discoveredinalj | Discovered in the Bleak Midwinter

Hello! Welcome to the first post for this year's Pros December/winter/solstice/Christmas/let-there-be-light challenge festival! And, of course, since it is me posting, it will be a story. *g* I have even, sort of, okay-rather-by-accident followed the prompt for my day: In the bleak midwinter. I am really happy that I was able to complete the story on time, especially given how little writing I've done this year. However, I didn't quite complete the story in time for it to be properly edited and Brit-checked. (Gah!) So, please temporarily excuse the odd typo, Americanism, completely idiotic sentence. I will have it checked properly within a day or two, and will edit the post. In the meantime, I hope you will enjoy the (draft) version of: ETA: EOS has kindly Brit-checked and edited the draft, so you are all now good to go! Yay. Um. Except for the bits I changed in the draft as I posted this, that EOS didn't actually have in her version. Um. Hmmm....

As Cold as Winter
By PFL

Bodie woke to a sense of danger. He didn't move or open his eyes as his brain filtered information through his senses: quiet; flat noises; soft bed; warm-- A sudden movement beside him and memory kicked in: he was with Doyle. In bed. After sex. With Doyle. Christ. Bodie opened his eyes. Doyle lay on his back, head turned away from Bodie. He watched Doyle's chest rise and fall in the rhythm of deep sleep. It had been...bloody wonderful. Oh yeah. But Bodie's smile slowly faded as the sense of danger persisted. He turned his head away. All right, so they'd done it finally. It had been coming for a long time. They had been daring each other from the start of their partnership; when had the dare turned to flirting, to sex? Last night...an op had gone belly up, both of them had been frustrated and restless. They'd had a drink. And then there'd been that look of challenge in Doyle's eyes.

Bodie realised he was smirking. Well, and why not? It wasn't often he surprised Doyle these days. In fact, he could surprise him right now. Bodie's cock twitched. Yeah, he thought, relaxing into the bed, settling his hand on his cock, this was a good thing. He saw Doyle more often than any of his birds. Doyle understood their life--the inability to plan, the necessity for spontaneity, the need for release after some of their ops. Bodie stroked his cock. Doyle wouldn't shy away from the occasional adrenaline-fuelled violence. He'd revel in it, if Bodie knew his Doyle.

Knew Doyle. Bodie froze as the sense of danger clicked with knowledge. Doyle understood their way of life but he fought against it, didn't he? Doyle couldn't seem to manage casual relationships. He was always getting in too deep, falling in love, only to have it blow up in his face, as it inevitably did. You'd think he'd learn, but he never did: Deborah, Claire, Judy, Ann-bloody-Holly. Hell, even Kathy Mason had been a case of diving in too deep when you thought about it. Ray always jumped in heart first, way over his head. But...this between them was different, right? Two blokes? Doyle would know; he wouldn't be looking for a permanent relationship with his...partner, with whom he already spent ninety percent of his time. Bodie groaned.

"Playing on your own? I've got a better idea." Doyle's fingers brushed along Bodie's skin, pushed Bodie's hand away, and wrapped around Bodie's cock.

Bodie groaned again. No, no. This...was exactly what he shouldn't, couldn’t.... Well. He'd worry about it later. He arched into Doyle's grasp, heard Doyle laugh, and consequently had to kiss him, had to turn the laugh to a gasp. When next he was thinking clearly, his head was on Doyle's thigh, the taste of Doyle was in his mouth, and he wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep.

"Good morning." Doyle sounded a little breathless. Bodie's smug satisfaction withered, however, when he felt Doyle gently stroking his head. Affection. Of course there'd be affection.

"We can't do this," he blurted. Doyle's hand stilled.

"We seem to have been fairly successful." Doyle's tone was mild.

"Yeah, but.... We can't get too-- I mean--" What could he say? What would put him off? "Cowley." He grabbed onto the Controller as if to a lifeline.

"I don't really fancy a threesome."

Bodie rolled his eyes. "Doyle." He raised his head to look at him. "You know what I mean."

"You're worried about the job?"

"Aren't you?"

