ext_36739 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
londonronnie.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
discoveredinalj2008-12-29 07:20 pm
londonronnie.livejournal.com) wrote in discoveredinalj2008-12-29 07:20 pm
Entry tags:
Day 29 - Offering the Fourth
Another little fic offering...
False Assumptions
Never assume the obvious is true ~ William Safire
“You realise that these are very serious allegations.”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
George Cowley sighed wearily and gestured towards the chair in front of his desk. As the newly-appointed Agent 9.8 obeyed the instruction, Cowley flicked on his intercom. “No interruptions until I’m finished with Collinson, Betty. And see if you can round up Bodie and Doyle for me, would you?”
His secretary replied in the affirmative, and Cowley turned his attention to the man sitting before him. Sitting, Cowley noted, on the edge of his seat and looking extremely uncomfortable – as well he should do, after the ludicrous accusations he’d made. Cowley made a point of relaxing back into his own chair and studied Collinson pointedly. Under his gimlet eye a bead of sweat began to run down the other man’s temple.
Collinson’s military training forbade him to begin the conversation, and Cowley eked out the moment for a full half-minute before speaking.
“You came to me very highly recommended by your commanding officer. The last thing I expected was to have a barrack-room gossip-monger on my hands.”
Nervous Collinson might be, but he was confident enough to look affronted at the insult.
“No, sir. I’m not, sir. I’ve never had any time for idle chit-chat and rumour, sir.”
Cowley leaned forward accusingly. “And yet you come to me with this... this cock and bull story about two of my most trusted agents.”
“With all due respect, sir...”
Cowley held up a hand to silence him.
“You’ve only been with CI5 for a few months, Collinson. You haven’t had time to get to know these men. Bodie and Doyle can both play the comedian when it suits them. To my great annoyance at times, I might add.”
“I know what I heard, sir. And what I saw.”
Cowley cleared his throat, his distaste at the whole business only too evident. “Very well, then. You’d better tell me the whole story.”
“I’d like this to be considered an official complaint, sir.”
Cowley looked aghast. “What? Surely not, man. We can keep this off the record for now, for pity’s sake! The reputations of two good men are at stake here.”
“Nevertheless, I’d rather make it official, sir.”
If looks could kill, Collinson should by rights have been a pile of smouldering ashes. Cowley took a pen from his top pocket and opened his notebook.
“Dates, places, conversations, physical evidence,” he said tersely, without looking up.
“Well, sir. It was after the Christmas party last week. They must have thought they were alone in the...”
He was interrupted by a loud snort of derision.
“Oh, for...” The Controller of CI5 threw his pen down upon his desk in exasperation. “I was at that particular little gathering myself. I saw the amount of alcohol that Messrs Bodie and Doyle imbibed. They were drunk and incapable, man!”
“Not when I saw them, sir. They were perfectly in command of their... actions.” The last word was accompanied by a look of sheer disgust.
Collinson’s stiff and correct demeanour was beginning to grate on Cowley’s nerves. “Let’s not drag this out then, 9.8...”
Cowley sat in silence as Collinson gave a detailed account of the events which followed the CI5 Christmas party as he had allegedly witnessed them, in particular the aspects of the behaviour of Agents 3.7 and 4.5 which had supposedly caused him such distress. Cowley kept his eyes on his notebook, and jotted down a relevant word here and there; “Lewdness”, “Fornication” and “Perversion” seemed to figure frequently in Collinson’s diatribe, along with “Buggery” and “Debauchery”. Words that Cowley hadn’t heard uttered with such relish since a fiery visiting Wee Free minister had put the fear of death into him as an innocent schoolboy.
By the time Collinson had finished his malicious rant Cowley was casting thanks heavenwards that the man was still within his probation period. Even if his two top agents proved to be guilty as charged, there was no place in CI5 for a narrow-minded bigot such as this. Cowley almost laughed out loud at the sheer audacity of his accusations. If they had been delivered with any less enthusiasm and delectation then he would have felt it his duty to enlighten his new recruit as to the extent of both Bodie’s and Doyle’s reputations where the fair sex was concerned. As it was, Collinson’s obviously deep-seated intolerance was making his blood boil and his presence in Cowley’s office was starting to become claustrophobic.
