discoveredinalj | 'Coming to the Party' by Jaycat for the Discovered on a Hard Drive challenge

Had been planning on arriving fashionably late because I hate to think of everyone looking at me, but real life intervenes and I’m away from now until after the deadline. If anyone is kind enough to read and comment, please accept my apologies in advance if I don’t reply for a few days.

Coming to the Party

Doyle dragged himself upstairs to his flat after another achingly long day at HQ. He locked the door, poured a whisky and sat down at the table, head in his hands, eyes screwed shut. Work completely filled his waking hours nowadays. That was how it always had been at CI5, of course, but when Bodie was there it had been too much fun to notice, most of the time. After the injuries things changed – Bodie had been desperate to return to fitness, but he was off duty for weeks and then months. He became morose and bad tempered, and eventually was forced to accept the inevitable and resign.

It had dragged on for so long that Doyle was used to working without Bodie even before the bitter end and, ever since, he had been working at HQ with Cowley, seldom out in the field. Training and briefing agents, paper shuffling, processing data on the computer – it kept him busy, kept his mind off the emptiness, the Bodie-shaped hole in his life.

It had never occurred to Doyle that they would actually lose touch. Bodie was always there beside him – never far apart – but when they were no longer in each other’s pockets all day every day, it was different. Doyle was working the usual unsociable hours, he couldn’t talk shop with his old partner anymore, and for the past few months he’d heard nothing of Bodie at all. It seemed the man had just gone to ground.

So when the phone rang and Doyle wearily picked it up, he was startled to hear Bodie’s voice, sounding a little tentative at first, but soon settling into that deep lilt with a dash of Scouse that made his heart lurch. There was a party at Bodie’s house on Saturday, would he come? It was a big, shared house up west. Other CI5 agents were going to be there.

So that was it then, just a casual invitation to a party. Bodie was about to ring off, but Doyle wanted to keep him talking, “So, what are you doing with yourself these days?”

“Me? Oh, this and that. Sleeping, going to the gym, working regular hours. You want to try life outside CI5, it’s alright.”

“Really?” Doyle made encouraging noises.

“Yeah, private security work, mate, pay’s much better than CI5 and you almost never get shot at. They reckoned I wasn’t fit enough for Her Majesty’s secret service, working for lousy pay and shit conditions, but I’m fine for private work, and the money and the perks, you wouldn’t believe.”

“And apart from work?” Doyle asked, wondering how far he could push this conversation.

“Well, there’s been a big change in my life…”

Doyle feared the worst, but made an effort to keep it light, “So there’s someone you want me to meet on Saturday, is that it?”

An indulgent guffaw came down the phone.

“No, mate, nothing like that. But you’ll see… Oh, Ray,” Bodie’s voice became softer and more serious. “There’s a rumour I heard, about you. Better to hear it from the horse’s mouth, though.”

Doyle sighed inwardly. Oh no, here goes, bad news travels fast.

Bodie said it for him, “You’ve come out, to Cowley.”

“Not exactly.” Doyle sighed, might as well be honest with Bodie. “After you were injured I had to do all those assessments about how I was handling it and so Cowley could decide what sort of character to pair me with next. And it sort of… came out. I mean, Kate Ross… we talked about it, and she persuaded me to talk to Cowley. It’s 1984, for heaven’s sake, it’s not such a scandal, is it? Not like it was back when I was in uniform. Better Cowley knows, and hears it from me. Funnily enough, now he won’t pair me with anyone.”

There was a long pause, in which Bodie seemed to be struggling with what to say next. “Why didn’t you say anything before, to me, when we were…?”

“I didn’t know what you’d think. Well, yeah, I did, and it wouldn’t have been pleasant. Thought it would compromise us, working together, if you knew. Believe me, I just didn’t think about it much. You were always around, with a steady supply of birds for both of us. Just didn’t come up. And, before you say anything, no, I wasn’t going out and picking blokes up while we were partnered. This coming-out thing, the way Dr Ross talked about it, was more the potential…”

“Well, I s’pose I should be grateful to you for sparing my feelings. Having a gay partner wouldn’t have done my reputation any good at all,” Bodie joked again. “Look, see you Saturday. Make sure you come, but don’t bring your boyfriend,” he chuckled, hanging up.

