FIC: Previous Convictions 9/26, Brown Cortina, Gene and Ray, R/C
Title: Previous Convictions
Word Count: This part 2,276. Total 70,000
Spoilers: None, really. I suppose if you’ve never seen Life on Mars there might be one or two…but it won’t make sense, either!
Pairings: None to begin with, Ray/Chris eventually. Ray/OMC.
Rating: Brown Cortina
Disclaimer: The only things which belong to me are the mistakes.
Summary: It’s a long and winding road. A bit of backstory, pre-1973.
A/N: Thanks go to xCazzie and Dakfinv for beta-dom. All remaining mistakes are mine alone.
Chapter one, Chapter two, Chapter three, Chapter four, Chapter five, Chapter six, Chapter seven, Chapter eight
It was a week later that Gene broke the news to the rest of the team, and the double celebration lasted almost until dawn. Ray didn’t even get to bed before his alarm went off, instead waking up still fully dressed, sprawled on the sofa. He showered and shaved before dragging himself into work. The custody area was busy, and he shouldered his way through the throng - the remnants of some sort of party that uniform had dealt with during the night.
As he headed for the stairs a hand touched his arm. He span around, half expecting to see someone who had escaped the plod and was trying to make a run for it.
Instead there was Chris, pushing his fringe back and smiling. “Heard you got made DS,” he held out his hand. “Congratulations.”
Ray couldn’t help but smile widely, his headache forgotten. “Thanks.”
“Wondered…’f you wanted…I’ll buy you a drink or summat,” Chris continued, looking embarrassed.
Ray knew he should refuse, but before his brain could tell his mouth that important bit of information he’d already said ‘yes’. And Chris was smiling the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.
“Tonight?” Chris asked. “You know the New Inn?”
Ray nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be there…soon as I’m done, after shift.”
Chris smiled again. “Cool!”
Ray watched him almost skip back down the corridor and couldn’t help but laugh to himself. There was just something about Chris.
That afternoon he and Gene collared a low-level crook who Gene was convinced knew about a rumour that had been circulating over who was responsible for some wages snatches. Ray couldn’t help but glance at his watch whilst they were in Lost and Found, interrogating him. He tried to be subtle about it, but worried that Chris would be sitting on his own, thinking he’d been stood up.
Once the man had been thrown back in the cells, with Gene encouraging him to remember what he knew a little more clearly overnight, Gene turned on Ray.
“Keeping you, are we?”
Ray shook his head. “No, Guv. Jus’…’s nothing.” He flexed his fingers out, trying to ease the bruises on his knuckles.
“Bet she’d love to hear you say that. Go on then, go an’ find your hot date,” Gene waved a hand.
Ray almost corrected Gene, but then held his tongue. It didn’t matter to him what Gene thought, as long as it meant he got out of the station. He just wished it really was a hot date. He nodded. “Cheers Guv,” and left before anyone else could stop him or ask him anything.
By the time he arrived at the pub he was more than half an hour late, and he looked around, worried that Chris would have gone. Then he spotted Chris and couldn’t help but smile. He noticed Chris’s drink was almost finished, so laid a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, making him jump.
“What’re you drinkin’?” he asked.
“Um…mild, but I’m meant t’be buyin’…”
Ray waved his hand, “It’ll make up for me bein’ late.”
When he settled in the chair opposite Chris, he took a long swallow of his drink.
“So…the new Guv, you an’ him are friends then?” Chris asked.
Ray nodded. “He were my DS when I was a DC. Had a bit of history before that, too,” Ray answered. “Been a team, y’know?”
Chris nodded. “How come you knew ‘im before then?”
Ray smiled and decided he didn’t mind Chris knowing. “He felt my collar when I was only a kid and he were plod. ‘Cept I escaped - he ain’t really forgiven me for that though, so don’t mention it.”
Chris’s look of disbelief was so comical Ray found himself giggling into his pint.
From then on they talked about work - mainly the cases that Ray was working on because Chris was so interested in them. Ray could see how much Chris had changed from when they had first met - he was more confident and a little more hardened to the world that being a police officer brought him into contact with. He was still just a boy though, and Ray knew his feelings toward him were all entirely wrong.
***
He knew he had to stop torturing himself - not only was Chris far too young and the wrong sex, he was also plod, and everyone knew CID and plod didn’t mix. So he put his head down at work, collaring more suspects than the rest of the department put together. He took risks, he got in fights, and at the end of each day he put away enough beer and whisky to make sure he slept a deep and dreamless sleep.
