaned up, Bodie decided it was time.
"Pressies?" He gave his lover a shy grin and rubbed his hands. He might not care about Christmas, but he loved presents.
"Definitely," Doyle agreed. "Give me two minutes to get organised. Somebody distracted me last night, and I didn't have time to play Santa."
"At the non-existent tree in the lounge in two minutes," Bodie said. He raced off, digging out Doyle's bottle of champagne from the bottom of the laundry basket. It would need chilled, but they had time before their Christmas feast to refrigerate it. Grinning at the colourful ribbons about the bottle's neck, he hurried back to the living room. Pausing in the middle of the room, he took in the scene.
Doyle was lounging on the sofa, the robe he was wearing artfully covering his cock. On the coffee table was a spread of items. "Happy Christmas!" Doyle cried.
"Wow. Is this all for me?" Bodie asked, awestruck at the bounty. Three glossy magazines, one about weapons and ammo, the second about motorcycles, and the third a travel magazine with a beautiful beach on the cover. Next to the magazines were a variety of sweets. His gaze instantly latched onto one particular box. "Terry's Chocolate Orange! I haven't had one since I was a nipper. Thank you!" Bodie rushed over to his lover and planted a loud kiss on his lips.
Doyle slipped a hand behind Bodie's head and deepened the kiss. Releasing Bodie, he smiled. "Nice."
"This is for you." He handed Doyle the fancy champagne bottle.
"Oh, cheers, mate. This is a great brand. Love this!" He took the bottle and admired it for a few moments before he looked up into his lover's eyes. "I don't want to get soppy, but I want you to know I'm so happy we're here, together, and everything."
Bodie waved a hand. "Cheers, love. This is fabulous." He fell to his knees and they kissed again.
"Bedroom?" Doyle asked.
"You don't need to ask me twice."
The lovemaking was slow and sweet, each man investigating the other with fingers and tongue and eyes. A quick wash and they dressed, chatting.
"I need to stretch me legs," Doyle declared. "Walk?"
"It's bleeding cold out there!" Bodie exclaimed.
"Come on, my flower. It will do you good."
Dressing warmly in coats, hats, scarves and gloves, Bodie led Doyle out of the flat by the hand. They walked through the nearly deserted park near Doyle's flat until cold noses and cheeks sent them back to the flat forty minutes later.
"May I?" Bodie said, tossing his outer clothing onto the chair. He held up the chocolate orange.
"'Course. Silly bugger. It's yours. I've put the champagne in the fridge."
Bodie lightly smacked the gold-foiled confection against the coffee table. He peeled back the foil to reveal the chocolaty sections that had fallen apart, looking like sections of a real orange. He popped one into his mouth and fed Doyle a piece.
"Nice," Doyle admitted, smacking his lips. "Not a big sweet eater, but that's a smooth chocolate with that hint of orange. Could be addictive!"
"Hmmm," Bodie said, eating two more slices. "Drink?"
"Ah ha! I put the vodka into the fridge last night. A Doyle special?"
"You're on."
Bodie sat down on the sofa, spreading his arm across the back. Doyle returned in a few minutes with glasses of bright green vodka/seltzer drinks. They clinked glasses.
"To us," Bodie said. "Through thick and thin."
Doyle smiled, sipping his drink. "Not bad."
"Not nearly as disgusting as Marge's green rubbish," Bodie reminded Doyle.
"Not nearly!"
They sat in companionable silence for a while, sipping and kissing.
"Telly?" Bodie asked.
Shrugging, Doyle reached over to the lamp table and flashed a small electronic device at Bodie. "Watch this!" He pointed the contraption at the television and it turned on.
"What the hell?" Bodie said.
"Pressie from me parents. Mum and Da stopped by on their way to Heathrow last week and gave me this newfangled telly with a remote control."
"So we never have to get up to switch channels or even turn it on?"
"Nope. We can stay wrapped in each other's arms all we like."
"Lap of luxury, that is," Bodie said, kissing Doyle's cheek nearest his mouth.
The telly came on, revealing the annual Queen's Speech. He set the remote down and snuggled into Bodie's arms.
As the Queen talked, Doyle sighed. "Bodie?"
"Hmmm?"
"Are we doing the right thing?"
"Right for who?"
"Whom."
"I'm doing what's right for me. For us. No snogging in HQ or on the job, but... I want you with me always."
Doyle turned his head to look into Bodie's eyes. "Commitment?"
"Told you already, didn't I? Me and you. Partners. Lovers. Fucking husband and- husband."
Doyle dissolved into laughter. "H and H, eh?"
Bodie squeezed Doyle, making him giggle.
"Buy you a ring if you like," Bodie offered. "Get towels monogrammed at Harrods."
"Nah. Don't need that to know I love you."
Bodie was quiet for a moment before he said, "I'm not big on spouting words of love all the time but in case I don't say it enough or again, I want you to remember: I love you, too."
"Done. Anything else?"
Smiling, Bodie asked, "I'm hungry. When's our Christmas feast?"
The End
Title: Tinsel Covered Christmas Blues
Author: LilyK (sc_fossil)
Genre: Slash
Proslib: Yes, please
Summary: The lads are out of sorts not having to work Christmas. What will they do?
Notes: Thanks to byslantedlight for hosting and all the contributors! It's been great fun.