Discovered in the Fairylights - December 10th - No Aspirin in the Jungle by Heliophile
Posting for heliophile_oxon again - happy reading, for the 10th December!
No Aspirin in the Jungle
by Heliophile
Bodie could hear his voice coming from somewhere at the back of the house. Could hear him all the way to the front door, in fact, which was a good thing - since it meant Ray must be (mostly) uninjured, but somehow an odd one: something sounded… off. This didn’t sound like Ray in full fury over an op gone wrong, nor were these the brisk tones of his quick on-the-spot report. In fact this hesitant monotone didn’t sound the least like Ray, Bodie realised as he headed down the little hallway to the sitting room, and who was he banging on at like this? Surely, surely nobody would dare buttonhole their august Controller and - and bore him half to death? Not and expect to live, anyway.
Wearing the solemn expression of someone determined not to laugh even if it meant breaking something internally, Murphy went about his search of the bookshelves and studiously avoided Bodie’s eye as he entered the sitting room.
“…not parrot food. They don’t eat it, ‘s jus’ for sharpenin’ their beaks on, cuttlefish bone… Do cuttlefishes have bones? Not a bone. Dunno. Look, in the cage, if you can get it out, not me, ‘m not goin’ anywhere near that damn bird, bloody great harpy… Sorry sir, findin’ it a bit hard to concentrate. Hard to blend in, y’know, ‘m all about the blendin’ in, fine, no problem, but Kirstin baked a cake today an’ I’ve had the tea as well an’ I dint know she’d put dope in the cake … as well as the tea … an’ I had to blend in, take a few hits, pass a join’ aroun’, don’ wan’ blow me cover ….. Bodie!”
If Cowley looked relieved at the prospect of release from Ray’s increasingly disjointed monologue, Ray himself was gazing at Bodie like a drowning man at an approaching lifeboat which he isn’t quite certain he can reach before going under.
“Apparently the capsule is hidden inside that - that beak-scratcher affair in the parrot’s cage, and it seems butcher’s gloves are required before anyone can get a hand in there to get it out. Ah, Murphy. Our chemist friends have got a pair somewhere about the place - and don’t damage the parrot. Valuable birds - African grey, I believe - “
As Murphy cast a disenchanted look at the parrot and departed in search of the elusive butcher’s gloves, Cowley looked at Ray again, taking in the wide-blown pupils, the faint sheen of perspiration, the barely perceptible nervous tremor - and the gaze locked on Bodie as if on salvation.
“Dr. Peele assures me there’s nothing here that won’t eventually leave his system of its own accord. But you can see for yourself, man, he’s not fit to be left on his own. Keep an eye on him, 3.7 - and don’t let him drive!”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir. Wouldn’t know how to appreciate a fine piece of machinery if it bit him. Sir.”
Ray just stood there, gazing at his hands as if he were desperately trying to focus his eyes with no more than indifferent success. Bodie had never seen him looking so vulnerable.
Spurred on by thoughts of the kind of fun McCabe and Anson could have with a Ray so stoned he probably wouldn’t even grasp that they were taking the piss, let alone be in any state to hold his own against them - hell, even Murphy, normally immune to such temptations, would probably have a go if he ever got his hand back from the parrot unscathed - Bodie lost no time in obtaining Cowley’s assurance that they needn’t report in until the following day before shepherding Ray smoothly towards the car.
Ray’s habitual fluidity of movement was - not gone, exactly, but curiously altered. He seemed constantly distracted, his gaze flicking from one object, one person to another, engaged in a silent, ceaseless struggle to focus enough on where he was going to put one foot in front of the other.
Bodie watched as Doyle reached for his seatbelt with exaggerated care.
“Don’t feel... I don’t think I …. think I’d better...”
There was a pleading note to Ray’s voice, and Bodie spared him any further fumbling by reaching across him to fasten the seatbelt himself.
“Right you are, old son. Clunk click every trip, eh?” He grinned. “Don’t worry, I won’t take it as an aspersion on me consummate driving skills.”
Ray looked at him, alarmed, as if the thought of offending Bodie was too horrible for words.
“All right, mate, I know it’s the dope. Doesn’t matter if you’re rattling on a bit, I won’t drop you in it, all right? It’s OK, Ray.”
He squeezed Ray’s shoulder reassuringly; Ray gulped, and nodded.
“Right. Thanks. Thank Christ you’re here, mate. Feel like the top of me head’s just about floating away. Did I - I didn’t say anything daft to Cowley, did I?”
Bodie toyed for a moment with the idea of telling Ray he’d sung to the old man, or asked him what he wore under his kilt, but manfully restrained himself. There was no sport in hitting a man who was so far down he was subterranean.
“Nope, just told ‘im you were sorry, you thought you might be a bit out of it. A few times. Come on Ray, stop worrying! You were undercover, we all know you sometimes have to join in a bit, play the part.”
“But I didn’t know, I should have known,” Ray almost wailed, not at all like himself. “I only had a couple of hits off the joints, I didn’t know about the tea! An' I didn’t even think about the bloody cake! How could I have been such a bloody idiot…? Bodie, I don’t like this. I don’t feel right, I… “
Ray continued to berate himself incoherently throughout the drive across town while Bodie cursed the rush-hour traffic and began to wonder if the bloody car journey was ever going to end.On the verge of telling Ray to just shut it already, he glanced across - only to be conscience-stricken at the sight of his normally relaxed, assured partner sitting rigidly in the passenger seat, clutching white-knuckled at the door-strap and gulping in great breaths of air through the open window while his gaze flitted restlessly from the street to the kerb, round the inside of the car and back again in constant, panicky motion. Bodie swallowed his words and placed an encouraging hand on Ray’s knee.
This had the effect of cutting of the stream of self-recrimination in mid-flow, and as the traffic fortuitously began to move Bodie dared hope the car journey might not prove interminable after all.
Bodie’s own flat was the handier of the two, but any worries he had about Ray feeling disoriented were soon allayed. Ray seemed positively happy to be at Bodie’s place rather than his own.
