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discoveredinaljOoh, it is my day. I have another day for some other stuff, but today is a story day. Please don't look at the calendar too closely. Ahem.
The Longest Night
21st September 1979
"Jesus Christ, Bodie!" The words erupted out of him.
"What?" Bodie raised an eyebrow – the left, Doyle thought wildly, why did I never realise it made him look so like the devil? Get thee behind—no, wait, not behind, not at all...
He tried to collect himself. "You actually mean it, don't you?"
Bodie wasn't going to help him, he could see that.
"Mean what?"
Doyle shifted his stance. "All that..." He moved his arse out of the reach of Bodie's hands. "That."
Why couldn't Bodie look embarrassed or something? It wasn't like Doyle should feel awkward, surely? He intensified his glare. Bodie held his gaze without concern.
"If you didn't like it, Ray, you've taken a bloody long time to realise it. And even longer to tell me." Exaggeratedly, he moved his hand further away. "But there you go. Better?"
Despite himself, Doyle took a step forward. Can't back down now. "You fancy me. All that..." he gestured again, "You're copping a feel every time I turn around!"
"Not every time, no. Credit me with some restraint." Bodie's leisurely tone was at odds with the tension around his eyes.
Doyle didn't let it go. "This all a preliminary to something else, then? You working up to some kind of an offer?"
Bodie straightened. "Not if you're not interested. Not denying who'd be my first choice. But there's plenty of others who might be my second."
What? Who? asked Doyle's mind, instantly, with a panic he didn't care to analyse.
Bodie took a step to the side and began to rummage through the storeroom shelves. How can he just change the subject? As if hearing Doyle's thoughts, Bodie turned back. "Calm down, Ray. You're not interested. Fine. I understand. But if ever you change your mind, remember. Offer's still open."
21st October 1979
School half-term about to start, funfairs on the common, and crowds of determined entertainment-seekers to scan. As they stalked through the fair, eyes peeled for Doyle's least favourite grass, Doyle was conscious of the two inches that separated them, the two inches that Bodie now bridged only from necessity. Damn him! Doyle had never been more constantly aware of him. Before, he had relaxed into their shared world, their shared existence, the two of them working as one, their borders held in common, erected to keep others at bay. And now... now? Now he had no idea what to think. Bodie had kept his word. On the job, he was as physical as ever, brushing past Doyle without a qualm, guiding Doyle's foot firmly into place on precarious ladders. Off the job, though, he was careful: glasses and mugs passed without a touch, injuries bandaged deftly, and Doyle waiting... waiting for their two worlds to rejoin. Oh Bodie, what did I do?
Bodie nudged him, and a thrill shot through him.
"Over there. Dodgems."
Doyle shook his head. This is his fault, not mine. Isn't it? He cut sideways and sloped round to the back, to cut off Evans's escape. Focus. Focus on the job.
21st November 1979
Bodie still wasn't touching him without need. Nine weeks, and Doyle's heart was slowly being choked. If anything, the intensity between them had increased. Perhaps... Perhaps the constant connections had been a safe release. Perhaps I misunderstood anyway. Perhaps he didn't really want that. Now the touches were so few that every time Bodie slid past him in a narrow doorway, or helped him shift a heavy box, Doyle could practically feel the air between them buzzing. Ionised.
"Penny for 'em."
He jumped, and turned, snarling.
Bodie reached towards him in conciliation. Will he? Doyle strained to avoid tensing up. It made no difference. His partner made as if to pat him on both shoulders, but as always, now, pulling the movement at the last minute.
Ah, Bodie, don't...
"Don't what?"
He hadn't realised he had spoken aloud until he heard Bodie's question. How do I answer this?
"You never..." he gestured. "Not any more."
That eyebrow was raised again. "What?"
Doyle shrugged uncomfortably. "What we talked about." Please, Bodie, don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about...
"Talked about? Would serve you right if I pretended I didn't know what you're talking about."
Christ. Even now, even without touching my skin, you're still inside me, still feeling me in my head...
"You can't have it both ways, Ray." Bodie's voice was weary. "You can't complain I touch you with," he paused, "dubious intentions... and then complain I don't touch you at all."
Don't make me feel like this.
"You said you fancy me."
"Mm. Actually, no."
What?
His shock must have showed. Bodie grinned suddenly. "Oh, no, you're not off the hook. I do. But it was you who said it. I just told you you had nothing to worry about."
