The Professionals Circuit Archive - Be My Valentine	    Be My
Valentine

 

by Gwyneth Rhys

  
 "Bloody fake holidays," Bodie muttered as he sidestepped a florist moving
a cartload of roses into a flower shop. Bodie glowered at the man and
moved deftly around him on graceful cat's feet. He'd been forced to park
nearly at the end of the street. He hated this neighborhood, nowhere to
park the bloody car and no garage or carpark with this flat, no sir. And
every day he had to pass this damn flower shop and the poofs who ran it.

It was even worse this time of year. Valentine's Day. Just thinking about
it brought a scowl of displeasure to his normally smooth, calm features,
the brows knitting darkly together. Bodie generally hated holidays,
anyway, but at least he could swallow Christmas and things of that nature.
They represented something real. But bloody Valentine's Day... well, it
really was bloody, wasn't it? Named for some geezer who got his hands cut
off.

And what did they do? Name a romantic holiday after him. And create a
million-pound industry around it, just to sell greeting cards, chocolates,
expensive dinners out, and... bloody roses. No, make that fucking roses.

Reaching his doorstep, Bodie promised himself that he would go nowhere
near that damn shop, a restaurant, or a stationer's tomorrow. No, today
was bad enough, but tomorrow would be worse. The Day. If he could stay
home and get away with it, he would, but there was that little matter of
the Ahmad surveillance to deal with. Following an Arab diplomat with
poorly-chosen connections around London on the most romantically congested
day of the year. No skiving tomorrow, then.

He opened the door and went into the foyer of his ground floor flat,
treading on something that gave way underfoot.

"What the-" he snarled as he picked up his foot. He saw the shining pink
tinfoil and the squashed chocolate crumbling out of the rip in the side.
Bending down to pick it up, he quickly looked around to see if anyone was
the obvious provider of this little treat. Shame to waste perfectly good
chocolate. Still, never knew where it came from, so best not to eat it.

At least he didn't have a girlfriend at the moment. Hadn't had more than a
few one-night stands since Louise had got annoyed by his schedule, and
made tracks. He genuinely missed her at times, but it was good to be alone
this time of year. Didn't have to buy anyone any sodding flowers, did he?
So who could have left this, if not Louise?

He closed the door and went inside, staring at the chocolate in his hand.
Pink. Bloody Valentine's Day.




Ray Doyle watched Bodie from a safe distance, more careful in his tailing
of his partner than he usually was.

He'd hoped for some kind of reaction over the chocolate heart, but deep
inside knew it wasn't likely. Bodie was famous for his hatred of all
things holiday. It had taken Doyle years to get him to appreciate
Christmas, after all. But maybe, maybe there was hope for Valentine's Day.

Watching Bodie from afar was becoming too much of a habit. It seemed like
lately he spent a lot of time gazing at Bodie's window, the one that faced
out on the street. Following Bodie home when Doyle had pretended to have a
date. Almost every night it seemed, at least for the last two months. Just
spending the evening, or working on a long assignment with him, didn't
seem to be enough anymore. Doyle sighed to him self. But how do you tell
someone you love them when they can't bear the thought?

It was silly, he knew, to give Bodie the Valentine's pressies. He'd drive
Bodie mad with annoyance, and then lose any nerve to tell him why he'd
bought the damn things. Still and all, he'd felt compelled by his romantic
streak, thinking that he could use the day to his own advantage. All it
ever took to bring on those feelings was a look at Bodie's thick dark
lashes, so impossibly long, lying on the creamy skin, or the way he moved
his lips in a pout of disbelief -- ducklips, Ray had taken to teasing him
with-and it would conjure up such a ridiculous sweep of feelings in him.
Ray wanted to do little things for him all the time. But that wasn't
allowed, not in Bodie's walled-up world.

His partner had gradually become the center of Doyle's universe. Doyle had
even let Janice go. She knew something was up, had sussed that long ago,
but she hung on like many women seemed to, hoping for a change. Thought it
was someone else. Well, it was, wasn't it? Only not who she'd suspect.

He sighed and pulled the collar of his coat up against his neck and
wrapped the football scarf even tighter, then stuffed his hands in his
pockets and walked away. 




Bodie woke in the freezing morning and rushed to turn the heat on. Another
reason to hate February. He shivered toward the shower and enjoyed his
long stay there.

Stepping out into the freezing morning, he pulled his black leather jacket
more tightly around him, striding deliberately towards his car. He
resolutely stayed on the opposite side of the street, away from the flower
shop.

Even from a few feet away, he could see there was something on the wind
screen of his car. It would never be a ticket, he thought, becoming more
peeved. He walked up the car and snatched the offending item off. Red. Not
a ticket. No, a card. Bloody hell.

Bodie stared dumbly at the card, finally ripping open the envelope to peer
inside. He gingerly pulled out the card as if it were a bomb. It was a
simple affair with only a red heart drawn in a very modern style and the
words inside, "Love has no secrets. Be My Valentine." It was signed, "From
An Admirer," in block letters.

