"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me."

"Jesus Christ, will you take a look at that!"

"Bodie, look!"

Bodie took one last swig out of his beer-can and turned round to see what the fuss was about. Last CI5 party? Lucas had turned up dressed as a chicken. This year…

"Oh my…"

"Is that Ray Doyle in fucking lace or--"

Bodie choked on his beer.

His partner, Raymond Doyle, was standing in the doorway wearing nothing but lace panties and a cocky smile.

Yes, cock-y. Bodie had a clear view of the jewels. So did the rest of the Squad. Bodie dropped the can, went for him, and bodily dragged Doyle out of the room to general whistling and cheers.

"You're drunk," he accused when they were alone, Doyle leaning against the wall, Bodie's hands on his shoulders, steadying him.

"Hmm? Stop swaying, Bodie…"

"You are!"

"S'pose so. S'nice."

"Just because you're getting engaged tomorrow doesn't mean you should act like an arse!"

"Arse?" Doyle blinked. "Got a nice arse…"

Bodie snorted. "True enough. Where did you get 'em anyway?"

"Eh?"

He nodded at Doyle's crotch, horrified that his gaze lingered. "The panties, Ray," he snapped. "Don't tell me you bought 'em."

"Nah…"

"Well?"

"Well… what?"

Groaning, Bodie slipped off his leather jacket and draped it around Doyle's shoulders, leading him down the corridor. "Christ. Don't know why I bother. Where are your jeans, Ray?"

"Hmm?"

"Your jeans. Where did you leave 'em, mate?"

"Dunno…"

"Locker-room?"

Doyle shrugged.

In the end, Bodie had to lend him the spare pair of trousers that he kept in his own locker. He didn't have a belt, though, so the black trousers hung terribly low on Doyle's hips. Bodie was horrified that his gaze lingered. Again.

"Come on, let's go home," he muttered, grabbing Doyle's elbow.

"I don't want to go 'ome."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you- oh fuck it. Just move your arse, Raymond."

"Got a nice-"

"Yeah, yeah, just move it, okay?" He led him down the dimly lit staircase, party music echoing in the distance.

"Bodie?" Doyle said suddenly and stopped.

With a sigh, Bodie turned to face him. "What now?"

Doyle was apparently staring at a cupboard. Bodie grimaced.

"We look good," Doyle said abruptly.

"Eh?"

"Look for yourself."

Bodie did. Saw the cupboard had a glass show-case and that their reflections stared back at them. One the dishevelled skinny sod of his partner in a jacket and trousers too big for him, the other his own handsome self.

"We look good," Doyle said again, softly this time. "Together."

Bodie's breath caught. "Come on, Ray."

"Home?"

"Home."

Doyle grinned back at him and Bodie feared, for one awful second, that Doyle wasn't really that drunk and that he'd seen the expression on Bodie's face. But Doyle didn't say anything. Bodie relaxed again, though the confusion inside him was making him ill. What was wrong with him? He should be happy, celebrating even. After all, his best mate was getting engaged tomorrow.

Wasn't he?

-- THE END --

May 2006