Doyle wriggled down in his seat and settled his head back, surprised to discover just how comfortable the back seat of Cowley's car could be.

Not that that was much consolation. He hated motorway driving, specially at night when it was pitch black and there was nothing to see outside. It was like being in limbo, as if the rest of the world was standing still, and the only thing moving was the car.

He was thankful he wasn't driving, though. That would have been even worse. He almost felt sorry for Franks, who'd copped the driver's job on this last lap of the journey. It looked like Franks wouldn't get a break before they got back to London either, for Cowley was fast asleep on the front passenger seat, as he had been for the past hour, his head lolling back on the headrest, and that being the case, Franks had no choice but to grin and bear it... and keep on driving.

Not surprising Cowley was dead to the world, though. They'd had one hell of a day. Babysitting a group of foreign dignitaries at a conference up north...

Nothing to do except keep alert and observe the formalities. The kind of job they hated the most because it was boring, and yet could ultimately turn out to be very dangerous.

And it was now 3.30 in the morning, Doyle reminded himself, and they'd been on duty for more than 20 hours without a break, counting all the traveling, and he'd had enough. He was irritable, and tired and very fed up, and strung tight with the tension that came from inactive though stressful work as the guarding of the dignitaries had been.

He was annoyed with Cowley too. They wouldn't have been driving back like this in the middle of the night if Cowley hadn't insisted on it. Crazy... Doyle considered they could quite easily have put up in a hotel overnight and come back leisurely in the morning, but once Cowley get a bee in his bonnet about "saving precious time" there was no changing his mind.

He cast a baleful glance in Cowley's direction as he slid further down in his seat, pulling his jacket more snugly around him. It was cold in the car, even with the heater on full blast, and his feet was like blocks of ice.

He subdued a shiver and glanced across at Bodie who was sharing the back seat with him, some of his irritation dissipating straightaway at the sight of his partner slumped by his side, fast asleep. Bodie looked so... cuddly... as if he might be very good to curl up with on a cold, bleak night like this.

Crazy to even think of cuddling up to tough, ex-mercenary Bodie in the middle of the night, just because he was feeling cold and tired, and a little insecure, but thinking about it made Doyle feel better.

In fact just looking at Bodie made him feel better.

He was hunched up facing him, one leg curled underneath him, the other dangling loosely from the seat, his hands snuggled under his jacket for warmth, hugging his waist, his face peaceful and relaxed, and starkly pale in the flashing headlamps of the oncoming cars.

And he looked so vulnerable to Doyle's probing eyes, ex-mercenary or not... long lashes fanning onto too pale cheeks, hair ruffled, wide, pouting lips slightly parted.

And tired too. Even in this poor light Doyle could see deep blue shadows of exhaustion underneath his eyes.

That was no surprise either. They hadn't had a decent break for months, and it was long overdue.

He turned on his side, wanting to study Bodie more closely, taking in the finely chiseled beauty of the normally cool, sardonic face, which was so touchingly open and childlike in sleep.

He stayed like that for a long time, unconsciously relaxing, much of his frustration and tension evaporating as he concentrated all his thoughts on Bodie.

And at last, he allowed the steady, rhythmic purr of the engine to lull him too, his eyelids drooping shut...

He awoke with a start as the car jolted over a rough patch of road, to find that Bodie had fallen to one side, dark head bobbing only inches from his shoulder. He was slipping closer with each second too, gradually sliding towards Doyle along the smooth upholstery of the seat.

A surge of amused tenderness welled inside Doyle at the deeply slumbering, childlike face, and the defenceless posture of the slumped, relaxed body. And one thing was for sure. If Bodie stayed in that position with his head bobbing on his chest, he was gonna wake up with a hell of a crick in his neck.

He glanced to the front of the car, taking another quick look at Cowley, checking, but he was still slumped sideways in his seat, well away.

He shifted his gaze to the driving mirror. Franks was staring straight ahead, a slight frown creasing his brow.

So far so good...

What was the world coming to anyway if you couldn't hold you partner while he slept? Even if Cowley or Franks saw him, there was nothing wrong in it, was there?

