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sc_fossil, who asked for Bodie is jealous because he accidentally sees Doyle giving Cowley a gift yet he'd got nuttin' from his partner. :) Slash please and a happy ending. I hope this works for you... *g*
A Bottle of Scotch for Bodie
by Slantedlight
“Where’s my whisky then?” Bodie asked belligerently, stepping up behind Doyle and staring after the departing Cowley, hands on hips.
Doyle turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “In the pub, I thought we said…”
Bodie frowned. They had said they’d go for a drink after work - celebrate wrapping up the Griggs affair, seeing the bad guy behind bars for what felt like once in a very long while. But that wasn’t what he meant…
“How come Cowley gets a present then?” He followed Doyle to his car automatically, though there was a part of him protesting every step. “You thinking about leaving me, sunshine?””
Doyle turned a quizzical gaze on him, across the roof of the Escort.
“Up the shiny ladder of promotion, is it?”
“What are you on about?”
Well if he wasn’t after promotion…
Bodie got into the car, slamming the door hard enough that it rocked slightly on its tyres. Why else did you give presents?
Noooooo…
Doyle wouldn’t - would he?
Cowley wouldn’t… would he?
“You didn’t get me a present…” he muttered, doing up his seatbelt. Here it was, their last night together before Christmas, before he headed off to the lure of the luscious Suzanna in Brighton, and Doyle went up north to do whatever it was he did for Christmas… He’d given Doyle the lights for that rustbucket of a bike he was always fixing up the day before - alright, he’d left them wrapped in the newspaper the bloke he’d bought them from had used, but it was a Christmas present just the same - Doyle should know that, shouldn’t he? They’d been a bugger to track down too, all the way up to Enfield, and he’d had to shift himself because the bloody things barely stayed in place longer than it took to phone anyone stupid enough to sell them - five other places he’d tried to get them, but they’d always gone by the time he got there…
Well Doyle could bloody well drive them both tonight then, he decided rebelliously, glaring out the window at the blurred Christmas colours of London in the rain. He was going to make Doyle buy him so much whisky that he passed out… no, Doyle would probably leave him where he fell, miserable bugger. So much whisky that he’d barely get up the stairs… no, same problem.
They paused behind a bus trying to turn right around a corner it was far too big to manage, and Bodie let his gaze slide to Doyle’s profile, hair flopping over his forehead, eyes intent on the road ahead, nose… mouth.
Doyle’s lips, stretched around Bodie’s pri…
The bus turned suddenly - well alright, but it had been a close run thing, nearly had the edge of that wall off - and Doyle leaned forward and peered past him to the left. Bodie snapped his eyes back to the side window.
He’d get so drunk that Doyle had to take him home to bed, and…
…wait a minute…
“This isn’t the Nag’s Head!” They’d pulled into a spot by the kerb, surrounded by tall dark buildings, not a pub in sight.
Doyle looked at him, wide-eyed. “Have you ever thought about working for intelligence, mate? They’d snap you up…”
“What the hell are we doing at your place?” If Doyle thought Bodie was going to hang around whilst he tarted himself up for some posh bird he was planning to pick up… He watched as Doyle got out of the car, crossed in front of it to the pavement, and then opened the passenger seat door and stood leaning on it, staring at Bodie.
“I thought you wanted a whisky? Cheaper here, you know…”
Then he was gone, bounding up the half-dozen steps to his place, leaving Bodie to follow in his wake.
Bloody Doyle. He had a good mind to…
He slammed the car door again, plodded up the steps and then ignored the staircase, pressing the button for the ancient cage of a lift, even if it did always take forever to get there.
What had he done to Doyle that he didn’t deserve a present in return, eh? Nearly three years they’d been partnered now, and they were mates… they were good mates, weren’t they? Good mates bought each other Christmas presents, they didn’t go poncing up to Derbyshire with their posh new birds, leaving their mates stuck on their own at Christmas, and…
He slammed the door to Doyle’s flat behind him, stomped down the hallway and into the…
There was a sudden whirlwind of movement, and he found himself pressed against the back of the lounge room door, a white-shirted Doyle plastered down his front, Doyle’s length to his own, Doyle’s body pressed to his own, Doyle’s pri…
Bodie raised an eyebrow.