Cowley carefully capped his pen, replaced it in his pocket, and stood, making it quite clear that the interview was at an end.
“Thank you for bringing your concerns to my attention, 9.8,” he said coldly. “They will, of course, be investigated thoroughly.”
Collinson stood stiffly to attention, and Cowley felt his sense of irritation growing. “Dismissed!” he snapped. He shook his head despairingly as Collinson left the office – he supposed that everyone was entitled to make a mistake once in a while, and Collinson might well prove to be one of his. Agent 9.8 would have to prove himself outstandingly in the field to stand any chance of being kept on in this organisation...
He leant forward and flicked the intercom on. “Betty, did you manage to find Bodie and Doyle?”
***
“So who’s he got in there with him, then?” Bodie, perched on the edge of Betty’s desk, fingered the papers in her in-tray, only to be rewarded by a smart rap on the knuckles with a rather hefty stapler.
“Collinson, and keep your hands off my flimsies.”
“Who?” Bodie sucked on his injured fingers and looked at Doyle for direction.
“New bloke,” Doyle replied.
Bodie shrugged. “Don’t know 'im.”
“Yes you do. Blond fella. Ex-Royal Marines. Stood in a corner by himself at the party last week and nursed a sweet sherry for an hour and a half.”
“Oh, him.”
“Yep. Seemed a bit of a stra...”
Doyle’s observations were cut short as the aforementioned Collinson emerged from the Controller’s office. He cast a disparaging glance at both agents before striding purposefully out the door.
Bodie raised an eyebrow at Betty. “Friendly sort of chap, isn’t he? Hope he hasn’t put the old man in a bad mood.”
The intercom crackled into life before she could reply. Bodie and Doyle both winced at the undisguised vexation in their superior’s voice.
“What have you two been up to now? He doesn’t sound too pleased with you, does he?” Betty’s broad smile belied the apparent concern in her question. Doyle winked at her suggestively as he followed Bodie into Cowley’s office.
***
“He said what!” Doyle found it impossible to keep from guffawing lustily, especially when he caught sight of Bodie doing his goldfish impression. “Is the man serious?”
Cowley held up his hands in submission. “I know, I know...”
“I mean to say, sir. He said that about us?” Doyle looked across at his partner, who remained steadfastly silent. “That’s taken the wind out of your sails hasn’t it, sunshine?” he grinned.
“Hardly surprising, Doyle,” Cowley said sympathetically. He opened the bottom drawer of his desk and produced a bottle of Glenfiddich and three glasses, which he proceeded to fill liberally before handing one to each of his agents.
Bodie took a sizeable swig from his and seemed to regain his equilibrium. “Odd sort of thing to say about someone, sir. What on earth would make him think that Doyle and I are... like that?”
“Apparently he’s basing his accusations on your behaviour after the Christmas party.” He raised a hand to forestall any protestions. “Och, I’ve seen the two of you at enough parties to know the sort of horseplay you get up to, particularly when the sauce has been flowing. If Collinson hadn’t insisted on making the damn thing an official complaint then I wouldn’t even have bothered calling you both in here. But, there – he did, and so I’m obliged to bring it to your attention.” He raised the bottle of whisky and both men held their glasses out enthusiastically.
“And now,” Cowley said before draining his glass with satisfaction, “I consider the matter closed. I’ve wasted enough time on this ridiculous business this morning. I’ve got plenty of real work waiting to be done.”
Bodie and Doyle correctly assumed that to be their cue for departure. They knocked back the dregs of their whisky and left the Controller’s inner sanctum without further delay.
***
“The old man never actually asked us if what Collinson said was true, did he?” Doyle ventured as Bodie started up the Capri.
