Life on Mars - Hunt/Tyler
Title: Epiphany
Pairing: Hunt/Tyler
Summary: Gene has an epiphany. Strangely enough he's not too happy about it.
Rating: PG for a bit o' this and that.
Spoiler Warnings: Vague references to events of Season 1. Couple of specific 1x08 spoilers.
Word Count: 1,590
Disclaimer: Gene, Sam and Life on Mars belong t'Auntie. No stealing for me.
Notes: For the First Life on Mars Ficathon. My assignment was "Sam/Gene, alcohol, the canal". I think this is alright. At least I hope it is. Unbetaed because I don't think ahead. And hey - it's still the 17th in America right? So it's technically not late at all!
For soulstar. Hope you like it.
The more they all drank the rowdier the Arms became, Gene even persuaded into a performance of the only piece of new ‘music’ that he liked by a cajoling Sam. Sam joined in part way through the chorus, slinging an arm around the older man’s neck and singing loudly in his ear.
Gene had had an epiphany. At least he was pretty sure that’s what it was. The four glasses of the Arms’ finest whiskey gathered in his stomach agreed almost conclusively. The fifth glass, circled by his hands on the bar, wasn’t so sure but seemed likely to give in to the pressure when it joined the others.
But the epiphany. The epiphany was of a delicate nature and in all honesty Gene really didn’t want to pay that much attention to it. Unfortunately that wasn’t to be, especially with the subject of the epiphany currently knocking a pint back beside him. The amber liquid sliding down his throat as he effortlessly drank down half of it in one shot.
Gene gulped. He wasn’t staring, at least he thought he wasn’t staring, but Sam turned and winked at him, lips curving up in a cheeky smile. Gene sniffed at him and turned back to his own drink. Sam moved away to talk to the plonk, chuckling to himself.
Gene was pretty sure he’d never felt like this before and as such the epiphany had come as something of a shock to him. Alright, maybe there was his mate Tom in school, but he was pretty sure that that hadn’t actually happened. And, yeah, there was Jimmy during his early days at the force - but that had just been, what had Sam said? - male bonding. Oh, sure, part of the motivation for hiring Chris had been the ‘something’ that Gene had found appealing about him.
But it couldn’t mean what he thought it meant. And he wouldn’t even be thinking about if Sam bloody Tyler hadn’t shown up and ruined it for everyone.
He hated that it might actually make sense.
Especially when he looked at Ray. And at Ray looking at Chris.
If he was being honest about it he’d always been aware of the ‘something’ between Ray and Chris. Although he was pretty certain that it was a one-way street. And he couldn’t really blame Ray for coming after Sam the way he had when it was obvious innocent little Chris was fond of the DI. Fond in a completely innocent way too.
He couldn’t blame Ray at all really. Not when he. Couldn’t. Stop. Staring. At Sam.
Sam was drunk and when he was drunk he was all smiles and easy hand gestures. He had a right to be drunk of course. Just as every other CID member did. They’d finally nailed down the slag behind the brutal Dockyard killing, due in no small part to one of Sam’s odd techniques, and deserved the relax.
The more they all drank the rowdier the Arms became, Gene even persuaded into a performance of the only piece of new ‘music’ that he liked by a cajoling Sam. Sam joined in part way through the chorus, slinging an arm around the older man’s neck and singing loudly in his ear.
Gene hated that he’d come to this. Gene Hunt, who always took what he wanted - when he wanted, embarrassing himself in front of his entire team for a fleeting contact with the person he - come on, you can say it - fancied.
He’d forgiven Sam everything. He’d forgive him everything he might do in the future just to have this contact when he wanted. To taste those beer soaked lips.
Christ. He was losing it. And he knew he was losing it when time came and went and he suggested that Sam come for a walk down the canal before heading home.
Gene didn’t know what he was thinking when he suggested it but pliable, drunken, beautiful Sam agreed readily and was shrugging his coat on before Gene could think up an excuse for them to not go. He didn’t really trust himself alone with Sam in the state the two of them were in.
“What are you waiting for?” Sam asked, already standing by the door by the time Gene had thought his way to the end of that unsavoury thought.
“Alright, sunshine, keep ya shirt on,” Gene said, grabbing his own coat and trying desperately hard not to think about shirtless Sam. That only ever led to one result and Gene really didn’t want to be carrying a raging hard-on around the streets of Manchester.
The canal had a reputation for crime. They were always dragging bodies out of the water. There. That helped relieve the stress somewhat.
“Guv?” the title was a question and Sam’s voice was a lot quieter than usual.
Gene looked down at the smaller man suddenly looking very serious.
“What?” Gene asked, turning away before he did something he’d regret. Why did he have to have those eyes?
“You still haven’t said anything about -” Sam left the sentence hanging and Gene didn’t have to be a mind-reading to know what he was getting at.
“There’s nothing to say,” Gene said, sniffing, and that, at least, had done for his little problem.