Chance would be a fine thing, Doyle thought ruefully, never get out to meet anyone anyway. Doyle poured himself another whisky, his equilibrium upset. In fact, that wasn’t the point, to be honest, he didn’t want to meet anyone else. He’d never thought of himself as queer – he’d been with blokes a few times, in the distant past, and he’d desired Bodie with a passion. Alright, he had loved Bodie, no point denying it to himself in private. Put all that together and he must be gay, or bi, but it seemed unfair that now Cowley had him down as having homosexual tendencies, when he had no intention of hitting the gay scene or engaging in a rampant sex life with anyone at all.

Bodie had taken the news better than he expected, so that was one thing, but maybe it just didn’t matter to him anymore what Doyle did with his life.

At HQ the next morning, Doyle sought out the usual suspects with their tea and biscuits and newspapers in the agents’ rest room. At the sight of Doyle leaning in the doorway the conversation stopped. There was already a sense among the newer recruits that Ray Doyle was set apart from the rest of the Alpha Squad, Cowley”s right-hand man, a thought that gave him no pleasure.

“Any of you lot going to Bodie’s Saturday?”

There were general mutterings of, “Yeah, wouldn’t miss it,” and, “Not my scene, but worth going for a look.”

Then that cocky young Williams piped up, “It’s too much, isn’t it, about Bodie?”

“What about Bodie?” Doyle fixed him with a glare.

“Haven’t you heard?”

“Heard what?”

“About him coming out.”

Doyle fought hard to avoid giving them the satisfaction of his stunned disbelief, but clearly failed.

“You must’ve known, Doyle, oh, sorry, I just assumed you knew,” Jax took pity on his bewilderment, laughing. “Can’t get over it. First you, then Bodie. All those years we used to joke about you two, being like an old married couple. But you weren’t at it, even though we thought you were. And now you’re both queer, separately. Funny how it goes.”

Doyle turned and strode away down the corridor. In the gents he grabbed a washbasin for support, suddenly queasy, took a few deep breaths and slapped cold water on his burning face. He raised his eyes to the mirror and glared at his reflection. What the fuck was going on? Why hadn’t Bodie said anything on the phone? And what was this about Bodie, the macho man, the arch-lecher – gay?

The rest of Doyle’s week was made even more bitter and miserable than usual by the question he constantly twisted and turned and worried in his mind, day and night. Why didn’t Bodie tell me he was gay? Doyle had never let himself begin to hope that Bodie was the sort of man who could want him the way he wanted Bodie. Bodie had even listened on the phone while he confessed about his own outing, and had said nothing, sweet FA. What was he playing at?

One possible answer certainly was, Because he’s keeping it as a surprise for Saturday when we can talk properly. But that seemed weak and feeble in the face of the cold, clawing anxiety, which soon hardened into certainty, Because he doesn’t fancy me. He desires other men, but he doesn’t want me.

If Doyle had ever entertained the laughably far-fetched notion that his partner could have the slightest homosexual inclination, he would have assumed that Bodie would fancy him. Not that he was vain about it, it was more that, even in rampant heterosexual mode, Bodie had always seemed remarkably relaxed about physical contact between them, and seemed to enjoy being close, both physically and emotionally. But, of course, that was because it wouldn’t have meant any more than simple, straightforward matey-ness, or the workings of their legendary CI5 partnership. Still the painful question resounded in his tired brain, Why didn’t Bodie tell me he was gay?

By Saturday, Doyle had finally reached a certain inner peace, or maybe it was just numbness and exhaustion, a state of resignation on the subject. There might just be other fish in the sea. He’d show Bodie. And dammit, he really wanted to see the man, see how he was, how he was living.

Doyle worked late at HQ again, but was determined to make the party. He went home, ate, showered and changed into a pair of particularly tight-fitting jeans and a fresh shirt and jacket. By the time he was strolling along the street towards the house, he was quite looking forward to spending the evening getting completely plastered and maybe even pulling.

The address itself was impressive, a smart street, a Victorian villa with a front garden and its own gravel drive. The party was well underway, loud dance music pumped out from french windows thrown open onto the sultry evening. There were cars parked all along the street, and closer to the house, drunken people were spilling out onto the pavement. In the garden, groups were laughing and couples snogging, and they were all blokes. As Doyle pressed his way up the front steps and into the hot, crowded house, approving looks and even pats on the bottom followed his progress. He found the CI5 agents in a huddle in the hall, backs against the wall, clutching beers and looking uneasy. They were just about to retreat to a pub, curiosity satisfied and unease intensifying.

