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discoveredinaljWell since I requested it, I thought I'd better set a good example... *g* I thought I was going to be all alone in it too, and then ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dawnebeth posted - hurrah! Like hers, my drabble kind of got away from me too... *g*
The Holly and the Ivy
by Slantedlight
The carol singers were in fine voice, notes floating through the air and into Bodie's ground floor flat as though they were singing at King's, and there was only a brief pause at the end of Silent Night, a bare breath perhaps, before the next tune rose into the Christmas eve night.
"Ohhh… The holly and the ivy, when they are both full grown..."
"Here," Bodie said from the depths of a newspaper on the couch. He dug into his pocket, holding the paper high with his other hand, held out a pound note in Doyle’s general direction.
Doyle frowned. "What's that for?"
"For them to go away," he said uncompromisingly. "And tell 'em no one else is home. If I hear one more bloody carol singer tonight..."
"Lost your festive spirit, Scrooge?"
"Left it down Clapham Lane," Bodie said shortly, but he finally lowered the paper, and his eyes met Doyle's. Doyle nodded slowly, took the money, and strode long-legged towards the hallway. Bodie watched him, frowning. "And when's this grub going to be ready?" he called.
"Soon as I've dealt with this." Doyle paused at the door, tipped his head towards the carollers outside. "Be quicker if you get me another drink in the meantime. Gin and tonic, thanks."
Bodie pulled a face, but he levered himself up once Doyle was gone, and stretched carefully, wincing at that too. Bloody McClintock, bloody derelict buildings, bloody...
Just bloody.
He could still feel the girl's lifeless body under him, the strange sponginess of her before he realised what he'd fallen on, the thick wetness under his hand, the...
No.
He'd left the Gordon's out with the chopping board and sliced lemon on the dresser in the corner, and he poured Doyle a large one in a new glass, emptying the bottle in the process. Didn't matter, he had another in the cupboard underneath - he kept one in these days. He topped it up with a fizz of tonic, then shrugged and fetched his own glass from the coffee table. He kept Glenfiddich in too, and not just for Cowley. Probably shouldn't drink too much tonight, not if he had to get down to Claire's by lunchtime tomorrow, but what the hell.
It wasn't often they got Christmas off. They'd not been scheduled for it this year either, but McClintock had timed his nastiness to perfection, and here they were, sent away so that they could be called cleanly to testify later. Bloody... He took a mouthful of his scotch, a great gulping mouthful suddenly, felt it wet on his lips. He was licking it off when Doyle swung back into the room, and he realised that there was blessed silence once more.
"Cheers," he said, raising his glass to Doyle and sipping again, holding out Doyle's gin.
"Cheers." Doyle took the glass from him, their fingers brushing and pulling Bodie's gaze straight to them. "Sausage casserole a la Doyle in five minutes. Wanna lay the table?"
"Lay the...? I'll lay the coffee table, that's the best you're getting, sunshine.” He suited action to words, following Doyle back into the tiny kitchen, manoeuvring around him to reach the cutlery drawer, and to pull a couple of table mats out, Doyle’s hands warm on his waist for a moment, warning him to stay still as he moved between the stove and counter with plates, so that they didn’t trip each other up.
When he got back to the sitting room he flicked the telly on, volume down. There was the end of a Peter Ustinov film, but Fools and Horses would be on in a few minutes, and maybe that was what he needed, a laugh at someone else’s tiny, painless problems.
“Mind out, it’s ‘ot!”
Doyle was behind him again - he was everywhere tonight, never sitting still, and it might be Bodie’s fault for inviting him over, but for fuck’s sake. This time he held a steaming glass casserole dish between two oven gloves, and he set it down on one of the mats, before bouncing back towards the kitchen again.
"Oh… The holly bears a blossom as white as lily flow’r…"
“Doyle!”
Footsteps behind him, plates clunked onto the table.
“What?”
“I thought you took care of that!”
"…the rising of the su-un…"
The couch dipped beside him. “Maybe fifty pee wasn’t enough.” And when Bodie looked at him, brows drawn down, he widened his eyes and pouted his lips. It distracted Bodie for a moment, the way it always distracted Bodie, and then he caught up with what he’d heard.
“Fifty… I gave you a pound!”
“You mean that was all for them?”
“Doyle!”
“Yeah-yeah, alright…” Doyle pushed himself lightly off the couch again, tucking a hand into the back pocket of his jeans as he went, sliding it back and forth, feeling presumably for the rest of Bodie’s money.
Bodie looked back down at the coffee table, laden now, at last, at long long last, with their dinner. He spooned himself a pile of mashed potatoes, a token gesture of green peas to keep Doyle happy, and began to fish in the mess of carrots and parsnips and gravy for sausages.
