ausmac
in
lifein1973
Fic: Return Ticket for Coventry Part 1
Title: Return Ticket for Coventry Part 1
Characters: Gene/Sam
Rating: Sort of Blue Cortina for this part
Summary: Gene discovers something rather disturbing about his DI.
Notes: I put this up as a story idea and just couldn't resist playing with it. I don't do many wips anymore, but as this is being done at work, I shall have to finish it as and when I have time. Obviously unbetaed, so feel free to point me at any errors.
Things were a bit of a mad house that morning; some berk had his weekend takings snatched on the way to the bank - people just never thought, maybe someone might be after a quid, I shouldn't go to the bank the same time every bloody day! - and in the getaway the robbers had caused a multi-car smashup on Chapel Street, so the whole area was a mess.
Gene stood at the foyer door, holding it open impatiently as his people filed out. Ray and Chris were arguing about something to do with football, Cartwright was searching for her bloody radio and Tyler was last out, as usual, pushing the others from behind like a sheepdog.
There was a small group at the desk, a uniformed constable standing next to a well-dressed fella in his teens. As Tyler moved past the fella turned and smiled.
"Hullo Mr Jones, fancy seeing you here!"
In that moment between observing it and turning for the door, Gene caught a look of surprise on Tyler's face, very quickly changing into a blank stare.
"Sorry, you've got the wrong person, excuse me."
"But…" As Gene turned back, he saw the young man's expression: confusion, and a rapid understanding. "Oh, yes, sorry, my mistake."
And after the morning's work was over, Gene was reminded of it when a report hit his desk of a raid on a brothel suspected of selling drugs. Turned out the young blonde fella was a prossie, one of the male workers who dropped in and out the brothel and also apparently took rooms at a nearby hotel, working the area with his pimp.
Gene stared at the report as he tried to remember Tyler's expression. Surprise it'd been, and then nothing - that blank look you put on when you didn't want anyone to know what you were thinkin'.
Gene Hunt had a cop's instincts; like other people could pick up bad smells, he could pick up strange happenings and put them together to form a picture. And the picture he was getting was Sam Tyler being recognised by a male prostitute, and denying it.
And didn't that just make a person think the obvious. But the obvious was just too bloody ridiculous for words. On a professional level, you wouldn't deny it. On a personal level, you sure as hell would.
Sam Tyler associating with a male prostitute. On a personal level.
Either he's doing social work in his spare time, or he's seeing a male hooker for the bleedin' obvious. Shit a proverbial brick…..
What Sam did in his time off, Gene had no idea. He knew a bit about the others; knew Chris had family he spent a lot of time with, knew Ray went to the races and footy with his sister's kids and spent time with his parents on the weekends, knew Cartwight had family and the occasional outing with boyfriends. Tyler was a blank. No family he knew of, and he never mentioned friends outside of work.
Gene knew he should just put it away, because even if Tyler was as bent as a hatstand it was none of his bleedin' business, as long as it didn't interfere with his work. It wasn't as though he'd propositioned Chris or was bein' bent over a table in the canteen on a Friday night. If he did have queer proclivities, he kept them private and that was that.
But it niggled at him like a loose tooth that you just couldn't leave alone. I just gotta know, he thought, staring at the glass office partition, or I'll fuckin' die of the curiosity.
That Friday night, as they often did, the squad met after last shift for a few drinks at the Railway Arms. Cartwright, it seemed, had a hot date with a bloke from B Division who was taking her to dinner and a film, so she left early, making an unlady-like gesture at the usual catcalls and suggestions. Chris left a little later to head off to dinner with his parents, and Ray followed, heading for home. That left just him and Tyler. His missus had caught the train during the day to visit her sister in Birmingham for the weekend, so Gene was in no particular hurry to go home. He ended up chatting with Tyler about work and the football and the shockin' state of affairs with the Government. Only person he talked politics with was Tyler, who had a pretty good grasp of things. He knew the economy had an effect on their work - people got desperate when they lost their jobs, and often turned to crime to make up the rent.
Sam seemed fidgety that night, drinking more than he normally did, watching the clock next to Nelson's television.
"Got a date?" Gene asked finally, holding onto his third of scotch.
"No. Just a bit tired."