"You want to stop, then." Doyle withdrew his hand. His eyes were fixed on Bodie.

"I--" Yes, he did. No, he really didn't. Say yes. "No. But--"

"It's casual. Now and again. When it suits. Where's the harm?"

Bodie found Doyle's stare unnerving. It was as if he were a crime scene Doyle was looking at.

"Do you think Cowley would care, as long as we're useful?"

"Discreet." His own voice sounded odd. He coughed. "No hint."

"Right. Nothing to trigger...anything. Just fun. Right?"

He could have Doyle in his bed. His heart beat harder. "Right."

Doyle grinned as he tilted his head. "And bloody good sex while we're at it. If you practise. D'you want breakfast?"

Bodie's outrage veered to hunger.

"Eggs, beans, toast...." Doyle's tone turned suggestive.

"Sausages?"

"Already had that, didn't we?" Doyle escaped from the bed before Bodie's swat could land. Bodie relaxed for a moment. Doyle understood. How long had he been telling him? You had to stay cool, uninvolved: casual. Bodie had learned that long, long ago. He kept hold of his heart, never got in too deep. He'd learned to be cool, even cold--as cold as winter. Maybe Doyle had finally absorbed the lesson.

****

It was bitter, this feeling of defeat. Bitter like November, when everything died in anticipation of winter. He'd surrendered to Gallagher when he could have fought. It was better to die fighting than like this: captured, helpless. People said he was a survivor, but Bodie knew better. He committed to an action, right through to death; no surrender--until today. "Give up," Gallagher had said. "Fight," he'd told himself. Live to fight, Doyle's voice in his head had drowned out his own. Hopelessly surrounded, but with a gun still in his hand, he'd surrendered. Vengeance for Murphy would have to wait. At least he knew Doyle would get Gallagher. Eventually.

Gleason, one of Gallagher's men, brought his gun in line with Bodie's head. "Finish him now?"

"Not here," Gallagher said. "Kill him by the river. They can fish him out after we're long gone. Harris, you come along as well."

Gleason gestured at Bodie with his gun. "You heard the man: move."

Bodie looked for an opportunity, but Gleason kept his distance. The four of them walked slowly out of the warehouse into an alley that led to the river. It was late evening; no one in sight except a drunk lurching away at the end of the alley. He'd told Doyle he was following a lead, but he'd left his car more than a mile away. He hadn't anticipated he'd be in a fucking dead spot for the R/T. They neared the end of the alley, the river was just beyond. Ray! A life span of desire and regret surged within him.

A voice broke into song: "Show me the way to go home...." It was the drunk, off-key but enthusiastic. It was Doyle.

Bodie dropped to the ground and rolled just as gunfire erupted around them. Gleason fell. Bodie curled himself up, protected his head until the gunfire stopped and he heard Doyle's cry: "Bodie!" He lifted his head to find Doyle beside him. His gun was in one hand, the other grabbed hold of Bodie's arm. Bodie wanted to kiss him, wanted to take him right there in the dark, on hard and filthy concrete. But all he said was: "What took you so long? You...dumb crud."

Doyle grinned, punched him lightly, then turned his head and stood as the sound of gunfire reached them from inside the warehouse. "That'll be the lads. All right, Anson?"

"Yeah." Anson emerged from the alley. They must have caught Gallagher and his men in a cross-fire. "Cowley will be pleased."

Bodie pushed himself to his feet. Gallagher was dead, as were Gleason and Harris. Doyle walked to the warehouse as Jax emerged through the doorway. Bodie looked at Anson. "Any word on Murphy?"

"He's in surgery again. It'll be a long road back, even if he survives."

Whenever one of their own was hurt they always phrased it as if coming back was the only possible goal. What was life outside of CI5 for them? And yet. "At least he's alive." Bodie's eyes dwelled on Doyle as he talked with Jax.

It didn't take long to secure the scene, and the forensics team soon arrived. Doyle coordinated the handoff to Forensics. Bodie retrieved his car and drove to HQ. Cowley was out, so he wrote his report. He expected Doyle to arrive any minute, but he finished the report first. Bodie went to the rest room to see if Doyle was there.

