Fiction: Season's Greetings
Here's a story I wrote for Martin Shaw's birthday
Title: Season’s Greetings
Author: lbc
Pairing: B/D
Rating: Slash
Note: This is to celebrate the birthday of MS. Happy Birthday to our lad.
SEASON’S GREETINGS!
Doyle looked at the package AGAIN. That’s what it said. That’s what that bloody Bodie had put on his package. What a pressie for your best mate’s Christmas!
Ray Doyle dropped his head to his chest and remembered the day the package had arrived in the mail. It was the SAME DAY that Bodie had taken off for the Christmas holidays with that bimbo, Jean or Jane or June or whatever. Doyle had been looking forward to spending some time with his best mate during the first Christmas that they hadn’t had to work in a very long time . . . and then the clod rushes off to be with what’s her name.
Doyle had been so furious that he had refused to open the package. It had remained on the small table in his faux foyer since it had arrived. He read the words, SEASON’S GREETINGS every day when he got home. It had become like a thorn exacerbating his flesh, but it also kept his irritation with his partner going.
He had not seen Bodie since before Christmas because the partners had gone solo for the last few weeks. First, Bodie was sent out on the Jamison case while Doyle had to remain in London to testify during several cases going to trial, and then Bodie was sent north to Manchester to work with the locals there on some potential terrorists activities while Doyle had had to act as a substitute for various agents who had fallen ill with the seasonal flu that was going around.
The weather had taken a nosedive and was miserable. The flu season was in high gear with resources spread thinner and thinner and Doyle was without his partner. Of course, part of this was of his own making. He might have got in contact with his partner; he wasn’t undercover or anything, but to spite his own face, Doyle had chosen not to make the effort. Bodie didn’t care about him; he’d just sent a ratty looking package for Christmas with that mundane, ordinary, barely civil greeting.
Of course, if Ray Doyle had wanted to be honest, he should have been pleased that Bodie had even sent a pressie since that was not their usual practice at Christmas time. In fact, they usually spent the time working for CI5 either relieving other agents at headquarters or out on the streets, but it was the principle of the thing and Doyle refused to accept that Bodie had just taken off with Jean whatever and left him behind.
Ray Doyle was normally a brutally honest man, especially with himself, but he refused to admit that he was being petty and even worse that he was jealous that Bodie had put what’s her name before himself in his attentions. They could have had four whole days doing things and yet Bodie had chosen June with whom to have his wicked way. If Doyle was not seeing things through the green coloured veil of jealousy, he would have had to admit that there was very little competition between a warm, luscious, willing female body, and a scrawny, hairy, muscled male body, but Ray Doyle had no intention of being honest with himself or anyone else.
He had heard nothing from Bodie in over three weeks which proved that the lazy clod didn’t care about him. There had been times that he really thought that maybe Bodie had finally got the idea. Certainly Doyle had been putting out enough feelers and vibes, but the dumb crud had ignored them all and run off with that bimbo.
Today was his birthday and not one peep from his straying partner. He had tried to pump Murph on Bodie’s whereabouts. That wasn’t easy because Murph, notwithstanding that brown hair always in his eyes was very perceptive about the goings on at CI5, but he was dating Susie, Jane whatever’s roommate. The information was little, but he did determine that Bodie was still on the job in the North.
What a raunchy way to spend a birthday. He had tried to bolster himself with a pint at his local and some grub, but it wasn’t the same without his partner there to make him laugh. Even a pack of beer and some takeaway at his flat would have been better if Bodie had been there.
Doyle sighed and told himself to stop being such a wimp. He had been a loner all of his life . . . at least, until he had met with William Andrew Philip Bodie some five years ago. When had the dark-haired ex-merc become so important in his life? When had he ceased to be able to be happy with just himself and independent of that blue-eyed imp who had saved his life so many times?
By the time Mayli had put two bullets into him, Doyle knew he was lost, and that his relationship with his partner would never be the same . . . only why hadn’t Bodie got the message? Bodie had been there for him every step of his long recovery. In fact, some days, it was only seeing Bodie walking through his hospital room door that had kept him going. Now some bird had dragged his best mate away and Bodie hadn’t struggled a bit.
Sitting on the settee he could see the infamous package and the hideous greetings in the dim distance. How many times had he felt like picking up the package and heaving it across the room? It looked like a rush job with little thought to wrapping it carefully. Obviously, Bodie was trying to tell him something but why had he sent the package in the first place?
It had been so long since he had seen his partner that he was expecting Cowley to call him in any day and tell him that Bodie had requested a change in partners. That would be so typical of the crud. He was a loner and had moved on from many jobs in his short 33 years of life.
Some birthday! Looking at the clock, he saw that there were still almost four hours left of the most miserable day of his life (not excluding Mayli). What could he do for the next four hours? If he had a large picture of that blue-eyed bastard, he would practice darts, but for some reason, his partner always shied away from cameras. In fact, the last picture Doyle knew about was at Alf Cole’s retirement party last fall. It had been a magical night. Both he and Bodie had been drunker than any skunk that ever lived. How they had got home that night, Doyle couldn’t remember. Probably Murph, who had been taking pictures, had loaded them into taxis with the rest of the flotsam.
**Should have asked Murph to see those pictures.** Getting up to stand and stare at the mutely offending letters that spelled SEASON’S GREETINGS, Doyle promptly forgot about the pictures as his mind turned to happier times when he and Bodie had spent all their time together. Those moments seemed so long ago that Doyle felt moisture come to his eyes but taking a deep breath, he promptly wiped them as if there had been an annoying eyelash and not heartache behind the dampness.
