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discoveredinaljHappy Holidays to all.
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metabolick at the end of the story!!
Waiting for Green
by krisser
Dusk was quickly changing the shadows in Holland Park. Wind, aiding the transformation, whipped and whirled along the pathway as it sucked up all the leaves it touched. They were deposited every which way in new configurations. Ray Doyle kicked at the moving sculptures and they were reshaped again but he didn't notice. He did notice the cold so he pulled his scarf in tighter about his neck before he pushed his gloved hand back into his pocket.
His brisk pace belied his need to be somewhere, the heavy footfalls more in keeping with his mood. Doyle was confused, angry and disgusted, all with himself. How he'd ever let himself . . . He'd reached a juncture . . . He shook his head to clear it of those thoughts and checked the traffic before he crossed the road to his flat.
Inside, he locked the door but ignored the light switch. The only available light came in from the window and Doyle moved directly to it. He pressed his face against the glass, the cold transferring to his skin. That matched his mood as well. He looked out; the shadows were hardly visible, but he still lost himself in their quicksilver movement.
The wind caught a single strand of fairy lights and twisted it about like a rag doll. The tumbling yellow captured Doyle's attention. It was as though they mocked him when they dipped in and out of sight. He recognised and accepted their conclusion. He was a coward.
Yellow – same as the fairy lights.
It all started in hospital.
Well, maybe it didn't actually start there but his awareness of Bodie and odd feelings had begun there.
He'd been shot, nearly died, well, actually did die, but he'd come back.
Now he knew he’d come back a coward.
In hospital, he had come to consciousness with Bodie's forehead resting against his, a gentle touch – one of reassurance for Bodie that he was still alive. And Bodie had needed to know that. Doyle knew that just as he knew they needed air. It was something he lived with, but never really let himself think about. He had tried to move his hand and all he had known was pain. Sleep had claimed him once more.
He had awoken when the pain receded, unsure of how much time had passed. He had only been aware enough to recognise that Bodie's forehead had been resting yet again against his own. Only this time Bodie's touch had been infinitely more gentle and it had told him that he was treasured. Perception of the moment had washed over him - he was important to Bodie.
Doyle had known that if he'd opened his eyes he could have reassured Bodie that he was treasured as well. . . yet, he had kept his eyes closed.
Over the next several months all need to examine those moments in hospital had receded in the desire to get back on the squad. Recovery had been a slow process. Bodie had been at his side every step of the way. Anger, cajoling, encouragement, black humour, all when needed. Bodie had received in return the sharp edge of his tongue on more than one occasion and had taken it all in stride. That was the way of best mates. Doyle had accepted that.
That enlightened tiny corner of his mind laughed at him. All best mates did that?
He had tried to relegate the entire time in hospital and recovery to the far caverns of his mind but his brain had continued in trying to sort it all. It hadn't done a good job. So he'd tried to put it down to Bodie's relief that his partner was still with the living, but, like a puzzle piece from the wrong box, it didn't fit. He'd seen Bodie when a fellow agent had been injured and this wasn't like that. When the Old Man had been injured Bodie had not displayed what he'd caught a glimpse of in that unguarded moment, the leave to breathe again. Bodie had not even reacted that way when he learned Claire would pull through.
No, this was somehow deeper and he had closed his eyes to it. He really was a coward.
But looking back . . . Ray Doyle shook his head and turned away from the window, hoping he could turn away from his thoughts. The tap, tap, tap of the fairy lights beckoned again and he looked back out the window and looked back in his mind.
They had started out at each other’s throats, barely allies when working in the field and not at all off the job. But facing death, day in and day out, learning to rely on the agent, then the man, had changed both the men and the partnership.
Hadn't happen overnight, but it had happened and now Doyle knew that he trusted no one as he trusted Bodie. Not at the Met, CI5, nor elsewhere in his life.
Best mate. Bodie was that. He knew that he was Bodie’s as well.
He wondered if Bodie knew he was a coward.
He must, to some degree. Doyle recalled the jesting remark from Bodie . . . "That yellow streak down your back."
Bodie probably hadn’t meant that back then, but . . . bloody hell if that wasn't true. He could face a gunman, no problem, but admit to deep feeling – coward.
His family kissed and hugged at holidays, funerals, but no words were uttered. Words of love had never passed their lips.
Doyle hugged his mother, kissed her, thanked her, but he couldn't remember saying aloud that he loved her. She'd probably swat him anyway.
