Deborah was giggling as they stumbled out of the taxi. She skidded on the pavement, and Allie started to titter, both too merry to care, as she went to prop up her unsteady friend. They turned to wait, as their men for the evening, followed. The curly-haired one, who had cornered Allie, stepped out slowly, beaming from ear to ear for no particular reason. He got an arm round each of the girls, and yelled out to his partner.

"Come on, Bodie! We're getting cold out here, mate!" He pulled Debbie and Allie closer: he could think of somewhere he'd much rather be than waiting outside his colleague's flat at a quarter to twelve on a Friday night.

Bodie eased himself out of the cab, stood, and with more dignity than the others, straightened his jacket and tie before approaching them. He was grinning like a maniac, looking forward to his night of promised passion with Debbie. An evening out with Ray and his bird was a great way to start any weekend. He reclaimed his lady from a rather amorous Doyle, and opened his front door deftly with one hand.

"Ooh," cooed Debbie, lolling against him. "Can see you've done that before."

"In his case," Doyle put in his tuppence-worth as they bundled inside, "a lot of practice;"

"Can imagine," she giggled. "Anything else you feel like practising?" Debbie wound her arms around Bodie's neck and latched her mouth onto his. "That looks like a good idea," smirked Doyle, grabbing Allie and copying. Bodie ran out of breath and fought free.

"Come on, let's go upstairs," he suggested.

Debbie sniggered, and Doyle broke loose long enough to shush her. "Don't want to annoy Bodie's neighbours -- they won't let us do this again!"

"Rotten sods," huffed Allie, and she went back to making love to Doyle's ravaged mouth. Bodie caught Debbie's hand and led her up to his flat slowly. A moment later, Doyle was behind them, having to drag Allie most of the way to prevent her stopping so that she could kiss him on every step.

Once inside, Bodie was the perfect host, trawling off to the kitchen to make coffee. Allie let go Doyle's hand and made her way to the bathroom unsteadily. Doyle threw himself onto the sofa with finely calculated abandon, while Debbie sighed almost demurely into Bodie's armchair and smiled at him, considering him as a lover.

He had been boisterous all evening, and scathingly witty, teasing and teased in turn by his partner. Debbie thought about it: she and Allie usually sided together and played off against their men as a team. Differences in the sexes, she mused -- no, it's more than that. These two, Bodie and Doyle, are sure of themselves, they don't need that kind of mutual support, and they're so sure of each other they can afford to --

"You're very quiet over there," Doyle spoke softly, from his prone position on the settee.

Debbie opened her eyes to find him watching her, bright-eyed and curious. "Was just thinking," she smiled back at him.

"About Bodie," Doyle assumed. "Both of you, actually." There was a trace of frown.

"Having second thoughts?" He was trying to sound unconcerned, but Debbie heard the note of -- was he hurt, on Bodie's behalf?

"Oh no," she assured him. "Not at all."

Doyle visibly relaxed. "That's all right then," he murmured, and closed his eyes.

"You love him very much." The words were spoken before Debbie could think.

"What?" Doyle sat straight up and stared at her.

Debbie was about to apologise for what she'd said, but something compelled her to go on.

"You love him, don't you?"

"I -- "

Doyle was about to deny any such thing when he stopped. Well, he spent most of his working day with Bodie -- and they socialized a lot with one another, as now, on double dates, or just out drinking -- being together. If Doyle really THOUGHT about it, he had to admit he spent a hell of a lot of his time with Bodie, and mostly it was through CHOICE.

"I -- work with him. He's my best mate."

My closest friend. Share things with Bodie I wouldn't with any other living being. I -- like him, feel comfortable with him...

"Bet you hang around here a lot," Debbie guessed.

"Course not. I mean -- " There was always someone else, he told himself. Go drinking with Murph, football with Jax, even out chasing birds with Lucas and McCabe, but...not the same as being with Bodie... It was more...intimate with his partner... Doyle squirmed.

"I'm sorry. I've made you feel uncomfortable. I shouldn't have said anything." She sighed. "Just ignore me. I've had a bit too much to drink." She stood up. "Actually, I could use the loo..."

Debbie wandered off in Allie's wake, and Doyle got off the sofa, a little shakily. Love Bodie? No way! FOND of him, of course...you didn't work sixteen and eighteen hour days with a man if you weren't -- but LOVE...that was something he'd never considered... That bloody coffee was a long time coming...

