Fic: Appearances (Part Fifteen) by Mikey, brown cortina
Title: Appearances, Part Fifteen
Authors: mikes_grrl, with angeweeks on ‘Gene dialogue duty’ and more than a little credit to draycevixen for plot assistance.
Rating: Brown Cortina (NC-17)
Pairing: Gene/Sam
Warnings: AU, post-2.08, and a sprinkling of original characters.
Disclaimer: All owned by Kudos, kudos to them. I’m just having fun.
Word Count: 50,000~ total (part Fifteen, 3,000)
Summary: Sam tries to broaden Gene’s horizons but Gene won’t listen to reason (surprise) and sure as hell won’t ‘dialogue’. Meanwhile the city is experiencing a rash of hate crimes, a few of which are perpetrated against gay men, just as queer activism hits Manchester.
NOTES to Part Fifteen: Yay! More! And as a reward for all your patience, a very long chapter filled with pr0n. This scene is probably the second most re-written one in this story, and again, it was Gene's fault (not mine, natch). I like how it ended up, but some might think him a bit OOC here. *shrugs* I still like it.
This puts us at 30k words down, 20k to go...
Appearances:
Prologue; Part One; Part Two; Part Three; Part Four; Part Five; Part Six; Part Seven; Part Eight; Part Nine; Part Ten; Part Eleven; Part Twelve; Part Thirteen; Part Fourteen
(Undercover-AU:
I. Undercover
II. Exposed
III. Smirk)
Appearances, Part Fifteen
Sam was tight like a rubber band and kept massaging his neck as they ate dinner. Sam basically invited himself over, and for a cooked meal Gene was willing to put up with a lot, but now Sam sat sulking over his food and Gene suspected it was more to do with personal issues than work, but that can of worms he was leaving on the shelf. He did not need Sam telling him they were done one day earlier than absolutely necessary, and Gene felt like a coward and knew he was a coward but Sam always brought out the worst in him, so this was not any different.
Sam got up and put his dishes in the sink and cracked his arms, and Gene just watched.
“What?” Sam asked irritably.
“Here.” Gene threw down his napkin and walked over to Sam, spinning him around so his back was to him. Gene reached around high, at upper chest level, and yanked as he leaned back. Sam’s back let out a series of pops and he cried out in surprise. Gene held for a moment then set him down, and Sam leaned back against his chest.
“Damn, that was orgasmic.”
Gene wrapped his arms around Sam gently and pulled him in. “If that got you off, I’ve been doing something wrong.”
“No,” Sam said quietly and pressed against him. This was his Sam, and everything about Sam he needed, and Gene closed his eyes for a moment, unable to say those very words. Instead he brought up a hand to Sam’s chin and tilted his head up and back, and leaned forward into a soft kiss. He felt Sam breathe in sharply but Gene did not move otherwise, and stood resolutely still as he kissed him. He wanted Sam to know this was not about shagging, and of course he failed miserably as his hard-on began pressing against them both. He still did not move until Sam broke the kiss to turn around and begin kissing back in earnest, and now it was about shagging, and Gene was furious. He pushed Sam back and they stared at each other.
“What…?” Sam asked, confused, and it was obviously his word of the day.
Gene stepped forward, then back, and Sam shook his head, looking worried as he watched, and Gene was grateful to God that at least he was keeping his trap shut for once. Finally Gene went to his knees and took Sam down with a quick tug, catching him and laying him down on the floor. Sam laughed, relieved, and began moving his legs apart for Gene, tugging at his shirt to bring him in. Gene pulled off angrily and shoved Sam’s legs together and straddled him, sitting over his knees, and began undoing Sam’s trousers. He knew how he felt: possessed, disappointed, and angry, and he knew Sam saw part of that because Sam was not saying a word.
