Prosfic - Points in Time by lbc
Aug. 13th, 2007 09:37 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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discoveredinaljPosted on behalf of lbc - the first of the Discovered In Graceland posts - hooray!
Points in Time
by lbc
Ray Doyle stood on his small patio, looking into nothing. His long, slender arms wrapped around his body which was almost swallowed up in the deepness of the night. Haunting lyrics pervaded his mind and the atmosphere around him.
Maybe I didn’t treat you
Quite as good as I should have
Maybe I didn’t love you
Quite as often as I could have.
Even though it was summer, it was now dark and Elvis Presley was dead. Doyle had never been a super fan of the sensual American singer, but he had been disturbed when he had heard of his death. The strange thing was that the lyrics that continued to run through Doyle’s mind, reminded him so much more of his Bodie than the handsome man who had fallen so far away and at such a young age.
Doyle smiled to himself. Since when had he started thinking of Bodie as his? There were always points in time that were imprinted on one’s memory, but this wasn’t one of them. It seemed as if he had always loved Bodie. There had been moments like the time when he had rushed into the flat to kill the Greek assassin, rather than risk missing and hitting Bodie - - a moment when time stood still and you could see the future or a point in time that passed so quickly that you could only look back on it from the safety of hindsight.
Doyle sighed; it was August, 1977 and one of the bright lights in the heavens had dimmed and extinguished itself. A shiver inundated Doyle’s slender body as he remembered those lyrics, fearing - - not for the first time- - that he had extinguished the relationship that he and his partner were attempting to establish.
Did bad luck travel in threes? Doyle shook his head, trying to rid his mind of the dread that he had irrevocably destroyed his partner’s burgeoning feelings for him.
Why was Bodie so angry with him for not following procedure? Doyle had known that firing from the door was the correct thing to do, but Bodie’s life didn’t just depend on procedure. His partner’s continued existence weighed heavily on the slender man who went by the call numbers, 4.5, and Raymond Doyle was not about to forget that.
Neither 4.5 nor 3.7 had been logical choices for partners. Some called them Chalk and Cheese, but then who would have said in 1935 that a young man born in poverty from Tupelo, Mississippi would one day become one of the most famous celebrities in the world with more than 50 best selling albums? Doyle smiled as those bits of trivia floated through his mind.
Doyle had always been interested in art, but the day that he had walked into the karate club that he had established in Black Town and heard the haunting lyrics to “Always On My Mind”, Doyle had become intrigued with the legend located so far away. In so many ways Bodie reminded him of Elvis Presley.
Bodie didn’t consume peanut butter, honey, and banana sandwiches, but he did have a large taste for food and for life. His dark appearance and sensual face, plus his charismatic personality that drew everyone to him certainly made him attractive, just as Presley had been.
How many times had Doyle teased his friend about popping his clogs with the food that he ate? Was that what had killed Presley or had the flame just burned out? Doyle hadn’t really concentrated on the news reports about the singer’s death. It had somehow seemed ghoulish to hunger after every word spoken, especially since he had just recently killed “Georgi” and “Costa” to preserve some Greek dignitary and even more importantly, Bodie’s life.
Doyle shivered again. Since their heated exchange with regard to Doyle’s shooting tactics, Bodie had been reticent to be around his partner. Their easy relationship had become mired in . . . something, but what? They were both okay, but were they?
Doyle returned to his flat, hoping that Bodie would find him, and they could talk out their differences. Their first few outings for CI5 had been tense, but they had learned to rely on each other - - use each other’s expertise and now somehow . . . somehow Doyle had ruined it. Perhaps he had let Bodie see too much in his concern that he might miss and hit Bodie? The only comfort that the slender man had that a break up wasn’t inevitable was Bodie’s question, “Since when did you miss?”
Bodie’s seeming recognition of Doyle’s expertise with a hand gun was like a breath of fresh air. Their competition with each other concerning rifles and hand guns had led to antagonism between the partners, now this confrontation had happened.
