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Visions of Bodie and Doyle: the beauty of forearms, biceps and associated areas: variation on an original theme*

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1) Apologies for the amount of images here - you know how it is with these boys, once you start it's hard to stop.
2) And apologies for the slight imbalance towards Doyle, Bodie seems to feel the cold more!

step0005 As time passed, Bodie’s instinct turned to conviction that Doyle was going to kill himself. He seemed to have no self preservation. He’d doggedly do whatever he was told, no light in his eyes anymore. He didn’t flare up as often and when he did, it seemed hopeless, like a tiger snarling against a stick poked through his cage. His anger only wore him out further and somehow Bodie was starting to hate the sight of Doyle’s fruitless anger and the way he was wearing down... Doyle was certainly becoming one of the most interesting things about the training. The man was an enigma wrapped in danger. And Bodie was quite ready to test himself against that danger again, even if he never figured out the enigma part. Broken Reeds:Hutchynstarsk/Allie
step0007 He looked up at Cowley.
“What do you want us to do?”
“Kruger is an old acquaintance of Bodie’s. I want you both to infiltrate his organisation and find out everything about this weapon, how he makes it, who is interested in it.”
Doyle felt like someone punched him in the throat. He did not know what to say. Of course he’d known about Bodie’s dubious past, but in the last months, he’d somehow thought that Bodie couldn’t have been that bad. He was a loyal, good partner, risking his life to protect the innocent. But this… Bodie and Kruger?
And then another thought dawned on him.
“But it says here that Kruger is still in Africa.”
“Exactly, Doyle. And that’s where you and Bodie will be going first thing tomorrow morning.”
Doyle gaped...
In the Heart of Darkness:faoil
step00033 The morning had started very badly for Bodie. Roused from a warm woman by the incessant ringing of the phone, it had taken only a few terse sentences from Cowley to wake him up and get him out of bed. Shaking Julia, or Claudia, or someone ending in ‘a’ awake, he gallantly told them how good it had been for him, cited an urgent problem at work, and promised to ring them again, before shooing Julia/Claudia out the door.

Fifteen minutes later he was striding through the doors of CI5’s headquarters, grim faced, and in no mooed to swap pleasantries with anyone. He pushed open the door to George Cowley’s office... It wasn’t going to be a good day.
Limehouse Blues: Sadlady

step0005 They had danced around each other for months. If either had noticed that the little touches had become just that tiny bit more intimate, the looks that bit more lingering, then neither of them had mentioned it. Somewhere along the line, the fluttering of pretty bird’s wings had quieted, both Bodie and Doyle dating less women in favour of enjoying each other’s company instead. The inevitability of their professional partnership turning into something entirely more personal was something they had both still tentatively held at arm’s length. The thrill of the chase and the excitement of the secret knowledge still thrumming through their veins, they both held off from taking the final plunge. Neither quite ready to admit to himself that he was falling in love, they flirted and teased, gently stringing out the courtship towards it’s exquisite conclusion. The O'Neill op changed all that... Healing:Pale Rider (Boothross)
ba-scraplinespfl He realised with startling clarity that he truly missed Doyle's voice, and his laugh. How many stake outs had he survived successfully all because Doyle would ramble on with one story or another? How many times had he fallen asleep listening to that voice? Doyle's voice was almost like a safety net enfolding him. Not hearing Doyle's voice again would be worse than not hearing music again... They were partners. Partners had each other's back, looked out for one another, took care of each other. He thought of Lucas and McCabe: they did all right by each other on the job, but other than darts night at the pub they didn't spend their down time together, injured or not... Bodie was brought up short in his own thoughts. He wasn't missing the birds. He'd choose time with Doyle over a bodacious bird . . . any bird in fact. If only . . . warnings that this was dipping down a dangerous path made him pause, but onward into treacherous territory he forged. If only what? On A Silent Night:KrisserCI5
