Comeuppance Part 3
Title: Comeuppance Part 3
By: tagdott
Word count: 1,386
Characters: ray, gene, chris at least a few of the other guys from CID.
Rating: Bluish green Cortina.
Warnings: A bit of colorful language, threats of violence.
Notes: To anyone interested. Not quite done with this. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks to madmonkeyshow for the beta.
Disclaimer: They are Kudos and BBC property, but they are fun to play with.
Tags: fic, ray, gene, chris
“Don’t!” Ray swatted Gene’s hand away from the switch. “God, have yeh lost yer mind, Guv?! I can’t be seen like this!”
“Can’t make you out at all, Ray” Gene opened Ray’s wallet, took out the dry cleaning ticket and stepped into the hall. “Chris,” he said, “go down n’ get Ray’s dry cleaning.” He pushed the ticket, the keys to the Cortina and a ₤5 note into Chris’ left hand, shoving him towards the stairs. “No questions, just go.”
Without a word, Chris hurried to do his Guv’s biding.
Gene stood there, trying to remember if he’d ever been that young and stupid. He reached for the light switch once again. “Jus’ th’ two o’ us now,” he said to Ray. “Y’ ain’t got nowt I ain’t seen before, Raymondo.”
Ray sighed, turning on the lamp on the bed table. He stood there, face flushed against the light olive colored sheet he covered himself with.
“Gawd, man,” Gene managed to say through his laughter. “What th’ ‘ell she do t’yeh?” Gene was leaning on the wall. He’d laughed himself nearly sick looking at the nude bald spectacle that stood before him. “Y’ look like one o’ those naked cave rat things from the Marlon Perkins Show.” He was coughing, trying to catch his breath.
“T’ ain’t tha’ fuckin’ funny, Guv.” Ray snarled out, he stood there fuming, but not moving to fight. Gene had laughed at him and with him many times before; but this was starting to cut a bit deeper than most of what went on between them.
“Yes it is.” Gene choked out.
“No,‘t ain’t!” Ray was shaking, his eyes brimmed with tears. “W’ if it were you?”
“Still be funny,” Gene chuckled. “N’ don’ start tha’ wit’ me. You know what’ll happen.”
Ray straightened up, “And if it were Tyler?”
“Even funnier,”
After giving it some thought, Ray had to smile at the image of Sam Tyler sheared. “Tha’d be hilarious.” He nodded, wiping his eyes.
“So,” Gene fought to stop himself. “What’d she use?”
“Fuckin’ ‘air cream.” Ray let the sheet fall to the floor. He was tense, angry and more than a little embarrassed. “M’ clothes is gone. Thinkin’ she tossed em’. Most o’ it’s in th’ note. Before yeh ask, I got no idea oo’s name it were!”
Gene read the note. “You fucked up wit ‘er,” he tried to keep his laughter at a low rumble. “Now, you gotta make it up to th’ daft girl. I could go after Wilma, if you like? Maybe put out a bulletin.”
“No, Guv,” Ray shook his head. “Too mad t’ see er’ right now.”
“Good, can’t have you doin’ nothing stupid, Ray.” Gene lit up two smokes, handing one to Ray.
“Damn,” Ray snapped. He was usually not this vocal when answering Gene. “Just wanna know what th fuck I said t’ piss er off.”
“Callin’ th’ girl outta ‘er name’d do it. Remember o’s name it were, yet?”
“No,”
“Give her some time.” Gene took a minute to read the note. “A few months o’ flowers, sweets, maybe a card or three. Correspond through er’ sis, let em’ stew fer a bit. Remind Wilma of the better times ye’ shared. Send gifts and the money y’ owe er’.”
“I’ll give ‘er time‘t calm down.”
“And you time t’ get back yer hair n’ a newer bunch a clothes. You’d do good wit a military cut.”
Ray took a long drag on the fag he’d been given. “S’ my fault she did this,” he sighed. “What girl’s name could make her do this?” He shuffled into the bath again. “Ow’m I supposed t’ work?” he bellowed.
“You don’t,”
“Can’t miss any more days.”
