It had been a bloody awful week one way and another, culminating in Bodie's having to endure a hysterical outburst from his girlfriend on the subject of his lack of consideration in general and his never being on time in particular, after which she'd thrown a few more hometruths at his head and told him, in a voice that grew shriller with every word, just what she thought of being dropped in the middle of nowhere on a bloody cold and wet day which he had led her to believe, erroneously, they were going to spend together.

"But you got a lift home," he protested unwisely.

"And you should've heard what my Mum had to say when I arrived here in a squad car!" Pat retorted. "And you acted like I'm some kind of social disease... don't do that, you said, everyone's looking...just like you were ashamed of me!"

Keeping a tight rein on his temper he said merely. "Well, they were... looking. I mean."

"So what's wrong with them seeing me kissing you? It's not a crime, is it, kissing someone?"

In Bodie's book, yes, public demonstrations of affection coming somewhere after rape and mugging, but he had the sense not to say so.

"You think more of that partner of yours than you do of me," she added, her grievances overcoming wisdom. "Every time I've rung you since then it's been Ray needs me. I've got to be with Ray, until I could spit. Isn't anyone else supposed to have feelings except Ray Doyle?"

Knowing the deep unhappiness Doyle had endured over the unnecessary killing of Mickey Hamilton and his rage that no one appeared to care that the little runt had had to suffer more than his mind could safely take, Bodie had not been prepared to let his friend endure one moment of solitary misery it he could help, offering the comfort of his silent company when be could think of nothing better.

"You don't understand..." he began.

"No. I don't! Ray's got a girlfriend, for God's sake, he doesn't need you fussing round like a mother hen. I've had enough, Bodie, more than enough!"

Inevitably, boredom was setting in, not to be outweighed by her unquestioned attractions as a bedmate. He shrugged, said, "Whatever suits you's OK by me," and made for the door.

"Where the hell d'you think you're going?" Pat snapped, interposing herself between him and freedom. "I haven't finished saying..."

"You've said enough," Bodie said tiredly. "You don't want to go out with me any more and that's OK. I shan't give you any hassle."

Angered further by his not even protesting the end of their brief relationship she said furiously, "Well, of all the cheek! Is that all I mean to you? Just thanks but no thanks? Don't you think you owe me something, even if only an apology for standing me up twice this week? And you turned up late today as well and you never even said you were sorry! I suppose you were with Ray as usual. Why the hell don't you stop worrying about him and let him live his own life for a change? You fuss around him much more than you do about me most of the time and I should think he gets as sick of it as I do."

"I was only half an hour later than I said," he told her lazily, that being negligible compared to what some girlfriends had had to put up with in the past.

"Well, you might have rung..."

"I might, yeah, except there wasn't a phone where I was and the last time I got Julia to ring you you were rude to her!"

Unable to deny this and still suspicious that this Julia was more than someone he happened to work with, she took refuge in sounding as tearful as she could, protesting that she would never have agreed to go out, never mind to bed with him if she'd known he was the sort to walk out like this just when it suited him.

"Not that kind of girl, are you?" Bodie said cynically. "I'd never have guessed!"

Outraged, she gazed up and down him in speechless fury for a moment and then said spitefully, "Well, you aren't any great shakes in bed, are you! You ought to lose at least a stone before you try and get some other poor cow to put up with you. It's like being flattened by a steam-roller, having you on top. Not to mention nearly dying of boredom, waiting for you to come!"

Whitelipped, Bodie thrust her aside and wrenched the door open, ignoring thereafter the insults she continued to shout after him as he walked down the path, determined not to give her the satisfaction of seeing her digs had got to him.

Never at ease with his body in spite of all his laid-back talk he nevertheless hated dieting and deeply resented that all the exercise he was forced to take merely served to increase what he considered to be an already excessive bodyweight by converting fat to heavier muscle. And yes, he had taken for bloody ever the night Hamilton had died, but he'd been too tired really to go out, but the alternative of sitting at home, mentally going over the events of the day, seeing that angry, defeated look Doyle had worn and reliving the effort it had taken to get him to calm down at all, held no attraction.

All set for revenge, the stupid bugger had been, threatening to make the maximum amount of trouble he could for the police over the killing he had known to be unnecessary. Full of anger and disgust that no one had been able to see how much the poor little devil had been hurting, that no one, not even the man's sister, had taken the trouble to listen to Hamilton, Doyle had reacted typically with guilt over his own part in the resulting tragedy.