Having settled that point satisfactorily in his own mind, Doyle edged cautiously across the seat and slipped an arm round Bodie's broad shoulders, making contact with the rough wool of his gray and white checked jacket, and gently pulled him closer. He lowered the dark bobbing head to his shoulder and slid his arms round Bodie's waist, to his back, supporting him... right underneath the open jacket, so he could warm his hands there.

He immediately found a second welcome layer of warmth. This time it was the soft wool of Bodie's polo-necked sweater.

Bodie sighed in his sleep as he was moved, and made a funny, muffled little grunting sound in his throat. It didn't sound like a complaint though, and he seemed to be burrowing in face into Doyle's neck at the same time, so Doyle didn't pull away. Bodie's leg had slipped down from its curled up position on the seat and one firm, hard muscled thigh had now lodged itself against Doyle's too.

Doyle leaned back, getting comfortable, taking Bodie with him, resting his cheek against the soft hair on the top of Bodie's head, closing his eyes.

He'd never held Bodie in quite this way before, and it felt... wonderful. So wonderful he wondered why it'd never occurred to him to do it before, because, for all his cool surface manner, he knew Bodie was a bit of a softie, and probably wouldn't have raised any objections, other than those of the teasing variety, to this kind of contact.

No, the fault lay with him, Doyle realised with a feeling of sadness. There'd always been a reluctance on his part to be physically close to others... affectionately close... even with Bodie. Oh, he knew he was fine when it came to sex, but even with his girlfriends sometimes he knew he gave the impression of being a bit detached and lacking in affection.

It was a sort of natural reticence, he supposed, which he suspected often made him give off a kind of 'touch me not' aura. But it saddened him to realise it now, particularly where Bodie was concerned, because he felt so good, holding Bodie like this. Apart from anything else Bodie was as warm as toast, his incredible body heat taking the chill away in seconds, and he was so comfortable... it felt so... right... to be holding him.

Doyle hugged the generous body closer, and rubbed his cheek against Bodie's soft hair. It smelt delicious... clean and fresh, making him want to bury his face it its sweet silky warmth.

And the cuddly woolen jacket was so cozy... all fresh and woodsmokey, even after all these hours in the car, with just a hint of Bodie's aftershave clinging to it for good measure.

He allowed the warm, contented feelings to wash over him, resting his head back on the seat, perfectly content, until it suddenly occurred to him that if it was this good to simply sit holding Bodie in the back of a car, it had to be even better to lie holding him in bed, naked... warm skin against warm skin...

The thought was exciting, but frightening too, filled with deep, dark, forbidden desires. Disturbing, even to an ex-cop who considered himself more or less unshockable, and who'd seen pretty much everything the seedier life of London's underworld had to offer.

And it was very worrying, because there was no getting away from the fact that there was an undeniable attraction there. A sudden, unwished for longing to know what it might be like to be more intimate with Bodie.

His arms tightened reflexively and tensely round the strong body at the thought, making Bodie murmur in his sleep again.

Doyle tensed as one heavy arm suddenly lifted and clamped itself round his waist, and a hot, demanding face burrowed even more deeply into his shoulder.

The strength of the demanding arm was exciting too, taking Doyle's breath away, but it loosened its hold after a second, as Bodie seemed to settle deeper into sleep again, and Doyle relaxed a little, letting out the deep breath he'd been holding.

Well, if Bodie woke up and found himself lying in his arms, it'd be embarrassing to say the least. Doyle was well aware that it was an uncharacteristic thing for him to do, and there was no possible explanation, other than the obvious, sentimental one.

Chastened, he looked down, took in the appealing sight of the generous body resting so trustingly against him, loving to see Bodie like this.

Loving it so much that without even thinking about it, his eyes drifted automatically and irresistibly downwards... all the way down... to the soft, vulnerable mound between Bodie's legs.

It naturally swelled more at the top of Bodie's left thigh, as did his own, and Doyle found himself somewhat shamefully comparing size and shape and position, feeling it was quite possible he was going out of his mind for even thinking such a thing.

Ridiculous...