I do worry. You said you fancied other people, too. What are you doing, Bodie? What are you doing with them? I nearly followed you the other night. I wanted to know what you meant. What you're doing with other people. Where you go. You shouldn't be doing it, not with...
"...with other people."
Bodie's eyes narrowed. "You're not making a lot of sense here. Other people what? You appointing yourself my keeper? Not on, mate." He raised a cautionary hand. "Told you. Offer's still open. But I'm not some love-struck Mills and Boon reader, Ray. Not waiting for the right man. If he," He? He, or me? "isn't interested, I'll take what I can get."
21st December 1979
Dark days in November, bright lights in December. Doyle pasted a festive face on and endured, hating the light as much as the dark. Nearly three months now. Back in September. Just before the clocks go back, it had been. The days had been getting darker, the nights colder ever since. I didn't do this. This was the natural order of the seasons. Or maybe it was Bodie. Not me.
It was inevitable: light fades, vacuous party noises heighten. It'll be alright after Christmas. In the New Year. When the day lengthens. When the warmth comes back. Ah, Bodie...
He eyed the Radio Times Christmas double issue morosely and abruptly plonked the Heineken down on the table.
It didn't take him long to get to Bodie's flat. The lights were out. Bastard. Why couldn't he wait for me? What is he doing? He rang the doorbell anyway, leaning on it, not caring.
He knew what Bodie was doing, really. Bodie was drowning his sorrows, plunging his mouth to another man's. Bodie was prowling the streets of Soho, his soft predatory tread unnoticed until he wanted to be glimpsed. Bodie was–
"Well, are you coming in or not?"
Shock drained through him as Bodie opened the door. "Bodie?"
"In the flesh." Bodie was patient. "Who were you expecting? I mean, this is my flat, but..."
He kicked the draught excluder out of the way and opened the door wider. Warmth billowed out.
"Come in."
Inside the flat, Doyle slouched around, unable to sit at ease. Bodie watched. Eventually Doyle drew to a halt. Bodie waited.
"Telly's crap again," offered Doyle.
Bodie nodded acceptingly.
"I mean–" Doyle plunged on. "Christmas and all."
"Not Christmas yet," Bodie pointed out reasonably. He paused. "Although I suppose it counts as Yule. Shortest day today," he added as Doyle looked questioning. "Well, usually. Sometimes it's a day either side. It's a bastard in Scotland," an inconsequential addendum. "About three hours of daylight. If that."
"I suppose." Doyle was in no mood to be educated on SAS and Paras exercises, which was undoubtedly how Bodie knew. Unless – Oh god, had Bodie taken someone up there for some romantic retreat? Bodie – stop making this hard.
"Bodie..."
"That's my name. Don't wear it out." The playground jibe.
"For Christ's sake, Bodie!" Stop it, you're throwing barriers up everywhere!
"What? What, Ray?" Bodie's voice rose with irritation. He took a step forward. "You've been acting like a cat on hot bricks all month! Every time I look round, you're watching me. Every time I don't, I can feel you brooding. What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" He stepped closer, brought his hands up, achingly close to Doyle. Ah yes, god, do it, go on...
His hands a fraction of an inch from Doyle's shoulders, Bodie turned away, scowling. Fuck. "If you've just come round to be miserable at me, because you've broken another bloody date, you can fuck off for once. I've had it to here. You've buggered my life up, it's only fair if yours is buggered up too."
Oh shit.
"Ah, shit, Bodie. Didn't mean that to do that."
"No." Unforgiving.
"Think we need to talk."
"No."
A thrill of shock. "No?"
"What's to say?" Bodie threw himself into the tatty armchair, then almost immediately jerked up again. "You've turned up here, you want entertaining, you'll only moan if I go out... What gives you the right, Ray? I know what you want to talk" – his voice added audible quotation marks – "about. You want me to give you some sort of absolution for all this. You want me to give you some sort of explanation. You want me to justify why you get to flaunt yourself and I get to watch and grit my teeth and keep my word and still you – you – feel the need to bang on and on about it. You want to explain you're 'not like that' – which, you sod, is a lie, I'm pretty sure of that, even if you won't admit it to yourself..."
Bodie paused abruptly. "Well, go on. By this stage you've usually interrupted me about five times." He pursed his lips. "Here's your chance."
Doyle was silent.
It wasn't meant to be like this.
"I..." He paused.
Oh god. Think. Or do. Or something. You came all this way, you must have had a plan if you were expecting to find him in... Ah.
"You're still in."
"What?"