Sam was hard and Gene loved the boy’s…no, the man, Sam was a full grown man and his partner, and he loved the man’s cock. He had been fucked raw by it once and held it too often to count but he never tasted it and now he did, bending over with his hands on the floor on either side of Sam’s hips. He often told Sam he was not one for foreplay and now he really meant it, running Sam’s cock fully into his mouth, sucking on it hard as he pulled back up and tongued the underside of the head before swallowing it all down again. He had not gone down on anyone in years, but hell, it was not something a man forgot how to do, even if he, himself, was not a ‘boy’ anymore. He let his senses drift in the dark, musky odor of Sam’s arousal as he pulled and pushed his mouth over Sam’s cock, remembering and learning.
“Gene….?” Sam gasped and Gene felt him pull up his torso to look down at him. “What the hell….oh god…yes…” Sam was already starting to buck and moan, and Gene’s weight on his knees and legs kept it down some but Sam’s hips were jerking, trying to thrust deeply into Gene’s mouth. He let him. He was not going to stop Sam or hold him back or keep him quiet, he was going to let Sam do what he wanted. Gene needed all of Sam and this was the one part he never took yet, and perhaps it was not a declaration of undying love but it was all that Gene could offer, and he knew with near certainty it was something someone like Larry would never do. Now this could be his. His fingers curled against the floor, wanting to grab Sam’s hips to hold him down, but he refused to do it.
“Yes…oh god I’ve dreamed of this…wanted you…wanted to fuck your filthy mouth you bloody gorgeous cop…yes…yes…” Sam’s words turned to whines as his body pushed him into his passion, and Gene really did not have to do much of anything now except keep his teeth out of the way and his mouth open as Sam fucked his face. He was surprised that Sam had not grabbed his head, but when he finally glanced up he saw why and nearly came himself. Sam was arched in the air, both hands pressed against the cupboard doors behind his head, holding his upper body in tension as tight as a spring as his hips snapped, shoving his cock into Gene’s mouth. “…love you…Gene…yes, please god yes…I love you…fuck…”
Sam’s whole body came. He jerked loose and curled forward, yelling, finally pushing Gene’s head down and Gene closed his eyes and held his breath trying not to gag as Sam’s cock pounded into him mercilessly. Sam stopped cold, completely frozen as the wave passed over him, and it was nearly a full second before he let go of Gene’s head and sat back as Gene pulled up. He knew he looked like hell and he kept his face down, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, trying not to think of what David would say, and suddenly Sam was all over him, kissing him as if trying to suck his own cum back up Gene’s throat. He was ripping his own clothes off and Gene shoved him back.
“No. That was yours.”
“You bloody poof, I’m yours and you need to fuck me. NOW.”
Gene fell backwards with Sam on top of him, stripping them both and who knows what the hell he was expecting to use as lube, but it was almost perfect enough for Gene to believe that what Sam said was true.
----------------
He decided would tell Gene in the morning. They spent the whole evening and half the night having sex and it was incredible, and Gene was 100% there and selfishly, Sam did not want to lose that too soon. Gene went down on him in the kitchen and then fucked him on the floor and thirty minutes later they were in the shower, Sam sitting on the edge of the tub giving head as hot water poured over Gene’s body. Sam even managed to finger fuck Gene as they groped down the hallway, hitting his prostrate and sending him into an oblivion so deep Gene shook for minutes afterward. When Sam first went for it as they dragged each other out of the bathroom, his fingers ghosting over Gene’s backside, probing gently between his arse cheeks, Gene gave him a stern look of warning that melted under Sam’s touch. It was a submission that Sam rarely got and worshipped when he did. They never made it to bed until they were so exhausted they could not even talk in complete sentences and it was a night that Sam figured he would remember until the day he died. He almost regretted that, because how could any other experience ever match up? He tried not to worry about the future as he drifted to sleep, Gene next to him, snoring like a damn train.