Doyle thought about contacting Josie then remembered she was scheduled to fly somewhere yesterday . . . or was it tomorrow. Too bored to even care, Doyle wandered through the flat, stopping to rinse a few dishes. Throwing the dish flannel into the sink in disgust, he reminded himself that this was his birthday, and he certainly wasn’t going to play maid right now.
Looking at the clock for what seemed like the thousandth time, he noticed that the hands had barely moved. Sighing he threw himself onto the settee and turned on the box. Unfortunately, that machine of infinite wisdom and education was handing out the same guff at an even lower level than usual so he switched off, throwing a pillow across the room in frustration. Some birthday!
Glancing over at the most irritating present in the world, Doyle decided enough was enough. He was not going to sit there and mope; maybe Susie would welcome him with open arms, although this was highly unlikely since she had chucked him out just Christmas and had not bothered to explain why. He had heard that Murph had been successful in shoving his oar in the door recently, but Murph was certainly no competition for the Doyle charm.
Grabbing his jacket, Doyle was just heading to the door when he decided that it was time to get that boil on his birthday arse out of sight. Picking up the SEASON’S GREETINGS pressie, he dumped it in the bedroom, returning to the sitting, prepared to try his luck with Susie.
As he opened the door, however, he stopped with an exaggerated jerk of surprise because standing in the doorway was William Andrew Philip Bodie. Not exactly sure how he felt towards his partner at the moment, Doyle demanded with more gruff than was necessary, “What you doin’ here?”
This obviously rattled Bodie slightly but he gamely held his place. Holding up a bottle of single malt, Bodie proudly announced, “Happy Birthday!”
This announcement unfortunately did little to pacify Doyle who had so recently had the run-in with the most irritating Christmas gift in Christendom so he was not prepared to be munificent in his welcome. Once again, he demanded too harshly, “So you remembered this time?”
Bodie’s left eyebrow shot up in recognition of the obvious ill-humour that his partner was displaying. He had not heard from his partner since Christmas and in his own mind, Doyle’s ill-humour could only be the result of one thing, but he gamely went on the offensive.
“You want this bottle or not?”
Doyle grabbed the bottle and instinctively stepped back which permitted the ex-merc to enter the door. “I thought you were still up north.”
“Nah, got back sometime ago.” Actually 3.7 had driven for several hours straight to get back to be with Doyle on his birthday, but he was not about to tell the angry man that. William Bodie had been an independent soul since his fourteenth birthday, and he was not about to show the scrawny individual in front of him how much he had missed him. Looking his partner over carefully, it was then that he noticed that Doyle was dressed to go out. “You goin’ somewhere?”
Screwing up his face in disbelief, Doyle replied with a large amount of sarcasm, “Now that’s a monumental deduction seein’ I got me jacket on and I was headin’ in the out direction when I opened the door.”
Looking crest-fallen, Bodie whispered, “You got a date?”
“Yeah, Susie’s dyin’ to give me a very happy birthday, if you get my meanin’.”
“Oh, thought she had given you the shove a few weeks ago.”
“Now what makes you think that, seein’ as how you haven’t been around for awhile?”
“Joanne told me that. I know you are gettin’ senile with your advanced age, but you do remember they are roommates?”
Mentioning Joanne’s name further fuelled Doyle’s ire as he pictured Joanne and Bodie discussing his love life. His face almost red with anger, Doyle’s sharp tongue blurted out, “You got so little to do with that bimbo that you spend your time discussin’ me?”
Bodie took a step back as if to fend off the fury that was Raymond Doyle. Staring at his partner, Bodie started to ask a question when Doyle continued, “I’ll thank you to not spend your time discussin’ me. You’re really one to talk anyhow, considering I haven’t heard from you since Christmas.”
Without thinking, Bodie burst out with, “And what about me Christmas pressie?”
Now that the magic words had been uttered, Doyle’s immediate thought was how could Bodie even consider that to be contact when he obviously took so little time with it that it looked like he had just thrown something together?
“My Christmas pressie? You dumb sod, you really put a lot of time into that, didn’t you? SEASON’S GREETINGS!!!! How impersonal can you get? I’m surprised you didn’t type it out when you were doin’ a report so that you didn’t have to touch it with your lily white hands.”
By this time Raymond Doyle was on a roll, his handsome face was red with anger; his sharp tongue was ready to slice Bodie’s words to pieces. He had a 30 minute rant ready for all the misery that his thoughtless partner had inflicted on him since Christmas, but all that was lost when Bodie whispered, “Season’s Greetings . . . what you talkin’ about?”
“I’ll show you what I’m talkin’ about since a moron like you can’t even remember the pressie you got me.” Walking quickly into the bedroom, Doyle grabbed the offending object and returned to the sitting room. Promptly shoving it into Bodie’s face, Doyle’s body spoke of the tension and anger that filled him.
Surprisingly, Bodie looked totally confused. “What’s this then? I didn’t give any of this wrapping to Joanne.”
Doyle pulled back the gift as if he had been slapped. “What you talkin’ about? You didn’t wrap this?” Now hurt shivered through his body as he realized that Bodie couldn’t even be bothered to wrap the offensive pressie.
