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discoveredinaljMerry Christmas, my fellow Pros fans! This is the first Bodie/Doyle story I’ve written all year, and it was such a delight to get back to the lads and craft a little festive tale for them.
I hope you all enjoy my contribution to the Advent Calendar and I wish everyone Happy Holidays!
Spending Christmas in an abandoned house had not been on Bodie’s holiday Wish List.
Well, technically, it wouldn’t be Christmas for another ten minutes. Not that Bodie gave a toss. The holiday only served to torture him with the same painful memory every year for more than a decade.
He was more upset for his partner, who loved this time of year. There was always a decorated tree in Ray’s flat, wrapped gifts beneath it, a stocking hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
Ray should be spending the day with the happy, smiling faces of his mother and two younger brothers. Instead, he was stuck with Bodie, who wished December 25th didn’t exist on the calendar.
And if Cowley’s call on the scrambler phone had come just an hour earlier, they might have made it back to London. Where Ray could’ve been with his family and Bodie could’ve been with a bottle of scotch and a very large glass.
He heaved out a sigh as he gazed out the window from where he lay on the floor in his sleeping bag, seeing nothing but snow falling silently from the sky in the moonlight. Everything was so quiet and still here. Such a sharp contrast from the constant hustle and bustle and noise of London.
Cowley had sent them to this small village yesterday, so far north they might as well be in Scotland. Tasked with hunting down a suspect, supposedly hiding out in a house in direct line of sight from this one, they were on 24/7 obbo duty. But the house they were keeping an eye on had remained dark.
As was theirs. Cowley had at least warned them they’d be sleeping rough. No electricity, no central heating. So they’d gathered up sleeping bags, a camp stove, lanterns, warm clothes, and a small box of food. In which Bodie made sure there was an ample supply of biscuits.
By some miracle there was running water, which thankfully meant a working loo. Bodie didn’t fancy stepping outside in the freezing cold and snow to do his business. Their only heat source was from the overly large fireplace in the equally large lounge. Miracle number two was discovering the woodshed beside the house and finding it dry and half full of cut logs. Most of which were now piled beside the fireplace. The final miracle had been coming across two twin size mattresses upstairs in what must have been children’s rooms.
As their only heat was the fireplace, they’d hauled the mattresses down to the lounge and arranged them side by side. The mattresses were thin, but anything was better than sleeping directly on cold, wood floors.
Bodie rolled over onto his back, staring up at the exposed beams overhead. He idly wondered who had lived here. It had once been a grand home, that he could tell. Large rooms, and plenty of them. High ceilings with crown moldings. Tastefully patterned wallpaper and floor-to-ceiling windows all throughout the lower level.
Nearly all the furniture was gone now. An empty bookcase here, a side table there. A thick layer of dust coated every surface, even the floor, mimicking the snow outside, Bodie and Ray’s footprints leaving a trail as they moved about the house.
It was nearly midnight, but they were both wide awake after Cowley’s call a few minutes ago. The Old Man had been apologetic—well, as apologetic as the gruff Scotsman ever was—informing his agents that the intel he had passed on to them had been incorrect. Their suspect had never left London and had been apprehended a short time ago.
All of this had been for nothing. Which just compounded Bodie’s irritation.
They were free to return to Town themselves now, but Mother Nature had other plans. The Capri had struggled on the way up with the amount of snow already on the country roads, and now it was a near white-out. They wouldn’t be going anywhere till morning.
“Bloody Cowley,” Bodie muttered.
“Could be worse,” came Doyle’s reply.
Bodie turned his head toward his partner. Ray was sitting cross-legged on his sleeping bag, wearing a grey sweatshirt, matching joggers, and thick socks.
“Eh?” said Bodie. “How d’you figure that?”
Doyle gave him a chipped-tooth grin. “We could’ve forgotten the tea.”
Bodie huffed out a laugh as Doyle gave him a wink and crawled over to the end of his mattress where they’d set up their camp stove. Bodie could just hear the water in the pot starting to boil.
“Now that would’ve been a crisis,” he agreed, sitting up, adjusting his blue tracksuit jacket, unzipping it slightly.
Doyle favored him with another smile over his shoulder. It hit Bodie then, how strangely upbeat Ray was about their situation. If anyone should be irritated, it should be Doyle, stranded out here, away from his family on Christmas. So if Ray could make the best of it, Bodie would also try his best to match his partner’s mood.
He watched as Doyle took the small pot off the stove and carefully poured hot water into two tin cups, with tea bags waiting patiently inside them. He placed the empty pot back on the camp stove, refilled it with cold water from one of their canteens, then picked up both cups and turned back to Bodie, holding one out to him.
Bodie leaned over and took the cup, swishing the tea bag round in the hot water for a moment before wrapping his hands around the cup, letting it warm his fingers as the tea steeped. Doyle moved back over to the center of his sleeping bag, sitting directly across from Bodie. He, too, wrapped his hands around his cup, breathing in the rising steam and the familiar, comforting scent of Earl Grey.