Should've known better than to try going to bed with Pat that night, of course, but at the time it had seemed the ideal way to forget. And if she'd been a bit more sympathetic it probably would have been, but she had been more demanding than usual that night, probably knowing in spite of his best endeavours not to let her see that his mind was not wholly on her, and in the end it had been purely dogged determination not to give up that had kept him going to the bitter end...and scared as hell all the time that he wasn't going to be able to achieve a climax after all, which hadn't helped.

Shoulders hunched against the cold, hands thrust deep into his jacket pockets, he made for his car and took off, rather too fast for safety in the narrow suburban road. Back in the bright lights of the West End and reluctant to go tamely home to an early and solitary bed he drove to Doyle's flat on the offchance his partner was also at a loose end.

"You alone?" he enquired of the entryphone when at last it was answered, Doyle having taken so long over it that Bodie wondered if maybe Toni was there after all, although he had thought their relationship had lasted even less long than his own had done.



Doyle had woken with a jump when the doorbell shrilled, disoriented and headachy, having fallen asleep on his sofa in the dark because he had felt too lethargic to get up and put on the lights as it grew dusk.

"Of course I'm alone," he mumbled. "Was asleep too, blast you!"

Aware that Doyle had been sleeping badly of late Bodie experienced a brief pang of guilt, but not for over long.

"Bad for you sleeping in the evening," he opined sagely. "Well, are you going to let me in or not? It's bloody freezing out here, damn it."

Knowing his partner was perfectly capable of leaning on the bell until he got his way Doyle pressed the door release, not entirely sorry for the interruption. Bodie was good, undemanding company when you felt so sodding awful about life in general and CI5 in particular and, most important of all, he understood what had pissed you off with things in the first place, which was more than any bird ever did even if you could explain what had happened, which more often than not you couldn't.

Arrived in the warmth of the sitting room Bodie watched his partner drawing the curtains and wondered a little bitterly why it was that Doyle, skinny in spite of his muscularity, nevertheless managed to shed a few pounds whenever he was miserable, while Bodie, who could ill afford to add an extra ounce because it always showed immediately around his waist, put back on in a week what it had taken him three months to lose.

Just look at him now, stretching up to replace a hook that had worked free, not a bit of spare flesh on him anywhere. You could find more fat on a greasy chip than you could on Ray Doyle.

"How come you keep that girlish figure?" he complained, sinking into an armchair, resentful of the unfairness of life.

"What?" Disconcerted, Doyle stared round at him, seeing his own discontent mirrored on the good-looking face that stared back at him.

"Never mind!" Bodie elected not to follow the subject, oddly feeling less able to take teasing from Doyle on the topic than almost anyone else he could think of. "How about a whisky then? No, on second thoughts, make that a cup of tea," he added, noting that the contents of the bottle on the sideboard had gone down considerably since he was here last only yesterday afternoon. You could be certain Cowley'd hold him personally responsible if his partner ended up having a drink problem.

Not being so far gone he couldn't read Bodie like a book, Doyle grinned and went to put the kettle on, pausing in the doorway as the telephone rang and saying, "You answer that! I'm not expecting any calls I want to hear so you can be the first to hear the bad news!"

Bodie did as he was asked, more than a little surprised to find it was Pat on the phone.

"I thought you might be round there when I couldn't get an answer from your place," she said. There was a vicious edge to her voice that Bodie ignored.

"So what do you want?" He did his best to sound polite, though she was the last person he wanted to speak to right at the moment.

"No need to be like that!" He could almost hear her tossing her head in that irritating way of hers. "I only wanted to ask if you'd forgotten we were going away together for Christmas."

He had, completely, even though he had been eagerly looking forward to his first Christmas off in five years. Well, if she thought he was going to go off with her after all she could just think again, because he'd had enough of her and her tantrums, and he said so. Loudly.

"You don't have to shout at me, it isn't my fault, is it?" He was silent. "Well, anyway," she went on quickly, "I thought that you might as well use the reservation if you want. It would save you losing the deposit, and it was rather a lot, if you remember."

As he'd considered the required deposit outrageous when she'd told him how much he had to fork out to book a room for this trip she had been so ruddy secretive about, he was half inclined to tell her that as the whole idea had been hers in the first place she could bloody well reimburse him now. On the other hand, that was unnecessarily harsh and although Bodie was cheerfully prepared to be as rude as he wanted in the general way, he had never liked parting from a girl on bad terms since you never knew when you might not need to resurrect her in the future for some reason.