“I know it’s stupid - pathetic - don’t want you to drop me off at my place, not just now, don’t think I could hack it being on me own, not right now - ”
“It's all right, ‘m not leaving you on your own right now at all, not in this state.”
“I’m sor - ”
“And you don’t need to keep saying you’re sorry, either. Cretin.” He said it with a smile, but even so Ray’s answering smile was a pale imitation of his usual response. Bodie sighed.
“It’s all right. Come on, we’re mates aren’t we?”
Ray’s smile still wasn’t much more than a spectre of its normal self. “Do the same for you, mate, next time you get this far off your head. Yeah, like you would.”
But he had, Bodie realised suddenly. Never high, like this, nor so drunk he was seeing pink elephants - but he remembered being frozen with fear, in a dark and empty barracks hut, sweating and in pain as a high fever swept him into delirium, terrified in case what he thought he could see in the shifting shadows were actually in there with him, on the edge of vision, creeping closer, unless he could stare them down, and the feeling of helplessness as he lay there alone …. and there was Ray, sitting like a statue on the sofa, breathing fast and shallowly, darting nervous glances around the room.
“Look, I do know how you feel, mate. How about … here, come on. Sit with me and we can watch something on the box, take your mind off it.”
Ray looked hopeful and apprehensive at once. No films, Bodie realised. God only knew what even the mildest bit of horror or violence in a kid’s cartoon would look like to Ray in his current state. No news, either, come to that. No, there was nothing for it but sport, and the more boring the better. Bodie thanked his lucky stars for the interminable tape of Saturday Grandstand he’d succeeded in recording a couple of weekends ago and never bothered to tape over. Even someone stoned to the point of paranoia should be able to watch Saturday Grandstand.
Half an hour later, though, and Ray was still quite obviously hanging on to some semblance of stability by his fingernails. And miserable.
“Look, just -“ Bodie sighed. Every time he said anything, Ray tensed up and obviously had to make an effort not to let it send him freewheeling off down some other line of thought, none of which were very pleasant if the expression on his face was anything to go by. And he still kept bloody apologising, only now he cut himself off short each time, apparently torn between the fear of annoying Bodie and the fear of annoying him by apologising for the apology. This was getting ridiculous. “Oh, never mind. Just come over here, will you?”
Bodie reached out and drew Ray into a sort of one-armed hug, hoping that touch would get through to him the way words very clearly weren’t. And Ray went, immediately wriggling so close he might almost have been trying to climb inside him. Startled, but more than happy to give Ray whatever he needed, Bodie shifted and wordlessly encouraged and murmured soothingly until they ended up with Ray practically sitting in his lap - no lightweight, are you mate - clinging like a limpet, with his face firmly tucked into Bodie’s neck.
“Blimey, you have got yourself in a right state haven’t you”
“Sorry mate, ‘m sorry, I’ll - ” Ray made as if to draw away again.
Oh no you don’t, had enough of that. Bodie pulled him back, and held him loosely but firmly against his chest, squeezing his shoulder. The tension that had locked Ray’s muscles solid until his back and shoulders felt as if they were carved out of wood had dropped dramatically almost as soon as he’d moved into Bodie’s embrace, and he wasn’t about to reverse all that progress now.
“I’ve been scared to death to close my eyes, to be honest. Of what might happen when the lights went out. You dunno what it’s like, never had it like this…” Ray settled against him finally, relaxing in the crook of Bodie’s arm with his face turned in towards his neck, breathing deeply and evenly as the commentary for Aston Villa’s dismal performance washed over them.
Bodie adjusted his grip on the bony shoulders, allowed himself a fond smile - safely unseen - and settled in for the duration. He closed his own eyes for a moment, just to rest them.
When he resurfaced, the match was long since over and the mind-numbing tedium of golf had taken its place in a soothing background murmur. It had grown dark, and the only light in the room was the flicker of the TV screen. Ray was a dead weight against him, deeply asleep and breathing softly into the crook of his neck. Bodie shivered slightly as Ray’s breath ghosted across his skin, and took a moment simply to enjoy the feeling of solid muscle and stubbled cheek, of having the living breathing body of his uncompromising, hard-headed, soft-hearted partner - utterly relaxed for once - in his arms and lying over his heart.
All too soon, the demands of his bladder began to make themselves felt and Bodie tried to extricate himself without waking the sleeper. Ray blinked and stirred, however, and as his eyes met Bodie’s his face lit up with the first real smile Bodie had seen from him since the whole damn undercover had started.
“You OK?”
Ray didn’t answer, just smiled lovingly. Bodie’s heart turned over, and he reminded himself sternly that Ray was most certainly still not in command of himself. Like an amorous drunk, he told himself, even as he smiled helplessly back.
“Shift over, then” - he tweaked a curl - “an’ lemme get to the bog for a slash.” He got to his feet. “All right?”
Ray nodded. “Still off me trolley, but it’s OK now. Way back down from where I was. That was not pleasant, I can tell you.” He looked solemn. “Thanks, Bodie. That was fucking horrible, actually. Saved me life there, mate - really. Thanks.”
Bodie hesitated, hit Ray lightly on the shoulder and tried to get his reactions back in order. He imagined he could still feel the phantom weight of Ray’s head on his shoulder, Ray’s body in his arms.
Abruptly he turned and ducked into the bathroom, calling over his shoulder.
“Make us a cuppa, then, eh? Or if you’re not up to it yet, just sit tight a minute and I’ll do it.”
“Oh I reckon I’m up to it all right. But I’ll wait for you anyway. Long as it takes.”
Ray’s voice was right behind him by the time he finished speaking, and Bodie hurriedly zipped up and turned to the sink to wash his hands.
“Think I’ll just follow your example.” Ray gave a sigh that was almost a groan, “ Oh, that feels good, dunnit.” Ray had never been particularly modest, Bodie reflected, or particularly piss-shy - considerably less so than Bodie himself - but this was a bit much even for him. Bodie was only inches away at the sink, and Ray was sighing with obvious contentment, a look of rapt concentration on his face … Bodie felt a twinge of sympathetic sensation in his own prick and hastened to dry his hands and head for the kitchen to make that cup of tea. For some reason he suddenly felt quite parched.