When he woke up, Gene was in the shower, starting their morning routine on cue. Gene was always all business in the mornings - never a quickie, never cuddles or so much as a kiss, it was as if a switch was tripped and Gene put on his mantle of DCI Hunt the second his eyes popped open. Sam respected that and never argued it, preferring to keep their private life as removed as possible from work, despite the fact that was becoming more difficult to do. He knew this morning, in fact, it was going to be impossible. As he rolled out of bed, sore in the best way and nervous in the worst, he stood naked in the middle of the room, wondering what in the hell the last twelve hours were about. Gene was good at sending messages that Sam never received or could not decipher when he did, and Sam thought back to Larry’s somewhat prophetic statement that they were from different eras. It was only then that it occurred to Sam that Gene was telling him something, and to save his soul, Sam had no clue as to what. He thought, and contemplated, and then heard Gene in the doorway. He turned and saw him half dressed, towel over his shoulders, staring at him.
“Don’ tell me I finally found the way to shut you up.”
Sam pulled on his sweats instinctively although it was too late for a run. “What’s going on?”
“Meaning?”
“Last night.”
“I was horny and you were available.” Gene snapped the towel off and threw it on the bed, walking to the closet for his shirt and shoes.
“Last of the great romantics.”
“Flowers or a fuck, Sam, take your pick.”
“Probably the best shag of my life.” Sam sat on the edge of the bed, his arms folded.
“I know.” Gene smirked as he put on his shirt and turned to Sam. “We need to fill this out in triplicate? I left the carbon paper at work.”
Sam frowned, then looked at the floor. “The Tower case.”
Gene froze and Sam saw something flicker through his eyes, something dark and raw and Sam did not want to face that down. In the clutch, under pressure, his mind folded and sorted out an answer, a reprieve, and Sam felt like he was damning himself even as he reached for it.
“You remember Jimmy Sterling?”
Gene squinted, but then nodded. “The student photog. Took our mug shots.”
“Yeah. Well…he knew Dan. Dan is que…gay. Jimmy says Dan was working with Dusty Moore to start a gay newspaper.” Sam bit his lip, waiting for the derogatory slurs, but instead Gene looked at him steadily, motionless. As if he was not surprised, and now Sam wondered if he was. “Did you know?”
“…No.”
It was a lie and both knew it, but Sam could not figure out why Gene would lie much less how Gene knew that fact already, and they stared at each other until Gene bent down to grab his shoes. He walked to the chair across from the bed and sat down to put on his socks, casually, without looking at Sam again.
“Didn’ know you were keeping in touch with that boy.”
“I made a deal with him after the Franklin case. He stayed here so I can keep an eye on him, been meeting with him every couple of weeks to make sure he’s on the up an’ up. Good kid, he’s doing well.” Sam smiled, proud of Jimmy, despite it all.
“What, like…parole?” Gene leaned back in the chair, impersonal and thoughtful.
“Just like. Yeah.”
“Smart. I wondered how you kept him out of our reports.”
Sam grimaced, remembering writing up two sets of reports because his DCI thought he ‘had a grip’ on everything and typed faster anyway. “Look, I don’ think the beatings are all related in the same way. I think Tower and Moore are linked by the paper, and only incidentally by the other beatings.”
“There is no doubt that Tower was hit by the same thugs as killed Rami and Edwards.” Gene shook his head.
“Yeah. I know.” Sam rubbed his hair, confused. “I talked to…Tower’s sister. Said he and his brother Shelton were a bit on the outs over somethin’, trying to work it out.”
“Think the brother worked it out with his boots?”
“No. I think Dan came out to his brother, told him about the newspaper, and Shelton tried to scare his younger brother off of it.”
“The vandalism, then. You think he hit his brother’s bike and Moore’s house.”
“Could be. The beatings, though…I don’t see it.”
“What would make you kill a man?” Gene said, staring at the ceiling.
“Me? Personally? Other than you?”
Gene frowned at him and Sam shrugged a smile back. “Revenge, hate, money…”
“Or thinking your sweet younger brother’s nearly fatal beating was caused by him being involved with you.”
“Wait…what?”
