A Chat With Father


NOTE: Martin Shaw, who played Doyle, also starred in the series The Chief. In an interview he once described the title character, Alan Cade, as Doyle grows up. As the series is wonderful and the role delicious, various Pros writers, including myself, have tried to come up with ways to make Cade part of the Pros universe. This was my third outing with trying to mix the shows. I have had some readers object because Cade wouldn't be old enough to be Doyle's father if the show's aired at the same time. To that, all I can say is the age gap would be exactly the same as the one between my own father and myself.

It had been a long time coming. He smiled with delight as he took the smaller man into his arms, then kissed him. Oh, it felt good, so good he deepened the touch, his tongue slipping between lips parted for his admittance.

He fought not to laugh. All those arguments, all the maneuvering to show who was the better man reduced to this glorious moment. They'd been such bloody fools.

His hands moved to the buttons of his soon-to-be lover's shirt, only vaguely noticing the buttons of his own shirt were being dealt with as well. He thought with regret of the time wasted, of unsatisfying relationships that had always ended in pain because he hadn't had the sense to see what had been before him all the time.

A part of his mind warned him not to assume, that the man stripping him with such efficiency had agreed to a night of sex, not a lasting commitment. Hell, for all he knew this was a one off, a night full of promise and hope for him, but one his lover would regret come dawn.

He mourned that, wanted desperately to whisper soft, loving words into the nearest ear, but gasped instead as clever fingers found his erect flesh. Then he couldn't think anymore and surrendered to the pleasure. Tomorrow would take care of itself.

The bright dawn of a clear summer morning teased the bedroom curtains as a pair of blue eyes opened. In the first moment of waking, William Andrew Philip Bodie felt confused. Not by finding himself in a bedroom other than his own -- that was hardly a rare occurrence -- but by finding himself in his partner's bedroom while his skin tingled from being well loved the previous night. In his sleep-fogged mind the two things did not match up, then he remembered and smiled.

He and Ray had made love last night. No, that wasn't right, he told himself. He had made love. How Raymond Doyle saw things might be a whole other matter. A glance at the bedside clock told him he'd know soon enough. Fifteen minutes before the alarm went off.

Bodie thought about staying in bed and enjoying the warm body he'd snuggled up against, but he wouldn't be able to stand it if Doyle woke and reacted negatively to the closeness and the memory of last night. Better to give the rat-tempered golli a few minutes alone to decide what he wanted from his partner.

With regret, Bodie slipped carefully out of the bed, then the room. Though not anxious to wash away the sweat and dried semen from last night, he headed for the loo, knowing Doyle's alarm had been set with the idea of getting one person ready for work, not two. Since Doyle's current flat lacked a shower, he filled the tub while he cleaned his teeth, then shaved. Once finished, he slid into the tub, but his thoughts were a muddle of memory and hope the hot water did little to soothe. Bodie was in love. He'd actually gone and fallen for his impossible berk of a partner. Looking back on it, he'd been in love with Doyle for years, perhaps from the first moment he saw the ugly/gorgeous face with its large green, cat-like eyes. Christ, it was hard to absorb.

They'd been fighting last night, too wound up after a messy op to be civil to anyone let alone one another. Four arms smugglers had decided to go down fighting and now claimed residence in the local morgue. Nasty bit of work taking them out, but Bodie had never felt his own or Doyle's life to be at extreme risk. Odd that.

All the times one or both of them had almost died, and not once had they sought comfort or reassurance in each other's arms. Might have understood if it had happened one of those nights. Instead, they'd been high on adrenaline, shouting at each other, then. ...

Bodie shook his head, and began soaping up a flannel. Finding no way to make sense out of the matter, he settled on giving himself a brisk wash from head to toe, then rinsed off with the sprayer attached to the tub.

He was reaching for the plug when Doyle stumbled in, and Bodie opted to stay in the tub, letting the soapy water hide what it could. His partner gave him a vague nod to acknowledge his existence, then set about getting the scum off his own teeth.

