Fic: Teamwork - Life on Mars Phyllis/Gene
Title: Teamwork
Author: dragonlit
Recipient:momentarylapse8
Rating: Blue Cortina - just to make sure
Word Count: 1212
Notes/Warnings: Writen for the martianholiday fic exchange. The prompt was for Phyllis and Gene when he was a young copper.
Summary: Gene’s first exposure to Phyllis.
A new bunch of recruits and more work to be done, Phyllis thought as she shook her head. It always came down to her to train these plods and to show them who really ran the station.
“Oi, you with the short trousers,” she yelled.
The tall uniformed man turned around and slunk over to her, red-faced and tugging his trousers down.
“Yes ma’am,” he said approaching her desk.
He was a fine looking sort, not handsome in the traditional Hollywood pin-up mold like Clark Gable or Rock Hudson, but a pleasant face. He threw his shoulders back and stared down his nose at her. That looked showed defiance if she’d ever seen it. She’d be keeping an eye on this one.
“Name?”
“Hunt, ma’am. Constable Hunt.” His chest puffed out as he snapped to attention.
“This in’t the army, Constable, nor is it training school so you can drop the goose walking and such nonsense. Do you have a first name?” she asked.
He visibly relaxed and smiled at her.
“Gene, ma’am.”
“Your first day then?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a grin that lit up his face.
He might have some defiance in him, but he certainly showed enthusiasm, Phyllis thought.
“Welcome to my world,” she said. “You’ll need to get those trousers lengthened, regulations and all but for now, I need this one taken to cell…”
She looked down at her papers and after shuffling them about said, “cell number four.”
When Hunt remained glued to the spot, she looked up at him.
“Are you deaf, Hunt or are you just a retard?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, “I mean, no ma’am. I don’t know where cell four is. I don’t know where any of the detention cells are at all.”
“Right. Baker, you take this one while I give our new plod here a tour of the cell block,” she said, shaking her head. “Why is it always me? Come on then.”
She started down the corridor, Hunt following close at her heels. She rounded a corner and after walking 50 feet, found upon looking back, he was gone. She retraced her steps to find him peering into the Lost and Found.
“Hunt, you’re with me. Get your nose out of there,” she said.
“I’m listening to them grilling a suspect,” he said, nose firmly buried in the crack of the door.
“And how is your listening going to help,” she asked. What she really wanted to do was smack him on the head for wasting her time, but she’d been given two written warnings about that already this month and wasn’t looking for a third. Her DCI did not understand that the best way to deal with a new pup was to keep him in line right away.
“I know the scum,” he whispered. “He did it, I’m sure.”
“Now how would you know that? Do you even know what he’s been charged with?”
“Don’t need to know. I can tell by the look of him, you know. Feel it in my gut. Besides, even if he didn’t do this one, he’s broken other laws. They should let me at him,” Hunt said, fists clenched.
This one was going to be trouble. That was something Phyllis felt in her gut, and while Hunt’s gut was new and raw, hers certainly wasn’t. She tugged at his arm.
“When they make you a detective, you can nick all the bad ones you know of. For now, you’re with me so come on,” she said, hauling him away.
***
Phyllis was pleased at how quickly most of the new plods had learned their place in the hierarchy of the station and deferred to her. After a month though, she was still having problems with Hunt. He had been quick on the pickup of duties and paperwork but he still seemed like a wild card. He’d either go far or be dismissed in short order. She hoped it was the former as in spite of any issues she was having as far as his knowing his place, he was a charmer. He often brought her tea and her favourite biscuits and she was finding herself hard pressed to stay firm with him.
After a particularly taxing day, Phyllis went to do her last round of the detention cells and heard some faint noises coming from one that she knew should not have had any occupants. She pressed her ear up against the door and heard muffled sounds. With hands shaking, she turned the key in the lock and slowly opened the door, praying that it had been properly oiled by the useless maintenance man and finding her prayers answered.