On his days off he spent time pummelling the punch bags in his local boxing club or running until he dropped. And when frustration got the better of him, he spent the day far away from Manchester, picking up a faceless stranger for some no-strings sex. For that day it always made him feel better, but in the lonely dark of night he regretted it. He knew he had picked a job that meant he would never be able to have a proper relationship with another man. He took out his frustrations on himself and on the criminals he picked up, provoking them into fighting. It was self-destructive, he knew, but it made him feel more than the sex ever did, because he had a passion for his job that he never felt for the men he slept with.
It was easier, now the law had finally changed. He knew he still had to be careful - he may not go to prison for his actions now, but he'd certainly be out of a job. He always drove to another city - Leeds, Sheffield, Blackpool or similar and found a club - invariably in a dark backstreet. He was careful - perhaps overly so, but he knew he couldn't risk it otherwise.
He stepped inside a nondescript door, and nodded once to the large doorman who stood inside. Steps ahead of him led downwards, and the sounds of a bass beat could be heard. Someone obviously opened another door and the music got louder, and a waft of warm air washed over him. The smell was intoxicating - sweat and smoke and sex. Ray made his way down the stairs and pushed open the heavy door. There were men everywhere. Dancing, kissing, and in the dark alcoves he knew there would be people involved in far more hardcore activities. He pushed his way through the crowd, heading for the bar. The air was hot in comparison to the cold outdoors and he was already sweating.
A hand trailed across his arse, but he didn't even stop to see who it belonged to. He reached the bar, got a pint in and stood, surveying the crowds. There were men of every description - some in suits, others in almost nothing. He found himself picking out certain blokes for a closer look. Lithe bodies, slim builds, dark hair. Finally he moved back in amongst the heaving mass of bodies, moving against them. The atmosphere and the knowledge that before the night was out he would have had some sweaty, dangerous, rough sex was as much of a turn-on as the men rubbing against his crotch and arse.
He ended up dancing with one man - although it was less dancing and more just rubbing themselves against each other, a clear and wordless message passing between them. They moved to the edge of the floor, and Ray took the man's wrist, leading him down one of the side-passages, stepping over and squeezing past other panting, rutting couples. Then there was a space, a doorway, and Ray dragged the man into it. His erection was already straining against his trousers and Ray shoved his hand inbetween the other man's legs, seeking and finding a matching hardness. But the man was more direct, pulling Ray's trousers open and reaching into his pants. Ray tipped his head back as fingers closed around his cock. After a few strokes the man moved, pulling Ray away from the wall and moving there himself. At the same time he wriggled his trousers down to his thighs. Ray looked down at the muscular, perfectly formed arse on offer to him. He hadn't cared if he'd been on the giving or receiving end. It was clear the choice had been made for him. He spat on his fingers and reached down, slipping his digits down the other man's crack. He immediately felt a slickness there already and knew the bloke had come prepared. He smiled, taking hold of his cock and guiding it in.
The sex was quick, the animal need and the smells and sounds around them serving to tip both men over the edge. As soon as they were done Ray pulled out, pushing his softening cock back in his pants. He walked away without a backwards glance, out of the club. He could feel the adrenaline and the pleasure of orgasm still singing in his veins most of the way back to Manchester.
He returned to the same club a few times, liking the crowds and the atmosphere. He kept a close eye on the police reports from the area, checking it had never been raided or come under suspicion.
He saved up some of his new wages and bought himself a new car to go with his new flat. It was the first car he’d ever bought from new, and he was immensely proud of it. He had a good job, a nice flat and a new car. All things he had never imagined having when he was younger.
When Gene first clapped eyes on the rich blue Capri he gave a low whistle. “Very nice, Raymondo,” he said, running one gloved hand over the roof. “Finally draggin’ yerself up the world, eh?”
Ray grinned. He did feel like that. “Thought the old one were lettin’ the side down a bit in the car park.”
Gene nodded - Ray’s previous car had been a rusty heap of bolts which seemed to break down more often than it went. But Ray had pointed out there was no point in buying anything nice where he lived - you’d only have the tyres slashed or the paintwork damaged.
“So, gonna give us a test run?” Gene asked, reaching for the door handle.
Ray nodded, climbing in and gunned the engine.