That accomplished Doyle picked up his electric razor and went to work on a night's worth of stubble as he regarded Bodie with a rather inscrutable stare.

It could have meant anything and did nothing to reassure Bodie, who was beginning to feel foolish sitting in the tub when he'd obviously finished washing. He looked away from the green eyes, trying to find enough courage to stand up.

Before he could manage the trick of it, Doyle switched off the razor. The silence was deafening, propelling Bodie's hand to the plug in hopes the draining water would end it. But he found he couldn't reach the plug for Doyle's weight suddenly pushed him back and settled on top of him.

"Morning," Doyle murmured, then captured Bodie's mouth in a long, deep kiss bringing his cock to immediate attention.

He moaned his pleasure even as his mind protested they didn't have time for this. Then his eyes widened as Doyle lifted first one of Bodie's legs, then the other and draped them over the sides of the tub. His back resting against the slope of hard procelin, his legs propped up and out of the way, he found himself in the perfect position for Doyle to. ... Bodie hadn't bargained on this at all, but soapy fingers pushed at his anus, convincing him this was one of Doyle's better ideas.

"Oh, Christ," he gasped as first one digit, then a second penetrated him. He arched up against the body holding him in place, his cock hungry for the press of Doyle's belly, while his arse clenched with wanton abandon around the man's fingers. He found he wanted very much to feel something thicker and longer inside him.

He was on the point of begging, when the fingers withdrew and Doyle's cock began the slow push into him. It hurt. Yes, somewhere beneath the pleasure, beneath the feeling nothing had ever felt so right before, Bodie noted it did hurt. He just didn't give a damn. Held almost immobile by the tub and the man thrusting into him, Bodie could do little more than squirm against the sensations flooding through him, but he made up for the lack of physical response with heartfelt moans and demands for Doyle to take him harder, faster.

When he finally came, he was beyond speech, his release accompanied by a soft gasp that seemed at odds with his shuddering body. His response seemed to push Doyle over the edge, for he clutched Bodie tightly, then his seed spurted up into him.

It was not a new sensation for Bodie, who had known more than one intruder into his body, yet. ... Bodie knew everything he felt must be reflected on his face, so he tried to look away, but Doyle's hand captured his chin, forcing him to meet questioning eyes.

Neither of them said a word, then Doyle kissed him. "Get out of the tub, mate," Ray said when their lips parted. He kicked the plug loose and picked up the sprayer. "Got to do a fast wash up if we want to get to work on time."

Shaken, Bodie obeyed, all too aware that while Doyle did not seem displeased, he had not had the look of a man in love. That knowledge kept him silent as they dressed, ate breakfast, then headed for CI5 Headquarters in Bodie's silver Capri.

Before either of them could decide to end the silence, Central called with a request from one of Doyle's informers for an immediate meet. The detour led to a tip on a drug ring they'd been trying to crack for months. They followed up the meet with a bit of nosing about, then arrived at Headquarters three hours late, but certain Cowley wouldn't mind the delay.

Still as they walked toward the old man's office, Doyle wore an ever deepening frown. Just short of the door marked Controller CI5, he stopped and looked at Bodie. "We'll have to tell him."

"Eh?" Of course, they'd have to tell him. Had a major drug bust to set up that would require more man power than the two of them alone. Then the penny dropped. "You mean about us?"

Doyle nodded. "You know the rules, sunshine."

Yeah. CI5 personnel could do as they pleased with their sex lives, but it had to go into the security files. Bodie sighed, thinking he'd rather have his arm broken than have this particular chat with Cowley. Then again, the fact Doyle thought it necessary. ... "That mean you're planning on having your wicked way with me again, Ray?"

"Was too grand for a one-off, Bodie."

Though far from the declaration of love Bodie would have liked, it did give him hope and it made him reckless. "Then I'll tell him." Doyle gave him a look, but Bodie merely shrugged. "Might not take the news of your latest conquest well, sunshine. Best he hears it from me."