Gingerly Bodie took the gift from Doyle’s quivering hand and stared at it as if it came from another planet. Then his deep blue eyes looked fearfully at Doyle as he admitted, “I bought everything to wrap it in style then I got called to go out to Windsor for some trivial matter so I asked Joanne to wrap it and give it to Murph to mail, that’s all.”
Doyle stared mutely at his partner, trying to decide if the idiot was worth talking to or if he should show him the door. Sighing, he decided to be altruistic on his birthday and give the lad another chance. Asking in a less aggressive manner, “Well, then how did this SEASON’S GREETINGS moronic rhetoric get on there?”
Bodie shook his handsome head then a light came into his eyes. “That’s exactly what I’m going to ask Murph.”
Bodie immediately went to the phone and placed a call to 6.2. “Murph, what the bloody hell happened to Doyle’s present, it looks like a bulldozer ran over it and that’s not the card I left behind.”
Bodie listened for several minutes, closing his eyes several times as the story unfolded. Doyle, of course, couldn’t hear Murph’s words, but looking at the varying reactions on Bodie’s face, Doyle could tell that this was going to be a beautiful rendition of what had happened.
Finally, Bodie put down the phone after vaguely threatening Murph for his part in the whole fiasco. Looking up at his partner, Bodie’s eyes reflected his concern with what had happened, but the only thing he said was, “She opened the box.”
Doyle frowned, completely at a loss to what Bodie was trying to say. Preparing to release all his anger and frustration on the tight-lipped moron who wouldn’t explain himself more precisely, he stopped when he saw Bodie collapse on the settee and knuckle his eyes. He was a figure of total dejection, and it left Doyle not really knowing what to do or say.
“I assume things got fouled up?” Doyle continued to stare at his partner only now realizing the implications of the fact that Bodie did not seem, on the surface, to be responsible for the hideous and sterile SEASON’S GREETINGS. Sighing, Doyle quietly asked, “What happened, mate?”
Instead of answering Doyle’s question, Bodie looked up after a moment with a strange look on his face, “Why didn’t you open the pressie?”
For a moment the question confounded Doyle, why had he refused to open the pressie? After all, Bodie had never given him a real pressie before. Why had the sterile, impersonal greeting bothered him so much? Was it because he wanted more from Bodie . . . something to show that he really cared for his partner, instead of making merry with that blond bimbo whose IQ was in single digits and was only attractive for her bedroom prowess? Doyle dropped his head as he realized that jealousy had played a huge part in his rage against the inoffensive packaging.
“Ray, are you mad at me?”
“What?” Doyle looked up at the question. Was he mad at Bodie because the dolt was so blind not to see what Doyle had realized so long ago . . . that he loved his own MALE partner?
Bodie looked incredibly luscious but unhappy. Doyle didn’t know what to say so he stared, hearing some words that added to his confusion and truly made no sense. “All this time, I thought you were mad at me because of the pressie, and now I find out you hadn’t even opened it.”
“Why . . . why would you give me a pressie that would make me mad at you?”
Giving a sigh that shook his whole body, William Bodie took the plunge as he whispered, “Because I had to know.”
“Had to know . . . what?”
Bodie shook his head and pursed his lips together for a moment then replied, “It isn’t worth it, give me back the pressie and I’ll be goin’.”
“No!” Without another word, Doyle ripped paper from the relatively small package. In it was a frame with a picture. Doyle recognized it immediately; it was a picture of Doyle and his partner at Alf Cole’s retirement party. Doyle smiled, seeing a rare moment when both partners were dressed in suits; Bodie looking so handsome in his blue blazer, and there was Doyle in his grey suit with the burgundy shirt. It was such an innocuous photo, why would it upset Bodie so much?
Doyle continued to stare at the photo for a long time, finally noticing that Bodie was on the edge of the settee, looking like he was prepared to bolt from the flat. Still not understanding what had upset his normally unflappable partner, Doyle looked up at his friend and asked, “What did Murph tell you?”
“Huh?” For a moment Bodie couldn’t understand what Doyle was asking then it came to him. “Oh, Murph told me that he had wrapped the package, and since he didn’t have much paper, he’s the one who threw it together with all ten of his thumbs.”
“Oi?” That didn’t seem too damning so what was all the tension about? Then it came to Doyle so he asked, “Why did Murph have to wrap it if you gave it to Joanne?”
Bodie closed his eyes, knowing the death knell of his relationship with Doyle was on the horizon. Why had he ever taken the chance of sending the photo? Might as well get it over with. “Because Joanne opened the box before she got ready to wrap it and when she saw the pressie, she flipped out and destroyed it. She refused to wrap it, threw it at Murph who was there visitin’ Susie, and he tried to repair the damage with another photo and more wrapping.”
Now the whole thing was beginning to make sense to Doyle, but why was Joanne so furious over the photo . . . it was just a picture of Bodie looking at Doyle . . .?
Doyle continued to stare at the seemingly innocuous picture of one friend staring at another friend. Suddenly shining warmth hit Doyle, stunning him for a moment. In the picture, Bodie was looking at Doyle with a look that could easily be described as . . . love. The affection on the handsome man’s face spoke volumes about his feelings for Doyle and that’s what Joanne must have noticed.
Somehow Murph had managed to catch that perfect moment-in-time when all of Bodie’s feelings for Doyle had been on display and it had infuriated Joanne. But why had Bodie wanted Doyle to have that precious moment as a gift? Doyle continued to stare at the photo for a long moment and then the obvious reason hit him in the face as he heard Bodie’s words again . . . Bodie wanted him to know.