Her jaw dropped as she saw her challenging plod spread-eagle against the side wall, his still too-short trousers pooled on the floor, and a gun pointed at his head. The young man holding the gun had his other weapon out as well and Phyllis was almost frozen to the spot at the site of it. She couldn’t remember having seen a penis that large and thick except in those silly pornos that her cousin had brought over on a lark. It was evident that the gun was the least of Hunt’s problems as the man had his very stiff erection pointed at Hunt’s naked behind. Nobody was going to get away with committing a crime in her cells, Phyllis thought as she clamped her mouth shut.
"Don't think you're putting that there, son," she said moving over to the gunman and kneeing him from behind in his very taut scrotum.
The man let out a howl and not one of pleasure that he might have thought was his to have. Phyllis snatched the gun from his limp grasp as he collapsed to the floor and turned it on him. Gene quickly scooped up his trousers and gingerly pulled them on to cover his firm behind. Phyllis was rather disappointed that it had been covered so quickly as it had been a very pleasant bottom to observe. When his belt was finally fastened, he grabbed Phyllis in his arms and swept her off the floor, almost squeezing the breath out of her.
The kiss that she found planted on her lips as he placed her on the ground and the thank you that he whispered in her ear would sustain her for years to come, of that she was certain.
Hunt turned and gave the groaning gunman a swift kick to the kidney and grabbed the gun from Phyllis’s hand, instructing her to get another constable in there right away. She turned on her heels and ran down the corridor. When she returned to the cell with reinforcements, Gene was sitting on the bench, the gun trained on the man who was now bleeding from the nose.
“I see you’ve subdued him,” she said, the side of her lip lifting in a half-grin.
“Same scum I saw that first day here,” Hunt nodded at her. “Told you as I could take care of him. Felt it in my gut.”
“Looked to me like he was about to take care of you,” Phyllis reminded him.
“Team work though, wasn’t it,” Hunt said, nodding to her. “Here’s hoping you’re always on my team Phyllis.”
She nodded, knowing that she’d starting his training well and now she was certain that he’d go far.
Author: dragonlit
Recipient:momentarylapse8
Rating: Blue Cortina - just to make sure
Word Count: 1212
Notes/Warnings: Writen for the martianholiday fic exchange. The prompt was for Phyllis and Gene when he was a young copper.
Summary: Gene’s first exposure to Phyllis.
A new bunch of recruits and more work to be done, Phyllis thought as she shook her head. It always came down to her to train these plods and to show them who really ran the station.
“Oi, you with the short trousers,” she yelled.
The tall uniformed man turned around and slunk over to her, red-faced and tugging his trousers down.
“Yes ma’am,” he said approaching her desk.
He was a fine looking sort, not handsome in the traditional Hollywood pin-up mold like Clark Gable or Rock Hudson, but a pleasant face. He threw his shoulders back and stared down his nose at her. That looked showed defiance if she’d ever seen it. She’d be keeping an eye on this one.
“Name?”
“Hunt, ma’am. Constable Hunt.” His chest puffed out as he snapped to attention.
“This in’t the army, Constable, nor is it training school so you can drop the goose walking and such nonsense. Do you have a first name?” she asked.
He visibly relaxed and smiled at her.
“Gene, ma’am.”
“Your first day then?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a grin that lit up his face.
He might have some defiance in him, but he certainly showed enthusiasm, Phyllis thought.
“Welcome to my world,” she said. “You’ll need to get those trousers lengthened, regulations and all but for now, I need this one taken to cell…”
She looked down at her papers and after shuffling them about said, “cell number four.”
When Hunt remained glued to the spot, she looked up at him.
“Are you deaf, Hunt or are you just a retard?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, “I mean, no ma’am. I don’t know where cell four is. I don’t know where any of the detention cells are at all.”
“Right. Baker, you take this one while I give our new plod here a tour of the cell block,” she said, shaking her head. “Why is it always me? Come on then.”