"I'm not sure..." he demurred, hesitating, not ready just yet to let bygones be bygones.

"Why don't you take Ray away with you instead?" Pat suggested. "I'll send you all the details, shall I, and then you can decide what you want to do."

Actually that wasn't such a bad idea, although he wasn't going to say so to her. As far as he knew Doyle had made no plans and it would do them both good to get right away.

"OK," he agreed, more charitably. "You do that then." He'd have to get right out of London and well out of RT range if he wanted a peaceful holiday, and it was a pity to let such an exorbitant amount of money go to waste. She'd probably not bothered to insure against cancellation but even if she had he didn't feel up to the hassle involved in making a claim when he could solve the problem by using the reservation on his own or with Doyle as she suggested.

"All right, you should get my letter in a day or two. There's still just over a week till Christmas."

"Christ, is that all?" Good job he wasn't going to have to go to the bother of buying her a present then, as he didn't look like having time to wipe his nose over the next few days.

"Problems?" Doyle enquired, coming back into the room with the requested tea. "Doesn't Cowley know even supermen need to get their heads down occasionally?"

"Wasn't work. It was Pat." Bodie took his tea and sat down.

"Thought you were going out with her tonight," Doyle remembered. "What happened, didn't you turn up? That's a bit off, even for you, sunshine."

"Turned up late and got an earful," Bodie said cheerfully, feeling all of a sudden that it was the best thing to happen to him in a long time. "So she gave me the push."

"And rang up to say she'd have you back? She must be crazy."

"Not quite, no." Bodie changed the subject. Time enough over the next few days to sell Doyle on the idea of going away. If he rushed at it now the contrary bastard would only find a dozen reasons not to agree: much better to ease it gently into the conversation as a fait accompli and not give him either the time or the opportunity to argue!

But if he could have seen the triumphant expression on Pat's face as she put the phone down he might have thought twice about her motives in ringing him at all.

If he thinks so much of that ruddy partner of his, she told herself savagely, then he can have the chance to demonstrate it, can't he.

All the same, it was a pity she couldn't be a fly on the wall when they got there!



"Where the hell are we off to, the bloody North Pole or something?" Doyle grumbled as they climbed back into Bodie's car after a belated lunch. He'd been expecting to find they'd arrived hours ago and was getting both tired and bored. He made Bodie drive again; if the stupid sod insisted on their going so far then he could damn well do most of the work.

"Yeah, off to see Santa Claus, aren't we!" Bodie told him brightly, not yet ready to admit where they were headed. He'd been disconcerted to say the least to discover the hotel they were booked into was in Newcastle and wondered what on earth it had to offer that had made Pat so keen on the notion.

"Well it can't get much colder, though that's small comfort," Doyle shivered, turning the heater up another notch. "Hope wherever we're going has central heating."

For the price it was going to cost they were probably burning fivers to heat the place, but Bodie did not say this aloud.

"Better watch out, could be black ice around now it's starting to get dark," Doyle advised, not sorry he'd refused to take another turn at the wheel. The A1 was heavy with traffic this Christmas Eve, either going away for the festive season, or hurrying to get home. Come to think of it, why the hell hadn't he stayed at home as he'd intended? Of all the mad ideas, tearing several hundred miles northwards in Bodie's company was the daftest way yet he'd found to spend Christmas, and he'd found some crazy ones in his time. He said so.

But Bodie could hear the smile in his voice and refused to be drawn. It was good to see Doyle getting back to normal again and well worth the expense of treating him to five star hotel accommodation if it helped complete the cure. It had always hurt Bodie to see his partner so deeply unhappy, and this time his moodiness had reached unprecedented levels. Even the most unobservant among their fellow agents had made some comment, and Cowley had been moved to speak to Bodie about it, expressing approval when he heard what Bodie had planned for them.

When it became obvious they were headed for Newcastle, Doyle did not hesitate to make his opinion of the town clear to the dullest intellect, scarcely pausing for breath for several minutes.

"Can't be that bad," Bodie said with false heartiness, as soon as he could get a word in edgeways. "Besides, these places lay on all sorts of jollifications, parties, discos--and the food's bound to be good, too. We can pull a couple of birds tomorrow and have a great time."