They fell into companionable silence for several minutes as they sipped their tea, the only sound the soft crackle of the fire. Doyle’s eyes caught Bodie’s over the rim of his cup, the corners of Ray’s mouth turning up in a little, knowing smile. A little smile that did funny things to Bodie’s insides, and caused color to rise in his cheeks. A little smile that spoke of their new connection, and all that came with it. A pleasant reminder of the last nine months – when they stopped fighting what they were feeling, took a chance, and became true partners in every sense of the word, both on the job and off.
A single beep from Doyle’s watch seemed loud in the quiet.
“Finally!” Doyle grinned, setting his cup onto the floor.
As Ray started rummaging around in his kit bag, Bodie glanced down at his own watch. Midnight.
Bodie’s brows drew together. “What is it, mate?”
Doyle held up a finger and continued pulling items from his bag until he turned around and triumphantly held up a plain brown box. He removed the top with a flourish, revealing two large, silver foil-wrapped Christmas crackers.
“What the devil?” Bodie muttered.
“Ready for some holiday cheer, my son?” Doyle smiled.
Now Bodie understood Ray’s good mood. He’d had this planned all along. Waiting for the clock to strike midnight. Waiting for Christmas to start. Bodie nearly refused the gesture. But one look at Ray’s hopeful, expectant expression and he instantly changed his mind. He would not be the prat that ruined his partner’s holiday.
He reached for one of the crackers and Doyle’s smile grew brighter. “That’s the spirit!”
It had been more than ten years since Bodie had pulled on a cracker, heard the POP of the banger, felt the curiosity of what little gifts might be inside. He’d forgotten how much silly fun it could be. Leave it to Ray to remind him.
The first paper crown was green, so of course it went to Doyle. The flimsy paper would never fit over Ray’s mop of unruly curls without tearing, so instead it perched jauntily on top of his head, slightly askew. The trinket inside, however—a tiny race car—was immediately claimed by Bodie.
The second cracker popped louder than the first, scattering the contents on the floor. This crown was red, and so large that it slid down to just above Bodie’s eyebrows. This trinket was made for Doyle—a tiny motorcycle, that he swore could beat Bodie’s race car any day.
The pages of holiday-themed jokes in the crackers were hilariously awful, pulling groans and laughs from them both.
“What do gingerbread men use when they break their legs?” Doyle asked.
“Not a clue.”
“Candy canes!”
Bodie shook his head and rolled his eyes, realizing he was smiling for the first time on Christmas since he was eleven years old. All because of Ray. And he had the perfect way to thank him.
He and Doyle had never been big on gift-giving. Ray knew he actively avoided Christmas, and for their birthdays they’d simply treat one another to a meal out, then drinks and darts at their local.
But this year was different. This would be their first Christmas together as more than just mates. In an uncharacteristic bout of sentimentality, Bodie had purchased a gift for his partner just last week. Which he had snatched up at the last minute and brought with him, tucked away in his kit bag, in case they didn’t make it back to London for the holiday.
He turned to his bag now, moving aside a cream-colored polo neck and a pair of dark brown cords, and withdrew the brightly wrapped package, which he held out to his partner.
“Happy Christmas, Ray.”
A blossom of warmth took hold in Bodie’s chest at the look on Doyle’s face. At first, surprise and disbelief, then he transformed into a wee lad sitting in front of the Christmas tree, his green eyes lighting up at the sight of his first present as he accepted the box from Bodie.
He tore off the paper with child-like abandon, prompting an amused smile from Bodie. Doyle lifted the lid off the box, and Bodie watched as his partner’s eyes went wide at the sight of a set of eight watercolor brushes.
“D’you like ‘em?” Bodie asked. “Did I pick the proper ones?”
Well, that last bit was a tiny white lie. Bodie knew bugger all about painting, but he did know that Ray deserved the best. So he’d marched into the art supply store on the high street, the one he knew Ray frequented, and told the sales clerk he wanted their most expensive set of brushes. From the look on his partner’s face, Bodie was optimistic the clerk had indeed chosen the proper ones for him.
Doyle lifted his head. “Like ‘em? Mate, I’m chuffed!” A soft, sincere smile spread across his face. “Cheers for this, Bodie.”
There was that spot of warmth again, back in Bodie’s chest, as their gazes met and held for several heartbeats.
Then Doyle set the box of brushes down and turned back to his kit bag, glancing at Bodie over his shoulder.
“To prove great minds think alike…” He turned back around with a grin, a rectangular plastic food storage container in his hands. He moved to sit next to Bodie, holding it out to him. “Happy Christmas, sunshine.”
His mouth parting in surprise, Bodie took the container, staring down at it. The first present he’d received in more years than he could remember.
Doyle finally nudged his shoulder. “Well, go on, then, open it up!”
Bodie blinked and removed the lid to reveal—a chocolate Swiss roll. His instant reaction was a bright, amused laugh, but then he took a closer look at the sweet treat. It was immediately apparent the dessert wasn’t store-bought. The overall shape was a bit irregular and not quite perfectly round, the cream filling somewhat uneven as well.
