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discoveredinaljHappy holidays, everyone! Hope you enjoy the story.
They'd been promised a long weekend over Christmas. Four glorious days free of dodging bullets and Cowley barking orders. Plans were made. Doyle was heading home for Christmas and Bodie was going with him. No way 3.7 was spending the holiday alone in his flat. Doyle's mother was cooking up a storm, in anticipation of two hearty appetites joining the family at the dinner table. Doyle's sister and her kids were excited to meet Doyle's partner – based on the tall tales Doyle had told his eager audience on previous visits, the man was larger than life. This they had to see for themselves.
Everything was coming up roses. Presents were bought, bags were packed. Even the finicky weather decided to cooperate. A pristine sprinkle of snow lay on the ground, but the roads were bare. The sun was shining, fairy lights hung from trees and shop windows with lavish displays lured last minute shoppers inside. It promised to be a perfect Christmas.
So, of course, that's when all hell broke loose. Bomb threat on the Eastside. Kidnapping in Central London. An ambassador's son involved in drug trafficking and prostitution. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. Apparently every lunatic in Britain had decided to throw a spanner in everyone's holiday plans. So... leave canceled, everyone on high alert until the crisis passed.
To say Doyle was disappointed was an understatement. Bodie glanced over at his seething partner and grimaced. Doyle's face was as long as St. Nick's beard. His fingers tapped restlessly on the steering wheel, his mouth set in a hard line. It was going to be 'one of those' stakeouts. Heaven help that arms dealer if he set foot out of his flat tonight. Clearly, Ray was spoiling for a fight.
Fortunately, Bodie had come prepared. He reached into the back seat and pulled out the shopping bag he had stashed there. The rustle of the plastic caught Doyle's attention, and his glare at the window they were supposed to be surveilling transferred to Bodie instead.
Whatever vitriol that was about to spill from Doyle's lips sputtered into silence. Bodie grinned. Ray Doyle brought to the point of speechlessness was a moment to savour.
“What the hell is that, Bodie,” Doyle asked.
“Don't tell me you've never seen a Christmas cracker, old son?”
“Of course I have, you twit. I mean, what is it doing here?”
“It's Christmas, innit?” Bodie glanced at his watch. “Close enough, anyway.” He offered one end of the gaily decorated tube to Doyle. “So... you know what to do.”
Doyle grudgingly grabbed hold and the cracker produced a small but satisfying **BANG**. Doyle's gaze immediately shot to the second story window, but no curtains twitched, the flat remained dark and quiet. A quick radio check with Murphy and Jax, who were covering the front of the building, confirmed not a creature was stirring.
Bodie gleefully pawed through the small treasures that had spilled from the cracker. “This is for you,” he determined, handing over a green, folded tissue paper crown. “Bloody things always slide down over my eyes. Your curls should keep it in place.”
“I'm not wearing that!” Doyle declared, tossing it back in Bodie's face..
“Sure you will, sunshine. Brings out the colour of your eyes.”
Doyle glared.
Bodie carefully unfolded the crown and jammed it on Doyle's head, ignoring the flailing hands that tried to slap him away. He spared a moment to admire the effect, before turning his attention to a tiny scrap of paper. “Why did the turkey join the band?” he read.
Doyle glared.
“Because it had the drumsticks!” Bodie cackled. “Get it, Ray? Drumsticks.”
“Ha bloody ha, Bodie.”
“Aw, Ray, don't be a spoilsport. Ooh, look. A comb. You'd never get it through that mop of yours, so I guess it's mine.” He pocketed it and peered in the bulging shopping bag. “Right, then. What's next?”
“Are you saying you only splurged for one cracker?” Doyle snorted. “And they call me cheap.”
“I'll have you know I bought a box of six,” Bodie said in a haughty manner. “Thought the kiddies would enjoy them. But since that fell through... Are you saying you want to pop the others?”
“May as well,” Doyle said glumly. “Looks like we'll be here all night.”
* * *
By the time the final cracker was cracked, Doyle's mood had lightened considerably and he had his own collection of little trinkets and scraps of paper containing bad jokes.
