Ashes to Ashes fic
Tiltle: Miss Marple
Author: echo_voice
Pairing: None really
Rating: Green cortina. Nothing worse than Gene's usual swearing
Word Count: 878
Summary: Sam is just getting used to the idea of his new job when he gets a phone call. Contains spoilers for Ashes to Ashes, I guess.
A/N: Okay, this was a little plot-bunny bouncing around my head because I can't get used to the idea of a Life On Mars style-program with Gene...but without Sam. I don't understand how they're going to write him off and give Gene a female partner instead. So the idea of this made me feel a bit better. In my happy sunshine world, this is what I'd like to happen to Sam (second to actually having another series of Life On Mars. Bugger this Ashes to Ashes thing - can you tell I'm suspicious of it?!)
It’s late. The lights are dim and Sam is still sat at his desk, scrutinising every detail of his current case. For once, it is all quiet: the others have left long before. The desk he is sat at is new to him, bigger, with a personality attached to it that Sam is having trouble coping with. He doesn’t like the little burn marks, made by dropped cigarette ash, and he has no idea what to do about the faint odour of whiskey that seems ingrained in the wood. He likes polish and in-trays, folders and neat little pots for his pens. Yet he can’t quite bring himself to do anything about it, so he sits there edgily and tries to concentrate on the case. It might be the desk of the DCI of A Division, but Sam can’t quite manage to translate that to being his desk just yet.
The phone rings and he wills it to shut up, but no such luck. One heavy hand falls onto the receiver and he picks it up.
“What?”
“You’re chirpy this evening, sunshine!”
“Guv?”
It’s automatic: Gene isn’t his guv anymore, not technically, but old habits die hard. For a split second it’s oddly good to hear Gene’s voice, but surprise and the usual irritation soon wins over any positive feelings initially stirred by the smoke-roughened voice.
“How’d you know I’d still be here?” Sam asks curiously. It’s late at night, or rather early in the morning, and the office should have been empty.
“Well, when I left you yesterday you had no life and cop’s intuition tells me that you haven’t miraculously found one since I left.” The voice pauses and Sam can practically hear Gene’s smug smile. “Plus, being the wonder detective that I am, I phoned your little love nest with Cartwright and she said you were still working. Can’t say I was surprised.”
“What do you want, Gene?” It’s late and Sam is not in the mood for this. He wants to get back to the case, find the little detail he’s so obviously missing.
Gene sniffs. “You can get your scrawny arse out of my chair, for a start. I’m coming home.”
“What? What about the promotion?”
“I couldn’t give a toss about the bleeding promotion! You have to help me, Sam.”
“Why, what have you done?” Sam sits up in his chair, worry now on his features. Had Gene hurt someone? Been hurt?
“I haven’t done anything! God, why do you always expect the worst of me? Charming.” Gene sounds affronted and Sam leans back again, rolling his eyes. “No, my problem is bloody Samantha!”
There is a pause where Sam takes the phone from his ear and glares at it. “I’m not in the mood for your petty name calling…”
“Oh get your head out from your arse, Tyler. I’m not talking ‘bout you! I’ve been partnered with Miss bleeding Marple!”
Another pause. “Are you drunk?”
“No! I bloody wish I was though. Christ, am I talking another language?”
“You’re the one who’s ranting on about Miss Marple at two o’clock in the morning!” Sam retorts angrily.
“Your replacement is a bleeding bird! My new partner is a fricking female! Is that English enough for you?” Gene practically shouts. There is silence on the phone line apart from Gene’s angry breathing. Then, “Are you laughing Tyler? You better not be bloody laughing.”
Sam is laughing uncontrollably, though trying hard not to, and it takes some serious self-restraint before he is able to uncover the mouthpiece again. “I wouldn’t dream of it, guv,” he reassures, but the humour is evident in his voice.
“I thought they were having a laugh when they sent me a nit picking little bastard like you, but now I’m supposed to work with a bit of skirt? Why won’t they give me a normal copper, someone like me, who’s not afraid to use their fists, get rid of the scum without taking notes while doing it…”
“You mean a chauvinistic, short fused lunatic who obviously drinks too much and definitely does snore…” Sam lists provocatively, enjoying winding Gene up far more than he probably should.
“I do not snore!” Gene snaps. “Cheers very much Tyler. I trust you to look after my patch in my absence, hand over my sheriff's badge and all I get in return is your usual snarky little comments! Well, y'know I actually feel a bit better about it all now. At least in this dump I no longer have to bloody put up with you!”
Sam smirks. “Perhaps a female partner will be a good thing,” he says lightly.
“What?” Gene is clearly unimpressed by this theory and Sam leans back in the chair, crossing his outstretched legs.
“Maybe a female partner will widen your horizons a bit. Not that your horizons need any widening, if you know what I’m saying…”
“When I get back to Manchester, Sammy-boy, I am going to kick your arse so hard that you won’t be able to sit in my DCI chair anymore! And while we’re on the subject, you better not be turning my office into some poofter’s palace! The mess is organised, Tyler, don’t you forget it, and if you put one little thing into alphabetical order…”
Sam puts down the receiver before letting himself laugh properly. Gene Hunt might be in London, but it still seems the safer thing to do.
All comments are very gratefully received.