He forced his errant gaze upwards again, took a deep, calming breath, staring fixedly ahead to the front of the car, over Bodie's head.

He knew Bodie was still deeply asleep, for he was heavy and slack in his arms, and he could hear his relaxed breathing. He knew Cowley was asleep too, and that even if Franks looked in the driving mirror his view would stop more or less at shoulder level.

And, oh God, he just had such a terrible longing to be closer... and it wasn't so very wrong, was it? How could it be when he needed it so much?

He moved a tentative hand from Bodie's back till it rested against a warm, firmly padded stomach... moved it further up, and found the rounded, hard-muscled strength of Bodie's chest, fingertips daring to touch a prominent nipple through the thin wool of the sweater, rubbing his palm over it, ridiculously excited as he felt it harden under the light friction.

The flat of his hand slid over the mounded breast surrounding the responsive nipple, shifted to repeat the caress on the other side of Bodie's chest, producing the same result almost as soon as he touched him... thrilled that the light stroking could make Bodie respond so quickly.

But Bodie chose to sigh and wiggle against him, and make another strange little sound deep in his throat.

Doyle froze, staying rigidly still, hardly daring to breathe, certain Bodie must have woken up, but after a few seconds, he seemed to settle down again and Doyle risked moving the hand lower down, back over Bodie's stomach, till it rested daringly just above the swelling at his groin, where he could feel the potent heat of Bodie's sex against his hand.

Taking shallow little panting breaths, hardly believing what he was doing, Doyle edged the hand further down, curling it at last round the soft sex, loving the generous hot feel of it.

He cupped the hand over it, could even identify the outline of tender, vulnerable balls and the hot head of the cock, which had hardened to his questing fingers.

A surge of excitement shot through him, for Bodie's legs seemed to have slipped further apart too, and there was plenty of room, so much room he could gentle the hot sex quite easily in his hand.

It was wonderful, feeling it harden and throb for him, and he wanted to carry on doing it all night... but it was crazy... he had to stop.

Apart from anything else, if Bodie knew what he was doing, Doyle suspected he'd probably kill him. And he didn't like the thought of doing it without Bodie's knowledge. He had such a terrible yearning to experience it openly and consentingly with him... to see his reaction, to know perhaps that Bodie wanted it too.

As for the thought of Bodie maybe wanting to do the same thing to him... God... he felt his own sex throb tightly and urgently between his legs, his stomach turning to sweet liquid honey.

With a gigantic effort of will, he slid his hand away... but he couldn't bear to lose contact completely, and so moved it to a corded inner thigh instead, feeling the hard muscles under his fingers.

Reveling in sweet discovery, he swept the hand round and up to the outside of Bodie's thigh, shaking fingers shaping the generous curves, then even further up to the more pronounced curve of one firm buttock.

Curves and curves and more curves... all rounded hardness and softness combined... wonderful... and so different from his own body shape. They were almost complete physical opposites...

Bodie's cords had back pockets though, with a button fastener, and Doyle's smooth, exploratory journey was hampered when it reached them. It was so difficult to feel Bodie's true shape underneath them.

Breathless with excitement, he nevertheless forced his hand back up the firm body, back underneath Bodie's jacket to his waist, rubbing there abstractly, following the curve of the spine inwards, settling snuggling fingers just inside the waistband of the tight cords, making contact with warm, smooth flesh and the small patch of endearing fluffy down at the small of Bodie's back.

The steady throbbing between his legs was almost unbearable now, and there was such a sweet desire for more building inside him.

He couldn't recall ever having had such a strong physical reaction to anyone... and it was all the more amazing to him, because what he'd done was hardly anything at all... the slightest of caresses...

After a time, he took another quick glance at the front of the car.

Cowley hadn't stirred, and Franks... well, that seemed to be OK too. He'd swear Franks' gaze had never wavered. His face through the driving mirror was like a stone, concentrating hard, oblivious to anything but his driving.

But it was then that Bodie decided to move... properly this time, and so forcibly Doyle was suddenly convinced he couldn't be asleep anymore.

Bodie was in fact busy hitching himself further up in his seat, grabbing Doyle's curly head and settling it in a very no nonsense manner on his shoulder, and he seemed to be very fussy about exactly which position Doyle should be in too.