Ann had been a desperate attempt to fit into the traditional idea of a loving relationship. In the end, Ann hadn’t trusted him anyway. Later, he had recognised that he wanted what she had represented, not the person. Bodie had been there to pick up the pieces, and he had realised that he was quite happy with just Bodie’s company. Only, thoughts like that had him turning tail . . . and living up to his new image.
His cowardice had continued in the face of great allegiance. Judging by the dressing down Cowley had given Bodie, and listening to Murphy describe how his partner had boldly disobeyed a direct order and how Bodie had even gone so far as to chastise Cowley on the possibility of losing his partner, Bodie had risked his own job to ensure Doyle's safety.
One could take the watching his back part for granted, but when Alpha One commanded, agents who wanted to keep their jobs didn’t disregard orders. Bodie had and lived to tell the tale, except of course he wasn’t talking. He never actually said everything that had happened. But Doyle knew in moments of self-honesty, few and far between as they were, Bodie had put all on the line for him. Even he couldn't remain that oblivious.
It was there in Bodie's eyes – love, even commitment. His for the taking, only he didn't ask. Each time he had shut his eyes instead. His fear wasn't of the physical relationship, as Bodie probably assumed, oh, no, nothing that simple. He was a Doyle, never simple.
And neither was Bodie.
There was no aloof with Bodie, no watching life from the outside. His fear were the words and what they stood for, confronting them and living them.
But, now, time was running out. He knew it even if he didn’t want to.
Tap, tap, tap. His eyes caught the movement once more. Those fairy lights dancing in the wind may have been yellow, but he was blue, through and through.
Doyle had hoped that life would resume its normal routine. It had and it hadn’t. They had continued on, working and playing together. Not a serious word between them – well, except for the Parsali op. Yet, something seemed different and he was convinced that Bodie was distancing himself.
And then look what had happened.
Soozun.
Bodie had been so gentle with her. So patient.
Doyle had been on the outside the whole op.
But he had seen enough . . .
Bodie didn't even seem to mind working solo. Most times the man groused so much about separating them that he could hardly recall his partner of first days. The few times they were together now, he talked about Susan.
Could this be like Marikka – almost lost him there.
Lost him?
Didn't even know I had him. Doyle shook his head and let it thunk against the window. He called himself the liar he was. Of course he knew.
He could have him if he wanted to open his eyes to it. Or was it his heart? Hadn't been all that lucky in love.
Love? Really?
Was he in love with his partner?
Bloody hell! Was that what this was all about? What he had been ignoring?
The knock at the door brought Doyle back into real time. It told him he was out of thinking time as well.
The knock came again, a little more persistent this time.
Doyle moved toward the sound, switching on the lights before opening the door to his partner, the only person he half expected. Any time, day or night. He stood back and watched as Bodie sauntered in as he always did. Bodie shed his jacket and holster and hung them on the hatstand, as he always did.
Doyle knew in that moment, he didn't want to lose this. Whatever it was, he wanted to keep it.
Bodie had moved to the drinks corner, pouring them both a drink before Doyle realised that he had been lost in thought again.
"Thought you'd be with Susan." That wasn't what Doyle had planned to say, but he knew he really hadn't had anything planned. It was as good or as bad as any start.
"Op's over. She is safely tucked in at her mother's with her refound father in attendance." Bodie shrugged. As Doyle hadn't moved, Bodie walked across the room and handed Doyle his drink, his brow wrinkling slightly.
"Didn't come across?" Doyle was unsure why he even asked.
Bodie sighed as he took a seat at the end of the sofa. "Wasn't like that. She's a lovely bird, just not my type."
Doyle was all set to make the required comeback when it dawned on him that he was relieved and happy at the same time.
"Any grub?" Bodie asked, seemingly unaware of the thoughtful Doyle.
"No, but I'll order Chinese. They deliver." At Bodie's nod, Doyle phoned in an order.
Bodie flipped on the box and all was as it usually was. Or was it?
Bodie was here after all, but was it the same? Not really. What was different then? The banter? No – but Bodie had sighed. Doyle smiled to himself. Bodie sighed when he was exasperated with him. Now Doyle had to face the why of it. He replayed the conversation and figured it was his snarky comment.
Why should that bother him? They always sparred that way. . .well, not so much of late. In fact, Bodie hadn't been doing much in the bird department of late.