“I’m writtin’ yeh in sick,” Gene glanced out the window to see if Chris was back yet. “You’ll be wit ‘Arry Woolf, seein to his every need. No one’ll question it.”
“That should do fer a week,” Ray stubbed the cigarette out on the bedpost. “What goes on after? He’s not havin’ me about much more than that.”
“You come back to work. We do not mention why you was out, or where.”
“Wearing what, Guv? Yeh got me goin’ on ‘alf pay.”
“I got some old things I don’t bother wearin’, use ‘em as long as y’need.” Gene handed Ray one of the flasks he carried. “We are not making a habit out ‘o this again, understood?”
“Cheers, Guv.” Ray nodded, taking a long swig of single malt and setting the flask on the small shelf. He’d always got a thrill out of having Gene’s old clothing. A sense of comfort. Anything Gene had tired of and was ready to throw away usually ended up in Ray’s possession. Of course, what he kept here was nowhere to be found. “Guv,” Ray splashed cold water over his face and neck. “M’ at a loss. Thanks fer th’ clothes n’ all but, still got other things to think about. Can’t stay at your place, Chris’ still with his parents, the rest ‘o the guy’s got their own to bother wit’.”
“Yeh can stay wi’ me. The missus won’t mind much.”
“She threatened t’ loop me nads if I set foot in ‘er ‘ouse.” Ray gave Gene back the single malt. “I think she’s still mad about tha last party we ‘ad.”
“You poured gin in wit ‘th fish, Ray. They were swimming sideways.”
“It were a joke. ‘Sides, th’ fish got sober again.”
“Almost unforgivable, wastin’ near a pint on ‘em.”
“You were laughin’ ri’ wi’ th’ rest ‘o us.”
“Slept in me office fer a week,”
“But, she forgave you.”
“Had to replace her ‘darlings’ wit exotics, though. Cost a bloody fortune. Which, you still owe me for, Detective Sergeant.”
“I promise to get it to you, as soon as I can, Guv. Gotta find a place to stay first.”
“I’d suggest Tyler’s flat,” Gene smiled. “But you’d kill each other inside of a day.”
“I’d sooner sleep in me car. Or better yet, the cells.”
“That wouldn’t be a bad choice. It’d give yeh a chance t’ see it from the other side.”
“True,” Ray sighed. “It’s no less than I deserve. Treated Wilma like garbage, but I still feel fer ‘er. She ain’t gonna be forgivin’ if I…”
“You in love wit ‘er?”
“Might be.”
“Don’ say it t’ the girl unless yer sure. Y’ know they don’ like bein’ played over.”
“Yeah, I know.” Ray walked over to the door of Wilma’s flat and waited.
About six minutes later, Chris ran up the stairs, carrying the bag of clothes by the hangars. He stopped at the door to get his breath, when Ray opened it enough to take the plastic bag from him.
“Ray,” gasped Chris, “What happened t’ yer arm? Wilma still in there?”
“Arms fine,” Ray said slamming the door back. “You say one word about this to anyone, I’ll break yeh in haf. Wilma’s not ‘ere.”
“Anythin’ I can get you?” Chris asked nervously. “A pint o’ sommat?”
“A pint’d be good.” Ray was looking over what was left of his wardrobe. “See if yeh can find me a hat. Leave th’ keys on the rug, Chris.”
“What kind of hat y’ want?”
“Anythin’ t’ keep me ears warm, you div!”
“Better a div wit ‘air than one wi’ nowt.” Chris called out just loud enough for Ray to hear him. He caught a glimpse of Ray through the door before it slammed shut. Chris quickened his pace down the stairs and out of the building. He picked up both the hat and a pint of whiskey for Ray; leaving both in the Cortina. Getting a ride back to the station might be difficult but not impossible. He walked back to the store to make the call. Chris knew better than to wait around for Ray in his present mood.
“Lad knows t’ keep it shut it over this,” Gene watched from the window as Chris walked out of the small store across from Wilma’s and placed a bag on the passenger’s side seat.
Ray sighed. “Still, he makes me wish they’d bring back Selective Service.”
Gene nodded. “So, you remember th’ name?” He ground the fag into the rug.
“No.”
“What if it weren’t a bird, Ray?”
