A big thank you to my beta, Slantedlight. You did a great job, I couldn't ask for more.*mwah*

Written for the "Discovered on a Gangplank" challenge on the discoveredinalj livejournal community, to celebrate international Talk Like a Pirate Day


"Sorry, no can do."

Doyle stopped what he was doing -- bird watching out the passenger window -- and turned to glare at his partner. "Why not?"

"Got a date."

"Oh yeah?" Doyle snorted. "Who is she then?" Knowing Bodie, it could be almost anyone who had cleavage. "Oi, who is she? That new bird in Records?" he laughed at that too, the girl was ugly as sin.

"Funny. But no."

"Come on," Doyle grinned at him. "If you're ditching our Friday nights at Rosie's then she's gotta be something."

"Yeah, something," Bodie said mysteriously, changing lanes.

"And what's that supposed to mean? Do I know her?"

There was a pause. "Yes."

"Yes?"

"Well..." Bodie sighed. "Not really, no."

"So which is it?" Doyle glared at him. "A yes, or a no?"

"Well," Bodie said again. "Both. Kind of. You know... him."

For a moment Doyle thought he'd misheard. It had sounded like... "WHAT?"

Bodie didn't say anything.

"Him?" Doyle couldn't quite grasp that piece of information. "Are you saying... you're saying," his lip curled, "that you're going out with a... bloke?"

Bodie nodded curtly.

Chuckling, Doyle said, "Good one, mate, almost had me believing it."

"It's not a joke."

"Sure, Bodie. And I'm the King of Egypt."

"I told you, Doyle, when we met. I'm bi."

"I know you told me." He shook his head. "It's just... I dunno. You're really not pulling me leg?"

"No."

"Okay, then."

But it wasn't okay, especially since Bodie wasn't saying anything.

"So I know him," Doyle said after a while.

"Yeah." Bodie's voice was neutral.

"Where?"

"Cricket. You know."

Doyle blinked at him, confused.

"The new lad who's just joined the team, good all-rounder."

"What, Jeff?" That ponce?! He was tall and wiry, moved like something out of Pirates of Penzance, and had looked more than willing to swash his buckle with Bodie.

Bodie laughed. "No, not Jeff."

"Oh." Doyle calmed a bit. "Who then?"

"Doyle, there're only two new blokes on my cricket team. You bloody-well know who."

"Oh." Fucking hell. And he did know. That gorilla-sized Irishman. 'Old pals, Doyle, served together in the army,' and 'Had some good times, Big Derek and me.' Doyle had seen in the changing room how the name had fit. And he hadn't liked Derek, not at all. He certainly didn't want to know what kind of good times the two had had.

"I thought you liked him," Bodie said.

"Got a rotten sense of humour, he does."

Bodie grinned. "Army humour, mate."

"And he's not very quick on the uptake, is he?"

"Seems just fine to me."

Yeah, he would, wouldn't he? Fuck, was Bodie defending him now? Doyle was going to throw up. "So what are you two doing tonight?"

Bodie just smiled, and Doyle wanted to kill himself. Good one. Didn't mean it quite the way it came out. "We'll have a drink together or something," Bodie said finally. "Rosie's, probably."

"That's our place," Doyle muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Right."

They were quiet for a while, and then Doyle asked, "So, you two... you're doing it then?"

Bodie's jaw tightened. "Knew you'd ask that, Doyle. So very predictable."

"Yeah," Doyle said, pissed off. "You know me."

"Yeah."

"So are you?"

Bodie shot him a glare. "Sod off, Doyle."

Doyle laughed. "Nice choice of words there, mate."

"Just watch your mouth, okay?"

"Or what?"

Bodie changed lanes again, but didn't say anything.

"Look," Doyle sighed. He was making a right mess of things. "Sorry."

"Of course you are."

"I am!" Doyle sat up in his seat. "I just don't like him."

"Thought it was me that was supposed to like him," Bodie said sarcastically.

"Yeah, look," he rubbed his hand over his mouth. "He's too... too..."

"Too, what?"

Yeah, too what, Raymond, old son? Too much of a man? Too butch? Too tall? Too handsome? Fuck.

"Too, what, Doyle? I can't wait to see what you come up with."

"He your type then?" Doyle scoffed.

"Type?"

"Yeah."

"I don't have a type."