“Seen Bodie?” Doyle shouted in Murphy’s ear. Murphy nodded and looked over Doyle’s shoulder. Doyle turned.

Bodie stood a couple of paces away, hands on hips. He looked even more tall, dark and beautiful than Doyle remembered, in tight black trousers and a black shirt, open at the neck and rolled back at the cuffs to reveal a gold bracelet. Hot did not come close to describing the effect.

“Ray, for chrissakes, I thought you weren’t coming,” Bodie scolded, cheerfully.

Doyle couldn’t help smiling back. Each took a step forward, and then they were hugging each other and laughing. Bodie’s hands were firm on Doyle’s arms as he held him close, then pulled back to look at him, with an expression of sheer delight that went right to the core of Doyle’s being. When they looked around, the CI5 agents had gone. Bodie waved dismissively in their direction.

“Never mind. C’mon, let’s get you a drink.”

Bodie took his hand, and holding it tight, pulled him through the large drawing room, packed with dancing couples. Doyle allowed himself to be yanked along in Bodie’s wake.

The kitchen was warm, but spacious and gleaming, a hive of industry as a bevy of well-groomed young men milled around, one slicing lemons, another wafting oven-trays of succulent savouries. With an arm firmly around his shoulders, Bodie cheerily introduced Doyle to his housemates and friends, to a chorus of, “Where’ve you been hiding this one, Bodie?” and, “Can see why you wanted to keep him all to yourself!”

A champagne cocktail was thrust into Doyle’s hand. Bodie wandered over to sample the food and was playfully tutted at as he stuffed canapés into his mouth and licked his fingers with relish.

Doyle leaned against the worktop and took in the scene with almost professional detachment. There was a lot to take in. So this was the big change in Bodie’s life – the gay scene. Bodie seemed at home here, relaxed among friends. Yet he was different from his housemates, more coordinated, more aware of his physical presence and his strength. They certainly seemed to like him, judging by all the flirtation, and why wouldn’t they?

Doyle drained the first champagne flute, took another from a tray and drained that, needing the alcohol to relax and undo the mindset he’d got into this past week. And now he couldn’t take his eyes off Bodie. This was Bodie as he had been, before the grinding fatigue and the fear, before the injuries; muscled, trim and fit, brimming over with self-confidence, warmth and humour, drawing people to him, and pushing everything before him in his lust for life. This was the Bodie he’d fallen in love with, years ago, the Bodie he’d thought was gone forever.

The object of his admiration had draped himself over the shoulder of a slim young man who wilted under the weight, but was obviously delighted to be complimented on his “whores d’oeuvres”. Then Bodie returned his attention to Doyle, admonished him for not having a drink in his hand and poured him a whisky, which Doyle dutifully knocked back. Three stiff drinks soon did the trick and he felt himself unwinding inside. He was starting to enjoy the feeling of being the guest of this eminently desirable man.

Bodie grinned. “Reckon I’m getting in the way here, c’mon, better leave ’em to it.”

He took the empty glass from Doyle’s hand. As he did so, Doyle looked up and met Bodie’s eyes, to find there a look that unwound him even more, completely undid him in fact. It was an offer, an invitation and a promise. Doyle felt his knees start to dissolve and his stomach turn over.

Bodie took his hand again and they returned to the drawing room-disco, where the music was as loud as ever, but slower. Without a word, Bodie moved into the crowd thronging the darkened dance floor, and pulled Doyle close to him once more. This time it was no simple manly hug, this was an embrace, not dancing exactly, but moving their bodies together in time with the sultry music.

Feeling he should say something rather than behaving like a dumbstruck fool for the whole of the evening, and with his lips unusually close to Bodie’s ear, Doyle remarked, “If I didn’t know you better, Bodie, I’d think you were comin’ on to me.”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Bodie’s lips feathered on his neck as he spoke. “… Any objections, though, if I do?”

“You’re still standing upright, your balls are still intact, so you can take that as no… no objections.”

“Relax, Ray, it’ll be good, I promise.”