Now it was Bodie’s eyes that went wide as he looked over at his partner. “Ray is this…? Did you…make this?”
Doyle gave a little shrug. “Know it’s your favorite. Thought I’d give it a go. Sorry, it’s a bit of a right mess, innit?”
A tight lump of emotion formed in Bodie’s throat. “No.” He shook his head. “No, it’s perfect,” he whispered roughly. “Thank you, Ray. I…”
Having cut himself off from Christmas since he was a child, this simple, heartfelt gift meant more to Bodie than he could ever express in words. So he didn’t even try. He let his kiss speak for him – soft and slow and full of tender affection. Exactly like their first kiss, when words had failed him then as well.
When they eased apart, Doyle’s eyes were warm and bright, his mouth curved in a gentle smile. His crown had slipped further to the side, so Bodie reached up and placed it back on top of his curls.
“What’s your favorite Christmas memory?” Bodie asked his partner.
Doyle turned to look at him, and Bodie could see him thinking, going back in time.
“I think it’d have to be when I was nine, a year or so before my father got sick,” Doyle answered. “It was the year my brothers and I got new toboggans.” Doyle smiled at the memory. “We couldn’t get into our snowsuits fast enough and get outside. We had a small hill out in front of the house. My father came outside with us and would give us each a push.”
Doyle chuckled. “We were out there for hours, laughing, sledding, throwin’ snowballs until we were numb from the cold. When we finally went inside, Mum was there with mugs of hot chocolate and biscuits.” Doyle paused. “That was one of the happiest Christmases I remember.”
He tilted his head. “What about you, Bodie? What’s your favorite memory?” he asked and then Bodie saw him immediately grimace. “I’m sorry,” Doyle said quickly. “That was bloody daft of me.”
Bodie shook his head. He knew Ray was well aware of the life-changing moment in Bodie’s childhood—when, at the age of twelve, on Christmas Eve, Bodie’s parents and younger sister were killed in a car crash, hit by a drunk driver. Bodie was the only survivor of the wreck.
Placed in a care home, angry at the world, Bodie ran off at age fourteen to make his own way in the world. Vowing never to get attached to anyone, to need anyone, to love anyone, ever again.
And then Raymond Doyle walked into his life. Those bright green eyes and that chipped-tooth grin worked their way past Bodie’s defenses and pried open the door to his heart with the skills of a master lock-picker.
Being reminded of his loss was always painful. But maybe not tonight…
“No, it’s all right,” Bodie reassured him. “I do have a favorite—Ginny and I would go with my father every year out to our cottage up here in the north and choose the perfect tree. We’d always bicker over which one was the best,” he smiled. “When we finally agreed, my father would cut it down and we’d help drag it through the snow to the car. I loved the scent of the pine. It meant Christmas would be here soon. That, and the fresh baked gingerbread cookies my mum always had waiting for us when we got home. We’d eat them as we decorated the tree.”
He paused and looked toward the fire, his voice quiet. “I haven’t put up a tree since I lost them.”
Doyle reached out and put a hand on his leg and squeezed gently. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Bodie turned to look at him again, pushing away the sadness. “It’s all right,” he said again.
But Doyle shook his head slowly. “No, it’s not. No child should ever have to experience that kind of loss.”
Bodie thought of Ray’s father, and the cancer that took him. He covered his partner’s hand with his own. “No, they shouldn’t,” he agreed quietly.
The sound of water boiling was a welcome distraction from the somewhat melancholy mood that had fallen over the two men and Doyle cleared his throat. He tapped the plastic food container on Bodie’s lap.
“Oi, you gonna eat that or use it as a doorstop?” he grinned.
Bodie felt the cheerful atmosphere return and he smiled back at his partner. “Shall I use my fingers like a caveman? Fetch us a fork, you berk.”
Doyle gave him a cheeky smirk before crawling over to the camp stove, where they’d left their plates and cutlery beside it. He first turned off the flame and refreshed both their cups of tea with more hot water and another tea bag before presenting Bodie with a fork and sitting back down across from him.
Bodie wasted no time, digging in to the sweet treat with gusto, eagerly popping the first bite into his mouth. Doyle seemed to want to downplay his baking abilities, believing he’d failed at his first attempt. Which wasn’t the case at all.
The rich chocolate of the spongy cake blended perfectly with the lightness of the cream filling, both tastes combining to explode across Bodie’s tongue. He closed his eyes and made a sound of pure bliss.
Doyle’s laugh was highly amused. “Look like you’re havin’ the best shag of your life.”
Bodie cracked one eye open. “See what you’re missing out on with all that bland organic food?”
Doyle snorted and took a sip of his tea as Bodie smiled and took another large forkful of Swiss roll.
For the next few minutes, they ate and drank in comfortable silence, sharing glances and soft smiles. In that quiet moment, a sudden clarity came over Bodie—he felt complete, whole again, in a way he hadn’t since his family had been taken from him. That empty, hollow space inside him had been filled by the man sitting across from him.
