Fic: Five times Sam's made Gene smile in spite of himself. Green Cortina. Sam, Gene. By milly_gal.
Title: Five times Sam's made Gene smile in spite of himself.
Author: milly_gal
Rating: Green Cortina
Words: 714
Pairings: Sam/Gene
Summary: Even when he's trying to be mad he can't be...
A/N: I missed the 'Five Things' format. Thought I'd give it a go :)
Five times Sam's managed to make Gene smile in spite of himself.
1.
Rainin' would be an understatement.
It's not rainin', rain is wet and soggy and inconvenient.
It's lashin' it down. Wazzin' it down. He's almost bloody swimmin'!
He's pretty bloody sure that his poor coat's never gonna be the same ever again.
Camel hair is NOT meant to be subjected to the weather equivalent of Armageddon.
And yet, the sight of his picky pain in the arse DI, slumped dejectedly behind a piece of box section, patiently awaiting the entry of their snout, with his poncy leather jacket firmly rammed over his head, is SO worth the pneumonia he's pretty sure he's gonna come down with.
Despite the cats, dogs, fish, frogs and elephants heavin' it down on top of them, he can't help smirking round the sodden fag still stubbornly hanging from his lips.
"Oi Dorothy, if you do the zip up on that girly jacket of yours, you'll look like a turtle in hibernation"
"Piss of Gene"
2.
"My kitchen!"
Sam backs away slowly, no sense in any sudden movements right now, "Calm down Gene"
"Bu...but, my KITCHEN"
Sam's already considering diving out the window. It's the only feasible means of escape between him and his not so congenial host, "I, look, I was only trying to make you dinner. You know, a surprise"
Gene stalks forward, eyeing the scrambled egg dripping off the ceiling, the baked beans hanging from the light fitting that are giving the whole room a slightly ginger-ish hue, and snarls, "A surprise, you 'ave gotta be jokin', a surprise woulda been you wrapped in a bow with a 'Blow Me' note taped ta ya thigh. This is a fuckin' disaster zone"
It's only when Sam coughs and Gene can hear him dragging a bare toe across the lino that he takes a look at his petrified DI, "Oh Sammy, I don't think that's quite where ya meant ta serve the bacon from"
Sam, in his infinite wisdom has obviously decided that Naked-Fry-Up-Wednesday is a sterling idea.
Gene can't help it, he's tryin' so hard not to, but the image of his lover covered in nothin' but spatters of black pudding and a bow wrapped deftly round his nob is too much, even for him.
Sam's indignation is almost palpable.
"Stop fucking LAUGHING!"
3.
The whiskey burns, it sears a path down his aching throat and sooths the thudthudthud in his head and heart.
What a fuck up, what a fuckin' fuck up.
It was meant to be a routine chat with a low level snout that no one else in the city'd even notice unless he ended up oozin' underneath their shoe as they walked.
How did it end up as a blazin' gun fight with that div'ead Chris gettin' shot!
Gene's considerin' draggin' his tired arse home and throwin' himself into a nice big bottle of single malt when he hears a taptaptap on his office window.
He looks up and sees Sam, fingers in his ears thumbs pullin' the sides of his eyes down, wagglin' his tongue from side to side and blowin' lopsided raspberries.
Damn if Gene doesn't smirk, just the once.
He nods at Sam, tips his glass and downs the rest of his overly generous shot, hauls himself out from behind his desk and leans against the doorframe, "Pub?"
4.
Gene's having trouble breathing. It's too much, too much.
Even though his beloved car is in danger of getting a Tyler shaped hole in the side of it, he can't help the belly wobbling guffaws falling out of his mouth, "Oi, Tyler, dent my car an' I'll dent you, understand!"
Sam, struggling to get his jacket out of the Cortina's passenger side locking mechanism, simply looks up and flips his Guv the 'v', "Sod off, Gene"
5.
Despite the sweat still glistening along Sam's spine, the impossible way the strip lights are glinting off of Sam's skin, making him look like he's surrounded by his own inner light.
No matter that Sam's still twitching and convulsing on the top of the desk.
