The Professionals Circuit Archive - Christmas       Christmas

 

by Fanny Adams 

  
 *(Karen's Birthday Story)*

 *Story #3 in the Emma universe*


 Ray wished that it could always be like this. Across from him, curled up
on the hearthrug like a great contented cat, Bodie slept, a
serious-looking teddy bear clutched against his chest. Julie sat over the
chessboard, a look of triumph on her face --- she had finally bested
Cowley. All around the room were CI5 personnel, some talking quietly, some
listening to the music on the radio, and some, like Murphy on the long
leather couch, and Bodie, were frankly asleep. It was Christmas night and
for many years now this gathering had been, if not a tradition, an
instinctive journey that most of the personnel made at some time during
the day. Some stopped by with presents and good cheer; some, like Bodie
and himself, came early and shared a meal with Cowley and the others and
stayed the day.

 It was said there were no holidays in CI5, but this day was special to
all of them. There had been years when they'd been interrupted, but
nothing had ever prevented them from snatching a few moments with this
special 'family'. Ray remembered very clearly the year it had begun.

 It was his first year in The Squad and he and Bodie had settled into a
fairly good working relationship. They had already been to bed together
once, but neither of them seemed interested in pursuing the affair and Ray
had assumed that it was going to be a one-shot, so to speak. Still, he'd
come to like Bodie over the last months and fancied his friendship was
reciprocated. They were sitting together in the common room, comparing
notes with several other agents when the subject of the holidays came up.

 "Going to visit me mum," Doyle told the group and rolled his eyes. "She's
a terror. We have a fight every year about me going to Mass with her."
Rafferty nodded sympathetically.

 "There's never any fights about it at home -- we go and that's an end to
it."

 Collings, who was to die in a spectacular shoot-out with gunrunners two
days after the new year began, remarked that if one *had* to go to church,
at least the culinary rewards were great afterwards. He was demolishing a
large slab of Christmas cake that someone had brought in and washing it
down with scalding tea. Connors, a gorgeous redhead that Doyle and Bodie
had been competing for, asked Collings where he kept all the food he took
in. "Hollow leg," he confessed.

 "What about you, Bodie?" Rafferty asked. "Going to visit that mysterious
family of yours?" Bodie gave a characteristic shrug.

 "I've got something lined up," he said with the famous Bodie leer. There
were some hoots and laughter. "There are other sorts of rewards, apart
from the culinary ones, Collings," he said, snatching a chunk of cake from
under Collings long nose. "I'll bet my holidays are just as . . .
meaningful as yours." He swaggered out of the common room with his teacup
in one hand and a file folder in the other. Doyle followed.

 "Hoi, half a mo', Bodie." His partner waited for him and they walked on
shoulder-to-shoulder. "I was going to say, if you haven't got anything
planned over the holiday, you can come along with me if you want. Course,
Mum's not the jolly sort, y'know."

 "I just said I was busy, Doyle." Bodie tapped Ray's nose with a finger
sticky with frosting. "That is not good observation technique."

 Doyle felt foolish. "I was just bein' nice, Bodie; you don't have to act
so bloody superior. Y'know, some people think of Christmas as more than an
opportunity to spend the day fucking." He turned and marched off,
determined not to play at Father Christmas again.

 "'oi, Goldilocks!" Ray turned and glared at Bodie. "It *was* nice.
Thanks."

 ******

Christmas with his mother was all Ray had anticipated. They fought about
the midnight services and she told him to go home, that she'd prefer to
spend the day with her friends -- mostly widows or unmarried older women.
Dismissed, he made his way back to Chelsea. It was almost midnight and he
wondered how his partner was faring, so he swung past Bodie's flat on the
way home. There was still a light in the window, so he gave in to the
impulse to stop and ring the bell.

 "Yeah, what?"

 "S'me, Bodie -- Ray."

 "What're you doing *here*?"

 "Freezing. Can I come up for a few minutes?" There was a soft sigh from
the other end of the intercom. "Well, Happy Christmas to you, too, mate."
He turned to walk away and the door buzzed.

 "Look, Bodie," Ray said as he entered the flat. "I didn't mean to
interrupt, but I saw the light. Figured you hadn't, ah, gone to bed yet."

 "No, not yet," Bodie agreed. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a bulky
white sweater and he looked terribly attractive.

 "Where is she, then?"

 "Who?"

 "Your girl. The one you had lined up for the holiday."

 "Oh, her. She had a family thing to go to. Drink?"

 "Yeh, thanks." Doyle had a funny feeling he was being lied to. He'd
always read Bodie's body better than his words and Bodie was withdrawn,
remote, and Ray was sure, a little embarrassed. "Mum chased me out. We
fought . . . like always."

 "Then why do you go?" Bodie asked, handing Ray a glass of Scotch.

 "She's my mum." Bodie's shrug said that he didn't think that a valid
reason. "Christmas is for families," Ray insisted. "Well, at least I
bloody bothered to go!" He sipped his drink. "So did your girl . . . if
there ever was one, which I doubt. Bodie . . ."