Did Bodie have a bird in secret? Did Bodie know what he himself had just discovered? Doyle thought about it when a different conversation popped into his head. Last month's op.
"Didn't know you cared." Bodie had said that when Rahad struck him with the car. Those few seconds had scared him.
What Bodie had said stuck with him, he realised. He could have been saying it in jest, but Doyle knew now he'd meant it.
Bodie didn't know.
Doyle turned around to speak and lost the opportunity as the doorbell buzzed; it interrupted his thoughts and courage completely.
He went to the door, paid, and tipped the man without asking Bodie for a penny. They ate as Bodie finished watching the movie. Doyle had no idea what was actually playing. He tried to follow the plot but finally gave up and carried their empty cartons to the bin. Instead of immediately returning, he moved over to the window where the fairy lights mocked him once more.
Courage.
Did he have this kind of courage?
The kind that was going to change the rest of his life one way or another?
Damned if he knew.
The light and shadow changed behind him. Then he saw Bodie's reflection in the window.
"Ray, is something bothering you?" Bodie query was gentle.
It was almost his undoing.
He looked at the flickering lights . . . coward or courage?
He turned to face Bodie. He took a breath and held it for half a second. "I do care about you. No matter what happens, I want you to know that."
Bodie smiled, contented, "Raymond, of course you do. We're partners."
Doyle took another breath. Coward or courage. Change forever.
"Bodie, it's gone way past that." There was no sigh from Bodie, only a full body relaxing. It was going to be all right.
Bodie's expression had gone quizzical, but he said nothing.
"Frankly, I was worried about Susan." Doyle paused, then admitted, "I was jealous, plain and simple. Had to ask myself why."
"And why were you?" The question was soft spoken.
Doyle smiled. Damn, Bodie was going to make him say everything. He found he didn't really mind. "Want you for myself."
That look was back in Bodie's eyes – the love and commitment – it was all his. Had been for quite a while. Grateful he hadn't lost it, Ray reached out and hugged Bodie tight to him. Bodie hugged him back just as tight.
Before too long, Bodie's hand cupped Ray's face and nudged it upward.
"Finally, the green light," Bodie whispered just before their lips met.
Doyle heard the tapping fairy lights again, only this time they no longer mocked. The yellow was joyful now, like his heart. It was the last coherent thought before he lost himself in Bodie's kiss.
Befuddled and breathless, they finally paused the kiss to allow for large lungfuls of air. A quick stock taken told each the same story. From the goofy smiles to the rock hard erections, they were in the same boat.
They pressed in harder together, revelling in the sensations. Nothing had ever felt this different or this good. They didn't hold back. Passion ruled, hands dipped, lips devoured, satisfaction – foregone but delicious. Bodie rested his head on Ray's shoulder; Ray leaned his head against Bodie's.
Ray Doyle was quite content. "I'm thinking I should say something profound."
Bodie pulled his partner in closer. "Believe me, Ray, you already have."
fin
Author's Note: Once again I am so lucky that my matemetabolick as added her art work.Thanks, Mate! Many, many thanks to my betas.
Title: Waiting for Green
Author: krisser
Slash or Gen: Slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: yes, please.
Be sure to check the pic by
metabolick at the end of the story!!Waiting for Green
by krisser
Dusk was quickly changing the shadows in Holland Park. Wind, aiding the transformation, whipped and whirled along the pathway as it sucked up all the leaves it touched. They were deposited every which way in new configurations. Ray Doyle kicked at the moving sculptures and they were reshaped again but he didn't notice. He did notice the cold so he pulled his scarf in tighter about his neck before he pushed his gloved hand back into his pocket.
His brisk pace belied his need to be somewhere, the heavy footfalls more in keeping with his mood. Doyle was confused, angry and disgusted, all with himself. How he'd ever let himself . . . He'd reached a juncture . . . He shook his head to clear it of those thoughts and checked the traffic before he crossed the road to his flat.
Inside, he locked the door but ignored the light switch. The only available light came in from the window and Doyle moved directly to it. He pressed his face against the glass, the cold transferring to his skin. That matched his mood as well. He looked out; the shadows were hardly visible, but he still lost himself in their quicksilver movement.
The wind caught a single strand of fairy lights and twisted it about like a rag doll. The tumbling yellow captured Doyle's attention. It was as though they mocked him when they dipped in and out of sight. He recognised and accepted their conclusion. He was a coward.