“It’s not easy getting hold of lights like that for a Norton,” Doyle said, easing Bodie’s jacket from his shoulders, and causing Bodie’s breath to catch.
He cleared his throat, shook his head.
Doyle let the jacket drop to the floor, and leaned in towards his ear. “I’ve called dozens of blokes about them, and never got a sniff of ‘em,” he whispered, his fingers sliding up Bodie’s chest at the same time, pausing to rub in an interesting way across his nipples.
Bodie managed to nod.
“Called your Suzanna too…” Doyle’s fingers slid south again. “Funny thing… she needs to cancel Christmas in Brighton.”… Further south… “Something came….up.”
Doyle’s fingers were…
“Happy Christmas Bodie…” Doyle mumbled, nuzzling Bodie’s neck with his lips, pulling away just far enough that he could look down, that Bodie could follow his gaze.
Doyle’s fingers had tied their cocks together with a piece of bright red ribbon, so that every movement one of them made just fired the other one higher… so that they were tied together in every way they could be.
Bodie found himself smiling, found himself leaning in to kiss those lips of Doyle’s, moving in a way that made Doyle gasp, pulling away just far enough that when he spoke, he could still feel the brush of Doyle’s lips against his own.
“About that whisky…” he said, “Cowley can have it…”
o0o
Title: A Bottle of Scotch
Author: Slantedlight
Slash or Gen: Slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: Certainly
Disclaimer: The lads and the CI5 universe belong to people other than me, I'm just borrowing...
sc_fossil, who asked for Bodie is jealous because he accidentally sees Doyle giving Cowley a gift yet he'd got nuttin' from his partner. :) Slash please and a happy ending. I hope this works for you... *g*A Bottle of Scotch for Bodie
by Slantedlight
“Where’s my whisky then?” Bodie asked belligerently, stepping up behind Doyle and staring after the departing Cowley, hands on hips.
Doyle turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “In the pub, I thought we said…”
Bodie frowned. They had said they’d go for a drink after work - celebrate wrapping up the Griggs affair, seeing the bad guy behind bars for what felt like once in a very long while. But that wasn’t what he meant…
“How come Cowley gets a present then?” He followed Doyle to his car automatically, though there was a part of him protesting every step. “You thinking about leaving me, sunshine?””
Doyle turned a quizzical gaze on him, across the roof of the Escort.
“Up the shiny ladder of promotion, is it?”
“What are you on about?”
Well if he wasn’t after promotion…
Bodie got into the car, slamming the door hard enough that it rocked slightly on its tyres. Why else did you give presents?
Noooooo…
Doyle wouldn’t - would he?
Cowley wouldn’t… would he?
“You didn’t get me a present…” he muttered, doing up his seatbelt. Here it was, their last night together before Christmas, before he headed off to the lure of the luscious Suzanna in Brighton, and Doyle went up north to do whatever it was he did for Christmas… He’d given Doyle the lights for that rustbucket of a bike he was always fixing up the day before - alright, he’d left them wrapped in the newspaper the bloke he’d bought them from had used, but it was a Christmas present just the same - Doyle should know that, shouldn’t he? They’d been a bugger to track down too, all the way up to Enfield, and he’d had to shift himself because the bloody things barely stayed in place longer than it took to phone anyone stupid enough to sell them - five other places he’d tried to get them, but they’d always gone by the time he got there…
Well Doyle could bloody well drive them both tonight then, he decided rebelliously, glaring out the window at the blurred Christmas colours of London in the rain. He was going to make Doyle buy him so much whisky that he passed out… no, Doyle would probably leave him where he fell, miserable bugger. So much whisky that he’d barely get up the stairs… no, same problem.
