Advent Calendar Day 22: Fic; Merry and Bright (Part 2a) by rebelxxwaltz, Green Cortina
Title: Merry and Bright (Part 2a)
Author: rebelxxwaltz
Pairing: Pointed in the direction of Sam/Gene.
Rating: Still Green Cortina.
Summary: Sam and Gene have arrived for Christmas dinner with Gene's mum.
Part 1 can be found by clicking here. :D
Notes: Hola, everybody! Sorry I have dropped off the face of the planet for basically the entire month of December. Work has been grueling; I’ve been on 50 hour weeks, all night shifts (voluntary, but it has turned me nocturnal and left me with approximately zero free time LOL). Consequently, this fic from last year’s AC is still… unfinished. *facepalms*
I have made some progress however! Even past what you see here, but this was the best place to break it for posting. After a very productive autumn writing Longmire fic, I’ve managed only 2,000 words or so of ANY description in the past three weeks. Sorry to provide yet another incomplete entry, but I’m confident this one will actually get finished before next Christmas rolls around! XDDD
Hope everyone enjoys a great Christmas with friends and family, and I hope to catch you all in the New Year! <3333
And so here he was, being ushered into the cozy sitting room with the yuletide knickknacks and the tastefully decorated tree. Sam had been graciously relieved of the small gifts he had brought for the hostess, consisting of the best bottle of wine he'd yet found in 1973 and some Swiss chocolates that would have been considered pedestrian by 2006 standards. He wasn't even sure whether Mrs. Hunt drank-- hadn't her husband been an alcoholic? But it was the best he could do at such short notice and the tokens were received with interest and warmth.
Placing the wine and chocolates on a small side table, Mrs. Hunt smiled and invited Gene and Sam to sit down. "Why don't you boys make yourselves comfortable while I check on dinner?" Gene perched his large frame in a slightly worn armchair, leaving Sam to occupy one end of the sofa. The older woman paused on her way through to the kitchen, gesturing as though she had forgotten something. "Oh! Gene, be a love and put the star on the top of the tree will you? For the life of me I can't remember what I did with that thrice-damned step stool."
"Yeah, alright." Gene gave a small smile to show his agreement.
Sam was struck somehow by the gentleness of Gene's mannerisms and how relaxed he seemed, limbs loose and unhurried as he rose out of the battered chair. It was at this point that Sam realized he had never really seen the Guv in an environment that one would call 'home.' If they weren't at the station they were out on the streets or in the pub, occasionally at Sam's flat which even Sam didn't consider particularly hospitable.
In all those locations the larger man had to project his image of authority-- the infamous Manc Lion; scourge of the criminal underworld, leader of men, and all-around armed bastard. As for Gene's house, it occurred to Sam that he'd only ever been there the once, and then just to have the meter man relay Gene's message that Sam was a 'useless tosser' before he'd even crossed over the threshold. What with the persistent rumors of domestic upheaval chez Hunt-- recently confirmed in Sam's eyes by a flippant comment concerning the joys of bachelorhood, not to mention last night's conversation outside the pub-- well, it seemed unlikely he'd be receiving an invite to tea at any point in the near future.
Yet this seemed even more intimate, in a way. There was a small fire crackling in the fireplace, and Sam couldn't help noticing a succession of old photos on the mantlepiece. His face heated slightly as he watched Gene cross the room and rummage through a small box, presumably housing the trimmings for the tree. To see the Guv in casual clothes was enough of a shock in itself, and Sam wasn't sure whether so much of the usual expectant confrontational tension had really drained from Gene's shoulders or if it was the dark blue jumper and surprisingly well-worn denims that projected such a state of ease.
Ease for Gene, at least. Sam himself was feeling strangely keyed up, clammy palms flexing against the tops of his corduroy-clad thighs as he watched Gene reach up to place the crowning ornament on top of the glittering tree. He found himself noticing things he had never contemplated before, at least not consciously and certainly never openly. He noticed the length of Gene's limbs as he stretched his arm above him, trailing his gaze down to where one leg was extended just behind the other to provide balance. The form of those legs, so often hidden by shapeless trousers, was a surprise that made Sam's mouth go dry as he let his eyes follow the well-fitted seams up to the junction of those legs and… oh, fuck. Fuckity fuck, was he ogling Gene Hunt's arse? He swallowed heavily, somehow even more unable to look away now that he realized that was exactly what he was doing.
A voice very close to Sam's ear broke into his inappropriate reverie, causing him to jump slightly.
"Bit warm in here, isn't it? Thought you might care for a drink." A crystal glass, containing what appeared to be perfectly chilled Champagne, was pressed into his hand by Mrs. Hunt, who was regarding him with what could only be described as a knowing smirk.
After a moment's struggle and a few carefully placed curse words, Gene's task was complete. He turned, wordlessly accepting his own beverage as his mother patted him on the arm. He looked at Sam, seemingly just remembering that he was with him in the room. All Sam could focus on were those intent green eyes, patiently searching his own and feeling so close even across all that space. Perhaps it was the firelight casting shadows, making the room suddenly seem so small even with the curtains drawn open to reveal the gloomy steel-grey scene outside. Sam felt flayed open by the careful scrutiny, sure that Gene knew everything that he was thinking even though that was clearly impossible.
Gene broke the moment in his characteristic way, evidently realizing the absurdity of the way they'd been staring each other down. He cleared his throat. "Why don't you take a picture Tyler, It'll last longer."
Mrs. Hunt huffed indignantly. "Now, Eugene! That's certainly no way to speak to your guest, especially on Christmas."
Muttering something that could have been an apology in some universe, somewhere, Gene flopped back down into his armchair, hair curling golden above his collar as the fire flickered behind him. He glared at Sam out of the corner of his eye, quickly draining the glass of effervescent liquid.
"That's better, all friends now! Dinner will be ready shortly, so you lads sit tight." She winked-- actually winked-- at Sam as she passed by, hands thrust confidently into the pockets of her faded apron.
At that point Sam felt sure he would never survive the night; whether he died of embarrassment or because Gene finally snapped and killed him would remain to be seen. But, he reasoned, hearkening back to some oddly familiar words, at least it would be a warm death.
xxxxx
More to follow, hopefully soon. Merry Christmas to all!