Fiction: Seeing You As You Are
This is a short story that I wrote for a Professionals' site challenge.
Title: Seeing You As You Are
Author: lbc
Pairing: the gorgeous Golli and his handsome friend
Rating: slash
Summary: Ray sees Bodie as he is
Follows the episode: Fugitive
Note: This is to honor the anniversary of Angelfish Fan Fiction - Happy Anniversary
4.5 mounted the stairs to his flat three at a time. Even though the lift was working - - for once - - the angry man felt the need to conquer the stairs. He also needed to bash his partner’s face in, but had refused himself the pleasure of doing so. So he had avoided his partner instead. Allowing Bodie to come in with Cowley, Doyle had managed to hitch a ride with some of the “sharpshooters” who had failed to take out Dreisinger before he had pushed the button which had almost incinerated the two CI5 agents.
Doyle’s anger was not reserved for the agents who had so badly bungled the exchange. No, it was reserved for the hostage - - his partner, who had run away with fifteen pounds of explosives tied to his body.
The curly-haired, slender figure was as dangerous as any explosive at the moment as he opened the door, set the locks and flung himself into the nearest chair, preparing to throw the pout of the century. His partner had been prepared to throw his life away . . . to save George Cowley’s mission of getting one more terrorist group!
Ray Doyle’s temper was legendary in CI5, but it had rarely, at least in the past few years, been turned on his partner, but the dumb crud really deserved it this time. Doyle had been so sure that he would say and do irreparable damage to the partnership that he had rushed to headquarters to finish his report so that he would not have to confront the biggest moron that ever walked the earth. **How could Bodie ever believe that any mission was worth his life?**
Suddenly, the slender body felt exhausted. His hair felt gritty from the dust kicked up by the explosion; his clothes felt grimy from the gas canisters that had exploded, helping to divert the terrorists; his body and clothes ponged from the effort made in his run to catch the biggest idiot in the world.
Images kept running through Doyle’s brain were driven by the sight of welts and bruises covering the handsome face, as he remembered his partner standing near the lorry and hearing Dreisinger’s taunts about the use of the wrong frequency from the R/T’s in the area.
Leaning his head against the back of the chair, Doyle tried to find the strength to get up and make a cuppa or take a shower, but his body failed him; so he sat . . . and sat. The evening grew later and later as the green eyes closed, but the mind remained active as it planned scenario after scenario in how to retaliate against the man who would give up his life for George Cowley and leave his partner bereft of his presence in his life.
**Bodie’s my life, why can’t he understand that?**
Sighing the exhausted man got up, heading towards the bathroom. His peripheral vision told him the date on the calendar that he had stuck up on the wall. The slender shoulders slumped even further. He had forgotten the date, but now it came back to haunt him. Looking at his watch, he realized that in exactly 50 minutes, it would be the anniversary of the day the two men became partners four years before.
Mumbling to himself, the grief poured over the tired man, “Great, just great. Why do I put up with you, mate?” Unconsciously removing his beige jacket, Doyle moved to unbutton more of the buttons on his burgundy-coloured shirt, but stopped when the security buzzer began to reverberate through the flat. The cacophony was horrendous as Doyle moved to quell it, knowing full well who was at the other end.
“Get off the buzzer, Bodie and go away; it’s late and I’m tired.”
An angry and cold voice replied, “’M not leavin’ until we’ve had this out so open the door!”
“What you got to be upset about? I’m goin’ to bed. Yer botherin’ the neighbours and George won’t like that.” Doyle heard the sarcasm in his voice, but did nothing to blunt his shredded feelings.
Hearing a sigh through the sensitive speaker, Doyle waited, hoping that the mere threat of the Cow’s displeasure would send his partner packing, but that obviously hadn’t dented the handsome man’s anger when a sound much like a battering ram hit the door.