“What is it? Gene asked.
Ray looked across to him. “Sixteen hundred,” he paused. “GTI.”
“Very bloody nice indeed,” Gene said, looking around him.
Ray put his foot down and they shot along the road, fishtailing wildly around the corner in a squeal of rubber.
Gene sat back and let the wind ruffle his hair. He felt just a tiny bit jealous. But he knew Tess wouldn’t let him buy another new car - not yet.
***
Ray ran up the stairs to his floor, looking out across the city as he headed to his front door. He felt good - he always did after a workout, especially when everything was going so well. A murderer caught earlier in the week, his new car getting appreciative glances from everyone - definitely the envy of most people at the station - his new flat seemed perfect in every way and for once, life seemed sweet. He slid his key into the lock and let himself in, appreciating, as he always did, how much brighter and more welcoming his new home was, compared to his old digs. He noticed an envelope on the doormat and bent to pick it up. The postman had already been, before he’d left, so he wasn’t surprised to see the envelope was blank. He dumped his bag in the sitting room and slid his finger under the flap, ripping the paper. He pulled the single sheet of paper out and unfolded it, then felt all of the blood drain from his face, his heart clenched as if it were trapped in an icy block.
‘I know what you are’, the message read in bold black pen. He stared at the paper, a million thoughts running through his mind whilst his body felt numb. He tried to tell himself that the note could mean anything - it might not even have been meant for him. Maybe the person was just saying they knew he was a police officer, and this was meant to be some sort of bizarre warning. But deep down he knew that it was far worse than that. Someone either knew about his past, or that he was gay. Either way could spell disaster for his career and his life.
He finally moved, walking into his small kitchen, the paper still held in his hand. He picked a glass up from the draining board and took a long drink of water. He knew there was nothing he could do, apart from be more careful. If it was about his past - well, he couldn’t change that, he would just have to wait and see what the letter-writer wanted for his silence. But if it was about his sexual preferences, he needed to be more careful. No more trips out, no more picking up men, no matter how far away he travelled. He finally shoved the letter into a spare drawer in the kitchen. He knew there was no way he could send it off to fingerprinting without having to explain to someone what it was all about.
He lay awake in the night, feeling as if someone was watching him.
TBC...
Word Count: This part 2,276. Total 70,000
Spoilers: None, really. I suppose if you’ve never seen Life on Mars there might be one or two…but it won’t make sense, either!
Pairings: None to begin with, Ray/Chris eventually. Ray/OMC.
Rating: Brown Cortina
Disclaimer: The only things which belong to me are the mistakes.
Summary: It’s a long and winding road. A bit of backstory, pre-1973.
A/N: Thanks go to xCazzie and Dakfinv for beta-dom. All remaining mistakes are mine alone.
Chapter one, Chapter two, Chapter three, Chapter four, Chapter five, Chapter six, Chapter seven, Chapter eight
It was a week later that Gene broke the news to the rest of the team, and the double celebration lasted almost until dawn. Ray didn’t even get to bed before his alarm went off, instead waking up still fully dressed, sprawled on the sofa. He showered and shaved before dragging himself into work. The custody area was busy, and he shouldered his way through the throng - the remnants of some sort of party that uniform had dealt with during the night.
As he headed for the stairs a hand touched his arm. He span around, half expecting to see someone who had escaped the plod and was trying to make a run for it.
Instead there was Chris, pushing his fringe back and smiling. “Heard you got made DS,” he held out his hand. “Congratulations.”
Ray couldn’t help but smile widely, his headache forgotten. “Thanks.”
“Wondered…’f you wanted…I’ll buy you a drink or summat,” Chris continued, looking embarrassed.
Ray knew he should refuse, but before his brain could tell his mouth that important bit of information he’d already said ‘yes’. And Chris was smiling the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.
“Tonight?” Chris asked. “You know the New Inn?”
Ray nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be there…soon as I’m done, after shift.”
Chris smiled again. “Cool!”
Ray watched him almost skip back down the corridor and couldn’t help but laugh to himself. There was just something about Chris.
That afternoon he and Gene collared a low-level crook who Gene was convinced knew about a rumour that had been circulating over who was responsible for some wages snatches. Ray couldn’t help but glance at his watch whilst they were in Lost and Found, interrogating him. He tried to be subtle about it, but worried that Chris would be sitting on his own, thinking he’d been stood up.
