Discovered in a Valentine
Feb. 14th, 2009 09:56 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
mab-browne.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
discoveredinaljIt's been Valentine's Day for ten hours where I am, and since it's going to be a busy weekend I thought I'd get the posting in while I had the chance. :-)
Two Holiday Observances
Twelfth Night
Bodie likes Ray's hands. Likes most things about Ray, even the unattractive qualities like his temper and an inclination to over think the occasional issue, and his tendency to buy Australian wines and reminisce about bloody Esther. Just as well she preferred life in the mysterious East; Bodie always did have her pegged as a bigger threat than Miss Ann la-di-dah Holly.
He watches now, while Ray's hands nervously twirl the stalk of an apple, a Golden Delicious, come all the way from sunnier climes than London in January. Twist, twist, twist, the stalk finally breaking off as Ray says, "I dunno, Bodie. Can't say as I ever fancied myself as a poofter."
Bodie refuses to let his internal wince show on his face. "Gathered that from when you told me that you'd looked but not touched. Thing is, Ray, you did say that you'd looked."
"And you immediately assumed that because I've looked, that I'd be up for a bit of queer slap and tickle?" Sizzling vitriol – something that Ray feels more comfortable with than his earlier gobsmacked confusion, presumably. Bodie can't exactly say the same as it splashes over him, but he soldiers on anyway.
"I'm not assuming anything. But I just thought..."
"What? Thought I looked like a bum boy, did you?"
Enough. Time to end this disaster, although not without a parting salvo of his own.
"Not at all, goldilocks. Such a butch, beautiful thing that you are." He turns on his heel, smart as on parade, and makes his retreat in good order; unfortunately, the gears of the car make humiliating graunching noises within earshot of Ray's flat. He never misses the gears. Never.
He's been back in his flat for all of five minutes when the phone rings.
"Yeah," he snarls into the receiver.
"It's me."
"Is it? Never would have guessed. What do you want?"
"I was an arsehole."
"Yes, Doyle, you were. Apology accepted." Bodie wants this over and done with. The 'let's forget it ever happened' offer must be close and he'd rather that it went unsaid.
"I was surprised."
"I know." Bodie's spine itches. He's prepared to believe Cowley when he says that he doesn't bug the flats, but the phone lines are randomly monitored according to some arcane schedule, and he can't bear the thought that this could be the moment.
"I'll think about it."
Bodie stares blankly at the wall.
"You what?" he says gormlessly.
"I said that I'll think about it," Ray replies with rough asperity, and hangs up.
"Well, bugger me." And then, realising what he's just said, Bodie begins to laugh in helpless amusement.
***
Valentine's Day
There's a box sitting on Ray's table, covered in shiny paper with a frighteningly froufrou bow exploding over the top. It makes Bodie's heart sink, but it also makes him desperately curious. He can't imagine any bird who would take Ray Doyle's interest requiring a token this aggressively pink and gleaming.
"What's this then?" he asks.
The box isn't the only thing about that's aggressive. "It's Valentine's Day isn't it?" Stroppy bugger; nervy as a bad-tempered cat. Bodie feels his heart sink that bit more, but he rallies. The only thing more stupid than giving your heart to a dog to tear is offering it up to Ray Doyle in a mood.
"Keeping her a secret are you? Hand on heart, Doyle, I'll leash the charm..."
"You on a leash, mate? That I'd give good money to see. It's for you. You're the one who said that I was – what was it – butch and beautiful. I reckon that puts me in the gift-giving role for today."
For a moment, Bodie has an almost uncontrollable impulse to hit Ray. Insolent little bastard, keeping his mouth closed and his face shuttered all these weeks and now taking that conversation and making a fucking joke out of it. But Bodie's been reading Ray's body language for a long time now. The look in his eye is challenging – it always is. The poise is that of a man primed for the fight he might have started, waiting and ready, but the hard-edged glitter of gray-green eyes is genuinely anxious.
Bodie might later analyse the process which informs his actions. Ray's making an offer, and if Bodie no longer wants it or takes it wrong, yes, of course, it's a stupid prank between mates, or a nasty joke between the normal bloke and the poofter. Ray's been listening to too many of Cowley's lectures on triple think. Twisty and twistier.
Whereas what Bodie has to do is very, very straightforward. He sits down at the table and smiles like a happy child. "For me? Shouldn't have, mate."
"That's what I'm starting to think." Ray remains standing, arms uncompromisingly crossed across his chest; the last bastion of defence.
Bodie is very careful about taking the wrapping apart. "Have to save this. Never know when it might be useful," he says, as his fingernail carefully lifts the sellotape, and gently unpeels the paper in all its surgical-appliance-coloured glory. Underneath it all is a box of Mr Cadbury's fine products. Glass and a half of full cream milk and all that. Bodie isn't so careful with the cellophane around the box, as the rich scent of chocolate fills his nostrils.
