Disclaimer: The Professionals and all characters/concepts are the property of Mark 1 productions and Brian Clemens. I am just borrowing them.
Rating: PG-13
Warning: While I mainly write gen, this fanfic is slash. It contains references to and descriptions of homosexual relationships. Please do not read if you feel you may be offended.
Summary: What Bodie wants and what he can have are two very different things…
Jailbait
By NorthernStar
Soul…
Hot sun beat through the windscreen. The Capri felt like an oven, even with all the windows open. Bodie felt a trickle of sweat down his temple. Bloody English summers… Hotter than the Congo sometimes and no where near as beautiful.
His discomfort wasn't helped by what he was seeing, bearing witness too… Being forced to watch and want and need and know he couldn't have…
Outside the car, across the street, Doyle stood with a blonde girl. His back was to Bodie, allowing him full view of his rounded backside. The diamond embroidery on the back pockets of his jeans catching his eye, drawing them down to look. The girl had her hand resting just above the curve, while Doyle's leg was forward just a shade, enough to sit between the girl's thighs without looking too obscene.
The girl burst into giggles, pressed her face into Ray's chest a moment before looking up at her lover. She tousled his curls and looked as if she was telling him off soundly. He kissed her to shut her up.
Bodie watched as the pair became thoroughly involved in each other. His mouth turned dry as a slim hand stole between their tightly pressed bodies and moved up and down. He couldn't see the caress but knew it was there almost as if he were doing it himself, rubbing gently over the tight bundle in Doyle's jeans. Ray's kisses intensified for a moment and Bodie caught a flash of moist tongue. Then he pulled back and waggled a finger at her, the flush in his cheeks telling as much as the bulge in his jeans. She didn't look the least bit sorry.
Bodie twisted in his seat, thankful of the daily newspaper covering his lap. He went back to trying to read it before Doyle could turn and see him watching. The paper felt dry between his sweaty fingers, crackling in the silence. His clothes felt tight and restrictive, the polo neck he was wearing was gripping his skin like a noose. Stupid to wear it on a day like today… stupid for not saying 'no' earlier, to Ray's request for ten minutes with Jess…
His frown deepened. It was just another lapse in judgement where Doyle was concerned. He'd been stupid for ever letting Ray Doyle into his life and by consequence, his heart.
Bodie could not say when it had happened. What day, what hour, what little thing it was that had made him realise his love for his partner was more than just friendship. It had just snuck up on him gradually, his defences all down in his ignorance, until it was too late and he caught himself staring a little too lingeringly on his friends' backside as if he had an inalienable right to do so.
And it wasn't like he hadn't had fair warning. Bodie was aware, if not entirely comfortable with, of his own sexuality. Both sides of it… He enjoyed either side of that 'street' but knew which pavement he had to travel on if he wanted to be in CI5. Cutting off that part of himself had been hard, sometimes even painful, but he done it and never looked back. He still had his thoughts and his hand and his girls…
He actually thought that would be enough…
Doyle was a good mate, and a bloody good partner. They sniped and fought and laughed together. At times he'd wondered about Ray, what sex between them would feel like, but it was idle thoughts, nothing more. Then his hands had crept in on the act, casually touching his friend. Hair, arm, back, arse…whatever was within easy reach at the time.
He got to like it far too much.
And then it had started to hurt. He hadn't expected that; how much he ached inside when he saw a woman touch his friend in a way he never could, when he saw the softness in Ray's eyes that would never, could never, be directed at him.
He hurt when Ray hurt. And he always dealt with pain by using anger. There didn't seem to be a day when he wasn't angry. Channelled aggression wasn't so bad in his line of work and in an odd sort of way, it gave him an edge.
He looked up from the paper, forcing the thought away. Across the street, Jess was touching Doyle's face, fingers tracing his lips. Bodie watched. He remembered the feel of Doyle's lips from long ago, when he'd held a hankie to his friends bleeding jaw. Soft and plump beneath his thumb…
Jess's hand stole along Doyle's jaw up to the damaged cheekbone. At the moment of contact, Ray flinched visibly, pulling a little back. The sudden tension in his body nothing to do with arousal.
Bodie's breath caught in his throat. He knew that Ray was sensitive about the disfigurement, which wasn't all that bad as scars go. But then, it wasn't the look of it that Ray hated. It had taken a hell of a lot of fine scotch to get the story out of him and it still made Bodie sick to this day. To Ray it was a constant reminder of what happened, every time he looked in the mirror. For Bodie, it was a reminder of why he could never let Ray know he loved him.