ba-scrapvoyeur Through the thin door he could hear Bodie's fading footsteps, not hurrying, just going away... He'd finally done it - pushed Bodie too far. Played his little game once too often. That remark about the shower had been deliberate, harking back to a similar night not so long ago.... "Well it was fun while it lasted," he told the silent room in a vain attempt to shrug away this sudden empty feeling. It was true. It had been fun. Teasing his partner - knowing he could get him going - was a weird sort of turn on. He had enjoyed Bodie's discomfort. After all, Bodie did it to him often enough. All those black tight clothes, the smoldering look-don't-touch attitude...hell, it was only natural he'd get a kick out of knowing Bodie wanted him. Wasn't it? But now, as surely as if he'd said it aloud, Bodie had called a halt to the game. "Oh well," Ray shrugged and went to retrieve his shirt. It didn't matter. Of course it didn't. A bit of harmless fun, another way to relieve the boredom of interminable waits between action times. But if Bodie figured he could keep on teasing and not get some sort of retaliation he had another think coming. The next time he wore black... Voyeur:Anne Carr
ba-scrapthatlook2 Doyle searched Bodie's face for some idea of how he was feeling, but the look his partner was giving him was implacable. "Didn't think he'd be your type — didn't think blokes were your type." Bodie looked at the floor. "They're not." He glanced back up to meet Doyle's eyes. "Usually. You got a problem with it?" Before Doyle could answer, Bodie added a little more harshly, "And don't try to tell me you've never experimented that way." It was true, he had. More times, in fact, than he could remember... "What if I have?" he conceded, quietly... "Pot, kettle, black." His partner had a point. So what was his problem? he wondered. "You don't have to go shovin' it in my face," he said after a moment's consideration. "How about showin' a bit of discretion?" "It's all right for me to chat blokes up, as long as I don't do it in front of you," Bodie interpreted. Doyle could feel his anger rising. "Yeah, that's right." That Look:Awarrington
ba-scrapbamfie Then the smell hit him. They say that smell is one of the greatest triggers of memory that the human body has. Better than touch and sound and taste, smell can transport you back to a time, perhaps even one you tried to forget, in a single instant. The blink of an eye. This smell was familiar and it prompted floods of images, from years of working in this game, years of seeing the same thing shout after shout... The stairs were metal, a black spiral freestanding from the wall. There were lights directly above the top steps. Spotlights that had been added by some previous owner or another to give the place some sort of modern feel. Those lights were attached to a winding metal bar, probably bought from some DIY shop or other and bent and moulded to look artistic. Hanging from that bar, on a section of strong rope, was a body... He had been Bodie's height, or thereabouts, but his body was slimmer. Less meat on the bones, so to speak. And that was all he was now, so much raw meat. His face wasn't frozen in a mask of surprise, or shocked in any way, instead the eyes were closed and the mouth slack, as if he'd gone peacefully. The rest of the evidence was very much to the contrary. There were deep gouges across the chest, as if someone had started digging for a heart and given up half way. The meaty flaps of skin were washed in right red blood, the details lost from a distance. But the smell... Half Lives: Queen Bamfie
ba-scraprhianne At this Cowley broke in. "Until we hear that he’s alive, this conversation goes no further. I won’t negotiate for a corpse."
"A logical point, Mr Cowley. Very well, perhaps this will show my good faith. You’ll have to be patient, we’ll see if we can wake him up."
A click as the receiver on the other end was set down, then came a few sounds that Bodie couldn’t decipher, muffled voices, a moment’s silence, then a hoarse, slurred voice could be heard.
"Sir?"
"Doyle."