The look on Ray’s face… Shameless little trollop, Bodie thought to himself, amused. Still pretty high, by the looks of things, but not distressed and lost any more thank God. That wasn’t Ray.
He heard the flush and the tap running in the bathroom, and then Ray was back to crowding him again, reaching past him for the biscuits, brushing against him as they got out teabags, mugs, milk and sugar - knew where it all was better than he did, didn’t he - and almost touching him at every turn. It was disconcerting. Nice, though. Usually it was Bodie who… he pushed the thought away.
Ray lifted his mug in both hands, fixing his eyes on Bodie’s over the rim of it as he took a sip, then closing them with every appearance of ecstasy. It was only a bloody cup of tea, for Christ’s sake, no need for Ray to - he sighed in exasperation even as Ray sighed with sensual approval.
“Perfect,” Ray opened his eyes again, and his gaze held Bodie mesmerised. “Just perfect.” And Ray smiled again, devastatingly.
Bodie grabbed defensively for a biscuit, and Ray took another sip, visibly savouring it. Bodie tore his eyes away and made to move past him back in to the main room, only to find Ray in his path. He made to sidestep him the other way, but Ray was there too, right up against him now. And Ray had somehow managed to divest himself of his mug and had both hands free, while Bodie was momentarily shackled by a mug of hot tea in one hand and a biscuit in the other. Couldn’t push him away with either of those, now, could he? And Ray had all his old fluidity of movement back, Bodie noticed suddenly; pupils still a little blown, but his gaze was steady and focussed, nothing lost and helpless about him now. But still…
“Give over, mate, you’re still high as a bloody kite. Drink your tea and we can get to bed.”
Doyle’s eyes lit up, and Bodie hurried to correct himself.
“Some kip, we can get some kip. Come on Ray, stop pissing about will you?”
“’m not pissing about.” Ray twined his arms loosely about Bodie’s neck in a leisurely fashion, completely relaxed. “Want to thank you. Was in a bad way, an’ you took care of me. Means a lot to me, that does.”
“Yeah, well, any time, don’t worry about it. Now can you just let me get past, I wanna have a cuppa an’ then get my head down, all right? Doyle!”
But Ray simply closed the last vanishingly small gap between them and plastered himself up against Bodie, rocking almost imperceptibly, rubbing smoothly and sinuously against him and angling his head gently but with implacable strength and the clear intention of kissing him.
“You’re still stoned,” Bodie said desperately, “you don’t know what you’re doing an’ - “
“Oh I think you’ll find I know exactly what I’m doing. Might not ‘ave had the nerve when I’m straight - “
Ray giggled, and Bodie made a sound that might have been a laugh and which he instantly put down to nerves.
“ - but I’m doin’ it now. Come on Bodie. It’ll be amazin’. 've never felt so good, ‘n that’s ‘cause of you, you know, not just the dope.” And all the while, Ray kept up that insidious smooth glide of his hips against Bodie’s, that rocking motion, his body dragging the fabric of Bodie’s shirt across his nipples and back in tiny movements, his lips nibbling across Bodie’s cheek and jaw and back under his ear - and was very obviously as turned on as Bodie had ever, in his wildest and most secret dreams, imagined him.
Biscuit crumbling, tea slopping over the side of the mug, Bodie made one last-ditch attempt.
“Tomorrow - “ his voice came out more like a croak - “tomorrow, when you’re straight again, you’re gonna hate this, hate me - “
Ray straightened up, stopped rocking and moved back a fraction, easing the pressure on Bodie’s rather more than half-hard cock. It was all he could do not to whimper and follow that siren heat and hardness, not to move forward to press firmly against Ray’s body again.
“No, I won’t. Want this, want you, always do, always have. Never meant to let you know, you know. But if I’m gonna be hanged for a lamb I might as well go for the whole bloody flock, and I reckon maybe you might not hang me anyway…”
Ray moved in again and kissed him, and as it turned out there was only so much a man could bear when what he wanted most was suddenly not just offered to him on a plate but was positively jumping off the plate and into his mouth.
Biscuit forgotten, he somehow managed to retain enough coordination to manoeuvre them near enough to the kitchen counter to get rid of that bloody cup of tea before he scalded something important. And then his arms were around Ray and they were kissing and oh…
So hot, so hard. Bodie leant back against the kitchen counter and let his legs fall open a little so that Ray could push in between them and he could run his hands all over him, through Ray’s hair and down his back and get a grip on that arse, Christ, that arse would tempt a saint and it fit his hands so perfectly…
He forced himself to break the kiss.
“Ray - ”
Ray made a noise of complaint and showed every inclination to dive right back in.
“No, Ray - ”
Bodie got a grip on Ray’s hair at the back of his head and pulled gently until they could actually see each other.
“We should wait. You’re still stoned, mate. Don’t want you handing me my head tomorrow, yelling about how you didn’t really want this - ”
Ray gave a sinuous wriggle against him that demonstrated empirically just how much he did.
“- at least you won’t want it once you’ve come down, and - ”
Ray’s eyes were all pupil, but his glare was the same one he always wore whenever Bodie had said or done something he considered particularly stupid.
“But you do. Don’t you.”
He punctuated his words with firm nudges of his anatomy against Bodie’s that forced something like a low moan or a gasp from Bodie’s throat.
“And I think you’ll find, mate, that actually I do. Know my own bloody mind. Want this. You. Have for a long time.” He gave Bodie a shake, exasperated.
“Never thought I’d let on, though, so you’re right about one thing - I am still stoned.”
Bodie smiled helplessly as Ray giggled, his expression transformed from belligerence to indulgence in an instant, and Ray immediately took advantage to outflank any further protest by invading his mouth with another unstintingly enthusiastic kiss. Very enthusiastic. Bodie found that the last shreds of his resolve were deserting him, slipping away almost as fast as the layers of clothes with which he habitually kept himself decently covered. Ray might still be speaking a fraction less coherently than usual, but he had clearly regained all his dexterity.