"It's a Friday night. You told me you were onto 'a sure thing' earlier, and you're still here."
Bodie heaved a sigh. "Yes, Ray. It's Christmas. Late licensing. We can have drinks even past eleven at night."
Doyle glowered. "Shut up. You wanted me to talk."
"I'm not sure I did," Bodie observed darkly. "I just expected you to."
Doyle ignored that. "You're still here, even if you have half your... " his eyes flicked up and down Bodie. Holy Christ. He is... scarily good-looking. "...half your clubbing gear on."
Bodie looked down at his short-sleeved t-shirt and tight trousers. "That's all of it. No point in putting too much on," sardonically, "It'll only be coming off again at some stage. And?"
An image of Bodie flexing his arms as he pulled the top off over his head assailed Doyle. Jesus. He pressed on.
"You're not going out. So I'm not interrupting. Good." Deliberately, he straightened.
"You made me an offer once. You said it was still open."
Bodie's eyes narrowed. "What?"
It took all Doyle's strength not to wilt.
"You said you were interested. In me."
"Yes. And you told me where to go in no uncertain terms."
Doyle pulled a face. "Okay, so I can be a bit slow. I... oh, for Christ's sake, Bodie!" Irritation was well to the fore now. "Do you have to make me say it? Cos I won't." I will, but... "Come here."
"If you're taking the piss..."
"I'm not! Fuck it, I–!"
A laugh interrupted him. "Have to say, Ray, your seduction technique is the worst I've ever seen. I assume that's what it's meant to be, anyway? I take it asking if the offer's still open is your idea of sweet-talking me?"
And then Bodie was up close to him, touching, and the teasing words didn't matter. He could feel Bodie's breath on his cheek, and Bodie's hand on the back of his neck and moving up to his head and pulling their heads together, and Bodie's groin – Christ – pressed up against his, and Bodie's voice murmuring something about talking and actions and is that what this is all about and it was suddenly all so easy and so obvious...
...and he found his hands were around Bodie's waist and reaching round to his arse, and pulling them tighter – tighter – together, and they fitted together so well...
...and then he realised that the shortest day meant it was the longest night, and that that was a good thing, because there were so many, many things to say and do, all through that night, and in fact it was all going to take a lot longer than one night...
...but that night was where it began.
Title: Longest night
Author: ML Mead
Slash or Gen: Slash.
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: Go ahead.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: two years ago, this was a drabble. If anyone can spot where, I shall post the Very Bad Art and you will all know why I don't do art!
21st September 1979
"Jesus Christ, Bodie!" The words erupted out of him.
"What?" Bodie raised an eyebrow – the left, Doyle thought wildly, why did I never realise it made him look so like the devil? Get thee behind—no, wait, not behind, not at all...
He tried to collect himself. "You actually mean it, don't you?"
Bodie wasn't going to help him, he could see that.
"Mean what?"
Doyle shifted his stance. "All that..." He moved his arse out of the reach of Bodie's hands. "That."
Why couldn't Bodie look embarrassed or something? It wasn't like Doyle should feel awkward, surely? He intensified his glare. Bodie held his gaze without concern.
"If you didn't like it, Ray, you've taken a bloody long time to realise it. And even longer to tell me." Exaggeratedly, he moved his hand further away. "But there you go. Better?"
Despite himself, Doyle took a step forward. Can't back down now. "You fancy me. All that..." he gestured again, "You're copping a feel every time I turn around!"
"Not every time, no. Credit me with some restraint." Bodie's leisurely tone was at odds with the tension around his eyes.
Doyle didn't let it go. "This all a preliminary to something else, then? You working up to some kind of an offer?"
Bodie straightened. "Not if you're not interested. Not denying who'd be my first choice. But there's plenty of others who might be my second."
What? Who? asked Doyle's mind, instantly, with a panic he didn't care to analyse.
Bodie took a step to the side and began to rummage through the storeroom shelves. How can he just change the subject? As if hearing Doyle's thoughts, Bodie turned back. "Calm down, Ray. You're not interested. Fine. I understand. But if ever you change your mind, remember. Offer's still open."