Doyle recovered himself in a second and caught the girl's fingers. He kissed them to reassure her. She smiled, still looking a little unsure. But the moment had been broken and Bodie knew his torture was about to end.
Sure enough, Doyle stepped back, gave the girl a quick peck on the cheek and headed back to the car.
Bodie looked up from his paper as Doyle plonked into the driving seat. Despite the tension of a moment ago, he now had a smug grin. And why should one pretend well, when two could pretend better?
Bodie looked bored. "High maintenance, mate."
Doyle frowned. "She wanted to see me." He replied. "Get a fix. 'Sides, Macklin'll have us so knackered by the weekend; I won't be able to get up."
"Speak for yourself." Bodie folded the Daily Mirror. "I'm not letting that bastard ruin my sex life."
"Out of bed, you moron."
Bodie nodded to the blonde haired girl on the pavement, waiting to watch the car drive off. "Next thing you know, she'll have you buying roses."
Doyle started the engine. "She's got a mate…"
"Yeah?"
"Not half bad, either…"
"Yeah...?"
And somewhere in there, Bodie made a decision.
It was time again…
***
The V.I.P lounge at CI5 headquarters was deserted at this time of night. Bodie made his way to the small kitchenette at the back to make two cups of strong coffee. Doyle was sprawled across the sofa with a large pile of files in his lap. Running through the bones of the Darvey case was tedious and in his opinion pointless, but Cowley had insisted. Lessons could be learned, he said. As if Bodie and Doyle would ever make such stupid mistakes.
And it didn't matter how many times they examined the case files, the conclusion was the same. There were no lessons, no procedures that needed to be put into place. Jake Darvey had just been a fool. He'd been sloppy enough to expose his family and stupid enough not to go to Cowley when they were kidnapped. CI5 security had been compromised, good agents lives put at risk, but at the end of the day, Darvey had paid the highest price. Not just expulsion from the Squad, but in the resulting crossfire of the final siege, Darvey's youngest son had taken a bullet to his spine.
The kid would never walk again.
"Bloody waste of time…" Bodie grumbled as he stirred the coffees.
"Yeah, well the Cow doesn't like being wrong, does he?" Doyle replied. "Darvey was his little blue eyed boy."
Bodie handed him a coffee. "You think that'd be us, amount we do for him."
"Yeah." Doyle sipped his drink. "You put much in the pot?"
Bodie glanced at the glass jar stuffed full of notes by the phone. The Darvey kids' wheelchair fund. "Fifty."
"Yeah. Me too." And then Doyle fell into silence. He brooded for a long moment. "Why didn't he come to us?"
"Because he was stupid bastard." Bodie flicked at the wad of papers beside him. "Reading it over and over isn't going to change that."
Doyle got up, paced back and forth. Jake had been a good mate of his and, as daft as Bodie thought it was, he blamed himself for Darvey not trusting him enough to come to him for help. Bodie watched the movement of Doyle's body, tense as a coiled spring. The narrow hips seemed to beg to be touched, held beneath his hands. His gut twisted; Ray would be physically sick if he knew. Too many memories there.
Bodie forced himself to look down at his drink. "Darvey deserves everything he got, mate."
Doyle snapped around. "And Ryan? Did he deserve what he got too?"
He refused to dignify that with an answer. Doyle knew that wasn't what he meant. Typical Ray, always firing from the gut; it would get him into real trouble one of these days. "In this game you play by the rules, our rules. If you're compromised, you go to Cowley." Bodie's tone was harsh. "Darvey didn't. I don't like it. You don't like it. But it's his bloody fault and I'm not blaming myself."
Doyle pushed a hand into his curly hair, angry at himself and just about everyone else on the planet. "I'm going to call it a night."
Bodie watched his friend for a moment, and then sighed. "Coming for a quick half?"
"Nah, got to get home."
"C'mon, Ray…"
"No, I'll see you tomorrow."
The door shut behind him and the lounge was suddenly silent. Bodie could hear the tick of the clock. He picked up a transcript of Darvey's interview. Words leaped out at him, stared at him almost accusingly.
"Bloody stupid risk. You're lucky Ryan isn't dead!"
"Had to, didn't I? Only stupid if you're caught…"
If you're caught…
He had an itch…deep inside, under the skin. Clawing at his innards; it wouldn't be denied. It had worsened over the day. Always drawn towards Doyle at the best of times, he had been doomed from the moment he saw the guilt and worry on Doyle's face and felt something pull inside him. Sexuality Bodie might have been able to deal with, but not Doyle's pain. Not today anyway with its beauty…Jess coaxing softness from Ray. And its ugliness…Jess touching his face and his flinch back, caught by memory… It had stirred the deeper instinct in Bodie.