"Thought I should lift your horizons beyond Swiss roll," Ray says, sounding as sour as the chocolates smell sweet.
The lid opened, Bodie takes his time before selecting the Turkish delight, which he pops into his mouth, barely tasting it. Still...."Good this. Want one?"
"If you don't mind sharing." Bodie knows every chord and timbre of Ray's voice. Something's relaxed, accepted the decision proffered with the silly gift. And yes, Bodie minds sharing very much, but that's a conversation for another day.
A quick recce of the assortment list enables Bodie to pick out a peppermint creme. He doesn't want Ray's mouth occupied with chocolate for too long. He stands and walks to Ray, not so very far away, and places fingers and the chocolate they hold close to Ray's mouth. "Open wide," he requests. Ray opens his mouth like a baby bird's, and treat deposited, Bodie's fingers are returned unmutilated.
"All right?" Bodie asks. He's not enquiring about the taste of the chocolate.
Ray's tongue slips out. Maybe he really is thinking about the taste of the chocolate. Maybe he's being a tease. Bodie knows which one he'd plump for.
"Not bad."
"I've always suspected you were better than simply 'not bad', Ray," Bodie says. And finally he gets a smile, mischievous and relieved although still unsure; so Ray gets his Valentine's Day present in the form of a chocolate-flavoured kiss.
Title: Two Holiday Observances
Author: Mab Browne
Disclaimer: If Mr Clemens et al got annoyed, would it help to know that I know I don't own these lads, and I certainly don't make any money out of them...
Notes: Thank you very much to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
runriggers and janedavitt for beta work. My prompt was "Think of five or six names of boys or girls you might marry, As you twist the stem of an apple, recite the names until the stem comes off. You will marry the person whose name you were saying when the stem fell off."
Two Holiday Observances
Twelfth Night
Bodie likes Ray's hands. Likes most things about Ray, even the unattractive qualities like his temper and an inclination to over think the occasional issue, and his tendency to buy Australian wines and reminisce about bloody Esther. Just as well she preferred life in the mysterious East; Bodie always did have her pegged as a bigger threat than Miss Ann la-di-dah Holly.
He watches now, while Ray's hands nervously twirl the stalk of an apple, a Golden Delicious, come all the way from sunnier climes than London in January. Twist, twist, twist, the stalk finally breaking off as Ray says, "I dunno, Bodie. Can't say as I ever fancied myself as a poofter."
Bodie refuses to let his internal wince show on his face. "Gathered that from when you told me that you'd looked but not touched. Thing is, Ray, you did say that you'd looked."
"And you immediately assumed that because I've looked, that I'd be up for a bit of queer slap and tickle?" Sizzling vitriol – something that Ray feels more comfortable with than his earlier gobsmacked confusion, presumably. Bodie can't exactly say the same as it splashes over him, but he soldiers on anyway.
"I'm not assuming anything. But I just thought..."
"What? Thought I looked like a bum boy, did you?"
Enough. Time to end this disaster, although not without a parting salvo of his own.
"Not at all, goldilocks. Such a butch, beautiful thing that you are." He turns on his heel, smart as on parade, and makes his retreat in good order; unfortunately, the gears of the car make humiliating graunching noises within earshot of Ray's flat. He never misses the gears. Never.
He's been back in his flat for all of five minutes when the phone rings.
"Yeah," he snarls into the receiver.
"It's me."
"Is it? Never would have guessed. What do you want?"
"I was an arsehole."
"Yes, Doyle, you were. Apology accepted." Bodie wants this over and done with. The 'let's forget it ever happened' offer must be close and he'd rather that it went unsaid.
"I was surprised."
"I know." Bodie's spine itches. He's prepared to believe Cowley when he says that he doesn't bug the flats, but the phone lines are randomly monitored according to some arcane schedule, and he can't bear the thought that this could be the moment.
"I'll think about it."
Bodie stares blankly at the wall.
"You what?" he says gormlessly.
"I said that I'll think about it," Ray replies with rough asperity, and hangs up.
"Well, bugger me." And then, realising what he's just said, Bodie begins to laugh in helpless amusement.
***
Valentine's Day
There's a box sitting on Ray's table, covered in shiny paper with a frighteningly froufrou bow exploding over the top. It makes Bodie's heart sink, but it also makes him desperately curious. He can't imagine any bird who would take Ray Doyle's interest requiring a token this aggressively pink and gleaming.
"What's this then?" he asks.
The box isn't the only thing about that's aggressive. "It's Valentine's Day isn't it?" Stroppy bugger; nervy as a bad-tempered cat. Bodie feels his heart sink that bit more, but he rallies. The only thing more stupid than giving your heart to a dog to tear is offering it up to Ray Doyle in a mood.
"Keeping her a secret are you? Hand on heart, Doyle, I'll leash the charm..."
"You on a leash, mate? That I'd give good money to see. It's for you. You're the one who said that I was – what was it – butch and beautiful. I reckon that puts me in the gift-giving role for today."