21st October 1979
School half-term about to start, funfairs on the common, and crowds of determined entertainment-seekers to scan. As they stalked through the fair, eyes peeled for Doyle's least favourite grass, Doyle was conscious of the two inches that separated them, the two inches that Bodie now bridged only from necessity. Damn him! Doyle had never been more constantly aware of him. Before, he had relaxed into their shared world, their shared existence, the two of them working as one, their borders held in common, erected to keep others at bay. And now... now? Now he had no idea what to think. Bodie had kept his word. On the job, he was as physical as ever, brushing past Doyle without a qualm, guiding Doyle's foot firmly into place on precarious ladders. Off the job, though, he was careful: glasses and mugs passed without a touch, injuries bandaged deftly, and Doyle waiting... waiting for their two worlds to rejoin. Oh Bodie, what did I do?
Bodie nudged him, and a thrill shot through him.
"Over there. Dodgems."
Doyle shook his head. This is his fault, not mine. Isn't it? He cut sideways and sloped round to the back, to cut off Evans's escape. Focus. Focus on the job.
21st November 1979
Bodie still wasn't touching him without need. Nine weeks, and Doyle's heart was slowly being choked. If anything, the intensity between them had increased. Perhaps... Perhaps the constant connections had been a safe release. Perhaps I misunderstood anyway. Perhaps he didn't really want that. Now the touches were so few that every time Bodie slid past him in a narrow doorway, or helped him shift a heavy box, Doyle could practically feel the air between them buzzing. Ionised.
"Penny for 'em."
He jumped, and turned, snarling.
Bodie reached towards him in conciliation. Will he? Doyle strained to avoid tensing up. It made no difference. His partner made as if to pat him on both shoulders, but as always, now, pulling the movement at the last minute.
Ah, Bodie, don't...
"Don't what?"
He hadn't realised he had spoken aloud until he heard Bodie's question. How do I answer this?
"You never..." he gestured. "Not any more."
That eyebrow was raised again. "What?"
Doyle shrugged uncomfortably. "What we talked about." Please, Bodie, don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about...
"Talked about? Would serve you right if I pretended I didn't know what you're talking about."
Christ. Even now, even without touching my skin, you're still inside me, still feeling me in my head...
"You can't have it both ways, Ray." Bodie's voice was weary. "You can't complain I touch you with," he paused, "dubious intentions... and then complain I don't touch you at all."
Don't make me feel like this.
"You said you fancy me."
"Mm. Actually, no."
What?
His shock must have showed. Bodie grinned suddenly. "Oh, no, you're not off the hook. I do. But it was you who said it. I just told you you had nothing to worry about."
I do worry. You said you fancied other people, too. What are you doing, Bodie? What are you doing with them? I nearly followed you the other night. I wanted to know what you meant. What you're doing with other people. Where you go. You shouldn't be doing it, not with...
"...with other people."
Bodie's eyes narrowed. "You're not making a lot of sense here. Other people what? You appointing yourself my keeper? Not on, mate." He raised a cautionary hand. "Told you. Offer's still open. But I'm not some love-struck Mills and Boon reader, Ray. Not waiting for the right man. If he," He? He, or me? "isn't interested, I'll take what I can get."
21st December 1979
Dark days in November, bright lights in December. Doyle pasted a festive face on and endured, hating the light as much as the dark. Nearly three months now. Back in September. Just before the clocks go back, it had been. The days had been getting darker, the nights colder ever since. I didn't do this. This was the natural order of the seasons. Or maybe it was Bodie. Not me.
It was inevitable: light fades, vacuous party noises heighten. It'll be alright after Christmas. In the New Year. When the day lengthens. When the warmth comes back. Ah, Bodie...
He eyed the Radio Times Christmas double issue morosely and abruptly plonked the Heineken down on the table.
It didn't take him long to get to Bodie's flat. The lights were out. Bastard. Why couldn't he wait for me? What is he doing? He rang the doorbell anyway, leaning on it, not caring.
He knew what Bodie was doing, really. Bodie was drowning his sorrows, plunging his mouth to another man's. Bodie was prowling the streets of Soho, his soft predatory tread unnoticed until he wanted to be glimpsed. Bodie was–
"Well, are you coming in or not?"
Shock drained through him as Bodie opened the door. "Bodie?"
"In the flesh." Bodie was patient. "Who were you expecting? I mean, this is my flat, but..."
He kicked the draught excluder out of the way and opened the door wider. Warmth billowed out.
"Come in."
Inside the flat, Doyle slouched around, unable to sit at ease. Bodie watched. Eventually Doyle drew to a halt. Bodie waited.
"Telly's crap again," offered Doyle.
Bodie nodded acceptingly.
"I mean–" Doyle plunged on. "Christmas and all."
