Title: Watching
Author: lucy_roman
Rating: Mature
Summary: Bodie is watching Doyle flirt with another man
Pairing: Bodie/Doyle
Word Count: 1,101


Bodie drinks his pint and does his best not to glare at Doyle and his friend. Doyle claims he's an old school friend from way back when but Bodie has been watching the two men for quite some time now and he's not so sure.

They're sitting opposite each other but Bodie can see that under the table their knees are touching. He sees the way Doyle is leaning in, mirroring the man, touching his arm.

There's a third chair at the table. His chair. But as soon as Bodie had become aware of what was going on he retreated to the bar where he has been nursing his pint ever since. Doyle doesn't even seem to notice he's not there.

"He's having far too good a time without me," Bodie mumbles into his drink.

"Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness."

"Is it?" Bodie says. "What's the second?"

"Not buying your boss a drink when he's sitting next to you."

Bodie who had been too deeply sunk in his own thoughts to notice that it was Cowley turns his head. "Sorry, sir. What will you have?"

"A scotch, neat." Cowley nods at the barmaid who serves his drink in a no nonsense fashion that Bodie is sure the Scot appreciates.

Cowley sips his drink and then glances over to where Doyle and his friend are sitting.

While Bodie has been talking to Cowley Doyle has moved from the seat opposite his friend to Bodie's abandoned chair. Doyle has a hand resting on the other man's arm. Bodie sees Doyle's fingers tighten and he shivers. Just yesterday Doyle had done that to him and he'd looked into Doyle's green eyes and been lost. Bodie shifts slightly. Thinking about what happened next probably isn't wise with Cowley sitting next to him.

Doyle's friend, Brian Something, Bodie really doesn't care, is looking into Doyle's eyes now. Bodie stands up. He can't take this any more.

"Don't." Cowley puts a hand on Bodie's arm. His touch is calm, authoritative, it grounds Bodie. Only Doyle can do it better. "He's almost there."

"What are you talking about?" Ɓodie asks.

"We picked up some chatter about Doyle's friend a couple of days ago."

Bodie scowls because he is Doyle's friend but he doesn't dare to interrupt Cowley.

"It would seem he's been in contact with... well, let's say some people we would rather nobody talked to."

Cowley is being as cryptic as usual but if Bodie asks for too much information Cowley might decide not to share anything with him. He continues to listen.

"Doyle is persuading him over to our point of view." Cowley drinks the last of his scotch and stands up.

"And what's my role in all of this?" Bodie can't seem to wipe the scowl from his face.

"Watch your partner's back." Cowley pats Bodie lightly on the shoulder as he turns to leave. "But don't get in his way."

Once Cowley has gone Bodie sits back down and asks for another pint. "And a packet of crisps please, love." On cue Bodie's stomach grumbles.

The barmaid supplies him with his beer and his crisps and gives him his change all without saying a word. Bodie appreciates that. He is not in the mood for making idle chitchat. Not when his job is to sit and watch his partner come on to another man.

As if Doyle had read his mind the curly haired man looks across at Bodie. Brian Something-or-other whispers in Doyle’s ear. Bodie drags himself to his feet. Pint glass in one hand, almost empty crisp packet in the other, he stomps across the room and throws the remains of his drink over Doyle’s friend.

The man looks up at him, a puzzled expression on his face. He looks absurdly comical with beer running down his face and dripping off his nose. Bodie would laugh if it weren't for the look of outrage on Doyle’s face.

"What the fuck, Bodie?"

He should have expected it but this whole situation has him unbalanced and so the punch that Doyle lands on his jaw comes as a surprise and he staggers back, almost falling.

"I'm sorry," Doyle says, showing concern for Brian Whatshisface while also scowling at Bodie.

Bodie puts his hand up to his face. There had been a lot of force behind that punch, a lot of anger. Bodie's temper flares into life.

"So I'm supposed to just sit and watch while you drool all over this idiot?"

"No," Doyle says and his voice is icy cold. "You don't." Doyle pulls Brian to his feet and turns towards the door.

Bodie watches the two men leave. Brian pliant and obedient. If he has any ideas about where the evening might be headed he is about to be disappointed.

Bodie walks to the door. The previously smiling barmaid is now shooting daggers at him and Bodie, well able to recognise when a tatical retreat is needed, is happy to absent himself.

Outside the air is chill, the sky dark. There would be stars if Bodie could have seen past the floodlight that illuminates the small concrete area.

Cowley's car is gone and briefly Bodie wonders if he will have to go back inside and grovel to the barmaid so that she will call a taxi for him.

"You really had to do that." It's Doyle standing in the shadow of the building.

"I wanted it to look convincing."

"Oh, you were very convincing."

Bodie moves forward so that the shadow can swallow him too. As soon as he is close enough Doyle reaches out and wraps his fingers around Bodie's wrist, tugging his partner towards him.

"So were you." Bodie can't keep the bitter note out of his voice.

"I had to be. You know what was at stake."

"All I know is what Cowley told me."

"You're jealous." He is unable to see Doyle's face clearly but he knows he's smiling.

"You would be too, if it had been the other way round."

Doyle chuckles. He still has hold of Bodie's wrist and now he slides his hand up Bodie's arm, under the sleeve of his jacket, and Bodie in response sucks in a breath.

"Think you've got this all figured out, don't you, sunshine?"

Bodie shakes his head. Doyle's fingertips are red hot against his skin. He whimpers and once again hears Doyle's smile.

"Come on, let's go home." Doyle presses himself against Bodie, just for a moment, a promise of things to come, and Bodie is more than ready for whatever Doyle sends his way.