He concentrated on finding his route through the one-way system.

---

An hour later, having finally achieved their objective after locating and driving around it for ages without being able to find a way actually to get to it, he faced the bloke at reception in growing annoyance.

Ever since he and Doyle had arrived and he'd given his name the man had seemed to be carefully not saying something, and Bodie had not the least idea what was going on. He filled in the form required to register, lifted their bags from force of habit, and followed Doyle and the porter to the lift. Even the ruddy porter seemed to be staring rather hard at anything save the pair of them, but the minute the door was opened for them he had his answer.

"Bloody 'ell!" Doyle exploded, backing off. "You trying to sell me off to white slavers, or something? What the hell's going on?"

"A fantasy hotel, that's what they call it," Bodie said wearily, returning from his chat with the manager, "all the rooms are decorated differently and you pick the one you fancy. He says it's very popular, especially with honeymooners." He glared at Doyle's grin, having endured enough already in the way of suppressed amusement.

"And your Pat chose this one?" Doyle looked about him, still gurgling with laughter. "Says a lot about her, dunnit!"

Draped about in silk, the room was done up as a palace straight out of the Arabian Nights. It even had several sets of costumes hung in the wardrobe for the guests to wear while playing out their fantasies. And why the devil Pat had thought he would enjoy dressing up to play games was beyond Bodie, stripping off for them much more his style. And the little cow had obviously sent him here with Ray with malice aforethought, he realised grimly, remembering her snide remarks on the subject of his caring more for Ray than he did for her. And why not! Ray was worth a dozen of some stupid little tart any day of the week, especially creased up with laughter as he was now. That alone was worth any humiliation Bodie had had to face.

"What on earth did you say to the manager when you spoke to him?" Doyle giggled, Bodie, scarlet with mingled anger and embarrassment, striding off to interview the powers that be as to what sort of a hotel they'd landed in being a sight he was going to cherish for a long time.

"Told him my wife made the reservation without telling me what kind of place it was," Bodie told him.

"Oh, very clever! And did you tell him why she didn't come with you?"

"Gone to her grandmother's funeral, hasn't she!" Bodie said, unblushing.

"And why haven't you gone too?"

"Don't get on with my mother-in-law, do I! I should stop laughing or you'll give yourself a hernia in a minute and I haven't brought me spare truss. You don't think he believed me, do you? He's got us two pegged, ducky, I can tell you!"

"Oh well," Doyle said philosophically. "Worse things happen at sea, you keep on telling me. Did you think to ask whether they're still serving dinner in the restaurant."

"No restaurant..."

"What!" Doyle yelped, lunch only a fading memory. "But I'm starving! And what's a place like this doing not having a restaurant, for Chrissake?"

"Relying on room service," Bodie told him. "I think they don't expect us to want to come out of our rooms much. There is a disco," be added hurriedly, seeing Doyle's face darken further.

"Yeah, all full of couples, I daresay!" Doyle said disgustedly. "Fat chance of getting off with anyone here, is there"

Forced to agree. Bodie said lamely, "Well, there's always the telly."

"Sound of bleedin' Music, kid's programmes and disaster movies!" Doyle predicted glumly.

He was all too right. A check with the teletext revealed nothing that appealed to either man.

"Didn't bring a pack of cards, did you?" Bodie asked hopefully. "Oh well, it was just a thought. Come on, then. Let's get room service moving. At least we can eat. Where's the menu?"

"Bloody 'ell," Doyle yelped, picking up the card from the table by the bed and casting a quick eye over it. "Will you look at these prices! They must be expecting ruddy millionaires."

"Go on, order what you like. My treat!" Bodie said swiftly, hoping to avoid having to listen to Doyle in full flow on the subject of value for money.

"You mean that?" Ever suspicious, Doyle narrowed his eyes as he looked up.

"Up to and including champers." Bodie was feeling reckless. "Go on, you do the ordering. I'm going to have a bath."

Being occupied in making his selection Doyle missed the involuntary gasp that escaped his partner as he walked into the bathroom, swiftly closing the door behind him to prevent Doyle catching a glimpse of the interior. If he had to bath in a red, heart-shaped object large enough for two he preferred to do it in decent privacy. But the bathroom door had no lock: presumably it had been felt the occupants would feel no need for the delicacy of locked doors. There wasn't even the option of a shower.

Resigned, Bodie stripped off.