His breath caught, his insides doing funny things again as he set down his dessert beside him and searched for the right words.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
Doyle smiled. “You already said that.”
The lump was back in Bodie’s throat and he swallowed hard. “No, for this.” He waved a hand between them. “For us. I haven’t let myself get close to anyone since I lost my family. I haven’t been this happy in a very long time. And that’s because of you. You’re my gift, Ray,” he finished, voice rough.
Doyle was very still across from him, staring at Bodie intently. He could tell his admission had deeply affected his partner, saw it reflected in those piercing green eyes. This time it was Ray who seemed at a loss for words. As their gazes locked and held, Doyle’s throat worked for a moment, his demeanor radiating affection, an unspoken acknowledgement that Bodie felt in the center of his heart.
Then Doyle’s expression gradually shifted to teasing and playful. He slowly lay back against his mattress, holding out a hand to Bodie.
“Then why don’t you come over here and unwrap me?”
A rush of heat rolled through Bodie at the invitation, urging him across the short distance that separated them in one fluid move. He straddled his partner’s slim hips, gazing down at the tempting sight beneath him.
With his crumpled Christmas crown and a sparkle in his eye, Doyle looked for all the world like Santa’s most sensuous, seductive elf.
Bodie unwrapped his gift bit by bit, peeling away each layer until Ray lay bare beneath him, his fair skin bathed in shades of oranges and reds from the fire burning so brightly in the hearth. Then it was Doyle’s turn, his nimble fingers divesting Bodie of his own wrapping, until there was nothing at all between them.
They sank into one another’s embrace, into a kiss so perfect, so intimate, it was as if they’d been doing this for years, instead of months.
They made love by firelight, illuminated in cool moonlight, Bodie joining them together as one. He took them as high as the Christmas star, where they came together in blinding white light, before drifting down like shimmering snowflakes, to rest in entwined in each other’s arms.
They kissed languidly, soft smiles on their faces, their breathing slowing, and Bodie regretfully slipped from Ray’s body. He rolled onto his back and Doyle followed him, turning over to blanket Bodie’s body with his own.
Bodie wrapped his arms around Ray with a contented sigh, closing his eyes as his partner settled against him, kissing Bodie softly on the side of his neck. A moment before sleep claimed Bodie, Doyle shifted, sitting up and leaning over Bodie’s body, toward the windows.
Bodie turned his head and watched as Ray drew a Christmas tree in the dust on the floor.
Doyle smiled gently at him as he laid back down beside him. He brushed his thumb across Bodie’s cheek and whispered three little words against his ear. Bodie’s chest constricted with the emotion welling up inside him at Ray’s small gesture, his thoughtful gift, and his words.
He held his partner tightly and let his eyes drift closed, believing for the first time in a decade, he could learn to love Christmas again.
THE END
Title: How Bodie Learned to Love Christmas Again
Author: AgtSpooky
Slash or Gen: Slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: Yes, please!
Disclaimer: I don’t own them, more’s the pity. Just borrowing!
Notes: After a devastating childhood tragedy, it’s been more than a decade since Bodie celebrated Christmas. Then along comes Ray Doyle with a Swiss roll and a paper crown.
I hope you all enjoy my contribution to the Advent Calendar and I wish everyone Happy Holidays!
How Bodie Learned to Love Christmas Again
By AgtSpooky
December 18, 2024
By AgtSpooky
December 18, 2024
Spending Christmas in an abandoned house had not been on Bodie’s holiday Wish List.
Well, technically, it wouldn’t be Christmas for another ten minutes. Not that Bodie gave a toss. The holiday only served to torture him with the same painful memory every year for more than a decade.
He was more upset for his partner, who loved this time of year. There was always a decorated tree in Ray’s flat, wrapped gifts beneath it, a stocking hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
Ray should be spending the day with the happy, smiling faces of his mother and two younger brothers. Instead, he was stuck with Bodie, who wished December 25th didn’t exist on the calendar.
And if Cowley’s call on the scrambler phone had come just an hour earlier, they might have made it back to London. Where Ray could’ve been with his family and Bodie could’ve been with a bottle of scotch and a very large glass.
He heaved out a sigh as he gazed out the window from where he lay on the floor in his sleeping bag, seeing nothing but snow falling silently from the sky in the moonlight. Everything was so quiet and still here. Such a sharp contrast from the constant hustle and bustle and noise of London.
Cowley had sent them to this small village yesterday, so far north they might as well be in Scotland. Tasked with hunting down a suspect, supposedly hiding out in a house in direct line of sight from this one, they were on 24/7 obbo duty. But the house they were keeping an eye on had remained dark.
As was theirs. Cowley had at least warned them they’d be sleeping rough. No electricity, no central heating. So they’d gathered up sleeping bags, a camp stove, lanterns, warm clothes, and a small box of food. In which Bodie made sure there was an ample supply of biscuits.
By some miracle there was running water, which thankfully meant a working loo. Bodie didn’t fancy stepping outside in the freezing cold and snow to do his business. Their only heat source was from the overly large fireplace in the equally large lounge. Miracle number two was discovering the woodshed beside the house and finding it dry and half full of cut logs. Most of which were now piled beside the fireplace. The final miracle had been coming across two twin size mattresses upstairs in what must have been children’s rooms.