Scowling, he tucked the card back in the envelope and opened the car. It
was freezing out and he wanted to get warm as soon as possible. This was
really too much. First a chocolate heart, now this. It had to be a joke.
*No secrets, my arse.* Who were the most likely suspects? It would have to
be someone who knew how much this type of forced, merchandised holiday
bothered him. Murphy. Murphy knew. And Anson, the little prick. Both of
them were always trying to goad him. They were just trying to see how far
he'd go before he was off his nut. Seemed like everyone enjoyed watching
that except Doyle. Or Cowley. They had learned the hard way how poorly he
took practical jokes.

The drive to work was spent in anger, a frown line taking residence in his
forehead. Doyle had once told him that when he hung his head like that and
frowned, he looked decidedly ape-like. Of course, Bodie had made him
suffer for that. But deep inside, he knew it to be true. So he
straightened up as he came into headquarters, pulling back his shoulders
and smartening his attitude. Time enough to deal with these idiots.

He marched down the long hall and found Anson sitting, useless as usual,
in the rest room, just beginning to bring his tea to his mouth. Bodie
snapped the card sideways like a frisbee at Anson's face, hitting him with
the corner of it right in the soft skin between upper lip and nose.

"Ow!" Anson shouted, covering his lower face with his hand.

"Hah, hah. Well, the game's up," Bodie said, glowering above him.

Anson put his mug down and picked up the card while complaining, "What the
hell is the matter with you, Bodie? Jesus!" He rubbed at his face again
for good measure, just to make sure everyone knew he was hurting.

Other faces turned to look at the two.

Anson looked up at his antagonist. "So? It's a Valentine's Day card. Who
gives a toss?" He frowned.

Bodie shook his head. "Oh, no, not just a Valentine's card. A choccie
heart on my threshold last night, too. I know how very much many of you
enjoy annoying me, but really, isn't this a bit childish? What's next?"

Anson smiled somewhat while putting the card back into the large bottom
pocket of Bodie's black leather jacket. "Love to take credit for it,
Bodie, but not my doing, old son." He picked up a small cigar and lit it,
puffing smoke in Bodie's face. The scowl that met him as the smoke cleared
was meant to evoke a fearful response and it seemed to work. Anson threw
his hands up and said, "Swear, Bodie, not me. Good trick, though. Have to
remember that, if a bloody card gets that kind of response."

Doyle appeared at Bodie's elbow and Bodie flicked his attention to him out
of the corner of his eye. "What's up?" his partner asked.

"Nothing," Bodie groused, and walked out the door, Doyle on his heels.

"What'd Anson do?"

Bodie did not answer again and he could hear Doyle letting out an
exasperated sigh.

Bodie was heading to the carpark when Doyle tugged on his sleeve. "Oi,
hold up. Been a change in plans."

Bodie turned to him and was momentarily taken aback. Doyle was wearing
something practical for the weather for a change and it was... nice. A
black poloneck that accentuated his face and emerald eyes, and that long
dark top coat he'd been wearing lately. And tight, dark grey cords. The
boots, not the trainers. Bodie blinked.

This was becoming a problem, he realized. There were times when he found
himself recognizing things about Doyle that a man shouldn't notice about
another man -- the way Doyle's lips curved so perfectly, the grace of his
long thin fingers, things like that. It was... upsetting, to say the
least. Now he was having trouble finding something to say. Ray looked,
well, luscious. Amazing that the man wasn't beating the birds off with a
cricket bat.

"What... what change in plans?" Bodie asked, finally finding his voice.

"Ahmad. No surveillance." Doyle was looking at him with that look again,
Bodie realized. That same dewy-eyed look that he'd been seeing on his
partner's face more and more lately. "What do you mean?"

"He's in the nick! Southampton Row. Got himself caught with his pants
down, from what I hear. With a, um, underage youth." Doyle smiled, the
black poloneck emphasizing the blinding whiteness of his chip-toothed
smile.

"Youth? You mean...."

"Yeah, a comely lad. Anyway, turned out to be the wrong time to visit that
little house of ill-repute, which according to Lucas has been a frequent
stop on the night shift, and now the local coppers have him. Which has
turned out to be very interesting. He was carrying about two grams of
cocaine. Not a very good Muslim, our friend." Doyle smiled again.

Bodie looked hard at him. This whole appearance was new. Doyle had lately
begun smoothing his hair back, the curls less wild and untamed than
before. He'd been sort of... neatening up. But this. If it weren't for the
cheekbone he'd look like some movie sex idol, Bodie thought. He finally
took his attention away from Doyle's mouth and looked at the eyes.

