The sounds of mad merriment went on into the wee hours as the men and women of CI5 partied their way through yet another Friday night and early Saturday morning. Nicholas Murphy, host of the raucous bash, slipped out of the door and collapsed on the stoop where he peered down the stairs and sipped his champagne. He raised a shaky toast to his pet guinea pig (in whose honor the party was being thrown) and choked as a friendly hand descended upon his shoulder.

"'Lo, mate," a familiar voice slurred as Ray Doyle flopped down beside him. "Noisy enough for you?" he tried to ask, clinking his glass against Murphy's.

Murphy blinked at him. "Too noisy to think in there," he stated with drunken authority. "'Sides, my landlady is gonna be up soon to throw all of us out. Always does."

"Not everybody, Murph," Doyle promptly objected, waving an aimless hand in the air.

"No?" Murphy was almost interested enough to know how Doyle had arrived at this conclusion, but his throat was dry. He buried his nose in his glass and was therefore unprepared when Doyle slapped him on the back.

"Can't throw all of us out, mate. You live here!" Doyle announced, delighted with his logic.

"Not after this party," Murphy mourned, overcome with sorrow at the picture in his mind of him selling matchsticks on the corner, wrapped up in old shawls and starving. "I hate sellin' stuff," he informed Doyle in a tragic voice.

Doyle blinked owlishly at him and tried to remember if he'd said anything about selling anything. Finally he said the only thing he could think of to say to ease Murphy's obvious distress. "Huh??"

"On a corner, Doyle. You know, sellin' stuff like matches." Murphy was getting sleepy with all the heavy thinking, and Doyle was obviously just getting more confused. So Murphy just patted him on the top of his hopelessly curly head. He dragged himself up by the handrail, and lurched back inside the doorway, announcing in a foggy voice, "My landlady is a close relative of Cowley's, and said if any more parties went on past 3 am I would have to find a new home."

Various suggestions greeted this statement, most of them impracticable and obscene. Then the group of operatives, secretaries and support staff amiably began to gather their things together, and a general retreat began down the stairs. Doyle came ambling back in and executed a fairly agile swerve around MacCabe and a brunette wrapped around each other and attempting to get through the door at the same time. Doyle did fine until the rug reached up and grabbed his ankle. He promptly went down in a heap of pillows, fortunately just vacated by Mac and friend. He sighed, snuggled down into the pillows and serenely went to sleep. His partner Bodie snickered into his companion's neck where he rested for a boozy moment, then raised his head and blearily eyed his departing host. Murphy had an armload of glasses and ashtrays balanced precariously, while he took tiny steps to keep his balance and the glassware upright and in one piece. But the pillows and Doyle's feet proved too big a stumbling block even for Murphy, who had looked up at the critical moment to answer Bodie's comment on juggling.

CRASH! Doyle woke with a start, leaping to his feet and immediately grabbing his head, moaning. "Bloody 'ell," He whispered. "What did you 'ave to do that for, Murph?"

Murphy, who had by some very athletic twisting managed to have most of the fragile stuff land on him, lay on the floor and groaned low. "Why didn't I become a solicitor like my father wanted? I could have normal friends then."

Doyle looked at him in surprise. "Solicitors, Murph? They don't 'ave friends, mate, just clients. You're better off with mates like Bodie and me," he finished confidently as he got down on his hands and knees and began to gather up plates and glasses.

Bodie sighed heavily and unhanded the unknown lady who had latched onto him a while ago, levered himself off the couch and reached a hand down to his crawling partner. "Give it over, sunshine. You're too drunk to be trusted to get 'em to the kitchen in one piece," he informed Doyle sternly.

Doyle snorted indignantly, but obediently handed over an enormous pile which Bodie found much larger, dirtier and wetter than he had imagined. He carried his burden into the kitchen and dumped the entire mess into the soapy water Murphy had just run. Then he gently ran fingers over his stained shirt front.

"I'm gonna kill Doyle," he said calmly to his grinning mate. Then with a faint air of unease, he demanded, "What's the brunette's name?"

Murphy smirked, but answered, "Laura."

Bodie sighed. "She's new, isn't she?" he commented wryly.

"Two days," Murphy informed him happily. It wasn't often that Bodie let himself get cornered like this by a well-meaning female.

"I think she thinks she's goin' home with me," Bodie said faintly. Murphy eyed him sternly and demanded sharply, "You didn't..."

"Never, mate. I don't raise false hopes. Not my style anymore, Murph." Bodie's expression was a masterpiece of wounded innocence, then he sobered. "Not about to crock up this relationship by foolin' around."

Murphy smiled at him, nodded and sighed, accepting his role in the farce. "Suppose it's too much to ask for Doyle to help me?"

Bodie's snort was not unexpected, and Murphy surrendered somewhat ungraciously. He walked into the livingroom and found Laura watching Doyle trying to unravel a throw pillow and losing. "Laura?"

