Fic : Five times Sam thought Gene was cute, Green Cortina, by talkingtothesky
Title: Five times Sam thought Gene was cute (Or: Sam's Teddy Bear)
Author: talkingtothesky
Rating: Green Cortina
Pairing: Sam/Gene
Disclaimer: T'is not mine. I would be rich otherwise. And this would be canon. Love to the BBC and Kudos, who own it all.
Warning: Sweet enough to rot through teeth.
A/N: Because I can't sleep, have been trying to write happy!fic for ages and
beautybecksasked so nicely. ;)
The papers are piled up head-high on the desk, teetering stacks of forms and endless reams of scribbled notes spread carelessly on its surface. The piles spread onto the floor and reach all the way across the office in a muddled mass equivalent to about a third of the Amazon Rainforest. The Guv is sitting somewhere behind it all, hidden by varying heaps of faded white and yellow.
Sam has to carefully pick his way across the room, through the mini paper mountains to reach the desk. Sam muses that his idea of re-cataloguing the collator’s office hasn’t quite gone to plan. CID is even more of a mess than usual, and Gene appears to have fallen asleep with his head buried in a file.
One by one, Sam gently shifts the wobbling stacks of paper off the desk and sets them down as silently as possible on the floor; Sam knows from experience there’s nothing worse than having hundreds of files dropping on your head as a wake up call.
Gene snorts in his slumber but doesn’t wake. One large hand rests lightly on the desk at the side of his head, fingers curled up loosely; the usually bold, brash, and larger-than- life figure completely relaxed.
And there’s no doubt about it, Gene looks positively cute like that, with his hair all tousled and cheeks tinged ever-so- slightly pink.
He catches himself; Gene? Cute?
Sam can’t quite believe he just allowed those two words to take up residence in the same sentence.
***
Sam’s talking. Just talking. About everything and anything he can think of. And because it’s Sam, that means some form of procedure. Lots of unnecessarily long, convoluted words that most people wouldn’t think to use in a letter to the Queen let alone in everyday conversation.
Across the table from him, Gene is drinking. Drinking lots, as is his custom. By now he’s quite extraordinarily pissed, even for him. And so when Sam finally pauses long enough in his ramblings to notice that Gene has stopped grunting every so often in response, he realises that his DCI is almost passing out on the table.
“Guv?” Sam gives his arm a little shake.
Gene makes an incoherent noise in the back of his throat, and manages to raise his head to meet Sam’s eyes. “Huh?” he says then, eyes misty and voice croaky. He looks a bit like a lost puppy.
Sam grins. “Come on; let’s get you ‘ome.”
***
Any time Gene’s worn the pink shirt. Or the blue one, for that matter. They’re pastel colours, plain, will look good with anything. Though Sam thinks Gene has the skill of looking good in (and out of) everything.
Plain and simple, so much the opposite of Gene. Gene is certainly not muted, neutral or light. But his personality carries the interest, the spontaneity, the life so his clothes don’t need to. He commands attention with his sheer presence. Whenever Gene walks past him Sam feels like he’s standing in the wake of a hurricane, maybe that explains why he always feels so whipped up inside?
But when it comes to the end of a long day, Gene’s got two buttons unfastened on the shirt and his tie hanging loosely around his neck if not disappeared altogether, he looks absolutely gorgeous. And when his eyes meet Sam’s across the office, his eyes widening in surprise as he realises Sam is staring at him - just the tiniest blush creeps onto his face and Sam could just hug him right then and there.
Sam thinks of Gene as one big cuddly teddy bear and feels his own smile grow wider.
***
Okay, so it’s a squirrel, that’s almost a bear. There’s a real-life Gene Hunt-sized squirrel standing in the middle of his flat. Sam can’t resist collapsing into peals of laughter as Tufty-Gene tries to find his bearing and walk in the direction of the door, bumping into several pieces of furniture on the way.
“Oi!” comes a muffled but nonetheless annoyed voice from inside the gigantic rodent costume. “I’m bloody melting in here!”
That only makes Sam laugh harder.
“Tyler, I will get you back for this…”
Sam regains his composure enough to speak. “Promises, promises.”
When the large rat lunges in his direction Sam merely grasps hold of Gene’s shoulders and holds him steady. He can’t resist leaning forward and kissing the end of the squirrel’s nose lightly, running his hands over the shoulders and feeling Gene relax into him.
“You look damn cute in this costume, you know that don’t you?” he murmurs.
***
On the rare occasions when United actually beat City, Gene would be thoroughly pissed off. And, Sam being Sam, he would wind Gene up about it. They would bicker for ages and Gene would end up pouting and Sam would have to drag him all the way back to his flat, in order to kiss away that pout thoroughly. The pink (or blue) shirt would be quickly discarded and both their faces would become tinged pink in ecstasy. And then Sam would hug his big cuddly Gene until they both drifted off to sleep.