"So now what? Oh, don't tell me," he said wearily, holding his hands up,
palms toward Doyle. He nodded his head slightly a half-dozen times.
"Reports, I know." He shrugged his shoulders and muttered to himself as he
walked toward the desks. He hated typing up reports, hated the damn
computers. Hated the little calf-fattening pens where they did the mundane
paperwork Cowley demanded of them, all the while maintaining that an agent
was no good if he weren't in the field.

Doyle was on his heels again. Unnerving him with his presence. There was
something decidedly -- sexual, yes that was it -- about Doyle. At times
Bodie couldn't help but be aware of it: The way he draped himself over
things; the way he leaned, hip out, against anything he could prop himself
up on; the way he wore such tight jeans, low-cut t-shirts. It was like he
knew. Knew women would respond, and men. Had to know he was beautiful. All
those pheromones.

Bodie saw his desk, their desk really. A dozen roses stood in a large
crystal vase. He snapped to a halt and Doyle crashed into him; for a
second Bodie forgot about the roses. Doyle was pressed up against his
backside and a slight tingling thrill ran through his groin and lower
abdomen. Doyle moved away instantly. Bodie felt a frisson of
disappointment.

He inched forward, almost expecting the roses to explode into lethal gas.
There was a card. He plucked it from amongst the stems and opened it.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Bodie. With love." That was all. No name, of
course.

Well, Murphy had really gone all out this time, Bodie thought angrily.
Spent a great deal of cash trying to get him this time, hadn't he?

"Where the hell is Murphy?" Bodie growled. "I will have him disemboweled
for this."

"Murphy is out of town, 3.7," Cowley said from behind him.

Bodie whirled. "Out of town?" he asked meekly.

"Yes," Cowley said, dragging out the word because he seemed to be amused
by Bodie's annoyance. "Perhaps he sent you the roses, but he'd have to
have had an accomplice for the chocolate heart last night and the card
today, wouldn't he?"

Bodie looked helplessly at him. Cowley always heard everything, didn't he?
Bodie thought sometimes the whole place was bugged and all Cowley did was
sit in his office all day and listen to them.

"I need your reports on Ahmad. While he's cooling his heels courtesy of
HMG, I want to get all our surveillance activities documented. Then we can
deport him with the information. By noon, gentlemen," he said, waving his
glasses in their direction as he walked away. Then he turned back to them
one more time. "Oh, and Bodie, Happy Valentine's Day," he said, a small
quirk of a smile hinted at on the craggy features. Then he was gone.

Bodie exhaled deeply. "Everyone's a comedian."

Doyle looked at him with what Bodie would have sworn was sadness. "Well,
today anyway. Have you ever thought that if you weren't such a grouse
about things, people wouldn't feel a need to tease you? It's not much
different than wearing your heart on your sleeve. People see it and
attack, like pack dogs."

Bodie grabbed the phone and called the front desk. "Fred? Bodie. Who
delivered the roses for me?"

"Just a regular florist's delivery."

"Okay. Thanks," he said and hung up. "Just a regular delivery. No name,"
Bodie said, but Doyle wasn't paying attention.

They sat down at the desk and began pulling papers out of drawers. Bodie
looked over at him, noticing the way the poloneck hugged the bold curve of
biceps as Doyle shrugged out of his coat. Bodie pulled his lips tightly
together in a line and bit the inside of his lower lip. He could feel his
heart beating erratically in his chest. Things were getting strange since
Doyle's shooting, even though it had been a while ago. It was intensifying
everything they did together. Making him painfully conscious of how...
needy... he was of Ray. Embarrassed to be thinking such maudlin thoughts,
Bodie quickly looked away at the computer. He made a breathy sound.

"Well, if it's not Murph or bloody Anson, then who is it? Everyone learned
long ago to stay well away from me except those idiots. Unless...." *Well,
aren't I the clever lad then,* he thought suddenly to himself. *Of
course.*

"It's a bird."

"What?" Doyle asked distractedly as he flipped through the pages of notes
they'd taken on who Ahmad had been seeing the past few weeks. Almost every
known money launderer in London, that's who, they both had complained when
they began following him.

"Louise. She wants me back." He picked up the phone again. "Louise," he
purred. "Bodie. The roses are lovely, pet--"

He suddenly pulled the receiver away from his ear and winced. A steady
stream of harsh invective poured out from the earpiece. Finally, when it
stopped, Bodie placed the phone against his ear, still grimacing. "Louise,
I--" Then he blinked and looked at the phone. She'd hung up.

Bodie went back to working without saying a word to Doyle, who sat
impassively across from him, eyes calmly watching Bodie's forced
nonchalance.

"She'll call before the end of the day."

"In your dreams," Doyle said, his eyes moving to the computer.

They worked in silence for a time before Suzy stopped by the desk. "Well,"
she said, admiring the roses. Bodie blushed furiously at the attention.
This was exactly why he hated this sort of thing. Attention.

She fingered the card and smiled at Bodie, taking off her glasses.
"Someone obviously loves *you*," she said, quietly and admiringly, before
moving off. Bodie felt the hot blood rush even more strongly to his
cheeks.

