The Professionals belongs to Brian Clemens and Mark 1 Productions. This is done for love, not money.

Doyle's mouth twitched as he caught sight of Bodie slouching along the street. Somehow, the seedy look quite suited him. It was just a shame about the accompanying stink. "You want some fruit?"

"Never had you down as a fruit, Ray."

Bodie gave him a hard look but Doyle radiated innocence. Not believing it in the slightest, Bodie picked over a pile of apples. "Yeah. What you got?" he mumbled.

"We got Cape apples, we got French grapes, Morocco oranges - all home grown." Doyle grinned at his own joke.

"Got any peaches, Ray?" A eloquently raised eyebrow, and Doyle swallowed hard.

"Bum like a peach," Bodie murmured into his ear, hands roaming possessively. "Always enjoy getting to the stone in a peach..."

"Yeah, 10p. Two peaches for the last of the big spenders - don't go away, darling." Doyle turned his attention to an approaching customer. "I'll be right with you, soon as I've, er, seen to this gentleman."

"I'm gonna give you such a seeing to, Bodie..."

His eyes met Bodie's as he twisted the bag closed. "Buys everything like Noah, in twos. 20p."

"God, wish I could have two of you, Ray."

Bodie took the bag of peaches. "Got any progress?" he asked quietly.

"Not so's you'd notice."

"Boy named Jimmy, his girl ODed a couple of weeks ago, very uptight."

"I'll find ou-"

"Hey!" Bodie looked up from his paper bag, outrage on his face. "These peaches are bruised."

"That's the trouble with you, sailor." Doyle stared at Bodie. "You don't know your own strength."

"Hope I don't have to explain these bruises to Esther. You don't know your own strength."

With a raised eyebrow, Bodie helped himself to a bunch of grapes and walked off.

"Reckon I'd make a great Bacchus. You could feed me grapes all day. Up for it, Ray?"

-- THE END --

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