Advent Calendar Day Eight: Excessive, (Sam and Gene, Green Cortina), danae_b
Title: Excessive
Author: danae-b
Rating: Green Cortina (for attempts at humour and the funniest 'whump' I've ever written)
Word Count: 400 words
Notes: HAPPY EIGHTH DAY OF THE ADVENT CALENDAR!!! How about some abducted Sam for the holidays? .... kind of, anyhow. XDDD It's somewhat insane.
Our internet is down so I had to post this on my phone, sorry if it's wobbly.
Summary: Sam never gets a break.
The Guv's barely hiding his laughter. Sam has half a mind to shove the string of Christmas lights right down his throat, see just how much he likes being on the receiving end - and he'd do it, he really would, though only if he could.
And it's a bloody tragedy, because he can't.
'Don't you ever take a day off?' Gene flicks the ash off the end of his cigarette, shakes his head in bemusement, drops the fag to the floor and crushes it beneath his heel. 'This is a bit excessive, even for you.'
Sam can't reply. Gene knows he can't reply. He glares some more, because grunting against the gag isn't satisfactory at all.
'Plugged in?'
Sam shakes his head. If he'd been twinkling like a Christmas tree, he's certain Gene wouldn't have been able to contain his laughter. So he sits. And waits. Gene's not moving, hands on his hips, shaking his head - half in disbelief, more than that in sheer, unbridled amusement. Just wait til he hears that Jones got away with the diamonds. Wait, no, that must be pretty obvious by now.
It's not his fault though! Jones caught him by surprise! Sam doesn't actually have eyes in the back of his head.
No more undercover work, never again. He's just not cut out for this sort of thing.
'Wish I had a camera.'
Sam grunts a bit, scowls.
If luck was on his side, Gene would close his bloody trap and set to getting Sam free - but luck's not on his side, hasn't been all day long, if Sam having got conked upside the head with a Yule log, gagged with a rolled up stocking, and then tied up with a string of Christmas light says anything. It bloody well says a lot.
He wriggles, shifting about to show his discomfort. The bulbs are digging into his wrists, slightly scratchy, somewhat itchy, his head's split open, and the felt's starting to dry out his mouth. If Gene's going to just stand and stare at him like it's the funniest thing he's seen in months, Sam really could be doing better things with his time.
Like sitting some more, and wriggling. And glaring at the far wall, anything but Gene.
With a huff of a sigh, Gene settles down beside him. 'You're a bloody awful shopkeeper, did you know that?'
Sam rolls his eyes. Duh.
Author: danae-b
Rating: Green Cortina (for attempts at humour and the funniest 'whump' I've ever written)
Word Count: 400 words
Notes: HAPPY EIGHTH DAY OF THE ADVENT CALENDAR!!! How about some abducted Sam for the holidays? .... kind of, anyhow. XDDD It's somewhat insane.
Our internet is down so I had to post this on my phone, sorry if it's wobbly.
Summary: Sam never gets a break.
The Guv's barely hiding his laughter. Sam has half a mind to shove the string of Christmas lights right down his throat, see just how much he likes being on the receiving end - and he'd do it, he really would, though only if he could.
And it's a bloody tragedy, because he can't.
'Don't you ever take a day off?' Gene flicks the ash off the end of his cigarette, shakes his head in bemusement, drops the fag to the floor and crushes it beneath his heel. 'This is a bit excessive, even for you.'
Sam can't reply. Gene knows he can't reply. He glares some more, because grunting against the gag isn't satisfactory at all.
'Plugged in?'
Sam shakes his head. If he'd been twinkling like a Christmas tree, he's certain Gene wouldn't have been able to contain his laughter. So he sits. And waits. Gene's not moving, hands on his hips, shaking his head - half in disbelief, more than that in sheer, unbridled amusement. Just wait til he hears that Jones got away with the diamonds. Wait, no, that must be pretty obvious by now.
It's not his fault though! Jones caught him by surprise! Sam doesn't actually have eyes in the back of his head.
No more undercover work, never again. He's just not cut out for this sort of thing.
'Wish I had a camera.'
Sam grunts a bit, scowls.
If luck was on his side, Gene would close his bloody trap and set to getting Sam free - but luck's not on his side, hasn't been all day long, if Sam having got conked upside the head with a Yule log, gagged with a rolled up stocking, and then tied up with a string of Christmas light says anything. It bloody well says a lot.
He wriggles, shifting about to show his discomfort. The bulbs are digging into his wrists, slightly scratchy, somewhat itchy, his head's split open, and the felt's starting to dry out his mouth. If Gene's going to just stand and stare at him like it's the funniest thing he's seen in months, Sam really could be doing better things with his time.
Like sitting some more, and wriggling. And glaring at the far wall, anything but Gene.
With a huff of a sigh, Gene settles down beside him. 'You're a bloody awful shopkeeper, did you know that?'
Sam rolls his eyes. Duh.