"'Course you do, everyone does."

"I'm not everyone."

"No," Doyle had to agree, lips twisting wryly. That much was true. "So if you like tall and dark, do you like Murphy then?"

Bodie blinked, then started laughing. "Oh, no."

Doyle smiled, amused despite himself. "Why not?"

"Too tall for me," Bodie said. "Too pretty."

"Ah," Doyle bit his lip. "Definitely not a word I'd associate with our Murph." He tried to grin at Bodie to show he meant well. Bodie rolled his eyes. "What about McCabe?"

"He's a pig."

"Lucas?"

Bodie gave him a look. "Are you trying to be funny?"

"Sorry," Doyle smirked, getting into his stride. "What about Anson?"

Wrinkling his nose, Bodie said, "Smokes like a chimney. Only two brain cells."

"Stuart?"

"Stuart?" Bodie sounded genuinely surprised. "Thought he was after your pretty arse."

"What?"

"You didn't notice?"

Doyle gritted his teeth. "Notice what?"

"That he's after your pretty arse." Bodie started laughing again, which proved to be dangerous -- he narrowly missed the cab in front of them, and Doyle's head smacked against the window.

"Keep your eyes on the road, okay?!" he growled.

"Sorry."

"You bloody-well should be." Doyle rubbed the spot on his forehead. "I dunno why I let you drive my car."

"'Cause you like me," Bodie said lightly.

Doyle snorted, but something pulled honesty out of him. "'Course I do. You're my mate."

"Best mate?" Bodie tried.

"Hmm." Best and only, probably, sad as it was to admit. Oh, Doyle knew a lot of people, people he could go out for a drink with, but no one he would say was his friend in the true sense of the word. Not even, really, Jax who was married and rarely seen outside work.

Bodie, on the other hand, Bodie had a lot of pals. From the army, from cricket, all those half-mad used-to-be-a-mercenary-in-Africa types. And he had a lot of mates in CI5 too. Knew things about them in three days that Doyle hadn't found out -- or bothered to ask -- in three months. No wonder everyone liked Bodie. He liked Bodie.

"Aw, so I am your best mate," Bodie said, grinning. "Lovely."

Doyle folded his arms over his chest. "Don't abuse it."

"I'm driving your car, aren't I?"

Doyle shoved him playfully. "Sod off."

"Oi, watch it!"

"Yeah, yeah." Doyle laughed and leaned back in his seat, made himself more comfortable. Yeah, he did like Bodie. And Bodie liked him back. "Don't you?"

"You what?" Bodie glanced at him with raised eyebrows. "Try and formulate complete sentences, mate, I'm not telepathic."

Doyle shoved him again. "Makes me your best mate."

Bodie shrugged. "Dunno."

"Ta."

Bodie grinned. "Welcome."

He wanted to ask Bodie again, wanted Bodie to admit it, but knew he wouldn't. And Doyle suddenly needed to know, needed to know if Bodie cared about him the way he, after all, cared.

"You okay? You've gone a bit pale."

"Fine." But he wasn't really. Self-pity wasn't his style, but what else would he have left if he didn't have Bodie's affection? Oh, there were his birds, but that wasn't the same thing, was it? He'd save Bodie's life over theirs any day.

His breath caught in his throat.

"You sure everything's okay?"

"Yeah."

But it wasn't, was it?

Did Cowley know? But if he did, he would have split them up. Agents didn't save their partners over Joe Public. Fuck.

"I can pull over if you want," Bodie sounded worried now.

"No, no. Just drive." Doyle wanted to laugh; God, he felt miserable.

The car slowed down and Bodie turned right at the corner.

"Oi, what are you doing?"

"Going to my place, it's closer."

"Yeah, but why?"

"Can't have you driving round half London when you're sick now, can we? You really don't look too good, old son."

Doyle unconsciously scratched at his flawed cheek. "Don't bother, mate, I'm fine. Starting a cold, maybe."

"Uncle Bodie's gonna make you chicken soup then, isn't he?"

"Bodie..." He sighed. "I thought you had a hot date."

"Gonna cancel."

"Why, 'cause your partner's got a cold?" Doyle asked, in disbelief.

"Yeah," Bodie said tensely. And Bodie would too, wouldn't he? Stupid idiot. Stupid idiot cared.

I do too, mate, I do too.

-- THE END --

September 2006