Then strong fingers buried themselves in Doyle's hair, pushing his head even further down on Bodie's chest, and a viselike arm went round Doyle's waist, holding him very tightly indeed, as if daring him to try and get away.

Doyle was effectively trapped. Not that he minded, just so long as he could control the burning, throbbing heat between his legs, and the overwhelming panic that came from suspecting Bodie might just have been awake all the time.

But it that was the case, Doyle couldn't understand why Bodie hadn't put a stop to it. Bodie was the last person to accept that kind of attention from another man, wasn't he?

Doyle's tired brain could no longer work it out, and he was suddenly too sleepy to care. He only knew if Bodie had been awake, he was, quite justifiably, in for one hell of a row when they got back to London and Bodie had a chance to tackle him about it.

Bodie awoke to discover he way lying in Doyle's arms with his head burrowed in the warmth of his shoulder, and that Doyle was holding him very tightly.

It was such a surprise that for a moment Bodie wondered if he was dreaming. It was something he had dreamt before, and very pleasant it had always been too.

But Doyle's slim, hot little body felt remarkably substantial this time, so he was forced to the conclusion it was actually happening.

And pleasant as it was, Bodie was puzzled. It was so untypical of Ray for a start. Ray, holding him while he slept? Very tightly, and as if he wanted to keep on holding him? More than a little mindblowing when Bodie considered how Doyle normally shied away from physical contact like the plague... Look, but don't touch, that was Ray's credo, and a very effective on it'd always been too, as far as Bodie could gather.

And he remembered Ray definitely hadn't been holding him when he'd originally dropped off. He remembered distinctly he'd been very much on his own side of the car, thinking how nice it'd be to curl up to Ray, and recognising how impossible it was.

So why this now? Bodie was baffled.

Nevertheless, he was enjoying it too much to even think of moving, so he stayed very still, suspecting the slightest movement might make Ray move away from him.

But it was very hard not to try and make the most of it, so, after a moment, he risked settling his arm round Ray's skinny waist, letting it flop down heavily, as if he was still asleep, and snuggled his face into the hot, sweet-smelling skin of Ray's neck, loving the satiny feel of it against his cheek and nose, drinking in the smell of Ray's leather jacket, and the even sweeter, tangy scent of his skin.

It was so comfortable lying close to Ray... something Bodie had wanted for a long time, though he'd never had the nerve to admit to it. Well, it just wasn't on, was it? What with Ray's habitual 'keep off' attitude... and it wasn't the sort of thing any self-respecting ex-mercenary could admit to wanting, however fond he was of his partner. He could imagine Ray's reaction if he had anyway. He'd probably have adopted his uppity, ultra wary manner and asked him very sarcastically if he was turning gay in his old age.

He tried to make his body relax as much as possible after he'd put his arm around Ray, wanting him to think he was still asleep, and wanting so desperately for Ray not to move away from him.

As he lay there though, breathing as slowly and deeply as he could, trying to control his racing heart, the true implications of the situation began to seep through to him. God, it wasn't even as if they were alone. Cowley was sitting only a couple of feet away for a start.

He was feeling too good to worry about it though, and was just starting to feel drowsy again, lulled by the heat from Ray's body, when he suddenly felt a hand move very surreptitiously from his back to the front of his body... to his stomach in fact.

He took a deep breath because he was very sensitive and ticklish there, and tensed, as he felt his stomach muscles ripple at the pressure of the hot hand, wondering what the hell Ray was up to.

He didn't have long to wait to find out because the hand didn't stay still for more that a couple of seconds. To Bodie's utter astonishment, it was slowly moving up to his chest, and rubbing over his right nipple... in the most sensual way.

Oh, the pleasure...

He knew his nipples hardened straightaway as soon as he was touched, like they always did, and could feel a tight, burning, throbbing reacting to the gentle rubbing start between his legs... could hardly stop himself from moaning in sheer delight, wondering how the hell Ray could possibly know how much that particular caress turned him on.