What did Bodie want from him? Doyle sighed resolutely, deciding to go back inside. Looking at the clock, Doyle noticed that it was past 11.00; Bodie wouldn’t bother now. He was probably with that dark-haired bird that he had charmed while launching himself from her sun roof straight into Georgi’s path. *Trust Bodie to wangle a date while on the job.*
Doyle started into the small kitchen to make a cuppa but stopped when he heard the familiar buzz of the security phone. Although he told himself that it couldn’t be Bodie, his heart beat increased so rapidly that Doyle was sure that it could be heard outside his chest.
“Yeah?”
“It’s me. Wanna talk.”
“Kind of late.”
“Open the door, Doyle”
The coldness on the other end of the line spoke volumes. The curly haired man jabbed the button then moved off to start the fixins’ for a cuppa. He might need the brew to restore his normal body heat after he met with Iceberg Bodie.
Walking back through the sitting room, Doyle opened the door, letting the dark figure enter. As usual Bodie had chosen to dress in black trousers, jacket and polo. He looked dangerous . . . and beautiful.
“It’s about time, Doyle.”
“What’s all this then? Thought you’d be out with Miss Sun Roof.”
Deep blue eyes sparkled like shards of ice before Bodie put a superficial smile on his coldly, sinister face. “That’s tomorrow night, Doyle.”
Hearing the electric pot calling out to him, Doyle made for the kitchen, throwing over his shoulder as he made for the safety of the tea fixins’, “Sorry, can’t keep up with your busy social schedule, can I?”
Bodie sat down but kept himself on the edge of the settee, seemingly ready to leap forward if necessary. As Doyle entered, carrying two mugs, the green eyes stared at the man who he had learned to love, seeing him as a barely-leashed panther already to spring at his prey.
Sitting the mug on the small table beside Bodie, Doyle walked across the room and sat in a large chair, crossing his left leg over his right and waited.
Silence.
For a moment or two Doyle studied his adversary then questioned in a quiet voice, “What did you want to talk about or is this a starin’ contest?”
Silence.
Doyle stared for another moment then raised his mug and slurped a large amount of the brew into his mouth. Finally, he lowered his leg, preparing to launch his own rant when Bodie said in a voice so quiet, he could barely be heard:
“Presley’s dead.”
For a moment Doyle’s mind couldn’t register what Bodie was talking about then his emerald green eyes registered his comprehension. “Yeah . . . yeah, I heard. Too bad.”
“Like some of his music.”
Doyle wasn’t too sure if Bodie was affirming his own view of Presley’s work or if he was asking Doyle his opinion, but he figured an answer was needed.
“Yeah, I like some of his songs too. Heard one of them several months ago and then on the radio soon after they announced his death; it’s been swimmin’ around in me head ever since.”
Bodie nodded, saying nothing. His mouth puckered as if he were struggling for words. Then he uttered the words that almost took Doyle’s breath away, “Maybe I didn’t treat you quite as good as I should have.”
For a moment Doyle struggled with his breathing, feeling as if he had swallowed his tongue then the context of their conversation came to mind and he smiled slyly, “Yeah, that’s right. It comes from a song. ‘Always On My Mind.’ Really a good song, like the lyrics.’
Once again Bodie merely nodded, teetering back and forth as if he were trying to decide what he would do next. The temperature in the flat had warmed up considerably. Doyle’s unbuttoned emerald-coloured shirt now felt good where as a few minutes before, his whole slender body had been chilled to the core.
The silence got heavier and heavier until . . .
“Like the next lines better though.”
Doyle’s eyebrows knitted together as he tried to remember Elvis’ lush, sensual voice uttering the next lines; then Doyle remembered:
Maybe I didn’t love you
Quite as often as I could have
The silence dragged on as Bodie looked surreptitiously at the green-eyed man and Doyle tried to find his heart which was trapped somewhere in his throat. Finally, he found enough breath to whisper,
“Bodie?”
Suddenly Hard Man Bodie roared awake, leaping up from the settee to cross the room in two strides, stopping in front of his surprised partner. Looking down into the wide-open green orbs, Bodie’s intense stare manifested itself into the coldest voice that Doyle had ever heard. “Don’t want you doin’ that any more.”
Doyle’s eyes stared so wide that they began to ache. Confusion overwhelmed him. *What was Bodie talkin’ about?*
Seeing the confusion, Bodie repeated his words but added, “Don’t want you doin’ that any more. You could’ve been killed. Won’t have that.”
