New Pros fic - Whip in my valise
Just a little fic. It's been aaages since I posted a Pros fic!
Murphy dumped a teabag into his mug and flicked the switch on the electric kettle, deliberately ignoring the sound of raised voices coming from the end of the corridor outside. He pulled out two more mugs and scooped out a generous measure of coffee granules for one of them, pausing to add a couple of spoonfuls of sugar. For the other mug, he reached in to the back of the cupboard and retrieved a box of green looking teabags that smelled vaguely of peppermint and mould. He gave the teabag a curious look, shrugged and deposited it in the second mug.
On the counter top, the kettle began to steam and rattle. Murphy snatched it up and poured the boiling water into his mug. The spout was hovering over the second mug when a mighty crash exploded from the corridor outside, followed by a string of expletives so crude that Murphy was sure Bodie must have learned them from his time in the Navy. He grinned to himself. No doubt Doyle deserved them all.
Murphy looked down at the spilled water on the counter and sighed. They wouldn't be wanting their tea now then, not if the unmistakeable sounds of the domestic going on outside where anything to go by. Reaching for a cloth, he winced at the sound of heavy, angry footsteps stomping down the stairway. From his chair in the corner of the rec-room, Anson quirked his lips and raised a questioning eyebrow. Murphy have an exaggerated shrug and walked over to the window, his cup of tea in hand. Yep, there was no doubt about it. Doyle was in one of his moods.
Murphy watched from the window as Doyle burst out of the building and stormed across the car park, closely followed by Bodie. Murphy took a sip of his tea and frowned as Bodie caught up with his partner, his hands held out in a placating gesture. Anson joined him at the window and peered down at the scene in the car park.
Whatever Bodie was saying, Doyle wasn't having any of it. Murphy sighed as Doyle kept on yelling at Bodie, waving his arms around and jabbing his finger towards Bodie's chest. After abot a minute Bodie took a tenative step forward, his head lowered and hands held out towards his partner.
Murphy watched as Doyle clenched his fists and raised his chin in response. Just leave it, Bodie. Let him have his tantrum and get it out of his system. There's no talking to him when he's...
Murphy winced as Doyle shoved Bodie hard with both hands, causing him to stagger backwards and crash into the bonnet of one of the parked cars.
Ouch. Told you so...
Murphy flinched in sympathy as Bodie picked himself off the bonnet of the car and rubbed at his hip, limping towards Doyle. Even now though, Doyle hadn't finished. Even through the glass of the window and from a height of fifteen feet, Murphy could still hear the muffled sound of Doyle shouting, raging at Bodie in the carpark.
Beside him, Anson folded his arms and shook his head. “That Bodie's got the patience of a saint sometimes. I swear I'd rip his balls off if Doyle tried something like that with me.”
Murphy snorted into his mug of tea. “I'd like to see you try, mate.”
Anson shrugged and nodded towards the figures below them. It seemed that Doyle had finally vented all his anger as he spun away from Bodie and stormed towards the main road. Anson and Murphy watched as Bodie squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and trotted after Doyle.
Anson raised an eyebrow at Murphy. “At least I wouldn't stick around to be treated like his personal punching bag.” He turned away from the window and sat back down in his armchair, grabbing the latest copy of The Sun and turning to page three. “Bodie's a glutton for punishment, he really is. I don't know why he puts up with it.”
* * * * *
The pub was already crowded when Murphy entered, shuffling his way through the mass of people towards the usual table by the darts board. He rubbed his hands together as McCabe shoved a full pint of lager towards him. “Oh, you little beauty.” He took a long, greedy gulp and perched himself on a low bar stool. “I've been gagging for this all week.”
McCabe took a handful of salted peanuts from the open packet on the table and turned towards him with a grin. “Yeah, we heard you'd been having a rotten time of it lately with the Sunshine Twins over there.” He gave a short nod of his head towards Bodie and Doyle at the next table. Murphy twisted his neck and saw Doyle slouched against the wall, his pint untouched in front of him. Beside him, Bodie leaned forward, his elbows on the table, slowly ripping up one of the Royal Oak's beer mats.