"Might be right about that." Doyle shook his head, then gave his partner a sheepish grin. "Think I'd know better than to give the boss' blue-eyed boy a tumble."

The flippant choice of words might have hurt, but the absurdness of the situation kept the sting out of them. "Just make yourself scarce after we give him the good news about the drugs case, and I might be able to convince Daddy not to have you fixed."

"Ha bloody ha," Doyle muttered, then pushed open the door.

George Cowley was indeed pleased to hear about the fruits of their morning's labor, and the three of them spent close to an hour going over the details of the impending op. Once all were satisfied with the plan, Doyle made some noises about rounding up the team, but before he could make his escape and leave Bodie alone in the Cow's den, the office door burst open.

"God damn it, Cowley! What the hell are you trying to pull this time?"

Bodie had to give Alan Cade a ten for volume, but the originality of the entrance rated a one -- he'd come storming in like this at least once a week for the six months since he'd been made head of the national CID. "Been a week already, has it?" he asked, even as Doyle hustled him out of the office.

Doyle got him clear of the door, then kicked it shut behind them so the yelling could begin. The heavy wood blocked most of the conversation going on behind it, but phrases like "you and your fucking storm troopers," and "Machiavelli's worst nightmare" managed to reach their ears.

Bodie glowered at Doyle. "Your father is putting my father in a bad mood."

Doyle sighed. "Too right he is," he answered then flinched as a rather pointed reference to Cowley's questionable parenthood made itself heard. He shook his head, then headed up the hallway. "Shall I shoot meself now, or let Cowley do it later?"

Bodie made a show of giving the matter serious consideration. "Well, my dad has so few pleasures in his life," he said as they entered the rest room. "Give him a thrill and let him do it."

"Gosh, thanks, Bodie," Doyle muttered throwing himself down into the nearest chair.

The golli looked so dejected Bodie had to say, "Cheer up, Ray. You know Cowley's never held you responsible for your dad's doings. At least no more than Cade does me for mine." He frowned, uncertain if that had made any sense, but decided as the situation didn't, he didn't have to either. The odds on the bastard sons of two senior men in British law enforcement being partners, let alone lovers had to be staggering, and that those two stately bastions of law and order didn't like each other made things even more bizarre. "Two of them must be punishment for our sins, Raymond."

"Yeah. But at least your pain in the arse approves of what you do for a living."

He gave Doyle an exasperated look. "Sometimes I think you just like wallowing in these moods of yours. Know as well as I do Cade is proud of you."

Doyle started to nod, then groaned, dropping his head into his hands.

"What is it?"

"Cowley's your dad."

That being one of the worst kept secrets in CI5 and a fact known to Doyle since a few days after he and Bodie had been partnered, Bodie couldn't exactly be blamed for his rather sarky response of, "Oh, my god! Say it isn't so!"

Doyle lifted his head enough to glare at him. "Prat. We have to tell Cowley about us because of the security rules, but Cowley is your dad, and if my dad --"

"Finds out we told my father and not him. ..." Bodie finished the thought, then whistled in admiration at Doyle's dilemma. "Looks like I'm not the only one who has to have a wee chat with father."

Doyle's glare factor increased two-fold. "Your support overwhelms me. Jesus, Bodie, he'll kill me! First I go off and join CI5, then this."

"You've dated worse," Bodie pointed out, fully prepared to give him a long list to support that position.

"Yeah, but they usually had the proper equipment between their legs."

"How crude," he answered, then put the usually' together with the fact Doyle had fucked him like a man who knew exactly what he was doing. "I wasn't your first, was I?"

"No," Doyle admitted. "First since before I decided to join the Met, but not my first."

"Ah." He felt an irrational surge of jealousy, then reminded himself he was far from a virgin himself. "So you played both sides of the street when you were a kid, but your old man doesn't know?"

"Dunno. Never actually told him I did, but he's a smart fella, always figured he'd sussed it himself."