Turned him on so much he wanted nothing more than to pull his sweater up and out of the way, and feel those hot, magical fingers teasing his bare skin instead... wanting to arch his back to the exquisite sensations, to pull Ray's head down, wanting him to suck him there too.

It was very hard to think straight, but he knew he had to try. It seemed there were three possible alternatives. He could either put a stop to it now, pretend he was asleep and didn't know what was going on, or become an active participant.

One glance to the front of the car and the forbidding sight of Cowley's balding head, told him there was no way he could become an active participant. It was almost too much to take now. If he started joining in he knew he'd be finished... could quite possibly end up moaning in ecstasy down Cowley's ear as he came, and that'd take more that a bit of explaining.

But Ray's behavior needed a bit of explaining too. Was it really possible Ray had deliberately set out to pleasure him? Had he been giving out signals unknowingly that Ray had picked up on? Bodie was sure he hadn't, in which case, Ray was taking a hell of a risk, not knowing how much he liked it. Was risking getting his teeth kicked in for all he knew.

It was at that point Bodie went back to his original theory that he might be dreaming it all. A very vivid dream but a dream nevertheless, because he would have sworn Ray was the last person to be into fellas... he was to keen for the birds for a start...

The whole thing was starting to become crazy... unreal.

And when Ray swept his hand across his chest and used those wonderful fingers to tease the other nipple erect, it became even more unreal.

Bodie couldn't stand it anymore anyway... couldn't stop himself from sighing in pleasure... and felt Doyle go rigid against him as he did so.

For a moment Bodie thought that might be it, that Ray might call it a day, but he didn't. He only waited a couple of seconds and then the hand was on the move again, downwards this time, and Bodie could hear Ray's breath coming in excited little gusting bursts in his ear. Obviously getting turned on himself by what he was doing.

It was at that stage of the proceedings Bodie decided he was going to let things continue. It was all too beautiful for him to bear the thought of stopping it anyway.

And, God, was that hot, knowing little hand on the move. It had slid right down the front of his body... was almost there for God's sake.

Bodie felt himself swell in anticipation... wanting it so much... wanting Ray to hold him in his hand, stroke him.

But the hand stopped just above his groin, almost as if it was teasing him, or as if Ray couldn't quite make up his mind whether or not he was going to go any further. It was rubbing and circling over Bodie's lower stomach, Bodie mentally pleading for it to move further down.

Then all at once, it did, and Bodie could have cried out with the sweet joy of it.

His legs automatically slipped further apart as he felt Ray actually daring to outline the shape of the hardening shaft, a skimming fingertip circling the head, as if wanting to learn the shape and fell and size of him. Then the hand moved fleetingly further down, brushing over his balls... like taking an inventory, Bodie thought crazily, like checking they were there... before it slid upwards again to his cock, rubbing and kneading it delicately.

He wanted to thrust up to that hot hand so much... to lift himself to it and use his own hand to press Ray's more firmly against him. God, if only he could feel the hand on his hot burning skin too, not hampered by his cords... if he could only unzip his trousers and push Ray's hand inside.

He was almost on the point of throwing caution to the winds and doing just that, when he remembered how impossibly crazy the whole situation was. Nothing about it was real anymore. It seemed totally divorced from reality, and the carefully worked out demarcation lines of their day to day relationship.

And Ray's hot shaking fingers had suddenly stopped moving over him too... not increasing their pressure... the touch becoming lighter...

With an acute sense of loss Bodie realised Ray might have lost his nerve... might even stop altogether.

It was so painful to acknowledge it... to be wanting something so very much... to be longing for it so, for a moment he didn't think he could bear it...

Ray's hard, hot, lean thigh was pressing against his own, Ray's heart racing against his...

He looked down, could see in the dim light that the lean thighs were parted and that the mound of Ray's sex was unnaturally swollen too... and suddenly had the irresistible urge to touch him... in the same way Ray had touched him... but he knew he hadn't the nerve to go through with it. If he did that they'd be lost anyway. He didn't know how the hell either of them was going to cope with this in the morning as it was.

And he was scared at the intensity of his reaction.