He glanced over at Doyle to see the huge green eyes fixed on him, looking
sadder than they'd ever looked. There was something arresting about his
eyes when they were like this, Bodie acknowledged to himself. It was that
same dewy-eyed look again that he'd been seeing so much of. God, it bugged
him. That he couldn't figure out where it was coming from bothered him
even more.

Doyle suddenly launched himself up from the desk. "Gotta piss," he said
unceremoniously and left, the tight grey cords accentuating the fold and
bunch of muscle where thigh met hip. Bodie shook his head. This was a bad
day, and that's why he was paying so much attention to his partner.
Wouldn't do, this. Get back to work. 




Doyle inched up against the cool tile wall of the men's toilet, his face
pressed sideways against it, relishing the chill it put in his bad
cheekbone. He'd felt hot and flushed back there with Bodie.

His partner had been so proud of himself for suddenly realizing it wasn't
a practical joke being perpetrated on him. That had been Bodie's first
thought -- that the whole thing had been based on aggravation. Only after
that line of inquiry didn't pan out did he consider it was someone trying
to say romantic things to him. *I never expected him to automatically
assume the worst,* Doyle thought ruefully.

Well, he'd known it wasn't a good idea from the start, hadn't he? Break
the ice with silly presents, and use the disorientation Bodie would no
doubt have, since he hated Valentine's so much, to spring on him the fact
that his partner was in love with him? Hah!

*When will I ever learn*, Doyle thought disgustedly. It did him no good to
fall in love with anyone, and to be so stupid as to develop this need,
this desire for Bodie was really the end of the line.

And what had *he* been doing lately? Acting like a teenage girl, that's
what. Dressing differently to catch his companion's attention, dating less
and less in order to be available for Bodie if he wanted male company,
staring at him and following him when Bodie didn't know it. Pretty soon
he'd be writing Bodie's name over and over on a scratch pad.

There were so many facets to Bodie's personality that only Doyle knew.
There was no one single Bodie-instead he was a mixture of things, silly
and deadly serious, a bit thick sometimes and then again too clever by
half, dangerously temperamental but gentle and caring. He could move from
calm and laughing to being a killer in half a heartbeat, and as far as
Doyle knew, no one could fathom these things in Bodie besides himself. Not
even the puppet master who controlled their strings, George Cowley.

*I wonder if Cowley ever thought pairing us could result in one of us
falling hopelessly in love with the other,* Doyle wondered. Cowley had
been clear that he knew the two would work through their initial distrust
to become an excellent working team. Well, they'd done that and more.
Doyle had begun to see Bodie as more and more integral to his whole
happiness.

How easy it had been when Ann had rejected him to be with Bodie, to forget
her through Bodie's ministrations. Had it begun that night? Doyle couldn't
remember, but it seemed like it. Or maybe he'd always loved him. Didn't
matter.

Bodie couldn't feel the same way. He hadn't even thought any of the
pressies could be from someone who loved him. Didn't want to think that.
Instead Bodie'd been ashamed. Ashamed of having it pointed out to him that
someone loved him. As if the roses signified the worst punishment anyone
could inflict on him.

Did Bodie proudly say, "You're right, someone does love me?" Or even,
"Yeah, lucky me"? No, he blushed with furious humiliation, disgusted by
the idea that someone had done this disgraceful thing to him. Anyone else
would be touched by the thought, would be proud that even if they didn't
know their admirer, they had one. But Bodie had been ashamed.

*How foolish I've been,* Doyle thought. To think that Bodie would be
eagerly awaiting the discovery of his suitor. Now there would be no way to
tell Bodie his feelings. At least this kind of disgust in Bodie made it
easier to quit his feelings for the man. More of this and anyone would
pack it in. 




Bodie had finished his typing by the time Doyle arrived back at the desk.
He looked up at his partner as he slid into the opposite chair.

"'bout time, I was going to send out the Mounties."

Doyle stared snarkily back at him and mouthed, "Hah." He began typing.

"Me, I'm finished. Just proofread this a bit and then send it to be
printed. On George Cowley's desk before the clock strikes twelve." He
looked at his watch. "Hey, we could get lunch. Try that pub we've been
meaning to hit since forever." One of the definite perks of working in
CI5. If your case disappeared you often got an unexpected free afternoon
off. The prospect appealed tremendously to him, in light of the way the
day had been going.

"Just a few more minutes," Doyle said quietly. "Why don't you go work your
magnetic charms on Alicia down in the computer room to get these printed
in priority, and she can take 'em to the Cow?"

Bodie looked at Doyle. It was that voice, that soft, low voice. Something
was bothering Ray. Well, hadn't he and Janice broken up recently? They'd
been at it awhile.