Outside all was quiet, and in the distance the front door slammed.
Bodie paused with a forkful of dinner halfway to his mouth, raised an enquiring eyebrow. “Give ‘em the rest of my hard-earned cash, did you?”
He put the spoon down again, pursed his lips and reached for his whisky again instead. Too bloody hard-earned sometimes.
“Here, is that Peter Ustinov?”
“Where?” He looked up, looked around. What the hell was Doyle on about now?
Mid-scoop of potato from the pan, Doyle burst into laughter, throwing his head back suddenly, wooden spoon waving dangerously between them. “On the box, you wally…”
Oh yeah, the film. He glanced at the tv, then back at Doyle. Doyle’s face was still creased into a wide grin, his shoulders shaking occasionally, but he seemed to have control over the spoon again. Bodie let himself watch for a moment, because Doyle’s laugh arrowed its way straight to his groin as it always did, and Doyle was sitting close enough to him on the couch that their knees were touching, just now and then when one of them moved, and…
“We’ve missed it,” he said. “Fools and Horses next.”
“D’you remember the one where Del-Boy falls through the bar…?” Doyle began. “He’s gone to a wine bar with Rodney, and…”
“Trigger,” Bodie said through a mouthful of sausage, and watched Doyle put down his fork again. He needed to eat more, never ate when an op had gone sour on them, it was half the reason Bodie’d invited him round. Make himself sick if he wasn’t careful, living on vitamin pills. He swallowed. “It was Del-Boy and Trigger - can’t remember where Rodney was.”
“…an’ Del-Boy decides to pick up a couple of Euro-birds…”
“…who go for the more mature man…” Bodie chorused in with him, meeting his eyes and grinning then, because he had to.
“Play it nice and cool, my son, play it nice and cool…” Doyle carried on, and this time he just waved his fork through the air. “An’ then…” The fork clattered to his plate again, and Doyle was grinning so widely he could barely say the words. “…an’ he leans against the counter only someone’s opened it…!”
Bodie laughed too then, partly because it had been a good episode, but partly because Doyle laughing like that was as infectious as it always was.
“The holly bears a prickle as sharp as any thorn…”
Everything froze.
“…o-on Christmas day in the morn!”
“Right, that’s it!” He shot to his feet, aches and pains be damned.
“No!” Doyle’s hand circled his wrist before he could take a step towards the door. “Let me talk to them! They must’ve misunderstood!”
“Did you give them that bloody pound to go away or not?” A thought struck him. “Or did you tuck it away somewhere…” He reached for Doyle’s back pocket suddenly, not quite managing to slide a hand between the denim, not minding really, because it gave him a chance to try again. Caught between Bodie’s hands, Doyle tried to twist around out of his range, but Bodie was ready for him, pulling him forwards, and finally getting his fingers into that tight pocket, and grabbing with that hand too. They came together, chest to chest…
Groin to groin.
The breath went out of Bodie, and Doyle’s eyes were wide again when he caught his gaze.
..the pla-aying of the merry organ…
Bodie couldn’t help it, when he finally managed to inhale again, it turned into a bark of a laugh, and then he couldn’t help it, he was giggling, and holding onto Doyle because if he let go he’d fall to his knees with the ridiculousness of it.
”A-and Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ…”
Enough! He pushed a strangely still Doyle back at last, took a step away from the couch. “I’ll sweet morn them…” he began, but Doyle was there in front of him again.
“I’ll go - I’ll go!” he said. “You eat your dinner, growing lad like you…” He backed away, and then out down the corridor again.
Bodie looked after him. The pound note hadn’t been in his pocket… so what had the little toerag done with it? He heeled his shoes off, crossed quickly to the door which wasn’t quite shut, and pulled it open, just in time to hear Doyle’s last words. “…worth every penny mate. You have a good night!”
As Doyle stood there, framed in the doorway, leaning against the jamb, Bodie slipped quietly down the corridor to stand behind him. In the midst of shuffling his flock away to some other poor bugger’s house, the carol singer Doyle’d been talking to caught sight of him.
“Um…”
Doyle stilled for a moment, all over, Bodie thought, from his legs to that spot where his hair brushed the top of his shirt collar. Bodie clapped a friendly hand on his shoulder, beamed at the carol singers.
“Been enjoying your performance,” he said cheerfully. “Paid you to come back, did he?”
“Er…” The carol singer looked uncertain for a minute. Bodie beamed at him. “Pound to stop after the first verse, a fiver to come back a couple of times to sing the next… ones.” He faded off slightly, alerted maybe by the slight whimper Doyle gave as Bodie tightened his thumb against a pressure point. “Enjoy it did you?” he added hopefully.