Doyle closed his eyes, and, rather tentatively at first, let his head rest against Bodie’s neck. He felt smooth skin, breathed in the familiar scent of Bodie filtered through expensive aftershave.

He stopped trying to think or reason about what was going on. With the booze, the heat, the rhythm, and Bodie so close, his brain had clocked off and his cock was now firmly in control. Bodie’s arms were around his waist, hands on his arse, drawing them together. Desire surged, and spread through him like fire. Doyle raised a hand to stroke Bodie’s face, fingertips twining the soft black curls that framed it, just as he’d always wanted to. This close he could admire the long dark lashes of Bodie’s heavy-lidded eyes, and feel his warm breath becoming heavier. A strong hand stroked upwards from the small of Doyle’s back, until Bodie’s fingers were sinking into his hair, pulling him closer still. Their lips and tongues met as their bodies responded to each other with greater heat. They were still now, amongst the dancers, lost in each other. Doyle felt Bodie’s other hand trace down the back seam of his jeans, fingertips pressing in hard. He pushed his hips forward in response, trying to bury his cock further into Bodie’s groin, but the black cord was stretched taut.

“Upstairs,” Bodie murmured, thickly, “My room.”

Negotiating their way through the throng draped all over the broad staircase, Doyle had a chance to come back to his senses. While Bodie secured the bedroom door behind them, he instinctively made a reconnaissance of his surroundings. Like the other rooms in the house, it was large and airy, with two tall windows and a chandelier, soft light cast by a bedside lamp. Some familiar pictures hung on the walls, and Bodie’s gun collection. There was antique-style mahogany furniture, not least a large bed, its rich dark coverlet and smooth white sheets turned down with precision. The solid oak door muffled the sounds of the party, leaving just a soft buzz of voices and the insistent thumping of the bass. They were alone together, undisturbed, private in this elegant sanctuary.

Doyle expected Bodie to appear in front of him, and gave a small start at the feel of his partner at his back, removing his jacket. That brief touch, and Bodie’s breath on the back of his neck, made him tingle with pleasure. Bodie pressed close, arms enfolding him, stroking his taut body. Doyle arched his back, exposing his throat to warm soft kisses, while Bodie’s fingers worked at unbuttoning his shirt and removing that too. Doyle reached up, and pulled the dark head back to his throat, his fingers working in Bodie’s silky hair. The sensation of gentle biting on his jawline, the fingers rubbing his nipples, was enough to make Doyle lose control in anyone’s hands, but in Bodie’s hands, it was almost too much. Bodie’s other hand stroked down Doyle’s flat belly to cup the bulge in his jeans, making him thrust helplessly against the strong palm. As Bodie’s fingers traced the length of the hard cock straining against tight denim, he made a short, low growl that sounded alarmingly like the purr of a big cat.

Before it became too much too soon, Doyle turned in towards Bodie and unbuttoned his shirt, wondering how Bodie’s fingers had seemed so sure, when his seemed to have become incapable of doing what he wanted them to. Bodie was massaging his bare back and his arse, and kissing anywhere his lips and tongue could reach. Doyle reached up and smoothed the black shirt off broad white shoulders, and they held each other, skin on skin, for the first time.

“God, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” Bodie breathed, crushing Doyle in his embrace.

And neither do you… With that thought, Doyle pulled away a little. He glanced briefly at the bed, then back to meet Bodie’s eyes. Doyle flashed that bright, open look, unmistakable to his partner, the look he sent him when they were about to step into the unknown, in the face of imminent danger, that said, I’m right with you, let’s do it.

----------------------------------------

Doyle awoke to morning sunshine, the jubilant racket of birdsong and muffled church bells. Slowly opening his eyes, he took in once again the elegant proportions of the room, the chandelier and the decorations, as well as his discarded clothes, and the large and very rumpled bed in which he was lying, but no Bodie. Bathroom maybe. Doyle closed his eyes again.

He moved and stretched, tentatively. He should be feeling stiff and sore, bitten and bruised, but in fact he felt good, relaxed, better than he had for a very long time. He indulged in recalling the pleasures of the night he’d just spent – with Bodie. They were good together, as good as he’d hoped. Doyle allowed himself to feel smug that he was the beneficiary of Bodie’s considerable expertise in that department. Still, he reckoned he’d earned it, all the times he’d saved Bodie’s hide. The condoms had come as a bit of a surprise, but Bodie was insistent and Doyle understood, it was a sign of the times, and Bodie could even make using a condom a highly sensual act.