Murphy lowed his voice. “They've been at it all week, like a bloody old married couple. Doyle's got a bee in his bonnet over the Goddard girl, blaming the world and its uncle for what happened, and poor old Bodie's spent the best part of the week just reining him in and stopping Doyle from getting fired.”
McCabe opened up a second packet of peanuts. “That was rough, though, what they did to the Goddard kid. The way they cut her up like that. What kind of a sick bastard does that to a pretty girl?” McCabe shoved another handful of peanuts into his mouth and glanced over at Doyle. “But he always takes it too far. I mean, shit happens. If Doyle can't deal with it then maybe it is time he found another line of work.”
At the next table, Bodie dropped the shredded remains of the beer mat onto the table and leaned back, turning towards Doyle, muttering something under his breath. Murphy watched as Doyle shrugged his shoulders in response and stared unblinkingly at the floor.
Murphy took another long swig of his lager. Not speaking to him then, eh? Poor old sod, what's he done wrong now?
Bodie shifted closer to Doyle, his face hidden from Murphy's line of sight. Doyle turned his head away, gazing resolutely instead at the crowd of people filling the pub. Another movement from Bodie, and he was right next to Doyle, their knees bumping under the little round table.
Murphy lowered his pint. Just give up, Bodie. Let him sulk, it's not worth it.
Doyle wiped a hand across his face, shaking his head at whatever Bodie was saying. Then, without looking at his partner, he shoved the table away and stalked out of the pub.
McCabe let out a low whistle. “Touchy little sod, isn't he?” They sat in silence as Bodie downed the last of his pint, grabbed his jacket and made his way through the crowd after his partner. McCabe dug in his pocket for his wallet and headed towards the bar. “Honestly, I just don't know why Bodie puts up with him sometimes...”
* * * * * * *
Murphy took the stairs slowly, gripping tightly on to the bannister and wincing as his throbbing head pounded with every step. He opened the door to the top bedroom and lowered himself on to the camp bed tucked inside the door. At the other end of the room, Jax looked down at him from behind his binoculars, currently fixed on number 12 Myrtle Street. “Oh look.” he snorted. “It's the bloody cavalry.”
Murphy groaned and flung an arm across his face, blinking against the dim sunlight coming in through the net curtains. “It was McCabe.” He muttered. “Bloody McCabe and his just one pint more...”
Jax grinned and adjusted his binoculars. “I'm sure you deserve everything you get. And you're late, mate. Happy and Dopey have been here since dawn.” Murphy rolled over in the camp bed and peered down the hallway to the box-room opposite. Bodie was standing at the doorway, arms folded tightly across his chest, leaning against the open door. Inside the room, Doyle was sitting at a tiny, foldaway table, headphones on and fiddling with the dials on the audio recorder.
Jax lowered his binoculars. “It's been two hours, and Doyle hasn't said a word to either of us since he got here Bodie reckons he's all focussed on catching McGregor, but if you ask me, he's being a petulant little bastard. You might want to watch your step today.” Jax indicated a brown, liquid stain on the wall of the bedroom. “We're a mug down, if you want tea.”
Murphy leaned up on one elbow. “Doyle did that?”
Jax nodded. “Apparently he doesn't agree with the pace of the investigation.” He eyed up the slowly drying tea stain. “Seems that Goddard girl's really got to him.”
Murphy sat up on the edge of the camp bed and watched as Doyle frowned, threw his headphones down and shoved the little table away from him. Petulant was definitely the word for it. In the hallway, Bodie stepped forward, entered the room and shut the door behind them.
Jax raised an eyebrow. “Rather him than me.” He picked up the binoculars again and pointed them at number 12. “I honestly don't know how Bodie puts up with it sometimes.”
