Prosfic - Fireflies by Slantedlight
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firefly1311 and dragonfly1311, but for everyone else too... *g*
Fireflies
by Slantedlight
Forfirefly1311, for being a lovely host!
Bodie watched the stars dance like fireflies in the sky, heard Doyle giggle softly beside him on the grass, tried to feel guilty about confiscating Tom Delaney’s stash of home-made brownies, and couldn’t. The fireflies were doing the most beautiful dance above them, and Doyle’s shoulder was warm against his. He couldn’t even be sorry that he hadn’t told Doyle what they were. Well, he had really. As good as. They were from the health food shop, because that’s where he’d caught Tom with them. Well, same street. Not that far away, in the scheme of things. Not like London and Brighton, where they were now, lazing in the garden of his mate Bill’s place, cos he was away in Africa… no, Austria… no… well, somewhere with an A in it. Aldershot, maybe, nursing another bullet wound.
Doyle giggled softly against him again, and Bodie felt the fireflies shooting through him too, and straight to his groin. It’d been a long time since they’d been on their own together, away from the job, it felt good. Yeah, they were good mates, him and Doyle, and it was good when they were together and in the same place. Like now, under the fireflies, watching the stars. No - the fireflies were the stars. The stars were the fireflies…
“You know the Big Dipper?” Doyle asked suddenly, close to his ear.
“They’re stars,” Bodie said, knowledgeably.
“Yeah - that’s right.” Doyle sounded encouraging, so Bodie squinted past the fireflies to try and find it. “There,” he said at last, pointing with a slightly wavering hand. There it was, spark-bright against the black. “Doesn’t look like a bear.”
“Looks like a dipper,” Doyle said. “Should call it a dipper.”
“You did.”
“Did what?”
“You asked me where the Big Dipper was,” Bodie said patiently. “You called it a dipper.” Doyle was a good mate, and he was funny when he was high, all fuzzy and confused.
“Go up from the Big Dipper,” Doyle said. “Up three stars, and then…”
“Straight on to morning!” Bodie grinned. Doyle’s shoulder was warm against his, and now Bodie had lowered his arm again, that was pressed close to Doyle too. He’d go straight on to morning like this any day.
“No!” Doyle interrupted Bodie’s increasingly pleasant thoughts. “Just up three stars. Not to th’ North Star, the other way.”
“Alright.” Bodie counted three.
“Now go left two. Watch those two.”
Bodie did. “Warm tonight,” he said, feeling it radiating from Doyle and all the way through him, the two of them together on the grass.
“Yeah. Now go down one the other way. Then across three. Remember them.”
“Five?”
“No, three.”
“Five altogether.”
“Oh yeah. Five altogether. Then - and this is the important bit - you ‘ave to go back to the top two an’ look above them, but don’t look.”
Bodie thought about that for a moment, then he followed the stars back up, and focused his eyes slightly to one side.
“Oh yeah,” he said, feeling a smile stretch his lips. “There’s one of them… things. Lots of star things.”
“Not that,” Doyle said. “Now look at them altogether.”
“All the stars?”
“No you berk - just the ones I said.”
“One - two - three - four - five - blob.”
“Yeah.”
Bodie stared up at the sky for a minute, trying to work out what he was supposed to be seeing. Was it a constellation? One he didn’t know?”
“One - two - three - four - five - blob,” he said again, and then he turned his head to look at Doyle instead, just barely lit to life by starlight, dark curls falling back to the grass, his face paler, nose planing down to cheeks, mouth, chin… Bodie paused, looked back at the smudge that was Doyle’s mouth. A good mouth, Doyle had. Good lips. Just right for kissing, and other things, maybe. And kissing.
“Can you see it?” Doyle asked, and he turned his head to look at Bodie, so that Bodie could see his eyes and his nose and his mouth, and… “You’re not looking!”
“I’m looking,” Bodie said, voice husky suddenly, and he lifted himself onto one elbow, leaned down, and kissed Doyle’s lips.
He’d closed his eyes, but he could see stars and fireflies, and Doyle-Doyle-Doyle.