He rolled on his side to bury his face in Bodie’s pillow, at the same time feeling his cock harden again at the thought of last night, like a randy fifteen year old. But the pillow was cool. Doyle rolled over onto his back again and after a while decided to go and find his friend. He pulled on his jeans and a tee-shirt from the chest of drawers and padded out.

He located a bathroom to use, and then wandered all the way downstairs before he found the man himself. Bodie was unshaven, too, shirt unbuttoned over a tee-shirt and jeans. He was busy tidying away the debris of the party, human and otherwise, picking up glasses and cheerfully ushering a straggler out of the front door.

Bodie returned to the drawing room, saw Doyle, and greeted him with a broad smile.

“Morning, sunshine.” A hug and a kiss, too, that made Doyle feel a little sheepish, he might have to get used to this. Bodie calmly returned to tidying up.

“You don’t have to do this,” Doyle said, gesturing at the scene of devastation.

“No, but it’s only fair. They did all the food and drink. Least I can do is help clean up.”

“It’s very nice, your house.” Doyle ventured on the small talk that somehow they hadn’t got around to last night.

“Yeah. Great people too. It’s been good here.”

“D’you want me to help? I’ll find a tray for the glasses…”

“Nah, you don’t have to. But coffee would be great.”

Doyle grinned, it felt good to be doing something with Bodie again. The kitchen was in a tidier state than most of the downstairs, but even so it was with some difficulty that Doyle found a simple electric kettle, and a small jar of plain instant coffee, and some sugar. He guessed Bodie still took his coffee the same way, poured the boiling water and brought the mugs through.

Bodie led the way outside to the front steps, now warming in the morning sun. There was a spindly table and chairs on a patio nearby, but Bodie made himself comfortable on the steps, stretching out expansively. With an air of great satisfaction he saluted Doyle with his mug.

“Cheers, mate.”

Doyle sat down on the step above, his thigh resting comfortably against Bodie’s shoulder, and together they soaked up the sun and the dewy garden and the birdsong of the new day.

“So, when can you get clearance to move out of your CI5 flat and into civvy street?”

“Pardon?”

“You do want to move in with me, don’t you?” Bodie lowered his eyelashes, pretending to be hurt.

“Sorry, you’re just a bit ahead of me there. Twelve hours ago I hadn’t seen you for months, and then you weren’t fit to talk to. You had this all planned, didn’t you?”

“Be prepared, just one of the things I learned in the Boy Scouts.” Bodie waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Oh, be serious, bloody idiot.”

“That’s not what you called me last night, when I took you to the giddy heights of passion.” Bodie camped it up, warbling in a high-pitched voice, “ ‘Oh, Bodie, do it to me like that again, you gorgeous brute…’.”

Doyle slapped a hand firmly over his mouth. “Shut it. You just invite me to a party, and next thing…”

“Well, it seemed the best way, y’know, no pressure. I had a pretty good idea about you, that you felt the same. Obviously, since I’m irresistibly gorgeous. No, but from how you were with me, things you said and did. Those jeans you always wear for a start, and borrowing my clothes…” Bodie tugged gently at his own tee-shirt, hanging rather loosely from Doyle’s shoulders.

“Oi, you used to borrow mine, too. When you stayed over at my place.”

“What I could fit into, you hardly fit into most of the things you get out in... But I didn’t know for sure, didn’t want to take the chance that I was wrong. Then a couple of weeks ago I bumped into one of the office girls from HQ, a real chatterbox she was, and she told me you’d come out. Must have been broken hearts all round in the typing pool.”

“Oh great,” Doyle interrupted, rolling his eyes. “That wasn’t supposed to go beyond Kate Ross and Cowley.”

“That’s what I thought, so much for security. But I don’t think she’d have said it if she hadn’t assumed I already knew about you.”

“Yeah, know the feeling…”

“So,” Bodie continued, “it just seemed the time had come to see how we stood, if you felt the same as me. And if you were a bit, um, unsure, a party was the perfect cover for me to ply you with drinks and seduce you. Didn’t need to, though, did I? All over me, you were. I’d forgotten what a tart you are, Raymond, a couple of Babychams and you’re anyone’s. Ouch!” Doyle dug a toe into his ribs. “But when you finally got here, last night, and I saw you, your long legs and your arse in those bloody tight jeans, and you whispering sweet nothings in Murphy’s ear… and then you turned to me, your eyes all wide and everything, I was putty in your hands. Same as ever.”