“What else do you have in there?” he asked, trying to peek in the bag, but thwarted by Bodie yanking it out of reach.
“Ah, ah, Raymond. All in good time. We'll start with this.” He presented a thermos flask with a flourish. “Just what the doctor ordered to take away the chill.”
“That better not be a hot toddy,” Doyle warned. “One whiff of alcohol on our breath and The Cow will have our hides nailed to the wall.”
“Hot,” Bodie said, “but harmless. Hot tea, Ray.” He rustled through the bag. “ To go with a sandwich and a bag of crisps. Jelly Babies for afters. There was a tin of biscuits, but Murph sniffed them out. Still, it's a veritable Christmas feast, m'lad. So... let's eat, drink and be merry--”
“For tomorrow we die?”
“For tomorrow we may die,” Bodie gently corrected. “We knew that when we signed on, didn't we.”
Doyle grunted an affirmative and bit into what he strongly suspected would be a stale, shop-bought sandwich. “Mmm,” he mumbled around a mouthful. “This is good.”
“Should be. Made it m'self. Didn't want to starve on the way to your mum's, now did I? Knew you would be hell bent for leather to get there. No dawdling along the way.”
Silence, except for the sound of chewing, reigned until the last delicious morsel was consumed.
“Right, then,” Doyle said, popping a Jelly Baby in his mouth. “What's next in your magic bag of tricks?”
Bodie rummaged in the bag. “Ha!” he declared, drawing out a length of tinsel rope. “Time to deck the halls.” He wove a silver garland around the steering wheel of the Capri and laid the excess across the dashboard.
“Would have thought decking the halls came before the feast of Stephen,” Doyle mused.
“Nah,” Bodie said. “Had to save the best for last.” A slightly squashed-looking sprig of mistletoe tied up with a crooked red bow appeared from the depths of the bag. Bodie attached it to the rearview mirror, careful not to look Doyle in the eye as he did so. “And that's the last of the Christmas cheer,” he said, balling up the now empty bag and tossing it over his shoulder to the back seat. “So, what do you think, Ray? Festive enough for you?” He finally dared a glance at his silent partner.
What would it be? Bodie pondered. A punch or a kiss? You could never tell with Ray.
The question was answered when a warm hand cupped the back of his neck, pulling him forward into an undeniably tender kiss that promised more, much more, once they were finally off the clock.
“Happy Christmas, Bodie,” Doyle breathed as they finally parted, his breath tickling Bodie's lips.
And it was. It really was. Bodie certainly couldn't remember ever being any happier. A full belly, good company, a gunfight at dawn and the prospect of tumbling into bed with Ray. Wasn't that what Christmas was all about?
“Happy Christmas, Ray,” he said, and smiled.
* * *
Title: A Perfect Christmas
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
melanieathene
Slash or Gen: slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: yes
Disclaimer: Not mine. Bodie and Doyle belong to each other.
Notes: Thank you hugs to my beta,cali_se.
They'd been promised a long weekend over Christmas. Four glorious days free of dodging bullets and Cowley barking orders. Plans were made. Doyle was heading home for Christmas and Bodie was going with him. No way 3.7 was spending the holiday alone in his flat. Doyle's mother was cooking up a storm, in anticipation of two hearty appetites joining the family at the dinner table. Doyle's sister and her kids were excited to meet Doyle's partner – based on the tall tales Doyle had told his eager audience on previous visits, the man was larger than life. This they had to see for themselves.
Everything was coming up roses. Presents were bought, bags were packed. Even the finicky weather decided to cooperate. A pristine sprinkle of snow lay on the ground, but the roads were bare. The sun was shining, fairy lights hung from trees and shop windows with lavish displays lured last minute shoppers inside. It promised to be a perfect Christmas.
So, of course, that's when all hell broke loose. Bomb threat on the Eastside. Kidnapping in Central London. An ambassador's son involved in drug trafficking and prostitution. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. Apparently every lunatic in Britain had decided to throw a spanner in everyone's holiday plans. So... leave canceled, everyone on high alert until the crisis passed.