Doyle was so stunned at the realization that he momentarily could only voice his reaction in one word, “Oh.”, but quickly his body was flooded by a warm feeling that made him feel the exhilaration of affection that was tied up in Bodie’s courageous action.
Not knowing quite what to do, Doyle continued to stare at the man who had become everything to him. Bodie’s head was hanging down as he continued to stare at the floor rather than face Doyle. Doyle knew that he would get no more from his mate so he would have to do it himself, but he decided to back off slightly and come from a different direction.
“I thought you and Joanne had spent our four days together at Christmas.”
Bodie looked up with mild surprise and guilt on his face. “I was intending to, but we only got to the preliminaries when I got called out to Windsor.”
Feeling devastated by the admission, Doyle’s dismay was manifested in anger as he burst forth with, “Then how come you sent me the pressie?”
Once again Bodie dropped his head as if the lie he had just told had given him an enormous headache. He shook his head and remained silent.
Ever so quietly, Doyle whispered, “You wanted to spend the time with me; didn’t you?”
Still looking at the floor, Bodie nodded, “I couldn’t face you, knowing you’d realize right away so I took the coward’s way out and had Murph send it.” Then looking up in defiance, Bodie burst forth with, “But I didn’t know Joanne would destroy it. Murph took a lot of pictures of us so I guess he had another one.”
Doyle nodded silently; his green eyes filling with affection as he looked towards the ex-merc who had the reputation for ruthlessness and practicality.
Doyle sighed quietly then responded, “I wish I had opened the pressie earlier, maybe I wouldn’t have been so angry with you.”
Bodie looked up his blue eyes drooping like a sad basset hound, “I knew you were angry since I heard nothing from you, but I thought it was ‘cause you saw the picture and were tryin’ to tell me that you were havin’ none of it and we were through as partners.”
Doyle frowned slightly, only now realizing how his silence during the last month had hurt and worried his friend. “And I hadn’t even seen the photo. I kept thinkin’ that you preferred Joanne to being with me, and that’s why I was angry. Not much of a holiday was it for either of us?”
Bodie shook his head slightly but remained silent.
Looking at the bottle of single malt, Doyle looked confused then shrugged and asked, “How come you brought me a birthday pressie, if you thought I was mad at you for the picture?”
Hesitating for what seemed like several minutes, Bodie repeated what he said earlier, “Had to know.”
Doyle smiled; his face lit up with happiness. Walking over to the settee, he looked down into his partner’s incredibly blue eyes and asked, “And do you know now?”
But Bodie did not respond the way that Doyle expected. Shaking his head slightly, he whispered, “Not unless you tell me straight out.”
Sitting down beside Bodie, Doyle moved so close that their thighs were touching each other. Doyle’s warmth and scent intoxicated Bodie; it always had. Moving his lips so that they were close to Bodie’s ear, Doyle whispered, “Listen you dumb crud; you’re mine and always have been. No more Joanne or any other bird. Do you hear?”
Bodie nodded then his next words showed that his insecurity was still there even after Doyle’s words, “But what about you?”
Pulling back slightly, Doyle’s green orbs stared at Bodie’s blue ones. “What about me?”
“You gonna keep seein’ Josie and every other female in the greater London area?”
Doyle smiled, thinking how adorable Bodie was. “The same goes for me, mate. It’s just you and me. We’re partners in everything, aren’t we?”
Now Bodie’s blue eyes brightened, the depths reflecting the love and affection that he felt for the man sitting next to him. “Yeah, I guess we are, Angelfish. Now, how about us celebratin’ your birthday?”
Doyle filled two glasses with some of the single malt then held up his glass in a toast. “To the best birthday I’ve ever had.” Bodie smiled as he thirstily drank down the liquid.
“I think it would be better, Raymond, if you celebrated your birthday in your birthday suit.”
For a moment, Doyle hesitated, his green eyes showing his confusion then realization flooded his flat. With a smile that lit his whole face, he whispered, “Yeah, come to think of it that would be a great idea and since it’s my birthday, I think you should be dressed or . . . undressed appropriately as well.”
Bodie stood, taking the slender man in his arms as he drew his partner to a standing position. “Whatever the birthday boy wants, he gets.”
Nuzzling his perfect nose into Bodie’s collarbone, Doyle mumbled, “Then I want us in the bedroom, undressed and you showin’ your good looks to me in less then two minutes.”
“Your wish is my command, master.” Kissing his partner with a gusto that took both their breath away, Bodie led his soon-to-be lover into the bedroom.
After doing their brief ablutions both men cuddled in bed, resting side by side. “Thanks for the pressie, both pressies, Bodie. I was so scared that I meant so little to you that those words, SEASON’S GREETINGS, reflected that lack of caring. “’M sorry for this last month.”
“’S all right, sunshine. You got the rest of our lives to make it up to me.”
“The rest of our lives, ”‘s that right?”
“Ta, that’s what I said; so if you got any other thoughts then you better change ‘em.”
“Wasn’t plannin’ on changin’ ‘em; just imaginin’ all the pressies I’ll get for me birthday now that I’ve got you trained to give ‘em to me.”
For a moment Bodie stared at his lover then he smiled as he whispered against the cupid’s bow lips, “Well here’s the first one on account for the next 50 years of our lives.” Silence was heard across the flat as Bodie gave his mate a mind-blowing kiss only barely managing to whisper, “Happy Birthday!” at the end of it.