She started down the corridor, Hunt following close at her heels. She rounded a corner and after walking 50 feet, found upon looking back, he was gone. She retraced her steps to find him peering into the Lost and Found.
“Hunt, you’re with me. Get your nose out of there,” she said.
“I’m listening to them grilling a suspect,” he said, nose firmly buried in the crack of the door.
“And how is your listening going to help,” she asked. What she really wanted to do was smack him on the head for wasting her time, but she’d been given two written warnings about that already this month and wasn’t looking for a third. Her DCI did not understand that the best way to deal with a new pup was to keep him in line right away.
“I know the scum,” he whispered. “He did it, I’m sure.”
“Now how would you know that? Do you even know what he’s been charged with?”
“Don’t need to know. I can tell by the look of him, you know. Feel it in my gut. Besides, even if he didn’t do this one, he’s broken other laws. They should let me at him,” Hunt said, fists clenched.
This one was going to be trouble. That was something Phyllis felt in her gut, and while Hunt’s gut was new and raw, hers certainly wasn’t. She tugged at his arm.
“When they make you a detective, you can nick all the bad ones you know of. For now, you’re with me so come on,” she said, hauling him away.
***
Phyllis was pleased at how quickly most of the new plods had learned their place in the hierarchy of the station and deferred to her. After a month though, she was still having problems with Hunt. He had been quick on the pickup of duties and paperwork but he still seemed like a wild card. He’d either go far or be dismissed in short order. She hoped it was the former as in spite of any issues she was having as far as his knowing his place, he was a charmer. He often brought her tea and her favourite biscuits and she was finding herself hard pressed to stay firm with him.
After a particularly taxing day, Phyllis went to do her last round of the detention cells and heard some faint noises coming from one that she knew should not have had any occupants. She pressed her ear up against the door and heard muffled sounds. With hands shaking, she turned the key in the lock and slowly opened the door, praying that it had been properly oiled by the useless maintenance man and finding her prayers answered.
Her jaw dropped as she saw her challenging plod spread-eagle against the side wall, his still too-short trousers pooled on the floor, and a gun pointed at his head. The young man holding the gun had his other weapon out as well and Phyllis was almost frozen to the spot at the site of it. She couldn’t remember having seen a penis that large and thick except in those silly pornos that her cousin had brought over on a lark. It was evident that the gun was the least of Hunt’s problems as the man had his very stiff erection pointed at Hunt’s naked behind. Nobody was going to get away with committing a crime in her cells, Phyllis thought as she clamped her mouth shut.
"Don't think you're putting that there, son," she said moving over to the gunman and kneeing him from behind in his very taut scrotum.
The man let out a howl and not one of pleasure that he might have thought was his to have. Phyllis snatched the gun from his limp grasp as he collapsed to the floor and turned it on him. Gene quickly scooped up his trousers and gingerly pulled them on to cover his firm behind. Phyllis was rather disappointed that it had been covered so quickly as it had been a very pleasant bottom to observe. When his belt was finally fastened, he grabbed Phyllis in his arms and swept her off the floor, almost squeezing the breath out of her.
The kiss that she found planted on her lips as he placed her on the ground and the thank you that he whispered in her ear would sustain her for years to come, of that she was certain.
Hunt turned and gave the groaning gunman a swift kick to the kidney and grabbed the gun from Phyllis’s hand, instructing her to get another constable in there right away. She turned on her heels and ran down the corridor. When she returned to the cell with reinforcements, Gene was sitting on the bench, the gun trained on the man who was now bleeding from the nose.
“I see you’ve subdued him,” she said, the side of her lip lifting in a half-grin.
“Same scum I saw that first day here,” Hunt nodded at her. “Told you as I could take care of him. Felt it in my gut.”
“Looked to me like he was about to take care of you,” Phyllis reminded him.
“Team work though, wasn’t it,” Hunt said, nodding to her. “Here’s hoping you’re always on my team Phyllis.”
She nodded, knowing that she’d starting his training well and now she was certain that he’d go far.