The Professionals Circuit Archive - Hearing the Angels Sing	   
Hearing the Angels Sing

 

by Josey 

 
 "Heard the one about the belly-dancing nun and the jockey?"

 Doyle cast a suspicious glance at his partner. "You that bored?" He knew
he was. The house they were watching had remained obstinately dark and
silent for past the four hours. And knowing their luck it'd be the same in
another four.

 "With your scintillating company? Never." Bodie's grin was bullet-fast,
no more than a glint of white teeth against the night.

 "Go on then."

 "Go on what?"

 "The nun and the jockey."

 "Ah, but not any old nun, Lester. A 'belly-dancing' nun." Bodie
enunciated belly-dancing carefully, his smile this time wider and more
devilish. In this type of mood it was as if a candle had been lit behind
his eyes. They burned with an internal--and sometimes infernal--fire.

 *Irish eyes*, Doyle thought in passing. How did those lyrics go?

 *When Irish eyes are smiling, all the world seems bright and gay.*

 Yeah. That much was right on the nail. Not that he was in a hurry to say
that out loud. Oh, he could just see that. Hey, Bodie-mate, that song,
about Irish-eyes, you'll never guess who it reminds me of.... Nah. He
could live without the fall-out from that sort of confession.

 "Irish eyes."

 Doyle blinked, returned to the chill of the Capri and realised he'd been
humming under his breath. "What?"

 "What you were busy butchering." Inhaling deeply, Bodie broke into a
passable tenor:

 *"When Irish hearts are happy, 
 All the world seems bright and gay. 
 And when Irish eyes are smiling, 
 Sure, they steal your heart away."*

 He stopped, his expression a little wistful. "My Mum used to sing that
when I was a little'un. She had a lovely voice." Another pause and now the
eyes turned cool, the grey of a snow-filled sky. Ice that locked Bodie's
secrets away more effectively than any reliquary.

 But in no more than a heartbeat, the glow was back, joined by the little
boy grin and hands rubbing together in glee. "So this nun--"

 "A 'belly-dancing' nun," Doyle interjected pointedly.

 "This 'belly-dancing' nun walks into a stable...."

 Doyle leaned back in his seat, hardly bothering to listen to the joke. It
wasn't needed. The specifics never were. He had all that was important,
anyway. His life revolved around the man beside him and so long as Bodie's
heart was happy and his eyes smiled, then Doyle's world was bright and
gay. It was no hardship--his own heart had been stolen away years ago.

 -- THE END --

 *March 2006*

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