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Somebody Call an Ambulance

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There was nothing Henry loved more than to watch other people work and, right now, work on his retro bike transporter was well underway and everyone was working except for him - just how he liked it, he thought, jokingly. He smiled and sipped his tea, watching his two good friends lugging period items to and fro, installing such things as an old, weather-beaten workbench and an enamelled first aid cabinet inside the Morris Ambulance. Guy and Sam had been run off their feet for about half an hour.

But little did he know that Lovegrove was also watching him - very closely, out of the corner of his eye - and, as Henry left his seat to pop into the sheds to make another cup of tea, bawling "Cuppa anyone?" at the top of his lungs, Sam couldn't help but smile, knowing that he and Guy were finally alone - the latter of the two men currently bending down to gather some of the vintage tranklements in his arms. Cheeky Sam curled a finger around the rear belt loop of Guy's jeans and tugged on it, teasingly. Willison span around and gave a sly grin when he saw who it was.

"I want to give you the kiss of life inside the ambulance," Sam bent down to join him and whispered the sentence, sensually, into his ear. What else was there to say? They were together and Henry was away and, when the cat's away, mice could play. After that, the pair of them didn't hang around for very long.

The kettle only took a short while to boil. In fact, with hindsight, it did not nearly take long enough. Knowing what he would come to unexpectedly see, Henry wished he'd stuck around to munch on a chocolate biscuit or two. But he wanted to keep the two lads happy, and tea would keep them going for sure - it was their lifeblood - nectar of the gods. So it came as some surprise when the bearded presenter shouted "Tea fellas!" out of the open window and received no response. How strange.

So he twisted his fingers into an awkward shape so that he could hold two mugs of steaming hot tea in one hand, and one with the other, and brought them out and plonked them onto the table, barely losing a drop of the scorching liquid. The sound hadn't lured them out of hiding. Where the hell were they? They couldn't both be in the Morris, surely; it was a hell of a tight squeeze in the back, what with all of the items he had been furnishing it with - the oil cans, the repainted miniature chest of drawers, and so on.

In the end, Cole wished he hadn't checked to see if they were in there. Because they were in there, alright - they were in there: Guy was sitting perched atop the wooden workbench, his back to the wall and his legs wrapped around Sam, leaving mucky dust marks all over his boiler suit, as Sam thrust him backwards and passionately kissed him, moving from his neck, to his jaw and his lips, leaving him speechless - Guy grasped at the woollen material of Sam's hat, and moaned, far louder than poor Henry's ears could take, as the arse of his jeans ground roughly against the bench, adding to its already gnarled patina.

"Sam, you're filthy," he had grunted.

"That's cus I've been working on the Morris' engine," there was small giggle.

"--Ahem," Henry interrupted them by loudly clearing his throat. The pair looked through the crack between the slightly open doors of the van to see a pair of surprised eyes peeping through the gap. "Oh my god," they heard the blonde-haired biker cry. It sounded as though he was going to go into hyperventilation. "Someone poke my eyes out with a screwdriver. I want to be blind! Make me blliiinnnddd," he screamed, running away from the classic Morris.

Sam looked to his lover, sighed and rolled his eyes. "I thought you said he was making tea," Guy emitted a low hiss.

"He was," Sam replied, quite calmly - having said that, Sam was always calm. "He must have finished making it," he helped Willison down and they both made their way to the exit, and peered out of the doorway. When Henry dared to glance their way, Lovegrove cranked the doors open fully. "We were going to tell you--" he began.

"--Going to tell me?" Cole was very alarmed and high pitched. "Skid - you're half-dressed!" he exclaimed, and Guy hurriedly began to pull his trousers up and re-adjust his braces. "Oh my lord," Henry just shook his head. He was going to bloody start hyperventilating again - he knew it. At least he'd bought the right vehicle for such an occasion - he couldn't have imagined anything more appropriate than an ambulance, under the circumstances. His pulse must have been through the roof. But he found himself suddenly beginning to laugh too, slightly nervously at first. "You two - I can't believe it," his shocked expression turned to a smile - a baffled smile.

"I knew he'd come round eventually," the ever-relaxed Sam allayed Guy's fears, an arm wrapped around the older man's waist, and a kiss in his hair.