The End
Title: Season’s Greetings
Author: lbc
Pairing: B/D
Rating: Slash
Note: This is to celebrate the birthday of MS. Happy Birthday to our lad.
SEASON’S GREETINGS!
Doyle looked at the package AGAIN. That’s what it said. That’s what that bloody Bodie had put on his package. What a pressie for your best mate’s Christmas!
Ray Doyle dropped his head to his chest and remembered the day the package had arrived in the mail. It was the SAME DAY that Bodie had taken off for the Christmas holidays with that bimbo, Jean or Jane or June or whatever. Doyle had been looking forward to spending some time with his best mate during the first Christmas that they hadn’t had to work in a very long time . . . and then the clod rushes off to be with what’s her name.
Doyle had been so furious that he had refused to open the package. It had remained on the small table in his faux foyer since it had arrived. He read the words, SEASON’S GREETINGS every day when he got home. It had become like a thorn exacerbating his flesh, but it also kept his irritation with his partner going.
He had not seen Bodie since before Christmas because the partners had gone solo for the last few weeks. First, Bodie was sent out on the Jamison case while Doyle had to remain in London to testify during several cases going to trial, and then Bodie was sent north to Manchester to work with the locals there on some potential terrorists activities while Doyle had had to act as a substitute for various agents who had fallen ill with the seasonal flu that was going around.
The weather had taken a nosedive and was miserable. The flu season was in high gear with resources spread thinner and thinner and Doyle was without his partner. Of course, part of this was of his own making. He might have got in contact with his partner; he wasn’t undercover or anything, but to spite his own face, Doyle had chosen not to make the effort. Bodie didn’t care about him; he’d just sent a ratty looking package for Christmas with that mundane, ordinary, barely civil greeting.
Of course, if Ray Doyle had wanted to be honest, he should have been pleased that Bodie had even sent a pressie since that was not their usual practice at Christmas time. In fact, they usually spent the time working for CI5 either relieving other agents at headquarters or out on the streets, but it was the principle of the thing and Doyle refused to accept that Bodie had just taken off with Jean whatever and left him behind.
Ray Doyle was normally a brutally honest man, especially with himself, but he refused to admit that he was being petty and even worse that he was jealous that Bodie had put what’s her name before himself in his attentions. They could have had four whole days doing things and yet Bodie had chosen June with whom to have his wicked way. If Doyle was not seeing things through the green coloured veil of jealousy, he would have had to admit that there was very little competition between a warm, luscious, willing female body, and a scrawny, hairy, muscled male body, but Ray Doyle had no intention of being honest with himself or anyone else.
He had heard nothing from Bodie in over three weeks which proved that the lazy clod didn’t care about him. There had been times that he really thought that maybe Bodie had finally got the idea. Certainly Doyle had been putting out enough feelers and vibes, but the dumb crud had ignored them all and run off with that bimbo.
Today was his birthday and not one peep from his straying partner. He had tried to pump Murph on Bodie’s whereabouts. That wasn’t easy because Murph, notwithstanding that brown hair always in his eyes was very perceptive about the goings on at CI5, but he was dating Susie, Jane whatever’s roommate. The information was little, but he did determine that Bodie was still on the job in the North.
What a raunchy way to spend a birthday. He had tried to bolster himself with a pint at his local and some grub, but it wasn’t the same without his partner there to make him laugh. Even a pack of beer and some takeaway at his flat would have been better if Bodie had been there.
Doyle sighed and told himself to stop being such a wimp. He had been a loner all of his life . . . at least, until he had met with William Andrew Philip Bodie some five years ago. When had the dark-haired ex-merc become so important in his life? When had he ceased to be able to be happy with just himself and independent of that blue-eyed imp who had saved his life so many times?
By the time Mayli had put two bullets into him, Doyle knew he was lost, and that his relationship with his partner would never be the same . . . only why hadn’t Bodie got the message? Bodie had been there for him every step of his long recovery. In fact, some days, it was only seeing Bodie walking through his hospital room door that had kept him going. Now some bird had dragged his best mate away and Bodie hadn’t struggled a bit.
Sitting on the settee he could see the infamous package and the hideous greetings in the dim distance. How many times had he felt like picking up the package and heaving it across the room? It looked like a rush job with little thought to wrapping it carefully. Obviously, Bodie was trying to tell him something but why had he sent the package in the first place?
It had been so long since he had seen his partner that he was expecting Cowley to call him in any day and tell him that Bodie had requested a change in partners. That would be so typical of the crud. He was a loner and had moved on from many jobs in his short 33 years of life.
Some birthday! Looking at the clock, he saw that there were still almost four hours left of the most miserable day of his life (not excluding Mayli). What could he do for the next four hours? If he had a large picture of that blue-eyed bastard, he would practice darts, but for some reason, his partner always shied away from cameras. In fact, the last picture Doyle knew about was at Alf Cole’s retirement party last fall. It had been a magical night. Both he and Bodie had been drunker than any skunk that ever lived. How they had got home that night, Doyle couldn’t remember. Probably Murph, who had been taking pictures, had loaded them into taxis with the rest of the flotsam.
**Should have asked Murph to see those pictures.** Getting up to stand and stare at the mutely offending letters that spelled SEASON’S GREETINGS, Doyle promptly forgot about the pictures as his mind turned to happier times when he and Bodie had spent all their time together. Those moments seemed so long ago that Doyle felt moisture come to his eyes but taking a deep breath, he promptly wiped them as if there had been an annoying eyelash and not heartache behind the dampness.
