discoveredinalj | Discovered Whilst Camping Fic Challenge (Reply)

A small offering from me, kickstarted by the prompt "sleeping bags":

Camping for Beginners
or
My Guy...rope

"I am not," Doyle said forcefully, a definite curl to his lip, "sleeping in that!"

Bodie looked back at him bemusedly. "What's wrong with it?"

"What's wrong with it? Look at it!" He tentatively poked at the khaki-coloured sleeping bag with his foot, seemingly afraid that something was going to leap out and poke him back.

"All good gear this," his partner protested. "Army surplus."

"Yeah, but whose army? The bloody Kaiser's?"

"Come on, mate. It's saved us a fortune getting all our kit from the Surplus Shop instead of one of those poncey camping places. Better quality too – made to last, this stuff is."

"My point exactly," Doyle sniffed. He looked disconsolately at the tent that Bodie was courageously attempting to erect singlehandedly. "And I'm sure I saw one of those on the Antiques Roadshow last week..."

Bodie cast a baleful eye his way. "You could give us a hand, y'know, instead of standing around looking decorative." He huffed and puffed a few times for effect, but to no avail.

"Nah, be more of a hindrance than a help, wouldn't I. You look as though you know what you're doing."

Bodie grimaced in his direction then, with a final grunt of triumph, he stepped back to admire his handiwork. "What d'you think?"

Doyle considered the tent for a moment. "Very nice. Where's mine?"

Bodie blinked. "What d'you mean, where's yours? That's it."

"You mean both of us are supposed to sleep in that?"

" 'Course we are. Two-man bivvy." He gave Doyle a none-too-gentle nudge in the ribs and leered at him. "Very cosy."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Look, Bodie, I don't think..."

Bodie's spirits were far too high to brook any protests. He leapt from the tent to the car and began pulling boxes from the boot.

"Here," he said, thrusting a metal contraption into Doyle's midriff. "Get the Primus going and we'll have a cuppa while we get sorted."

Doyle looked blankly at the object in his hands. "Get the what going?"

"The Pri..." Bodie stopped and eyed him suspiciously. "I thought you told me you'd been camping before."

"Yeah, I have... but..."

"But what?"

Doyle flailed an arm in the general direction of the campsite. "It wasn't anything like this."

Bodie, his interest now piqued, stood with arms akimbo and waited for more.

"It was when I was seeing that posh bird," Doyle elaborated.

"Who, Miss Fur-Coat-And-No-Knickers?"

"Yeah, whatsername. Fiona. Anyway, we went on this camping weekend, bloody great campsite it was, with all these posh tents. Massive they were, proper bedroom, living room, even a separate little loo. All ready and waiting for us when we got there, we didn't have to lift a finger."

Bodie's jaw dropped. "That's not bloody camping!" he roared. "This is camping! Back to basics! Nature in the raw!"

Doyle eyed the tiny tent purposefully, then treated Bodie to a similar inspection. “In the raw, eh? Should be interesting.”

Bodie, however, had warmed to his subject. “And I suppose that was where you didn’t learn how to use a Primus stove?”

Doyle shrugged “No need to. There was a bloody great clubhouse. Five star restaurant, dinner and dancing, the lot.”

Bodie shook his head in exasperation. “I don’t believe this...”

“Right then,” Doyle suddenly exclaimed, rubbing his hands together enthusiastically. “What do we do next?”

Bodie looked at his watch. “We find a pub.”

***

Several hours later, with numerous pints of the Dog and Duck's best bitter and a sizeable plate of steak pie and three veg inside him, Bodie's mood had mellowed somewhat. Doyle was similarly content with his lot as they walked along the deserted and dimly-lit country lane that led back to the campsite, and he took advantage of their solitude by snaking an arm around Bodie's waist and falling into step alongside him. As they reached the five-bar gate which marked the entrance to the camping field Doyle drew his partner to a sudden halt. Beyond the patchy street lighting the field was as black as pitch.

"Bloody hell!" he groaned. "We're never going to find our tent in this!"

Bodie winked knowingly in reply and extracted a torch from the pocket of his jacket. "Be prepared," he intoned. "Once a Boy Scout, always a Boy Scout."

"Yeah, well, I took..."

"Yeah, I know. You took dancing lessons instead." Bodie grinned. "Bet you looked a treat in tights and a tutu."

