ausmac
in
lifein1973
Fic: Walkin' the Walk Part 2 of 2
Title: Walkin' the Walk Part 2/2
Author: Me ausmac
Pairing: Gene/Sam
Rating: Blueish cortina
Summary: Going undercover at a Gay Bar, and strange things happen.
"Well, hullo," the big man said, unfolding himself from the chair. "Lookin' for me?"
Johnny Mack was enormous, the biggest man Sam had ever seen. Not simply tall, but big-bodied, with hands like hams, a neck as thick as a normal man's thigh and huge pectorals that rippled behind his red satin shirt when he moved. He was a bear in human form and he radiated physical aggression.
Sam gave him his best smile, and held out a hand. "Yes, as a matter of fact. You're Mr Mack?"
One of the ham-sized fists enclosed his hand, holding it firmly. "I like that. Mister. Yeah, that's me. What's yours?"
"Sam."
He found himself being pulled closer until he was mere inches from the wall-like chest, while one large hand slid around to rest on his arse. "Sam, if you were lookin' for the best man in the room, you found him. And before you ask, every bit o'me is giant sized." Mack smiled, white teeth flashing through his dark beard. "I can make you see stars in the daytime."
"I'm sure you can."
One of Mack's companions was dechaired to make room for Sam, who sat himself alongside the big man. He rested his arms on the tabletop, not responding as Mack slid one arms across his shoulders.
"You know, Sam, you make me hard just looking at you. Long time since I've met someone who does that. You like big men, do you? Like to be topped?"
"I think you could say I've got an appreciation for large issues." Sam smiled, eyelids dipping and he parted his lips, watched Mack's pupils dilate as he stared at Sam's mouth. "Not to mention strange tastes. Heard we share one - bloke by the name of Frank Lawson?"
Mack rippled his shoulders and his nose crinkled in distaste. "That little piece o'shit. You'd be moving up in the world if you went with me. He's crud."
"I agree, he's a bizarre taste, but he does know how to please. I haven't seen him lately, though."
"Well, if you hang around you probably will, he's due to drop by later. Always calls in on Friday nights, looking for action."
"Good. Anyhow, I just have to…" Sam started to rise, and Mack rose with him.
"Now, you don't want to leave me alone here, just when we were getting to know each other. Little later we can get some grass, there's a private room at the back where we can have some real nice time together."
"And I think you should take your hands off 'im before you end up being minus them up to the elbows!"
Sam swung around, hissed in pain as Mack's grip on his wrist jerked his arm backwards. He saw Gene standing there, drawn up to full height, hands shoved in his coat pockets. At the small sound of Sam's pain Gene's face flushed dark; a hand flew out, grabbed Mack's arm, and reefed it away.
"Now, that was a stupid move." Johnny Mack pushed the table aside with one foot. "You're about to experience new worlds of pain, matey."
"Gene, no!" Sam pushed his way between the two men. "I'm fine, leave it alone."
Huge arms wrapped around him from behind and lifted him bodily off the ground. He was tossed aside, stumbled into a table and fell. A moment later he saw Gene lower his head and charge at Mack like a bull at a fence.
For two big men, they moved fast and pulled absolutely no punches. Furniture shattered, chairs and people went flying, glass broke, men yelled, and Sam got out of the way, because there was absolutely no way he could do anything to stop the two enraged men from fighting. They were like a living wrecker's ball, and within minutes the inside of the club was a shambles.
Sam staggered over to the bar and gestured at the barman, who was hiding behind it, holding onto an obviously valuable set of champagne bottles. "Call the Police."
The man shook his head. "They won't come, they never come here."
"They will if you tell them DI Tyler wants them to. No, don't ask, just phone them and tell them it’s a police matter, officers need assistance, and give them the name DI Tyler."
By the time the uniformed police arrived, things had mostly calmed down. The barman pointed out Lawson as he tried to enter, he was arrested and taken for questioning.
As for Gene and Mack, they'd knocked each other about fairly well, and were sitting on the floor with their backs to the bar, nursing multiple bruises, blackened eyes and bleeding lips. Sam collected some ice from the fridge, wrapped it in a towel and hunched down beside Gene.
"Here, put this where it will do the most good."
Gene took the ice bag and applied it to his left eye. "You know how to show someone a good night out, I'll say that for yer."