Doyle thought about contacting Josie then remembered she was scheduled to fly somewhere yesterday . . . or was it tomorrow. Too bored to even care, Doyle wandered through the flat, stopping to rinse a few dishes. Throwing the dish flannel into the sink in disgust, he reminded himself that this was his birthday, and he certainly wasn’t going to play maid right now.
Looking at the clock for what seemed like the thousandth time, he noticed that the hands had barely moved. Sighing he threw himself onto the settee and turned on the box. Unfortunately, that machine of infinite wisdom and education was handing out the same guff at an even lower level than usual so he switched off, throwing a pillow across the room in frustration. Some birthday!
Glancing over at the most irritating present in the world, Doyle decided enough was enough. He was not going to sit there and mope; maybe Susie would welcome him with open arms, although this was highly unlikely since she had chucked him out just Christmas and had not bothered to explain why. He had heard that Murph had been successful in shoving his oar in the door recently, but Murph was certainly no competition for the Doyle charm.
Grabbing his jacket, Doyle was just heading to the door when he decided that it was time to get that boil on his birthday arse out of sight. Picking up the SEASON’S GREETINGS pressie, he dumped it in the bedroom, returning to the sitting, prepared to try his luck with Susie.
As he opened the door, however, he stopped with an exaggerated jerk of surprise because standing in the doorway was William Andrew Philip Bodie. Not exactly sure how he felt towards his partner at the moment, Doyle demanded with more gruff than was necessary, “What you doin’ here?”
This obviously rattled Bodie slightly but he gamely held his place. Holding up a bottle of single malt, Bodie proudly announced, “Happy Birthday!”
This announcement unfortunately did little to pacify Doyle who had so recently had the run-in with the most irritating Christmas gift in Christendom so he was not prepared to be munificent in his welcome. Once again, he demanded too harshly, “So you remembered this time?”
Bodie’s left eyebrow shot up in recognition of the obvious ill-humour that his partner was displaying. He had not heard from his partner since Christmas and in his own mind, Doyle’s ill-humour could only be the result of one thing, but he gamely went on the offensive.
“You want this bottle or not?”
Doyle grabbed the bottle and instinctively stepped back which permitted the ex-merc to enter the door. “I thought you were still up north.”
“Nah, got back sometime ago.” Actually 3.7 had driven for several hours straight to get back to be with Doyle on his birthday, but he was not about to tell the angry man that. William Bodie had been an independent soul since his fourteenth birthday, and he was not about to show the scrawny individual in front of him how much he had missed him. Looking his partner over carefully, it was then that he noticed that Doyle was dressed to go out. “You goin’ somewhere?”
Screwing up his face in disbelief, Doyle replied with a large amount of sarcasm, “Now that’s a monumental deduction seein’ I got me jacket on and I was headin’ in the out direction when I opened the door.”
Looking crest-fallen, Bodie whispered, “You got a date?”
“Yeah, Susie’s dyin’ to give me a very happy birthday, if you get my meanin’.”
“Oh, thought she had given you the shove a few weeks ago.”
“Now what makes you think that, seein’ as how you haven’t been around for awhile?”
“Joanne told me that. I know you are gettin’ senile with your advanced age, but you do remember they are roommates?”
Mentioning Joanne’s name further fuelled Doyle’s ire as he pictured Joanne and Bodie discussing his love life. His face almost red with anger, Doyle’s sharp tongue blurted out, “You got so little to do with that bimbo that you spend your time discussin’ me?”
Bodie took a step back as if to fend off the fury that was Raymond Doyle. Staring at his partner, Bodie started to ask a question when Doyle continued, “I’ll thank you to not spend your time discussin’ me. You’re really one to talk anyhow, considering I haven’t heard from you since Christmas.”
Without thinking, Bodie burst out with, “And what about me Christmas pressie?”
Now that the magic words had been uttered, Doyle’s immediate thought was how could Bodie even consider that to be contact when he obviously took so little time with it that it looked like he had just thrown something together?
“My Christmas pressie? You dumb sod, you really put a lot of time into that, didn’t you? SEASON’S GREETINGS!!!! How impersonal can you get? I’m surprised you didn’t type it out when you were doin’ a report so that you didn’t have to touch it with your lily white hands.”
By this time Raymond Doyle was on a roll, his handsome face was red with anger; his sharp tongue was ready to slice Bodie’s words to pieces. He had a 30 minute rant ready for all the misery that his thoughtless partner had inflicted on him since Christmas, but all that was lost when Bodie whispered, “Season’s Greetings . . . what you talkin’ about?”
“I’ll show you what I’m talkin’ about since a moron like you can’t even remember the pressie you got me.” Walking quickly into the bedroom, Doyle grabbed the offending object and returned to the sitting room. Promptly shoving it into Bodie’s face, Doyle’s body spoke of the tension and anger that filled him.
Surprisingly, Bodie looked totally confused. “What’s this then? I didn’t give any of this wrapping to Joanne.”
Doyle pulled back the gift as if he had been slapped. “What you talkin’ about? You didn’t wrap this?” Now hurt shivered through his body as he realized that Bodie couldn’t even be bothered to wrap the offensive pressie.