“Shelton tries to scare his brother, maybe intimidate Dusty with a bit of vandalism. Shake them up, make them decide to can the whole newspaper idea. Thinks he’s bein’ clever. Then Dan is caught out at night, maybe cruisin’, maybe jus’ lookin’ pretty, and gets beat to hell by the street gang. Shelton knows why they would target his brother, blames it on bein’ queer, thinks his brother wouldn’ve been a target if he weren’t trying to come out. Shelton blames Dusty, confronts him or not, don’ matter, burns the place down. The street gang fucks are off somewhere doin’ somethin’ else illegal, but illegal with an alibi.”
Sam sat back, appalled and amazed. Hunt’s mind was a steel trap and while they did not have a shred of solid evidence to support this theory, it was the only answer that made any sense.
“I’ve heard of another beating, actually, Gene…”
“Cecily.”
Sam’s jaw dropped.
“David told me. Visited him the other day…said they kept goin’ on about the paper.”
“David treated her?”
“Him. He got a few scrapes. Boy’s real nervous about his face.”
“Thought he was a tranny, by what Jimmy said.”
“Tranny? He’s not a mechanic. Boy couldn’t find the front end of a transmission with a map and my dick up his arse pointing the way.”
“I mean, I thought he self identified as a woman. A transsexual.”
“There you go again, with the self identity crap! Bloody hell, he’s a former rugby player who wears frocks! That makes him a bleeding cross dressing pansy queer!”
“Stop with the ‘queer.’ It’s derogatory.”
Gene pursed his lips and Sam was sorry he brought up the issue. “Then that makes him a bleedin’ cross dressin’ pansy bottoming FAG.”
Sam stood up and waved his hands. “Christ, you always got to be putting us down.”
“Us?” Gene spoke the word slowly, deliberately, and Sam looked at him, furious.
“YES! Us! Gays…homosexuals! You homophobic arse! You fuck me and god knows how many other MEN in this city and believe it or not, Gene, that makes you a flaming, hair-dresser-on-fire GAY MAN.”
“Never said I wasn’t.”
“But you sure as hell don’t act like you know it. You wear that straight man persona like it’s the real thing. Me, I WAS straight until I met you! I had sex with women, Gene, that is what I did, and who I did, and what I was!”
“You can always go back, plenty lined up in the Womens’ Department love to have a go.”
“That is NOT the point, damnit! I’m saying, we’re gay, you and me. That makes ‘us’ and so does all the other men we know who do the same thing we do. That’s ‘us’, that is community. Gay community.”
Gene stood up and walked into him, pushing him towards the wall as he talked. “No. No it ain’t. What a man does in his bed is his own business. I do YOU, an’ that don’t make me ‘community’ with any other arse-fucking queer in this city. What it does make me is a bloody pervert, and likely to lose my job and my life if anyone outside of this house finds out. Standin’ up for community will get you one thing, Sam, and that’s not a pension. This stupid idea of Larry’s to start a paper has already got one man killed, and a boy on life support, and I don’t…”
“I never mentioned Larry.” Sam snapped, latching onto the one point Gene made that crashed through his anger. Gene stepped back, his expression blank. “I never mentioned Larry, Gene. You’re holding out on me?”
“No need. You obviously know as much as I do. Somehow left that bit out yourself.” Gene folded his arms and looked murderous, but Sam could not continue.
“Gene, the case is more important than this shit. You got to know that.” Sam ruffled his hair, defeated, and sat down on the bed again, his fight gone. When he looked up, Gene was shifting uneasily, his eyes casting about the room, looking uncomfortable and frustrated. “You got the best theory that fits all the facts. Thing is, I can bring in Shelton and maybe even get him to crack on the vandalism charges, but if - IF - he was the one who burnt down Moore’s house, we got no evidence for it. And even less to point the beatings at the street gang.”
Gene stared at him, empty and emotionless, then nodded curtly. “Get dressed. I’m drivin’.” Gene turned and walked out, and Sam flung himself at a quick rinse off and his clothes, running down the stairs buttoning his shirt as Gene stared the Cortina outside. For the moment, the personal issues were cast aside, and Sam was willing to ride that wave as long as Gene let it go.