Yellow – same as the fairy lights.
It all started in hospital.
Well, maybe it didn't actually start there but his awareness of Bodie and odd feelings had begun there.
He'd been shot, nearly died, well, actually did die, but he'd come back.
Now he knew he’d come back a coward.
In hospital, he had come to consciousness with Bodie's forehead resting against his, a gentle touch – one of reassurance for Bodie that he was still alive. And Bodie had needed to know that. Doyle knew that just as he knew they needed air. It was something he lived with, but never really let himself think about. He had tried to move his hand and all he had known was pain. Sleep had claimed him once more.
He had awoken when the pain receded, unsure of how much time had passed. He had only been aware enough to recognise that Bodie's forehead had been resting yet again against his own. Only this time Bodie's touch had been infinitely more gentle and it had told him that he was treasured. Perception of the moment had washed over him - he was important to Bodie.
Doyle had known that if he'd opened his eyes he could have reassured Bodie that he was treasured as well. . . yet, he had kept his eyes closed.
Over the next several months all need to examine those moments in hospital had receded in the desire to get back on the squad. Recovery had been a slow process. Bodie had been at his side every step of the way. Anger, cajoling, encouragement, black humour, all when needed. Bodie had received in return the sharp edge of his tongue on more than one occasion and had taken it all in stride. That was the way of best mates. Doyle had accepted that.
That enlightened tiny corner of his mind laughed at him. All best mates did that?
He had tried to relegate the entire time in hospital and recovery to the far caverns of his mind but his brain had continued in trying to sort it all. It hadn't done a good job. So he'd tried to put it down to Bodie's relief that his partner was still with the living, but, like a puzzle piece from the wrong box, it didn't fit. He'd seen Bodie when a fellow agent had been injured and this wasn't like that. When the Old Man had been injured Bodie had not displayed what he'd caught a glimpse of in that unguarded moment, the leave to breathe again. Bodie had not even reacted that way when he learned Claire would pull through.
No, this was somehow deeper and he had closed his eyes to it. He really was a coward.
But looking back . . . Ray Doyle shook his head and turned away from the window, hoping he could turn away from his thoughts. The tap, tap, tap of the fairy lights beckoned again and he looked back out the window and looked back in his mind.
They had started out at each other’s throats, barely allies when working in the field and not at all off the job. But facing death, day in and day out, learning to rely on the agent, then the man, had changed both the men and the partnership.
Hadn't happen overnight, but it had happened and now Doyle knew that he trusted no one as he trusted Bodie. Not at the Met, CI5, nor elsewhere in his life.
Best mate. Bodie was that. He knew that he was Bodie’s as well.
He wondered if Bodie knew he was a coward.
He must, to some degree. Doyle recalled the jesting remark from Bodie . . . "That yellow streak down your back."
Bodie probably hadn’t meant that back then, but . . . bloody hell if that wasn't true. He could face a gunman, no problem, but admit to deep feeling – coward.
His family kissed and hugged at holidays, funerals, but no words were uttered. Words of love had never passed their lips.
Doyle hugged his mother, kissed her, thanked her, but he couldn't remember saying aloud that he loved her. She'd probably swat him anyway.
Ann had been a desperate attempt to fit into the traditional idea of a loving relationship. In the end, Ann hadn’t trusted him anyway. Later, he had recognised that he wanted what she had represented, not the person. Bodie had been there to pick up the pieces, and he had realised that he was quite happy with just Bodie’s company. Only, thoughts like that had him turning tail . . . and living up to his new image.
His cowardice had continued in the face of great allegiance. Judging by the dressing down Cowley had given Bodie, and listening to Murphy describe how his partner had boldly disobeyed a direct order and how Bodie had even gone so far as to chastise Cowley on the possibility of losing his partner, Bodie had risked his own job to ensure Doyle's safety.
One could take the watching his back part for granted, but when Alpha One commanded, agents who wanted to keep their jobs didn’t disregard orders. Bodie had and lived to tell the tale, except of course he wasn’t talking. He never actually said everything that had happened. But Doyle knew in moments of self-honesty, few and far between as they were, Bodie had put all on the line for him. Even he couldn't remain that oblivious.
It was there in Bodie's eyes – love, even commitment. His for the taking, only he didn't ask. Each time he had shut his eyes instead. His fear wasn't of the physical relationship, as Bodie probably assumed, oh, no, nothing that simple. He was a Doyle, never simple.