* * * * * * *
Doyle smothered a giggle as the off-key rendition of Please Release Me drifted through the flat. He nudged the bathroom door open with his foot and put the two steaming cups of tea down on the cabinet by the sink. In the bathtub, Bodie sang along to the radio, his head bobbing along to the music. He grinned up at Doyle as he reached for his tea.
“Ah, bloody lovely that. Thanks mate.”
Doyle took a sip of his own tea and tutted at the water splashing over the side of the bathtub. “Oi, you cretin, you're getting the floor all wet.” He perched on the edge of the loo and flicked Bodie's ear. “And you left your clothes all over the bedroom floor. If you think I'm picking them up for you, you've got another thing coming.”
Bodie just waved a hand and hummed along to the music.
“Cretin” Doyle repeated. He leaned forward and tugged gently on a lock of Bodie's hair, tilting his head to one side to examine the stitches on Bodie's cheekbone. Bodie let out a low hiss as Doyle's fingers brushed across the bruise forming below the wound.
“That was a bloody stupid thing to do, you know that?” Doyle knelt down beside the bathtub and rested his hands on the edge of the tub. “Just five more minutes, and backup would have been there and we'd have had McGregor bang to rights.”
Bodie leaned his head against the back of the tub. “Yeah, and another girl would have been cut to pieces. You saw what he did to Lucy Goddard. She's 17 years old, Doyle. How's she supposed to get over that? It'll be years before she'll be able to look at herself in a mirror again.” Bodie sucked in a breath and turned his head towards Doyle. “Anyway, you had my back, right?”
Doyle leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss against Bodie's temple. “Always, mate.”
He settled himself back down by the bathtub and took another gulp of tea. “It was still a bloody stupid thing to do. And they call me the reckless one. You gave me a bloody heart attack today, Bodie. And to top it all off, we're out of milk when it's your turn to go to the shop.”
Doyle grinned as a soapy, bubbly hand reached out of the bathtub to ruffle his hair. “Honestly Bodie, I don't know why I put up with you sometimes...”
Murphy dumped a teabag into his mug and flicked the switch on the electric kettle, deliberately ignoring the sound of raised voices coming from the end of the corridor outside. He pulled out two more mugs and scooped out a generous measure of coffee granules for one of them, pausing to add a couple of spoonfuls of sugar. For the other mug, he reached in to the back of the cupboard and retrieved a box of green looking teabags that smelled vaguely of peppermint and mould. He gave the teabag a curious look, shrugged and deposited it in the second mug.
On the counter top, the kettle began to steam and rattle. Murphy snatched it up and poured the boiling water into his mug. The spout was hovering over the second mug when a mighty crash exploded from the corridor outside, followed by a string of expletives so crude that Murphy was sure Bodie must have learned them from his time in the Navy. He grinned to himself. No doubt Doyle deserved them all.
Murphy looked down at the spilled water on the counter and sighed. They wouldn't be wanting their tea now then, not if the unmistakeable sounds of the domestic going on outside where anything to go by. Reaching for a cloth, he winced at the sound of heavy, angry footsteps stomping down the stairway. From his chair in the corner of the rec-room, Anson quirked his lips and raised a questioning eyebrow. Murphy have an exaggerated shrug and walked over to the window, his cup of tea in hand. Yep, there was no doubt about it. Doyle was in one of his moods.
Murphy watched from the window as Doyle burst out of the building and stormed across the car park, closely followed by Bodie. Murphy took a sip of his tea and frowned as Bodie caught up with his partner, his hands held out in a placating gesture. Anson joined him at the window and peered down at the scene in the car park.
Whatever Bodie was saying, Doyle wasn't having any of it. Murphy sighed as Doyle kept on yelling at Bodie, waving his arms around and jabbing his finger towards Bodie's chest. After abot a minute Bodie took a tenative step forward, his head lowered and hands held out towards his partner.