**Why doesn’t he use his key?** That thought immediately brought forth the memory of Bodie’s recent captivity. The thought was acknowledged almost immediately with 3.7’s shout, “I don’t have my key, you moron. I’m givin’ you one last chance before I break down the door.”
Knowing useless resistance when he heard it, Doyle buzzed the irate man into the building. Within seconds, it seemed, Bodie was at the door of his flat with Doyle staring at him. “What you want?”
The dark-haired man took a deep breath, making an effort to keep his temper. “You ran out on me, you moron! What were you thinkin’?”
**If you only knew, Sunshine.**
Green eyes stared into furious blue eyes as Doyle, for once, measured what he said, “Figured you and George would have lots to say, and I’d had enough for one day. Not pleasant thinkin’ that my screw up might’ve cost your life.”
For a moment, the handsome man stood there obviously confused then hesitantly he questioned, “The Cow told you that our charade had been spotted?”
The auburn curls merely nodded as Doyle walked unsteadily back to the settee. The adrenalin that had kept him going was gone; Bodie was safe and one more terrorist gang was put out of action but there was no exhilaration this time - - just numbness that Bodie would run away from his partner to keep the Cow and the Op from being destroyed.
Bodie shuffled over to a chair across the room. It was obvious in every movement that he was hurting. **Why is he here? It’s not every day that a man is taken captive, and almost blown up for Queen and Country?**
Remembering the ghastly time that Bodie had had, Doyle forced himself into seeing Bodie in a different light. Doyle had seen him exuberant when he had saved Nurse Bolding; wounded when he had been knifed; in love when he had played with fire in the guise of Marikka; sarcastic when he tried to bluff their way through the loss of Cowley’s desk, but now it was all down to one thing: Bodie had chosen to run away to save Cowley’s life and the CI5 Op with no thought to what it would do to the man who adored William Bodie . . . his partner, Ray Doyle.
There was silence in the room as the minutes ticked away then Doyle remembered his manners and whispered, “Want a cuppa?”
“Rather have a drink.”
“No!”
Looking up quickly, the blue eyes were full of even more confusion. “Why not, you mad at me or somethin’?”
At that moment Doyle’s efforts to hold back his feelings failed. Standing up so fast that it almost made him dizzy, he shouted at the git who failed to understand anything, “Of course, I’m angry, you dumb crud. It’s not every day that a mate, me partner tries to kill himself just to save some Op and George Cowley’s neck. I knew that you admired him, but I didn’t think that . . . “
There he stopped, unable to go further. To say more would be to admit his feelings and his fear that George Cowley truly did mean more to William Bodie than Ray Doyle did. So he stopped, his voice quivering and then taking a deep breath, he threw out the only excuse that seemed to make sense in their chaotic world of kill or be killed, “Sides it’s our anniversary and you forgot.”
A strange quirky smile graced the gorgeous lips as deep blue eyes looked up at Doyle, “I forgot, did I? Now why would I be bringing you a pressie . . . if I forgot?”
Doyle’s deep green eyes widened in amazement - - not only because Bodie remembered the anniversary, but that it meant enough to him that he would do something about it. Shyly, the slender man whispered, “What you mean . . . a pressie?”
Bodie gave a sad smile, “I will say this slowly so that you can understand, Sunshine. I-brought-a-pressie-to-remember-our-anniversary.”
Doyle was confused and his next words reflected that, “Why’d ya do that?”
Bodie shook his neatly trimmed hair, “Because you crud, you mean a lot to me. I didn’t run away to save Cowley or the Op or Christine or anybody else . . . just you. I didn’t want to risk you gettin’ caught in the blast.” Here the ex-merc stopped obviously embarrassed by the emotion that was evident in his voice. He dropped his head, trying to avoid the green orbs which had widened in disbelief.
Doyle stood staring at the man who had come to mean so much to him. He was speechless. They had been partners for four years, and now The Hard Man confessed that he would prefer his own death to endangering Doyle. The slender figure canted his hip as he tried to organize his thoughts but it was impossible - - Bodie cared about him. Mr. Cool cared about someone and it happened to be his partner.
