Castlefield Junction by fawsley, white Cortina with Sam and Gene
Title: Castlefield Junction
Author: fawsley
Characters: DCI/DI
Rating: white Cortina
Warning: nowt
Word Count: 360
Disclaimer: all the property of the BBC and Kudos
Notes: I do tend to dream of Genie, and last night saw him and Sam walking along the canal towpath not saying anything but meaning quite a lot. I'm happy enough writing the pair of them bantering like a couple of old biddies, but capturing introspective!Gene's voice is not something I've tried before and bloody difficult it is too (feel he's far too ey oop Northern here rewrote all that out). Of course this has nothing of the atmosphere of the dream, but I think it's the closest I'm going to get.
Castlefield Junction
Could’ve happened at any one of so many other times.
Times when I’ve hoisted his scrawny arse out of whatever load of trouble he’s got himself into (too many to count).
Whenever he did the same for me own arse (not scrawny in any shape or form, bloody magnificent in fact, and the times’re too few to mention).
Times when someone else hoisted our joint arses (pretty damn fine together) - actually, that’s never happened (know that for certain - got a photographic memory, I have).
Whenever there was danger, all heavin’ breath and poundin’ blood, that kind of thing, that’s when you’d’ve thought it might have happened, but it never did.
Last place or time I ever expected, in the end.
Been down the Arms for a bit of a bevvy (not that I’d needed much to drink, just bein’ with him was intoxicatin’ enough), then out for a meal (some weird stuff I’d never had before and hardly anythin’ of it but bloody delicious all the same, bit like him really).
Moochin’ along the cut afterwards, no idea now where we thought we was headin’, not talkin’, just bein’ together, comfortable. And that was when it crept up on me. Not hit me, nothin’ as dramatic as that, more a gradual thing (not that it was all soft an’ poncy, I’m not a bloody fairy).
Sort of realised that I was fuckin’ happy, happy like what I hadn’t been for bloody well who knows how long (cos I don’t) and the reason why was right by me side with that soppy secret smile plastered all over his face. And I wondered to meself whether he was happy about bein’ with me too.
All I did was stop for a moment, say his name - Sam - and lay me hand on his shoulder but he was there in an instant, in me arms and sayin’ everythin’ I wanted to say but didn’t have the words for (not that he were usin’ words himself just then).
Always been bloody gobby, that one. Not that I minded what he were doin’ with said gob at the time, despite the garlic (nor have I minded for one moment since).
Author: fawsley
Characters: DCI/DI
Rating: white Cortina
Warning: nowt
Word Count: 360
Disclaimer: all the property of the BBC and Kudos
Notes: I do tend to dream of Genie, and last night saw him and Sam walking along the canal towpath not saying anything but meaning quite a lot. I'm happy enough writing the pair of them bantering like a couple of old biddies, but capturing introspective!Gene's voice is not something I've tried before and bloody difficult it is too (feel he's far too ey oop Northern here rewrote all that out). Of course this has nothing of the atmosphere of the dream, but I think it's the closest I'm going to get.
Castlefield Junction
Could’ve happened at any one of so many other times.
Times when I’ve hoisted his scrawny arse out of whatever load of trouble he’s got himself into (too many to count).
Whenever he did the same for me own arse (not scrawny in any shape or form, bloody magnificent in fact, and the times’re too few to mention).
Times when someone else hoisted our joint arses (pretty damn fine together) - actually, that’s never happened (know that for certain - got a photographic memory, I have).
Whenever there was danger, all heavin’ breath and poundin’ blood, that kind of thing, that’s when you’d’ve thought it might have happened, but it never did.
Last place or time I ever expected, in the end.
Been down the Arms for a bit of a bevvy (not that I’d needed much to drink, just bein’ with him was intoxicatin’ enough), then out for a meal (some weird stuff I’d never had before and hardly anythin’ of it but bloody delicious all the same, bit like him really).
Moochin’ along the cut afterwards, no idea now where we thought we was headin’, not talkin’, just bein’ together, comfortable. And that was when it crept up on me. Not hit me, nothin’ as dramatic as that, more a gradual thing (not that it was all soft an’ poncy, I’m not a bloody fairy).
Sort of realised that I was fuckin’ happy, happy like what I hadn’t been for bloody well who knows how long (cos I don’t) and the reason why was right by me side with that soppy secret smile plastered all over his face. And I wondered to meself whether he was happy about bein’ with me too.
All I did was stop for a moment, say his name - Sam - and lay me hand on his shoulder but he was there in an instant, in me arms and sayin’ everythin’ I wanted to say but didn’t have the words for (not that he were usin’ words himself just then).
Always been bloody gobby, that one. Not that I minded what he were doin’ with said gob at the time, despite the garlic (nor have I minded for one moment since).