Entering for a much-needed pee a few minutes later Doyle fell about so much he was in danger of ending up in the bath with his partner.

"If you could only see yourself," he spluttered, "sitting there in that thing..."

"I can. Can't ruddy well get away from myself, can I?" Bodie indicated the mirrored walls. "I wondered at first why the bog was hidden away in the corner, but it's the only spot in the room where you can't see yourself in the fucking mirror."

"That's a relief. Never been kinky that way and this is no time to start," Doyle told him, making for the alcove where the be was situated. "Don't be all night in there or I shall get impatient and get in with you."

"Feel free." Bodie leant back, folding his arms behind his head. He was just beginning to relax in the warmth and had no intention of hurrying. Having done the bulk of the driving he was tired and stiff and hot water was just what the doctor ordered. "There's plenty of room. How long until dinner arrives, did they say?"

"About half an hour for what I ordered."

"And what was that?"

"Something appropriate to the room," Doyle told him, grinning.

"What, goat's meat, sheep's eyes and cous-cous?"

"Along those lines, yes."

Bodie sank beneath the water with a protesting groan.



For once more eager to eat than his partner seemed to be, Doyle left the bath before Bodie was ready to do so, wandering into the bedroom with a towel slung round his hips. He had intended to slip into a dressing gown since there seemed little chance of any social activity during what remained of the evening but when he opened the wardrobe door and saw the costumes hanging within he grinned to himself and took a couple out. Might as well try them as not since they were there!

Emerging from the water only because his skin was starting to wrinkle Bodie dried himself off and re-entered the bedroom still towelling his hair on one of the huge bath-sheets and asking in muffled tones from beneath its voluminous folds whether their meal had arrived or not.

"All present and correct," Doyle assured him, striking a pose and waiting for his partner to come out from under his temporary tent and take a proper look at him.

Giving a final rub Bodie turned, lowering his arms... and stood with jaw hanging as he took the vision in.

Dressed in an embroidered cheesecloth shirt bound at the waist with an orange cummerbund, and a pair of baggy cotton trousers tucked into soft boots, Doyle ought to have looked ridiculous. Instead he was the stuff of dreams and, unexpectedly shattered by a wash of pure lust, Bodie was completely unable to hide his reaction, especially from someone who knew him as well as Doyle did.

The moment stretched, neither man breathing.

"Wow!" Bodie said at last, laughing shakily. "The poor man's Rudolph Valentino, eh?"

Still disconcerted by the naked desire he had seen in those blue eyes Doyle nodded vaguely.

"Thought I might as well try 'em on," he agreed, moistening suddenly dry lips and castigating himself as a fool for feeling nervous. What the hell did he have to be nervous about? "Go on," he added, jerking his head in the direction of the wardrobe, "there's several other things in there. I'm not doing this on my own."

"Don't be daft," Bodie muttered, holding the towel carefully in front of his treacherous body and wondering what the hell had happened to his libido to make him react like this.

"You won't get anything to eat until you do," Doyle threatened, standing in front of the loaded trolley, set up with its specially designed leaves opened up to make a table for two, "so I should hurry up if I were you 'cause it's getting cold."

Too shaken to think of any argument other than his own disinclination to dress up which he knew Doyle would happily disregard, Bodie ordered his disintegrating wits to pull themselves together, and numbly did as he was told. At least the bagginess of the eastern trousers might hide a multitude of sins, which triumph of optimism over reality served to keep him from diving into the wardrobe and refusing to come out until life had returned to normal.

Clad at last in the first outfit that had come to hand, Bodie pulled on the soft boots with their upcurving toes (they were at least one size too large but he wasn't going anywhere in them), searched in vain for buttons to close the shirt modestly, and sat at the table with a stricken expression that begged Doyle not to take the mickey out of the afflicted.

In fact Doyle had never felt less like teasing, being too overcome first by Bodie's reaction to his appearance and secondly by his own to Bodie's. What on earth was a grown man, one of Cowley's finest, doing practically dribbling over the sight of his partner clothed in simple white silk? But that loose-fitting shirt, open all way down to the cummerbund neatly encasing Bodie's middle, was doing the oddest things to his concentration.

Bodie never knew what he ate that evening, though doubtless the laundress who ended up removing what he picked up on the full, trailing sleeves of his shirt could have told him. He only recalled his heart performing complicated manoeuvres every time his eyes met Doyle's, until in the end he dared not look up at all.