He didn't seem that tired to Gene. Sam slouched when he was tired, it showed because he was a normally active bloke, all sharp movements and hyper, like a kid, all jumpy and energetic. What he seemed was anxious to be gone and on a hunch, Gene gave him the out. He emptied the glass and stood. "Yeah, me too, think I'll make an early night of it."
Sam stood as well and pushed his own half-finished glass of beer towards Nelson. "Night then, guv, see you next Monday, have a good weekend. 'bye Nelson."
Gene collected his coat as Tyler headed out the door. He waited a few moments, then followed. Sam was heading down the street away for the direction he'd go for his flat, and Gene followed, keeping far enough behind so his footsteps wouldn't be heard but close enough to keep Sam in sight. When he stopped at a bus stop Gene cursed and doubled back to get his car, and arrived back just in time to see Sam catch a bus heading into town. He drove behind the bus as it made its way through the Friday night traffic, and saw Sam alight at a stop just outside the central shopping district. He drove past, keeping behind a truck, and parked down the block in a side alleyway.
For a few moments he thought he'd lost him, but as Gene emerged from the alley he ducked back as he saw Sam talking to someone across the street. A nearby streetlight gleamed on a blonde hair and he recognised the male prostitute Sam had denied knowing that day in the office.
One and one had definitely added up to two.
After a couple of minutes' conversation, the two of them walked down the street and went into a hotel. Not a high class establishment that one, and it seemed to book rooms by the hour in the trade going in and out were anything to go by.
Gene leant against the wall, lit a cigarette, and contemplated the situation.
Sam Tyler was queer. He went with male prostitutes. He was a butt fucker, a fairy, a buggerer, a sodomite. He was a serious potential risk to Gene's division because being what he was, he could be turned through blackmail.
All that meant he should go, because if the others found out it would be the end of morale in his division, the end of the team he'd worked so hard to build.
But the odd thing was, all he could think of was Sam up in that seedy little room, probably standing there with his trousers down around his ankles having his dick sucked by that blonde prossie and probably following it up by shoving that dick into the blonde's arse.
And what really, really worried Gene was why that image should make him tight and uncomfortable in his pants. With a snarl, Gene tossed the cigarette down, ground it out, and headed for his car. A perfectly normal Friday night had just gone totally bonkers.
Characters: Gene/Sam
Rating: Sort of Blue Cortina for this part
Summary: Gene discovers something rather disturbing about his DI.
Notes: I put this up as a story idea and just couldn't resist playing with it. I don't do many wips anymore, but as this is being done at work, I shall have to finish it as and when I have time. Obviously unbetaed, so feel free to point me at any errors.
Things were a bit of a mad house that morning; some berk had his weekend takings snatched on the way to the bank - people just never thought, maybe someone might be after a quid, I shouldn't go to the bank the same time every bloody day! - and in the getaway the robbers had caused a multi-car smashup on Chapel Street, so the whole area was a mess.
Gene stood at the foyer door, holding it open impatiently as his people filed out. Ray and Chris were arguing about something to do with football, Cartwright was searching for her bloody radio and Tyler was last out, as usual, pushing the others from behind like a sheepdog.
There was a small group at the desk, a uniformed constable standing next to a well-dressed fella in his teens. As Tyler moved past the fella turned and smiled.
"Hullo Mr Jones, fancy seeing you here!"
In that moment between observing it and turning for the door, Gene caught a look of surprise on Tyler's face, very quickly changing into a blank stare.
"Sorry, you've got the wrong person, excuse me."
"But…" As Gene turned back, he saw the young man's expression: confusion, and a rapid understanding. "Oh, yes, sorry, my mistake."
And after the morning's work was over, Gene was reminded of it when a report hit his desk of a raid on a brothel suspected of selling drugs. Turned out the young blonde fella was a prossie, one of the male workers who dropped in and out the brothel and also apparently took rooms at a nearby hotel, working the area with his pimp.
Gene stared at the report as he tried to remember Tyler's expression. Surprise it'd been, and then nothing - that blank look you put on when you didn't want anyone to know what you were thinkin'.
Gene Hunt had a cop's instincts; like other people could pick up bad smells, he could pick up strange happenings and put them together to form a picture. And the picture he was getting was Sam Tyler being recognised by a male prostitute, and denying it.