Finally, Doyle found his voice, “Bodie . . . I . . .” He stopped to try again then he asked the question that was suddenly uppermost, “What pressie?”
Blue eyes looked up in confusion then cleared, “Ta, what do ya think . . . me!”
For a sickening moment the auburn haired agent thought it had all been a joke then his body was wrapped in the long arms of his partner, and he was being hugged until he couldn’t breathe.
Somehow Doyle managed to squeeze out, “Bodie, I can’t breathe”, which resulted in a slight lessening of the pressure against his chest. Pulling his upper body back slightly, green eyes looked deeply into blue eyes. “That’s a great anniversary present. Thanks, mate.”
Bodie stepped back, releasing his partner. The two agents stood within arms length of each other, but it was obvious that the taller man was waiting, expecting something from Doyle.
“What is it, mate? If it’s an apology, ‘m sorry, I thought that it was the Cow that you were so worried about. You mean everything to me, and when I thought that you would run away to protect him and endanger yourself, I was off me top. Guess I should have talked to you first?”
Something in what Doyle had just said must have been the right thing because Bodie merely nodded, taking the slender body back into his embrace, showing his approval with a long, breath-taking kiss.
“Ray Doyle, I yelled at you to stay away from me when I was running. If you ever do a crazy thing like that again, I will never forgive you. I couldn’t stand to lose you.”
“’M sorry, Sunshine, but I don’t want you ever doin’ that again. We are in this together . . . no matter what; so if you run away, I’ll always follow . . . that’s a promise.”
Shaking his dark head as if Doyle had a screw loose, Bodie kissed his soon-to-be-lover.
“Come on, love; let’s go open your present.”
So, a few minutes after the bewitching hour that began their anniversary, the celebration began.
The End - Happy Anniversary to the lads. Thanks to AngelFishFanFiction for hosting our thoughts and stories.
Title: Seeing You As You Are
Author: lbc
Pairing: the gorgeous Golli and his handsome friend
Rating: slash
Summary: Ray sees Bodie as he is
Follows the episode: Fugitive
Note: This is to honor the anniversary of Angelfish Fan Fiction - Happy Anniversary
4.5 mounted the stairs to his flat three at a time. Even though the lift was working - - for once - - the angry man felt the need to conquer the stairs. He also needed to bash his partner’s face in, but had refused himself the pleasure of doing so. So he had avoided his partner instead. Allowing Bodie to come in with Cowley, Doyle had managed to hitch a ride with some of the “sharpshooters” who had failed to take out Dreisinger before he had pushed the button which had almost incinerated the two CI5 agents.
Doyle’s anger was not reserved for the agents who had so badly bungled the exchange. No, it was reserved for the hostage - - his partner, who had run away with fifteen pounds of explosives tied to his body.
The curly-haired, slender figure was as dangerous as any explosive at the moment as he opened the door, set the locks and flung himself into the nearest chair, preparing to throw the pout of the century. His partner had been prepared to throw his life away . . . to save George Cowley’s mission of getting one more terrorist group!
Ray Doyle’s temper was legendary in CI5, but it had rarely, at least in the past few years, been turned on his partner, but the dumb crud really deserved it this time. Doyle had been so sure that he would say and do irreparable damage to the partnership that he had rushed to headquarters to finish his report so that he would not have to confront the biggest moron that ever walked the earth. **How could Bodie ever believe that any mission was worth his life?**
Suddenly, the slender body felt exhausted. His hair felt gritty from the dust kicked up by the explosion; his clothes felt grimy from the gas canisters that had exploded, helping to divert the terrorists; his body and clothes ponged from the effort made in his run to catch the biggest idiot in the world.