...Doyle lowered his voice and spoke quickly, his voice a little steadier. "It’s Cane. Be careful, there’s a…"
A shout drowned out whatever Doyle was trying to say, and though they heard the words, neither Bodie nor Cowley could make them out. The voices stopped suddenly and Doyle broke off with a cry, then Bodie heard a thud and a dull moan coming faintly over the line... Holding On:Rhianne
ba-scrapvesta "How long has this been brewing, then, d'you think," he finally managed, his voice shaking; Bodie was silent for a moment, then he sighed heavily, slumping a little and looking down into his drink as he said in a voice softer and more gentle than Ray had ever heard from him, "For me? The day we met. At the sports club, remember?" His smile was ... a little sad as he looked up again, his face open and vulnerable. "You were standing at the bar, beside some gorgeous long-legged blonde piece in a tennis skirt...but it was your arse I couldn't take my eyes off. And when you turned around and smiled at me with that mouth...." He reached out carefully to touch Ray's perfect Cupid's Bow, fingers pressing lightly before he drew back and sighed again. "I knew then, I think. I just didn't want to admit it..." (A)First Time{Vesta
ba-scrappillory ...up the wide set of stairs that led to a dark blue door. Bodie's door... Doyle leant his shoulder against the rough London bricks and tried to steady himself. Just because someone might answer the doorbell's summons didn't mean that he shouldn't ring it. After all, he was here to talk to Bodie. Or at least try to... The doorbell. Ring it. He stretched out his hand and thumbed the illuminated tag that stated '6'. Two years, eight months and twenty-four days since he had last seen Bodie. Longer since they had spoken, for the last glimpse of him had been at the trial. The cool impassive features finally breaking into a semblance of life when the sentence was announced. At the time he thought the emotion was a faint residual sympathy for the man who had been his partner. It had taken nearly a year of waiting for every visiting time, waiting to see Bodie's face, each time being disappointed, before he'd come to realise the emotion had probably been closer to contempt that the judge hadn't put him away for life. Despite himself, he pressed the door-bell... The Pillory:Kitty Fisher
ba-scrapblind (2) Now there was a space between them which might just as well have been as wide as a canyon. Yet for all that, Bodie was still very aware of the proximity of the man who stood those scant inches away from him. It seemed as if he could feel the heat from his partner's body, but was certain it was just the product of his overactive imagination. He tried to imagine what might be going through Doyle's mind at that moment, being so close to the man he fancied. He wondered if it turned him on being this near or if Doyle was wishing he could hold him. Blimey, Doyle'd managed a sight more than that earlier. None So Blind:awarrington
ba-scrapwindow3 Bodie let himself in and Doyle smiled to himself. They were so close and possibly about to become closer but he wouldn’t go too fast. He might still be wrong, just caught up in his own wishful thinking. Bodie was whistling jauntily as he put a bottle on the table and shrugged off his coat. Then he made a display of noticing the chocolates, waggling his eyebrows and saying, in an exaggerated fashion, ‘Somebody loves you then?’ Doyle's lips twitched. ‘Maybe, maybe not. Might be booby trapped, or poisoned or something. Dunno who sent them. Found them on the doorstep this morning. Would have taken them to work if I’d been going in. As it is, they can go to be tested on Monday.’ Bodie’s face was a picture. ‘You’re going to hand them over to the lab boys? But they’re...they’re O.K. Honestly. I should know...’ Bodie’s features were a mass of blushes and confusion as he realised he’d probably given himself away. Forty-eight Hours:moth2fic
ba-scraptiranog3 He and Bodie had been working together over a month, the first time they skirted round the issue. A junior minister's house had been firebombed in the middle of the night -- minor damage only, but still plenty to interest CI5. And the only other person present was a friend -- a male friend -- who had just happened to be staying over. Add to that the spare bedroom sheets unconvincingly rumpled, and the minister himself very anxious that his overnight visitor be left out of the official report, and you didn't need Doyle's instincts to know why. "Not easy, living that life," Doyle said ... He could have meant 'working in the Northern Ireland office', or Bodie could have pretended that was what he'd meant. But Bodie didn't do that... "No, it isn't," he said quietly. They dropped the subject then, like the hot potato it was... Complicity:Garonne