"Just missed him," Lewis said to Bodie's inquiry. "I'm surprised you didn't see him in the hallway, actually."

"Do you know if Cowley's back?"

Lewis poured tea into his cup. "I heard he was on his way from the hospital."

"Ta." Bodie went to Cowley's office, where he found Ruth, but no Cowley.

"I just told your partner about Cowley--aren't you two supposed to be able to read each other's minds?"

"Not when it comes to Cowley, it's against the Official Secrets Act."

"I wouldn't be surprised. Anyway, I dropped Cowley down the street for a meeting. He said it wouldn't take long."

"Famous last words if it's the Minister." Bodie returned to his desk. There was still no sign of Doyle. Where the hell was the bugger? He read through his report, decided it would do, signed it, and returned to Cowley's office--where he finally found Doyle.

"Ah, Bodie," Cowley said. "I was just telling Doyle: Murphy came through the second surgery. The surgeon is optimistic, but the next twenty-four hours are critical."

"That's good news, sir." Bodie glanced at Doyle, who appeared pleased but didn't look at Bodie.

"At least Gallagher is no longer a problem. You two can go. Tomorrow I might have a lead for you to follow. I don't believe Gallagher was operating on his own."

"Anything you'd like us to look through tonight, sir?," asked Doyle. Bodie stared at him, but Doyle ignored him.

"No. I'll be looking through the paper trail myself tonight. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir." Bodie grabbed Doyle before he could say anything else and hustled him out of the office. "'Anything you'd like us to look through.' What the hell was that?"

"You think you're the only one worried about Murphy?" Doyle walked ahead of him down the corridor.

"Eh? Of course not, but--"

"I agree with Cowley. Gallagher wasn't the end of this."

"Right." He grabbed hold of Doyle's arm to stop him. "But there's nothing more we can do about it tonight. Look, we're both hungry and tired. Come back to my place. I'll feed you, we can watch the...." He trailed off as he felt the tension in Doyle's arm. There was a moment's silence. "Ray?"

Doyle closed his eyes, breathed in. "Have you got anything good in?" His voice was reassuringly suspicious.

"There's bound to be something." He wrapped his arm around Doyle and steered him towards the exit. Get him home, get him in bed. That would settle whatever strange mood he was in.

"There had better be." Doyle shrugged him off, but walked with him. "Listen, it's only dinner. I've got Janice lined up for later tonight."

Long practice helped Bodie smother an intense wave of disappointment. "Fair enough. Feeding you is the least I can do. You came in the nick of time, mate. How did you find me?"

"Simple. I bugged you."

"You what?" Bodie stopped.

Doyle walked out through the exit, then returned. "Oi. You promised me dinner."

"Well, breakfast might be the better word." Bodie followed him out of the building. "What d'you mean you bugged me?"

Doyle gave him a slight smile. "I put a tracer on you."

"What, on my car?" They reached Bodie's car and stood beside it. "But I parked miles away. How did you--?"

"Not your car, cloth-head, you.”

"Me?"

"In your pocket." Doyle gestured with his eyes.

Bodie put his hand into his coat pocket. "But...they searched me. How...?" He felt the answer. The tracer was in the lining of his coat pocket, easily missed in a quick search. "You little devil." He shared a grin with Doyle.

"I was out of range, of course, but I knew where you were heading. I cast about, finally found the signal, then Bob's your uncle."

Bodie shook his head. "Well, it worked. But why in hell did you do it in the first place? You didn't know I'd get that lead."

Doyle's smile lingered a moment, then faded. "No. But I know you."

Bodie raised his eyebrows.

"Murphy was attacked and left for dead. You were out for vengeance. You weren't going to stop, or wait, for anybody." Doyle's gaze was piercing, reminding Bodie of the night they'd first had sex. "Were you?" Doyle broke the look and walked around the car to the passenger side.

Bodie drove them to his place, with silence between them.