His mind suddenly filled with an image. The four of them, he and Doyle,
Janice and Louise, drunkenly weaving back to Doyle's flat. Undressing
hurriedly, the evening's bawdy conversation having got him incredibly hot.
Watching Doyle practically hurl Janice down on his bed, which Bodie could
see from his vantage point on the sofa, as Doyle had indiscreetly
forgotten to close the door. Doyle's firm, round bum as he climbed on the
bed, lowering himself to Janice, a hint of the erect cock, just barely.
The way Janice's legs wrapped around Doyle's slim hips, her hands
stretched across the wide shoulders that were so incongruous in the slim
body. And worst of all, the way Doyle's arse moved as he thrust slowly and
sensuously into Janice. Bodie had been mirroring the movements
unconsciously as he watched Doyle go at it; his orgasm had come faster and
harder than he'd remembered since he was a teenager.

"Well?" Doyle snapped at him, and he suddenly came back to the room.

"Oh, yeah, will do that, just a moment." He clicked a few keys and pressed
the send key, then got up. "Meet you in the carpark in fifteen?"

"Yeah, okay," Doyle said, his mind obviously in other places, face leaning
forward toward the screen. Bodie walked away and threw a glance backward.
No, leave the roses. Why encourage the person? he thought. 




Doyle walked nonchalantly toward the carpark and was then stricken by the
thought: *Bloody hell! The chocolates!*

He sprinted down the hall and out the door, into the garage, only to see
Bodie leaning in the driver's side. Too late. He slowed to an amble and
came up quietly behind Bodie.

Bodie turned to Doyle and looked at him with his patented left-eyebrow
cocked, corner-of-mouth-turned-down skeptical look. He held up a box of
chocolates and waggled it at Doyle. "It's never going to end, is it?"

He tossed them disinterestedly in the back seat, then plopped himself into
the car. "Lunch? I'm in the mood for a ploughman's," he said, rubbing his
hands together.

Doyle nodded and got into the car. He'd never known Bodie to act
disinterested about chocolate. He glanced backwards at the box. Bodie
caught the look.

"Never mind. I'll deal with it later," he said, peeling out of the drive.
Doyle glanced out the window. If he could have got the chocolates back it
would have been better. Pretty soon Bodie'd twig to the fact that it was
actually someone in CI5 who was leaving the pressies, and not being helped
by an accomplice *within* CI5. And now it was too late to get the
champagne back from Bodie's flat that he'd put there right after Bodie
left this morning. What had started out as a game of annoyance and
courage-building was slowly turning into humiliation.

Doyle looked over at his partner, studied the defined profile and the
tightly-cropped dark hair that Doyle dreamt of running his hands over. The
strong heavy hands that Doyle dreamt of having on his bare skin. The
heavily muscled shoulders and arms that Doyle dreamt of having wrapped
around him. And the heavy hips that Doyle dreamt of feeling against his
own, that obviously huge bulge in Bodie's tight trousers rubbing up
against Doyle's own cock. He closed his eyes.

Well, this wouldn't do. *Cut it out, Doyle. You're too practical to live
like this.* He was hopelessly caught in Bodie's web of charm and he knew
there wasn't any thing he could do to change it. It had probably been
better when he disliked the man, back at the beginning. Bodie was
armor-plated, had the strongest walls of anyone he'd known. No breaching
those. Best to forget it all. 




Bodie threw keys on the table and shuffled through the day's post. "Never
anything interesting," he said, flopping down on the sofa. "Ahhh, de-mob
happy, that's me. Love it when we get out of work."

"Well, actually, I think I'm going to go," Doyle said in distracted tones.
"Oh, I forgot. My car's back at work. Oh well, take the tube," he said,
heading toward the door.

Bodie followed him to the door. "What, don't want to watch the game? Spurs
tonight," he said cheerfully. "We could get a takeaway...." He followed
Doyle's eyes, which were looking to his left and behind.

"What are you loo--" then he saw it. "Oh for Christ's sake!" he barked,
stomping over to the kitchen table. He picked up the bottle.

"Huh! Cristal. Someone certainly has laid out the pounds for this little
escapade, haven't they," he said, without a trace of humor. "Wait a
minute! How did this get in here?" Fog was lifting. His face smoothed out.

"Oh, hoh, hoh," he said darkly. "Well now, the car was one thing, but I
guess the pool is really limited. They've given themselves away, haven't
they? I knew it! Has to be someone in CI5! Not just helping someone out,
either." He laughed without any enjoyment.

Doyle opened the door and waved a hand. "I'll leave you to it," he said,
disappearing out the door. Bodie watched him go. Maybe Ray seemed so sad
because it was Valentine's and Janice was gone, and Doyle hadn't replaced
her yet. Couldn't believe it was that he loved Janice, there'd never been
any sign of it. But who ever knew with Doyle.