Oh, he'd known how much he cared for Ray, but he'd kidded himself for far too long that it didn't encompass the sexual, that it was merely a deep friendship, a matey intimacy, a closeness borne of the job and the mutual dangers they shared. But to admit you could be turned on by your partner too, was the death knell as far as CI5 was concerned. And to have this sweet, unbearable longing to crush him in your arms, to kiss him over and over again, to hold him, touch him, make love to him... was the most terrifyingly wonderful thing Bodie'd ever known. Just the thought of holding that sweet, urchin face between his hands, kissing the full lips and feeling them part for him... to have Doyle do the same to him, and smile at him as a lover would...

Yeah, well he could very well be seeing his career in tatters if he carried on thinking like that, couldn't he?

It would've been all right of course, without tonight... without being made so graphically aware that Ray could want him too, but as things stood it was all very dangerous.

Confused, and still aching with need, he held his breath as he felt Ray's hand move between his legs and curve round the inside of his left thigh, squeezing it tightly.

It was almost as much of a turn on as what the hand had been doing for the last couple of minutes, and Bodie nearly cried out in pleasure.

Then the hand swept up to the outside of his thigh, cupped his left buttock hard, and the pleasure was so intense, Bodie thought he'd go through the roof.

He knew he couldn't take anymore, that he'd finally be forced to say something to stop that wonderful, wayward wandering hand, but even as he was building himself up to say something, the hand swept back up his body, fingers working their way inside the waistband of his pants and settling against his spine.

God, it was incredible. Ray Doyle, aloof, self-sufficient, his tough little ex-cop, straight-as-they-came partner, touching him up in the back seat of Cowley's car in the middle of the night?

It was beyond belief.

His mind was a confused jumble of emotions. Mystified, thrilled, amazed, and filled with a sweet yearning for more he'd never experienced with any woman.

Of course, he reminded himself, there was still Ray's evil nature to be taken into account, too. Bodie still couldn't convince himself Ray had behaved like this out of genuine need. There was always curiosity and boredom and randiness to be taken into account. Or insecurity.

He knew Ray sometimes suffered from a crazy kind of insecurity in the middle of the night. He'd seen him get uptight so many times when they'd been on duty in the early hours, whether the job was dangerous or not, in which case, he supposed he was flattered. If Ray had felt the need and snuggled up to him in the hope he could fill it. And if that was the case, what had happened afterwards could've been entirely accidental, not planned at all.

He couldn't work it out. He was too tired. He only knew he had no idea how the hell he was going to face Ray in the morning.

What to do... what to say... how to behave... what attitude to adopt. Pretended innocence? A casual, flippant, knowing stance? A wink and a nudge?

He only knew he wanted more, so he deliberately snuggled closer, no longer caring if Ray knew he was awake, placed the soft, woolly head on his chest, closed his eyes and rested...

"Right, Franks, wake these two babes in arms, will you, while I radio HQ..."

Doyle surfaced to discover he was still tightly clasped in Bodie's sleeping arms and that they'd arrived back at the safe house where they'd left their cars early the previous morning. It was almost light and the cool early morning air was chilling him to the bone.

He unfolded himself from his cramped position with great care, sliding out of Bodie's grasp. Babes in arms... what an insult, calling CI5 men babes in arms.

Bodie sighed and complained a lot as Doyle moved away from him, tried to drag him back again in fact, in what Doyle considered a very determined way.

He looked down anxiously at the frowning, sleep-filled face, as the memories of what had happened during the night came flooding back. "Come on, sunshine, rise and shine. We're home..." he said softly, shaking Bodie's shoulder. He had the urge to run his hand over the ruffled silky dark hair too, but that was out of the question for a number of reasons, all of them worrying.

There was a long groan of pain and irritation from Bodie as he stretched cramped limbs and managed to sit up.

The normally clear blue eyes were bleary, puffy, dark-fringed slits. Doyle watched as they opened and closed a few times, as if of their own volition, until Bodie rubbed both hands over them vigorously, yawned, stretched his arms right over his head, and came round properly.

What had happened in the car on that long, strange journey suddenly seemed like a dream to Doyle, and he could only hope it seemed that way to Bodie too.

