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Bodie Goes To Market

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Doyle leaned over the balcony of his flat, glancing left, then right. Where was that berk? Damned Bodie. Always independent. Idiot. He'd only been out of hospital for three days, yet he'd insisted he could do his marketing alone. Not only that, but he'd walked to the grocer's instead of driving. Said he needed some air.

"Of all the bloody morons," Doyle muttered darkly.

Finally, a dark figure turned the corner and made slow progress up the pavement. As Bodie drew closer, Doyle could see that the very process of putting one foot in front of the other was taking its toll.

"Idiot," Doyle turned and made his way out the front door and down the stairs. There was no way he was letting his hard-headed yet strangely vulnerable partner walk up the stairs. If the lift refused to cooperate, he'd carry Bodie up, flung over his shoulder if necessary.

On the landing, he stood, hands on hips until Bodie made it into the foyer.

Bodie's eyes lifted and their gazes met. Doyle was not surprised that even in his somewhat diminished condition, his lover's eyes still reflected his salacious intents.

"Are you always this stupid?" Doyle growled.

Bodie grinned. "Yeah. Got a problem with that?"

At Bodie's side, Doyle took the carrier bags from the slightly shaking fingers. "I always have a problem with you. Destined to be your nanny, it seems."

"Doyle?"

"Yeah?" He looked into his lover's tired eyes.

"You know I love you, right?"

"Okay. Yeah. I know."

"You know those eggs you needed for tonight's dinner?"

Doyle's eyes narrowed. "You forgot?"

"No. I dropped them."

"Did you pass out in the street?"

Bodie looked affronted. "Of course not! Just sort of -- sat down unexpectedly."

"Come on, you. Tender, lovin' care. That's what you need."

When the lift arrived, they entered and Bodie slipped an arm across Doyle's shoulders. He leaned toward Doyle and whispered lovingly into his ear, "You're dripping eggs on your new trainers."