Images kept running through Doyle’s brain were driven by the sight of welts and bruises covering the handsome face, as he remembered his partner standing near the lorry and hearing Dreisinger’s taunts about the use of the wrong frequency from the R/T’s in the area.
Leaning his head against the back of the chair, Doyle tried to find the strength to get up and make a cuppa or take a shower, but his body failed him; so he sat . . . and sat. The evening grew later and later as the green eyes closed, but the mind remained active as it planned scenario after scenario in how to retaliate against the man who would give up his life for George Cowley and leave his partner bereft of his presence in his life.
**Bodie’s my life, why can’t he understand that?**
Sighing the exhausted man got up, heading towards the bathroom. His peripheral vision told him the date on the calendar that he had stuck up on the wall. The slender shoulders slumped even further. He had forgotten the date, but now it came back to haunt him. Looking at his watch, he realized that in exactly 50 minutes, it would be the anniversary of the day the two men became partners four years before.
Mumbling to himself, the grief poured over the tired man, “Great, just great. Why do I put up with you, mate?” Unconsciously removing his beige jacket, Doyle moved to unbutton more of the buttons on his burgundy-coloured shirt, but stopped when the security buzzer began to reverberate through the flat. The cacophony was horrendous as Doyle moved to quell it, knowing full well who was at the other end.
“Get off the buzzer, Bodie and go away; it’s late and I’m tired.”
An angry and cold voice replied, “’M not leavin’ until we’ve had this out so open the door!”
“What you got to be upset about? I’m goin’ to bed. Yer botherin’ the neighbours and George won’t like that.” Doyle heard the sarcasm in his voice, but did nothing to blunt his shredded feelings.
Hearing a sigh through the sensitive speaker, Doyle waited, hoping that the mere threat of the Cow’s displeasure would send his partner packing, but that obviously hadn’t dented the handsome man’s anger when a sound much like a battering ram hit the door.
**Why doesn’t he use his key?** That thought immediately brought forth the memory of Bodie’s recent captivity. The thought was acknowledged almost immediately with 3.7’s shout, “I don’t have my key, you moron. I’m givin’ you one last chance before I break down the door.”
Knowing useless resistance when he heard it, Doyle buzzed the irate man into the building. Within seconds, it seemed, Bodie was at the door of his flat with Doyle staring at him. “What you want?”
The dark-haired man took a deep breath, making an effort to keep his temper. “You ran out on me, you moron! What were you thinkin’?”
**If you only knew, Sunshine.**
Green eyes stared into furious blue eyes as Doyle, for once, measured what he said, “Figured you and George would have lots to say, and I’d had enough for one day. Not pleasant thinkin’ that my screw up might’ve cost your life.”
For a moment, the handsome man stood there obviously confused then hesitantly he questioned, “The Cow told you that our charade had been spotted?”
The auburn curls merely nodded as Doyle walked unsteadily back to the settee. The adrenalin that had kept him going was gone; Bodie was safe and one more terrorist gang was put out of action but there was no exhilaration this time - - just numbness that Bodie would run away from his partner to keep the Cow and the Op from being destroyed.
Bodie shuffled over to a chair across the room. It was obvious in every movement that he was hurting. **Why is he here? It’s not every day that a man is taken captive, and almost blown up for Queen and Country?**
Remembering the ghastly time that Bodie had had, Doyle forced himself into seeing Bodie in a different light. Doyle had seen him exuberant when he had saved Nurse Bolding; wounded when he had been knifed; in love when he had played with fire in the guise of Marikka; sarcastic when he tried to bluff their way through the loss of Cowley’s desk, but now it was all down to one thing: Bodie had chosen to run away to save Cowley’s life and the CI5 Op with no thought to what it would do to the man who adored William Bodie . . . his partner, Ray Doyle.
There was silence in the room as the minutes ticked away then Doyle remembered his manners and whispered, “Want a cuppa?”
“Rather have a drink.”
“No!”