>----------------
Authors: mikes_grrl, with angeweeks on ‘Gene dialogue duty’ and more than a little credit to draycevixen for plot assistance.
Rating: Brown Cortina (NC-17)
Pairing: Gene/Sam
Warnings: AU, post-2.08, and a sprinkling of original characters.
Disclaimer: All owned by Kudos, kudos to them. I’m just having fun.
Word Count: 50,000~ total (part Fifteen, 3,000)
Summary: Sam tries to broaden Gene’s horizons but Gene won’t listen to reason (surprise) and sure as hell won’t ‘dialogue’. Meanwhile the city is experiencing a rash of hate crimes, a few of which are perpetrated against gay men, just as queer activism hits Manchester.
NOTES to Part Fifteen: Yay! More! And as a reward for all your patience, a very long chapter filled with pr0n. This scene is probably the second most re-written one in this story, and again, it was Gene's fault (not mine, natch). I like how it ended up, but some might think him a bit OOC here. *shrugs* I still like it.
This puts us at 30k words down, 20k to go...
Appearances:
Prologue; Part One; Part Two; Part Three; Part Four; Part Five; Part Six; Part Seven; Part Eight; Part Nine; Part Ten; Part Eleven; Part Twelve; Part Thirteen; Part Fourteen
(Undercover-AU:
I. Undercover
II. Exposed
III. Smirk)
Appearances, Part Fifteen
Sam was tight like a rubber band and kept massaging his neck as they ate dinner. Sam basically invited himself over, and for a cooked meal Gene was willing to put up with a lot, but now Sam sat sulking over his food and Gene suspected it was more to do with personal issues than work, but that can of worms he was leaving on the shelf. He did not need Sam telling him they were done one day earlier than absolutely necessary, and Gene felt like a coward and knew he was a coward but Sam always brought out the worst in him, so this was not any different.
Sam got up and put his dishes in the sink and cracked his arms, and Gene just watched.
“What?” Sam asked irritably.
“Here.” Gene threw down his napkin and walked over to Sam, spinning him around so his back was to him. Gene reached around high, at upper chest level, and yanked as he leaned back. Sam’s back let out a series of pops and he cried out in surprise. Gene held for a moment then set him down, and Sam leaned back against his chest.
“Damn, that was orgasmic.”
Gene wrapped his arms around Sam gently and pulled him in. “If that got you off, I’ve been doing something wrong.”
“No,” Sam said quietly and pressed against him. This was his Sam, and everything about Sam he needed, and Gene closed his eyes for a moment, unable to say those very words. Instead he brought up a hand to Sam’s chin and tilted his head up and back, and leaned forward into a soft kiss. He felt Sam breathe in sharply but Gene did not move otherwise, and stood resolutely still as he kissed him. He wanted Sam to know this was not about shagging, and of course he failed miserably as his hard-on began pressing against them both. He still did not move until Sam broke the kiss to turn around and begin kissing back in earnest, and now it was about shagging, and Gene was furious. He pushed Sam back and they stared at each other.
“What…?” Sam asked, confused, and it was obviously his word of the day.
Gene stepped forward, then back, and Sam shook his head, looking worried as he watched, and Gene was grateful to God that at least he was keeping his trap shut for once. Finally Gene went to his knees and took Sam down with a quick tug, catching him and laying him down on the floor. Sam laughed, relieved, and began moving his legs apart for Gene, tugging at his shirt to bring him in. Gene pulled off angrily and shoved Sam’s legs together and straddled him, sitting over his knees, and began undoing Sam’s trousers. He knew how he felt: possessed, disappointed, and angry, and he knew Sam saw part of that because Sam was not saying a word.