 "Spare me the sermon, all right?"

 "What's the matter?"

 "So I made her up. It's my protection against all the heartiness of the
season -- everyone getting so sodding sentimental about family just
because some kid was born in a barn." He slouched down in a large,
overstuffed chair and scowled into his whiskey.

 "Do you want me to go?"

 "Suit yourself," Bodie growled.

 "I was sort of lonely, is all. Didn't mean to intrude." He swallowed the
rest of the Scotch in one gulp and pulled his gloves out of his pocket.
"Well, Happy Christmas, anyway, Bodie." He couldn't resist leaning down
and kissing the top of his partner's bowed head. "Some day we'll both find
someone special to spend the holiday with, right?"

 Bodie captured his fingers and held on. "You're special, Sunshine," he
said quietly.

 ******

Ray hardly remembered the first time they'd made love, so frenzied and
fast it had been, but he knew he'd never forget this time. They took their
time learning each other's bodies, Ray fascinated by the solid mass of
muscle under the baby-smooth skin that covered every inch of Bodie's body,
awed and aroused by the power there -- what he knew and what he only
suspected. His artist's fingers learned the broad, smooth expanse of chest
and the small rose-brown nipples that were so sensitive to his touch. He
learned the touches that roused the heavy penis, learned that the head and
the underside where the large vein pulsed were terribly sensitive to all
sorts of stimuli. He learned that the tip of Bodie's cock tilted slightly
to the left when it was fully erect and that all of his body hair was as
soft and silky as the hair on his head.

 He learned what Bodie liked about his body by watching his partner's
progress across it. Possessed of an extraordinary sense of smell, Bodie
used his nose in interesting ways -- ways that made Ray both laugh with
delight and cry out with pleasure. Bodie tasted him, too; licked him all
over, face, neck, chest, armpits, arms and legs (though these seemed less
interesting to him than the nooks and crannies of the human body). Ray lay
back against a mound of pillows and watched Bodie's dark head rising and
falling above his groin and he wondered where his partner had picked up so
many skills. Interesting ones.

 Ray learned from his partner that night, and he passed on some tricks of
his own. He taught Bodie how to touch almost without touching, taught him
that a light, restless skimming of the fingertips could arouse the way
firmer caresses could not. He taught Bodie the art of touches while he
learned the pleasures of taste and smell, and he learned the smell of
Bodie, one which he would be able to identify accurately for the rest of
his life, but one whose analysis defied him. When asked what Bodie smelled
like, he could only say, "Bodie".

 He woke while it was still dark. The radio was playing softly and Bodie's
arms were wrapped around him. He felt warm and safe and very far from
trouble, and, he wished for a moment that they could stay this way
forever. Then he dropped off to sleep again. Too fast; too fast. They were
both frightened of what they'd learned that night -- what, apart from the
sexual skills, they'd communicated in the long, sweet kisses after the
lovemaking, and the next morning they were cooler toward each other than
they should have been. Later, so much later, Bodie confessed to him that
he had loved Ray then, but had been afraid to admit it.

 They shared a near-silent breakfast and Ray prowled the flat while Bodie
washed the dishes. He came to know Bodie's mind that day as well and found
it a surprise. The man was well educated, though he couldn't say if it was
self-education or an advantage of his background. He knew so little about
Bodie.

 "Don't you *have* a family, Bodie?" he asked as he dried the stacked cups
and plates.

 "Yeah, I have a family. Everyone has a family."

 "So what are they like?"

 "Not like me," was all he would say.

 "I guess I think of CI5 as a sort of family," Ray admitted as they played
Scrabble later that morning.

 "George Cowley as benevolent old Dad? AH! I used all seven letters;
that's nine million points."

 "That's not a word, Bodie."

 "Sure it is. Totiszue: that's the little thing that always breaks on
Japanese cars."

 "I don't buy that. I'm challenging."

 "Spoilsport," Bodie grumbled as he raked the tiles off the board. "Just
wait 'til you make up a great word."

 "Already did," Doyle smirked.

 "What?"

 "Bodie, does Cowley have anyone? Family, I mean?"

 Bodie frowned. "Don't think so. I think his parents are gone. He's not
married, so that's out." He laid down three tiles. "Zest," he said and
counted up the points. "If he had anyone, it'd be a brother or a sister, I
imagine."

 "I wonder how he's spending today?" Ray said as Bodie drew the last of
the tiles from the little felt bag. Bodie arranged them on his rack and
got up from the table.

 "One way to find out." He pulled the phone over and dialed Cowley's home
number. "'S ringing . . . Hello, sir. Bodie here. Happy Christmas to you,
too, sir. Yes. Ah, well, Doyle and I were wondering if you were going to
be home later today. We thought we'd drop by and bring you a present. Oh,
no, sir, not at all. We were just playing Scrabble. . . I am, but Doyle's
putting up a good fight." Ray threw the 'z' at him. "About three, then?
Right, sir. Bye." He hung up and smiled at Ray. "He was home."

 "I gathered that. Bodie, I haven't got anything for him."