Now Doyle understood - - the Greek assassin. “I . . . I couldn’t risk shootin’ you, could I?”
A great sadness entered Bodie’s eyes as he turned to leave, the whisper was so soft only Doyle’s alert ears could pick it up.
“Better me than you.”
Rage pulsed through the slim body. * How dare Bodie put Doyle before himself!* It was that supreme point in time when Raymond Doyle saw everything clearly. William Bodie was about to walk out of his life just as Doyle realized what his partner meant to him.
Rushing across the floor, Doyle arrived at the door first, blocking the taller man’s exit.
“You’re not leavin’ until I’ve had my say, Sunshine.”
Defiance flashed on the handsome face but it quickly disappeared as he saw Doyle’s intransigence. Backing out of Doyle’s personal space, Bodie turned and said, “Ta, say it then so I can get out of here.”
Doyle took a deep breath; his furry chest peaking through the unbuttoned area. He had to make this good or he would lose Bodie. Motioning Bodie back to the settee, Doyle walked carefully around the small table and took his place within a few inches of the stubborn man.
Both men sat silent for a few minutes until Bodie spoke up, “Well, what is it? A glacier just slid past while I was waitin’”
So used to Bodie using humour to distract Doyle from delving into his personal space, Doyle shook his head as his auburn curls swung in disbelief at Bodie’s sense of timing. Closing his eyes and wiping his face, Doyle took another deep breath, opened his eyes and looked directly at his partner.
“You know Elvis Presley had it right in that song. You are always on my mind, and I don’t tell you often enough how I feel about you.”
Bodie sat staring at Doyle like he had just run his Jaguar E off the road then replied, “He said love you as often as he should have. You . . . you don’t love me.”
Bodie got no further with his words because the most seductive, luscious lips in all of England were now hard pressed onto his own. Nothing was said by either man for several minutes until breathing became imperative. Drawing slightly apart the two men continued to breathe heavily, almost gulping for breath. Green eyes began to sparkle and made-to-be-kissed lips smiled into Bodie’s ever darkening blue pools.
Bodie looked into the abyss and was lost. Grabbing his partner in a tight embrace, they replayed the kissing again to the same results.
Finally, they broke apart, thoroughly exhausted from lack of air. Raymond Doyle proved to be made of sterner stuff, however, because in less than a minute, he was able to whisper, “Like that do you?”
The dark haired man nodded, leaning back on the settee, dragging Doyle’s unresisting body with him. They remained wrapped in each other’s arms for several minutes, utterly content. Doyle’s curiosity wasn’t utterly sated, however. Even as kissing and cuddling were continuing, he whispered in Bodie’s ear, “You still goin’ to see Miss Sun Roof tomorrow night?”
Bodie sat up immediately, releasing Doyle. A shiver swept through Doyle from fear that he had ruined the whole thing with his pushiness, but then Bodie smiled his one-of-a-kind smile and replied, “You goin’ to love me and keep me occupied?”
Doyle felt relief spread throughout him. “Every time I get the chance, love. I’m not goin’ to be like Mr. Presley. You are always on my mind and I’m going to treat you and love you to the very best of my ability, for as long as you want me.”
Bodie frowned and shook his head. “Never had anybody who ever wanted to be with me that long, Sunshine. Me mum sure didn’t and I never had a chance to ask me dad, whoever he was. You sure about this?”
Doyle leaned forward and took the marvellous body in his arms. “’M sure. I’ve wanted to tell you those things for awhile, but we haven’t always been so close. Guess we’ve got Mr. Presley to thank for wakin’ us up.”
Bodie nodded as he leaned forward to press his lips to the cupid’s bow lips, “Take care, Mr. Presley, hope you’re happy now. Rest In Peace.”
With the singing legend on their mind the two men headed towards the bedroom intent on making these moments a point in time to remember.
_____________________
The End
Title: Points In Time
Author: lbc
Slash/Gen: slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: No thanks
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, but I love to play with them.