Even though Gene's still balls deep and heaving for breath, he can't stop the one small chuckle that escapes, "So much for respectin' the paperwork, 'eh Sammy-boy"
Wic x
Author: milly_gal
Rating: Green Cortina
Words: 714
Pairings: Sam/Gene
Summary: Even when he's trying to be mad he can't be...
A/N: I missed the 'Five Things' format. Thought I'd give it a go :)
Five times Sam's managed to make Gene smile in spite of himself.
1.
Rainin' would be an understatement.
It's not rainin', rain is wet and soggy and inconvenient.
It's lashin' it down. Wazzin' it down. He's almost bloody swimmin'!
He's pretty bloody sure that his poor coat's never gonna be the same ever again.
Camel hair is NOT meant to be subjected to the weather equivalent of Armageddon.
And yet, the sight of his picky pain in the arse DI, slumped dejectedly behind a piece of box section, patiently awaiting the entry of their snout, with his poncy leather jacket firmly rammed over his head, is SO worth the pneumonia he's pretty sure he's gonna come down with.
Despite the cats, dogs, fish, frogs and elephants heavin' it down on top of them, he can't help smirking round the sodden fag still stubbornly hanging from his lips.
"Oi Dorothy, if you do the zip up on that girly jacket of yours, you'll look like a turtle in hibernation"
"Piss of Gene"
2.
"My kitchen!"
Sam backs away slowly, no sense in any sudden movements right now, "Calm down Gene"
"Bu...but, my KITCHEN"
Sam's already considering diving out the window. It's the only feasible means of escape between him and his not so congenial host, "I, look, I was only trying to make you dinner. You know, a surprise"
Gene stalks forward, eyeing the scrambled egg dripping off the ceiling, the baked beans hanging from the light fitting that are giving the whole room a slightly ginger-ish hue, and snarls, "A surprise, you 'ave gotta be jokin', a surprise woulda been you wrapped in a bow with a 'Blow Me' note taped ta ya thigh. This is a fuckin' disaster zone"
It's only when Sam coughs and Gene can hear him dragging a bare toe across the lino that he takes a look at his petrified DI, "Oh Sammy, I don't think that's quite where ya meant ta serve the bacon from"
Sam, in his infinite wisdom has obviously decided that Naked-Fry-Up-Wednesday is a sterling idea.
Gene can't help it, he's tryin' so hard not to, but the image of his lover covered in nothin' but spatters of black pudding and a bow wrapped deftly round his nob is too much, even for him.
Sam's indignation is almost palpable.
"Stop fucking LAUGHING!"
3.
The whiskey burns, it sears a path down his aching throat and sooths the thudthudthud in his head and heart.
What a fuck up, what a fuckin' fuck up.
It was meant to be a routine chat with a low level snout that no one else in the city'd even notice unless he ended up oozin' underneath their shoe as they walked.
How did it end up as a blazin' gun fight with that div'ead Chris gettin' shot!
Gene's considerin' draggin' his tired arse home and throwin' himself into a nice big bottle of single malt when he hears a taptaptap on his office window.
He looks up and sees Sam, fingers in his ears thumbs pullin' the sides of his eyes down, wagglin' his tongue from side to side and blowin' lopsided raspberries.
Damn if Gene doesn't smirk, just the once.
He nods at Sam, tips his glass and downs the rest of his overly generous shot, hauls himself out from behind his desk and leans against the doorframe, "Pub?"
4.
Gene's having trouble breathing. It's too much, too much.
Even though his beloved car is in danger of getting a Tyler shaped hole in the side of it, he can't help the belly wobbling guffaws falling out of his mouth, "Oi, Tyler, dent my car an' I'll dent you, understand!"
Sam, struggling to get his jacket out of the Cortina's passenger side locking mechanism, simply looks up and flips his Guv the 'v', "Sod off, Gene"
5.
Despite the sweat still glistening along Sam's spine, the impossible way the strip lights are glinting off of Sam's skin, making him look like he's surrounded by his own inner light.
No matter that Sam's still twitching and convulsing on the top of the desk.
Even though Gene's still balls deep and heaving for breath, he can't stop the one small chuckle that escapes, "So much for respectin' the paperwork, 'eh Sammy-boy"
Wic x