“Well, he trusts us, doesn’t he? Didn’t need to ask us.”
“Yeah, I suppose so.”
Bodie pulled out of the CI5 car park and stopped at the road junction. “Where to?”
Doyle raised his eyebrows encouragingly. “Chinese back at my place?” he suggested.
Bodie rubbed his hands together with glee before signalling left. “You’re on!”
***
Bodie watched with burgeoning interest as Doyle ran a finger around the inside of the tin-foil tray, gathering up the last remnants of soy sauce which he then proceeded to lick from his finger with lip-smacking relish.
“Mmm... That was good.”
“Yeah,” Bodie agreed a little breathlessly, his attention snared by a small smudge of sauce which glistened at the corner of Doyle’s mouth. Bodie liked the taste of soy sauce a lot, and thought that the act of removing the smudge with his tongue would add even more piquancy to its flavour.
Doyle looked up and caught his gaze. “So, what do you fancy now?” he asked, a wicked grin beginning to break out.
“Bed?” Bodie croaked tentatively, still fascinated by Doyle’s mouth.
The grin grew even wider.
“Christ, yes!” Doyle jumped to his feet and pulled Bodie up from his chair.
“Daft question,” Bodie chuckled as he expertly pulled Doyle’s shirt free of his waistband. “When do you ever say no?”
“To you, mate? Never.” Doyle slipped his arms around Bodie’s waist and nodded, eyebrows raised in expectation, in the direction of the bedroom.
Bodie didn’t need any further encouragement. He willingly followed Doyle’s lead and by the time they reached the bedroom door not a trace of the offending soy sauce remained on his partner’s face. Bodie licked his lips appreciatively, and banished any memories of their near discovery after the Christmas party in favour of thoughts of the pleasures to come...
*********************
Title: False Assumptions
Author: Sally Fell
Slash or Gen: Slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: Yes please
Disclaimer: I don’t own Bodie and Doyle. If I did, do you think I’d be wasting my time sitting here typing this?
My heartfelt thanks go to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
byslantedlight for betaing this at warp-speed! Cheers, sunshine!
“You realise that these are very serious allegations.”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
George Cowley sighed wearily and gestured towards the chair in front of his desk. As the newly-appointed Agent 9.8 obeyed the instruction, Cowley flicked on his intercom. “No interruptions until I’m finished with Collinson, Betty. And see if you can round up Bodie and Doyle for me, would you?”
His secretary replied in the affirmative, and Cowley turned his attention to the man sitting before him. Sitting, Cowley noted, on the edge of his seat and looking extremely uncomfortable – as well he should do, after the ludicrous accusations he’d made. Cowley made a point of relaxing back into his own chair and studied Collinson pointedly. Under his gimlet eye a bead of sweat began to run down the other man’s temple.
Collinson’s military training forbade him to begin the conversation, and Cowley eked out the moment for a full half-minute before speaking.
“You came to me very highly recommended by your commanding officer. The last thing I expected was to have a barrack-room gossip-monger on my hands.”
Nervous Collinson might be, but he was confident enough to look affronted at the insult.
“No, sir. I’m not, sir. I’ve never had any time for idle chit-chat and rumour, sir.”
Cowley leaned forward accusingly. “And yet you come to me with this... this cock and bull story about two of my most trusted agents.”
“With all due respect, sir...”
Cowley held up a hand to silence him.
“You’ve only been with CI5 for a few months, Collinson. You haven’t had time to get to know these men. Bodie and Doyle can both play the comedian when it suits them. To my great annoyance at times, I might add.”
“I know what I heard, sir. And what I saw.”
Cowley cleared his throat, his distaste at the whole business only too evident. “Very well, then. You’d better tell me the whole story.”
“I’d like this to be considered an official complaint, sir.”
Cowley looked aghast. “What? Surely not, man. We can keep this off the record for now, for pity’s sake! The reputations of two good men are at stake here.”