She looked up quickly, but her wide smile dimmed when she saw Murphy and not Bodie. Murphy felt wounded by their reaction; after all, he wasn't exactly ugly himself. He found it easier to inform her that Bodie was asleep in the kitchen and she had better make other arrangements to get home.

She looked disappointed, then irritated and snapped, "My car is down on the street."

Murphy's eyes narrowed. OH CHRIST[ ANOTHER ONE TRYIN' TO LEAD BODIE BACK ONTO THE STRAIGHT AND NARROW! His smile cooled, and he gently but firmly shoved her out the door in record time. He turned and saw Ray sprawled back on the pillows, watching him with a wry smile on his face.

"Never say die, mate," Murphy offered drily.

"Suppose we should be honored the birds keep tryin'" Doyle commented. He got up and stretched, running a hand through his mop of hair. "Christ, I 'ad a good bit." He grinned at Murphy, "And a good time was 'ad by all," he quipped.

"It's been a while since you two have shown up for one of the squad bashes, Doyle. We're honored." Murphy was pleased.

Doyle shrugged. "Got tired of the crusaders and people who want to cure us," he muttered tiredly. Then with one of his incredibly swift changes of mood, a gamin grin appeared. "Besides, Murgatroyd is my favorite guinea pig."

"Hail to Murgatroyd!" Bodie observed from the doorway. He sauntered over and slung a companionable arm around Doyle's neck and said, "Had a little too much to drive, did we?"

"Maybe you did, sunshine," Doyle snickered. "We could walk," he offered half-heartedly.

Bodie winced. Murphy chuckled, "What, walk through the streets of London at 3am and let some poor misguided mugger have a try at you two? No, no, I've got an extra bed you can have for the rest of the night." An odd smile touched his mouth, but Bodie was looking at Doyle questioningly and Doyle was nodding and smiling at Bodie.

The matter settled, the three men tidied up the room as best they could, and Doyle went into the kitchen to dry the glasses Murphy washed. Bodie was elected to get towels from the airing closet and use the shower first. He found the bedroom and was delighted to discover a huge bed as the main piece of furniture. He placed the towels on the dresser and disappeared into the bathroom, whistling cheerfully. Coming out a bit later, he could hear voices and knew Doyle would be up soon. He threw his towel on the bed and watched in shock as the surface of the bed shimmied. A strange glint appeared in his eye as he carefully placed the flat of his hand on the bed's surface and slapped. The ripples confirmed his thought.

A WATERBED! A huge grin briefly appeared as he glanced at the door. His partner was going to have a fit. Bodie couldn't wait. He heard footsteps approaching, hurriedly sat on the far edge of the bedframe and picked up his shoe, fiddling with it to kill suspicion.

Doyle bounced in, much revived by the activity of drying the dishes and gave the bed his own look of approval.

"Bed's big enough for an orgy," Doyle announced, and leered cheerfully at Bodie's broad back. Bodie only nodded, and Doyle eyed him narrowly as he began to unbutton his shirt. His eyes remained on his partner; the strange rigid posture signified something amiss, but he couldn't tell what it was. So he continued to strip and did what he always did when undressing for bed. He hopped on the bed to take his shoes off. But this time the bed bounced back, and he was flung around over the surface like a beachball.

"Aaaaahhhh!" He grabbed onto the frame and waited out the tidal wave. The bed began to calm, and new he registered the loud thump that had accompanied his wild ride. He very cautiously crawled and bobbed over the crazy wiggling surface and peered over the side. His face immediately creased into a wicked elfin grin. There lay Bodie, clutching his shoe to his breast, looking like a startled fish.

"It was supposed to be a surprise for YOU!" he growled.

Doyle blinked, and the wicked grin became a snigger as he crawled off the bed and hoisted Bodie from the floor. Ray picked up the abandoned towel and draped it over Bodie's face. "What's sauce for the goose, ducky," he retorted gleefully as he grabbed his towel and fled to the bathroom, just as Bodie's towel hit the closing door.

Bodie chuckled, and gingerly climbed into the bed. He lay peacefully listening to the shower noises and waiting for his lover. He gently patted the bed and rode the small swell. Ray's not too crazy about boats. This could become interesting. His smiled widened.

Doyle came out of the bathroom, clad on one towel and vigorously drying his hair with another. He paused at the foot of the bed and stated, "It's a bloody waterbed, Bodie."

"Yeah," Bodie agreed casually. "Just you keep it in mind, sunshine. It's not a ruddy trampoline," he warned.

"Tell IT then, mate," Doyle replied as he abandoned both towels and cautiously approached his side of the bed. He tried several attempts to simply climb onto the mattress, but each time the bed moved he would just freeze. Bodie got tired of all the hesitation and dragged him onto it. A mock wrestling match promptly ensued, but the battle ended when the bed joined in. They both found they had to hand onto each other for dear life.