Sam was hard and Gene loved the boy’s…no, the man, Sam was a full grown man and his partner, and he loved the man’s cock. He had been fucked raw by it once and held it too often to count but he never tasted it and now he did, bending over with his hands on the floor on either side of Sam’s hips. He often told Sam he was not one for foreplay and now he really meant it, running Sam’s cock fully into his mouth, sucking on it hard as he pulled back up and tongued the underside of the head before swallowing it all down again. He had not gone down on anyone in years, but hell, it was not something a man forgot how to do, even if he, himself, was not a ‘boy’ anymore. He let his senses drift in the dark, musky odor of Sam’s arousal as he pulled and pushed his mouth over Sam’s cock, remembering and learning.
“Gene….?” Sam gasped and Gene felt him pull up his torso to look down at him. “What the hell….oh god…yes…” Sam was already starting to buck and moan, and Gene’s weight on his knees and legs kept it down some but Sam’s hips were jerking, trying to thrust deeply into Gene’s mouth. He let him. He was not going to stop Sam or hold him back or keep him quiet, he was going to let Sam do what he wanted. Gene needed all of Sam and this was the one part he never took yet, and perhaps it was not a declaration of undying love but it was all that Gene could offer, and he knew with near certainty it was something someone like Larry would never do. Now this could be his. His fingers curled against the floor, wanting to grab Sam’s hips to hold him down, but he refused to do it.
“Yes…oh god I’ve dreamed of this…wanted you…wanted to fuck your filthy mouth you bloody gorgeous cop…yes…yes…” Sam’s words turned to whines as his body pushed him into his passion, and Gene really did not have to do much of anything now except keep his teeth out of the way and his mouth open as Sam fucked his face. He was surprised that Sam had not grabbed his head, but when he finally glanced up he saw why and nearly came himself. Sam was arched in the air, both hands pressed against the cupboard doors behind his head, holding his upper body in tension as tight as a spring as his hips snapped, shoving his cock into Gene’s mouth. “…love you…Gene…yes, please god yes…I love you…fuck…”
Sam’s whole body came. He jerked loose and curled forward, yelling, finally pushing Gene’s head down and Gene closed his eyes and held his breath trying not to gag as Sam’s cock pounded into him mercilessly. Sam stopped cold, completely frozen as the wave passed over him, and it was nearly a full second before he let go of Gene’s head and sat back as Gene pulled up. He knew he looked like hell and he kept his face down, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, trying not to think of what David would say, and suddenly Sam was all over him, kissing him as if trying to suck his own cum back up Gene’s throat. He was ripping his own clothes off and Gene shoved him back.
“No. That was yours.”
“You bloody poof, I’m yours and you need to fuck me. NOW.”
Gene fell backwards with Sam on top of him, stripping them both and who knows what the hell he was expecting to use as lube, but it was almost perfect enough for Gene to believe that what Sam said was true.
----------------
He decided would tell Gene in the morning. They spent the whole evening and half the night having sex and it was incredible, and Gene was 100% there and selfishly, Sam did not want to lose that too soon. Gene went down on him in the kitchen and then fucked him on the floor and thirty minutes later they were in the shower, Sam sitting on the edge of the tub giving head as hot water poured over Gene’s body. Sam even managed to finger fuck Gene as they groped down the hallway, hitting his prostrate and sending him into an oblivion so deep Gene shook for minutes afterward. When Sam first went for it as they dragged each other out of the bathroom, his fingers ghosting over Gene’s backside, probing gently between his arse cheeks, Gene gave him a stern look of warning that melted under Sam’s touch. It was a submission that Sam rarely got and worshipped when he did. They never made it to bed until they were so exhausted they could not even talk in complete sentences and it was a night that Sam figured he would remember until the day he died. He almost regretted that, because how could any other experience ever match up? He tried not to worry about the future as he drifted to sleep, Gene next to him, snoring like a damn train.