Doyle’s arms came around him, pulled him even closer, and Doyle kissed him back, so that Bodie pressed closer to him, and Doyle moaned, deep in his throat. Christ, it was good… Bodie began to slide one hand down from where he’d rested it on Doyle’s cheek, down his neck, his chest, and there, Doyle was as hard as he was, iron-hard, wanting him, wanting Bodie on the grass, under the stars…
And then Doyle was pushing him away, tearing their mouths apart, gasping for air and chest heaving. “We can’t - Bodie stop. Not ‘ere…”
“It’s alright, there’s no one watching.” There were trees around the garden, they had their own patch of sky, and no one to see them if they lay naked underneath them, firefly-sparks skimming their bodies together. If he kissed Doyle again… He tried to lean back in, but Doyle had got an arm between them now.
“He’s watching!”
“What?” Bodie pulled back, confused.
“That’s what I was trying to tell you. One - two - three…”
“You’re not making any sense, Ray.”
“Lie down.”
That was better. Bodie felt himself smile again, reached out to draw Doyle after him.
Doyle batted him away. “One - two - three…”
Oh. “Four - five - blob. I know!” He looked up at the stars again, waved a hand in their general direction. “What’m I… Oh. It’s a face.”
“Yeah - but whose face is it, Bodie? Blob!”
A vaguely sandy blob over two eyes and a… “Cowley!”
“Face of God,” Doyle said solemnly. “George Cowley ‘imself. An’ there you were kissing me.”
“You kissed me back!” Bodie said, momentarily outraged. “An’ you did that thing with your hand, and you made the fireflies!”
“Fireflies?” Doyle leaned up now, blotting out the stars and Cowley and everything else, when it was just the two of them, so close together.
Bodie’s world came back into focus, and everything stilled. “You know what,” he said, “If we went inside, and went to bed, and pulled the blankets right up…”
“Then we’d be just us,” Doyle finished. “No stars, no fireflies, no Cowley. Not even,” he grinned, a flash of white teeth in the star-dark, “Any brownies.”
Bodie nodded slowly, certainly. “Not even any brownies,” he agreed, and he let Doyle pull him to his feet, and lead him by the hand into the house.
Behind them, the stars shone on, an eternity of fireflies dancing across the sky.
November 2016
firefly1311 and dragonfly1311, but for everyone else too... *g*Fireflies
by Slantedlight
For
firefly1311, for being a lovely host!Bodie watched the stars dance like fireflies in the sky, heard Doyle giggle softly beside him on the grass, tried to feel guilty about confiscating Tom Delaney’s stash of home-made brownies, and couldn’t. The fireflies were doing the most beautiful dance above them, and Doyle’s shoulder was warm against his. He couldn’t even be sorry that he hadn’t told Doyle what they were. Well, he had really. As good as. They were from the health food shop, because that’s where he’d caught Tom with them. Well, same street. Not that far away, in the scheme of things. Not like London and Brighton, where they were now, lazing in the garden of his mate Bill’s place, cos he was away in Africa… no, Austria… no… well, somewhere with an A in it. Aldershot, maybe, nursing another bullet wound.
Doyle giggled softly against him again, and Bodie felt the fireflies shooting through him too, and straight to his groin. It’d been a long time since they’d been on their own together, away from the job, it felt good. Yeah, they were good mates, him and Doyle, and it was good when they were together and in the same place. Like now, under the fireflies, watching the stars. No - the fireflies were the stars. The stars were the fireflies…
“You know the Big Dipper?” Doyle asked suddenly, close to his ear.
“They’re stars,” Bodie said, knowledgeably.
“Yeah - that’s right.” Doyle sounded encouraging, so Bodie squinted past the fireflies to try and find it. “There,” he said at last, pointing with a slightly wavering hand. There it was, spark-bright against the black. “Doesn’t look like a bear.”
“Looks like a dipper,” Doyle said. “Should call it a dipper.”
“You did.”
“Did what?”
“You asked me where the Big Dipper was,” Bodie said patiently. “You called it a dipper.” Doyle was a good mate, and he was funny when he was high, all fuzzy and confused.
“Go up from the Big Dipper,” Doyle said. “Up three stars, and then…”
“Straight on to morning!” Bodie grinned. Doyle’s shoulder was warm against his, and now Bodie had lowered his arm again, that was pressed close to Doyle too. He’d go straight on to morning like this any day.