As their only heat was the fireplace, they’d hauled the mattresses down to the lounge and arranged them side by side. The mattresses were thin, but anything was better than sleeping directly on cold, wood floors.
Bodie rolled over onto his back, staring up at the exposed beams overhead. He idly wondered who had lived here. It had once been a grand home, that he could tell. Large rooms, and plenty of them. High ceilings with crown moldings. Tastefully patterned wallpaper and floor-to-ceiling windows all throughout the lower level.
Nearly all the furniture was gone now. An empty bookcase here, a side table there. A thick layer of dust coated every surface, even the floor, mimicking the snow outside, Bodie and Ray’s footprints leaving a trail as they moved about the house.
It was nearly midnight, but they were both wide awake after Cowley’s call a few minutes ago. The Old Man had been apologetic—well, as apologetic as the gruff Scotsman ever was—informing his agents that the intel he had passed on to them had been incorrect. Their suspect had never left London and had been apprehended a short time ago.
All of this had been for nothing. Which just compounded Bodie’s irritation.
They were free to return to Town themselves now, but Mother Nature had other plans. The Capri had struggled on the way up with the amount of snow already on the country roads, and now it was a near white-out. They wouldn’t be going anywhere till morning.
“Bloody Cowley,” Bodie muttered.
“Could be worse,” came Doyle’s reply.
Bodie turned his head toward his partner. Ray was sitting cross-legged on his sleeping bag, wearing a grey sweatshirt, matching joggers, and thick socks.
“Eh?” said Bodie. “How d’you figure that?”
Doyle gave him a chipped-tooth grin. “We could’ve forgotten the tea.”
Bodie huffed out a laugh as Doyle gave him a wink and crawled over to the end of his mattress where they’d set up their camp stove. Bodie could just hear the water in the pot starting to boil.
“Now that would’ve been a crisis,” he agreed, sitting up, adjusting his blue tracksuit jacket, unzipping it slightly.
Doyle favored him with another smile over his shoulder. It hit Bodie then, how strangely upbeat Ray was about their situation. If anyone should be irritated, it should be Doyle, stranded out here, away from his family on Christmas. So if Ray could make the best of it, Bodie would also try his best to match his partner’s mood.
He watched as Doyle took the small pot off the stove and carefully poured hot water into two tin cups, with tea bags waiting patiently inside them. He placed the empty pot back on the camp stove, refilled it with cold water from one of their canteens, then picked up both cups and turned back to Bodie, holding one out to him.
Bodie leaned over and took the cup, swishing the tea bag round in the hot water for a moment before wrapping his hands around the cup, letting it warm his fingers as the tea steeped. Doyle moved back over to the center of his sleeping bag, sitting directly across from Bodie. He, too, wrapped his hands around his cup, breathing in the rising steam and the familiar, comforting scent of Earl Grey.
They fell into companionable silence for several minutes as they sipped their tea, the only sound the soft crackle of the fire. Doyle’s eyes caught Bodie’s over the rim of his cup, the corners of Ray’s mouth turning up in a little, knowing smile. A little smile that did funny things to Bodie’s insides, and caused color to rise in his cheeks. A little smile that spoke of their new connection, and all that came with it. A pleasant reminder of the last nine months – when they stopped fighting what they were feeling, took a chance, and became true partners in every sense of the word, both on the job and off.
A single beep from Doyle’s watch seemed loud in the quiet.
“Finally!” Doyle grinned, setting his cup onto the floor.
As Ray started rummaging around in his kit bag, Bodie glanced down at his own watch. Midnight.
Bodie’s brows drew together. “What is it, mate?”
Doyle held up a finger and continued pulling items from his bag until he turned around and triumphantly held up a plain brown box. He removed the top with a flourish, revealing two large, silver foil-wrapped Christmas crackers.
“What the devil?” Bodie muttered.
“Ready for some holiday cheer, my son?” Doyle smiled.
Now Bodie understood Ray’s good mood. He’d had this planned all along. Waiting for the clock to strike midnight. Waiting for Christmas to start. Bodie nearly refused the gesture. But one look at Ray’s hopeful, expectant expression and he instantly changed his mind. He would not be the prat that ruined his partner’s holiday.
He reached for one of the crackers and Doyle’s smile grew brighter. “That’s the spirit!”
It had been more than ten years since Bodie had pulled on a cracker, heard the POP of the banger, felt the curiosity of what little gifts might be inside. He’d forgotten how much silly fun it could be. Leave it to Ray to remind him.
The first paper crown was green, so of course it went to Doyle. The flimsy paper would never fit over Ray’s mop of unruly curls without tearing, so instead it perched jauntily on top of his head, slightly askew. The trinket inside, however—a tiny race car—was immediately claimed by Bodie.