When he woke up, Gene was in the shower, starting their morning routine on cue. Gene was always all business in the mornings - never a quickie, never cuddles or so much as a kiss, it was as if a switch was tripped and Gene put on his mantle of DCI Hunt the second his eyes popped open. Sam respected that and never argued it, preferring to keep their private life as removed as possible from work, despite the fact that was becoming more difficult to do. He knew this morning, in fact, it was going to be impossible. As he rolled out of bed, sore in the best way and nervous in the worst, he stood naked in the middle of the room, wondering what in the hell the last twelve hours were about. Gene was good at sending messages that Sam never received or could not decipher when he did, and Sam thought back to Larry’s somewhat prophetic statement that they were from different eras. It was only then that it occurred to Sam that Gene was telling him something, and to save his soul, Sam had no clue as to what. He thought, and contemplated, and then heard Gene in the doorway. He turned and saw him half dressed, towel over his shoulders, staring at him.
“Don’ tell me I finally found the way to shut you up.”
Sam pulled on his sweats instinctively although it was too late for a run. “What’s going on?”
“Meaning?”
“Last night.”
“I was horny and you were available.” Gene snapped the towel off and threw it on the bed, walking to the closet for his shirt and shoes.
“Last of the great romantics.”
“Flowers or a fuck, Sam, take your pick.”
“Probably the best shag of my life.” Sam sat on the edge of the bed, his arms folded.
“I know.” Gene smirked as he put on his shirt and turned to Sam. “We need to fill this out in triplicate? I left the carbon paper at work.”
Sam frowned, then looked at the floor. “The Tower case.”
Gene froze and Sam saw something flicker through his eyes, something dark and raw and Sam did not want to face that down. In the clutch, under pressure, his mind folded and sorted out an answer, a reprieve, and Sam felt like he was damning himself even as he reached for it.
“You remember Jimmy Sterling?”
Gene squinted, but then nodded. “The student photog. Took our mug shots.”
“Yeah. Well…he knew Dan. Dan is que…gay. Jimmy says Dan was working with Dusty Moore to start a gay newspaper.” Sam bit his lip, waiting for the derogatory slurs, but instead Gene looked at him steadily, motionless. As if he was not surprised, and now Sam wondered if he was. “Did you know?”
“…No.”
It was a lie and both knew it, but Sam could not figure out why Gene would lie much less how Gene knew that fact already, and they stared at each other until Gene bent down to grab his shoes. He walked to the chair across from the bed and sat down to put on his socks, casually, without looking at Sam again.
“Didn’ know you were keeping in touch with that boy.”
“I made a deal with him after the Franklin case. He stayed here so I can keep an eye on him, been meeting with him every couple of weeks to make sure he’s on the up an’ up. Good kid, he’s doing well.” Sam smiled, proud of Jimmy, despite it all.
“What, like…parole?” Gene leaned back in the chair, impersonal and thoughtful.
“Just like. Yeah.”
“Smart. I wondered how you kept him out of our reports.”
Sam grimaced, remembering writing up two sets of reports because his DCI thought he ‘had a grip’ on everything and typed faster anyway. “Look, I don’ think the beatings are all related in the same way. I think Tower and Moore are linked by the paper, and only incidentally by the other beatings.”
“There is no doubt that Tower was hit by the same thugs as killed Rami and Edwards.” Gene shook his head.
“Yeah. I know.” Sam rubbed his hair, confused. “I talked to…Tower’s sister. Said he and his brother Shelton were a bit on the outs over somethin’, trying to work it out.”
“Think the brother worked it out with his boots?”
“No. I think Dan came out to his brother, told him about the newspaper, and Shelton tried to scare his younger brother off of it.”
“The vandalism, then. You think he hit his brother’s bike and Moore’s house.”
“Could be. The beatings, though…I don’t see it.”
“What would make you kill a man?” Gene said, staring at the ceiling.
“Me? Personally? Other than you?”
Gene frowned at him and Sam shrugged a smile back. “Revenge, hate, money…”
“Or thinking your sweet younger brother’s nearly fatal beating was caused by him being involved with you.”
“Wait…what?”