“So you want me to resign? From CI5?”

“Did I say that? No, not at all. You’re much too good at it. You’ll end up as Controller the way you’re going. I’d just rather you kept on working at HQ and did less of the active duties. Want you to stay alive to look after me in my old age.”

“On our civil service pensions?” Doyle grinned.

“Quite. But as I said on the phone, private security work pays a lot better.”

“Will you still be able to do that, if you’re out as gay?”

“The agency people know, and it hasn’t stopped them finding me work yet. In fact, when it comes to bodyguarding the ladies, I think they find it reassuring, at least their husbands do. And as for blokes, it doesn’t seem to matter. My credentials are impeccable, don’t you know. A reference from Major George Cowley really opens doors. No, private security is the life for me. No one owns me anymore. I guess that’s what clinched it for me, coming out. I didn’t have to answer to Cowley, or anyone. I could just be me again.”

“But how come you never told me?”

“Times were different, weren’t they? I mean for queers, when we first joined. And you were there all the time, and there were birds for sex. If I did think about it, I mean, you and me together, it was too dangerous, so I put it away again. I just didn’t dare try it on with you in case you killed me, or it ruined what we had, working together, which was pretty bloody amazing, if I do say so myself. And it was the same for me too, like you said, it came up in all those tests I did with Kate Ross, when I was trying to prove my fitness. All I seemed to prove to her was that I was bent.”

Doyle nodded. “Weird. Maybe it was because then we knew we were going to lose each other, and that brought it to the surface.”

Bodie squeezed his arm, and Doyle thought, But we didn’t lose each other, and I won’t let it happen now.

After a pause, “Bodie, what have we been doing for all these years?”

“Looking out for each other. Loving each other. How else d’you think we both managed to stay alive so long out there?”

“’Spose so. So what’s this about civvy street?”

“Agents don’t have to live in a CI5 flat, do they?”

“Don’t think so, not if they aren’t in the field. But do you want me to move in here? It’s very smart, but it’s still a shared house, don’t think I could handle that anymore, at my time of life, so used to having my own flat.”

“Nah. It’s been good living here, sex on tap, old son. Don’t know why I fucked around chasing women for so long, all that time and money just to get into their knickers, and the blokes here are good company, as long as you prefer sipping chardonnay to downing pints of bitter. But this has just been somewhere to stay while I found my feet again in life after CI5. That’s why I kept away from you, for a while. Now I’m ready to start real life again. The security work’s going to take me away, overseas, some of the time, but I want you to be there to come home to. Or you can come out to where I am, have a decent holiday for a change. I want us to get a place together, Ray… If you want to, that is.”

Doyle set down his coffee mug, relaxed back on his elbows and stretched his legs. He breathed in the morning air and savoured the moment. It was more than he had dreamed possible. Could get all emotional, look deep into Bodie’s limpid pools and give him a soppy kiss. Instead he did his best to sound nonchalant.

“Yeah, sounds good to me. Cowley’ll be pleased about us moving in together, if we’re discreet enough. He really hated losing you, and you just disappearing off the radar like that. And the other agents, it’ll finally confirm their suspicions about us.”

“Oh good, that’s alright then as long as we have the blessing of the family and friends,” Bodie dripped irony. “And what exactly were these suspicions of our brothers in arms?”

“They thought for years we were at it, apparently. Used to joke that we were like an old married couple.”

“Old married couple, eh?”

Doyle realised too late he’d walked straight into the trap.

Bodie was rubbing his hands together with gleeful relish, “Good, that means you know just how I like my eggs for breakfast. Get weaving, sunshine, I’m starved.”

Title: Coming to the Party

Author: Jaycat

Slash or gen: slash

Archive at Proslib: Yes please, this time.
Disclaimer: Bodie and Doyle and CI5 characters do not belong to me, I just like to borrow them for a while and give them back.
Notes: Thank you to the kind people whose reading has immeasurably improved this, jj_minerva, greengerbil and byslantedlight. Infelicities of any sort remain entirely my responsibility.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Yay! This is wonderful. I love both the lads putting on their tightest glad-rags, worried about whether t'other would be interested or not. *snorts* As if.