A momentary aberration... a sudden, crazy desire to be close to his partner. Not that the desire had suddenly disappeared with the cold light of day, but sadness at realising the impossibility of achieving it was uppermost in Doyle's thoughts now.

He was feeling embarrassed too as he watched Bodie take what seemed an unusually long time to collect himself, for Bodie normally came round straightaway... was trained to be instantly alert.

What Doyle didn't know though was that with returning consciousness had come as much anxiety and embarrassment for Bodie as for himself.

Bodie was desperately playing for time, not knowing how to behave or what attitude to adopt, still rubbing at his eyes, and running his hands through his usually neat hair, trying to smooth it into some semblance of order, without much success. Little tufts of it were standing on end, specially at the back, and wouldn't lie down, no matter how hard he tried to make them do so. And awkward and worried as he was feeling, Doyle still found Bodie's efforts touchingly amusing.

Cowley's face appeared again through the open door of the car. "Come on, you two, get a move on. Six hours off duty, then back here at noon. There're things to be done."

Cowley looked pretty ropey too. Bags under his eyes, face more lined and craggy than ever, but then Doyle supposed they all looked a bit rough this morning.

Bodie by this time had decided something needed to be said, for the silence had stretched on for far too long. He was in fact casting about in his mind for a suitable comment of any kind... and finally ended up saying the first thing that came into his head.

"You in a fit state to drive?" he asked. It was a pretty inane question, but it'd do for a start.

But to Doyle he sounded remarkably normal -- just like his usual self. Doyle had expected a marked change in attitude, convinced as he was that Bodie knew what he'd done on that long journey, and found himself nonplused by Bodie's apparent normality.

He forced himself to look at Bodie, feeling more than a little apprehensive, praying he wouldn't flush and really give the game away, and found dark, unreadable eyes holding his somewhat warily. They didn't look angry though, only perhaps a little puzzled, but Doyle still found their gaze impossible to take, and looked away first.

He shrugged. "Yeah, fine."

Bodie sniffed, looked outside, taking in the bleak, early morning prospect. "Christ, it's cold."

Doyle forced himself to look back at him. The dark blue eyes were holding his in what seemed to be a more probing, questioning way now, but still giving nothing away. Bodie's face was like stone... totally expressionless, totally unreadable.

But Doyle was still on the point of panic because everything about Bodie was reminding him of what had happened during the night. The cuddly woolen jacket... the black sweater... the sleek, wavy head... the tight fawn cords...

He clambered quickly out of the car, Bodie following suit, and standing by his side, leaning on the bonnet, shivering. Doyle was forced to control the irrational urge to put his arms round him and try to warm him up. He looked so tired and pale this morning.

"Might as well take my car," Bodie was saying, "crazy to use both. I can drop you off and pick you up later on."

Doyle nodded his approval without really thinking, wanting only to get away, not realising how embarrassing the drive would be.

It was only once they'd set off he realised how much wiser it would have been to use his own car and drive home alone, because he was so strung tight with tension he couldn't think of a single thing to say to Bodie, but could only sit tensely in his seat, willing the short drive to be over.

As he'd suspected it seemed to take forever, and most worrying of all was that Bodie seemed to be as tense as he was. He hardly uttered a word all the way. In normal circumstances of course the awkwardness could be explained away by tiredness, but Doyle knew better than to assume these were normal circumstances.

Bodie for his part, was terrified, just as much aware of the unnatural silence between them as Doyle was, but aware of a lot of other things too this morning. Like the remembered pleasure of what had happened during the night... overly aware of Doyle's closeness too, and of the battered leather jacket which had smelt so delicious, and the remembered feel of the lean strong body against his own, and the magical caresses of the small, delicate hands resting so sedately now in Doyle's lap.

And Ray looked so tired this morning too... the round face pale and puffy with lack of sleep.

Bodie had come to a decision as well, knowing there was no way he could let last night go without comment. Scary as it was, Ray meant too much to him not to probe a little and discover what his true motives had been... and to discover if he might unbelievably want more of that sweet pleasure, just as Bodie did.