Once the man had been thrown back in the cells, with Gene encouraging him to remember what he knew a little more clearly overnight, Gene turned on Ray.
“Keeping you, are we?”
Ray shook his head. “No, Guv. Jus’…’s nothing.” He flexed his fingers out, trying to ease the bruises on his knuckles.
“Bet she’d love to hear you say that. Go on then, go an’ find your hot date,” Gene waved a hand.
Ray almost corrected Gene, but then held his tongue. It didn’t matter to him what Gene thought, as long as it meant he got out of the station. He just wished it really was a hot date. He nodded. “Cheers Guv,” and left before anyone else could stop him or ask him anything.
By the time he arrived at the pub he was more than half an hour late, and he looked around, worried that Chris would have gone. Then he spotted Chris and couldn’t help but smile. He noticed Chris’s drink was almost finished, so laid a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, making him jump.
“What’re you drinkin’?” he asked.
“Um…mild, but I’m meant t’be buyin’…”
Ray waved his hand, “It’ll make up for me bein’ late.”
When he settled in the chair opposite Chris, he took a long swallow of his drink.
“So…the new Guv, you an’ him are friends then?” Chris asked.
Ray nodded. “He were my DS when I was a DC. Had a bit of history before that, too,” Ray answered. “Been a team, y’know?”
Chris nodded. “How come you knew ‘im before then?”
Ray smiled and decided he didn’t mind Chris knowing. “He felt my collar when I was only a kid and he were plod. ‘Cept I escaped - he ain’t really forgiven me for that though, so don’t mention it.”
Chris’s look of disbelief was so comical Ray found himself giggling into his pint.
From then on they talked about work - mainly the cases that Ray was working on because Chris was so interested in them. Ray could see how much Chris had changed from when they had first met - he was more confident and a little more hardened to the world that being a police officer brought him into contact with. He was still just a boy though, and Ray knew his feelings toward him were all entirely wrong.
***
He knew he had to stop torturing himself - not only was Chris far too young and the wrong sex, he was also plod, and everyone knew CID and plod didn’t mix. So he put his head down at work, collaring more suspects than the rest of the department put together. He took risks, he got in fights, and at the end of each day he put away enough beer and whisky to make sure he slept a deep and dreamless sleep.
On his days off he spent time pummelling the punch bags in his local boxing club or running until he dropped. And when frustration got the better of him, he spent the day far away from Manchester, picking up a faceless stranger for some no-strings sex. For that day it always made him feel better, but in the lonely dark of night he regretted it. He knew he had picked a job that meant he would never be able to have a proper relationship with another man. He took out his frustrations on himself and on the criminals he picked up, provoking them into fighting. It was self-destructive, he knew, but it made him feel more than the sex ever did, because he had a passion for his job that he never felt for the men he slept with.
It was easier, now the law had finally changed. He knew he still had to be careful - he may not go to prison for his actions now, but he'd certainly be out of a job. He always drove to another city - Leeds, Sheffield, Blackpool or similar and found a club - invariably in a dark backstreet. He was careful - perhaps overly so, but he knew he couldn't risk it otherwise.
He stepped inside a nondescript door, and nodded once to the large doorman who stood inside. Steps ahead of him led downwards, and the sounds of a bass beat could be heard. Someone obviously opened another door and the music got louder, and a waft of warm air washed over him. The smell was intoxicating - sweat and smoke and sex. Ray made his way down the stairs and pushed open the heavy door. There were men everywhere. Dancing, kissing, and in the dark alcoves he knew there would be people involved in far more hardcore activities. He pushed his way through the crowd, heading for the bar. The air was hot in comparison to the cold outdoors and he was already sweating.
A hand trailed across his arse, but he didn't even stop to see who it belonged to. He reached the bar, got a pint in and stood, surveying the crowds. There were men of every description - some in suits, others in almost nothing. He found himself picking out certain blokes for a closer look. Lithe bodies, slim builds, dark hair. Finally he moved back in amongst the heaving mass of bodies, moving against them. The atmosphere and the knowledge that before the night was out he would have had some sweaty, dangerous, rough sex was as much of a turn-on as the men rubbing against his crotch and arse.