"Not Christmas yet," Bodie pointed out reasonably. He paused. "Although I suppose it counts as Yule. Shortest day today," he added as Doyle looked questioning. "Well, usually. Sometimes it's a day either side. It's a bastard in Scotland," an inconsequential addendum. "About three hours of daylight. If that."
"I suppose." Doyle was in no mood to be educated on SAS and Paras exercises, which was undoubtedly how Bodie knew. Unless – Oh god, had Bodie taken someone up there for some romantic retreat? Bodie – stop making this hard.
"Bodie..."
"That's my name. Don't wear it out." The playground jibe.
"For Christ's sake, Bodie!" Stop it, you're throwing barriers up everywhere!
"What? What, Ray?" Bodie's voice rose with irritation. He took a step forward. "You've been acting like a cat on hot bricks all month! Every time I look round, you're watching me. Every time I don't, I can feel you brooding. What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" He stepped closer, brought his hands up, achingly close to Doyle. Ah yes, god, do it, go on...
His hands a fraction of an inch from Doyle's shoulders, Bodie turned away, scowling. Fuck. "If you've just come round to be miserable at me, because you've broken another bloody date, you can fuck off for once. I've had it to here. You've buggered my life up, it's only fair if yours is buggered up too."
Oh shit.
"Ah, shit, Bodie. Didn't mean that to do that."
"No." Unforgiving.
"Think we need to talk."
"No."
A thrill of shock. "No?"
"What's to say?" Bodie threw himself into the tatty armchair, then almost immediately jerked up again. "You've turned up here, you want entertaining, you'll only moan if I go out... What gives you the right, Ray? I know what you want to talk" – his voice added audible quotation marks – "about. You want me to give you some sort of absolution for all this. You want me to give you some sort of explanation. You want me to justify why you get to flaunt yourself and I get to watch and grit my teeth and keep my word and still you – you – feel the need to bang on and on about it. You want to explain you're 'not like that' – which, you sod, is a lie, I'm pretty sure of that, even if you won't admit it to yourself..."
Bodie paused abruptly. "Well, go on. By this stage you've usually interrupted me about five times." He pursed his lips. "Here's your chance."
Doyle was silent.
It wasn't meant to be like this.
"I..." He paused.
Oh god. Think. Or do. Or something. You came all this way, you must have had a plan if you were expecting to find him in... Ah.
"You're still in."
"What?"
"It's a Friday night. You told me you were onto 'a sure thing' earlier, and you're still here."
Bodie heaved a sigh. "Yes, Ray. It's Christmas. Late licensing. We can have drinks even past eleven at night."
Doyle glowered. "Shut up. You wanted me to talk."
"I'm not sure I did," Bodie observed darkly. "I just expected you to."
Doyle ignored that. "You're still here, even if you have half your... " his eyes flicked up and down Bodie. Holy Christ. He is... scarily good-looking. "...half your clubbing gear on."
Bodie looked down at his short-sleeved t-shirt and tight trousers. "That's all of it. No point in putting too much on," sardonically, "It'll only be coming off again at some stage. And?"
An image of Bodie flexing his arms as he pulled the top off over his head assailed Doyle. Jesus. He pressed on.
"You're not going out. So I'm not interrupting. Good." Deliberately, he straightened.
"You made me an offer once. You said it was still open."
Bodie's eyes narrowed. "What?"
It took all Doyle's strength not to wilt.
"You said you were interested. In me."
"Yes. And you told me where to go in no uncertain terms."
Doyle pulled a face. "Okay, so I can be a bit slow. I... oh, for Christ's sake, Bodie!" Irritation was well to the fore now. "Do you have to make me say it? Cos I won't." I will, but... "Come here."
"If you're taking the piss..."
"I'm not! Fuck it, I–!"
A laugh interrupted him. "Have to say, Ray, your seduction technique is the worst I've ever seen. I assume that's what it's meant to be, anyway? I take it asking if the offer's still open is your idea of sweet-talking me?"
And then Bodie was up close to him, touching, and the teasing words didn't matter. He could feel Bodie's breath on his cheek, and Bodie's hand on the back of his neck and moving up to his head and pulling their heads together, and Bodie's groin – Christ – pressed up against his, and Bodie's voice murmuring something about talking and actions and is that what this is all about and it was suddenly all so easy and so obvious...
...and he found his hands were around Bodie's waist and reaching round to his arse, and pulling them tighter – tighter – together, and they fitted together so well...
...and then he realised that the shortest day meant it was the longest night, and that that was a good thing, because there were so many, many things to say and do, all through that night, and in fact it was all going to take a lot longer than one night...