And didn't that just make a person think the obvious. But the obvious was just too bloody ridiculous for words. On a professional level, you wouldn't deny it. On a personal level, you sure as hell would.
Sam Tyler associating with a male prostitute. On a personal level.
Either he's doing social work in his spare time, or he's seeing a male hooker for the bleedin' obvious. Shit a proverbial brick…..
What Sam did in his time off, Gene had no idea. He knew a bit about the others; knew Chris had family he spent a lot of time with, knew Ray went to the races and footy with his sister's kids and spent time with his parents on the weekends, knew Cartwight had family and the occasional outing with boyfriends. Tyler was a blank. No family he knew of, and he never mentioned friends outside of work.
Gene knew he should just put it away, because even if Tyler was as bent as a hatstand it was none of his bleedin' business, as long as it didn't interfere with his work. It wasn't as though he'd propositioned Chris or was bein' bent over a table in the canteen on a Friday night. If he did have queer proclivities, he kept them private and that was that.
But it niggled at him like a loose tooth that you just couldn't leave alone. I just gotta know, he thought, staring at the glass office partition, or I'll fuckin' die of the curiosity.
That Friday night, as they often did, the squad met after last shift for a few drinks at the Railway Arms. Cartwright, it seemed, had a hot date with a bloke from B Division who was taking her to dinner and a film, so she left early, making an unlady-like gesture at the usual catcalls and suggestions. Chris left a little later to head off to dinner with his parents, and Ray followed, heading for home. That left just him and Tyler. His missus had caught the train during the day to visit her sister in Birmingham for the weekend, so Gene was in no particular hurry to go home. He ended up chatting with Tyler about work and the football and the shockin' state of affairs with the Government. Only person he talked politics with was Tyler, who had a pretty good grasp of things. He knew the economy had an effect on their work - people got desperate when they lost their jobs, and often turned to crime to make up the rent.
Sam seemed fidgety that night, drinking more than he normally did, watching the clock next to Nelson's television.
"Got a date?" Gene asked finally, holding onto his third of scotch.
"No. Just a bit tired."
He didn't seem that tired to Gene. Sam slouched when he was tired, it showed because he was a normally active bloke, all sharp movements and hyper, like a kid, all jumpy and energetic. What he seemed was anxious to be gone and on a hunch, Gene gave him the out. He emptied the glass and stood. "Yeah, me too, think I'll make an early night of it."
Sam stood as well and pushed his own half-finished glass of beer towards Nelson. "Night then, guv, see you next Monday, have a good weekend. 'bye Nelson."
Gene collected his coat as Tyler headed out the door. He waited a few moments, then followed. Sam was heading down the street away for the direction he'd go for his flat, and Gene followed, keeping far enough behind so his footsteps wouldn't be heard but close enough to keep Sam in sight. When he stopped at a bus stop Gene cursed and doubled back to get his car, and arrived back just in time to see Sam catch a bus heading into town. He drove behind the bus as it made its way through the Friday night traffic, and saw Sam alight at a stop just outside the central shopping district. He drove past, keeping behind a truck, and parked down the block in a side alleyway.
For a few moments he thought he'd lost him, but as Gene emerged from the alley he ducked back as he saw Sam talking to someone across the street. A nearby streetlight gleamed on a blonde hair and he recognised the male prostitute Sam had denied knowing that day in the office.
One and one had definitely added up to two.
After a couple of minutes' conversation, the two of them walked down the street and went into a hotel. Not a high class establishment that one, and it seemed to book rooms by the hour in the trade going in and out were anything to go by.
Gene leant against the wall, lit a cigarette, and contemplated the situation.
Sam Tyler was queer. He went with male prostitutes. He was a butt fucker, a fairy, a buggerer, a sodomite. He was a serious potential risk to Gene's division because being what he was, he could be turned through blackmail.
All that meant he should go, because if the others found out it would be the end of morale in his division, the end of the team he'd worked so hard to build.
But the odd thing was, all he could think of was Sam up in that seedy little room, probably standing there with his trousers down around his ankles having his dick sucked by that blonde prossie and probably following it up by shoving that dick into the blonde's arse.
And what really, really worried Gene was why that image should make him tight and uncomfortable in his pants. With a snarl, Gene tossed the cigarette down, ground it out, and headed for his car. A perfectly normal Friday night had just gone totally bonkers.