"Humph, there are obviously advantages to not working for your own father," Bodie muttered. Cowley had never had the luxury of any doubt. And if Bodie had been an unwilling participant in his past same-sex relationships. ... well, he couldn't see his father taking much comfort from that.

"Can carve that on my tombstone," Doyle muttered even as the door opened and Cade walked in. It had been one of the man's shorter rows with Cowley.

"I'm not certain I like hearing my son plan his funeral, Ray," Cade said. "And I'm not taking you to lunch if you're going to spend it in one of your moods."

Bodie couldn't help but smile. "My father still alive?" he asked.

"Last I saw of him. You care to join us for lunch?"

It had always pleased Bodie that despite the ill will between Cade and Cowley, Cade seemed to like him. Especially since he rather liked Cade. He was so much like Doyle. Except for darker, straighter hair and the evidence of a nineteen-year age difference, the two of them could have been twins. Even had the same misshapen cheekbone. Until he'd met Cade, Bodie had always figured the right cheek to have been the result of some fight, but it had turned out to be a bone abnormality common in Cade's family. Yes, each as bad as the other the two of them were, and Bodie normally enjoyed their company, but he shook his head. "I've got to talk to Cow-- my father about something."

Doyle looked alarm. "Mate --"

"No sense putting it off, Raymond," Bodie said, moving toward the door. "You two have a good lunch."

He left the rest room, then returned to George Cowley's office, finding the man busy reading a file. Bodie cleared his throat, claiming his father's attention. "Rumor has it that fathers who love their sons take them to lunch from time to time."

Cowley looked at him. "Do they now?"

"So I've heard."

"Then I guess you'd better bring the car around so we can go to the club."

Doyle teased the pasta on his plate with his fork and tried to think of how to start this godawful conversation. 'Well, you see, Dad, I've been bisexual all my life, and I've just discovered heaven involves sticking my cock up Bodie's gorgeous arse.' No, he couldn't see his father taking that well. He sighed, wishing Cade had chosen a place a little less expensive as the charm and excellent cuisine of the little Italian cafe were utterly lost on him.

"I would have thought you were too old for me to have to say this," Cade cut into his thoughts, "but stop playing with your food."

Doyle managed a slight smile. "Sorry, Dad, guess I'm not very hungry."

Cade regarded him with green eyes that were so identical to the ones Doyle saw whenever he looked in a mirror it seemed impossible for them not to see and know everything Doyle felt. "The last time you acted like this was when you told me you were quitting the Met to join Cowley's merry band. This better news or worse?"

" bout the same."

"Oh, God," Cade groaned rather theatrically, then he reached out and touched his son's hand. "You know I can't stand the very thought of CI5."

Doyle nodded having been treated frequently and at length to Cade's opinions on an organization with a by-any-means-necessary brief. And he'd always been able to see his father's point. CI5 could be a bastion of abuse with only the morality and honor of the man who headed it to keep the men and women who served him on the side of the angels. From time to time, Doyle had even had his doubts about Cowley, but events had always proved -- if not to his liking -- groundless for any suspicions of wrong doing. "Cowley's a good man."

"Yes, I suppose he is," Cade admitted. "And that's a hard thing for a man to admit who has been fighting him since our early days."

Yes, the Cade-Cowley wars. They'd started way back when Cade was new to the Met and Cowley to MI5. Some said the reason Cade had opted never to seek a post as a Chief Constable and had stayed in London until the national CID came into being was to keep his eye on George Cowley. The flaming-liberal copper versus the do-anything-for-England operative. They were a good match, neither able to claim victory over the other for more than a day or so before the next conflict began.

Doyle had known all of this, yet he'd abandoned his career in the Met and joined Cowley's mob with few reservations. He shared his father's values, though his half-sister, Elena, was a far better heir to the Cade-the-crusader legacy. Yet, he knew Cowley was right as well. Sometimes you had to do whatever it took. And Doyle was very good at his job. "Always regretted how much it hurt you that I went to CI5."