To say Doyle was disappointed was an understatement. Bodie glanced over at his seething partner and grimaced. Doyle's face was as long as St. Nick's beard. His fingers tapped restlessly on the steering wheel, his mouth set in a hard line. It was going to be 'one of those' stakeouts. Heaven help that arms dealer if he set foot out of his flat tonight. Clearly, Ray was spoiling for a fight.
Fortunately, Bodie had come prepared. He reached into the back seat and pulled out the shopping bag he had stashed there. The rustle of the plastic caught Doyle's attention, and his glare at the window they were supposed to be surveilling transferred to Bodie instead.
Whatever vitriol that was about to spill from Doyle's lips sputtered into silence. Bodie grinned. Ray Doyle brought to the point of speechlessness was a moment to savour.
“What the hell is that, Bodie,” Doyle asked.
“Don't tell me you've never seen a Christmas cracker, old son?”
“Of course I have, you twit. I mean, what is it doing here?”
“It's Christmas, innit?” Bodie glanced at his watch. “Close enough, anyway.” He offered one end of the gaily decorated tube to Doyle. “So... you know what to do.”
Doyle grudgingly grabbed hold and the cracker produced a small but satisfying **BANG**. Doyle's gaze immediately shot to the second story window, but no curtains twitched, the flat remained dark and quiet. A quick radio check with Murphy and Jax, who were covering the front of the building, confirmed not a creature was stirring.
Bodie gleefully pawed through the small treasures that had spilled from the cracker. “This is for you,” he determined, handing over a green, folded tissue paper crown. “Bloody things always slide down over my eyes. Your curls should keep it in place.”
“I'm not wearing that!” Doyle declared, tossing it back in Bodie's face..
“Sure you will, sunshine. Brings out the colour of your eyes.”
Doyle glared.
Bodie carefully unfolded the crown and jammed it on Doyle's head, ignoring the flailing hands that tried to slap him away. He spared a moment to admire the effect, before turning his attention to a tiny scrap of paper. “Why did the turkey join the band?” he read.
Doyle glared.
“Because it had the drumsticks!” Bodie cackled. “Get it, Ray? Drumsticks.”
“Ha bloody ha, Bodie.”
“Aw, Ray, don't be a spoilsport. Ooh, look. A comb. You'd never get it through that mop of yours, so I guess it's mine.” He pocketed it and peered in the bulging shopping bag. “Right, then. What's next?”
“Are you saying you only splurged for one cracker?” Doyle snorted. “And they call me cheap.”
“I'll have you know I bought a box of six,” Bodie said in a haughty manner. “Thought the kiddies would enjoy them. But since that fell through... Are you saying you want to pop the others?”
“May as well,” Doyle said glumly. “Looks like we'll be here all night.”
By the time the final cracker was cracked, Doyle's mood had lightened considerably and he had his own collection of little trinkets and scraps of paper containing bad jokes.
“What else do you have in there?” he asked, trying to peek in the bag, but thwarted by Bodie yanking it out of reach.
“Ah, ah, Raymond. All in good time. We'll start with this.” He presented a thermos flask with a flourish. “Just what the doctor ordered to take away the chill.”
“That better not be a hot toddy,” Doyle warned. “One whiff of alcohol on our breath and The Cow will have our hides nailed to the wall.”
“Hot,” Bodie said, “but harmless. Hot tea, Ray.” He rustled through the bag. “ To go with a sandwich and a bag of crisps. Jelly Babies for afters. There was a tin of biscuits, but Murph sniffed them out. Still, it's a veritable Christmas feast, m'lad. So... let's eat, drink and be merry--”
“For tomorrow we die?”
“For tomorrow we may die,” Bodie gently corrected. “We knew that when we signed on, didn't we.”
Doyle grunted an affirmative and bit into what he strongly suspected would be a stale, shop-bought sandwich. “Mmm,” he mumbled around a mouthful. “This is good.”