His partner was as mysterious to Bodie as most women were. Emotional, yet
distant, very serious, yet childlike in his joy of life. His artistic
streak lent him an almost fragile air, Bodie sometimes thought. Wanted to
take care of him, you did. But Doyle did not ever need taking care of, was
plenty capable of that himself. Most people thought of Bodie as the heavy
mug of the two, but Bodie alone knew that Doyle had beat him repeatedly in
martial arts contests, could certainly outshoot him. The only thing he
couldn't do was outrun him. For all Bodie knew of Ray, he didn't really
know anything. There were huge gaps in Doyle's past he knew nothing about,
things that popped up from time to time in dangerous ways, usually from
his days as a copper.

Bodie thought back to the image he'd had earlier that day when he was
remembering that evening with Louise and Janice. Doyle naked. *Jesus!*
Bodie chastised himself. *Cut it out!*

He looked at the champagne again. Suzy... yeah, that was it. Why else
would she have so pointedly made that remark about someone loving him? Of
course it was her. How could he have not seen it? Ever since the Wakeman
case, she'd been getting closer to him, more friendly-like. Hah!

He picked up the phone and dialed her number. A man answered.

"Uh, may I speak with Susan, please?" Bodie asked sheepishly.

She came on the line with an annoyed tone.

"It's Bodie. I, uh, was wondering, if you knew -- dammit! Are you the
one?"

"The one what, Bodie?" she asked crossly.

There was a muffled sound on the other phone that sounded... moist. "The
one who's giving me the Valentine's presents. There was champagne here
when I got home this afternoon, and no one could get past the security
without the code. Has to be someone in CI5 and I thought...."

''You thought it would be some lovesick female falling at your feet."
Another brief interruption; he distinctly heard kissing. "Bodie, in case
you haven't noticed, I've had a boyfriend for the past year and a half,
who I am quite content with." Her tone changed abruptly. "You are so thick
sometimes it's a wonder Mr. Cowley keeps you on. Think about it, Bodie. I
said someone loves you very much. Who cares about you that much? In CI5?
Now I have to go." She hung up without fanfare and Bodie stared at the
phone as it buzzed chastisingly at him.

He looked over the holiday's booty- champagne, chocolates, the card, the
heart from last night. Well, it wasn't Betty, and it wasn't Ruth-she could
barely tolerate him-and it most certainly wasn't Sally, who was only in
love with the job. He looked at the chocolates more closely. They were
mostly chocolate-covered cherries. Someone obviously knew his likes and
dislikes, his chocolate predilection. But he wasn't particularly fond of
chocolate-covered cherries.

No, that was Doyle who liked--

Oh.

My.

God! Bodie thought, light suddenly flooding through the tunnel. Doyle was
leaving these presents. But why? Just to annoy--

*"Someone obviously loves you."*

The dewy looks. The sadness. The distance. The way Ray had started
dressing. No new girlfriends in months upon months.

He sat down on the sofa, hard enough to jar his teeth together. Ray was in
love? With him? He laughed, almost a giggle. His hand clenched the
chocolate box. No, he said to himself, shaking his head. That was too
ridiculous to even think. But there it was. It hadn't been a joke or a
provocation at all. It had been--what? A declaration of love? Bodie shook
his head, eyes closed. Couldn't be. Not his Ray. Not a sentimental bone in
that perfect body.

There were whole depths in Ray's character he'd never fathomed. Perhaps he
was gay, or at least bisexual. Perhaps he was just... well, it wouldn't be
the first time a man had got a thing for Bodie. He'd always politely
declined when he'd been propositioned before -- not so politely when he'd
been a merc -- yet he'd never been totally offended, either. But Ray?

Bodie sat for some time, drinking this all in. It was almost too much to
handle. He didn't know whether to be flattered or offended.

It was just getting on suppertime; Ray might go out for something. He
threw on his jacket and bolted out the door. 




Something had lit a fire under his partner. Ray watched Bodie dart into
the car and speed away, probably chasing down his latest lead on the day's
events. Doyle hunched the coat closer to him as the temperature dropped
and darkness descended. He walked to the tube station and caught the
train. When he walked toward his flat he fumbled for his keys, and looked
up just in time to see Bodie coming down the street.

Doyle ducked sideways and hid by a car, caught in the shadow of a lorry
parked opposite. Bodie had not seen him.

So he had sussed it. And it was too late. Probably now all that was left
was to have a dust-up over it, land a few punches on Doyle in order to
restore Bodie's manhood, and demand a new partner, not some queer who'd
fall in love with his own mate. The humiliation of making such a huge
mistake was overwhelming, and his stomach twisted in knots. He wiped a
hand across his eyes and breathed a ragged sigh.

Bodie had been ringing Doyle's buzzer to no avail, and he turned to walk
back to the car. Just then Bodie stopped dead and stared right at Doyle.
*Shit! He's seen me.*

Doyle turned quickly on his heel and began fast-walking away. Bodie
trotted after him. "Doyle!" he called.

Doyle tried to walk faster, but he could feel Bodie behind him. Damn! If
only he had his car.

"Ray!" Bodie called, finally sprinting to catch up. Doyle felt a heavy
hand on his shoulder and he was wheeled abruptly about.