Doyle found himself lounging in Bodie's kitchen doorway. His partner was hunting through the cupboards quietly, efficiently. Doyle watched, looking with new eyes as the same old friend. Yeah, same dark hair, same pale skin, and grey eyes that scanned the shelves; same body -- tall, muscular, clad tonight in black, making him more mysterious, more sinister -- strangely thrilling...

"Bodie?"

"Looking for the sugar. I'm out, I think. Damn! Have to make do with -- "

"I want to tell you something. Stop a minute, will you?"

Bodie obediently closed the last door of his top unit and then the kettle claimed his attention.

"What? Talk to me while I make this up. Are the girls all right in there?"

"I love you, Bodie."

"Huh?" Bodie was busy pouring boiling water into the mugs he'd lined up on the side, and was stirring the contents quickly.

"I love you," Doyle repeated it a little louder.

"WHAT?" Bodie spun round, startled.

"I know. Shocked me, too. 'Maybe I shouldn'tve told you -- look, you don't have to say ANYthing..."

"You're drunk," Bodie accused, well aware of precisely how much his partner HADN'T had that evening.

"No," Doyle shook his head, "just seeing things a little differently. It's true, you know. I do love you."

Bodie swallowed nervously. This wasn't quite how he imagined his weekend... "I know. I've ballsed it up. I've upset you again -- always doing that -- Doyle was almost speaking to himself, " -- but I had to let you know, and I didn't think I'd ever have the chance to say it again."

"You ARE drunk."

Bodie desperately wanted to believe that: if he didn't he might just respond to that declaration, and then God only knew where they would end up... Bodie had slept with other men before, had had sex with them, but since his days in the Army, he had been strictly heterosexual, the one man he wanted out of his reach... Society and civilisation, in his opinion, had a lot of drawbacks.

Doyle was still standing in the kitchen, wide-eyed and disbelieving: Bodie handed him a couple of mugs of coffee.

"You know, if we'd been born in another age, in China or Japan, we could've been kissing," Bodie told him conversationally.

It was Doyle's turn to look shell-shocked.

"Wha -- kiss --?"

"The girls are waiting for their coffee, Ray," Bodie continued smoothly, his heart pounding like a trip-hammer. He picked up the other two mugs, and followed his partner into the lounge. Debbie was just emerging from the bathroom.

Allie was dozing on the sofa.

"Think we'll push off, soon as we've had our coffee," decided Doyle, who was feeling distinctly uncomfortable, and not a little foolish. "Allie looks as if she needs reviving."

Debbie smiled at him as she accepted her drink, and sank back into the armchair. Doyle went to sit beside Allie, gently shaking her awake, and helping her to sit up.

Bodie remained standing, sipping the steaming liquid slowly.

Doyle kept his attention on the girls, his coffee-cup, refusing to meet Bodie's eyes. Debbie maintained a patter of conversation, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the room. She looked across at Allie.

"Think they'll need another taxi," she suggested to Bodie.

He put down his mug, squeezed onto the end of the settee, and reached for the phone, hoping that Doyle hadn't noticed how nervous he was. Allie was waking slowly, and leaned heavily against Doyle, an effective barrier between them.

"Five minutes," Bodie announced, as he hung up. Not even enough time for another cup of coffee: he scooped up the empty mugs, and took them through to the kitchen. The door buzzer sounded as he was rinsing them. He dried his hands, and went to see Doyle and Allie out.

At the door, Doyle risked a quick look at his partner's face: Bodie's eyes met his, his expression strange -- almost as if he wanted...

---

That night, after making love to Allie, Doyle lay awake, idly holding the girl to him, thinking of Bodie... 'If we'd been born in another age, in China or Japan, we could've been kissing...kissing...' The words echoed round his mind. Did that mean that Bodie would -- did he feel the same? Did he LOVE -- want to MAKE LOVE with him? The thought of holding Bodie to him, naked in the night, sent a strange thrill through him, and centred on his groin... God, did that mean he was -- gay -- or what? So what did that make Bodie?

'...could've been kissing...' and making love, Bodie, thought Doyle. Is that what you want...I could do it with you...best mate and everything... He felt himself grow hard... Bodie, I could... I want to...

---

Across town, Bodie lay beside the sleeping Debbie, arms folded beneath his head, his unseeing eyes on the ceiling, as he focussed on a familiar fantasy... Doyle stretched on the bed, bare, well-loved...his...

-- THE END --