Doyle claimed it was the champagne that was responsible for what happened after the meal.

Both of them knew that was untrue.

Having swallowed the last drop of Turkish coffee and bagged the only remaining petit four Doyle got to his feet, wandered round the table, perched on the arm of Bodie's chair and slid his hand into that invitingly open shirtfront.

The last of Bodie's coffee sprayed over the empty plates and cups.

"Tch! tch!" Doyle reproved. "Can't take you anywhere, can I?" And he wriggled his fingers gently.

Mouth open to speak, Bodie gasped instead.

"Like that, do you?" Doyle explored further. "Your skin's like velvet," he said, mildly surprised. "Nice to touch." he approved. "Especially here. And here!"

"Pack it in, will you!" Bodie managed to get his lips to work.

"Nope! 's nice," Doyle said, all sunny insouciance.

Snatching at sanity before it eluded him altogether, Bodie grabbed hold of Doyle's wrist and attempted to free himself. Doyle resisted, tugged, over-balanced and fell against the trolley which rolled away, precipitating him onto the floor, pulling the tablecloth and everything on it with him as he went. Trying to save the remains of their dinner while shaking Doyle off proved too much for Bodie's equilibrium and he went down too, landing on top of his partner who gave an oof of protest.

Face to face they regarded one another.

"You've got a lump of Turkish delight in your armpit," Bodie said shakily, and liberated it. He loved creme de menthe Turkish delight.

So did his partner.

As Bodie popped the sweet into his mouth and began to chew Doyle reached up and pulled his head down, latching onto Bodie with lips that should have belonged to a lamprey and attempted to take it from him.

The next event was inevitable. In fact, Bodie found himself wondering dazedly why in heaven's name it had taken them so long to reach this moment when from the first touch of Doyle's mouth he knew that they had both been moving towards this from the day they met.

"That's the best kiss I've ever 'ad," Doyle said with due solemnity, surfacing.

"Go on!" Bodie was feeling reckless. "You only say that because it was peppermint flavoured. I'll bet you won't feel that way in the morning!"

"I'll let you know," Doyle promised, arching up to him.

Amidst the wreckage of plates, glasses, congealing food and coffee dregs that surrounded them Bodie's face wore a grin that lit the room.

"Won't look like that when they come to clear away, will you!" Doyle said, his own smile more fatuous than a newly-born's father as he propped himself up with one elbow on Bodie's chest the better to view the results of their mutual handiwork. Talk about the earth moving! He'd never before experienced such soul-deep perfect communion during a simple sexual act.

The shining eyes lost a little of their glow. "Are they likely to?"

"Can't leave it 'ere all night, can they?" Doyle said, taking another lick at a nipple whose taste he had already learned to relish.

Panicked, Bodie struggled out from under his partner and began feverishly collecting up all the debris one-handed and piling it onto the trolley. His other hand was occupied in holding onto the opened trousers that he had modestly hauled up as he rose.

"What are you doing? Come back 'ere, I haven't finished with you yet!" Doyle told him, watching from under narrowed lids

"If I put this lot out in the corridor then they won't come barging in, will they!" Bodie said, not unreasonably. "Dunno 'bout you, but I like to concentrate on what I'm doing at times like this."

"I noticed," Doyle nodded, having been treated to a loving exploration that had left him speechless for once; but it was definitely his turn now, and he wasn't going to let Bodie escape. However, since Bodie had got up from the floor it did seem a shrewd move to shift the site of operations to somewhere softer and less prone to draughts. Never one for convention, Doyle was nevertheless as fond of his creature comforts as the next man, and unless there was some good reason for having it off on the carpet---such as suddenly finding out both you and your partner were straight as a bentwood rocker and not having time to worry about anything except convincing him his very agreeable actions were fully and ecstatically welcomed---he generally preferred a more comfortable arrangement.

Having done up his trousers in order to have both hands free Bodie peered out cautiously before opening the door wide enough to push the shattered remains of their meal outside and, seeing that the occupants of the room next door had done the same with theirs, swiftly exchanged trolleys and shot back inside. Let someone else share the embarrassment!

"Stay there for a moment and let me look at you properly," Doyle told him as he turned from closing the door. "You know, you look bloody magnificent in that rig."

"Pillock!" Bodie said, making for the bed.

"I mean it," Doyle said, slightly hurt at being so rudely received. "I wanna see you in one of those turbans too, before we leave here."