Suddenly Bodie couldn’t bear the thought of what would probably be his only chance with Ray being played out against the unforgiving surfaces and under the harsh fluorescent strip-lighting of the kitchen.
He’d go to hell for this, he thought - for letting Ray do something he was bound to regret, no matter what he said now, the moment he was over the sweet high of the moment - and hell would be Ray’s own regrets, whatever form they took; no-one had ever accused Ray Doyle of being reasonable where his own failings, real or imagined, were concerned.
Torn between the temptations of the moment and the subsequent torments he grimly anticipated, Bodie knew he was going to give in. Ray Doyle in his arms, willing - a sight more than willing, he was eager beyond Bodie’s wildest dreams. For all the many times he’d conjured up such a moment - in the secret quiet of four in the morning, when he couldn’t resist the fantasy any longer - he’d never envisaged such wholehearted participation on Ray’s part. Had always imagined, when he dared to imagine at all, himself being permitted to touch, and Ray allowing him to give him pleasure. His thoughts had been all of Ray spread-eagled on a bed, his head thrown back, eyes shut as Bodie gave and gave with mouth and hands, often bringing himself close to the point of orgasm just by picturing it. He’d never dreamt of a Ray who hustled him, still laughing, from the kitchen and across the little hall into his own bedroom; who nudged and tugged and inveigled him out of his clothes with muttered words of appreciation the more of him that was revealed. Belatedly, Bodie recovered his wits enough to return the favour, encouraging buttons to slip their buttonholes, shoes to escape their laces and zips to slide open until there, there was all of Ray’s naked and decidedly muscular beauty looming over him as he pinned Bodie to the bed.
Ray seemed to want a dozen different things all at once, as if unable to decide where to start on a feast spread out before him. He kept rubbing his whole body up against every inch of Bodie’s skin even as he kissed him, tasting neck and shoulders and points south, caressing him with his hands and even rubbing Bodie’s feet with his own, ensuring that he was almost unable to draw breath let alone think straight. He’d never dreamt that the inside of his elbows would be quite so sensitive to the attentions of lips and tongue and barely-grazing teeth…
Ray’s mouth on his inner thigh had Bodie pleading incoherently, trying and failing to keep the words from escaping past his lips. But Ray was unstoppable, savouring every inch of him, vocal in his appreciation - as, all too soon, Bodie’s every last muscle convulsed in explosive pleasure - and swallowing him down.
And as Bodie reached for him, chest heaving and every nerve-end tingling, Ray wriggled quick as a cat back up his body, eyes black, lips kiss-swollen, muttering “yes, fuck, so fucking good” as he drove against him hard and relentless until he too groaned his satisfaction only moments later.
Holding Ray against him wearing nothing but a seraphic smile, Bodie’s own answering smile was tempered by the thought that despite all assurances Ray was going to regret - or want to forget - all this in the morning….
o0o
Waking up could not be postponed indefinitely, even though Bodie was dimly conscious of a feeling that he would be better off if he could just doze forever in the delicious half-waking, half-sleeping dream-world of a warm bed made warmer and infinitely more comforting by the presence of another body beside his own - a specific body, a body whose scent meant safety and home, even as it inspired subtler feelings of arousal. But inevitably, awareness crept in and consciousness intruded, bringing with it chill misgivings.
Ray would be on his way out the door any minute - if the presence beside him was even real, that is, and not just a memory. Just how badly would Ray regret last night? And which of them was he going to blame more - himself for the insanity, or Bodie for failing to prevent it? Or would he just pretend it never happened… that might be best, Bodie thought. And he steeled himself to go along with it, however much it would hurt.
Bodie gradually became aware of an irritating, part annoying part pleasant sensation in the vicinity of his ear. He attempted to burrow further into the pillow to escape it, but the gentle caress of air followed him. Then it stopped abruptly.
“Can smell the smoke from here, mate. Give over, or your brain-cell will burn out.”
Ray was smiling sleepily, one arm folded behind his head, as Bodie turned over towards him. He stretched luxuriously, with every appearance of enjoyment unhampered by regrets of any kind. He scratched his stomach. Movements visible beneath the covers, he carded his fingers through his own pubic hair and gave his balls a comfortable rub. Then he turned his head back towards Bodie and his gaze flickered for a moment to Bodie’s lips and back to meet his eye with a somewhat more rueful expression than before.
“Mate, I’d kiss you but believe me you don’t want me to ‘till I’ve brushed me teeth. Why didn’t you tell me to last night, then? Too busy gettin’ your end away, eh?” He grinned at Bodie’s stricken expression, and patted his cheek. “Don’t go anywhere.”
And he practically leapt off the bed with a sudden excess of energy, heading for the bathroom. Bodie knew his mouth was open, but he was surprised to realise he didn’t care. Ray was whistling. Tunelessly, mind, but he definitely thought that was meant to be whistling. The sound of water splashing reminded him of his own needs, but he hesitated a moment. Well damn it all, though, he wasn’t going to be embarrassed now, for crying out loud - buggered if he was going to cower in his own bed like a shy virgin - he shoved that thought firmly aside for the moment. He wanted to be physically capable of having a piss, after all.
Ray was just coming out of the bathroom, as relaxed in his nakedness as he had been the night before. “C’n kiss you now, though,” he said and ambushed Bodie on the fly as he passed him in the doorway before heading back to the bedroom. “An’ you c’n brush yours, an’ all”.
Bodie heard the bedframe creak in complaint as Ray flung himself onto it with abandon, and soon discovered that brushing your teeth is both more awkward and more agreeable a task when you can’t keep the grin off your face. Concluding his own visit to the bathroom, he paused a moment in the bedroom doorway. Ray was smiling at him, waiting for him.
Something was fizzing up inside him, and he rather thought it might be happiness.
o0o
Title: No Aspirin in the Jungle
Author: Heliophile
Slash or Gen: Slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: Yes please!
Disclaimer: The author doesn't own either the CI5 universe, or the lads, and she knows it...