Notes: Apologies - I’m not sure when Ray creates his karate club. I suspect it would be around the time of Klansmen, but that would make it after the Killer episode. Oh well, my timeline is always skewed so forgive me.
Points in Time
by lbc
Ray Doyle stood on his small patio, looking into nothing. His long, slender arms wrapped around his body which was almost swallowed up in the deepness of the night. Haunting lyrics pervaded his mind and the atmosphere around him.
Maybe I didn’t treat you
Quite as good as I should have
Maybe I didn’t love you
Quite as often as I could have.
Even though it was summer, it was now dark and Elvis Presley was dead. Doyle had never been a super fan of the sensual American singer, but he had been disturbed when he had heard of his death. The strange thing was that the lyrics that continued to run through Doyle’s mind, reminded him so much more of his Bodie than the handsome man who had fallen so far away and at such a young age.
Doyle smiled to himself. Since when had he started thinking of Bodie as his? There were always points in time that were imprinted on one’s memory, but this wasn’t one of them. It seemed as if he had always loved Bodie. There had been moments like the time when he had rushed into the flat to kill the Greek assassin, rather than risk missing and hitting Bodie - - a moment when time stood still and you could see the future or a point in time that passed so quickly that you could only look back on it from the safety of hindsight.
Doyle sighed; it was August, 1977 and one of the bright lights in the heavens had dimmed and extinguished itself. A shiver inundated Doyle’s slender body as he remembered those lyrics, fearing - - not for the first time- - that he had extinguished the relationship that he and his partner were attempting to establish.
Did bad luck travel in threes? Doyle shook his head, trying to rid his mind of the dread that he had irrevocably destroyed his partner’s burgeoning feelings for him.
Why was Bodie so angry with him for not following procedure? Doyle had known that firing from the door was the correct thing to do, but Bodie’s life didn’t just depend on procedure. His partner’s continued existence weighed heavily on the slender man who went by the call numbers, 4.5, and Raymond Doyle was not about to forget that.
Neither 4.5 nor 3.7 had been logical choices for partners. Some called them Chalk and Cheese, but then who would have said in 1935 that a young man born in poverty from Tupelo, Mississippi would one day become one of the most famous celebrities in the world with more than 50 best selling albums? Doyle smiled as those bits of trivia floated through his mind.
Doyle had always been interested in art, but the day that he had walked into the karate club that he had established in Black Town and heard the haunting lyrics to “Always On My Mind”, Doyle had become intrigued with the legend located so far away. In so many ways Bodie reminded him of Elvis Presley.
Bodie didn’t consume peanut butter, honey, and banana sandwiches, but he did have a large taste for food and for life. His dark appearance and sensual face, plus his charismatic personality that drew everyone to him certainly made him attractive, just as Presley had been.
How many times had Doyle teased his friend about popping his clogs with the food that he ate? Was that what had killed Presley or had the flame just burned out? Doyle hadn’t really concentrated on the news reports about the singer’s death. It had somehow seemed ghoulish to hunger after every word spoken, especially since he had just recently killed “Georgi” and “Costa” to preserve some Greek dignitary and even more importantly, Bodie’s life.
Doyle shivered again. Since their heated exchange with regard to Doyle’s shooting tactics, Bodie had been reticent to be around his partner. Their easy relationship had become mired in . . . something, but what? They were both okay, but were they?
Doyle returned to his flat, hoping that Bodie would find him, and they could talk out their differences. Their first few outings for CI5 had been tense, but they had learned to rely on each other - - use each other’s expertise and now somehow . . . somehow Doyle had ruined it. Perhaps he had let Bodie see too much in his concern that he might miss and hit Bodie? The only comfort that the slender man had that a break up wasn’t inevitable was Bodie’s question, “Since when did you miss?”
Bodie’s seeming recognition of Doyle’s expertise with a hand gun was like a breath of fresh air. Their competition with each other concerning rifles and hand guns had led to antagonism between the partners, now this confrontation had happened.
What did Bodie want from him? Doyle sighed resolutely, deciding to go back inside. Looking at the clock, Doyle noticed that it was past 11.00; Bodie wouldn’t bother now. He was probably with that dark-haired bird that he had charmed while launching himself from her sun roof straight into Georgi’s path. *Trust Bodie to wangle a date while on the job.*
Doyle started into the small kitchen to make a cuppa but stopped when he heard the familiar buzz of the security phone. Although he told himself that it couldn’t be Bodie, his heart beat increased so rapidly that Doyle was sure that it could be heard outside his chest.