 "Not to worry. We can come up with something. Look, Ray, don't you
suppose that our spending a couple of hours with him is the best gift we
can give?" He caught Ray's eye. "It was the nicest gift I got this year,"
he said, and Ray felt his skin flush.

 They made love again before they left, showering together afterwards.
Bodie found a couple of bottles of wine that he'd laid down several years
before. "Should be just right to drink about now. If we play our cards
right, Sunshine, we'll sample this tonight." He sighed. "I was saving this
for me wedding." He wrapped them in red tissue and tied them with gold
cord. "Does the artist approve?"

 "Nice," Doyle announced. "Understated."

 "Bloody right, mate. You ready, then?"

 "As I'll ever be."

 ******

He could tell that George was pleased to see them. They were invited in
and given large snifters of the MacAllan.

 "Of course, you know that Christmas is not the grand holiday in Scotland
that it is here," he explained as he opened the presents they'd brought
him. "What a very good year. Thank you. They should be ready to drink,
don't you think?"

 "It's New Year's that's the big day in Scotland, isn't it?" Doyle asked.

 "Hogmanay. Yes. I quite miss it." He smiled benevolently. "Never mind,
never mind," he said. "This seems quite as good to me right now. And
this," he said, brandishing the bottles, "will go well with the rack of
lamb in the oven. Will you two consider staying to dinner?"

 "Love to, sir," Bodie told him, winking at Doyle.

 By the time dinner was ready, two more operatives and stopped by to say
'Happy Christmas' and had been asked to stay for the meal. Later, Betty
brought a Christmas cake and they sliced it and had it with some old
Madeira. Afterwards, there was coffee and Doyle played chess with Cowley
while Bodie slept off the meal and the others talked.

 ******

After that first year, it had become a habit to ring up Cowley on
Christmas day and invite themselves over on the pretext of exchanging
gifts. As the years went by, more and more of the personnel found their
way to George's on Christmas day. There was always a dinner and many of
the group brought holiday treats. Gifts were exchanged, too.

 This year, the serious-looking teddy had been George's gift to Bodie.
What had possessed him to buy the thing for the ex-merc, Doyle would never
understand, but the look on Bodie's face when he saw the bear said that
Cowley's instincts had been accurate. "Hoi," he said, as he stood the bear
upright in the wrappings that littered the fine dhurri, paws on hips and
round tummy thrust forward, "looks like Doyle, doesn't it?" Doyle had been
given a volume of Burns.

 ******

Ray watched Cowley concede defeat to Julie. The older man stretched out
his leg and grimaced and Betty came to his side, sat beside the chair and
began to massage it. "You're a good girl, Betty," Cowley said, closing his
eyes.

 Ray stood up and went over to the fireplace where Bodie lay. "Hogging all
the heat?" he asked gently; then he knelt down beside Bodie and shook him
a little. "Move over." Bodie rolled to one side with a little groan and
Ray lay down beside him on the rug. Bodie tossed an arm over him.

 It was nice, Ray reflected. Friends and family rolled into one. These
were the people with whom he was most comfortable. He had no illusions
that his affair with Bodie had gone unmarked and, in fact, Bodie had
informed Cowley of it early in the year, though Cowley had probably
already known. It had taken seven years for them to sort out their
feelings for each other and during those years there had been many times
when Ray wouldn't have given a tinker's dam for their future together. But
now it seemed that they were more sure of each other and consequently less
likely to need to hide what they felt -- from each other or from the
people they cared about.

 So many gone, Ray realized as he made a head count. Matheison and King
had been regulars for three of four years, Williams, Martin . . . and
Tony, who had never spent Christmas here, who had been looking forward to
his first Christmas with CI5. He was surprised that these gatherings had
never become wakes. Perhaps the thing that prevented that was the sense
that what they had was too precious to blight with unhappy memories. When
their dead were remembered, it was with the sense that they still, in some
way, shared this day.

 It was for Cowley that they were here, Ray realized as he watched Betty,
obviously used to the task she'd taken on, rub away the discomfort. It was
accepted -- he was their father and what they did, they did first for him
and then for England. When George was gone, what would be left?

 He looked at Bodie's face, serene and vulnerable in sleep. It was time,
he thought, to consider their future. Soon time would become a luxury they
couldn't afford and Doyle very much wanted a chance to grow old with
someone he cared about. If that was Bodie, so be it. Love was too
important to waste worrying about who was offering it.

 Dr. Ross switched off the radio and in the sudden silence, the faraway
sound of carolers drifted in to them. They gathered around one of the big
bay windows and listened as the group emerged from the shadows into the
yellow light from the street lamp. A light powder of snow was falling.
Doyle slipped his arm around Bodie's waist and felt Bodie's arm heavy and
reassuring across his shoulders. Bodie's hair was tousled and the other
arm still clutched the bear. He was half-asleep.

 They listened for a quarter of an hour, until the singers melted back
into the shadows, the strains of "The Holly and the Ivy" hanging in the
air. George was the first to speak.

 "It's beautiful," he said, and Ray knew just what he meant.

 -- THE END --

   Archive Home