"You should be so lucky!"

"And you ought to wear shirts like that more often, too. I've never understood why you button up to the neck the way you do."

"'cause I'm a well brought up lad, not like some I could mention!" Bodie looked pointedly down at the sprawl of limbs gracefully disposed about the bed cushions. By now Doyle was wearing nothing save a silver chain and a come hither look. Both suited him.

He beckoned. "Come on, I'm getting lonely."

Now that the first madness had cooled Bodie was feeling unaccountably shy and he lay down beside Doyle without removing any further clothing.

Doyle grinned. "You'll be wanting the light off next."

His partner looked defensive. "And what's wrong with wanting the light off?"

"Nothing," Doyle conceded. "Can be very romantic, gropin' about in the dark. Newer know what you might lay your hand on. But I want to look at you."

"Whatever for?"

Eyes wide. Doyle said, "If you can't work that out for yourself then you must be thicker than I thought and I don't believe that's possible."

"Idiot!"

"Why? Because I find you sexy to look at all of a sudden? I didn't notice you thinkin' it was daft when it was you lustin' over me just now."

"That's different."

"What? Why?"

"Because it is."

"That's no reason. Well, is it?"

Bodie made no reply, shifting slightly on the bed and looking away.

"Come on," Doyle offered an encouraging tug at the tightly fastened cummerbund, "strip off, gorgeous, and let me look at you properly. You didn't give me a chance before."

"Give over!" Bodie pushed his hands away uncomfortably. "I'm not lying here while you make sarky comments about my waistline, thank you very much!"

"Would I?" Doyle said, wounded.

"More than likely, yes."

All of a sudden it was borne upon Doyle his partner was serious, that he honestly found it ludicrous that someone should think him worth looking at: he gazed at him in astonishment.

"There's nothing wrong with your waistline, sunshine," he said gently. "I've seen it before, remember? In the bath earlier on, and more often than I can remember in the showers at the gym. It's just that this time...well," he grinned, "things do seem to have changed around here and now I want to appreciate what I'm seeing and check that it's really as good as I remember."

"What's an aardvark?" Bodie said, inconsequentially.

"Dunno." Doyle thought about it vaguely. "Sort of pig, innit?"

"There you are, you see."

"There I am where?" Doyle demanded, confused.

"He called me an aardvark," Bodie said, lying back and closing his eyes.

"Who did?"

"Your pal Sylvester."

"What? When did you meet... oh yeah, I remember. When did he call you an aardvark?" Doyle bristled, ready to do battle if need be.

"'Who's the aardvark?' he said," Bodie told him. "And you said, 'he's my partner'."

"Did I? Well, that doesn't mean I think you are one, you know, if that's what's worrying you. Anyway, what is an aardvark?"

"I just asked you that."

"So you did. Why does it matter?"

"If people think I look like some sort of pig then you don't want to sit there and stare at me," Bodie said with finality.

"Just because some villain makes an insulting comment..." Doyle began indignantly, breaking off as he took a proper look at his partner, at his face this time, and wondered why on earth he'd never realised before that Bodie had a hang-up about his body. Ought to have realised, he admonished himself, the way he covers himself up to the neck all the time. But all the same, he's crazy because he is bloody gorgeous and I must've been blind for the last five years or something.

Many people who met Bodie formed the impression he had about as much charm and sensitivity as a charging rhino; Doyle had been one of their number for a few brief hours at the beginning and even though he had seen through the facade quicker than most he could still be taken by surprise when Bodie displayed an oddly touching vulnerability. Not that he did very often, being a person who managed to appear in complete control in almost any situation, but Doyle knew that he and Cowley were two of the privileged few who were allowed to see that Master Bodie had feelings too.

But to discover that Bodie, of all people, did not realise just how fuckin' beautiful he was--Doyle shook his head in amazement. Still, he told himself, look on the bright side, it's going to be fun convincing him he's wrong.

"Cummere," he said gently. "You can think I'm crazy if you like, but humour me. Perhaps I'm kinky for aardvarks an' I never knew it, but I really do want to look at every bit of you...sort of make it mine. Put my mark on it."

"If I end up covered in love-bites..."

"I'll be the one to explain to Cowley 'ow you got 'em," Doyle promised. "Now, just let me undo that cummerbund, will you? That'll do for a start."