Gingerly Bodie took the gift from Doyle’s quivering hand and stared at it as if it came from another planet. Then his deep blue eyes looked fearfully at Doyle as he admitted, “I bought everything to wrap it in style then I got called to go out to Windsor for some trivial matter so I asked Joanne to wrap it and give it to Murph to mail, that’s all.”
Doyle stared mutely at his partner, trying to decide if the idiot was worth talking to or if he should show him the door. Sighing, he decided to be altruistic on his birthday and give the lad another chance. Asking in a less aggressive manner, “Well, then how did this SEASON’S GREETINGS moronic rhetoric get on there?”
Bodie shook his handsome head then a light came into his eyes. “That’s exactly what I’m going to ask Murph.”
Bodie immediately went to the phone and placed a call to 6.2. “Murph, what the bloody hell happened to Doyle’s present, it looks like a bulldozer ran over it and that’s not the card I left behind.”
Bodie listened for several minutes, closing his eyes several times as the story unfolded. Doyle, of course, couldn’t hear Murph’s words, but looking at the varying reactions on Bodie’s face, Doyle could tell that this was going to be a beautiful rendition of what had happened.
Finally, Bodie put down the phone after vaguely threatening Murph for his part in the whole fiasco. Looking up at his partner, Bodie’s eyes reflected his concern with what had happened, but the only thing he said was, “She opened the box.”
Doyle frowned, completely at a loss to what Bodie was trying to say. Preparing to release all his anger and frustration on the tight-lipped moron who wouldn’t explain himself more precisely, he stopped when he saw Bodie collapse on the settee and knuckle his eyes. He was a figure of total dejection, and it left Doyle not really knowing what to do or say.
“I assume things got fouled up?” Doyle continued to stare at his partner only now realizing the implications of the fact that Bodie did not seem, on the surface, to be responsible for the hideous and sterile SEASON’S GREETINGS. Sighing, Doyle quietly asked, “What happened, mate?”
Instead of answering Doyle’s question, Bodie looked up after a moment with a strange look on his face, “Why didn’t you open the pressie?”
For a moment the question confounded Doyle, why had he refused to open the pressie? After all, Bodie had never given him a real pressie before. Why had the sterile, impersonal greeting bothered him so much? Was it because he wanted more from Bodie . . . something to show that he really cared for his partner, instead of making merry with that blond bimbo whose IQ was in single digits and was only attractive for her bedroom prowess? Doyle dropped his head as he realized that jealousy had played a huge part in his rage against the inoffensive packaging.
“Ray, are you mad at me?”
“What?” Doyle looked up at the question. Was he mad at Bodie because the dolt was so blind not to see what Doyle had realized so long ago . . . that he loved his own MALE partner?
Bodie looked incredibly luscious but unhappy. Doyle didn’t know what to say so he stared, hearing some words that added to his confusion and truly made no sense. “All this time, I thought you were mad at me because of the pressie, and now I find out you hadn’t even opened it.”
“Why . . . why would you give me a pressie that would make me mad at you?”
Giving a sigh that shook his whole body, William Bodie took the plunge as he whispered, “Because I had to know.”
“Had to know . . . what?”
Bodie shook his head and pursed his lips together for a moment then replied, “It isn’t worth it, give me back the pressie and I’ll be goin’.”
“No!” Without another word, Doyle ripped paper from the relatively small package. In it was a frame with a picture. Doyle recognized it immediately; it was a picture of Doyle and his partner at Alf Cole’s retirement party. Doyle smiled, seeing a rare moment when both partners were dressed in suits; Bodie looking so handsome in his blue blazer, and there was Doyle in his grey suit with the burgundy shirt. It was such an innocuous photo, why would it upset Bodie so much?
Doyle continued to stare at the photo for a long time, finally noticing that Bodie was on the edge of the settee, looking like he was prepared to bolt from the flat. Still not understanding what had upset his normally unflappable partner, Doyle looked up at his friend and asked, “What did Murph tell you?”
“Huh?” For a moment Bodie couldn’t understand what Doyle was asking then it came to him. “Oh, Murph told me that he had wrapped the package, and since he didn’t have much paper, he’s the one who threw it together with all ten of his thumbs.”
“Oi?” That didn’t seem too damning so what was all the tension about? Then it came to Doyle so he asked, “Why did Murph have to wrap it if you gave it to Joanne?”
Bodie closed his eyes, knowing the death knell of his relationship with Doyle was on the horizon. Why had he ever taken the chance of sending the photo? Might as well get it over with. “Because Joanne opened the box before she got ready to wrap it and when she saw the pressie, she flipped out and destroyed it. She refused to wrap it, threw it at Murph who was there visitin’ Susie, and he tried to repair the damage with another photo and more wrapping.”
Now the whole thing was beginning to make sense to Doyle, but why was Joanne so furious over the photo . . . it was just a picture of Bodie looking at Doyle . . .?
Doyle continued to stare at the seemingly innocuous picture of one friend staring at another friend. Suddenly shining warmth hit Doyle, stunning him for a moment. In the picture, Bodie was looking at Doyle with a look that could easily be described as . . . love. The affection on the handsome man’s face spoke volumes about his feelings for Doyle and that’s what Joanne must have noticed.
Somehow Murph had managed to catch that perfect moment-in-time when all of Bodie’s feelings for Doyle had been on display and it had infuriated Joanne. But why had Bodie wanted Doyle to have that precious moment as a gift? Doyle continued to stare at the photo for a long moment and then the obvious reason hit him in the face as he heard Bodie’s words again . . . Bodie wanted him to know.