Notes: With thanks to Angelci5, Luka and Bsl for the prompts - "parrot food", "when the lights went out" and "the endless car journey"
No Aspirin in the Jungle
by Heliophile
Bodie could hear his voice coming from somewhere at the back of the house. Could hear him all the way to the front door, in fact, which was a good thing - since it meant Ray must be (mostly) uninjured, but somehow an odd one: something sounded… off. This didn’t sound like Ray in full fury over an op gone wrong, nor were these the brisk tones of his quick on-the-spot report. In fact this hesitant monotone didn’t sound the least like Ray, Bodie realised as he headed down the little hallway to the sitting room, and who was he banging on at like this? Surely, surely nobody would dare buttonhole their august Controller and - and bore him half to death? Not and expect to live, anyway.
Wearing the solemn expression of someone determined not to laugh even if it meant breaking something internally, Murphy went about his search of the bookshelves and studiously avoided Bodie’s eye as he entered the sitting room.
“…not parrot food. They don’t eat it, ‘s jus’ for sharpenin’ their beaks on, cuttlefish bone… Do cuttlefishes have bones? Not a bone. Dunno. Look, in the cage, if you can get it out, not me, ‘m not goin’ anywhere near that damn bird, bloody great harpy… Sorry sir, findin’ it a bit hard to concentrate. Hard to blend in, y’know, ‘m all about the blendin’ in, fine, no problem, but Kirstin baked a cake today an’ I’ve had the tea as well an’ I dint know she’d put dope in the cake … as well as the tea … an’ I had to blend in, take a few hits, pass a join’ aroun’, don’ wan’ blow me cover ….. Bodie!”
If Cowley looked relieved at the prospect of release from Ray’s increasingly disjointed monologue, Ray himself was gazing at Bodie like a drowning man at an approaching lifeboat which he isn’t quite certain he can reach before going under.
“Apparently the capsule is hidden inside that - that beak-scratcher affair in the parrot’s cage, and it seems butcher’s gloves are required before anyone can get a hand in there to get it out. Ah, Murphy. Our chemist friends have got a pair somewhere about the place - and don’t damage the parrot. Valuable birds - African grey, I believe - “
As Murphy cast a disenchanted look at the parrot and departed in search of the elusive butcher’s gloves, Cowley looked at Ray again, taking in the wide-blown pupils, the faint sheen of perspiration, the barely perceptible nervous tremor - and the gaze locked on Bodie as if on salvation.
“Dr. Peele assures me there’s nothing here that won’t eventually leave his system of its own accord. But you can see for yourself, man, he’s not fit to be left on his own. Keep an eye on him, 3.7 - and don’t let him drive!”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir. Wouldn’t know how to appreciate a fine piece of machinery if it bit him. Sir.”
Ray just stood there, gazing at his hands as if he were desperately trying to focus his eyes with no more than indifferent success. Bodie had never seen him looking so vulnerable.
Spurred on by thoughts of the kind of fun McCabe and Anson could have with a Ray so stoned he probably wouldn’t even grasp that they were taking the piss, let alone be in any state to hold his own against them - hell, even Murphy, normally immune to such temptations, would probably have a go if he ever got his hand back from the parrot unscathed - Bodie lost no time in obtaining Cowley’s assurance that they needn’t report in until the following day before shepherding Ray smoothly towards the car.
Ray’s habitual fluidity of movement was - not gone, exactly, but curiously altered. He seemed constantly distracted, his gaze flicking from one object, one person to another, engaged in a silent, ceaseless struggle to focus enough on where he was going to put one foot in front of the other.
Bodie watched as Doyle reached for his seatbelt with exaggerated care.
“Don’t feel... I don’t think I …. think I’d better...”
There was a pleading note to Ray’s voice, and Bodie spared him any further fumbling by reaching across him to fasten the seatbelt himself.
“Right you are, old son. Clunk click every trip, eh?” He grinned. “Don’t worry, I won’t take it as an aspersion on me consummate driving skills.”
Ray looked at him, alarmed, as if the thought of offending Bodie was too horrible for words.
“All right, mate, I know it’s the dope. Doesn’t matter if you’re rattling on a bit, I won’t drop you in it, all right? It’s OK, Ray.”
He squeezed Ray’s shoulder reassuringly; Ray gulped, and nodded.
“Right. Thanks. Thank Christ you’re here, mate. Feel like the top of me head’s just about floating away. Did I - I didn’t say anything daft to Cowley, did I?”
Bodie toyed for a moment with the idea of telling Ray he’d sung to the old man, or asked him what he wore under his kilt, but manfully restrained himself. There was no sport in hitting a man who was so far down he was subterranean.
“Nope, just told ‘im you were sorry, you thought you might be a bit out of it. A few times. Come on Ray, stop worrying! You were undercover, we all know you sometimes have to join in a bit, play the part.”
“But I didn’t know, I should have known,” Ray almost wailed, not at all like himself. “I only had a couple of hits off the joints, I didn’t know about the tea! An' I didn’t even think about the bloody cake! How could I have been such a bloody idiot…? Bodie, I don’t like this. I don’t feel right, I… “
Ray continued to berate himself incoherently throughout the drive across town while Bodie cursed the rush-hour traffic and began to wonder if the bloody car journey was ever going to end.On the verge of telling Ray to just shut it already, he glanced across - only to be conscience-stricken at the sight of his normally relaxed, assured partner sitting rigidly in the passenger seat, clutching white-knuckled at the door-strap and gulping in great breaths of air through the open window while his gaze flitted restlessly from the street to the kerb, round the inside of the car and back again in constant, panicky motion. Bodie swallowed his words and placed an encouraging hand on Ray’s knee.
This had the effect of cutting of the stream of self-recrimination in mid-flow, and as the traffic fortuitously began to move Bodie dared hope the car journey might not prove interminable after all.
Bodie’s own flat was the handier of the two, but any worries he had about Ray feeling disoriented were soon allayed. Ray seemed positively happy to be at Bodie’s place rather than his own.
“I know it’s stupid - pathetic - don’t want you to drop me off at my place, not just now, don’t think I could hack it being on me own, not right now - ”
“It's all right, ‘m not leaving you on your own right now at all, not in this state.”
