"It's too small, isn't it?" Doyle said, sudden despondency over-whelming him. "I wish it was bigger, but..."

"I don't give a damn how big it is. Size doesn't matter," said Bodie, an expression of awed delight settling on his handsome features. "It's perfect just as it is. Abso-bloody-lutely perfect!"

Doyle snorted. "Oh yeah? Pull the other one, it's got bells on."

"Bells? What bells?" A sudden glint of mischief in its depths, Bodie's gaze roamed, searching. "I don't see any bells. Where are they?"

"Idiot!" Doyle fought with a reluctant grin. The grin won. "Two sandwiches short of a picnic, you are. Don't change the subject. If you think that's perfect, you need glasses."

"I," said Bodie, with monumental aplomb, "have 20/20 vision, as you very well know, sunshine. I think it's beautiful, actually."

"Beautiful?" Doyle's voice rose to nearly a squeak. "It's crooked as hell!"

Bodie glanced down between them at the object in question and studied it with concentrated care. "We-ell, maybe just a little lopsided if you have to be picky. But if it is, it just adds to its attraction as far as I'm concerned." Looking back up just in time to catch Doyle's expression of patent disbelief, he added, "Would I lie to you?"

"Do fish swim?"

Bodie looked hurt. "Okay, so I'm not exactly George Washington. But not about this. Truly, Ray, it's beautiful to me."

Eyes narrowed suspiciously, Doyle stared back. Bodie's face was open, sincerity personified. Not that that counted for much, Bodie being just as good with sincerity as he was with pathos when the need arose. What really convinced was the frank, unguarded love that was there as well.

He really did mean it.

Doyle gave him a sudden smile of such ineffable sweetness that Bodie blinked, momentarily stunned. "In that case, it has to be true what they say about love being blind and beauty being in the eye of the beholder. The bloody thing leans well to the left-and the head is funny looking as well."

"Is it? Looks fine to me." Bodie ran a questing forefinger over and around the portion of anatomy under discussion, and then sucked on the digit reflectively. Doyle's sharp intake of breath at the overt sensuality of the gesture brought midnight-blue eyes sweeping up to lock with green. "And it tastes every bit as good as it looks, too."

"Wouldn't know about that, I haven't tasted it," said Doyle huskily. Then he caught himself and continued, stubbornly determined to point out every perceived defect. "What do you mean, 'good as it looks'? It looks..."

Bodie cast a long-suffering glance heavenwards, and shut him up by the one tried-and-true, absolutely certain method he knew. Several extremely satisfactory minutes later, he gazed down into slightly hazed green eyes and said sternly,

"Listen, I wouldn't care if the damn thing was canary yellow covered with multi-coloured polka dots, and had more twists than a corkscrew. Or even if it was only six inches long..."

"Six inches!" Doyle yelped, outraged. "I'll 'ave you know it's certainly longer'n six inches!"

Bodie shut him up again, the same way as before. Several more pleasurable minutes passed before he spoke again.

"How many times do I have to say it, Doyle? Size isn't important. Appearance isn't important. It's perfect because I happen to love you, and to me that's all that matters. Got that?"

"Got it," Doyle said faintly, eyes and mind still firmly fixed on the hovering mouth that had just finished thoroughly kissing him for the second time.

Bodie chuckled, smugly aware of the reaction. "Good. Now we've got that settled, can I please get on with it? I'm beginning to feel deprived around here."

"Perish the thought!" said Doyle, recovering smartly. "Go on, then, it's all yours. Feel free to do whatever you like with it."

Five minutes later, sprawled bonelessly on the settee whilst Bodie enjoyed doing what he always did best, Doyle made himself a promise.

He had his pride after all. He wouldn't allow himself to be caught on the hop again, next time Bodie decided he fancied something a little out of the ordinary for his birthday-or any other time, come to that. Coping with the great idiot's childish side which surfaced at a time like this was turning out to be a bit of a problem, so first chance Doyle got he was going to scour London for all the speciality baking tins he could find. Not to mention laying in a supply of everything he could think of which might possibly be required in future.

Artistic inclinations Raymond Doyle did indeed have, but he had just learned the hard way that, Bodie's opinion to the contrary, they did not extend to producing a Paddington Bear-shaped cake without the right equipment.

-- THE END --