For a moment, Bodie has an almost uncontrollable impulse to hit Ray. Insolent little bastard, keeping his mouth closed and his face shuttered all these weeks and now taking that conversation and making a fucking joke out of it. But Bodie's been reading Ray's body language for a long time now. The look in his eye is challenging – it always is. The poise is that of a man primed for the fight he might have started, waiting and ready, but the hard-edged glitter of gray-green eyes is genuinely anxious.
Bodie might later analyse the process which informs his actions. Ray's making an offer, and if Bodie no longer wants it or takes it wrong, yes, of course, it's a stupid prank between mates, or a nasty joke between the normal bloke and the poofter. Ray's been listening to too many of Cowley's lectures on triple think. Twisty and twistier.
Whereas what Bodie has to do is very, very straightforward. He sits down at the table and smiles like a happy child. "For me? Shouldn't have, mate."
"That's what I'm starting to think." Ray remains standing, arms uncompromisingly crossed across his chest; the last bastion of defence.
Bodie is very careful about taking the wrapping apart. "Have to save this. Never know when it might be useful," he says, as his fingernail carefully lifts the sellotape, and gently unpeels the paper in all its surgical-appliance-coloured glory. Underneath it all is a box of Mr Cadbury's fine products. Glass and a half of full cream milk and all that. Bodie isn't so careful with the cellophane around the box, as the rich scent of chocolate fills his nostrils.
"Thought I should lift your horizons beyond Swiss roll," Ray says, sounding as sour as the chocolates smell sweet.
The lid opened, Bodie takes his time before selecting the Turkish delight, which he pops into his mouth, barely tasting it. Still...."Good this. Want one?"
"If you don't mind sharing." Bodie knows every chord and timbre of Ray's voice. Something's relaxed, accepted the decision proffered with the silly gift. And yes, Bodie minds sharing very much, but that's a conversation for another day.
A quick recce of the assortment list enables Bodie to pick out a peppermint creme. He doesn't want Ray's mouth occupied with chocolate for too long. He stands and walks to Ray, not so very far away, and places fingers and the chocolate they hold close to Ray's mouth. "Open wide," he requests. Ray opens his mouth like a baby bird's, and treat deposited, Bodie's fingers are returned unmutilated.
"All right?" Bodie asks. He's not enquiring about the taste of the chocolate.
Ray's tongue slips out. Maybe he really is thinking about the taste of the chocolate. Maybe he's being a tease. Bodie knows which one he'd plump for.
"Not bad."
"I've always suspected you were better than simply 'not bad', Ray," Bodie says. And finally he gets a smile, mischievous and relieved although still unsure; so Ray gets his Valentine's Day present in the form of a chocolate-flavoured kiss.
Title: Two Holiday Observances
Author: Mab Browne
Disclaimer: If Mr Clemens et al got annoyed, would it help to know that I know I don't own these lads, and I certainly don't make any money out of them...
Notes: Thank you very much to
runriggers and janedavitt for beta work. My prompt was "Think of five or six names of boys or girls you might marry, As you twist the stem of an apple, recite the names until the stem comes off. You will marry the person whose name you were saying when the stem fell off."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-02-13 10:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-13 10:41 pm (UTC)Lovely! You've got them just the way I like them: Bodie on the slow burn and Doyle being pissy and difficult.
Happy Valentine's Day and thank you.
no subject
Date: 2009-02-13 11:14 pm (UTC)But then Doyle got his head screwed on right and we all go: Aww~ :3
So cute! Great work! :)
no subject
Date: 2009-02-13 11:43 pm (UTC)Happy Valentine's Day.
Date: 2009-02-14 12:05 am (UTC)I really like the way the two parts work together here.
In the first one, those stripped gears are so telling and it seems very in character for Bodie to cut his losses and leave. It also seems very in character for Ray to need to think about it.
And then the delight of the gaudy box, Bodie's sinking confidence and his assumption that it has to be for a woman.
A pissy Doyle and a quickly defensive but trying to be rational about it all Bodie? Lovely!
Thank you. :D
no subject
Date: 2009-02-14 01:14 am (UTC)This was a great line! LOL! Very nice. I liked the way you gave us such a sad Bodie, who needed to save a little dignity even after stripping the gears. And the gift. Really sweet, especially the chocolate-flavoured kiss.
Thanks!
no subject
Date: 2009-02-14 01:49 am (UTC)And yes, Bodie minds sharing very much, but that's a conversation for another day.
Heh. And that suggest so much more for them ahead...*g*
Thank you!
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Date: 2009-02-14 08:17 pm (UTC)Re: Happy Valentine's Day.
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Date: 2009-02-15 01:20 pm (UTC)Thanks for this!
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Date: 2009-02-18 09:23 pm (UTC)This was just wonderful and I really enjoyed it. I like how you have captured Bodie being unsure and uncomfortable and the way Doyle, eventually, lets him know his decision. Thank you.
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