“Come on, Gene,” Sam dropped the rank as he often did when they were alone, “You should have thrown the book at me”
“You pointed a gun at me, Sam,” Gene said, stopping suddenly, “It’s not like you actually shot me. You weren’t in your right mind”
Sam laughed.
“Because if I was in my right mind I would have pulled the trigger?” he asked, almost giggling.
Gene shook his head slowly, trying not to find the giggles endearing.
“If you were in your right mind, Sam, you wouldn’t have thought about letting Vic go in the first place,” Gene said, just loud enough to be heard over Sam’s giggling.
Sam stopped laughing abruptly and stared up at Gene, his mouth hanging open slightly and his eyes widening.
That’s right.
Sam kept staring at him and Gene found his eyes drawn back to those lips he’d began to covet so much. Enough was enough. He’d never been shy and now was not the time to start.
With a speed that he didn’t know he possessed he turned and pushed Sam up against the wall, one hand gripping Sam’s arm and the other wrapped tight wound the nape of his neck. Sam’s eyes widened even further but Gene had no time to register the expression before bringing his mouth down over Sam’s.
Sam froze underneath him as Gene dipped his tongue into Sam’s mouth, tasting the evening’s beer and cigarettes. He lost control of himself long enough for a soft moan to escape him as Sam’s tongue moved forward to trace over his and slide into his own mouth. The kiss had started tentative but at Sam’s response Gene pressed harder, relaxing his grip on Sam’s arm and resting that hand against the wall.
Then Sam was pushing him back and swearing.
“Jesus Christ, Gene,” he nearly shouted, “What the hell do you think you’re doing”
Gene stared at Sam furiously for a moment, chest heaving up and down from exerting himself. Sam looked mortified. Mortified damn it. Gene’s vaunted instinct had led him down the wrong path. He slumped back against the canal railing and raised a hand to his face.
“Oh God, oh Gene,” Sam said, suddenly very quiet. There were soft footsteps and Gene felt Sam lean against the railing beside him.
Gene didn’t say anything. Couldn’t say anything. He was going to be the laughing stock of the police station. No. No that couldn’t happen. No-one could know. He was going to have to throw Sam in the canal - there was nothing else for it. It was the only way.
“I won’t say anything,” Sam said, “If that’s what you’re thinking. You don’t have to throw me in the canal or anything”
Gene looked at him sharply to see Sam smiling slightly although there was a touch of sadness to it.
“I thought -” Gene started before shaking his head.
“Yeah, I guessed,” Sam said, “Look - it’s flattering, really it is. But Gene - I don’t go that way. I’m not sure what made you think I did”
Gene mumbled something about Chris and Ray and his theory and Sam laughed. A genuinely loud, cheering laugh.
“That would honestly explain a lot,” he said when he quietened then more seriously; “I’m sorry if I ever gave you - if I ever led you on”
“Don’t think you did,” Gene said, “But I -”
“Whatever Gene Hunt wants - he takes. Right?” Sam said, shaking his head.
“Somethin’ like that,” Gene said.
“This is new, right? Something you haven’t done before,” Sam continued.
Gene could do nothing but nod.
“Listen,” Sam said, clapping him on the back companionably, “I’ve had a few friends go through what you’re going through right now. Why don’t you come back to mine - not like that - we’ll have a cup of tea and see if we can sort this out. Sound good?”
“Yeah,” Gene said after a moments pause, “A cuppa would be brilliant”
“I bet it would,” Sam said, pushing off from the railing.
“I’m not a poof,” Gene said as he joined Sam.
“Sure,” Sam said, rolling his eyes, “Because the whole male-bonding obsession is so heterosexual”
“You little bastard!” Gene threw a punch but Sam ducked of the way and started running up the canal path, laughing. Gene watched him for a moment before giving chase. He may have been wrong for the first time tonight and his gut may have let him down - but there was one thing Gene would always have: he could always best Sam in fight. No matter what Sam thought.
Author's Notes: I know my tenses are insane. Blame that on me not having the wits to get a beta. Also - I'm not sure about the ending. I have another thought about it that involves a better outcome for Gene but I don't know. I'm trying not to write the same old same old LoM fic. It's up to the readers I guess.
Pairing: Hunt/Tyler
Summary: Gene has an epiphany. Strangely enough he's not too happy about it.
Rating: PG for a bit o' this and that.
Spoiler Warnings: Vague references to events of Season 1. Couple of specific 1x08 spoilers.
Word Count: 1,590
Disclaimer: Gene, Sam and Life on Mars belong t'Auntie. No stealing for me.
Notes: For the First Life on Mars Ficathon. My assignment was "Sam/Gene, alcohol, the canal". I think this is alright. At least I hope it is. Unbetaed because I don't think ahead. And hey - it's still the 17th in America right? So it's technically not late at all!
For soulstar. Hope you like it.