“I’m sor - ”
“And you don’t need to keep saying you’re sorry, either. Cretin.” He said it with a smile, but even so Ray’s answering smile was a pale imitation of his usual response. Bodie sighed.
“It’s all right. Come on, we’re mates aren’t we?”
Ray’s smile still wasn’t much more than a spectre of its normal self. “Do the same for you, mate, next time you get this far off your head. Yeah, like you would.”
But he had, Bodie realised suddenly. Never high, like this, nor so drunk he was seeing pink elephants - but he remembered being frozen with fear, in a dark and empty barracks hut, sweating and in pain as a high fever swept him into delirium, terrified in case what he thought he could see in the shifting shadows were actually in there with him, on the edge of vision, creeping closer, unless he could stare them down, and the feeling of helplessness as he lay there alone …. and there was Ray, sitting like a statue on the sofa, breathing fast and shallowly, darting nervous glances around the room.
“Look, I do know how you feel, mate. How about … here, come on. Sit with me and we can watch something on the box, take your mind off it.”
Ray looked hopeful and apprehensive at once. No films, Bodie realised. God only knew what even the mildest bit of horror or violence in a kid’s cartoon would look like to Ray in his current state. No news, either, come to that. No, there was nothing for it but sport, and the more boring the better. Bodie thanked his lucky stars for the interminable tape of Saturday Grandstand he’d succeeded in recording a couple of weekends ago and never bothered to tape over. Even someone stoned to the point of paranoia should be able to watch Saturday Grandstand.
Half an hour later, though, and Ray was still quite obviously hanging on to some semblance of stability by his fingernails. And miserable.
“Look, just -“ Bodie sighed. Every time he said anything, Ray tensed up and obviously had to make an effort not to let it send him freewheeling off down some other line of thought, none of which were very pleasant if the expression on his face was anything to go by. And he still kept bloody apologising, only now he cut himself off short each time, apparently torn between the fear of annoying Bodie and the fear of annoying him by apologising for the apology. This was getting ridiculous. “Oh, never mind. Just come over here, will you?”
Bodie reached out and drew Ray into a sort of one-armed hug, hoping that touch would get through to him the way words very clearly weren’t. And Ray went, immediately wriggling so close he might almost have been trying to climb inside him. Startled, but more than happy to give Ray whatever he needed, Bodie shifted and wordlessly encouraged and murmured soothingly until they ended up with Ray practically sitting in his lap - no lightweight, are you mate - clinging like a limpet, with his face firmly tucked into Bodie’s neck.
“Blimey, you have got yourself in a right state haven’t you”
“Sorry mate, ‘m sorry, I’ll - ” Ray made as if to draw away again.
Oh no you don’t, had enough of that. Bodie pulled him back, and held him loosely but firmly against his chest, squeezing his shoulder. The tension that had locked Ray’s muscles solid until his back and shoulders felt as if they were carved out of wood had dropped dramatically almost as soon as he’d moved into Bodie’s embrace, and he wasn’t about to reverse all that progress now.
“I’ve been scared to death to close my eyes, to be honest. Of what might happen when the lights went out. You dunno what it’s like, never had it like this…” Ray settled against him finally, relaxing in the crook of Bodie’s arm with his face turned in towards his neck, breathing deeply and evenly as the commentary for Aston Villa’s dismal performance washed over them.
Bodie adjusted his grip on the bony shoulders, allowed himself a fond smile - safely unseen - and settled in for the duration. He closed his own eyes for a moment, just to rest them.
When he resurfaced, the match was long since over and the mind-numbing tedium of golf had taken its place in a soothing background murmur. It had grown dark, and the only light in the room was the flicker of the TV screen. Ray was a dead weight against him, deeply asleep and breathing softly into the crook of his neck. Bodie shivered slightly as Ray’s breath ghosted across his skin, and took a moment simply to enjoy the feeling of solid muscle and stubbled cheek, of having the living breathing body of his uncompromising, hard-headed, soft-hearted partner - utterly relaxed for once - in his arms and lying over his heart.
All too soon, the demands of his bladder began to make themselves felt and Bodie tried to extricate himself without waking the sleeper. Ray blinked and stirred, however, and as his eyes met Bodie’s his face lit up with the first real smile Bodie had seen from him since the whole damn undercover had started.
“You OK?”
Ray didn’t answer, just smiled lovingly. Bodie’s heart turned over, and he reminded himself sternly that Ray was most certainly still not in command of himself. Like an amorous drunk, he told himself, even as he smiled helplessly back.
“Shift over, then” - he tweaked a curl - “an’ lemme get to the bog for a slash.” He got to his feet. “All right?”
Ray nodded. “Still off me trolley, but it’s OK now. Way back down from where I was. That was not pleasant, I can tell you.” He looked solemn. “Thanks, Bodie. That was fucking horrible, actually. Saved me life there, mate - really. Thanks.”
Bodie hesitated, hit Ray lightly on the shoulder and tried to get his reactions back in order. He imagined he could still feel the phantom weight of Ray’s head on his shoulder, Ray’s body in his arms.
Abruptly he turned and ducked into the bathroom, calling over his shoulder.
“Make us a cuppa, then, eh? Or if you’re not up to it yet, just sit tight a minute and I’ll do it.”
“Oh I reckon I’m up to it all right. But I’ll wait for you anyway. Long as it takes.”
Ray’s voice was right behind him by the time he finished speaking, and Bodie hurriedly zipped up and turned to the sink to wash his hands.
“Think I’ll just follow your example.” Ray gave a sigh that was almost a groan, “ Oh, that feels good, dunnit.” Ray had never been particularly modest, Bodie reflected, or particularly piss-shy - considerably less so than Bodie himself - but this was a bit much even for him. Bodie was only inches away at the sink, and Ray was sighing with obvious contentment, a look of rapt concentration on his face … Bodie felt a twinge of sympathetic sensation in his own prick and hastened to dry his hands and head for the kitchen to make that cup of tea. For some reason he suddenly felt quite parched.