“Nevertheless, I’d rather make it official, sir.”
If looks could kill, Collinson should by rights have been a pile of smouldering ashes. Cowley took a pen from his top pocket and opened his notebook.
“Dates, places, conversations, physical evidence,” he said tersely, without looking up.
“Well, sir. It was after the Christmas party last week. They must have thought they were alone in the...”
He was interrupted by a loud snort of derision.
“Oh, for...” The Controller of CI5 threw his pen down upon his desk in exasperation. “I was at that particular little gathering myself. I saw the amount of alcohol that Messrs Bodie and Doyle imbibed. They were drunk and incapable, man!”
“Not when I saw them, sir. They were perfectly in command of their... actions.” The last word was accompanied by a look of sheer disgust.
Collinson’s stiff and correct demeanour was beginning to grate on Cowley’s nerves. “Let’s not drag this out then, 9.8...”
Cowley sat in silence as Collinson gave a detailed account of the events which followed the CI5 Christmas party as he had allegedly witnessed them, in particular the aspects of the behaviour of Agents 3.7 and 4.5 which had supposedly caused him such distress. Cowley kept his eyes on his notebook, and jotted down a relevant word here and there; “Lewdness”, “Fornication” and “Perversion” seemed to figure frequently in Collinson’s diatribe, along with “Buggery” and “Debauchery”. Words that Cowley hadn’t heard uttered with such relish since a fiery visiting Wee Free minister had put the fear of death into him as an innocent schoolboy.
By the time Collinson had finished his malicious rant Cowley was casting thanks heavenwards that the man was still within his probation period. Even if his two top agents proved to be guilty as charged, there was no place in CI5 for a narrow-minded bigot such as this. Cowley almost laughed out loud at the sheer audacity of his accusations. If they had been delivered with any less enthusiasm and delectation then he would have felt it his duty to enlighten his new recruit as to the extent of both Bodie’s and Doyle’s reputations where the fair sex was concerned. As it was, Collinson’s obviously deep-seated intolerance was making his blood boil and his presence in Cowley’s office was starting to become claustrophobic.
Cowley carefully capped his pen, replaced it in his pocket, and stood, making it quite clear that the interview was at an end.
“Thank you for bringing your concerns to my attention, 9.8,” he said coldly. “They will, of course, be investigated thoroughly.”
Collinson stood stiffly to attention, and Cowley felt his sense of irritation growing. “Dismissed!” he snapped. He shook his head despairingly as Collinson left the office – he supposed that everyone was entitled to make a mistake once in a while, and Collinson might well prove to be one of his. Agent 9.8 would have to prove himself outstandingly in the field to stand any chance of being kept on in this organisation...
He leant forward and flicked the intercom on. “Betty, did you manage to find Bodie and Doyle?”
“So who’s he got in there with him, then?” Bodie, perched on the edge of Betty’s desk, fingered the papers in her in-tray, only to be rewarded by a smart rap on the knuckles with a rather hefty stapler.
“Collinson, and keep your hands off my flimsies.”
“Who?” Bodie sucked on his injured fingers and looked at Doyle for direction.
“New bloke,” Doyle replied.
Bodie shrugged. “Don’t know 'im.”
“Yes you do. Blond fella. Ex-Royal Marines. Stood in a corner by himself at the party last week and nursed a sweet sherry for an hour and a half.”
“Oh, him.”
“Yep. Seemed a bit of a stra...”
Doyle’s observations were cut short as the aforementioned Collinson emerged from the Controller’s office. He cast a disparaging glance at both agents before striding purposefully out the door.
Bodie raised an eyebrow at Betty. “Friendly sort of chap, isn’t he? Hope he hasn’t put the old man in a bad mood.”
The intercom crackled into life before she could reply. Bodie and Doyle both winced at the undisguised vexation in their superior’s voice.
“What have you two been up to now? He doesn’t sound too pleased with you, does he?” Betty’s broad smile belied the apparent concern in her question. Doyle winked at her suggestively as he followed Bodie into Cowley’s office.