To hell with any rules of non-fraternization. He wanted... needed this. He'd never wanted anything so much in the whole of his life... and he needed to know if Doyle wanted it too.

If the worst came to the worst Ray could only say no, couldn't he? And if he did, well Bodie'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

So when he pulled up outside of Ray's flat, and he'd switched off the engine he didn't even give Doyle a chance to open the car door before he said, "I was awake you know Ray..."

His voice was completely expressionless and Doyle couldn't gauge his feelings at all, but he could only assume he was in for the row he'd been dreading in the car.

"Thought you were," he managed hoarsely.

He paused, knowing an apology of some kind was in order. "Sorry, mate. Must've thought I'd gone crazy. Didn't mean anthin' by it..." he fumbled, "just happened..."

"Christ, Ray, what an insult," Bodie's voice came back loud and clear, sounding more offended than angry, "think you might at least mean it when you decide to touch me up in the back of a car, don't you?"

Doyle disbelievingly caught the uncertainty... and the humour in his voice, and looked across to discover that Bodie was smiling at him, albeit in an embarrassed kind of way, but he was smiling. Not angry at all. Only embarrassed like himself, and perhaps needing a little reassurance as to his motives.

"Oh yeah, I meant it all right," he said softly.

"Feelin' bad, were you?" Bodie asked, still not sure of him, "s'not like you, wantin' to cuddle up."

Doyle flushed, gave a half-hearted little shrug. "Middle of the night you know..."

"Turned out to be more than a cuddle though, didn't it?"

Bodie was staring straight ahead through the windscreen, "that why you did it, Ray? Cos you were feelin' insecure and needed a warm body next to you?" still needing to know if Ray had merely been playing around on that long, dreamlike journey.

Doyle knew he could say yes to that question, imply that anyone would have done, use the insecurity and boredom as an excuse for his actions and probably never hear another word on the subject from Bodie, because for all his supposed confidence, he knew Bodie was very insecure about things like this and would never have the nerve to raise the subject again.

But that wasn't what Doyle wanted. He wanted to talk to Bodie about it, tell him the truth... let him know how wonderful it had been, maintain the tenuous intimate link that had begun in the car, and maybe allow it to grow into something more. And Bodie's attitude had convinced him that, incredible as it seemed, there was at least a chance Bodie wanted him too.

So he turned to face Bodie, taking in the set profile and the almost tangible tension emanating from his partner. "I'd been sittin' lookin' at you for a while before I touched you," he admitted in the same soft tone of voice, "thinkin' how much you meant to me..." He looked down at his hands. Now he'd actually come to it it was very hard to say. "Then it changed to somethin' else. I wanted you... wanted to be closer... wanted to hold you, and ended up gettin' turned on by it. You're very good to hold, you know that Bodie?"

"So're you," Bodie admitted, looking suddenly so unsure of himself, so intense and hesitant and so different from the Bodie Doyle was used to seeing, all flippancy gone from his voice and manner, "It felt so good I wanted to do it to you too," Bodie was saying, "but I chickened out at the last minute. Thought it might be goin' too far. I mean, with Cowley in the front an' all..." with a small shrug and an awkward swallow, "anythin' could've happened..."

"Yeah, anythin'..." Doyle agreed.

There was a long silence.

"Shall I tell you what I'd like to do now though?" Bodie said at last very hesitantly.

Doyle nodded, heart hammering, seeing the new unexpected softness in the deep blue eyes.

"Like to cuddle up with you again. In bed this time... properly... " Bodie whispered, "how'd you feel about that?"

Wonderful, Doyle wanted to say, feeling like laughing and crying at the same time. "Your place or mine?" he asked instead, as calmly as he could.

He watched Bodie take a shaky, relieved little breath and close his eyes for a second. When he opened them they were suspiciously moist and even darker than before.

He looked pointedly out of the car window up to Doyle's flat. "Oh, yours, I think, sunshine," he said more confidently, "seein' as we're already here."

He opened the car door and got out, then popped his head back inside for a final cheeky, "Well, we've only got six hours off duty, and if we drive over to my place instead, we'll be wastin' precious time, won't we?"

-- THE END --