“Ah, fuck!”
By: tagdott
Word count: 1,386
Characters: ray, gene, chris at least a few of the other guys from CID.
Rating: Bluish green Cortina.
Warnings: A bit of colorful language, threats of violence.
Notes: To anyone interested. Not quite done with this. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks to madmonkeyshow for the beta.
Disclaimer: They are Kudos and BBC property, but they are fun to play with.
Tags: fic, ray, gene, chris
“Don’t!” Ray swatted Gene’s hand away from the switch. “God, have yeh lost yer mind, Guv?! I can’t be seen like this!”
“Can’t make you out at all, Ray” Gene opened Ray’s wallet, took out the dry cleaning ticket and stepped into the hall. “Chris,” he said, “go down n’ get Ray’s dry cleaning.” He pushed the ticket, the keys to the Cortina and a ₤5 note into Chris’ left hand, shoving him towards the stairs. “No questions, just go.”
Without a word, Chris hurried to do his Guv’s biding.
Gene stood there, trying to remember if he’d ever been that young and stupid. He reached for the light switch once again. “Jus’ th’ two o’ us now,” he said to Ray. “Y’ ain’t got nowt I ain’t seen before, Raymondo.”
Ray sighed, turning on the lamp on the bed table. He stood there, face flushed against the light olive colored sheet he covered himself with.
“Gawd, man,” Gene managed to say through his laughter. “What th’ ‘ell she do t’yeh?” Gene was leaning on the wall. He’d laughed himself nearly sick looking at the nude bald spectacle that stood before him. “Y’ look like one o’ those naked cave rat things from the Marlon Perkins Show.” He was coughing, trying to catch his breath.
“T’ ain’t tha’ fuckin’ funny, Guv.” Ray snarled out, he stood there fuming, but not moving to fight. Gene had laughed at him and with him many times before; but this was starting to cut a bit deeper than most of what went on between them.
“Yes it is.” Gene choked out.
“No,‘t ain’t!” Ray was shaking, his eyes brimmed with tears. “W’ if it were you?”
“Still be funny,” Gene chuckled. “N’ don’ start tha’ wit’ me. You know what’ll happen.”
Ray straightened up, “And if it were Tyler?”
“Even funnier,”
After giving it some thought, Ray had to smile at the image of Sam Tyler sheared. “Tha’d be hilarious.” He nodded, wiping his eyes.
“So,” Gene fought to stop himself. “What’d she use?”
“Fuckin’ ‘air cream.” Ray let the sheet fall to the floor. He was tense, angry and more than a little embarrassed. “M’ clothes is gone. Thinkin’ she tossed em’. Most o’ it’s in th’ note. Before yeh ask, I got no idea oo’s name it were!”
Gene read the note. “You fucked up wit ‘er,” he tried to keep his laughter at a low rumble. “Now, you gotta make it up to th’ daft girl. I could go after Wilma, if you like? Maybe put out a bulletin.”
“No, Guv,” Ray shook his head. “Too mad t’ see er’ right now.”
“Good, can’t have you doin’ nothing stupid, Ray.” Gene lit up two smokes, handing one to Ray.
“Damn,” Ray snapped. He was usually not this vocal when answering Gene. “Just wanna know what th fuck I said t’ piss er off.”
“Callin’ th’ girl outta ‘er name’d do it. Remember o’s name it were, yet?”
“No,”
“Give her some time.” Gene took a minute to read the note. “A few months o’ flowers, sweets, maybe a card or three. Correspond through er’ sis, let em’ stew fer a bit. Remind Wilma of the better times ye’ shared. Send gifts and the money y’ owe er’.”
“I’ll give ‘er time‘t calm down.”
“And you time t’ get back yer hair n’ a newer bunch a clothes. You’d do good wit a military cut.”
Ray took a long drag on the fag he’d been given. “S’ my fault she did this,” he sighed. “What girl’s name could make her do this?” He shuffled into the bath again. “Ow’m I supposed t’ work?” he bellowed.
“You don’t,”
“Can’t miss any more days.”
“I’m writtin’ yeh in sick,” Gene glanced out the window to see if Chris was back yet. “You’ll be wit ‘Arry Woolf, seein to his every need. No one’ll question it.”