Now, I didn't even think of that symmetry before - I just like dressing them up. Belated thanks!

I loved this when I was lucky enough to see it in its infancy and I love it even more now. It's so good to finally see it OUT. You kept it under covers for too long. Well done

Thanks so much for your tireless encouragement without which...
And such are the benefits of beta-ing, improving on the original.

What a treat - Bodie all in black (I agree with Doyle; HOT!) and Doyle in his tight jeans ("you hardly fit into most of the things you get out in..."), oh yes!
Doyle sat down on the step above, his thigh resting comfortably against Bodie’s shoulder, and together they soaked up the sun and the dewy garden and the birdsong of the new day.
This is such a delicious sentence that conjures up hope for their peaceful future together. It's my favourite part of the whole fic.

Oh, thank you. There was a scene in 'sex, lies and videotape' with Andy McDowell and the bloke she'd left her husband and uptight life for, sitting on the steps. Ever since, to me, that scenario has epitomised that feeling of being relaxed and unaffected and contented together as a couple, and somehow of having got to the point in the relationship you wanted to get to, where you can draw breath and reflect a bit. That's where that came from - not very original, but I'm so glad it came across to you.

I love your vision of their future together, not to mention your vision of Bodie all in black! ::mops brow::

Thanks for sharing it with us - I really enjoyed it.

A belated thank you very much for commenting, so glad you enjoyed reading.

That was a fun story. I liked how the lads worked their way back to each other. Nicely done. Thank you very much.

Belated thanks for commenting. 'worked their way back to each other' - I like that, thank you.

Oh, this is lovely! Terrific way you had them get together at the end - and I love all that banter.“You do want to move in with me, don’t you?” Bodie lowered his eyelashes, pretending to be hurt.
“Sorry, you’re just a bit ahead of me there. Twelve hours ago I hadn’t seen you for months, and then you weren’t fit to talk to. You had this all planned, didn’t you?”
“Be prepared, just one of the things I learned in the Boy Scouts.” Bodie waggled his eyebrows suggestively. This quiet moment on the steps is my favourite.

Edited 2009-05-30 19:13 (UTC)

Thanks very much. Actually I think that was where the fic started, that and the idea of the lads both coming out when they'd ceased to be partners. As I explained to miwahni above, the sitting on the steps scene, as something to aspire to in a new relationship, was planted enduringly in my young adult mind by the film 'sex, lies and videotape'.

Yum!! Hits all my buttons!! Explains why they never got together in canon, for a start! I adore the vision of Bodie all handsome in black, and of Ray not quite fitting in the clothes he wears. I love Ray's uncertainty, the erotic dance scene and the humour at breakfast. Thanks!

Thank you so much, you've made me smile a lot with your encouraging feedback.

Awwwwwww! ♥ I really needed something sweet (and just snarky enough) today and here it is. :D

I'm really taken with the notion that after all the difficulties and avoidance in the end it's just this simple, the commitement between them long since made. Thanks!

Suitable for a sunny Thursday afternoon even. *vbg*

Yup, just made for each other. I don't *do* angst, as you can tell.

Thanks for reading.

When you live somewhere where the average daily summer temperature is 37C and the average humidity is 92%, "sunny afternoons" lose their charm fast. *g*

I don't do angst... in this fandom. Odd that. *g*

Sorry I'm so late to the party. Fashionably late, methinks, but this is gorgeous! Loved it all.

Thank you so much for reading and commenting - very chuffed to receive praise from you.

But oh gawd, that icon again... it's stalking me. LOL

*g* I shall try to use different ones...

I came wandering across this by accident, and somehow I have never read it before. And it is lovely! I really enjoyed it. Love how they both come out separately. Love Bodie's mischievous invitation and the image of the rest of CI5 showing up through curiosity and then heading off to the pub - how very them! And love how practical they are in the bedroom: they haven't done this together before, but they are confident that it will be good. Can't cut and paste on this phone, but that final sentence of that night, about jumping into danger together, that's just perfect.

Hooray for accidental wanderings through the net - lovely discovery!

'Coming to the Party' by Jaycat for the Discovered on a Hard Drive challenge

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