The Professionals Circuit Archive - Bugged	   Bugged

 

by Lorelei

  
 Chalk fiddled with the dials and frowned. 

"What's wrong, Chalk?"

"This one doesn't want to come in. I keep getting snow!" Another tiny
adjustment, and a picture and sound appeared. "There it is!"

******

"Bodie, you *can't* be serious."

"Look, I checked it over with the lads down in surveillance, and it's no
make *they've* ever seen, so I brought it down to this old mate of mine,
right? And that's what he said."

"But, Bodie, the whole thing's insane! You can't tell me you still believe
in Father Christmas!"

Bodie glared at him from his position on the floor and brandished the
(squished) shiny red-and-green bug. "Well, what do you call *this*, then?
Or the others?" Doyle opened his mouth to answer, closed it again, huffed,
shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, and searched for an
explanation, which completely failed to come to him. Bodie smirked
triumphantly and resumed crawling about the floor, examining the
undersides of the furniture, in search of a device to match those he'd
destroyed in the other rooms.

Doyle tried another tactic, posing dramatically in the doorway in an
effort to distract his partner. If you couldn't beat them, try to get them
to give up. Which, unfortunately, only worked if they were looking at you.
And while Doyle himself had a rather interesting rear view, Bodie had his
head under the bed, and couldn't see him at all. Doyle gave up with a
sigh.

"Look, Bodie..." Doyle moved out of the way as Bodie shifted to the
dresser. "What's the point? I mean, if it *is* really Father Christmas,
what's it matter if he sees you?"

Bodie glared at him briefly, and resumed his search. "All I know is, I'm
not having some bloody great elf watching everything I do! Christ, mate,
isn't Cowley bad enough?"

Doyle had to admit, he had a point. Except... "If it is really Father
Christmas, don't you think he'll find some other place to spy on you? I
mean, you can't..." Bodie shifted to the wardrobe. "You can't just go
around looking for bugs everywhere you go!"

"Yeah, well it'll be enough for me if I just.. ouch!.. get them out of
*here*! Nobody's bugging me in my own flat!"

"*Our* own flat, you mean."

"*Our* own flat. Which is the whole point!"

"Huh?" Somehow, he'd missed something there. 

Bodie paused on his way out of the wardrobe, and gave Doyle a deceptively
sweet look. "There *are* some things the old man doesn't need to know,
aren't there?" The look turned downright lecherous. "Besides, I'm planning
to be naughty with you later. Wouldn't want to muck up my chances of a
pressie, now would I?"

"Your chances of that, mate, are long past. Let's start last Boxing Day,
shall we?" 

Bodie grinned and headed for the window, running his hands around the
frame. "Was nice, wasn't it?" He paused. "Hang about, if it was nice, it
can't be naughty, can it? Sure to be okay with him. *Still* don't like the
nosy bugger looking in, though."

"Fair enough. You really don't care for him, do you? When's the last time
you got pressies from him, then?"

"Dunno. Haven't been good in a very long time." He stopped, both hands on
the top of the window frame. "Got it!" Triumphantly, he brought down the
last little brightly-coloured device and threw it to the ground, moving
closer to Doyle as he stepped on it. "Still, must be doing something
right. Got you, didn't I?"

******

<scrunch>

The screen went black.

-- THE END --

*Carait ocus morait Bodie ocus Doyle a n-ergarthe-se; run inso! (Heh. [:)*

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