"You know, Bodie," Doyle observed shakily, "I've never been seasick in a bed before."

"And now's no time to start, Raymond," Bodie advised firmly, tightening his hold on the slim strong body. Doyle wriggled and Bodie Promptly rolled on top of him, anchoring him with his heavier compact body.

The bed waved a bit, but it didn't get too upset and the two lay motionless and content. Doyle grunted and poked at his lover, and Bodie eased over with a sigh of regret. His hand crept over Ray's chest and slowly it began to caress the smooth muscles. Circling over the aureole and the nipple, the hand then traced the hairline down the body. Ray caught it, jostling the bed and stilling the movements of both men.

"You've got to be jokin', mate!" Doyle protested. "I don't know about you, but I 'ave to move when I make love, and this bloody bed looks to get into the act. 'ell, it could bounce the two of us right out of it."

Bodie just grinned smugly. His hand was still wandering and he found conclusive evidence that Doyle was turned on in spite of his professed reluctance to try out the waterbed. Bodie gently applied knowledgeable pressure and Ray leaned closer and moaned, nuzzling into Bodie's neck, where he kissed his way to the wide softly smiling mouth. They both forgot the bed for a good long time. Memory returned when Bodie surged closer and Doyle did the same. The bed promptly bounced them both where they were intending to be, but it gave them pause.

"I heard these things were an experience to make love on," Bodie muttered into Ray's ear.

Doyle snickered, "I'D 'eard the same, mate. I suppose these things 'ave revolutionized the rhythm method." Bodie groaned and shut him up in the way he'd learned worked best. This time when the bed joined in Bodie was prepared and found there was a certain knack to it. Fortunately, he discovered it before his or Ray's backs gave out. He gave a victorious snort and Doyle pushed him away slightly, when he came up for air. He lay back with his hands behind his head and chuckled.

"Figgered it out, 'ave you?"

Bodie just smirked and deliberately bounced. Doyle was tossed against him and Bodie took full advantage. Ray was a fast learner though, and soon evened the score by changing the rhythm without warning. They experimented for a while, loving and playing the fool until exhaustion and the drinks finally caught up with them.

---

He slowly opened one eye and glared at the errant sunbeam that had awakened him. A gentle snore from below his chin further irritated him. Bodie should be awake and in extreme pain, too. It just wasn't fair. He ran a hand over the cover and replayed the evening's fun and games. He wondered idly if Bodie would surprise him with a waterbed one day. Bodie loved to buy him crazy, mad presents, but this would be a bit much. Besides, Bodie was rather conventional for all his flash. He suspected their relationship was about as unconventional as Bodie could handle for the time being.

He looked down at the sleek dark head with open affection, and suddenly the soft look was replaced by an evil gleam. He stealthily slipped his leg out from under the covers and raised it upwards until his foot was almost over his head. Then he let it drop full dead weight. Bodie, sleeping peacefully, was bounced as if he was on a mad trampoline. His eyes flew open and he stared about in shock.

"What the bloody hell!!" He demanded, then his eyes narrowed at the laughing man collapsed on him, and a reluctant answering grin spread over his face. Hr grabbed Doyle and caught him in a vise grip as he tried to slip away from the bed. The bed took exception, creating a veritable tidal wave. They rode out the swells, and when the waves had subsided to a gentle rocking, Bodie's warm breath tickled into Ray's neck as he whispered, "Impatient this morning, aren't we?" Doyle kissed him enthusiastically, then broke the kiss and burrowed into the strong body.

"I feel awful, absolutely bloody awful," he mumbled faintly.

"Me too," Bodie admitted weakly. He tightened his arms around Ray and ran light fingertips down his spine, causing Ray to shiver and move even closer. Then Bodie ran light touched over Ray's face. And up into his hair where he began to massage gently. Doyle sighed in relief, and they stayed still in the rocking bed in a sort of peace rarely found in their lives. A sharp knock on the door had them both alert and wary.

"Cowley on the R/T for either Goldilocks or Cinders!" Murphy was obscenely cheerful as he called through the door.

Doyle fell back on the bed and bounced, moaning. Bodie sighed mightily, grimaced and got up, snatching a robe from behind the door as he went. He returned almost immediately. "Wakey, wakey, sunshine. Work." he intoned drily.

Doyle sighed, and clambered gingerly off the bed. Bodie threw his his clothes as he was getting dressed.

"You're getting better with that sodding bed, Ray," Bodie commented as he pulled on his shirt. They finished dressing, and Doyle disappeared towards the kitchen in search of aspirin and coffee. Bodie stayed a moment and lightly patted the bed in gratitude and farewell. "We'll have to do this again sometime," he said softly. "It was fun." Then he too left the room in search of some aspirin and his partner.

-- THE END --