Doyle looked indignant. "Hey, don't knock it. I'll have you know that people used to come for miles to see my entrechat."

Bodie leered back at him. "I'll just bet they did."

Doyle chose to ignore him, and reached for the torch instead. "Here, give us that. I can't see a bloody thing."

Bodie hung onto it possessively. "I suppose," he replied disdainfully, "your five-star campsite with all mod cons, including hot and cold running birds, was lit up like Blackpool Illuminations."

"Certainly was, and it had proper tarmac paths too." Doyle kicked out at a lump of muddy grass. "None of this rubbish."

The two CI5 men had purposely pitched their tent in the most secluded corner of the campsite, in order to guarantee themselves maximum privacy, and they picked their way carefully across the field toward it. As the tent, with the familiar shape of Bodie's Capri parked alongside it, loomed out of the murk Bodie leapt forward. "Ah, there she is!" he cried. "Our own little palace of fun!"

The fun however – at least from Doyle's point of view – was just about to begin. He watched enthralled as his partner suddenly collapsed in a heap, one foot entwined in a flapping guy rope, and proceeded to demolish the tent in one fell swoop.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Doyle guffawed, bending to retrieve the torch which had landed at his feet. He shone the beam at the flailing mass of arms, legs, rope and canvas and tried unsuccessfully to stifle an extremely loud bellylaugh.

In contrast, the noises emanating from the direction of the tent were not those of amusement. "Don't just stand there, Doyle!" Bodie growled. "Give me a bloody hand." The round of applause that Bodie got in reply did nothing to calm him down.

"Very funny. Just... Jesus Christ, I'm covered in shit. There's a fucking cowpat down here somewhere... And I've twisted me ankle...And look at the bloody tent!"

Doyle held out a rather unsteady hand as his partner's predicament finally began to temper his mirth. "Here, let's get you up. Lean on me, sunshine." He extricated the car keys from Bodie's pocket and helped him hobble over to the Capri, opening the passenger door so that Bodie could sit inside. "Right, Long John, you just sit here and take care of the torch. And don't get cow shit on that seat."

While Bodie nursed his sore ankle and his wounded pride Doyle found the mallet in the car boot and proceeded to re-erect the tent with ease, despite the somewhat wayward torch beam which tended to waver about slightly whenever Bodie found yet another bruised part of his anatomy. Satisfied at last that the tent could withstand whatever the elements - and Bodie - could throw at it, Doyle tied back the door flap and waved his partner over.

***

"Good idea of yours to bring these blankets along. Couldn't have fancied kipping in that sleeping bag, y'know. God only knows what biological stains are lurking on the inside. People get up to some funny things in tents." Doyle turned to face Bodie and edged even closer to him. "Anyway, 's much more cosy like this..."

Bodie grinned and slung an arm around him. "Yeah, it is," he murmured contentedly, his eyes drifting closed as he relaxed in the aftermath of their lovemaking. "Thanks for taking care of the tent earlier, Ray. You did a good job..."

His eyes suddenly shot open. "Hang about. You did a bloody good job for someone who'd never put up a tent in their life before."

Doyle had the good grace to look abashed. "Oh. Well, I was going to tell you about that. Sooner or later."

"You little toerag. You let me do all the bloody work while you sat around on your backside. Just how many times have you been camping?"

Doyle shrugged. "Most weekends in the summer holidays when I was a kid. Used to go with my big brother and his mates – they used to make me do most of the work because I was the smallest, the bastards. Had to learn how to put up a tent pretty quickly. Ow!"

Bodie's fingers had found a convenient niche under Doyle's ribs and he hung on with grim determination. "You'll pay for that, Doyle, just as soon as I decide what your punishment's going to be."

Doyle wriggled seductively along the length of his lover's body, and Bodie's grip turned into a caress.

"Well, you know what you were saying before, about 'back to basics' and all that?" Doyle purred in his ear.

Bodie was rapidly being reduced to incoherence. "Mmmm," was all he could manage in reply.

Doyle bit down gently on his earlobe. "You could always give me a bit more instruction in that 'nature in the raw' business..."

And Bodie, ever attentive to his partner's needs, was happy to oblige.

Title: Camping for Beginners or My Guy...rope
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?