Doyle knew his face was filled with pain, but he couldn't stop it. He held
his arms out wide, palms up. "I'm sorry, Bodie," he said, his voice
cracking on the name. "It seemed like a good idea at the time, a lark."

Bodie was breathing heavily. He sucked in a deep breath. Doyle knew then
he had suddenly become a stranger to Bodie.

"When did this happen... along the way? How-" Bodie was obviously not
buying the joke excuse. Unfortunately Ray had run out of ideas.

He gave a half-chagrined smile and said, "I dunno, Bodie. I'm sorry. I'm
really sorry. I was a berk and let's just leave it at that." He bolted for
his flat, leaving Bodie behind, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

He'd just reached his door and was tremblingly trying to put his key in
the lock when Bodie reached him. *Never could outrun the fella,* Doyle
thought. He pushed the door open and quickly tried to snap it shut on
Bodie, but Bodie used his greater bulk to push back against it. They
struggled this way for some time before Doyle finally gave up and let go,
which caused the door to whoosh open. Bodie came flying in, crashing
head-first against the wall and the coat hooks there, ending up on the
floor, box of chocolates still in hand.

He shook his head a few times, then gazed up at Doyle. Doyle looked at him
in surprised concern as Bodie slumped on the floor and the chocolates
spilled out of one big hand. 




The room had suddenly gone white, was the last thing he remembered. Now he
looked up and saw Doyle's cat-eyes staring back at him. A cold flannel lay
across his forehead and he was Iying on the sofa.

"Sorry," was all he could think to say. Doyle moved the flannel and
replaced it with another, colder one.

"No need to be sorry," Ray said, his voice soft and gentle.

Bodie closed his eyes again; he felt a little nauseous. "What happened?"

"You took a header into the wall. Got a nice big lump there now." He
pointed at the top of Bodie's forehead as Bodie opened his eyes.

Doyle's eyes were roaming over him. "Let's have a little butcher's here,
see if we missed anything," Doyle said as he prodded and examined Bodie's
head. "No, think that's it. You were out for only a minute or so."

Bodie started chuckling, which soon turned into a full-fledged laugh.

"Share the joke, sunshine," Doyle said crossly.

"It's just, well, how do I explain this to the Cow?" More laughter. "I
mean, sorry, sir, I can't come to work today, got knocked out last night
chasing after Doyle and fighting with him for the door." He laughed some
more.

Doyle stared impassively at him. "Sorry. Should have just let the door
open anyway. Had to deal with it eventually." He closed his eyes, his
cheeks flushing red.

Bodie had always considered himself a risk-taker. Someone who followed the
smoke to the fire. Why change now?

He put his hand up to Doyle's face, and Ray's eyes opened in shock as
though he'd been hit. He recoiled, but Bodie moved his hand quickly to the
back of Doyle's head and held on.

"Someone loves me very much. That's what Suzy said." He moved fingers
through Doyle's thick satin hair.

"Bodie... don't do this. It's not funny." Ray's voice was thick and heavy.

"I know. It's not. I don't have a clue what I'm doing. But... Ray, d'you
really feel that way?"

Doyle closed his eyes slowly. "Yes," he said, as though he'd used up every
bit of strength to say it.

Bodie brought his hand round to the side of Ray's head, his fingers lacing
through the hair above Doyle's ear and his thumb moving in slow circles
over his perfect cheekbone. "I always wanted someone to love me. I admit I
never expected it to be a fella. But if there's one person on earth who
knows me, it's you. And if you feel that way...."

"But *you* don't, Bodie," Ray said, eyes still closed. His head arched
into Bodie's hand a bit; Bodie knew it was probably a sublime torture but
he couldn't help it. Growing strangely aroused at Doyle's catlike
movements, he pulled Ray closer from where he sat perched on the edge of
the sofa.

"Maybe not now." Bodie moved his hand forward some more, his thumb
stroking Doyle's voluptuous lips. The same lips that had been so
intriguing to him of late. How to tell Doyle that, though? "Change my
mind."

Ray shook his head, a very sad look on his face. "No, Bodie, it doesn't
work like that." He took Bodie's hand and clasped it in his, placing it
back on Bodie's stomach.

"Why not?" It came out in a whisper. He grabbed at Ray's escaping fingers,
held them tight.

"Because you're only doing this to make me feel better, and believe me,
however much a treat you think that's going to work, it won't. I can't
ever feel better, especially knowing you'd go through with
something--anything--just to make me feel better. The worst thing in the
world would be your pity."

"What if I told you... I'm curious? What if I told you that I'd been
thinking about you a lot lately? Catching myself thinking about that night
with Janice and Louise--"

"What about that night?"

"I could see you fucking her because you'd left the door open. I was
mesmerized by you, by the way you moved. By your body."

"Christ." Doyle closed his eyes again. Bodie couldn't tell if it was pain
or relief. Doyle was so hard to read sometimes.