“Oh yeah - something special that was.”
Another whimper, and a twitch this time.
“Well… er… Happy Christmas!”
“An’ a happy new year!” Bodie said brightly, and he hooked a couple of fingers into Doyle’s back jeans pocket as the carollers finally turned away, and he could push the door closed.
“Now Bodie…”
He kept his finger over the pressure point, held tight to Doyle’s jeans pocket, and took them back into the sitting room, stopped them behind the couch and pressed up close behind him. Doyle took a deep breath, let it go in a long shudder. Interesting…
“Yes, Ray?” He leaned in close, lowered his voice to a purr, imagining the ticklish play of warm air on Doyle’s ear. He could almost taste Doyle from here. “Got something to tell me, have you?”
“It was for your own good…!”
Come to that, his own breath wasn’t exactly even, and he could feel his heart going like the clappers.
“Needed something to distract you from that cock up today, and my sausages weren’t doing the job…”
Bodie couldn’t help it - he laughed against Doyle’s neck.
“You rotten…” Doyle twisted around at last, Bodie’s holds nothing more than touches now, but he didn’t move away, and Bodie didn’t let him. Instead he looked up at him under his lashes, smile wide on his face, and then Doyle was smiling back at him, and it was the most natural thing in the world to lean in and kiss him, and for Doyle to kiss him back. Bodie tucked one hand into that jeans pocket again, wrapped the other one around Doyle’s shoulder, hand threading through his hair, holding him there, holding him in place. Doyle just pressed more tightly against him.
Outside voices rose into the night air. The…. holly and the ivy, now both are full well grown…, and inside all was well in Bodie’s world.
o0o
And for those who've got no idea what Only Fools and Horses is... *g*
Title: The Holly and the Ivy
Author: Slantedlight
Slash or Gen: Eternally slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: Certainly!
Disclaimer: Bodie, Doyle and the Ci5-verse are not mine, but thank you to those who made them for us to play with!
dawnebeth posted - hurrah! Like hers, my drabble kind of got away from me too... *g*
The Holly and the Ivyby Slantedlight
The carol singers were in fine voice, notes floating through the air and into Bodie's ground floor flat as though they were singing at King's, and there was only a brief pause at the end of Silent Night, a bare breath perhaps, before the next tune rose into the Christmas eve night.
"Ohhh… The holly and the ivy, when they are both full grown..."
"Here," Bodie said from the depths of a newspaper on the couch. He dug into his pocket, holding the paper high with his other hand, held out a pound note in Doyle’s general direction.
Doyle frowned. "What's that for?"
"For them to go away," he said uncompromisingly. "And tell 'em no one else is home. If I hear one more bloody carol singer tonight..."
"Lost your festive spirit, Scrooge?"
"Left it down Clapham Lane," Bodie said shortly, but he finally lowered the paper, and his eyes met Doyle's. Doyle nodded slowly, took the money, and strode long-legged towards the hallway. Bodie watched him, frowning. "And when's this grub going to be ready?" he called.
"Soon as I've dealt with this." Doyle paused at the door, tipped his head towards the carollers outside. "Be quicker if you get me another drink in the meantime. Gin and tonic, thanks."
Bodie pulled a face, but he levered himself up once Doyle was gone, and stretched carefully, wincing at that too. Bloody McClintock, bloody derelict buildings, bloody...
Just bloody.
He could still feel the girl's lifeless body under him, the strange sponginess of her before he realised what he'd fallen on, the thick wetness under his hand, the...
No.
He'd left the Gordon's out with the chopping board and sliced lemon on the dresser in the corner, and he poured Doyle a large one in a new glass, emptying the bottle in the process. Didn't matter, he had another in the cupboard underneath - he kept one in these days. He topped it up with a fizz of tonic, then shrugged and fetched his own glass from the coffee table. He kept Glenfiddich in too, and not just for Cowley. Probably shouldn't drink too much tonight, not if he had to get down to Claire's by lunchtime tomorrow, but what the hell.
It wasn't often they got Christmas off. They'd not been scheduled for it this year either, but McClintock had timed his nastiness to perfection, and here they were, sent away so that they could be called cleanly to testify later. Bloody... He took a mouthful of his scotch, a great gulping mouthful suddenly, felt it wet on his lips. He was licking it off when Doyle swung back into the room, and he realised that there was blessed silence once more.
"Cheers," he said, raising his glass to Doyle and sipping again, holding out Doyle's gin.