They paused behind a bus trying to turn right around a corner it was far too big to manage, and Bodie let his gaze slide to Doyle’s profile, hair flopping over his forehead, eyes intent on the road ahead, nose… mouth.
Doyle’s lips, stretched around Bodie’s pri…
The bus turned suddenly - well alright, but it had been a close run thing, nearly had the edge of that wall off - and Doyle leaned forward and peered past him to the left. Bodie snapped his eyes back to the side window.
He’d get so drunk that Doyle had to take him home to bed, and…
…wait a minute…
“This isn’t the Nag’s Head!” They’d pulled into a spot by the kerb, surrounded by tall dark buildings, not a pub in sight.
Doyle looked at him, wide-eyed. “Have you ever thought about working for intelligence, mate? They’d snap you up…”
“What the hell are we doing at your place?” If Doyle thought Bodie was going to hang around whilst he tarted himself up for some posh bird he was planning to pick up… He watched as Doyle got out of the car, crossed in front of it to the pavement, and then opened the passenger seat door and stood leaning on it, staring at Bodie.
“I thought you wanted a whisky? Cheaper here, you know…”
Then he was gone, bounding up the half-dozen steps to his place, leaving Bodie to follow in his wake.
Bloody Doyle. He had a good mind to…
He slammed the car door again, plodded up the steps and then ignored the staircase, pressing the button for the ancient cage of a lift, even if it did always take forever to get there.
What had he done to Doyle that he didn’t deserve a present in return, eh? Nearly three years they’d been partnered now, and they were mates… they were good mates, weren’t they? Good mates bought each other Christmas presents, they didn’t go poncing up to Derbyshire with their posh new birds, leaving their mates stuck on their own at Christmas, and…
He slammed the door to Doyle’s flat behind him, stomped down the hallway and into the…
There was a sudden whirlwind of movement, and he found himself pressed against the back of the lounge room door, a white-shirted Doyle plastered down his front, Doyle’s length to his own, Doyle’s body pressed to his own, Doyle’s pri…
Bodie raised an eyebrow.
“It’s not easy getting hold of lights like that for a Norton,” Doyle said, easing Bodie’s jacket from his shoulders, and causing Bodie’s breath to catch.
He cleared his throat, shook his head.
Doyle let the jacket drop to the floor, and leaned in towards his ear. “I’ve called dozens of blokes about them, and never got a sniff of ‘em,” he whispered, his fingers sliding up Bodie’s chest at the same time, pausing to rub in an interesting way across his nipples.
Bodie managed to nod.
“Called your Suzanna too…” Doyle’s fingers slid south again. “Funny thing… she needs to cancel Christmas in Brighton.”… Further south… “Something came….up.”
Doyle’s fingers were…
“Happy Christmas Bodie…” Doyle mumbled, nuzzling Bodie’s neck with his lips, pulling away just far enough that he could look down, that Bodie could follow his gaze.
Doyle’s fingers had tied their cocks together with a piece of bright red ribbon, so that every movement one of them made just fired the other one higher… so that they were tied together in every way they could be.
Bodie found himself smiling, found himself leaning in to kiss those lips of Doyle’s, moving in a way that made Doyle gasp, pulling away just far enough that when he spoke, he could still feel the brush of Doyle’s lips against his own.
“About that whisky…” he said, “Cowley can have it…”
Title: A Bottle of Scotch
Author: Slantedlight
Slash or Gen: Slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: Certainly
Disclaimer: The lads and the CI5 universe belong to people other than me, I'm just borrowing...
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Date: 2012-12-21 08:39 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2012-12-22 12:06 am (UTC)Delicious, thank you!
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Date: 2012-12-22 12:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-22 10:38 am (UTC)... and my icons won't load, so here, have my default. *g*
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Date: 2012-12-22 10:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-22 02:15 pm (UTC)Brilliant fun, thank you. I love Doyle ploughing on regardless of Bodie's sulk, and taking control of every-little-thing *g*
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