“Shelton tries to scare his brother, maybe intimidate Dusty with a bit of vandalism. Shake them up, make them decide to can the whole newspaper idea. Thinks he’s bein’ clever. Then Dan is caught out at night, maybe cruisin’, maybe jus’ lookin’ pretty, and gets beat to hell by the street gang. Shelton knows why they would target his brother, blames it on bein’ queer, thinks his brother wouldn’ve been a target if he weren’t trying to come out. Shelton blames Dusty, confronts him or not, don’ matter, burns the place down. The street gang fucks are off somewhere doin’ somethin’ else illegal, but illegal with an alibi.”
Sam sat back, appalled and amazed. Hunt’s mind was a steel trap and while they did not have a shred of solid evidence to support this theory, it was the only answer that made any sense.
“I’ve heard of another beating, actually, Gene…”
“Cecily.”
Sam’s jaw dropped.
“David told me. Visited him the other day…said they kept goin’ on about the paper.”
“David treated her?”
“Him. He got a few scrapes. Boy’s real nervous about his face.”
“Thought he was a tranny, by what Jimmy said.”
“Tranny? He’s not a mechanic. Boy couldn’t find the front end of a transmission with a map and my dick up his arse pointing the way.”
“I mean, I thought he self identified as a woman. A transsexual.”
“There you go again, with the self identity crap! Bloody hell, he’s a former rugby player who wears frocks! That makes him a bleeding cross dressing pansy queer!”
“Stop with the ‘queer.’ It’s derogatory.”
Gene pursed his lips and Sam was sorry he brought up the issue. “Then that makes him a bleedin’ cross dressin’ pansy bottoming FAG.”
Sam stood up and waved his hands. “Christ, you always got to be putting us down.”
“Us?” Gene spoke the word slowly, deliberately, and Sam looked at him, furious.
“YES! Us! Gays…homosexuals! You homophobic arse! You fuck me and god knows how many other MEN in this city and believe it or not, Gene, that makes you a flaming, hair-dresser-on-fire GAY MAN.”
“Never said I wasn’t.”
“But you sure as hell don’t act like you know it. You wear that straight man persona like it’s the real thing. Me, I WAS straight until I met you! I had sex with women, Gene, that is what I did, and who I did, and what I was!”
“You can always go back, plenty lined up in the Womens’ Department love to have a go.”
“That is NOT the point, damnit! I’m saying, we’re gay, you and me. That makes ‘us’ and so does all the other men we know who do the same thing we do. That’s ‘us’, that is community. Gay community.”
Gene stood up and walked into him, pushing him towards the wall as he talked. “No. No it ain’t. What a man does in his bed is his own business. I do YOU, an’ that don’t make me ‘community’ with any other arse-fucking queer in this city. What it does make me is a bloody pervert, and likely to lose my job and my life if anyone outside of this house finds out. Standin’ up for community will get you one thing, Sam, and that’s not a pension. This stupid idea of Larry’s to start a paper has already got one man killed, and a boy on life support, and I don’t…”
“I never mentioned Larry.” Sam snapped, latching onto the one point Gene made that crashed through his anger. Gene stepped back, his expression blank. “I never mentioned Larry, Gene. You’re holding out on me?”
“No need. You obviously know as much as I do. Somehow left that bit out yourself.” Gene folded his arms and looked murderous, but Sam could not continue.
“Gene, the case is more important than this shit. You got to know that.” Sam ruffled his hair, defeated, and sat down on the bed again, his fight gone. When he looked up, Gene was shifting uneasily, his eyes casting about the room, looking uncomfortable and frustrated. “You got the best theory that fits all the facts. Thing is, I can bring in Shelton and maybe even get him to crack on the vandalism charges, but if - IF - he was the one who burnt down Moore’s house, we got no evidence for it. And even less to point the beatings at the street gang.”
Gene stared at him, empty and emotionless, then nodded curtly. “Get dressed. I’m drivin’.” Gene turned and walked out, and Sam flung himself at a quick rinse off and his clothes, running down the stairs buttoning his shirt as Gene stared the Cortina outside. For the moment, the personal issues were cast aside, and Sam was willing to ride that wave as long as Gene let it go.
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