"Cheers." Doyle took the glass from him, their fingers brushing and pulling Bodie's gaze straight to them. "Sausage casserole a la Doyle in five minutes. Wanna lay the table?"
"Lay the...? I'll lay the coffee table, that's the best you're getting, sunshine.” He suited action to words, following Doyle back into the tiny kitchen, manoeuvring around him to reach the cutlery drawer, and to pull a couple of table mats out, Doyle’s hands warm on his waist for a moment, warning him to stay still as he moved between the stove and counter with plates, so that they didn’t trip each other up.
When he got back to the sitting room he flicked the telly on, volume down. There was the end of a Peter Ustinov film, but Fools and Horses would be on in a few minutes, and maybe that was what he needed, a laugh at someone else’s tiny, painless problems.
“Mind out, it’s ‘ot!”
Doyle was behind him again - he was everywhere tonight, never sitting still, and it might be Bodie’s fault for inviting him over, but for fuck’s sake. This time he held a steaming glass casserole dish between two oven gloves, and he set it down on one of the mats, before bouncing back towards the kitchen again.
"Oh… The holly bears a blossom as white as lily flow’r…"
“Doyle!”
Footsteps behind him, plates clunked onto the table.
“What?”
“I thought you took care of that!”
"…the rising of the su-un…"
The couch dipped beside him. “Maybe fifty pee wasn’t enough.” And when Bodie looked at him, brows drawn down, he widened his eyes and pouted his lips. It distracted Bodie for a moment, the way it always distracted Bodie, and then he caught up with what he’d heard.
“Fifty… I gave you a pound!”
“You mean that was all for them?”
“Doyle!”
“Yeah-yeah, alright…” Doyle pushed himself lightly off the couch again, tucking a hand into the back pocket of his jeans as he went, sliding it back and forth, feeling presumably for the rest of Bodie’s money.
Bodie looked back down at the coffee table, laden now, at last, at long long last, with their dinner. He spooned himself a pile of mashed potatoes, a token gesture of green peas to keep Doyle happy, and began to fish in the mess of carrots and parsnips and gravy for sausages.
Outside all was quiet, and in the distance the front door slammed.
Bodie paused with a forkful of dinner halfway to his mouth, raised an enquiring eyebrow. “Give ‘em the rest of my hard-earned cash, did you?”
He put the spoon down again, pursed his lips and reached for his whisky again instead. Too bloody hard-earned sometimes.
“Here, is that Peter Ustinov?”
“Where?” He looked up, looked around. What the hell was Doyle on about now?
Mid-scoop of potato from the pan, Doyle burst into laughter, throwing his head back suddenly, wooden spoon waving dangerously between them. “On the box, you wally…”
Oh yeah, the film. He glanced at the tv, then back at Doyle. Doyle’s face was still creased into a wide grin, his shoulders shaking occasionally, but he seemed to have control over the spoon again. Bodie let himself watch for a moment, because Doyle’s laugh arrowed its way straight to his groin as it always did, and Doyle was sitting close enough to him on the couch that their knees were touching, just now and then when one of them moved, and…
“We’ve missed it,” he said. “Fools and Horses next.”
“D’you remember the one where Del-Boy falls through the bar…?” Doyle began. “He’s gone to a wine bar with Rodney, and…”
“Trigger,” Bodie said through a mouthful of sausage, and watched Doyle put down his fork again. He needed to eat more, never ate when an op had gone sour on them, it was half the reason Bodie’d invited him round. Make himself sick if he wasn’t careful, living on vitamin pills. He swallowed. “It was Del-Boy and Trigger - can’t remember where Rodney was.”
“…an’ Del-Boy decides to pick up a couple of Euro-birds…”
“…who go for the more mature man…” Bodie chorused in with him, meeting his eyes and grinning then, because he had to.
“Play it nice and cool, my son, play it nice and cool…” Doyle carried on, and this time he just waved his fork through the air. “An’ then…” The fork clattered to his plate again, and Doyle was grinning so widely he could barely say the words. “…an’ he leans against the counter only someone’s opened it…!”
Bodie laughed too then, partly because it had been a good episode, but partly because Doyle laughing like that was as infectious as it always was.
“The holly bears a prickle as sharp as any thorn…”
Everything froze.
“…o-on Christmas day in the morn!”
“Right, that’s it!” He shot to his feet, aches and pains be damned.
“No!” Doyle’s hand circled his wrist before he could take a step towards the door. “Let me talk to them! They must’ve misunderstood!”
“Did you give them that bloody pound to go away or not?” A thought struck him. “Or did you tuck it away somewhere…” He reached for Doyle’s back pocket suddenly, not quite managing to slide a hand between the denim, not minding really, because it gave him a chance to try again. Caught between Bodie’s hands, Doyle tried to twist around out of his range, but Bodie was ready for him, pulling him forwards, and finally getting his fingers into that tight pocket, and grabbing with that hand too. They came together, chest to chest…
Groin to groin.