"Hurt me?" Cade shook his head. "Not at all. Shocked me, yes. I hadn't seen it coming even though I knew how unhappy you were with the Drugs Squad. Forgot to tell you a few things once I got over that shock. Is two years later too late?"


"I don't approve of CI5, but I've always been proud my son was one of the few good enough to serve it. And I rest easier knowing a man of your integrity is considered one of Cowley's finest." The hand on Doyle's squeezed again. "So don't let my blowing off steam make you think I disapprove of you."

Doyle smiled weakly. " s good to hear, but I sort of wish you'd chosen a different day to tell me." He would have liked to savor the warm feeling created by his father's words. Instead he had to give him a new potential reason to disapprove of his son.

Cade gave him an assessing look. "Does this have anything to do with your work?"

"No ... yes."

"Well, that was definite. Work, but not work, I'd say this is about Bodie. Have you finally slept with him?"

Doyle didn't know whether to be dumbfounded or relieved. "How did you know that?"

Cade shrugged. "He's beautiful, and you sometimes chose to be that way inclined."

So he'd been right -- his father had sussed it. "How long have you known?"

"Since you were fifteen. Your mother called me in hysterics one night. She'd seen you having it off in the cellar with one of the neighborhood boys."

Johnny Cutler. Only his second time with a boy, and though he hadn't seen his mother, now he understood why she'd been strained with him most of that year. He also marveled she hadn't made a scene on the spot. "You convinced her not to confront me about it?"

"Wasn't much point in it. Neither the Doyle nor the Cade family trees can throw many stones in this case."

Another smile. "Few funny uncles locked in the ancestral closets?"

"Something like that."

Doyle shook his head. "Too many free thinkers in this family for our own good."

"You could be right." Cade was one of the few liberals prominently placed in law enforcement. He'd had not one, but two children out of wedlock, with two different women, neither of whom had believed in marriage. But while little sister Elena's mum had spirited her off to Canada and almost entirely out of Cade's life, Doyle's mother and Cade had shared equal responsibility for raising Ray. Definitely not one of the more conventional upbringings, and Doyle had run a little wild for a year or two in rebellion. Fortunately, his parents and his own common sense had sorted him out before things got too out of hand.

"Somehow, I thought my calm reception of your news might have increased your appetite," Cade finally said with a pointed look at the fork continuing to shove the food around Doyle's plate. "Why do I think that telling me wasn't really the problem of the day?"

"Sometimes it's bloody annoying having such a good detective for a father," Doyle muttered, then he sighed and set his fork down. "Bodie's in love with me."

"You're certain?"

He thought of the warmth radiating from those beautiful blue eyes this morning and answered, "Oh, yes. He's definitely in love."

"And you?"

Doyle shifted uncomfortably. And him? "I think ... I love him so much it terrifies me."

"Why? If he loves you, and you love him, why are you afraid?"

Why indeed. "I. ... I always thought I wanted a wife. Or at least kids."

Cade considered that, then said, "There were times when I felt like you and Elana were the only reason I had to get up in the morning. Always meant the world to me you were a part of my life, and always hurt she wasn't."

It was Doyle's turn to offer the comforting squeeze of a hand. "Turned out all right in the end, didn't it?"

Cade smiled. "Yes, but children are always a gamble. Are you certain it's one you really want to take?"

He shrugged. "Always thought so."

"All right, you might want children, but being in a committed relationship with another man doesn't mean you can't have them."

No, it didn't. He could adopt or find a woman who wanted kids, but no husband. Of course, he hadn't particularly fancied the two household system when he was growing up. Then again, there were no guarantees should he find a wife they would stay together. Given the divorce rate of CI5 operatives, it was more than likely any little Doyles would end up splitting their time between mum's and dad's flats.

"So you can have the children if you really want them," Cade went on. "That just leaves the wife. If Bodie loves you, I can't see him sticking around once you've married, so is some mythical wife worth losing Bodie?"

Doyle looked at him in horror. Lose Bodie? He couldn't imagine life without Bodie. He knew that much straight off. Bodie made him laugh, made him feel safe and loved. He let him have his temper tantrums and his moods, while gently coaxing him out of both. And he was so beautiful. Born to make love to, he was. "Nothing's more important than Bodie. Nothing."