And neither was Bodie.
There was no aloof with Bodie, no watching life from the outside. His fear were the words and what they stood for, confronting them and living them.
But, now, time was running out. He knew it even if he didn’t want to.
Tap, tap, tap. His eyes caught the movement once more. Those fairy lights dancing in the wind may have been yellow, but he was blue, through and through.
Doyle had hoped that life would resume its normal routine. It had and it hadn’t. They had continued on, working and playing together. Not a serious word between them – well, except for the Parsali op. Yet, something seemed different and he was convinced that Bodie was distancing himself.
And then look what had happened.
Soozun.
Bodie had been so gentle with her. So patient.
Doyle had been on the outside the whole op.
But he had seen enough . . .
Bodie didn't even seem to mind working solo. Most times the man groused so much about separating them that he could hardly recall his partner of first days. The few times they were together now, he talked about Susan.
Could this be like Marikka – almost lost him there.
Lost him?
Didn't even know I had him. Doyle shook his head and let it thunk against the window. He called himself the liar he was. Of course he knew.
He could have him if he wanted to open his eyes to it. Or was it his heart? Hadn't been all that lucky in love.
Love? Really?
Was he in love with his partner?
Bloody hell! Was that what this was all about? What he had been ignoring?
The knock at the door brought Doyle back into real time. It told him he was out of thinking time as well.
The knock came again, a little more persistent this time.
Doyle moved toward the sound, switching on the lights before opening the door to his partner, the only person he half expected. Any time, day or night. He stood back and watched as Bodie sauntered in as he always did. Bodie shed his jacket and holster and hung them on the hatstand, as he always did.
Doyle knew in that moment, he didn't want to lose this. Whatever it was, he wanted to keep it.
Bodie had moved to the drinks corner, pouring them both a drink before Doyle realised that he had been lost in thought again.
"Thought you'd be with Susan." That wasn't what Doyle had planned to say, but he knew he really hadn't had anything planned. It was as good or as bad as any start.
"Op's over. She is safely tucked in at her mother's with her refound father in attendance." Bodie shrugged. As Doyle hadn't moved, Bodie walked across the room and handed Doyle his drink, his brow wrinkling slightly.
"Didn't come across?" Doyle was unsure why he even asked.
Bodie sighed as he took a seat at the end of the sofa. "Wasn't like that. She's a lovely bird, just not my type."
Doyle was all set to make the required comeback when it dawned on him that he was relieved and happy at the same time.
"Any grub?" Bodie asked, seemingly unaware of the thoughtful Doyle.
"No, but I'll order Chinese. They deliver." At Bodie's nod, Doyle phoned in an order.
Bodie flipped on the box and all was as it usually was. Or was it?
Bodie was here after all, but was it the same? Not really. What was different then? The banter? No – but Bodie had sighed. Doyle smiled to himself. Bodie sighed when he was exasperated with him. Now Doyle had to face the why of it. He replayed the conversation and figured it was his snarky comment.
Why should that bother him? They always sparred that way. . .well, not so much of late. In fact, Bodie hadn't been doing much in the bird department of late.
Did Bodie have a bird in secret? Did Bodie know what he himself had just discovered? Doyle thought about it when a different conversation popped into his head. Last month's op.
"Didn't know you cared." Bodie had said that when Rahad struck him with the car. Those few seconds had scared him.
What Bodie had said stuck with him, he realised. He could have been saying it in jest, but Doyle knew now he'd meant it.
Bodie didn't know.
Doyle turned around to speak and lost the opportunity as the doorbell buzzed; it interrupted his thoughts and courage completely.
He went to the door, paid, and tipped the man without asking Bodie for a penny. They ate as Bodie finished watching the movie. Doyle had no idea what was actually playing. He tried to follow the plot but finally gave up and carried their empty cartons to the bin. Instead of immediately returning, he moved over to the window where the fairy lights mocked him once more.
Courage.
Did he have this kind of courage?
The kind that was going to change the rest of his life one way or another?
Damned if he knew.
The light and shadow changed behind him. Then he saw Bodie's reflection in the window.
"Ray, is something bothering you?" Bodie query was gentle.
It was almost his undoing.
He looked at the flickering lights . . . coward or courage?
He turned to face Bodie. He took a breath and held it for half a second. "I do care about you. No matter what happens, I want you to know that."
Bodie smiled, contented, "Raymond, of course you do. We're partners."