“Should be. Made it m'self. Didn't want to starve on the way to your mum's, now did I? Knew you would be hell bent for leather to get there. No dawdling along the way.”
Silence, except for the sound of chewing, reigned until the last delicious morsel was consumed.
“Right, then,” Doyle said, popping a Jelly Baby in his mouth. “What's next in your magic bag of tricks?”
Bodie rummaged in the bag. “Ha!” he declared, drawing out a length of tinsel rope. “Time to deck the halls.” He wove a silver garland around the steering wheel of the Capri and laid the excess across the dashboard.
“Would have thought decking the halls came before the feast of Stephen,” Doyle mused.
“Nah,” Bodie said. “Had to save the best for last.” A slightly squashed-looking sprig of mistletoe tied up with a crooked red bow appeared from the depths of the bag. Bodie attached it to the rearview mirror, careful not to look Doyle in the eye as he did so. “And that's the last of the Christmas cheer,” he said, balling up the now empty bag and tossing it over his shoulder to the back seat. “So, what do you think, Ray? Festive enough for you?” He finally dared a glance at his silent partner.
What would it be? Bodie pondered. A punch or a kiss? You could never tell with Ray.
The question was answered when a warm hand cupped the back of his neck, pulling him forward into an undeniably tender kiss that promised more, much more, once they were finally off the clock.
“Happy Christmas, Bodie,” Doyle breathed as they finally parted, his breath tickling Bodie's lips.
And it was. It really was. Bodie certainly couldn't remember ever being any happier. A full belly, good company, a gunfight at dawn and the prospect of tumbling into bed with Ray. Wasn't that what Christmas was all about?
“Happy Christmas, Ray,” he said, and smiled.
Title: A Perfect Christmas
Author:
melanieatheneSlash or Gen: slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: yes
Disclaimer: Not mine. Bodie and Doyle belong to each other.
Notes: Thank you hugs to my beta,
cali_se.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2022-12-20 04:54 pm (UTC)Thank you, that was so nice!
no subject
Date: 2022-12-20 05:57 pm (UTC)Glad you liked it. :)
no subject
Date: 2022-12-20 05:01 pm (UTC)Aww, that was beautifully perfect! Loved it! ❤️
no subject
Date: 2022-12-20 05:57 pm (UTC)Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2022-12-20 05:50 pm (UTC)What a nice way to make something special out of a boring stakeout. Thank you.
But I think Mr. Cowley isn't amused that you named him 'Crowley' at the beginning.
no subject
Date: 2022-12-20 05:56 pm (UTC)*headdesk* Thank you for catching that mistake. There's a Crowley in Supernatural, and the wires got crossed in my brain.
Glad you liked the story. :)
no subject
Date: 2022-12-20 06:07 pm (UTC)You're very welcome. :-)
no subject
Date: 2022-12-20 06:47 pm (UTC)A grumpy Doyle and Bodie cheering him up work so well :-) Thank you
no subject
Date: 2022-12-20 07:14 pm (UTC)Thank you for reading. Glad you enjoyed the story.
no subject
Date: 2022-12-20 10:07 pm (UTC)I love that Bodie brought Christmas with him on stakeout, and that the mistletoe was the last, best thing. Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2022-12-21 05:23 am (UTC)LOL! Can you imagine how poorly things would have gone if he'd sprung the mistletoe on a ratty Ray?
Thank you for reading.
no subject
Date: 2022-12-21 12:50 am (UTC)A lovely, fun read. Thanks.
no subject
Date: 2022-12-21 05:14 am (UTC)Ah, the simple pleasures in life... :)
Glad you enjoyed the story.
no subject
Date: 2022-12-21 03:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-12-22 05:01 am (UTC)Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2022-12-21 08:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-12-22 05:06 am (UTC)Leave it to Bodie to save Christmas. :)
no subject
Date: 2022-12-28 04:58 pm (UTC)Beautiful! I enjoyed reading it. Thanks! :-)
no subject
Date: 2022-12-30 05:07 am (UTC)Glad you enjoyed the story! Thank you for reading.