Murphy watched as Doyle clenched his fists and raised his chin in response. Just leave it, Bodie. Let him have his tantrum and get it out of his system. There's no talking to him when he's...
Murphy winced as Doyle shoved Bodie hard with both hands, causing him to stagger backwards and crash into the bonnet of one of the parked cars.
Ouch. Told you so...
Murphy flinched in sympathy as Bodie picked himself off the bonnet of the car and rubbed at his hip, limping towards Doyle. Even now though, Doyle hadn't finished. Even through the glass of the window and from a height of fifteen feet, Murphy could still hear the muffled sound of Doyle shouting, raging at Bodie in the carpark.
Beside him, Anson folded his arms and shook his head. “That Bodie's got the patience of a saint sometimes. I swear I'd rip his balls off if Doyle tried something like that with me.”
Murphy snorted into his mug of tea. “I'd like to see you try, mate.”
Anson shrugged and nodded towards the figures below them. It seemed that Doyle had finally vented all his anger as he spun away from Bodie and stormed towards the main road. Anson and Murphy watched as Bodie squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and trotted after Doyle.
Anson raised an eyebrow at Murphy. “At least I wouldn't stick around to be treated like his personal punching bag.” He turned away from the window and sat back down in his armchair, grabbing the latest copy of The Sun and turning to page three. “Bodie's a glutton for punishment, he really is. I don't know why he puts up with it.”
* * * * *
The pub was already crowded when Murphy entered, shuffling his way through the mass of people towards the usual table by the darts board. He rubbed his hands together as McCabe shoved a full pint of lager towards him. “Oh, you little beauty.” He took a long, greedy gulp and perched himself on a low bar stool. “I've been gagging for this all week.”
McCabe took a handful of salted peanuts from the open packet on the table and turned towards him with a grin. “Yeah, we heard you'd been having a rotten time of it lately with the Sunshine Twins over there.” He gave a short nod of his head towards Bodie and Doyle at the next table. Murphy twisted his neck and saw Doyle slouched against the wall, his pint untouched in front of him. Beside him, Bodie leaned forward, his elbows on the table, slowly ripping up one of the Royal Oak's beer mats.
Murphy lowed his voice. “They've been at it all week, like a bloody old married couple. Doyle's got a bee in his bonnet over the Goddard girl, blaming the world and its uncle for what happened, and poor old Bodie's spent the best part of the week just reining him in and stopping Doyle from getting fired.”
McCabe opened up a second packet of peanuts. “That was rough, though, what they did to the Goddard kid. The way they cut her up like that. What kind of a sick bastard does that to a pretty girl?” McCabe shoved another handful of peanuts into his mouth and glanced over at Doyle. “But he always takes it too far. I mean, shit happens. If Doyle can't deal with it then maybe it is time he found another line of work.”
At the next table, Bodie dropped the shredded remains of the beer mat onto the table and leaned back, turning towards Doyle, muttering something under his breath. Murphy watched as Doyle shrugged his shoulders in response and stared unblinkingly at the floor.
Murphy took another long swig of his lager. Not speaking to him then, eh? Poor old sod, what's he done wrong now?
Bodie shifted closer to Doyle, his face hidden from Murphy's line of sight. Doyle turned his head away, gazing resolutely instead at the crowd of people filling the pub. Another movement from Bodie, and he was right next to Doyle, their knees bumping under the little round table.
Murphy lowered his pint. Just give up, Bodie. Let him sulk, it's not worth it.
Doyle wiped a hand across his face, shaking his head at whatever Bodie was saying. Then, without looking at his partner, he shoved the table away and stalked out of the pub.
McCabe let out a low whistle. “Touchy little sod, isn't he?” They sat in silence as Bodie downed the last of his pint, grabbed his jacket and made his way through the crowd after his partner. McCabe dug in his pocket for his wallet and headed towards the bar. “Honestly, I just don't know why Bodie puts up with him sometimes...”