ba-scrapskule A selkie. A seal-man, not even human. Shedding his skin to take on human form -- mother of mercy, the pelt in the cabin -- and watching him from the water, wanting to meet him, wanting... Dear, sweet God... A selkie. Eventually he had to move, as his legs began to cramp and he regained some measure of calmness. He had done no sin, he told himself. Only spoken with Bodie, shared his food, and even Jesus had eaten with sinners and unChristians. There was nothing to fear. He would stay closer to the shore in future, and Bodie would not come again. He crossed himself as he stood up, and as he turned... he saw Bodie stand up from the surf. He cried out in startlement. Bodie was wading toward the shore, his black fur draped casually across his shoulders, a smile on his face that wavered when Raymond backed away... Sule Skerrie:Shoshanna
ba-scrapcomp2 Cowley had already known from his file that Bodie was a long distance expert. He knew that Bodie had gained his experience during his mercenary years. He didn’t know how many men Bodie had killed but he recognised the desensitised way he handled his weapon. He didn’t flinch, looked neither concerned nor blasé, nervous or excited. It was a piece of equipment he evidently respected and he handled it accordingly and with the ease of familiarity. Tindle was the only other man that came close to Bodie in precision and surprisingly it was Ray Doyle after him. A rifle was not a coppers usual weapon but Doyle had an eye for accuracy. Doyle, however, openly outshone everyone with the handgun. Legs braced apart, knees slightly bent, arms straight, both fists around the gun, he was fast and deadly, every bullet hitting where he intended. Cowley was unsurprised at his skill, Morrison had mentioned it in the initial reports, but he was nevertheless in awe of the sheer ability of Doyle with a 9mm Browning semi auto pistol. Privately of course. The only man that came anywhere near Doyle in ability was Bodie. Bodie who was familiar with just about every weapon currently on and off the market, black or legitimate. But he didn’t quite match Doyle... Doyle & Bodie - Beginnings:Jaicen5
ba-scrapmanip Doyle surveyed the strong figure before him; the broad shoulders and chest, the well- defined muscles in arms and legs, the handsome, even features, and felt the force of the other's personality reach out and enfold him as it had done ever since the first time they had met. It was impossible to imagine Bodie being an ordinary anything, and Doyle said so, forcibly. Bodie blinked and looked up, startled. Their eyes met and held for a long moment. Something passed between them - Doyle was not sure what, but whatever it was he found himself unable to look away... The Ghost and Raymond Doyle: Barbara Thomas:Unprofessional Conduct 5, Gryphon Press.
ba-scrapfallboy He stepped in silently and pushed the door shut behind him with a click. He set the lock to avoid an angry phone call from Control, then padded down the hallway. He stopped in the doorway of the lounge with his head cocked to one side, taking in the scene before him.
He jumped a little as Marikka’s voice floated around the flat.
“What’s the matter with you? Don’t you trust Bodie?”
Bodie was sat on the edge of his settee, leaning forward as he stared at the tape player. He reached forward to stop the tape, then pressed rewind, and play.
“What’s the matter with you? Don’t you trust Bodie?”
At exactly the same moment as before, he once again stopped and re-wound the tape, and pressed play again.
“What’s the matter with you? Don’t you trust Bodie?”
; Doyle winced...
Fall Boy:ILWB
step0003 Bodie loved women, he reminded himself – undemanding company, good food, warm sex. But Doyle? Did he want Doyle? Like that? He loved the miserable little git, without doubt and without thought. Not sure when it’d started, and god knew, they’d half-heartedly tried to kill each other once or twice to begin with, before a grudging respect set in, followed by trust… and now Doyle was simply a part of him, skin-deep, bone-deep. Beautiful, tough as old shit, violent, bright, funny, unpredictable, ugly, mean… a thousand words and none of them quite explained what he felt about Doyle... Doyle who matched him, stretched him, challenged him as no-one else ever had. With Doyle he was never bored, constantly off-balance… he’d had never felt more certain or safe with anyone before. But… Doyle and Paul, woven together, naked, kissing, soft laughter; Jazz lying there too, watching them the same way he’d watched Doyle and that bird… except Jazz wasn’t some bird, some casual pick-up. She’d known Doyle, long before anyone else. She knew so much of him, shared those looks… ‘She predates you,’ Cowley’s voice intoned again. Shit, fuck, and bugger. His Maggie May:Snailbones
step0029 Doyle studied the solid design of him: the powerfully developed neck; sculpted shoulders, upper arms, and forearms; blunt-fingered hands; broad, smoothly defined chest ... tapering into comparatively narrow hips; flat abdomen; and corded thighs that bunched as he shifted weight--both front and back athletically proportioned--and calves that curved like hewn stone into surprisingly small feet. A fillip of heat curled inside Doyle's belly, a purely animalistic response to an extremely attractive male. Harlequin Airs: Ellis Ward
ba-scraparms "It'll be all right. *We'll* be all right. Trust me. Trust us."