"What if I told you..." he took Doyle's hand and placed it on his
excruciatingly tight trousers, on top of his throbbing cock. Doyle jumped.
Then he sat still, hand where Bodie had placed it.

"I wondered what it would be like to be under you like that. Not for long,
I pushed the thoughts out of my mind. But now I'm wondering again."

He challenged Doyle with sapphire eyes.

Ray leant down and softly, slowly brought his lips to Bodie's, closing
them over Bodie's mouth gently, then more hungrily. Bodie accepted the
kiss, delving into it himself, his tongue dancing over Doyle's. He tried
to sit up a bit to get more pressure behind his lips as he brought himself
to Ray. The flannel slipped down his face and Ray pulled away, chuckling.
Doyle tossed the flannel on the floor and looked sadly at Bodie.

"Enough?"

Bodie sighed. "No. Not enough."

He grabbed Ray hard and pulled his face to him, devouring Doyle's mouth
with his own. Doyle's hands threaded long fingers through his tightly
cropped hair. Bodie shivered, finally letting Ray up for air. "D'you have
any experience with this? I'm assuming...."

"Only a little. I learned a long time ago that I'm sometimes attracted to
men, but I've only been with a few. Not very experienced. Seemed
dangerous, with the job and all. Which is stupid, I could be just as
easily blackmailed with a woman if she were from the wrong side, eh?"

"You talk too much," Bodie said, pulling Doyle on top of him. He moved his
strong hands over Doyle's body, pulling at the poloneck and finally
finding some skin. As he tried to tug it over Doyle's head, Ray was trying
to undo the buttons of Bodie's shirt. The two continued their roaming, in
between kisses, until they were down to their pants and nothing else.
Ray's hand clasped Bodie's aching cock, rubbing it through the thin
cotton, exerting what, to Bodie, seemed like very skilled pressure. Bodie
did the same to Doyle, who moaned above him, mouth panting against his
open mouth.

It all felt very unusual to Bodie. It wasn't because of the different
sensations of maleness, he thought, not the rough scratch of beard or flat
chest, but mostly the fact that he felt so different inside.

How many times had he touched Ray and not noticed the heat of his skin?
How many times had he ruffled his partner's hair and never knew what it
felt like to caress these luxurious curls? And how many times had he been
so close to Ray that they nearly breathed the same air, and not been aware
of the kind of shiver of excitement that was running through his body
right now?

*Oh,* he thought. *That's it. I've never cared for anyone this much. It's
always just been... for fun.* But he felt things for Ray that he'd never
felt for anyone.

Doyle straddled him, sliding the pants down his hips, doing a deft turn
and quickly moving one leg up, sliding the pants off completely. Bodie
felt a little daunted as he looked at Ray's erect cock standing up in
front of his face. He knew right now he was not ready for the thought of
that huge thing up his arse. No, first things first. He put his hand
around Ray's penis and moved his fingers gently over it. Ray gasped and
brought his body down closer against Bodie's. It was strangely compelling.
Silk-smooth, just like his in so many ways, but touching someone else's-it
changed everything. He liked how Doyle responded to each little movement.

After a moment of Bodie stroking him, Ray whispered into Bodie's skin,
nibbling the neck as well, "Let's just do something simple for now. I want
to make you happy." And his head disappeared downward, his lips kissing
soft kisses along Bodie's chest and belly. He slid Bodie's pants off with
gentle hands and then suddenly Bodie's rock-hard shaft was engulfed by
Doyle's mouth, and the world turned a thousand different colors.

Later, it took Doyle mere seconds of having Bodie's hands on his cock to
reach his own climax, and Bodie smiled smugly as Ray sank against his
body, his energy completely drained. They lay that way for some time,
Doyle breathing shallowly beside him, Bodie running hands up and down
Doyle's strong, finely muscled back.

He knew Ray was waiting for rejection, but Bodie would have to disappoint
those expectations tonight.

This was certainly not what *he'd* expected. At the most he thought he
might just talk things out with Ray, see how it went. Tell him that he
knew. Maybe even give him a hint that he might consider, well, looking
into this. In a bit. Slowly. Because he had been feeling those odd...
feelings. But this was more sudden, certainly.

"Valentine," he whispered into Ray's hair, suddenly filled with love.

"What?" Ray asked dreamily.

"My valentine," Bodie said a bit more loudly, chuckling. "Hey, where're
those chocolates?"

Doyle reached out to the table and without moving his head or opening his
eyes, grabbed the box. He opened the top and took one out, putting it in
Bodie's mouth. "Happy Valentine's Day," he said into Bodie's chest.

Bodie covered Doyle with his arms while he chewed happily. "Bloody fake
holidays," he said, swallowing. "Best one yet."

-- THE END --

*Originally published in *Nudge, Nudge, Wink, Wink 4*, Manacles Press,
1995.*

   Archive Home