"Then do you really have a problem?"

A great weight seemed to lift from his shoulders. "I guess not."

"Good. Can you tolerate one last piece of advice from the old man?"

He nodded.

"Tell him you love him and do it soon. You've said yourself many times how easily he's hurt. Don't leave him guessing."

There was a wistful, yet urgent air to his father that made Doyle think Cade might have left someone guessing for too long in the past. "I'll tell him tonight."

Cade smiled. "Then that's settled. Now eat your lunch."

Bodie sat with his father at one of the more secluded tables and took his time savoring a plate of poached salmon and rice. 'And the condemned ate a hearty meal.' He almost smiled at the thought, not able to resist considering how many of the men discussing their own secret bits of business at the other tables might want him hauled out of here and shot on the street. Did feel a touch surrounded by unfriendlies in this bastion of old military men, but he felt relatively certain no one would overhear his reason for dragging his father off to lunch. Then again, despite the fact he'd had ulterior motives in arranging this get together, it had been months since work had allowed him time alone with Cowley, so he chose to ignore the very large chance one of their cell phones might interrupt them and concentrated on enjoying both Cowley's company and an excellent meal.

It wasn't until the afters coffee was served he broached the subject. "Dad, you know that I love you, that I would never willingly hurt or embarrass you?"

Cowley's eyebrow lifted. "Well, I don't like the sound of that," he said, then summoned the waiter over. "I think you'd best bring us both a large scotch."

The efficiency of the club's staff was such the drinks were set before them in less than two minutes. Cowley took a sip. "Now, let's have it."

"Doyle and I. ..." Bodie found he couldn't look his father in the eye, so he studied the amber liquid in his glass instead. "I'm in love with him."

He heard a soft sound in another man he might have labeled an astonished gas p, but astonishment was not a state he associated with his father. "I'd hoped it wouldn't be a complete surprise," he admitted with a sigh.

He saw Cowley's glass lift off the table, then return a few moments later, the level of scotch considerably lower. "Not be a surprise? My God, son, the last man I'd ever have guessed would even allow another man to touch him would have been you. Yet here you sit and tell me you love Doyle."

Bodie understood his father's astonishment. At fourteen Bodie had been raped by some anonymous friend of his mother's while she'd watched with amusement. She'd hated Cowley and had kept his son's very existence from him. Bodie had run away from her and England, taking refuge on a ship. The first mate had become the boy's protector, but there had been a nightly price to pay for that protection. When the man had died, Bodie'd jumped ship in Africa, where another protector with a similar price and a more dangerous manner had found him. He'd been with Krivas for two years when Cowley'd learned of him, located him, then had dealt permanently with Krivas and brought his son back to England. A year's worth of psychiatric bills had followed that would have left any father certain another man held no attraction to his son.

"He's not another man; he's Ray." Christ, that sounded daft, but it was true. "I love him."

The glass lifted, this time returning to the table empty. "And Doyle? How does he feel?"

Miserable, Bodie had to admit, "I can't tell." In anything else, Bodie would have known his partner's mind, but not this time. Not when Ray didn't want him to know. "All I know is he doesn't want to pack it in yet."

There was a silence, then Cowley said, "I'll not have you hurt, Bodie. Not by anyone. Especially not by the man I charged with the duty of keeping you safe."

Bodie did look up then and did not see an angry man, but a distressed one. "It's too late to help me. I didn't see it coming, and it was too late the minute it happened. All I can do is give him time and hope."

There were many things Cowley could do to Doyle. Ruining his career was the least of it, so Bodie held his breath as he waited for his father's response. "What do you want me to do?" it finally came, and Bodie knew that anything he asked for would be granted.

It was an almost terrifying moment of absolute power, but he managed to find his voice. "First, I need to know you still love me."

Cowley looked at him as if he were daft, then took his hand. "Of, course I still love you, ye damned fool."

