Bodie stood at attention in front of the desk belonging to the CI5 Controller. His partner, at his side as usual, wasn't so military in bearing, but still he stood quietly, not daring to take his usual canted hip stance. 3.7 and 4.5 had been called in as soon as they had arrived at work, even though they had been on time for once.

Since the two men had become lovers in the aftermath of the Wakeman/Catrell conspiracy, they had been afraid of this moment. CI5's non-fraternisation policy was explicit and not even part of the small print. It was there in bold letters: 'AGENTS ARE NOT TO BECOME INVOLVED ROMANTICALLY WITH EACH OTHER.'

Naturally, there had been those agents who had broken the rules over the years, particularly as the influx of female agents increased, but those had been short affairs, frequently born of boredom or excess emotions in a job which was hazardous to say the least.

On the other hand, short-term relationships between the male agents with typists, secretaries, and other female staff abounded. Cowley wasn't pleased with that, but considered it a necessary part of the organisation. Adrenalin, hormones, and availability led to such liaisons, but they usually didn't last too long. The agents wouldn't even report the name of their romantic partner, unless it became serious and then the female would need to be vetted. The fact that the female personnel or occasionally a male in the case of a female agent already had security clearance at some level facilitated the background check. In the end though, few agents chose to marry within CI5, perhaps because marriage usually meant leaving the A Squad or because they preferred to have a domestic partner who didn't remind them of their work.

Bodie and Doyle certainly knew of the non-fraternization rule, but that had rarely stopped them from chatting up female personnel, including Susie--she of the "I couldn't go out with anyone I can't respect" school. Like kids in a candy shop, the two agents had ogled, cajoled, and appraised their female colleagues endlessly, telling each other wild tales of their sexual prowess with Betty or any other female who popped into their fertile minds.

Then one fine day the serious pursuit of females became secondary after both men discovered something in themselves that could only be described as love. One night of passion in the wake of Catrell's capture had led to more until they had both realised that they needed only each other.

The fact that they still dated women occasionally was mere camouflage and rarely went further than a goodnight kiss. As a result, none of their colleagues had seemed to notice any difference in the 3.7/4.5 team. They were still known as studs and were frankly envied for their way with the ladies.

Now, it appeared that their subterfuge was at an end. Standing in the rest room together sipping a quick cuppa, Bodie had just whispered something in his lover's ear when they had heard the familiar voice of George Cowley. Turning as one they saw the Scotsman standing in the doorway. "I'd like to see the two of you now," he said in most terse manner.

"Yes, sir," Bodie had replied at his most congenial. He was an acknowledged master at handling Cowley. "If it's about the Copeland assignment, our report is done."

Cowley's blue eyes hardened. "It's not about the assignment. This is...personal."

Following the older man down the corridor, Doyle glanced over at Bodie. As usual the ex-merc's face seemed emotionless. They had discussed telling Cowley the truth about their relationship almost from the first night it had taken a sexual track, but had agreed to wait. They believed that it would help their cause if they could prove to their boss that their job performance together would not be undermined by their relationship, and thus Cowley might be willing to overlook the non-fraternisation rule. They were his best agents after all.

Upon entering the office, Cowley had taken a seat, but had not indicated to his operatives to do the same. Most men would have felt at a disadvantage to be seated while his subordinates were standing but most men were not George Cowley. He commanded the field and he well knew it.

The Controller leaned back in his chair, perusing both men. He had put them together as partners, knowing that they would complement each other: their strengths and weaknesses would mesh into a stronger-than-its-parts bond or at least that had been his intention in the beginning. To his satisfaction the pairing had proven fortuitous, giving him a weapon which was the envy of many other organisations, including MI6. Willis had carefully chosen one half of Cowley's best unit to be a scapegoat, but Doyle and Cowley had prevented that, resulting in the sacrifice of another.

Cowley cleared his throat. For a moment he wished he could indulge in a glass of malt, but he wouldn't allow himself that luxury so early in the morning. "I brought you both in here to say that I've been generally pleased with your work. I think your partnership has worked well for the good of CI5."

Bodie shifted slightly. Bollocks, here comes the axe. He tried to smile reassuringly over at his partner, but Doyle was looking down at his trainers.

"But there is a problem," the Controller continued. "Perhaps you recall a certain desk of mine which met its demise recently at your hands or should I say wheels?"

Doyle's head snapped up. "Twasn't all our fault, sir. We were chasin' those two students!"

"I know the details, 4.5! In fact, your mayhem in the streets was the talk of London law enforcement for days."

"Din't you put in a claim under the new act, sir?" Bodie demanded, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously.

"As a matter of fact, I did. 800 pounds is not something I can afford to lose!" The frugal Scot insisted.

"So what's the problem then, sir? You surely didn't want us to let them go? Sandy Copeland would be dead now if it weren't for our investigation!" Bodie protested.

"Be that as it may, I have received a complaint about the two of you and I cannot let it go this time."

Doyle looked over at Bodie. "Complaint? About what? Bodie took care of the opposition and I shot the bloke who took Sandy hostage!"

"Yes, yes, I know all of that, but this concerns my desk! I have received a complaint from the department which collects rubbish from the city streets. They want me to pay for the removal of the desk since it was considered a hazard to lorries and cars!"

Bodie gulped audibly. "Sorry about that, sir. Din't have time to pick it up."

"Uh, that's right, sir. Bodie 'n me were more concerned with innocent lives out on the High Street." Doyle gave his boss a guileless smile.

The Controller glared at one and then the other man. "Oh very well. I suppose it will have to be paid, but I'm assessing each of you one-third of the amount. Perhaps next time you'll remember to keep your weapon concealed better!"

Doyle winced but said nothing.

"Och, out of here with the two of you. I have work to do and I suggest you do your report on the Copeland case and don't try to tell me it's done."

"Yes, sir," the two men chorused together. Then with military precision they turned and left the room. As soon as they were in the clear, Doyle sank against one wall. "Blimey, I thought he was on to us!"

"Me too, lover. Guess we dodged another one," Bodie sighed in relief.

"We're gonna to have to tell him one of these days, you know," Doyle reminded him.

"I know, but not today. Say I wonder just how much we're going to have to pay? One-third of what?"

"Dunno and right now I don't care. Let's go get the report done 'cause I have plans for later."

"Oh? Anything involving me?" Bodie leered at the other man.

"Nah, just thought I'd do a spot of hooverin' 's all."

"What?" Bodie demanded in bewilderment.

As Doyle reached over to whisper in his lover's ear, Bodie broke into a delighted grin. "Can do my cleanin' anytime, angelfish."

-- THE END --