Mack groaned and grabbed the ice bag. "A hint, young fella. If you're already got yerself a top, don't go offering it to another one. Causes all sorts of problems, not to mention a shitload of broken furniture."
Sam smiled, as he helped his injured DCI to his feet. "Yes, sorry. Sometimes you just need to test the boundaries."
They headed out together, and Sam was a quiet passenger, a fact that didn't escape Gene's notice.
"All right, spit it out."
"What?"
"Whatever you've got lodged in yer teeth."
Sam shifted, a moving shadow beside him. "Well, thing is, I'm a bit puzzled."
"'bout what?"
"Why you did it. Why the Tarzan impersonation? I wasn't in any danger."
"Not your place to put the inquisition on me, DI Tyler."
"Avoidance, not an answer."
"All yer gonna get."
"Pull over."
"What?"
"Pull the bloody car over and stop."
Under normal circumstances that tone would have earned Sam a severe Gene-style reprimand, but those were not really normal circumstances - so Gene pulled the Ford over to the side and stopped. "Right, Mr Tyler, sir, we are stopped. Now make it quick, I want to get back, put in a report, see that nasty piece of work interviewed about the boy and then get home for some rest and recovery."
Sam turned to him so that his face was a pale blur in the lights from the dashboard. "Don't you have anything to ask me?"
"Like what?"
"I dunno. Say the first thing that comes into your head."
"Do you like big blokes?"
A moment's silence. "Pardon?"
"First thing that came into my head, you told me."
"So you ask me if I like big blokes? That's your flow-of-consciousness?"
"My flow-o-what? You're ravin' again."
A snort, and a laugh. "I'm not the one with big blokes in the driving seat of my train of thought."
Gene reached for the ignition. "Okay, enough weirdness for tonight, I'm going to…"
And a hand came down on top of his and held him and for reasons known only to Gene's obviously twisted libido, he didn't push it away.
"We really do need to talk. See, as it happens, I do like big, strong, domineering personalities who swear and drink and smoke and push me into walls. Well, one of them, anyhow."
There was that smell again, that musky odour, and maybe he was just imagining it, but it had been a strange night. He'd been knocked about by some bloke twice the size of anything humanly normal because that bloke had touched Sam in a way that Gene just hadn't liked. Touched in a way that no-one else should touch him.
"No-one else."
"What?"
He looked down at the hand wrapped in his. "Alright, you want the truth? Fine, here it is in all it's madness because that's what I obviously am."
He stared out through the windscreen where the ran formed patterns on the glass. "There's a few things I own that are just things. You know, stuff. But there's other things I own that mean somethin'. My position, my job, my authority, things important to me. And because they are important to me, I control 'em, because that's the only way I can protect 'em. Only way I know how." He looked up into Sam's eyes. "When I've earned the right to have them, they're mine. No-one else's." He turned Sam's hand over, linked his fingers through Sam's and held it in place. "Understand?"
"I--think so." Sam sighed, stroked Gene's thumb with his own. "Me and you, then?"
"Aye, I guess that's what it means. On my terms, though, Sammy, or not at all. I can't live any other way, not with you. You're too...you." He laughed, briefly. "There's me, makin' a lot of sense again."
"I get I can be a bit high-maintenance. Can't promise I won't argue with you at work. It's the way I am, Guv, can't change that."
"Wouldn't want you to, it's what makes you a good copper. But at times of danger, or when we're…private…you do what I say, Sam. I'm the boss. I have to be, or I'll go crazy tryin' to force it." He shook his head. "I'm not even sure if I'm makin' sense. Never tried to put this into words before. Never had to. Was never anyone I wanted the way I want you." He shook his head and stared up at the car roof. "Who'da thought, Gene Hunt, bull queer."
"I dunno about that. You find Ray or Chris attractive?"
Gene laughed. "Fuck, you must be joking!"
"There you go. I get the feeling this is one of those fated things, like karma. Either that, or the universe has a bloody strange sense of the ridiculous." He turned his face into the warmth damp of Gene's coat. "How else can you explain that I like how you smell?"
Gene grunted and lifted an arm to wrap it around Sam. "You're a daft git." He allowed himself to press his face briefly against Sam's head, to feel the softness of his hair, to take in the smell and warmth of him, before straightening. "I guess we figure it out as we go along. But next time you want to undercover somewhere, put in a request in writing. We'd probably end up at a peace rally and I'd find out I was a closet pacifist."