...but that night was where it began.
Title: Longest night
Author: ML Mead
Slash or Gen: Slash.
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: Go ahead.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: two years ago, this was a drabble. If anyone can spot where, I shall post the Very Bad Art and you will all know why I don't do art!
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no subject
Date: 2013-12-20 03:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-20 05:13 pm (UTC)Your drabble grew up to be a perfect Christmas fic, thank you! I'd love to see the artwork too *bats eyelashes hopefully*
The lads are perfect - Bodie being patient and Doyle bouncing around inside his own head, but getting there in the end. I hope they put the longest night to good use *g*
no subject
Date: 2013-12-20 07:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-20 09:06 pm (UTC)(Drabble: hidden in plain sight, I would have thought. Hmm. Maybe I should post a heap more while it is still my day!)
no subject
Date: 2013-12-20 09:10 pm (UTC)But I'm glad the lads worked for you - thanks!They have worked for me (umm) for some time, and then halfway through posting, I developed the most amazing qualms, and nearly posted the very non-Christmassy story instead.
I am sure they will find something to do with the night.
no subject
Date: 2013-12-20 09:12 pm (UTC)And, grin, I am delighted you enjoyed that moment.
no subject
Date: 2013-12-20 09:17 pm (UTC)Doyle had never been more constantly aware of him. Before, he had relaxed into their shared world, their shared existence, the two of them working as one, their borders held in common, erected to keep others at bay………waiting for their two worlds to rejoin.
Bodie still wasn't touching him without need. Nine weeks, and Doyle's heart was slowly being choked. If anything, the intensity between them had increased. Perhaps... Perhaps the constant connections had been a safe release.
And I loved the way you wove into the story the changing of the clocks and the parallels drawn between that change and Doyle’s increasing unhappiness and frustration, so clever. (Oh... *and* the seasonal changes.)
I thought this was wonderful and, I'll repeat, beautifully written and constructed. Thanks a lot!
no subject
Date: 2013-12-20 09:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-20 09:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-20 10:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-20 10:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-20 10:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-21 12:31 am (UTC)"Doyle waiting... waiting for their two worlds to rejoin. Oh Bodie, what did I do? "
too. Thank goodness they've got the whole of the longest night of the year to come together in, to re-establish their connection! And many more to follow *g*
Thank you so much for the solstice treat!
no subject
Date: 2013-12-21 01:56 am (UTC)Now just look over there for a second, while I run away with that line about Bodie pulling his top off. :D
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Date: 2013-12-21 03:25 am (UTC)The shortest day. The longest night. The brightest blaze. Now lets see that artwork! :-)
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Date: 2013-12-21 03:58 am (UTC)I'm also taking blocks of text and counting tghem in Open Office - and not finding the drabble! We'll never get o see the artwork. ;_;
no subject
Date: 2013-12-21 05:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-21 09:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-21 11:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-21 11:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-22 10:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-22 10:22 pm (UTC)Hee, yes, that is a happy image to steal off with!
no subject
Date: 2013-12-22 10:28 pm (UTC)artgraphics.I don't think Doyle likes being unsure about anything, but I admit I reserved my sympathy for Bodie for most of this one.
Here you go. *wince*.
no subject
Date: 2013-12-22 10:42 pm (UTC)You nearly had a right answer by the wrong route!
Anyway, merentha found the one I was thinking of, to my shock, so art (with big quotation marks around it) is in the next reply up!
no subject
Date: 2013-12-22 10:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-22 10:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-22 10:46 pm (UTC)artgraphics". And there's no need to wince! Thanks!no subject
Date: 2013-12-22 10:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-12-22 11:02 pm (UTC)Thanks! Yeah, it took not having it to make him realise what he wanted.
no subject
Date: 2013-12-29 08:34 pm (UTC)Mmm, great line, just on the edges of disturbing :) I love the shifting power dynamics going on, Ray's inner battling, and Bodie's very Bodie-like arrogance - which he can just about get away with because he rocks the tight trousers and t-shirt :D Very nicely constructed - I love the use of timeline and the whole premise of the longest night. The ending lines are utterly brilliant too.
no subject
Date: 2013-12-31 06:53 pm (UTC)My work here is done...
No, seriously, that's a wonderful compliment, thank you so much! Thanks re the construction as well: it seemed to unfold so nicely like that that I had to go with it. I was afraid that the longest night was a bit of a cliche, so I am glad to hear it worked!