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Resolution

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It started to sleet as they pulled up outside Bodie’s flat. Big, wet, slushy flakes falling out of the darkness onto the windscreen, smudging the amber glow of the street lights.

Easing himself out of the car, Bodie heard a nearby church tolling the midnight hour. What a way to see in the New Year, he thought wryly as, undeterred by the weather, the pop, whistle and bang of fireworks lit up the sky in a kaleidoscope of colour in the distance.

Getting out the driver’s side, Doyle slammed the door shut and stalked round to where Bodie stood. He glared in what Bodie took to be an impatient request to get moving.

Wearily Bodie complied, trying to walk smoothly despite the agony of his sprained ankle as he led the way into the building, knowing he wasn’t fooling anyone. He was grateful to find the lift sitting unused on the ground floor, the token strip of gold tinsel sellotaped dutifully on top of the door-frame looking limp but defiant. Much like himself.

He blindly counted off the floors as they trundled upwards in a brittle silence. It might only be sleeting outside, but he suspected he was about to encounter a fucking big storm inside his flat. And wasn’t that going to be just the perfect way to round off the day.

Herded wordlessly out of the lift to his front door, Bodie fumbled with his key in the latch, hampered by the cuts and grazes on his hand. Aware of the irate presence crowding behind him, he eventually got the wretched key in and turned, and flicked the light on as he opened the door.

He’d barely stepped inside when he was ruthlessly grabbed and thrown up against the wall.

Kicking the door shut with his foot, Doyle pressed himself up against the length of his partner, heedless of Bodie’s injuries.

Trapped painfully where he stood, Bodie’s pulse speeded up with a surge of adrenaline at this sudden assault. He felt the heat and hardness of Doyle, felt him virtually vibrating with fury.

He’d known Doyle was angry, furious even, but had been expecting only a verbal onslaught… not this… this... almost violent fury, crushing up against him. Doyle smelt of sweat and smoke and his own distinctive aroma, a dirty, heady mix that made Bodie’s heart beat even faster.

Doyle pinned him with a ferocious scowl and Bodie braced himself for the oral barrage.

But instead Doyle kissed him, fiercely, forcing his tongue into Bodie’s mouth, lips devouring him.

Desire overcoming shock, Bodie kissed him back just as hard, matching his force as their tongues duelled, an unrealised yearning uncurling inside him, until finally Doyle drew back and the barrage began.

“You bastard! Don’t you ever do that to me again!” Doyle yelled, still holding him against the wall, his eyes a blaze of emerald fire.

Hackles rising, Bodie glared back at him. With the echo of Doyle’s kiss still tingling on his lips, lust and anger sparred within him, and he couldn’t decide which to unleash. Doyle looked wild and dangerous… beautiful…

“Well?” Doyle demanded, brutally tightening his grip and pressing himself harder against Bodie. “Got nothing to say, you selfish bastard?”

“It’s part of the fucking job, Doyle, taking risks!” Bodie shot back, his anger winning. “And you’d have done the same if you’d heard that woman say her husband was still inside!” He felt a flash of fear slice through him as he imagined Doyle running back into the department store moments before the blast...

“It wasn’t just a risk, Bodie,” Doyle snarled. “It was fucking suicidal, and you know it!”

“Still here, aren’t I?” Bodie snapped. “And I found her old man too, didn’t I?”

“From pure luck! Nothing else!” Doyle looked haunted and he kissed Bodie again, plundering his mouth, demanding his submission. He ground his hips against Bodie’s, his arousal prominent, heightening Bodie’s own, making him moan into Doyle’s mouth. “You're gonna promise me.” Doyle’s voice was harsh, breathless, lips still touching Bodie's. “Never again.” Another searing kiss, long and deep, inviting surrender. “Never again,” he repeated, softer this time, a plea, melting the last vestiges of anger. His grip on Bodie loosened, his hands instead sweeping possessively over Bodie’s chest. “No more stupid fucking risks...” He kissed Bodie, gently, lips soft, persuasive, irresistible. “Fucking promise me, Bodie…” he said, huskily now. “Say it…”

Heart beating rapidly, cock rock hard, emotions disgustingly mushy, Bodie distantly marvelled at the turn of events and decided that perhaps this wasn’t such a bad way to see in the New Year, after all. He wasn’t given to making New Year’s resolutions, couldn’t see the point of them usually…

But this one...? For Doyle…?

“I promise,” he whispered.

***