They drove on through the rain, laughing.
Author: Me ausmac
Pairing: Gene/Sam
Rating: Blueish cortina
Summary: Going undercover at a Gay Bar, and strange things happen.
"Well, hullo," the big man said, unfolding himself from the chair. "Lookin' for me?"
Johnny Mack was enormous, the biggest man Sam had ever seen. Not simply tall, but big-bodied, with hands like hams, a neck as thick as a normal man's thigh and huge pectorals that rippled behind his red satin shirt when he moved. He was a bear in human form and he radiated physical aggression.
Sam gave him his best smile, and held out a hand. "Yes, as a matter of fact. You're Mr Mack?"
One of the ham-sized fists enclosed his hand, holding it firmly. "I like that. Mister. Yeah, that's me. What's yours?"
"Sam."
He found himself being pulled closer until he was mere inches from the wall-like chest, while one large hand slid around to rest on his arse. "Sam, if you were lookin' for the best man in the room, you found him. And before you ask, every bit o'me is giant sized." Mack smiled, white teeth flashing through his dark beard. "I can make you see stars in the daytime."
"I'm sure you can."
One of Mack's companions was dechaired to make room for Sam, who sat himself alongside the big man. He rested his arms on the tabletop, not responding as Mack slid one arms across his shoulders.
"You know, Sam, you make me hard just looking at you. Long time since I've met someone who does that. You like big men, do you? Like to be topped?"
"I think you could say I've got an appreciation for large issues." Sam smiled, eyelids dipping and he parted his lips, watched Mack's pupils dilate as he stared at Sam's mouth. "Not to mention strange tastes. Heard we share one - bloke by the name of Frank Lawson?"
Mack rippled his shoulders and his nose crinkled in distaste. "That little piece o'shit. You'd be moving up in the world if you went with me. He's crud."
"I agree, he's a bizarre taste, but he does know how to please. I haven't seen him lately, though."
"Well, if you hang around you probably will, he's due to drop by later. Always calls in on Friday nights, looking for action."
"Good. Anyhow, I just have to…" Sam started to rise, and Mack rose with him.
"Now, you don't want to leave me alone here, just when we were getting to know each other. Little later we can get some grass, there's a private room at the back where we can have some real nice time together."
"And I think you should take your hands off 'im before you end up being minus them up to the elbows!"
Sam swung around, hissed in pain as Mack's grip on his wrist jerked his arm backwards. He saw Gene standing there, drawn up to full height, hands shoved in his coat pockets. At the small sound of Sam's pain Gene's face flushed dark; a hand flew out, grabbed Mack's arm, and reefed it away.
"Now, that was a stupid move." Johnny Mack pushed the table aside with one foot. "You're about to experience new worlds of pain, matey."
"Gene, no!" Sam pushed his way between the two men. "I'm fine, leave it alone."
Huge arms wrapped around him from behind and lifted him bodily off the ground. He was tossed aside, stumbled into a table and fell. A moment later he saw Gene lower his head and charge at Mack like a bull at a fence.
For two big men, they moved fast and pulled absolutely no punches. Furniture shattered, chairs and people went flying, glass broke, men yelled, and Sam got out of the way, because there was absolutely no way he could do anything to stop the two enraged men from fighting. They were like a living wrecker's ball, and within minutes the inside of the club was a shambles.
Sam staggered over to the bar and gestured at the barman, who was hiding behind it, holding onto an obviously valuable set of champagne bottles. "Call the Police."
The man shook his head. "They won't come, they never come here."
"They will if you tell them DI Tyler wants them to. No, don't ask, just phone them and tell them it’s a police matter, officers need assistance, and give them the name DI Tyler."
By the time the uniformed police arrived, things had mostly calmed down. The barman pointed out Lawson as he tried to enter, he was arrested and taken for questioning.
As for Gene and Mack, they'd knocked each other about fairly well, and were sitting on the floor with their backs to the bar, nursing multiple bruises, blackened eyes and bleeding lips. Sam collected some ice from the fridge, wrapped it in a towel and hunched down beside Gene.
"Here, put this where it will do the most good."
Gene took the ice bag and applied it to his left eye. "You know how to show someone a good night out, I'll say that for yer."
Mack groaned and grabbed the ice bag. "A hint, young fella. If you're already got yerself a top, don't go offering it to another one. Causes all sorts of problems, not to mention a shitload of broken furniture."