He ended up dancing with one man - although it was less dancing and more just rubbing themselves against each other, a clear and wordless message passing between them. They moved to the edge of the floor, and Ray took the man's wrist, leading him down one of the side-passages, stepping over and squeezing past other panting, rutting couples. Then there was a space, a doorway, and Ray dragged the man into it. His erection was already straining against his trousers and Ray shoved his hand inbetween the other man's legs, seeking and finding a matching hardness. But the man was more direct, pulling Ray's trousers open and reaching into his pants. Ray tipped his head back as fingers closed around his cock. After a few strokes the man moved, pulling Ray away from the wall and moving there himself. At the same time he wriggled his trousers down to his thighs. Ray looked down at the muscular, perfectly formed arse on offer to him. He hadn't cared if he'd been on the giving or receiving end. It was clear the choice had been made for him. He spat on his fingers and reached down, slipping his digits down the other man's crack. He immediately felt a slickness there already and knew the bloke had come prepared. He smiled, taking hold of his cock and guiding it in.
The sex was quick, the animal need and the smells and sounds around them serving to tip both men over the edge. As soon as they were done Ray pulled out, pushing his softening cock back in his pants. He walked away without a backwards glance, out of the club. He could feel the adrenaline and the pleasure of orgasm still singing in his veins most of the way back to Manchester.
He returned to the same club a few times, liking the crowds and the atmosphere. He kept a close eye on the police reports from the area, checking it had never been raided or come under suspicion.
He saved up some of his new wages and bought himself a new car to go with his new flat. It was the first car he’d ever bought from new, and he was immensely proud of it. He had a good job, a nice flat and a new car. All things he had never imagined having when he was younger.
When Gene first clapped eyes on the rich blue Capri he gave a low whistle. “Very nice, Raymondo,” he said, running one gloved hand over the roof. “Finally draggin’ yerself up the world, eh?”
Ray grinned. He did feel like that. “Thought the old one were lettin’ the side down a bit in the car park.”
Gene nodded - Ray’s previous car had been a rusty heap of bolts which seemed to break down more often than it went. But Ray had pointed out there was no point in buying anything nice where he lived - you’d only have the tyres slashed or the paintwork damaged.
“So, gonna give us a test run?” Gene asked, reaching for the door handle.
Ray nodded, climbing in and gunned the engine.
“What is it? Gene asked.
Ray looked across to him. “Sixteen hundred,” he paused. “GTI.”
“Very bloody nice indeed,” Gene said, looking around him.
Ray put his foot down and they shot along the road, fishtailing wildly around the corner in a squeal of rubber.
Gene sat back and let the wind ruffle his hair. He felt just a tiny bit jealous. But he knew Tess wouldn’t let him buy another new car - not yet.
***
Ray ran up the stairs to his floor, looking out across the city as he headed to his front door. He felt good - he always did after a workout, especially when everything was going so well. A murderer caught earlier in the week, his new car getting appreciative glances from everyone - definitely the envy of most people at the station - his new flat seemed perfect in every way and for once, life seemed sweet. He slid his key into the lock and let himself in, appreciating, as he always did, how much brighter and more welcoming his new home was, compared to his old digs. He noticed an envelope on the doormat and bent to pick it up. The postman had already been, before he’d left, so he wasn’t surprised to see the envelope was blank. He dumped his bag in the sitting room and slid his finger under the flap, ripping the paper. He pulled the single sheet of paper out and unfolded it, then felt all of the blood drain from his face, his heart clenched as if it were trapped in an icy block.
‘I know what you are’, the message read in bold black pen. He stared at the paper, a million thoughts running through his mind whilst his body felt numb. He tried to tell himself that the note could mean anything - it might not even have been meant for him. Maybe the person was just saying they knew he was a police officer, and this was meant to be some sort of bizarre warning. But deep down he knew that it was far worse than that. Someone either knew about his past, or that he was gay. Either way could spell disaster for his career and his life.
He finally moved, walking into his small kitchen, the paper still held in his hand. He picked a glass up from the draining board and took a long drink of water. He knew there was nothing he could do, apart from be more careful. If it was about his past - well, he couldn’t change that, he would just have to wait and see what the letter-writer wanted for his silence. But if it was about his sexual preferences, he needed to be more careful. No more trips out, no more picking up men, no matter how far away he travelled. He finally shoved the letter into a spare drawer in the kitchen. He knew there was no way he could send it off to fingerprinting without having to explain to someone what it was all about.
He lay awake in the night, feeling as if someone was watching him.
TBC...