And then Ray's frustration of a moment ago… the instinct tugged and ached…
If you're caught…
Bodie put the files into order and returned them to the secretary. She cast a longing look in his direction, but he found it only annoyed him. Grating on nerves already strung tight by the deep seated ache inside him. Leaving the building, he headed for the public phone across the street. The inside of the red telephone box stank of piss as usual. He stared at the phone for a long while. He needed this… It was life and nature and old, old instinct. There was no pacifying it.
Bodie dialled the number and waited.
"I need you…" He said when he heard the line picked up.
***
…And Body.
"'S been a while…"
Bodie pushed the door open and walked into the flat, ignoring the greeting. "Got a drink?"
The rail thin man followed him into the flat. "Thought you might bring me one." He said; voice as soft as brushed cotton. "Courtesy and all that."
Bodie sank into the sofa. "Yeah, right." He looked up at the young man, appraising him. Tomas Derry had cut his hair in the months since Bodie had seen him last. It didn't suit him. "How's business?"
"Booming." Derry poured a couple of drinks. "Heat does funny things to people. Gets 'em hot." Something dark flickered in his eyes. He held out a drink to Bodie. "Pays the rent quicker."
Bodie took the offered glass and swallowed the contents in one gulp. The brandy bit all the way down to his stomach. Tossing down the empty glass, he looked at his friend. "How've y' been?"
"Not bad." He shrugged. "Not good, but not bad."
Bodie sat forward, knowing how long a year was in Tom's line of work. "Could've called me, you know. If things got tough…"
"Lend me some money, Bodie?" Bitterness filled his voice. "Or were you thinkin' of throwing a couple of punters my way?"
"Tom…"
"Havin' me a mercy fuck then? Pay me over the odds so I don't think its charity?" He refilled his own glass and knocked that back too. "Might not think it, but I do have some pride."
"Look, I didn't come here for this."
Eyes met his. Brown in place of the green he desired. Beggars can't be choosers. "What did you come here for?"
Bodie moved forward. Tom stayed absolutely still until Bodie covered his mouth with his own. The kiss was deep and hard, full of need and frustration. Then it was over. Bodie wrenched his head away and lay back.
Tom studied him, no bitterness in his eyes now. There was something like compassion there instead. "You hate it, don't you?"
Bodie's head came up, anger in his eyes. He had pride too. He would not be pitied. "No more than you do!"
"I have to do this. No choice. One way or another. I have to." Derry sat down next to him. "So do you…one way or another…"
Bodie felt the anger drain away. He closed his eyes, head going back to rest against the arm of the chair. Hands unsnapped his belt and he lifted his hips, allowing access. His need burned inside him and he groaned when felt moist lips take him. The hair beneath his hands was too coarse and now too short to fuel the image in his mind. No fantasies this time. Only need and satiation.
The feelings looped in the background, physical responses to stimulus, little more. Growing strongly in his emptied mind. His consciousness fragmented and he found an image of Ray conjured without effort, or indeed without any willing desire to do so.
The image tainted the sensations, a replay of this morning. His fantasy did nothing but touch Jess...
And Jess touched Ray… His flinch…
Words whispered in the back of his mind and he was back in Ray's old flat in Chelsea. Rain lashed the window pane, wind howled. And in its midst, a drunken confession that would be bitterly regretted in the cold light of day…
"Don't ask."
"Already did, sunshine."
Beer swallowed back, something ugly in his eyes. "Pretty sick."
"Unshockable, me."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah…"
Long pause, more swallows. Good beer, German. "Was 23…Got pissed, got the shit kicked out of me…Next thing I know some bastard's sticking it to me…"
Silence, not understanding.
"Up me bleeding arse, mate." A shudder. Haunted eyes. "And I do mean bleeding…"
God help him… this would never be over.
Then the pleasure crested and there was nothing but the moment.
***
Price…
Quiet and the soft in-and-out sound of Tom's breathing. Bodie let the tension melt from him, almost heady now with his release. Thoughts of Doyle slipped from the forefront of his mind, carried away in his…contentment? Not contentment; absence of crushing, aching need. That was placed back behind the doors of Bodie's consciousness. Still there, always there, but calmer now, manageable. Tomorrow would be liveable, if not by much.
A crash sounded by the door. And in the distance police sirens wailed.
Bodie looked up.
If you're caught…
Maybe tomorrow wouldn't be liveable after all…
~~Finis~~