Cowley shook his head and let out his own sigh that was tinged with clear exasperation. "I know you'll be fine. Still, it's a huge step, even in this day and age. It's not that I don't trust you, 4.5-"
"Doyle. Or Ray. I'm not 4.5, and haven't been for a good while now. And besides, after all this time, I thought we were friends." Doyle paused before he asked, "We are friends, aren't we?"
"Of course we're friends! You needn't ask."
"I'll do my best to make this work. I swear. I'll never let you down," Doyle said firmly.
"As I was saying, Doyle, I trust you. It's this world we live in that I fear will harm you. But you're a grown man and you've made your decision. And I pray with all my soul that it will go well for many years to come..."
What Lies Within:LilyK
ba-scrapJoJo2 “Is anything going to come of this date? Is he gorgeous? Have you had sex yet?”
“No and yes and no.”
“What, just because you got interrupted?”
“No. Just because. I don’t think he’s really my type to be honest. And I’m not sure I’m his either.”
He knew Bodie hadn’t been saying no, and yet somehow it felt as if he had.
“Oh Ray.” His sister was cross with him. “Why can’t you give anyone a proper chance? Let it go, forget all those arseholes. So they fucked up your career, but they were bloody wrong about you, weren’t they? And the right people know that. You can’t do anything about all the others and you can’t let what happened here stay with you forever. Or, you’ll be alone forever.”
“Don’t speech me,” Doyle said. “I’m fine. This is nothing to do with that.”
Of course, he knew, deep down, that almost everything in his life right now was to do with that. With being under suspicion, opting to take the high ground and give it all up, with having to leave when he hadn’t done anything – not one single official thing – wrong.
Sis was right though. Of course she was. If he let anger and betrayal run his life he was going to end up what he dreaded. Alone, single, a man unbalanced, lopped off at the roots...So This Is Us:JoJo
ba-scrapairelle He was dishevelled, unshaved... He was still beautiful, in a sickly way, but his cool, good-humoured poise was nowhere to be seen; he looked frantic and exhausted at the same time.
Bodie's eyes restlessly surveyed the room. "You're alone?" he finally asked...
"...What happened to you?"
...He sat beside the silent, despondent man, urgently asking him what exactly was wrong. When Bodie failed to answer, Doyle took hold of his shoulders and shook him slightly. "Bodie. I can see you're sick, and you're needing rest. But first you have to tell me what happened. Can I help? Come on, mate, speak up!"
At long last, Bodie lifted his eyes to meet Doyle's. "There's... nothing you can do...I did nothing. There's nothing you can do... I swear it, Ray. Oh, god, my head hurts... I can't think properly..."
The Shadow Of A Lonely Man:Airelle
ba-scraptears Doyle pulled the sleepy head cradled in the crook of his arm closer and planted a kiss amongst the dishevelled ... ringlets.
''Mmmm, what time is it?''
''Time I was leaving love, Bodie'll be at my place in another half hour, probably best if I'm there to meet him.''
''Invite him down, I could do wicked things to that partner of yours.''
''Don't give him ideas.''
''Will you be back tonight?''
''You know the job, worse than the force. I will if I can..."
''Don't bother on my account lover.''
''More worried about the neighbours'' replied Doyle, pulling on his jeans and grabbing his shirt and shoulder holster.
''They're very broad minded round here...''
All Thy Tears:Fiorenza_a
ba-scrapablacksheep ..it had hurt, so bloody much, betrayal lancing through him.
He should have known it had been too good to last; nothing ever did. But he could think of nothing that had mattered this much to him.
So what could he do about holding it together?
Doyle was Doyle, and if he needed variety, needed more than Bodie could give him, Bodie knew he had two choices - to accept Doyle's need for variety, and to roam with him as they had done in the past, or to pack it in and pretend this had never been intended as more than a few nights' experimentation with a good mate.
Some choice, Bodie admitted, grim-faced, his anger overtaken by the depressing knowledge that it wouldn't - couldn't - work like that, not in the long run. It was the first time he had ever thought of a relationship in anything but terms of days and weeks, but he accepted that he couldn't imagine a life where Doyle wasn't an integral part of his existence. Black Sheep: hgdoghouse