“That should do fer a week,” Ray stubbed the cigarette out on the bedpost. “What goes on after? He’s not havin’ me about much more than that.”
“You come back to work. We do not mention why you was out, or where.”
“Wearing what, Guv? Yeh got me goin’ on ‘alf pay.”
“I got some old things I don’t bother wearin’, use ‘em as long as y’need.” Gene handed Ray one of the flasks he carried. “We are not making a habit out ‘o this again, understood?”
“Cheers, Guv.” Ray nodded, taking a long swig of single malt and setting the flask on the small shelf. He’d always got a thrill out of having Gene’s old clothing. A sense of comfort. Anything Gene had tired of and was ready to throw away usually ended up in Ray’s possession. Of course, what he kept here was nowhere to be found. “Guv,” Ray splashed cold water over his face and neck. “M’ at a loss. Thanks fer th’ clothes n’ all but, still got other things to think about. Can’t stay at your place, Chris’ still with his parents, the rest ‘o the guy’s got their own to bother wit’.”
“Yeh can stay wi’ me. The missus won’t mind much.”
“She threatened t’ loop me nads if I set foot in ‘er ‘ouse.” Ray gave Gene back the single malt. “I think she’s still mad about tha last party we ‘ad.”
“You poured gin in wit ‘th fish, Ray. They were swimming sideways.”
“It were a joke. ‘Sides, th’ fish got sober again.”
“Almost unforgivable, wastin’ near a pint on ‘em.”
“You were laughin’ ri’ wi’ th’ rest ‘o us.”
“Slept in me office fer a week,”
“But, she forgave you.”
“Had to replace her ‘darlings’ wit exotics, though. Cost a bloody fortune. Which, you still owe me for, Detective Sergeant.”
“I promise to get it to you, as soon as I can, Guv. Gotta find a place to stay first.”
“I’d suggest Tyler’s flat,” Gene smiled. “But you’d kill each other inside of a day.”
“I’d sooner sleep in me car. Or better yet, the cells.”
“That wouldn’t be a bad choice. It’d give yeh a chance t’ see it from the other side.”
“True,” Ray sighed. “It’s no less than I deserve. Treated Wilma like garbage, but I still feel fer ‘er. She ain’t gonna be forgivin’ if I…”
“You in love wit ‘er?”
“Might be.”
“Don’ say it t’ the girl unless yer sure. Y’ know they don’ like bein’ played over.”
“Yeah, I know.” Ray walked over to the door of Wilma’s flat and waited.
About six minutes later, Chris ran up the stairs, carrying the bag of clothes by the hangars. He stopped at the door to get his breath, when Ray opened it enough to take the plastic bag from him.
“Ray,” gasped Chris, “What happened t’ yer arm? Wilma still in there?”
“Arms fine,” Ray said slamming the door back. “You say one word about this to anyone, I’ll break yeh in haf. Wilma’s not ‘ere.”
“Anythin’ I can get you?” Chris asked nervously. “A pint o’ sommat?”
“A pint’d be good.” Ray was looking over what was left of his wardrobe. “See if yeh can find me a hat. Leave th’ keys on the rug, Chris.”
“What kind of hat y’ want?”
“Anythin’ t’ keep me ears warm, you div!”
“Better a div wit ‘air than one wi’ nowt.” Chris called out just loud enough for Ray to hear him. He caught a glimpse of Ray through the door before it slammed shut. Chris quickened his pace down the stairs and out of the building. He picked up both the hat and a pint of whiskey for Ray; leaving both in the Cortina. Getting a ride back to the station might be difficult but not impossible. He walked back to the store to make the call. Chris knew better than to wait around for Ray in his present mood.
“Lad knows t’ keep it shut it over this,” Gene watched from the window as Chris walked out of the small store across from Wilma’s and placed a bag on the passenger’s side seat.
Ray sighed. “Still, he makes me wish they’d bring back Selective Service.”
Gene nodded. “So, you remember th’ name?” He ground the fag into the rug.
“No.”
“What if it weren’t a bird, Ray?”
“Ah, fuck!”