It was better than the clown, any day.
Author: talkingtothesky
Rating: Green Cortina
Pairing: Sam/Gene
Disclaimer: T'is not mine. I would be rich otherwise. And this would be canon. Love to the BBC and Kudos, who own it all.
Warning: Sweet enough to rot through teeth.
A/N: Because I can't sleep, have been trying to write happy!fic for ages and
beautybecksasked so nicely. ;)
The papers are piled up head-high on the desk, teetering stacks of forms and endless reams of scribbled notes spread carelessly on its surface. The piles spread onto the floor and reach all the way across the office in a muddled mass equivalent to about a third of the Amazon Rainforest. The Guv is sitting somewhere behind it all, hidden by varying heaps of faded white and yellow.
Sam has to carefully pick his way across the room, through the mini paper mountains to reach the desk. Sam muses that his idea of re-cataloguing the collator’s office hasn’t quite gone to plan. CID is even more of a mess than usual, and Gene appears to have fallen asleep with his head buried in a file.
One by one, Sam gently shifts the wobbling stacks of paper off the desk and sets them down as silently as possible on the floor; Sam knows from experience there’s nothing worse than having hundreds of files dropping on your head as a wake up call.
Gene snorts in his slumber but doesn’t wake. One large hand rests lightly on the desk at the side of his head, fingers curled up loosely; the usually bold, brash, and larger-than- life figure completely relaxed.
And there’s no doubt about it, Gene looks positively cute like that, with his hair all tousled and cheeks tinged ever-so- slightly pink.
He catches himself; Gene? Cute?
Sam can’t quite believe he just allowed those two words to take up residence in the same sentence.
***
Sam’s talking. Just talking. About everything and anything he can think of. And because it’s Sam, that means some form of procedure. Lots of unnecessarily long, convoluted words that most people wouldn’t think to use in a letter to the Queen let alone in everyday conversation.
Across the table from him, Gene is drinking. Drinking lots, as is his custom. By now he’s quite extraordinarily pissed, even for him. And so when Sam finally pauses long enough in his ramblings to notice that Gene has stopped grunting every so often in response, he realises that his DCI is almost passing out on the table.
“Guv?” Sam gives his arm a little shake.
Gene makes an incoherent noise in the back of his throat, and manages to raise his head to meet Sam’s eyes. “Huh?” he says then, eyes misty and voice croaky. He looks a bit like a lost puppy.
Sam grins. “Come on; let’s get you ‘ome.”
***
Any time Gene’s worn the pink shirt. Or the blue one, for that matter. They’re pastel colours, plain, will look good with anything. Though Sam thinks Gene has the skill of looking good in (and out of) everything.
Plain and simple, so much the opposite of Gene. Gene is certainly not muted, neutral or light. But his personality carries the interest, the spontaneity, the life so his clothes don’t need to. He commands attention with his sheer presence. Whenever Gene walks past him Sam feels like he’s standing in the wake of a hurricane, maybe that explains why he always feels so whipped up inside?
But when it comes to the end of a long day, Gene’s got two buttons unfastened on the shirt and his tie hanging loosely around his neck if not disappeared altogether, he looks absolutely gorgeous. And when his eyes meet Sam’s across the office, his eyes widening in surprise as he realises Sam is staring at him - just the tiniest blush creeps onto his face and Sam could just hug him right then and there.
Sam thinks of Gene as one big cuddly teddy bear and feels his own smile grow wider.
***
Okay, so it’s a squirrel, that’s almost a bear. There’s a real-life Gene Hunt-sized squirrel standing in the middle of his flat. Sam can’t resist collapsing into peals of laughter as Tufty-Gene tries to find his bearing and walk in the direction of the door, bumping into several pieces of furniture on the way.
“Oi!” comes a muffled but nonetheless annoyed voice from inside the gigantic rodent costume. “I’m bloody melting in here!”
That only makes Sam laugh harder.
“Tyler, I will get you back for this…”
Sam regains his composure enough to speak. “Promises, promises.”
When the large rat lunges in his direction Sam merely grasps hold of Gene’s shoulders and holds him steady. He can’t resist leaning forward and kissing the end of the squirrel’s nose lightly, running his hands over the shoulders and feeling Gene relax into him.
“You look damn cute in this costume, you know that don’t you?” he murmurs.
***
On the rare occasions when United actually beat City, Gene would be thoroughly pissed off. And, Sam being Sam, he would wind Gene up about it. They would bicker for ages and Gene would end up pouting and Sam would have to drag him all the way back to his flat, in order to kiss away that pout thoroughly. The pink (or blue) shirt would be quickly discarded and both their faces would become tinged pink in ecstasy. And then Sam would hug his big cuddly Gene until they both drifted off to sleep.
It was better than the clown, any day.