The look on Ray’s face… Shameless little trollop, Bodie thought to himself, amused. Still pretty high, by the looks of things, but not distressed and lost any more thank God. That wasn’t Ray.
He heard the flush and the tap running in the bathroom, and then Ray was back to crowding him again, reaching past him for the biscuits, brushing against him as they got out teabags, mugs, milk and sugar - knew where it all was better than he did, didn’t he - and almost touching him at every turn. It was disconcerting. Nice, though. Usually it was Bodie who… he pushed the thought away.
Ray lifted his mug in both hands, fixing his eyes on Bodie’s over the rim of it as he took a sip, then closing them with every appearance of ecstasy. It was only a bloody cup of tea, for Christ’s sake, no need for Ray to - he sighed in exasperation even as Ray sighed with sensual approval.
“Perfect,” Ray opened his eyes again, and his gaze held Bodie mesmerised. “Just perfect.” And Ray smiled again, devastatingly.
Bodie grabbed defensively for a biscuit, and Ray took another sip, visibly savouring it. Bodie tore his eyes away and made to move past him back in to the main room, only to find Ray in his path. He made to sidestep him the other way, but Ray was there too, right up against him now. And Ray had somehow managed to divest himself of his mug and had both hands free, while Bodie was momentarily shackled by a mug of hot tea in one hand and a biscuit in the other. Couldn’t push him away with either of those, now, could he? And Ray had all his old fluidity of movement back, Bodie noticed suddenly; pupils still a little blown, but his gaze was steady and focussed, nothing lost and helpless about him now. But still…
“Give over, mate, you’re still high as a bloody kite. Drink your tea and we can get to bed.”
Doyle’s eyes lit up, and Bodie hurried to correct himself.
“Some kip, we can get some kip. Come on Ray, stop pissing about will you?”
“’m not pissing about.” Ray twined his arms loosely about Bodie’s neck in a leisurely fashion, completely relaxed. “Want to thank you. Was in a bad way, an’ you took care of me. Means a lot to me, that does.”
“Yeah, well, any time, don’t worry about it. Now can you just let me get past, I wanna have a cuppa an’ then get my head down, all right? Doyle!”
But Ray simply closed the last vanishingly small gap between them and plastered himself up against Bodie, rocking almost imperceptibly, rubbing smoothly and sinuously against him and angling his head gently but with implacable strength and the clear intention of kissing him.
“You’re still stoned,” Bodie said desperately, “you don’t know what you’re doing an’ - “
“Oh I think you’ll find I know exactly what I’m doing. Might not ‘ave had the nerve when I’m straight - “
Ray giggled, and Bodie made a sound that might have been a laugh and which he instantly put down to nerves.
“ - but I’m doin’ it now. Come on Bodie. It’ll be amazin’. 've never felt so good, ‘n that’s ‘cause of you, you know, not just the dope.” And all the while, Ray kept up that insidious smooth glide of his hips against Bodie’s, that rocking motion, his body dragging the fabric of Bodie’s shirt across his nipples and back in tiny movements, his lips nibbling across Bodie’s cheek and jaw and back under his ear - and was very obviously as turned on as Bodie had ever, in his wildest and most secret dreams, imagined him.
Biscuit crumbling, tea slopping over the side of the mug, Bodie made one last-ditch attempt.
“Tomorrow - “ his voice came out more like a croak - “tomorrow, when you’re straight again, you’re gonna hate this, hate me - “
Ray straightened up, stopped rocking and moved back a fraction, easing the pressure on Bodie’s rather more than half-hard cock. It was all he could do not to whimper and follow that siren heat and hardness, not to move forward to press firmly against Ray’s body again.
“No, I won’t. Want this, want you, always do, always have. Never meant to let you know, you know. But if I’m gonna be hanged for a lamb I might as well go for the whole bloody flock, and I reckon maybe you might not hang me anyway…”
Ray moved in again and kissed him, and as it turned out there was only so much a man could bear when what he wanted most was suddenly not just offered to him on a plate but was positively jumping off the plate and into his mouth.
Biscuit forgotten, he somehow managed to retain enough coordination to manoeuvre them near enough to the kitchen counter to get rid of that bloody cup of tea before he scalded something important. And then his arms were around Ray and they were kissing and oh…
So hot, so hard. Bodie leant back against the kitchen counter and let his legs fall open a little so that Ray could push in between them and he could run his hands all over him, through Ray’s hair and down his back and get a grip on that arse, Christ, that arse would tempt a saint and it fit his hands so perfectly…
He forced himself to break the kiss.
“Ray - ”
Ray made a noise of complaint and showed every inclination to dive right back in.
“No, Ray - ”
Bodie got a grip on Ray’s hair at the back of his head and pulled gently until they could actually see each other.
“We should wait. You’re still stoned, mate. Don’t want you handing me my head tomorrow, yelling about how you didn’t really want this - ”
Ray gave a sinuous wriggle against him that demonstrated empirically just how much he did.
“- at least you won’t want it once you’ve come down, and - ”
Ray’s eyes were all pupil, but his glare was the same one he always wore whenever Bodie had said or done something he considered particularly stupid.
“But you do. Don’t you.”
He punctuated his words with firm nudges of his anatomy against Bodie’s that forced something like a low moan or a gasp from Bodie’s throat.
“And I think you’ll find, mate, that actually I do. Know my own bloody mind. Want this. You. Have for a long time.” He gave Bodie a shake, exasperated.
“Never thought I’d let on, though, so you’re right about one thing - I am still stoned.”
Bodie smiled helplessly as Ray giggled, his expression transformed from belligerence to indulgence in an instant, and Ray immediately took advantage to outflank any further protest by invading his mouth with another unstintingly enthusiastic kiss. Very enthusiastic. Bodie found that the last shreds of his resolve were deserting him, slipping away almost as fast as the layers of clothes with which he habitually kept himself decently covered. Ray might still be speaking a fraction less coherently than usual, but he had clearly regained all his dexterity.