Doyle took another breath. Coward or courage. Change forever.
"Bodie, it's gone way past that." There was no sigh from Bodie, only a full body relaxing. It was going to be all right.
Bodie's expression had gone quizzical, but he said nothing.
"Frankly, I was worried about Susan." Doyle paused, then admitted, "I was jealous, plain and simple. Had to ask myself why."
"And why were you?" The question was soft spoken.
Doyle smiled. Damn, Bodie was going to make him say everything. He found he didn't really mind. "Want you for myself."
That look was back in Bodie's eyes – the love and commitment – it was all his. Had been for quite a while. Grateful he hadn't lost it, Ray reached out and hugged Bodie tight to him. Bodie hugged him back just as tight.
Before too long, Bodie's hand cupped Ray's face and nudged it upward.
"Finally, the green light," Bodie whispered just before their lips met.
Doyle heard the tapping fairy lights again, only this time they no longer mocked. The yellow was joyful now, like his heart. It was the last coherent thought before he lost himself in Bodie's kiss.
Befuddled and breathless, they finally paused the kiss to allow for large lungfuls of air. A quick stock taken told each the same story. From the goofy smiles to the rock hard erections, they were in the same boat.
They pressed in harder together, revelling in the sensations. Nothing had ever felt this different or this good. They didn't hold back. Passion ruled, hands dipped, lips devoured, satisfaction – foregone but delicious. Bodie rested his head on Ray's shoulder; Ray leaned his head against Bodie's.
Ray Doyle was quite content. "I'm thinking I should say something profound."
Bodie pulled his partner in closer. "Believe me, Ray, you already have."
fin
Author's Note: Once again I am so lucky that my mate
metabolick as added her art work.Thanks, Mate! Many, many thanks to my betas. Title: Waiting for Green
Author: krisser
Slash or Gen: Slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: yes, please.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-12-23 10:17 am (UTC)The picture is gorgeous too!
no subject
Date: 2010-12-23 10:52 am (UTC)I am so lucky that
no subject
Date: 2010-12-23 12:19 pm (UTC)Oh! And yes, lovely photo art work from
no subject
Date: 2010-12-23 05:41 pm (UTC)Yes,the pic is great and I love how she works to make it match the fic.
no subject
Date: 2010-12-23 01:44 pm (UTC)Have a wonderful holiday!!
no subject
Date: 2010-12-23 05:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-23 03:06 pm (UTC)The only available light came in from the window and Doyle moved directly to it. He pressed his face against the glass, the cold transferring to his skin. That matched his mood as well. He looked out; the shadows were hardly visible, but he still lost himself in their quicksilver movement.
The wind caught a single strand of fairy lights and twisted it about like a rag doll. The tumbling yellow captured Doyle's attention. It was as though they mocked him when they dipped in and out of sight. He recognised and accepted their conclusion. He was a coward.
Yellow – same as the fairy lights.
Lovely writing! And:
The light and shadow changed behind him. Then he saw Bodie's reflection in the window.
I felt Doyle’s own reflecting and soul-searching were really him *and* the contrast between his bravery on the job and his (apparent) cowardice when it came to loving Bodie.
A lovely, Christmassy tale with artwork to match! Thanks for this.
no subject
Date: 2010-12-23 05:54 pm (UTC)It's nice to get art to match the story.
no subject
Date: 2010-12-23 05:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-23 05:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-23 05:58 pm (UTC)This was a wonderfully satisfying read, and the picture is perfect, showing Doyle deeply thinking.
Happy Christmas and tanks!
no subject
Date: 2010-12-24 09:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-23 07:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-24 09:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-23 09:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-24 09:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-23 09:57 pm (UTC)And still he keeps thinking...
Lovely story, thanks for sharing!
no subject
Date: 2010-12-24 09:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-23 10:09 pm (UTC)Super art too. Doyle looks good there. Thanks to M too.
no subject
Date: 2010-12-24 09:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-24 03:49 am (UTC)I really love
Thanks to you both. *hugs*
no subject
Date: 2010-12-24 09:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-24 05:06 pm (UTC)That was lovely, thank you. I love Doyle's indecision, and Bodie's patience with him. The artwork is beautiful too, ta muchly to you both.
no subject
Date: 2010-12-24 06:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-27 03:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-27 06:16 pm (UTC)Catching up on some reading
Date: 2011-01-18 09:42 pm (UTC)