The second cracker popped louder than the first, scattering the contents on the floor. This crown was red, and so large that it slid down to just above Bodie’s eyebrows. This trinket was made for Doyle—a tiny motorcycle, that he swore could beat Bodie’s race car any day.
The pages of holiday-themed jokes in the crackers were hilariously awful, pulling groans and laughs from them both.
“What do gingerbread men use when they break their legs?” Doyle asked.
“Not a clue.”
“Candy canes!”
Bodie shook his head and rolled his eyes, realizing he was smiling for the first time on Christmas since he was eleven years old. All because of Ray. And he had the perfect way to thank him.
He and Doyle had never been big on gift-giving. Ray knew he actively avoided Christmas, and for their birthdays they’d simply treat one another to a meal out, then drinks and darts at their local.
But this year was different. This would be their first Christmas together as more than just mates. In an uncharacteristic bout of sentimentality, Bodie had purchased a gift for his partner just last week. Which he had snatched up at the last minute and brought with him, tucked away in his kit bag, in case they didn’t make it back to London for the holiday.
He turned to his bag now, moving aside a cream-colored polo neck and a pair of dark brown cords, and withdrew the brightly wrapped package, which he held out to his partner.
“Happy Christmas, Ray.”
A blossom of warmth took hold in Bodie’s chest at the look on Doyle’s face. At first, surprise and disbelief, then he transformed into a wee lad sitting in front of the Christmas tree, his green eyes lighting up at the sight of his first present as he accepted the box from Bodie.
He tore off the paper with child-like abandon, prompting an amused smile from Bodie. Doyle lifted the lid off the box, and Bodie watched as his partner’s eyes went wide at the sight of a set of eight watercolor brushes.
“D’you like ‘em?” Bodie asked. “Did I pick the proper ones?”
Well, that last bit was a tiny white lie. Bodie knew bugger all about painting, but he did know that Ray deserved the best. So he’d marched into the art supply store on the high street, the one he knew Ray frequented, and told the sales clerk he wanted their most expensive set of brushes. From the look on his partner’s face, Bodie was optimistic the clerk had indeed chosen the proper ones for him.
Doyle lifted his head. “Like ‘em? Mate, I’m chuffed!” A soft, sincere smile spread across his face. “Cheers for this, Bodie.”
There was that spot of warmth again, back in Bodie’s chest, as their gazes met and held for several heartbeats.
Then Doyle set the box of brushes down and turned back to his kit bag, glancing at Bodie over his shoulder.
“To prove great minds think alike…” He turned back around with a grin, a rectangular plastic food storage container in his hands. He moved to sit next to Bodie, holding it out to him. “Happy Christmas, sunshine.”
His mouth parting in surprise, Bodie took the container, staring down at it. The first present he’d received in more years than he could remember.
Doyle finally nudged his shoulder. “Well, go on, then, open it up!”
Bodie blinked and removed the lid to reveal—a chocolate Swiss roll. His instant reaction was a bright, amused laugh, but then he took a closer look at the sweet treat. It was immediately apparent the dessert wasn’t store-bought. The overall shape was a bit irregular and not quite perfectly round, the cream filling somewhat uneven as well.
Now it was Bodie’s eyes that went wide as he looked over at his partner. “Ray is this…? Did you…make this?”
Doyle gave a little shrug. “Know it’s your favorite. Thought I’d give it a go. Sorry, it’s a bit of a right mess, innit?”
A tight lump of emotion formed in Bodie’s throat. “No.” He shook his head. “No, it’s perfect,” he whispered roughly. “Thank you, Ray. I…”
Having cut himself off from Christmas since he was a child, this simple, heartfelt gift meant more to Bodie than he could ever express in words. So he didn’t even try. He let his kiss speak for him – soft and slow and full of tender affection. Exactly like their first kiss, when words had failed him then as well.
When they eased apart, Doyle’s eyes were warm and bright, his mouth curved in a gentle smile. His crown had slipped further to the side, so Bodie reached up and placed it back on top of his curls.
“What’s your favorite Christmas memory?” Bodie asked his partner.
Doyle turned to look at him, and Bodie could see him thinking, going back in time.
“I think it’d have to be when I was nine, a year or so before my father got sick,” Doyle answered. “It was the year my brothers and I got new toboggans.” Doyle smiled at the memory. “We couldn’t get into our snowsuits fast enough and get outside. We had a small hill out in front of the house. My father came outside with us and would give us each a push.”
Doyle chuckled. “We were out there for hours, laughing, sledding, throwin’ snowballs until we were numb from the cold. When we finally went inside, Mum was there with mugs of hot chocolate and biscuits.” Doyle paused. “That was one of the happiest Christmases I remember.”
He tilted his head. “What about you, Bodie? What’s your favorite memory?” he asked and then Bodie saw him immediately grimace. “I’m sorry,” Doyle said quickly. “That was bloody daft of me.”
Bodie shook his head. He knew Ray was well aware of the life-changing moment in Bodie’s childhood—when, at the age of twelve, on Christmas Eve, Bodie’s parents and younger sister were killed in a car crash, hit by a drunk driver. Bodie was the only survivor of the wreck.