Suddenly Bodie couldn’t bear the thought of what would probably be his only chance with Ray being played out against the unforgiving surfaces and under the harsh fluorescent strip-lighting of the kitchen.
He’d go to hell for this, he thought - for letting Ray do something he was bound to regret, no matter what he said now, the moment he was over the sweet high of the moment - and hell would be Ray’s own regrets, whatever form they took; no-one had ever accused Ray Doyle of being reasonable where his own failings, real or imagined, were concerned.
Torn between the temptations of the moment and the subsequent torments he grimly anticipated, Bodie knew he was going to give in. Ray Doyle in his arms, willing - a sight more than willing, he was eager beyond Bodie’s wildest dreams. For all the many times he’d conjured up such a moment - in the secret quiet of four in the morning, when he couldn’t resist the fantasy any longer - he’d never envisaged such wholehearted participation on Ray’s part. Had always imagined, when he dared to imagine at all, himself being permitted to touch, and Ray allowing him to give him pleasure. His thoughts had been all of Ray spread-eagled on a bed, his head thrown back, eyes shut as Bodie gave and gave with mouth and hands, often bringing himself close to the point of orgasm just by picturing it. He’d never dreamt of a Ray who hustled him, still laughing, from the kitchen and across the little hall into his own bedroom; who nudged and tugged and inveigled him out of his clothes with muttered words of appreciation the more of him that was revealed. Belatedly, Bodie recovered his wits enough to return the favour, encouraging buttons to slip their buttonholes, shoes to escape their laces and zips to slide open until there, there was all of Ray’s naked and decidedly muscular beauty looming over him as he pinned Bodie to the bed.
Ray seemed to want a dozen different things all at once, as if unable to decide where to start on a feast spread out before him. He kept rubbing his whole body up against every inch of Bodie’s skin even as he kissed him, tasting neck and shoulders and points south, caressing him with his hands and even rubbing Bodie’s feet with his own, ensuring that he was almost unable to draw breath let alone think straight. He’d never dreamt that the inside of his elbows would be quite so sensitive to the attentions of lips and tongue and barely-grazing teeth…
Ray’s mouth on his inner thigh had Bodie pleading incoherently, trying and failing to keep the words from escaping past his lips. But Ray was unstoppable, savouring every inch of him, vocal in his appreciation - as, all too soon, Bodie’s every last muscle convulsed in explosive pleasure - and swallowing him down.
And as Bodie reached for him, chest heaving and every nerve-end tingling, Ray wriggled quick as a cat back up his body, eyes black, lips kiss-swollen, muttering “yes, fuck, so fucking good” as he drove against him hard and relentless until he too groaned his satisfaction only moments later.
Holding Ray against him wearing nothing but a seraphic smile, Bodie’s own answering smile was tempered by the thought that despite all assurances Ray was going to regret - or want to forget - all this in the morning….
o0o
Waking up could not be postponed indefinitely, even though Bodie was dimly conscious of a feeling that he would be better off if he could just doze forever in the delicious half-waking, half-sleeping dream-world of a warm bed made warmer and infinitely more comforting by the presence of another body beside his own - a specific body, a body whose scent meant safety and home, even as it inspired subtler feelings of arousal. But inevitably, awareness crept in and consciousness intruded, bringing with it chill misgivings.
Ray would be on his way out the door any minute - if the presence beside him was even real, that is, and not just a memory. Just how badly would Ray regret last night? And which of them was he going to blame more - himself for the insanity, or Bodie for failing to prevent it? Or would he just pretend it never happened… that might be best, Bodie thought. And he steeled himself to go along with it, however much it would hurt.
Bodie gradually became aware of an irritating, part annoying part pleasant sensation in the vicinity of his ear. He attempted to burrow further into the pillow to escape it, but the gentle caress of air followed him. Then it stopped abruptly.
“Can smell the smoke from here, mate. Give over, or your brain-cell will burn out.”
Ray was smiling sleepily, one arm folded behind his head, as Bodie turned over towards him. He stretched luxuriously, with every appearance of enjoyment unhampered by regrets of any kind. He scratched his stomach. Movements visible beneath the covers, he carded his fingers through his own pubic hair and gave his balls a comfortable rub. Then he turned his head back towards Bodie and his gaze flickered for a moment to Bodie’s lips and back to meet his eye with a somewhat more rueful expression than before.
“Mate, I’d kiss you but believe me you don’t want me to ‘till I’ve brushed me teeth. Why didn’t you tell me to last night, then? Too busy gettin’ your end away, eh?” He grinned at Bodie’s stricken expression, and patted his cheek. “Don’t go anywhere.”
And he practically leapt off the bed with a sudden excess of energy, heading for the bathroom. Bodie knew his mouth was open, but he was surprised to realise he didn’t care. Ray was whistling. Tunelessly, mind, but he definitely thought that was meant to be whistling. The sound of water splashing reminded him of his own needs, but he hesitated a moment. Well damn it all, though, he wasn’t going to be embarrassed now, for crying out loud - buggered if he was going to cower in his own bed like a shy virgin - he shoved that thought firmly aside for the moment. He wanted to be physically capable of having a piss, after all.
Ray was just coming out of the bathroom, as relaxed in his nakedness as he had been the night before. “C’n kiss you now, though,” he said and ambushed Bodie on the fly as he passed him in the doorway before heading back to the bedroom. “An’ you c’n brush yours, an’ all”.
Bodie heard the bedframe creak in complaint as Ray flung himself onto it with abandon, and soon discovered that brushing your teeth is both more awkward and more agreeable a task when you can’t keep the grin off your face. Concluding his own visit to the bathroom, he paused a moment in the bedroom doorway. Ray was smiling at him, waiting for him.
Something was fizzing up inside him, and he rather thought it might be happiness.
o0o
Title: No Aspirin in the Jungle
Author: Heliophile
Slash or Gen: Slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: Yes please!
Disclaimer: The author doesn't own either the CI5 universe, or the lads, and she knows it...
Notes: With thanks to Angelci5, Luka and Bsl for the prompts - "parrot food", "when the lights went out" and "the endless car journey"