“Yeah?”
“It’s me. Wanna talk.”
“Kind of late.”
“Open the door, Doyle”
The coldness on the other end of the line spoke volumes. The curly haired man jabbed the button then moved off to start the fixins’ for a cuppa. He might need the brew to restore his normal body heat after he met with Iceberg Bodie.
Walking back through the sitting room, Doyle opened the door, letting the dark figure enter. As usual Bodie had chosen to dress in black trousers, jacket and polo. He looked dangerous . . . and beautiful.
“It’s about time, Doyle.”
“What’s all this then? Thought you’d be out with Miss Sun Roof.”
Deep blue eyes sparkled like shards of ice before Bodie put a superficial smile on his coldly, sinister face. “That’s tomorrow night, Doyle.”
Hearing the electric pot calling out to him, Doyle made for the kitchen, throwing over his shoulder as he made for the safety of the tea fixins’, “Sorry, can’t keep up with your busy social schedule, can I?”
Bodie sat down but kept himself on the edge of the settee, seemingly ready to leap forward if necessary. As Doyle entered, carrying two mugs, the green eyes stared at the man who he had learned to love, seeing him as a barely-leashed panther already to spring at his prey.
Sitting the mug on the small table beside Bodie, Doyle walked across the room and sat in a large chair, crossing his left leg over his right and waited.
Silence.
For a moment or two Doyle studied his adversary then questioned in a quiet voice, “What did you want to talk about or is this a starin’ contest?”
Silence.
Doyle stared for another moment then raised his mug and slurped a large amount of the brew into his mouth. Finally, he lowered his leg, preparing to launch his own rant when Bodie said in a voice so quiet, he could barely be heard:
“Presley’s dead.”
For a moment Doyle’s mind couldn’t register what Bodie was talking about then his emerald green eyes registered his comprehension. “Yeah . . . yeah, I heard. Too bad.”
“Like some of his music.”
Doyle wasn’t too sure if Bodie was affirming his own view of Presley’s work or if he was asking Doyle his opinion, but he figured an answer was needed.
“Yeah, I like some of his songs too. Heard one of them several months ago and then on the radio soon after they announced his death; it’s been swimmin’ around in me head ever since.”
Bodie nodded, saying nothing. His mouth puckered as if he were struggling for words. Then he uttered the words that almost took Doyle’s breath away, “Maybe I didn’t treat you quite as good as I should have.”
For a moment Doyle struggled with his breathing, feeling as if he had swallowed his tongue then the context of their conversation came to mind and he smiled slyly, “Yeah, that’s right. It comes from a song. ‘Always On My Mind.’ Really a good song, like the lyrics.’
Once again Bodie merely nodded, teetering back and forth as if he were trying to decide what he would do next. The temperature in the flat had warmed up considerably. Doyle’s unbuttoned emerald-coloured shirt now felt good where as a few minutes before, his whole slender body had been chilled to the core.
The silence got heavier and heavier until . . .
“Like the next lines better though.”
Doyle’s eyebrows knitted together as he tried to remember Elvis’ lush, sensual voice uttering the next lines; then Doyle remembered:
Maybe I didn’t love you
Quite as often as I could have
The silence dragged on as Bodie looked surreptitiously at the green-eyed man and Doyle tried to find his heart which was trapped somewhere in his throat. Finally, he found enough breath to whisper,
“Bodie?”
Suddenly Hard Man Bodie roared awake, leaping up from the settee to cross the room in two strides, stopping in front of his surprised partner. Looking down into the wide-open green orbs, Bodie’s intense stare manifested itself into the coldest voice that Doyle had ever heard. “Don’t want you doin’ that any more.”
Doyle’s eyes stared so wide that they began to ache. Confusion overwhelmed him. *What was Bodie talkin’ about?*
Seeing the confusion, Bodie repeated his words but added, “Don’t want you doin’ that any more. You could’ve been killed. Won’t have that.”