The breath went out of Bodie, and Doyle’s eyes were wide again when he caught his gaze.
..the pla-aying of the merry organ…
Bodie couldn’t help it, when he finally managed to inhale again, it turned into a bark of a laugh, and then he couldn’t help it, he was giggling, and holding onto Doyle because if he let go he’d fall to his knees with the ridiculousness of it.
”A-and Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ…”
Enough! He pushed a strangely still Doyle back at last, took a step away from the couch. “I’ll sweet morn them…” he began, but Doyle was there in front of him again.
“I’ll go - I’ll go!” he said. “You eat your dinner, growing lad like you…” He backed away, and then out down the corridor again.
Bodie looked after him. The pound note hadn’t been in his pocket… so what had the little toerag done with it? He heeled his shoes off, crossed quickly to the door which wasn’t quite shut, and pulled it open, just in time to hear Doyle’s last words. “…worth every penny mate. You have a good night!”
As Doyle stood there, framed in the doorway, leaning against the jamb, Bodie slipped quietly down the corridor to stand behind him. In the midst of shuffling his flock away to some other poor bugger’s house, the carol singer Doyle’d been talking to caught sight of him.
“Um…”
Doyle stilled for a moment, all over, Bodie thought, from his legs to that spot where his hair brushed the top of his shirt collar. Bodie clapped a friendly hand on his shoulder, beamed at the carol singers.
“Been enjoying your performance,” he said cheerfully. “Paid you to come back, did he?”
“Er…” The carol singer looked uncertain for a minute. Bodie beamed at him. “Pound to stop after the first verse, a fiver to come back a couple of times to sing the next… ones.” He faded off slightly, alerted maybe by the slight whimper Doyle gave as Bodie tightened his thumb against a pressure point. “Enjoy it did you?” he added hopefully.
“Oh yeah - something special that was.”
Another whimper, and a twitch this time.
“Well… er… Happy Christmas!”
“An’ a happy new year!” Bodie said brightly, and he hooked a couple of fingers into Doyle’s back jeans pocket as the carollers finally turned away, and he could push the door closed.
“Now Bodie…”
He kept his finger over the pressure point, held tight to Doyle’s jeans pocket, and took them back into the sitting room, stopped them behind the couch and pressed up close behind him. Doyle took a deep breath, let it go in a long shudder. Interesting…
“Yes, Ray?” He leaned in close, lowered his voice to a purr, imagining the ticklish play of warm air on Doyle’s ear. He could almost taste Doyle from here. “Got something to tell me, have you?”
“It was for your own good…!”
Come to that, his own breath wasn’t exactly even, and he could feel his heart going like the clappers.
“Needed something to distract you from that cock up today, and my sausages weren’t doing the job…”
Bodie couldn’t help it - he laughed against Doyle’s neck.
“You rotten…” Doyle twisted around at last, Bodie’s holds nothing more than touches now, but he didn’t move away, and Bodie didn’t let him. Instead he looked up at him under his lashes, smile wide on his face, and then Doyle was smiling back at him, and it was the most natural thing in the world to lean in and kiss him, and for Doyle to kiss him back. Bodie tucked one hand into that jeans pocket again, wrapped the other one around Doyle’s shoulder, hand threading through his hair, holding him there, holding him in place. Doyle just pressed more tightly against him.
Outside voices rose into the night air. The…. holly and the ivy, now both are full well grown…, and inside all was well in Bodie’s world.
And for those who've got no idea what Only Fools and Horses is... *g*
Title: The Holly and the Ivy
Author: Slantedlight
Slash or Gen: Eternally slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: Certainly!
Disclaimer: Bodie, Doyle and the Ci5-verse are not mine, but thank you to those who made them for us to play with!
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Date: 2015-12-02 02:27 am (UTC)Enjoyed the glimpse of Fools and Horses, too! ta.
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Date: 2015-12-02 09:09 am (UTC)I can never quite believe that Trigger was Ramos, because he's so Trigger in my head (I watched Only Fools and Horses for years before recognising him in Pros)!
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Date: 2015-12-02 09:29 am (UTC)It's perfect, so much fun!!!
And the vid is really funny, too!
But the story - wonderful!!! Thank you so much!
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Date: 2015-12-03 05:57 pm (UTC)Loved the reminder of Only Fools, ta ever so, and such a lovely gentle story too - thank you.
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Date: 2015-12-13 10:42 pm (UTC)