Placed in a care home, angry at the world, Bodie ran off at age fourteen to make his own way in the world. Vowing never to get attached to anyone, to need anyone, to love anyone, ever again.
And then Raymond Doyle walked into his life. Those bright green eyes and that chipped-tooth grin worked their way past Bodie’s defenses and pried open the door to his heart with the skills of a master lock-picker.
Being reminded of his loss was always painful. But maybe not tonight…
“No, it’s all right,” Bodie reassured him. “I do have a favorite—Ginny and I would go with my father every year out to our cottage up here in the north and choose the perfect tree. We’d always bicker over which one was the best,” he smiled. “When we finally agreed, my father would cut it down and we’d help drag it through the snow to the car. I loved the scent of the pine. It meant Christmas would be here soon. That, and the fresh baked gingerbread cookies my mum always had waiting for us when we got home. We’d eat them as we decorated the tree.”
He paused and looked toward the fire, his voice quiet. “I haven’t put up a tree since I lost them.”
Doyle reached out and put a hand on his leg and squeezed gently. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Bodie turned to look at him again, pushing away the sadness. “It’s all right,” he said again.
But Doyle shook his head slowly. “No, it’s not. No child should ever have to experience that kind of loss.”
Bodie thought of Ray’s father, and the cancer that took him. He covered his partner’s hand with his own. “No, they shouldn’t,” he agreed quietly.
The sound of water boiling was a welcome distraction from the somewhat melancholy mood that had fallen over the two men and Doyle cleared his throat. He tapped the plastic food container on Bodie’s lap.
“Oi, you gonna eat that or use it as a doorstop?” he grinned.
Bodie felt the cheerful atmosphere return and he smiled back at his partner. “Shall I use my fingers like a caveman? Fetch us a fork, you berk.”
Doyle gave him a cheeky smirk before crawling over to the camp stove, where they’d left their plates and cutlery beside it. He first turned off the flame and refreshed both their cups of tea with more hot water and another tea bag before presenting Bodie with a fork and sitting back down across from him.
Bodie wasted no time, digging in to the sweet treat with gusto, eagerly popping the first bite into his mouth. Doyle seemed to want to downplay his baking abilities, believing he’d failed at his first attempt. Which wasn’t the case at all.
The rich chocolate of the spongy cake blended perfectly with the lightness of the cream filling, both tastes combining to explode across Bodie’s tongue. He closed his eyes and made a sound of pure bliss.
Doyle’s laugh was highly amused. “Look like you’re havin’ the best shag of your life.”
Bodie cracked one eye open. “See what you’re missing out on with all that bland organic food?”
Doyle snorted and took a sip of his tea as Bodie smiled and took another large forkful of Swiss roll.
For the next few minutes, they ate and drank in comfortable silence, sharing glances and soft smiles. In that quiet moment, a sudden clarity came over Bodie—he felt complete, whole again, in a way he hadn’t since his family had been taken from him. That empty, hollow space inside him had been filled by the man sitting across from him.
His breath caught, his insides doing funny things again as he set down his dessert beside him and searched for the right words.
“Thank you,” he said softly.
Doyle smiled. “You already said that.”
The lump was back in Bodie’s throat and he swallowed hard. “No, for this.” He waved a hand between them. “For us. I haven’t let myself get close to anyone since I lost my family. I haven’t been this happy in a very long time. And that’s because of you. You’re my gift, Ray,” he finished, voice rough.
Doyle was very still across from him, staring at Bodie intently. He could tell his admission had deeply affected his partner, saw it reflected in those piercing green eyes. This time it was Ray who seemed at a loss for words. As their gazes locked and held, Doyle’s throat worked for a moment, his demeanor radiating affection, an unspoken acknowledgement that Bodie felt in the center of his heart.
Then Doyle’s expression gradually shifted to teasing and playful. He slowly lay back against his mattress, holding out a hand to Bodie.
“Then why don’t you come over here and unwrap me?”
A rush of heat rolled through Bodie at the invitation, urging him across the short distance that separated them in one fluid move. He straddled his partner’s slim hips, gazing down at the tempting sight beneath him.
With his crumpled Christmas crown and a sparkle in his eye, Doyle looked for all the world like Santa’s most sensuous, seductive elf.
Bodie unwrapped his gift bit by bit, peeling away each layer until Ray lay bare beneath him, his fair skin bathed in shades of oranges and reds from the fire burning so brightly in the hearth. Then it was Doyle’s turn, his nimble fingers divesting Bodie of his own wrapping, until there was nothing at all between them.
They sank into one another’s embrace, into a kiss so perfect, so intimate, it was as if they’d been doing this for years, instead of months.
They made love by firelight, illuminated in cool moonlight, Bodie joining them together as one. He took them as high as the Christmas star, where they came together in blinding white light, before drifting down like shimmering snowflakes, to rest in entwined in each other’s arms.
They kissed languidly, soft smiles on their faces, their breathing slowing, and Bodie regretfully slipped from Ray’s body. He rolled onto his back and Doyle followed him, turning over to blanket Bodie’s body with his own.