Looking up quickly, the blue eyes were full of even more confusion. “Why not, you mad at me or somethin’?”
At that moment Doyle’s efforts to hold back his feelings failed. Standing up so fast that it almost made him dizzy, he shouted at the git who failed to understand anything, “Of course, I’m angry, you dumb crud. It’s not every day that a mate, me partner tries to kill himself just to save some Op and George Cowley’s neck. I knew that you admired him, but I didn’t think that . . . “
There he stopped, unable to go further. To say more would be to admit his feelings and his fear that George Cowley truly did mean more to William Bodie than Ray Doyle did. So he stopped, his voice quivering and then taking a deep breath, he threw out the only excuse that seemed to make sense in their chaotic world of kill or be killed, “Sides it’s our anniversary and you forgot.”
A strange quirky smile graced the gorgeous lips as deep blue eyes looked up at Doyle, “I forgot, did I? Now why would I be bringing you a pressie . . . if I forgot?”
Doyle’s deep green eyes widened in amazement - - not only because Bodie remembered the anniversary, but that it meant enough to him that he would do something about it. Shyly, the slender man whispered, “What you mean . . . a pressie?”
Bodie gave a sad smile, “I will say this slowly so that you can understand, Sunshine. I-brought-a-pressie-to-remember-our-anniversary.”
Doyle was confused and his next words reflected that, “Why’d ya do that?”
Bodie shook his neatly trimmed hair, “Because you crud, you mean a lot to me. I didn’t run away to save Cowley or the Op or Christine or anybody else . . . just you. I didn’t want to risk you gettin’ caught in the blast.” Here the ex-merc stopped obviously embarrassed by the emotion that was evident in his voice. He dropped his head, trying to avoid the green orbs which had widened in disbelief.
Doyle stood staring at the man who had come to mean so much to him. He was speechless. They had been partners for four years, and now The Hard Man confessed that he would prefer his own death to endangering Doyle. The slender figure canted his hip as he tried to organize his thoughts but it was impossible - - Bodie cared about him. Mr. Cool cared about someone and it happened to be his partner.
Finally, Doyle found his voice, “Bodie . . . I . . .” He stopped to try again then he asked the question that was suddenly uppermost, “What pressie?”
Blue eyes looked up in confusion then cleared, “Ta, what do ya think . . . me!”
For a sickening moment the auburn haired agent thought it had all been a joke then his body was wrapped in the long arms of his partner, and he was being hugged until he couldn’t breathe.
Somehow Doyle managed to squeeze out, “Bodie, I can’t breathe”, which resulted in a slight lessening of the pressure against his chest. Pulling his upper body back slightly, green eyes looked deeply into blue eyes. “That’s a great anniversary present. Thanks, mate.”
Bodie stepped back, releasing his partner. The two agents stood within arms length of each other, but it was obvious that the taller man was waiting, expecting something from Doyle.
“What is it, mate? If it’s an apology, ‘m sorry, I thought that it was the Cow that you were so worried about. You mean everything to me, and when I thought that you would run away to protect him and endanger yourself, I was off me top. Guess I should have talked to you first?”
Something in what Doyle had just said must have been the right thing because Bodie merely nodded, taking the slender body back into his embrace, showing his approval with a long, breath-taking kiss.
“Ray Doyle, I yelled at you to stay away from me when I was running. If you ever do a crazy thing like that again, I will never forgive you. I couldn’t stand to lose you.”
“’M sorry, Sunshine, but I don’t want you ever doin’ that again. We are in this together . . . no matter what; so if you run away, I’ll always follow . . . that’s a promise.”
Shaking his dark head as if Doyle had a screw loose, Bodie kissed his soon-to-be-lover.
“Come on, love; let’s go open your present.”
So, a few minutes after the bewitching hour that began their anniversary, the celebration began.
The End - Happy Anniversary to the lads. Thanks to AngelFishFanFiction for hosting our thoughts and stories.