You were out for vengeance. Yeah, of course. He'd felt the familiar, driving need to do right by Murphy, just as he'd tried to do for Keith Williams, and Claire Sheldon, and Pamela, even though it had been long after Africa. He conceded he might get a bit single-minded when it came to the pursuit. All right, and Doyle had first-hand experience of that. Fine. And yet...Doyle didn't know everything about him. "I surrendered to Gallagher." He heard Doyle shift in his seat. "I could have fought. But, well....”

"No way out?"

"Only one way."

"Unless you surrendered."

"There was a time I wouldn't have considered that an option. Somehow, this time was different." He said the last more to himself than to Doyle. He remembered the rebellious denial he'd felt when he'd surrendered, and yet he had known he was right to do it. He had been at peace with the decision, if not the likely outcome. He would have fought at the river, of course, but he'd held on to a slim possibility of hope. And Doyle had come in time.

I know you. He knew Doyle. Of course Ray had been looking for him. Ray never gave up. For every Keith Williams and Claire Sheldon of Bodie's you could point to an Ann Seaford or Brian Cook of Doyle's. Or, for that matter, you could point to Bodie himself. He knew what Doyle had done after he'd been knifed during the Zadie case. And that had been only a couple of years into their partnership. What would Doyle do now--

"Oi!"

Bodie wrenched the wheel to the left, just narrowly avoiding the van that had appeared from out of nowhere. "Idiot. Sorry." He concentrated the few minutes it took to finish the drive and park .

“Did you get knocked on the head earlier?" Doyle got out of the car.

Bodie ignored that as he locked the car door. He did know Doyle. Since when did Doyle keep any long term relationship casual? He'd never even treated their partnership casually. Yet Doyle had breezily assured Bodie, by word and action, that their sexual relationship didn't mean anything, wasn't serious, wasn't likely to trigger anything-- Trigger. Oh, fuck, did that include Bodie's own fears? He looked at Doyle, eyes narrowed, reassessing everything they'd said that morning when he had awakened in Doyle's bed.

Doyle looked back at him, then gestured elaborately towards the front door of his block.

Right. Bodie dug out his keys, let them in, and walked with Doyle up to his flat. Had it all been a scam? The dates Doyle had had with Janice--had they actually happened? Was that why they hadn't doubled since they'd started sleeping together? No.... Doyle wouldn't give in like that. He'd have insisted on getting what he wanted from Bodie. He always had. But he was also very good at protecting himself. Maybe it had been like building a fire against winter's chill. Bodie had always made his own views on relationships very clear.

"Right, where's this feast you promised me?" Doyle headed for Bodie's kitchen.

Winter inevitably made way for spring; November turned inexorably into December's Christmas. You just had to trust and believe. The crucible of surrender might lead to a new way of thinking. I dare you. Bodie walked to Doyle and kissed him. He kissed him as if for the first time. Ray.

"B—Bodie." Doyle managed to break the kiss, but Bodie could see his struggle in the way he was breathing, and the desire darkening his eyes. "I told you--Janice--"

"No Janice." Bodie drifted his hand down Doyle's body, pressed against his cock. "No Sally, or Ann, or Gertrude, or Frank, for that matter. Just me. If you dare.”

Doyle stilled beneath his hands, then straightened a little, and his eyes met Bodie's. It was that look again, that challenging, direct, soul-piercing look that Bodie had misinterpreted from the first. It challenged him, assessed him, demanded truth--and revealed it. It had been missing all these months.

"Yeah. Just you for me, too. Not at all casual or cool."

Doyle kissed him. Their lips merged, bodies swayed into each other. They managed an erratic progress towards the bedroom, and finally lay together, entwined on the bed. Bodie couldn't get enough of this Doyle--more alive and vibrant than he had known before in bed. It was as if the Doyle he recognised from firefights--reckless, dangerous, yet controlled--was with him now. All of Doyle's intensity was focused on Bodie. He knew from the way his cock was leaking before they'd ever made it to the bed that he wouldn't last long. He came with Doyle's hands on him, and Doyle's tongue in his mouth. Doyle followed soon afterwards, arching into Bodie's body, teeth scraping Bodie's shoulder.

