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Bodie and Doyle lay entwined on the sofa, the room lit only by the flames from the fire, and the lights glittering around the Christmas tree.
"You know, I'm glad we decided to spend tomorrow on our own," mused Bodie, and gave Doyle a squeeze, "It'll be like our first Christmases together, before we started being sensible and having family and friends over."
"The only reason we spent those first Christmases on our own, was because we had constant hard-ons and never got out of bed." Doyle reminded him.
Bodie grinned, "Ah yes, happy days."
"Anyway, it's not just Christmas Day tomorrow, is it, it's our anniversary too. Who'd have thought we'd still be together after twenty four years?"
"It's more like thirty if you count from when we were first partnered." Bodie said.
"Yeah, all thanks to Cowley, eh?” Doyle paused thoughtfully. “Things could have gone the other way of course. I mean, we didn't always see eye to eye, did we?"
"True, we did have the odd disagreement now and then." Bodie agreed.
"But,” he continued, running his hands down Doyle's body, “ that's just because we've always had a very passionate relationship, one way or another."
"Kept things interesting, didn't it?" Doyle grinned as he remembered. "There were a few close shaves too, mind."
"Yeah, but lucky for you, I was always there to get you out of trouble," Bodie said with a straight face, bracing himself for the reply.
"Me out of trouble? What about you!" Doyle made a token effort to wriggle free of their cosy embrace in protest, but Bodie held him firm. "I saved you a few times too, sunshine! How about that time you had a load of explosives strapped to you at that airfield, remember? Who got who out of trouble then?"
"Ah well, that was only because you got me into trouble in the first place," said Bodie serenely.
"What? How d'you work that out?" spluttered Doyle.
"That fella saw you get up outside the pub, after I'd shot you. You should’ve played dead a bit longer.”
“Not much of an actor, are you?" Bodie teased.
Doyle pretended he hadn’t heard, "Then there was the time you got yourself holed up in that vicarage. Reckoned you could take on a bunch of terrorists on your own. With just one hand, may I add! You'd taken a bullet the week before, remember?"
"What was I supposed to do, just let them get away?" asked Bodie indignantly. "Now, how about that time you got a stoppage, I had to shoot the bloke we were after and The Cow was bloody furious."
"That doesn't count, wasn't my fault, was it?" replied Doyle smugly.
"Alright then, how about when that nutter Preston nicked the 180 out from right under your nose, and then started stalking you with it? Said it yourself, as I recall, that I’d save you. And I did."
"Yeah well, that's enough reminiscing for one night, I think. Let's just call it quits for now." Doyle levered himself off sofa, "Come on you," he put his hand out, "upstairs to bed."
Bodie smiled knowingly, "It’s only nine o’ clock, Ray, does that mean ...?”
"Yep,” Doyle grinned, “I’m gonna give you an early Christmas present."
THE END