Now Doyle understood - - the Greek assassin. “I . . . I couldn’t risk shootin’ you, could I?”
A great sadness entered Bodie’s eyes as he turned to leave, the whisper was so soft only Doyle’s alert ears could pick it up.
“Better me than you.”
Rage pulsed through the slim body. * How dare Bodie put Doyle before himself!* It was that supreme point in time when Raymond Doyle saw everything clearly. William Bodie was about to walk out of his life just as Doyle realized what his partner meant to him.
Rushing across the floor, Doyle arrived at the door first, blocking the taller man’s exit.
“You’re not leavin’ until I’ve had my say, Sunshine.”
Defiance flashed on the handsome face but it quickly disappeared as he saw Doyle’s intransigence. Backing out of Doyle’s personal space, Bodie turned and said, “Ta, say it then so I can get out of here.”
Doyle took a deep breath; his furry chest peaking through the unbuttoned area. He had to make this good or he would lose Bodie. Motioning Bodie back to the settee, Doyle walked carefully around the small table and took his place within a few inches of the stubborn man.
Both men sat silent for a few minutes until Bodie spoke up, “Well, what is it? A glacier just slid past while I was waitin’”
So used to Bodie using humour to distract Doyle from delving into his personal space, Doyle shook his head as his auburn curls swung in disbelief at Bodie’s sense of timing. Closing his eyes and wiping his face, Doyle took another deep breath, opened his eyes and looked directly at his partner.
“You know Elvis Presley had it right in that song. You are always on my mind, and I don’t tell you often enough how I feel about you.”
Bodie sat staring at Doyle like he had just run his Jaguar E off the road then replied, “He said love you as often as he should have. You . . . you don’t love me.”
Bodie got no further with his words because the most seductive, luscious lips in all of England were now hard pressed onto his own. Nothing was said by either man for several minutes until breathing became imperative. Drawing slightly apart the two men continued to breathe heavily, almost gulping for breath. Green eyes began to sparkle and made-to-be-kissed lips smiled into Bodie’s ever darkening blue pools.
Bodie looked into the abyss and was lost. Grabbing his partner in a tight embrace, they replayed the kissing again to the same results.
Finally, they broke apart, thoroughly exhausted from lack of air. Raymond Doyle proved to be made of sterner stuff, however, because in less than a minute, he was able to whisper, “Like that do you?”
The dark haired man nodded, leaning back on the settee, dragging Doyle’s unresisting body with him. They remained wrapped in each other’s arms for several minutes, utterly content. Doyle’s curiosity wasn’t utterly sated, however. Even as kissing and cuddling were continuing, he whispered in Bodie’s ear, “You still goin’ to see Miss Sun Roof tomorrow night?”
Bodie sat up immediately, releasing Doyle. A shiver swept through Doyle from fear that he had ruined the whole thing with his pushiness, but then Bodie smiled his one-of-a-kind smile and replied, “You goin’ to love me and keep me occupied?”
Doyle felt relief spread throughout him. “Every time I get the chance, love. I’m not goin’ to be like Mr. Presley. You are always on my mind and I’m going to treat you and love you to the very best of my ability, for as long as you want me.”
Bodie frowned and shook his head. “Never had anybody who ever wanted to be with me that long, Sunshine. Me mum sure didn’t and I never had a chance to ask me dad, whoever he was. You sure about this?”
Doyle leaned forward and took the marvellous body in his arms. “’M sure. I’ve wanted to tell you those things for awhile, but we haven’t always been so close. Guess we’ve got Mr. Presley to thank for wakin’ us up.”
Bodie nodded as he leaned forward to press his lips to the cupid’s bow lips, “Take care, Mr. Presley, hope you’re happy now. Rest In Peace.”
With the singing legend on their mind the two men headed towards the bedroom intent on making these moments a point in time to remember.
The End
Title: Points In Time
Author: lbc
Slash/Gen: slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: No thanks
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, but I love to play with them.
Notes: Apologies - I’m not sure when Ray creates his karate club. I suspect it would be around the time of Klansmen, but that would make it after the Killer episode. Oh well, my timeline is always skewed so forgive me.
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