"I knew you'd fall." Bodie eventually found the energy to mumble the words against Doyle's skin.

"For you? God help me." Doyle's finger traced an errant strand of Bodie's hair. "You were ready to run that morning. I knew that."

"So you gave me time to fall."

Doyle gave a sharp laugh. "You'd already fallen, mate. That's what I reckoned. You just wouldn't admit it."

Bodie turned his head to peer up at Doyle.

"'Don't do as I say, do as I do'."

"That sounds frighteningly familiar."

"Your own words. Never so taken to heart as in the last few months. There you were, wanting sex with me as often as you could--"

"Oi, I--" Bodie broke off as he remembered that he had usually been the one who had initiated sex. "Typical. Make me do all the hard work."

"Yet all your words...."

"Were brilliant, if, okay, slightly off the mark."

"Words versus actions. Mind you, your actions were particularly...encouraging. I'll give you that."

"Yeah, well. At least I didn't make up dates."

"I did go out with Janice—twice. We danced. And I was her shoulder to cry on about this bloke she works with."

"Yeah?"

"With a bit of farewell sex.”

"Yeah, that's my randy Doyle." Bodie slid on top of Doyle.

Doyle raised his eyebrows. "I don't appear to be alone in that." He arched into Bodie's growing erection. "Jealous?"

"Me?" Bodie played it for outrage, yet he knew Doyle was uncomfortably close to the truth.

"I wasn't certain, you know." Doyle's voice was soft. Bodie looked down at him. "You've been telling me about staying cool, uninvolved, since the day we met. You're very convincing about it."

"I thought it was the truth."

"You lose it for some people, that's what I noticed. The only problem was it was usually after they were injured or died. Your vengeance betrayed how much you cared. I didn't know if we..." He stopped speaking, entwined his hand with Bodie's. "If we'd get there while I was still alive."

Bodie buried his forehead in Doyle's clavicle.

"Or while you were alive," he heard and felt Doyle say. "Tonight, I couldn't do it. I couldn't play the role with you."

Bodie raised his head. "Hang on, was that why...? You were avoiding me!"

"Strategic withdrawal."

"And here you'd already won the war."

"Well, admittedly, I rather enjoyed the battles." Doyle grinned.

"We can re-live them. Like the old soldiers at Cowley's club."

"No, thanks. I'd rather move on to peace negotiations." Doyle's thighs squeezed Bodie's cock.

"Right, then, let's commence with round one of negotiations." Bodie lowered his head to Doyle's once again.

****

The telephone's ring woke Bodie. He groaned, stretched out a hand, and fumbled for the receiver. Doyle was a solid, warm presence beside him. "Yeah?" Bodie woke up quickly as he heard the voice over the line. "Sir?"

Doyle lifted his head.

"Get down here," Cowley said. "I've got a lead that needs immediate investigation. Bring food."

"Food, sir?"

"Aye, for me. You know what I like."

"But....” He squinted at the clock. "It's--"

"Use your ingenuity, man. I've certainly invested enough in your training."

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir. On our way, sir." He hung up the phone. Doyle sat up in the bed. "Bugger. Come on, we've got to go." Nothing would be open that had food that would suit Cowley. His own larder was sadly lacking. Doyle's, though....

Doyle hadn't moved. His eyes were wide and fixed on Bodie.

Bodie climbed out of the bed. "Our fearless, damned inconvenient leader calls."

"Yeah, I know." Doyle continued to look at him.

"What?"

"You said 'our'."

"Eh?"

"'On our way'."

Bodie froze, discarded shirt in hand. "Ah. Well...erm...habit, right? He'll know I'll naturally go round to yours."

"He'll know."

Bodie looked down at his hands, then back at Doyle. "Does it matter?"

Slowly, a smile spread across Doyle's face, and it was like spring after winter, Christmas after November.

The End
December 2017
With special thanks to ci5mates for inspiration on the ending!

Title: As Cold as Winter
Author: PFL
Slash or Gen: Slash
Archive at Proslib: Please (when edited)
Disclaimer: Not really necessary