* * * * * * *
Murphy took the stairs slowly, gripping tightly on to the bannister and wincing as his throbbing head pounded with every step. He opened the door to the top bedroom and lowered himself on to the camp bed tucked inside the door. At the other end of the room, Jax looked down at him from behind his binoculars, currently fixed on number 12 Myrtle Street. “Oh look.” he snorted. “It's the bloody cavalry.”
Murphy groaned and flung an arm across his face, blinking against the dim sunlight coming in through the net curtains. “It was McCabe.” He muttered. “Bloody McCabe and his just one pint more...”
Jax grinned and adjusted his binoculars. “I'm sure you deserve everything you get. And you're late, mate. Happy and Dopey have been here since dawn.” Murphy rolled over in the camp bed and peered down the hallway to the box-room opposite. Bodie was standing at the doorway, arms folded tightly across his chest, leaning against the open door. Inside the room, Doyle was sitting at a tiny, foldaway table, headphones on and fiddling with the dials on the audio recorder.
Jax lowered his binoculars. “It's been two hours, and Doyle hasn't said a word to either of us since he got here Bodie reckons he's all focussed on catching McGregor, but if you ask me, he's being a petulant little bastard. You might want to watch your step today.” Jax indicated a brown, liquid stain on the wall of the bedroom. “We're a mug down, if you want tea.”
Murphy leaned up on one elbow. “Doyle did that?”
Jax nodded. “Apparently he doesn't agree with the pace of the investigation.” He eyed up the slowly drying tea stain. “Seems that Goddard girl's really got to him.”
Murphy sat up on the edge of the camp bed and watched as Doyle frowned, threw his headphones down and shoved the little table away from him. Petulant was definitely the word for it. In the hallway, Bodie stepped forward, entered the room and shut the door behind them.
Jax raised an eyebrow. “Rather him than me.” He picked up the binoculars again and pointed them at number 12. “I honestly don't know how Bodie puts up with it sometimes.”
* * * * * * *
Doyle smothered a giggle as the off-key rendition of Please Release Me drifted through the flat. He nudged the bathroom door open with his foot and put the two steaming cups of tea down on the cabinet by the sink. In the bathtub, Bodie sang along to the radio, his head bobbing along to the music. He grinned up at Doyle as he reached for his tea.
“Ah, bloody lovely that. Thanks mate.”
Doyle took a sip of his own tea and tutted at the water splashing over the side of the bathtub. “Oi, you cretin, you're getting the floor all wet.” He perched on the edge of the loo and flicked Bodie's ear. “And you left your clothes all over the bedroom floor. If you think I'm picking them up for you, you've got another thing coming.”
Bodie just waved a hand and hummed along to the music.
“Cretin” Doyle repeated. He leaned forward and tugged gently on a lock of Bodie's hair, tilting his head to one side to examine the stitches on Bodie's cheekbone. Bodie let out a low hiss as Doyle's fingers brushed across the bruise forming below the wound.
“That was a bloody stupid thing to do, you know that?” Doyle knelt down beside the bathtub and rested his hands on the edge of the tub. “Just five more minutes, and backup would have been there and we'd have had McGregor bang to rights.”
Bodie leaned his head against the back of the tub. “Yeah, and another girl would have been cut to pieces. You saw what he did to Lucy Goddard. She's 17 years old, Doyle. How's she supposed to get over that? It'll be years before she'll be able to look at herself in a mirror again.” Bodie sucked in a breath and turned his head towards Doyle. “Anyway, you had my back, right?”
Doyle leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss against Bodie's temple. “Always, mate.”
He settled himself back down by the bathtub and took another gulp of tea. “It was still a bloody stupid thing to do. And they call me the reckless one. You gave me a bloody heart attack today, Bodie. And to top it all off, we're out of milk when it's your turn to go to the shop.”
Doyle grinned as a soapy, bubbly hand reached out of the bathtub to ruffle his hair. “Honestly Bodie, I don't know why I put up with you sometimes...”