And as long as we're still in the mood, I'm closing this year's Christmas recs
with two of my absolute favourites.
Five Christmases by Jojo
“Marcia,” Bodie said, choosing a name at random from his mental little black book when it had become obvious that he was the only one with no plans. He had put himself on call for the whole period up to and including New Year’s Day, presuming that even the combined might of the Red Brigades, the KGB and the IRA would give him a day or two’s grace, but hopefully no more than that. In the spirit of goodwill to all men.
“She the one with the dodgy ex-husband?” asked McCabe.
“The Cuban dancer?"
“Marcia just happens to know exactly how to do me giblets,” Bodie said, going for the laugh as usual.
“You told her you’re coming for Christmas?” Doyle asked from the far corner. Bodie tugged his gaze over. Trust Doyle.
It had been four months since he’d gained this partner, his first, and it was a novelty that wasn’t showing any signs of wearing off. Most of the time he still felt obliged to talk rubbish in order to cover up the abject devotion which had come over him after about half a day in the company of the prickly sod with the mad hair and acid tongue. The prickly sod who appeared to have multiple friends and family wanting him to spend Christmas with them and their multiple kids.
Why did Doyle have to look and sound so all-knowing anyway? As if he was sadly well aware Bodie was charting a completely erratic course for any-port-in-a-storm.
Like a Thunderstorm by Callisto
"Bodie . . ."
"Lie quiet, yeah? Just this once, there's a good lad."
He could hear Bodie breathing, feel the exhalations on his neck. So he stopped moving even though something hard---Bodie's hand?---was pressing into his shoulder, pressing him down and making his vision blur and his stomach roll.
The warmer ground moved, rocking his head a little but not so that it hurt. He blinked his eyes back open and swallowed the nausea down. He was on Bodie's lap, he'd never been on Bodie's lap in his life.
". . . up?"
"Not right now, sunshine. Need you to lie still for me."
The hands pressed again and Doyle groaned and lay back. As he drifted off to the sounds of sirens, he grasped at something. Bodie wasn't getting up, wasn't leaving him lying on a folded up jacket while they waited.
Which meant that Bodie was sitting in a puddle.
Just for him.