The Professionals Circuit Archive - Teeth of the Problem	 Teeth of
the Problem

 

by Shay Sheridan

  
 "Oi, you're not still mad at me, are you?"

There was no answer, not so much as a single vile curse word, which in
itself was worrying; it presaged violence to come. "Come on. You can't
be!"

The seething presence turned a feral eye and glared. "Oh, *can't* I?"

Bodie flinched despite himself, and would have taken a step away from his
partner...but for their current circumstances. He forced a jovial
expression. "Come on, sunshine, have a heart. I didn't do it on purpose."
A derisive snort ensued. "Do you think I *planned* this?"

"I would not," Ray said icily, "Put it past you."

"What? Here now -- I didn't plan it, and I damn well didn't tell you to
stand so close when we were...done."

"Oh, didn't you?" Ray was quivering with exasperation; to Bodie it looked
like every hair on his head was dancing to its own staccato rhythm.
Fascinating. "Stop bloody staring at me!" Ray exploded, noticing Bodie's
rapt attention.

"Well, it's not as if I can stop looking at you, can I?" He laced his
voice with sarcasm, which did not go unnoticed.

"Dammit, Bodie! You're the one who's always standing closer to me than me
own shadow, and now you've gone too far. I've been zipping meself since I
was old enough to stand up to pee, and you have to go and put your hand
in, literally, and--" 

"I'll tell you one last time, Ray. It's. Not. My. Fault. The. Zipper's.
Stuck!" 

"Yeah, not your fault, is it? Never your fault. Like the time we nearly
got caught doing it on Cowley's desk, that was your idea too, remember? Or
when you thought we should have a snog on that warehouse roof and it
caved--"

"And if you didn't wear your trousers tight as a coat of paint, they'd zip
up normal-like, wouldn't they? Just because I *happened* to try to give
you a hand getting them up--"

"Like you gave me a hand getting *it* up, you mean?"

Bodie paused. Was that the beginning of a crinkle at the corner of Doyle's
eyes? "Yeah, well, that's safer, evidently." He risked a leer. "And more
fun."

"So it is." Ray sighed, and Bodie cheered up immeasurably. Clearly the
storm was over. "So," Ray said, "What in hell are we going to do about...
*this*?"

Bodie looked down to where the fabric of his pants was caught in Doyle's
zipper, welding their groins together. "I don't know, Ray, but 'snice,
innit? Come on; admit it."

"Well," Ray said, "Maybe just a little." He rocked forward a bit, and
Bodie felt warm flesh through the several layers of denim. "Maybe more
than a little."

"Why, it's not that little, Ray," Bodie said smugly. "Don't be modest."

"I'll give you little," Doyle said darkly, "Except I bloody *can't*, can
I, because you broke the bloody zipper!"

-- THE END --

*July 26, 2004*

**NOTE:* This was written in response to Justacat's request for a story
featuring the line, "It's not my fault the zipper's stuck." Apologies for
the Americanism.*

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