“No!” Doyle interrupted Bodie’s increasingly pleasant thoughts. “Just up three stars. Not to th’ North Star, the other way.”
“Alright.” Bodie counted three.
“Now go left two. Watch those two.”
Bodie did. “Warm tonight,” he said, feeling it radiating from Doyle and all the way through him, the two of them together on the grass.
“Yeah. Now go down one the other way. Then across three. Remember them.”
“Five?”
“No, three.”
“Five altogether.”
“Oh yeah. Five altogether. Then - and this is the important bit - you ‘ave to go back to the top two an’ look above them, but don’t look.”
Bodie thought about that for a moment, then he followed the stars back up, and focused his eyes slightly to one side.
“Oh yeah,” he said, feeling a smile stretch his lips. “There’s one of them… things. Lots of star things.”
“Not that,” Doyle said. “Now look at them altogether.”
“All the stars?”
“No you berk - just the ones I said.”
“One - two - three - four - five - blob.”
“Yeah.”
Bodie stared up at the sky for a minute, trying to work out what he was supposed to be seeing. Was it a constellation? One he didn’t know?”
“One - two - three - four - five - blob,” he said again, and then he turned his head to look at Doyle instead, just barely lit to life by starlight, dark curls falling back to the grass, his face paler, nose planing down to cheeks, mouth, chin… Bodie paused, looked back at the smudge that was Doyle’s mouth. A good mouth, Doyle had. Good lips. Just right for kissing, and other things, maybe. And kissing.
“Can you see it?” Doyle asked, and he turned his head to look at Bodie, so that Bodie could see his eyes and his nose and his mouth, and… “You’re not looking!”
“I’m looking,” Bodie said, voice husky suddenly, and he lifted himself onto one elbow, leaned down, and kissed Doyle’s lips.
He’d closed his eyes, but he could see stars and fireflies, and Doyle-Doyle-Doyle.
Doyle’s arms came around him, pulled him even closer, and Doyle kissed him back, so that Bodie pressed closer to him, and Doyle moaned, deep in his throat. Christ, it was good… Bodie began to slide one hand down from where he’d rested it on Doyle’s cheek, down his neck, his chest, and there, Doyle was as hard as he was, iron-hard, wanting him, wanting Bodie on the grass, under the stars…
And then Doyle was pushing him away, tearing their mouths apart, gasping for air and chest heaving. “We can’t - Bodie stop. Not ‘ere…”
“It’s alright, there’s no one watching.” There were trees around the garden, they had their own patch of sky, and no one to see them if they lay naked underneath them, firefly-sparks skimming their bodies together. If he kissed Doyle again… He tried to lean back in, but Doyle had got an arm between them now.
“He’s watching!”
“What?” Bodie pulled back, confused.
“That’s what I was trying to tell you. One - two - three…”
“You’re not making any sense, Ray.”
“Lie down.”
That was better. Bodie felt himself smile again, reached out to draw Doyle after him.
Doyle batted him away. “One - two - three…”
Oh. “Four - five - blob. I know!” He looked up at the stars again, waved a hand in their general direction. “What’m I… Oh. It’s a face.”
“Yeah - but whose face is it, Bodie? Blob!”
A vaguely sandy blob over two eyes and a… “Cowley!”
“Face of God,” Doyle said solemnly. “George Cowley ‘imself. An’ there you were kissing me.”
“You kissed me back!” Bodie said, momentarily outraged. “An’ you did that thing with your hand, and you made the fireflies!”
“Fireflies?” Doyle leaned up now, blotting out the stars and Cowley and everything else, when it was just the two of them, so close together.
Bodie’s world came back into focus, and everything stilled. “You know what,” he said, “If we went inside, and went to bed, and pulled the blankets right up…”
“Then we’d be just us,” Doyle finished. “No stars, no fireflies, no Cowley. Not even,” he grinned, a flash of white teeth in the star-dark, “Any brownies.”
Bodie nodded slowly, certainly. “Not even any brownies,” he agreed, and he let Doyle pull him to his feet, and lead him by the hand into the house.
Behind them, the stars shone on, an eternity of fireflies dancing across the sky.
November 2016
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Date: 2016-12-04 09:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-12-04 11:24 pm (UTC)