Prosfic - Just Another Day at Work by Slantedlight
Hey - I found a fic! One that I don't think I've ever posted cos it went in a Christmas card to someone way back in 2012, and has been sat on a memory stick since then, cos I wrote it when I was away from my laptop. This one actually comes with a warning.
Warning: Christmas fic.
Cos it's not Christmas... *g* I wondered about leaving it to post for next Christmas, but you never know what might happen do you, so better to post now I reckon, even if it is nearly the end of January. *g*
Just Another Day At Work
by Slantedlight
“Right then - that’s me off!” Jax stood up, shrugging off the grey woollen blanket in which he’d been wrapped, barely waiting for the door of the buggy-boo to open fully before he was jumping out past Bodie, turning to grin widely back at them. “Happy Christmas!”
“Yeah - and you, mate…” But Jax was gone, leaving Doyle’s words, not nearly as gracious as they should have sounded, hanging in the fuggy air.
Bodie was one great smile himself, exuding fresh air and well-being as he hefted his bag into the vehicle, dropping it on the floor between them where Doyle knew he’d trip over it as soon as he got up to stretch. He frowned at it, and then at Bodie, tugged his own blanket more closely around him. It might be the perfect, frost-covered Christmas morning out there - he’d caught a glimpse before Bodie slammed the door shut behind himself - but it was bloody parky in the van.
“What did Letty want then?” he asked, knowing the only way he’d get the truth out of Bodie was if he caught him on the hop.
“Letty?” Sure enough, Bodie looked puzzled for a moment, all blue eyes and innocence.
“Yeah, you know - the only reason I ‘ad to cover for Peterson last night instead of you!”
“Shouldn’t be so quick to bag a double-shift then, should you? Not as if we get more than time and a half.”
Doyle glared at him as Bodie settled himself on Jax’ vacated seat and bent to rummage in his bag. “Cowley only nabbed me because you weren’t there - who wants a double shift over Christmas?”
“Probably why there was no one else around.” Bodie nodded sagely, clearing the milk crate they used as table by the simple expedient of throwing the latest copies of Knave and Mayfair into the corner behind the transmitter. “Anything ‘appening?”
“Not a thing,” Doyle said in disgust, “The Jenkinses went to bed early.”
Bodie looked up at him, eyebrow raised.
“All bloody night,” Doyle confirmed. “Enough to put you off for life.”
“Not you,” Bodie said with confidence. “You’ll be bouncing back before you know it, my son!”
“Don’t change the subject! I ‘ope you’ve at least brought some fresh tea!”
“Keep your knickers on…” Bodie grimaced at Jax’ sugar-encrusted mug, tipped it into the same corner as the magazines, and pulled a solid green thermos from his bag. “Everything your shivering little heart could desire is in this bag…”
“Oh yeah? Bet you were out Christmas shopping with what’s-her-name two minutes after you took Letty’s call yesterday.” He sniffed, wondering if it was worth getting up to try and stretch out some of the kinks induced by twelve hours surveillance in a metal box crowded with equipment, settled for wriggling in place rather than jeopardising what at least looked like a decent attempt to provide him with breakfast on Bodie’s part.
“I’m hurt,” Bodie said with dignity, “That you think so little of me, Raymond.” Two foil-wrapped parcels smelling strongly of bacon joined the thermos and clean mugs he’d put on the table, then a box of mince pies, a bag of satsumas and one of nuts, complete with a nut cracker, two tupperware boxes full of sandwiches and a hip flask.
Doyle felt himself thaw slightly, though he wasn’t going to let the miserable sod off the hook that easily.
“So go on - what did your grass have to tell you that was so bloody important you ‘ad to leave HQ just before I got lumbered with this?”
“Nothing,” Bodie admitted, and Doyle watched, not knowing whether to be amused or horrified as he took a string of tinsel from his bag next, stood up to tie it around the receiving aerial behind him, and then stretched it festively along the rest of the equipment, leaning over Doyle to secure it firmly somewhere above his head. Doyle breathed in, smelling the cold of the morning still on Bodie’s clothes, what might have been the laundry detergent his trousers had been washed in, and through it all, Bodie himself.
“Not anything?” Doyle groused, but he’d been distracted again. Bodie was wearing his brown cords, the ones that were tight across his thighs, that showed him off to… to his best advantage, Doyle admitted fairly. He resisted the urge to press his face to the corduroy, to feel for himself what he could see was the very proud length of Bodie’s cock, hard and ready.
“I asked him to call in around five-fifteen yesterday,” Bodie continued, sitting down again, and looking nothing but amused at Doyle’s glare of outrage. He reached into his bag again, pulled out a sprig of mistletoe, and attached it firmly to the roof the buggy-boo just above their table. “If George had sprung me for obbo last night, then you would have been coming in to replace me this morning, wouldn’t you?”
Doyle watched, mesmerised, as Bodie leaned towards him, closer… closer… grabbed the corners of his blanket and tugged them together over the table, so that their faces were a bare inch apart, so that Bodie’s lips brushed his when he spoke again.
“An’ we wouldn’t be here now, would we four-five?”
Doyle gave into temptation, tilting forwards the final fraction, so that he could nuzzle Bodie’s lips with his own, feeling Bodie’s breath, feeling his blood starting to race as if his heart was finally beating again, the world alive and cheerful once more now that Bodie was here.
“Happy Christmas, Ray,” Bodie said, when they finally parted for air, and Doyle let his blanket drop to the ground, warm all through.
“Happy Christmas,” he said. “Come back here…”
December 2012
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And just cos I'm curious - does anyone remember receiving this one?!