Bodie wrapped his arms around Ray with a contented sigh, closing his eyes as his partner settled against him, kissing Bodie softly on the side of his neck. A moment before sleep claimed Bodie, Doyle shifted, sitting up and leaning over Bodie’s body, toward the windows.
Bodie turned his head and watched as Ray drew a Christmas tree in the dust on the floor.
Doyle smiled gently at him as he laid back down beside him. He brushed his thumb across Bodie’s cheek and whispered three little words against his ear. Bodie’s chest constricted with the emotion welling up inside him at Ray’s small gesture, his thoughtful gift, and his words.
He held his partner tightly and let his eyes drift closed, believing for the first time in a decade, he could learn to love Christmas again.
THE END
Title: How Bodie Learned to Love Christmas Again
Author: AgtSpooky
Slash or Gen: Slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: Yes, please!
Disclaimer: I don’t own them, more’s the pity. Just borrowing!
Notes: After a devastating childhood tragedy, it’s been more than a decade since Bodie celebrated Christmas. Then along comes Ray Doyle with a Swiss roll and a paper crown.
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Date: 2024-12-18 03:27 pm (UTC)That was simply a beautiful story. I could see them together, talking and enjoying themselves. So nice. The pressie exchange and memories exchange was lovely. Thank you for this.
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Date: 2024-12-18 08:12 pm (UTC)Aww, you put the biggest smile on my face! I'm so thrilled you enjoyed the story. ❤️ Merry Christmas!
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Date: 2024-12-18 03:57 pm (UTC)Wonderful. A lovely, touching story.
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Date: 2024-12-18 08:13 pm (UTC)Thank you so much! It makes me very happy you enjoyed the story. ❤️ Merry Christmas!
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Date: 2024-12-18 04:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-12-18 08:13 pm (UTC)And you made my day with your wonderful feedback! I'm thrilled you enjoyed the story. ❤️ Merry Christmas!
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Date: 2024-12-18 05:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-12-18 08:14 pm (UTC)I'm very happy you liked my little Christmas story. 😀❤️
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Date: 2024-12-18 08:33 pm (UTC)This was a beautiful story! Thank you so much for sharing it!
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Date: 2024-12-19 01:18 am (UTC)Aww, thank you! I'm so pleased you enjoyed it. ❤️ Merry Christmas!
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Date: 2024-12-18 10:18 pm (UTC)Such a rewarding Christmas story, a very enjoyable read! :-)
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Date: 2024-12-19 01:19 am (UTC)Thank you so much! I'm very happy you enjoyed my little story. ❤️ Merry Christmas!
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Date: 2024-12-19 02:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-12-19 02:49 pm (UTC)Aww, thank YOU for your lovely feedback! I'm so happy you enjoyed my little story. ❤️ Merry Christmas!
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Date: 2024-12-19 08:02 am (UTC)Thank you. That was a sweet story (at least for Bodie it was!). And Doyle "looked for all the world like Santa’s most sensuous, seductive elf." Awww
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Date: 2024-12-19 02:51 pm (UTC)That elf bit was my favorite line to write, so I love that you mentioned it! Very happy you enjoyed the story. ❤️ Merry Christmas!
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Date: 2024-12-19 10:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-12-20 01:15 am (UTC)Thank YOU for your wonderful feedback! I'm very happy you enjoyed the story. ❤️ Merry Christmas!
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Date: 2024-12-20 09:56 pm (UTC)Oh, they certainly had a fine time! (Though I did get a bit worried about the 24/7 obbo duty they were supposed to be on...)
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Date: 2024-12-21 01:06 am (UTC)Hee! They absolutely did have a fine holiday. 😉 But at least they were good and controlled themselves until after their obbo duty was officially called off. 😅 Very glad you enjoyed the story!
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Date: 2024-12-24 11:54 am (UTC)Utterly perfect!
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Date: 2024-12-25 07:46 pm (UTC)Aww, thank you so much! It makes me very happy you enjoyed my little story. ❤️ Merry Christmas!
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Date: 2024-12-27 02:03 am (UTC)I loved the idea of Bodie getting a car and Doyle getting a motorcycle in their crackers... and each believing they'd win if they raced! That's just a perfect image of the two of them competing and teasing each other at the same time.
I hate the thought of Bodie drinking through the holiday, but that's never going to happen again after the events in this story. Very nicely done!
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Date: 2024-12-28 01:48 am (UTC)Thank you SO much for your wonderful feedback! It makes me smile that you bring up their little prizes in their crackers. I put a lot of thought into what I should give them both, and you absolutely "got" what I was going for. 😀 And no, you don't have to worry about Bodie being alone with a bottle of scotch on Christmas ever again. He now has something much more pleasurable to get him through the holiday. ❤️
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Date: 2024-12-31 11:48 am (UTC)Best wishes for Christmas and the New Year!
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Date: 2024-12-31 02:41 pm (UTC)Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback! I'm thrilled you enjoyed my little story. 😀 A very Happy New Year to you as well! ❤️