If Bodie was not cured by the time they fell asleep at least the remedy had been liberally applied, Doyle having lyricised over every inch of his anatomy, including one or two intimate areas that (to Bodie's recollection) had never previously been inspected.

He had also been fucked almost senseless.

And, most astonishing of all, he had revelled in every minute of it.

"You've done this before!" he said, not accusingly but with an air of challenge.

"Haven't." Doyle was lying back, boneless and equally astonished. "Just used my imagination a bit."

"Oh, is that what it's called? You sure you haven't done this before? I wouldn't mind if you had," Bodie hastened to add.

"You mean I didn't have to save myself for you after all?" Doyle asked. "What a bloody sell! I could've been putting it about all round the Portobello Road if I'd known."

Bodie at last raised the energy to lift his head. "Why the Portobello Road?"

"Why not?"

Nuzzling into the warmth of an armpit Bodie said casually, "Was it OK?"

"No. It was fuckin' wonderful! Just like you."

"Good," said Bodie, and promptly fell asleep.

Opening a bleary eye to the rattle of china Bodie shot upright, fearing Doyle had been idiot enough to have ordered morning tea, sinking back im relief when he found it was only Doyle himself at the kettle provided.

Bringing it to the bedside Doyle put down both cups and climbed in on Bodie's side, pushing him over out of his

"It must be lerv," he said happily, "because I still respect you this morning. Happy Christmas, sweetheart."

"What do you mean, still?" Bodie demanded. "You've never respected me before."

"Well. I didn't know I loved you before, did I? Come on, sit up and take your tea."

Sipping to the familiar accompaniment of Doyle's siphoning noises, Bodie asked, "Do you mean that?"

"What? That I love you? Course I do," Doyle said matter-of-factly. "Suppose I must have done for a long time. How about you?"

"Suppose I must too," Bodie muttered. "Pat said..."

"Oh yeah, what did Pat say?"

"That I worried more about you than I did about her," Bodie said, slightly shame-faced.

"Only right and proper," Doyle approved. "Well, where is it then?"

"Where's what?" Bodie looked first at his partner and then down at himself. "Where it should be, of course, it isn't that cold this morning. Not in here, anyway."

"My pressie. It is Christmas Day, or had you forgotten?"

"Can't 'ave Christmas in 'ere," Bodie said, shocked. "Ramadan, maybe."

"You haven't got me a pressie, have you, you mean devil."

"Isn't treating you to three nights in five star luxury enough?"

"S'pose it'll have to be." Doyle allowed his mouth to droop. "All the same, Christmas isn't Christmas without any presents, is it!"

"You've been reading Little Women again."

"What?"

"Never mind," Bodie said hurriedly, not prepared to go into how he recognised the unconscious quotation. "I suppose you'd've liked a stocking as well."

"Would've been nice, yeah." Doyle sighed.

"Tried looking under your pillow, have you?"

"That's the tooth fairy, not Father Christmas."

"Well he might've brought you a new upper set. You look as though you need 'em." Bodie stared pointedly at the chipped incisor.

"Just a small token would've done," Doyle said plaintively. "I don't expect much."

"Just as well, innit!"

"You mean you really haven't got me anything? How embarrassing."

"I'm not embarrassed," Bodie assured him.

"No, but I will be when I give you mine."

"Thought I'd 'ad it last night!" Bodie leered. "Course, it wasn't gift-wrapped."

"This one is." And leaning over Bodie, squashing him down into the mattress and effectively restricting his circulation, he fished about under the bed and retrieved a brightly wrapped parcel.

Bodie eyed it suspiciously. "Not going to explode, is it?"

"Probably not."

"Probably?"

"You can't be certain of anything in this life," Doyle reminded him.

"Yes, you can." Bodie was suddenly utterly serious. "You can be certain of me. Always, if you want me."

Eyes unprecedently bright Doyle was, for once, bereft of words. But his arms were still functioning and he threw them round Bodie and hugged him until their ribs cracked.

"That mean you do?" Bodie asked. "Just checking," he added quickly as a look of burning admonishment was bent upon him.

"Give it you in writing if you like."

"We'll get the legal department to draw up a marriage settlement, shall we?"

"Good idea. Aren't you going to open your parcel?"

"Stop changing the subject. Are you going to marry me?"

"Well I'd hoped for a more romantic proposal than that..." Doyle sighed wistfully, "but, yeah, OK."

"That's all right then," Bodie said, and began ripping open the paper.

-- THE END --

Christmas 1990