Author/pseudonym: Jinx
Fandom: The Professionals
Pairing: Bodie/Doyle/D (of course!)
Category: Romance, Established Relationship
Rating: PG-13-ish
Status: Done, finished, kaput, no more
Archive: If you ever get an archivist... sure, archive away.
E-mail address for feedback: jinx37kat@aol.com
Series/Sequel: Nope on both.
Author's websites: Don't have one (so not with the times... sigh)
Disclaimers: Ain't mine, though I DO own them in an alternate reality, so I can do what I want! HA!
Notes: Okay, so I'm going to disillusion you all a bit and post one of my earliest of fan fics. (Read that as "the story sucks".) Why post then? you ask. Well, to give you all a good chuckle and to show that I actually have improved with age. <snort>
Brief Summary: Thoughts in the morning.
Spoilers: Nope.
Morning Glories
by Jinx
He was drifting in the place you're at between asleep and awake; kind of knowing where you are, but not quite knowing. Right now, he was floating. He felt a weight on his torso, but it wasn't heavy enough to bother him. Just on the edge of consciousness, he decided that he really didn't want to wake up, but he knew he didn't have a choice. His mind had other ideas. So, while he waited for his mind to fully awaken, he decided to relax and let his body drift in this nether world.
A movement. Just slight enough to push him over the edge, more so, into consciousness. *Damn.* He was aware of his body now. Spread-eagle in the middle of the mattress, arms outstretched to his sides. The weight was still on his chest, but still not heavy enough to illicit its removal.
Light. Just enough to bring him that much closer to wakefulness. But, blinding his mind's eye to it, he refused to let it penetrate his fog filled senses. The light slowly began to diminish. He felt himself gradually slip deeper into unconsciousness once again. Exactly where he longed to be.
Movement. Dragging him, unwilling, back from the depth of darkness. *Shit.* The movement came from the top of his body from where the weight draped over him. The movement was slight, miniscule, but enough to tow him from his abysmal slumber for the second time. This time, however, he managed to move his sleep-heavy limbs and wrap them around the weight that was settled on his breast. The movement ceased and he willed the darkness to enchant him once more. This time, as he lay drifting in hypnagogic, he was rested enough to not wish to fall back into the sopor that took him before. He was content to lie where he was and take his time retrieving full consciousness. The sensations of waking began to assault him. First, the light made itself known its maximum potential; brightening the room like a solar flare. But, amazingly enough, that didn't bother him. Nothing on this glorious morning could bother him. And the reason for his contentment was still bundled in the cocoon of his arms. Prying a somnolent eye open, he focused a green eye on a dark swath of hair resting on his chest. Moving his eye downward, he noted an arm clasped tightly around his middle and, further down, a leg flung over a thigh. But, whose leg was flung over whose thigh wasn't quite clear at the moment. The only thing he was sure of was *who* it was that covered him. And, really, that was the only thing that mattered, wasn't it?
Well, since one eye had decided to take inventory, it was only right that the other eye wake up as well. As it opened, he realized that it was much easier to view the man he held in his arms. Dark, silky hair graced the weary sleeper's head, mixing with his own chest hairs. He moved a hand to gentle comb the inky strands. In doing so, the sleeper stirred, repositioning his body so that the mass of himself slid off Doyle's torso and snuggled tightly to his side, resting the ebony head on a shoulder. The octopus arm and the entwined legs, however, did not readjust. Snuffling, Bodie quieted and lay still.
Doyle turned to his side, the better to behold the sight next to him. Curled up on his side, Bodie looked all of nine years old. He lightly caressed each feature in turn: The pouting lower lip that he loved to draw into his mouth and suck on endlessly. The turned up nose he loved to nibble on. The long black lashes the blue eyes hid behind when he was embarrassed. The curve of the ear that drove Bodie crazy when whispered upon. The strong chin that jutted when he didn't get his way. The collarbone he nipped on to brand Bodie as his. The broad chest Doyle loved to nuzzle. All of which belonged to him. *Him!* *Now,* he reminded himself.
There was a time when all this seemed a distant dream. But, dreams, sometimes, still come true. Once in awhile, when one hopes and prays long enough, Cupid comes along and smacks the object of your fancy upside the head with his bow (in Bodie's case, a mere arrow would not do) and your heart's desire is handed to you on a silver platter. Okay, well in Doyle's case, his heart's desire was handed to him on wet concrete steps leading to Doyle's third floor flat. But, who's going to complain?
* * *
Bodie was pissed enough for two other people, and we're not talking drunk. Both he and Doyle had just come off a grueling four and a half months obbo which blew up in their faces. Literally. Back up was late arriving at the scene and Bodie and Doyle had just enough time to run down seven flights of stairs and out the door before the building imploded. Bodie was breathing fire and managed to singe the controller enough to put himself on a five day suspension. Doyle, who was equally mad, and got madder still when Cowley put Bodie on suspension, found himself on a ten day suspension. Mounts St. Helen and Vesuvius stormed out of the building and exploded on the streets. Squealing tires announcing their departures.
It was pouring down rain by the time Bodie arrived at Doyle's flat, which did nothing for his disposition. Inviting himself in for a drink, Bodie stomped off through the enlarging puddles toward the building leaving Doyle in his backwash. Doyle, in no better mood, followed sullenly.
The atmosphere in the flat was tense. Bodie paced in the lounge like a cornered lion. Too angry to even hold a glass of scotch, he flung obscenities in three different languages at his, thankfully, absent controller. Doyle, on the other hand, was putting enough scotch away for the both of them, which gave him the courage to suggest what he did. Bodie was too stunned to move for a fleeting moment, then cursed Doyle and marched off into the night. He didn't get far, however. At the second step, which would have led him to the street, Bodie stopped, rain soaking him immediately. Turning around, he saw the curly head framing the window above, and a slow smile began to engulf his face. Suddenly, the face disappeared. He was about to leave, when the door to the building burst open. Doyle slowly walked to Bodie, draped a blanket about his shoulders, and led him back into the building.
* * *
The love they made that night was the best Doyle ever experienced. Possibly and probably because it was with someone he loved and not just a one-night-get-your-rocks-off affair. Doyle knew, after that night, that this was for real. Doyle smiled. That night was nine years ago. And they are still going as strong today as they were all those years ago. The only real thing that changed in their lives is that they are no longer on the A-Squad, but instructors with CI5. The infamous Bodie and Doyle. They make Maclin and Towser look like sunday school teachers. Doyle was brought out of his reverie when the bundle next to him shifted. //Why not help him out a little waking up?// Doyle thought and bent his head to kiss his sleeping beauty awake.
end
Jinx
www.shelectronics.iwonelectronics.com