"Then I want you to forgive Ray if he never manages the trick of loving me, too."

Cowley didn't look pleased with the request. Not at all. But he said, "All right, Bodie. You have my word."

After lunch Doyle found his partner in the rest room. Along with Lucas, McCabe, Susan, Jax and Stuart, so Doyle had to settle for a questioning glance Bodie answered with a faint smile and a nod. Doyle then returned both to signify he too had spoken with his father on the matter and that it had gone well.

That was the last 'private' exchange they had for the rest of the afternoon. They briefed their team, got everyone into place in and around the derelict warehouse well before the drug deal was scheduled to go down, then sprang the trap at just the right moment. Was almost poetry as far as Doyle was concerned when an op went so well.

One of the little weasels they caught in their net even did them the favour of talking. Very informative he was, and they all set out to make another round of arrests. More interrogations and the obligatory after-op celebration at the Red Lion Bar took them well into the night. Everyone else headed home, but having some fairly lascivious plans for his partner's body, Doyle suggested they get their reports done before leaving so they could take their time about getting in the next day.

Bodie saw the sense of the plan, and they set to work, finishing up a few minutes short of midnight. "Best drop these in the old man's in basket or he'll be bellowing for them before Betty can get them under his nose tomorrow morning," Doyle said, holding up his own report.

"And then we? ..."

"Go back to my place," he said quite firmly, not wanting there to be the slightest doubt on the subject.

Bodie rewarded him with a beautiful smile. "Sounds good to me, sunshine."

Doyle shamelessly groped Bodie's bum and felt a twinge of regret there was some talking to do before he had his way with him again. But only a twinge. Bodie deserved soft words after a day spent in doubt. "Come on, let's get out of here."

They went to Cowley's office, pushed the door open, then Doyle felt his eyes widen as he took in the scene around and on the chaise lounge even as his brain utterly rejected it. The makings of two elegantly cut, but reasonably priced suits lay scattered about the room, while their owners lay naked on the soft leather, entwined in one another's arms. "Dad?" Doyle squeaked.

Bodie laughed. "So sorry to have interrupted, carry on what you were doing," the miserable berk said, grabbing Doyle by the collar and hauling him out of the room. He didn't stop their retreat until he'd got them both back to the office they shared.

Doyle jerked free, sputtering, while Bodie, still failing to grasp the magnitude of the situation, collapsed to the floor, laughing so hard tears were streaming down his face.

"Bodie --" Having had enough of this, Doyle grabbed hold of Bodie's poloneck and hauled the pillock into a kiss to shut him up.

Worked a treat. The laughter stopped and Bodie started responding. Doyle hardened his heart and pulled away from him. "In case it missed your attention, you dumb crud, we just walked in on our fathers having it off!"

Bodie smirked. "Feel just like a naughty school boy walking in on mum and dad."

"It's not funny!"

"Of course, it's funny. It's bloody hysterical, mate. Here we were getting ourselves into a twist over telling them we've gone gay for each other while all along those two randy old toads have been having it off themselves!"

That was incomprehensible to Doyle. He'd seen his father with far too many beautiful women for this to even begin to make sense. "You don't think this was the first time?"

Bodie shook his head. "Noticed the old bastard's been doing a lot of smiling for the last six weeks. Figure it started up then."

"But --?"

"Come on, Ray, what's the problem? If you can fuck me, why can't your old man fuck mine?"

Now there was a mental picture Doyle didn't fancy. "Don't be bloody ridiculous. My dad's got a history of monogamous relationships -- heterosexual ones."

"'s also got a history of being bloody lonely and miserable. Can say the same of mine. Should be happy they found somebody to love."

Doyle had to admit Bodie did have a point. Still ... "But with Cowley? Man's not exactly a sex symbol."

Bodie fixed a glare on him. "My father's a man to make love to. Luckier than I am in that matter."