Doyle was so stunned at the realization that he momentarily could only voice his reaction in one word, “Oh.”, but quickly his body was flooded by a warm feeling that made him feel the exhilaration of affection that was tied up in Bodie’s courageous action.
Not knowing quite what to do, Doyle continued to stare at the man who had become everything to him. Bodie’s head was hanging down as he continued to stare at the floor rather than face Doyle. Doyle knew that he would get no more from his mate so he would have to do it himself, but he decided to back off slightly and come from a different direction.
“I thought you and Joanne had spent our four days together at Christmas.”
Bodie looked up with mild surprise and guilt on his face. “I was intending to, but we only got to the preliminaries when I got called out to Windsor.”
Feeling devastated by the admission, Doyle’s dismay was manifested in anger as he burst forth with, “Then how come you sent me the pressie?”
Once again Bodie dropped his head as if the lie he had just told had given him an enormous headache. He shook his head and remained silent.
Ever so quietly, Doyle whispered, “You wanted to spend the time with me; didn’t you?”
Still looking at the floor, Bodie nodded, “I couldn’t face you, knowing you’d realize right away so I took the coward’s way out and had Murph send it.” Then looking up in defiance, Bodie burst forth with, “But I didn’t know Joanne would destroy it. Murph took a lot of pictures of us so I guess he had another one.”
Doyle nodded silently; his green eyes filling with affection as he looked towards the ex-merc who had the reputation for ruthlessness and practicality.
Doyle sighed quietly then responded, “I wish I had opened the pressie earlier, maybe I wouldn’t have been so angry with you.”
Bodie looked up his blue eyes drooping like a sad basset hound, “I knew you were angry since I heard nothing from you, but I thought it was ‘cause you saw the picture and were tryin’ to tell me that you were havin’ none of it and we were through as partners.”
Doyle frowned slightly, only now realizing how his silence during the last month had hurt and worried his friend. “And I hadn’t even seen the photo. I kept thinkin’ that you preferred Joanne to being with me, and that’s why I was angry. Not much of a holiday was it for either of us?”
Bodie shook his head slightly but remained silent.
Looking at the bottle of single malt, Doyle looked confused then shrugged and asked, “How come you brought me a birthday pressie, if you thought I was mad at you for the picture?”
Hesitating for what seemed like several minutes, Bodie repeated what he said earlier, “Had to know.”
Doyle smiled; his face lit up with happiness. Walking over to the settee, he looked down into his partner’s incredibly blue eyes and asked, “And do you know now?”
But Bodie did not respond the way that Doyle expected. Shaking his head slightly, he whispered, “Not unless you tell me straight out.”
Sitting down beside Bodie, Doyle moved so close that their thighs were touching each other. Doyle’s warmth and scent intoxicated Bodie; it always had. Moving his lips so that they were close to Bodie’s ear, Doyle whispered, “Listen you dumb crud; you’re mine and always have been. No more Joanne or any other bird. Do you hear?”
Bodie nodded then his next words showed that his insecurity was still there even after Doyle’s words, “But what about you?”
Pulling back slightly, Doyle’s green orbs stared at Bodie’s blue ones. “What about me?”
“You gonna keep seein’ Josie and every other female in the greater London area?”
Doyle smiled, thinking how adorable Bodie was. “The same goes for me, mate. It’s just you and me. We’re partners in everything, aren’t we?”
Now Bodie’s blue eyes brightened, the depths reflecting the love and affection that he felt for the man sitting next to him. “Yeah, I guess we are, Angelfish. Now, how about us celebratin’ your birthday?”
Doyle filled two glasses with some of the single malt then held up his glass in a toast. “To the best birthday I’ve ever had.” Bodie smiled as he thirstily drank down the liquid.
“I think it would be better, Raymond, if you celebrated your birthday in your birthday suit.”
For a moment, Doyle hesitated, his green eyes showing his confusion then realization flooded his flat. With a smile that lit his whole face, he whispered, “Yeah, come to think of it that would be a great idea and since it’s my birthday, I think you should be dressed or . . . undressed appropriately as well.”
Bodie stood, taking the slender man in his arms as he drew his partner to a standing position. “Whatever the birthday boy wants, he gets.”
Nuzzling his perfect nose into Bodie’s collarbone, Doyle mumbled, “Then I want us in the bedroom, undressed and you showin’ your good looks to me in less then two minutes.”
“Your wish is my command, master.” Kissing his partner with a gusto that took both their breath away, Bodie led his soon-to-be lover into the bedroom.
After doing their brief ablutions both men cuddled in bed, resting side by side. “Thanks for the pressie, both pressies, Bodie. I was so scared that I meant so little to you that those words, SEASON’S GREETINGS, reflected that lack of caring. “’M sorry for this last month.”
“’S all right, sunshine. You got the rest of our lives to make it up to me.”
“The rest of our lives, ”‘s that right?”
“Ta, that’s what I said; so if you got any other thoughts then you better change ‘em.”
“Wasn’t plannin’ on changin’ ‘em; just imaginin’ all the pressies I’ll get for me birthday now that I’ve got you trained to give ‘em to me.”
For a moment Bodie stared at his lover then he smiled as he whispered against the cupid’s bow lips, “Well here’s the first one on account for the next 50 years of our lives.” Silence was heard across the flat as Bodie gave his mate a mind-blowing kiss only barely managing to whisper, “Happy Birthday!” at the end of it.
The End