Sam smiled, as he helped his injured DCI to his feet. "Yes, sorry. Sometimes you just need to test the boundaries."
They headed out together, and Sam was a quiet passenger, a fact that didn't escape Gene's notice.
"All right, spit it out."
"What?"
"Whatever you've got lodged in yer teeth."
Sam shifted, a moving shadow beside him. "Well, thing is, I'm a bit puzzled."
"'bout what?"
"Why you did it. Why the Tarzan impersonation? I wasn't in any danger."
"Not your place to put the inquisition on me, DI Tyler."
"Avoidance, not an answer."
"All yer gonna get."
"Pull over."
"What?"
"Pull the bloody car over and stop."
Under normal circumstances that tone would have earned Sam a severe Gene-style reprimand, but those were not really normal circumstances - so Gene pulled the Ford over to the side and stopped. "Right, Mr Tyler, sir, we are stopped. Now make it quick, I want to get back, put in a report, see that nasty piece of work interviewed about the boy and then get home for some rest and recovery."
Sam turned to him so that his face was a pale blur in the lights from the dashboard. "Don't you have anything to ask me?"
"Like what?"
"I dunno. Say the first thing that comes into your head."
"Do you like big blokes?"
A moment's silence. "Pardon?"
"First thing that came into my head, you told me."
"So you ask me if I like big blokes? That's your flow-of-consciousness?"
"My flow-o-what? You're ravin' again."
A snort, and a laugh. "I'm not the one with big blokes in the driving seat of my train of thought."
Gene reached for the ignition. "Okay, enough weirdness for tonight, I'm going to…"
And a hand came down on top of his and held him and for reasons known only to Gene's obviously twisted libido, he didn't push it away.
"We really do need to talk. See, as it happens, I do like big, strong, domineering personalities who swear and drink and smoke and push me into walls. Well, one of them, anyhow."
There was that smell again, that musky odour, and maybe he was just imagining it, but it had been a strange night. He'd been knocked about by some bloke twice the size of anything humanly normal because that bloke had touched Sam in a way that Gene just hadn't liked. Touched in a way that no-one else should touch him.
"No-one else."
"What?"
He looked down at the hand wrapped in his. "Alright, you want the truth? Fine, here it is in all it's madness because that's what I obviously am."
He stared out through the windscreen where the ran formed patterns on the glass. "There's a few things I own that are just things. You know, stuff. But there's other things I own that mean somethin'. My position, my job, my authority, things important to me. And because they are important to me, I control 'em, because that's the only way I can protect 'em. Only way I know how." He looked up into Sam's eyes. "When I've earned the right to have them, they're mine. No-one else's." He turned Sam's hand over, linked his fingers through Sam's and held it in place. "Understand?"
"I--think so." Sam sighed, stroked Gene's thumb with his own. "Me and you, then?"
"Aye, I guess that's what it means. On my terms, though, Sammy, or not at all. I can't live any other way, not with you. You're too...you." He laughed, briefly. "There's me, makin' a lot of sense again."
"I get I can be a bit high-maintenance. Can't promise I won't argue with you at work. It's the way I am, Guv, can't change that."
"Wouldn't want you to, it's what makes you a good copper. But at times of danger, or when we're…private…you do what I say, Sam. I'm the boss. I have to be, or I'll go crazy tryin' to force it." He shook his head. "I'm not even sure if I'm makin' sense. Never tried to put this into words before. Never had to. Was never anyone I wanted the way I want you." He shook his head and stared up at the car roof. "Who'da thought, Gene Hunt, bull queer."
"I dunno about that. You find Ray or Chris attractive?"
Gene laughed. "Fuck, you must be joking!"
"There you go. I get the feeling this is one of those fated things, like karma. Either that, or the universe has a bloody strange sense of the ridiculous." He turned his face into the warmth damp of Gene's coat. "How else can you explain that I like how you smell?"
Gene grunted and lifted an arm to wrap it around Sam. "You're a daft git." He allowed himself to press his face briefly against Sam's head, to feel the softness of his hair, to take in the smell and warmth of him, before straightening. "I guess we figure it out as we go along. But next time you want to undercover somewhere, put in a request in writing. We'd probably end up at a peace rally and I'd find out I was a closet pacifist."
They drove on through the rain, laughing.