That pulled Doyle's attention back to his own love life. "Oh, no, he's not," he said, cupping Bodie's face with his hands, then kissing the pouting mouth. "I'm in love with you, Bodie. And if I have anything to say about it, we'll spend the rest of our lives loving each other."

Bodie smiled, his eyes very bright and very blue. "I love you, too."

They kissed again, then Doyle felt Bodie's hands on the buttons of his shirt. "What are you doing?" he muttered against his lover's lips.

"Getting you out of your clothes so you can love me proper."


"What's good enough for the Cow, is good enough for his calf."

Doyle couldn't argue with the logic, so he quickly got Bodie and himself stripped off, then set about driving the lad mad with licks and kisses. Concentrating on his lover's pleasure, he wasn't quite far gone enough to miss the sound of the door opening.

He glanced toward it to see his father standing there, his clothes in disarray and his face a mask of worry. 'A few funny uncles in the ancestral closet, eh?' Seemed this bent acorn hadn't fallen far from the tree. Doyle would give him a hard time later, but now he had better things to do and signaled to his father it would be all right by giving him a wink and a smile. Then he turned his attention back to the beautiful man laying beneath him and vaguely noted the sound of Cade tripping the lock as he closed the door.

Cade stared at the door for a few heartbeats, then shook his head in bemusement and headed back to his lover's office. Lover? God, how he envied Bodie. Cade knew his son well enough to know Bodie no longer had reason to doubt how Doyle felt about him. Cade's own doubts on the matter spanned several weeks.

He told himself he was being a fool. His son had obviously decided not to get into a state over the situation. Coupled with the fact Cowley had not opted to end their own affair after that first incredible night, he knew he had little to complain about. Still he couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness.

He loved George Cowley. He'd known that after their first kiss. He remembered wanting to laugh at the shear joy of it. And did every time he saw the man. Just as a part of him mourned that he didn't know if he meant as much to Cowley as George meant to him.

He sighed, stopping before Cowley's office door to collect himself. They continued to fight, their world views unchanged and often at odds, but the nights they could give one another where full of gentle companionship and a passion that set Cade's pulse racing to even think of it. Should be enough, he told himself. Had to be enough.

He took a deep breath, then walked into the office, taking care to trip the lock to this door as well. Cowley had also pulled on his slacks and shirt in the first fluster of being caught, but while Cade had gone after the boys, Cowley had seen fit to pour two generous glasses of scotch.

Cade took his gratefully and drank deeply from it. They'd been lucky it had been their sons who had walked in on them. He shook his head. Late at night, no one about, they'd let themselves get carried away without thought to the unlocked door. Stupid. But at least he had the excuse of being besotted. He couldn't help but wonder about Cowley's explanation.

"How did it go?" Cowley asked.

"Ray was busy seducing Bodie, so I suspect neither was too traumatized."

To his surprise, Cowley frowned. "I'm not too pleased with that relationship, Alan. As hard a man as Bodie is in some ways, he's equally soft in others."

Ah, a father worried about his son's vulnerability. Cade could well understand. "No need to worry, George. Ray told me this afternoon he loved Bodie."

"You're certain of that?"

"Yes. Not surprising is it? Bodie's an easy man to love. He has that in common with his father." Cade's eyes widened. He had not meant to say that. "I'm sorry. I. ..."

Cowley's eyebrow rose, silencing him. "I'm not a man for declarations, Alan, but I've never been one to indulge in casual relationships, either."

"So I've always thought."

"But you need to hear it?"

"Only if it's true."

Pale blue eyes filled with fond of exasperation. "I love you, Alan. I'm sorry that I haven't said it sooner, but I thought you knew."

Cade went into his arms, wanting to feel the warmth of George's body pressed against his. "I always hoped, but some things need to be said to erase all doubt. I love you, George. Seems like I've loved you all of my life." Cowley kissed him, then guided him back toward the settee and unfinished business, while Cade's heart sang for joy. Tomorrow had indeed taken care of itself.

-- THE END --

Originally published in Nowhere to Hide, Get-the-Boys-Together Press, 1998.

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