Advent Calendar Day 11 - Dick In A Box
Title: Dick In A Box
Rating: Green Cortina (adult humour)
Pairing: Sam/Gene (+subtext Ray/Chris)
Wordcount: 632
Summary: Christmas comes to CID. Some people's gifts are slightly embarrassing.
Notes: This is crack. Absolute, deliberately OOC crack. You have been warned. Partially inspired by an experience Ray went through in 2x08 of Ashes to Ashes. Thanks to little_cello for beta reading. Thanks to fueschgast for leaving a comment on another post which I did not fully understand when I wrote this.
(Also on AO3)
One morning in mid December, there are presents on every desk in CID. Sam gets to open his first, frowning at the new bottle of aftershave, since he never wears any. Is somebody trying to give him a hint?
Annie arrives second, carefully peeling back the wrapper on an enormous bar of chocolate. Sam stares at it, trying not to pout. Annie notices, laughs and generously breaks off a whole row of squares for him.
Chris is late, tripping into the evidence board onto which Sam has just finished sticking all the case information. "Sorry, Boss." He bends at once to tie his shoelace, but doesn't step away from the chalkboard first, so he ends up head-butting it. Sam sighs, hopes he doesn't have concussion, and spends the next ten minutes arranging the map of suspects again. Chris finally makes it to his desk. His gift is a space hopper. He whoops with delight and disappears off to Lost and Found to find himself a bicycle pump to inflate it.
The others trickle in gradually. Ray's last, unsurprisingly. His is quite a large box, and when he takes the lid off there's a small eruption of very pink and fluffy tissue paper. Everyone stares at it. Ray frowns. He plucks at the paper but it expands as he lifts it out. He goes on pulling at the paper for several minutes. Eventually he gives up and sticks his hand in. He roots around in the box as though it's Mary Poppins' handbag, and finally emerges victorious. Holding...something shaped a bit like a penis. It's light blue and it has...a wide flat base and Ray is yelping, throwing the thing in Sam's direction, for some reason, and it lands on Sam's desk and everyone is hollering.
"I think that's meant to be for you," Ray says, and then stares at his contaminated hand as though he wants to cut it off with a hacksaw.
The commotion rouses the sleeping lion. "What the bloody hell is going on?" Gene demands, planting his hands on his hips and sweeping his hair back like Prince Charming from Shrek.
Sam has a deeply disturbing suspicion.
Chris reports dutifully: "Ray just chucked a rubber willy at DI Tyler, Guv."
Gene glances at Sam's desk, and his mouth falls open. Sam stares at him. The rest of the office keeps talking.
"Is it a gay thing?" Chris asks, innocently.
"You can talk, you wanker," Ray retorts, still bright red in the face and desperate to deflect the attention onto someone else. Between Chris' legs his hand is moving up and down, a faint repetitive squeak as he works to pump up the space hopper.
Gene finally finds his voice. "Tyler, my office! The rest of you, back to work."
A chorus of amused "oooohs" spreads through the room, and if Sam and Gene were even slightly an open secret before, they're not remotely in the closet now.
Sam sets the aftershave down on Ray's desk on the way.
He slams the door shut behind him and advances on Gene with a sharply pointed finger pressed to the knot of his tie, threatening like the tip of a sword. Gene slowly backs into the desk. He looks mortified.
"You said you wanted to be more adventurous," he tries to explain.
Sam continues to glare murderously.
"I mixed up the boxes. That one was meant for under our tree on Christmas Day."
Sam picks up a pen from Gene's desk and holds it like he'd relish stabbing Gene in the carotid. He's seen enough crime scenes, he knows how to make a pretty impressive blood spatter.
"It's Man City's colour?" Gene tries, in a terrible last-ditch attempt not to be killed.
Sam's shout can be heard the next street over. "You BASTARD!"
Rating: Green Cortina (adult humour)
Pairing: Sam/Gene (+subtext Ray/Chris)
Wordcount: 632
Summary: Christmas comes to CID. Some people's gifts are slightly embarrassing.
Notes: This is crack. Absolute, deliberately OOC crack. You have been warned. Partially inspired by an experience Ray went through in 2x08 of Ashes to Ashes. Thanks to little_cello for beta reading. Thanks to fueschgast for leaving a comment on another post which I did not fully understand when I wrote this.
(Also on AO3)
One morning in mid December, there are presents on every desk in CID. Sam gets to open his first, frowning at the new bottle of aftershave, since he never wears any. Is somebody trying to give him a hint?
Annie arrives second, carefully peeling back the wrapper on an enormous bar of chocolate. Sam stares at it, trying not to pout. Annie notices, laughs and generously breaks off a whole row of squares for him.
Chris is late, tripping into the evidence board onto which Sam has just finished sticking all the case information. "Sorry, Boss." He bends at once to tie his shoelace, but doesn't step away from the chalkboard first, so he ends up head-butting it. Sam sighs, hopes he doesn't have concussion, and spends the next ten minutes arranging the map of suspects again. Chris finally makes it to his desk. His gift is a space hopper. He whoops with delight and disappears off to Lost and Found to find himself a bicycle pump to inflate it.
The others trickle in gradually. Ray's last, unsurprisingly. His is quite a large box, and when he takes the lid off there's a small eruption of very pink and fluffy tissue paper. Everyone stares at it. Ray frowns. He plucks at the paper but it expands as he lifts it out. He goes on pulling at the paper for several minutes. Eventually he gives up and sticks his hand in. He roots around in the box as though it's Mary Poppins' handbag, and finally emerges victorious. Holding...something shaped a bit like a penis. It's light blue and it has...a wide flat base and Ray is yelping, throwing the thing in Sam's direction, for some reason, and it lands on Sam's desk and everyone is hollering.
"I think that's meant to be for you," Ray says, and then stares at his contaminated hand as though he wants to cut it off with a hacksaw.
The commotion rouses the sleeping lion. "What the bloody hell is going on?" Gene demands, planting his hands on his hips and sweeping his hair back like Prince Charming from Shrek.
Sam has a deeply disturbing suspicion.
Chris reports dutifully: "Ray just chucked a rubber willy at DI Tyler, Guv."
Gene glances at Sam's desk, and his mouth falls open. Sam stares at him. The rest of the office keeps talking.
"Is it a gay thing?" Chris asks, innocently.
"You can talk, you wanker," Ray retorts, still bright red in the face and desperate to deflect the attention onto someone else. Between Chris' legs his hand is moving up and down, a faint repetitive squeak as he works to pump up the space hopper.
Gene finally finds his voice. "Tyler, my office! The rest of you, back to work."
A chorus of amused "oooohs" spreads through the room, and if Sam and Gene were even slightly an open secret before, they're not remotely in the closet now.
Sam sets the aftershave down on Ray's desk on the way.
He slams the door shut behind him and advances on Gene with a sharply pointed finger pressed to the knot of his tie, threatening like the tip of a sword. Gene slowly backs into the desk. He looks mortified.
"You said you wanted to be more adventurous," he tries to explain.
Sam continues to glare murderously.
"I mixed up the boxes. That one was meant for under our tree on Christmas Day."
Sam picks up a pen from Gene's desk and holds it like he'd relish stabbing Gene in the carotid. He's seen enough crime scenes, he knows how to make a pretty impressive blood spatter.
"It's Man City's colour?" Gene tries, in a terrible last-ditch attempt not to be killed.
Sam's shout can be heard the next street over. "You BASTARD!"