“He said what!” Doyle found it impossible to keep from guffawing lustily, especially when he caught sight of Bodie doing his goldfish impression. “Is the man serious?”
Cowley held up his hands in submission. “I know, I know...”
“I mean to say, sir. He said that about us?” Doyle looked across at his partner, who remained steadfastly silent. “That’s taken the wind out of your sails hasn’t it, sunshine?” he grinned.
“Hardly surprising, Doyle,” Cowley said sympathetically. He opened the bottom drawer of his desk and produced a bottle of Glenfiddich and three glasses, which he proceeded to fill liberally before handing one to each of his agents.
Bodie took a sizeable swig from his and seemed to regain his equilibrium. “Odd sort of thing to say about someone, sir. What on earth would make him think that Doyle and I are... like that?”
“Apparently he’s basing his accusations on your behaviour after the Christmas party.” He raised a hand to forestall any protestions. “Och, I’ve seen the two of you at enough parties to know the sort of horseplay you get up to, particularly when the sauce has been flowing. If Collinson hadn’t insisted on making the damn thing an official complaint then I wouldn’t even have bothered calling you both in here. But, there – he did, and so I’m obliged to bring it to your attention.” He raised the bottle of whisky and both men held their glasses out enthusiastically.
“And now,” Cowley said before draining his glass with satisfaction, “I consider the matter closed. I’ve wasted enough time on this ridiculous business this morning. I’ve got plenty of real work waiting to be done.”
Bodie and Doyle correctly assumed that to be their cue for departure. They knocked back the dregs of their whisky and left the Controller’s inner sanctum without further delay.
“The old man never actually asked us if what Collinson said was true, did he?” Doyle ventured as Bodie started up the Capri.
“Well, he trusts us, doesn’t he? Didn’t need to ask us.”
“Yeah, I suppose so.”
Bodie pulled out of the CI5 car park and stopped at the road junction. “Where to?”
Doyle raised his eyebrows encouragingly. “Chinese back at my place?” he suggested.
Bodie rubbed his hands together with glee before signalling left. “You’re on!”
Bodie watched with burgeoning interest as Doyle ran a finger around the inside of the tin-foil tray, gathering up the last remnants of soy sauce which he then proceeded to lick from his finger with lip-smacking relish.
“Mmm... That was good.”
“Yeah,” Bodie agreed a little breathlessly, his attention snared by a small smudge of sauce which glistened at the corner of Doyle’s mouth. Bodie liked the taste of soy sauce a lot, and thought that the act of removing the smudge with his tongue would add even more piquancy to its flavour.
Doyle looked up and caught his gaze. “So, what do you fancy now?” he asked, a wicked grin beginning to break out.
“Bed?” Bodie croaked tentatively, still fascinated by Doyle’s mouth.
The grin grew even wider.
“Christ, yes!” Doyle jumped to his feet and pulled Bodie up from his chair.
“Daft question,” Bodie chuckled as he expertly pulled Doyle’s shirt free of his waistband. “When do you ever say no?”
“To you, mate? Never.” Doyle slipped his arms around Bodie’s waist and nodded, eyebrows raised in expectation, in the direction of the bedroom.
Bodie didn’t need any further encouragement. He willingly followed Doyle’s lead and by the time they reached the bedroom door not a trace of the offending soy sauce remained on his partner’s face. Bodie licked his lips appreciatively, and banished any memories of their near discovery after the Christmas party in favour of thoughts of the pleasures to come...
Title: False Assumptions
Author: Sally Fell
Slash or Gen: Slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: Yes please
Disclaimer: I don’t own Bodie and Doyle. If I did, do you think I’d be wasting my time sitting here typing this?
My heartfelt thanks go to
byslantedlight for betaing this at warp-speed! Cheers, sunshine!
Very late but catching up eventually
Re: Very late but catching up eventually
Very pleased that it worked for you!