The more they all drank the rowdier the Arms became, Gene even persuaded into a performance of the only piece of new ‘music’ that he liked by a cajoling Sam. Sam joined in part way through the chorus, slinging an arm around the older man’s neck and singing loudly in his ear.
Gene had had an epiphany. At least he was pretty sure that’s what it was. The four glasses of the Arms’ finest whiskey gathered in his stomach agreed almost conclusively. The fifth glass, circled by his hands on the bar, wasn’t so sure but seemed likely to give in to the pressure when it joined the others.
But the epiphany. The epiphany was of a delicate nature and in all honesty Gene really didn’t want to pay that much attention to it. Unfortunately that wasn’t to be, especially with the subject of the epiphany currently knocking a pint back beside him. The amber liquid sliding down his throat as he effortlessly drank down half of it in one shot.
Gene gulped. He wasn’t staring, at least he thought he wasn’t staring, but Sam turned and winked at him, lips curving up in a cheeky smile. Gene sniffed at him and turned back to his own drink. Sam moved away to talk to the plonk, chuckling to himself.
Gene was pretty sure he’d never felt like this before and as such the epiphany had come as something of a shock to him. Alright, maybe there was his mate Tom in school, but he was pretty sure that that hadn’t actually happened. And, yeah, there was Jimmy during his early days at the force - but that had just been, what had Sam said? - male bonding. Oh, sure, part of the motivation for hiring Chris had been the ‘something’ that Gene had found appealing about him.
But it couldn’t mean what he thought it meant. And he wouldn’t even be thinking about if Sam bloody Tyler hadn’t shown up and ruined it for everyone.
He hated that it might actually make sense.
Especially when he looked at Ray. And at Ray looking at Chris.
If he was being honest about it he’d always been aware of the ‘something’ between Ray and Chris. Although he was pretty certain that it was a one-way street. And he couldn’t really blame Ray for coming after Sam the way he had when it was obvious innocent little Chris was fond of the DI. Fond in a completely innocent way too.
He couldn’t blame Ray at all really. Not when he. Couldn’t. Stop. Staring. At Sam.
Sam was drunk and when he was drunk he was all smiles and easy hand gestures. He had a right to be drunk of course. Just as every other CID member did. They’d finally nailed down the slag behind the brutal Dockyard killing, due in no small part to one of Sam’s odd techniques, and deserved the relax.
The more they all drank the rowdier the Arms became, Gene even persuaded into a performance of the only piece of new ‘music’ that he liked by a cajoling Sam. Sam joined in part way through the chorus, slinging an arm around the older man’s neck and singing loudly in his ear.
Gene hated that he’d come to this. Gene Hunt, who always took what he wanted - when he wanted, embarrassing himself in front of his entire team for a fleeting contact with the person he - come on, you can say it - fancied.
He’d forgiven Sam everything. He’d forgive him everything he might do in the future just to have this contact when he wanted. To taste those beer soaked lips.
Christ. He was losing it. And he knew he was losing it when time came and went and he suggested that Sam come for a walk down the canal before heading home.
Gene didn’t know what he was thinking when he suggested it but pliable, drunken, beautiful Sam agreed readily and was shrugging his coat on before Gene could think up an excuse for them to not go. He didn’t really trust himself alone with Sam in the state the two of them were in.
“What are you waiting for?” Sam asked, already standing by the door by the time Gene had thought his way to the end of that unsavoury thought.
“Alright, sunshine, keep ya shirt on,” Gene said, grabbing his own coat and trying desperately hard not to think about shirtless Sam. That only ever led to one result and Gene really didn’t want to be carrying a raging hard-on around the streets of Manchester.
The canal had a reputation for crime. They were always dragging bodies out of the water. There. That helped relieve the stress somewhat.
“Guv?” the title was a question and Sam’s voice was a lot quieter than usual.
Gene looked down at the smaller man suddenly looking very serious.
“What?” Gene asked, turning away before he did something he’d regret. Why did he have to have those eyes?
“You still haven’t said anything about -” Sam left the sentence hanging and Gene didn’t have to be a mind-reading to know what he was getting at.
“There’s nothing to say,” Gene said, sniffing, and that, at least, had done for his little problem.
“Come on, Gene,” Sam dropped the rank as he often did when they were alone, “You should have thrown the book at me”
“You pointed a gun at me, Sam,” Gene said, stopping suddenly, “It’s not like you actually shot me. You weren’t in your right mind”
Sam laughed.
“Because if I was in my right mind I would have pulled the trigger?” he asked, almost giggling.
Gene shook his head slowly, trying not to find the giggles endearing.
“If you were in your right mind, Sam, you wouldn’t have thought about letting Vic go in the first place,” Gene said, just loud enough to be heard over Sam’s giggling.
Sam stopped laughing abruptly and stared up at Gene, his mouth hanging open slightly and his eyes widening.
That’s right.
Sam kept staring at him and Gene found his eyes drawn back to those lips he’d began to covet so much. Enough was enough. He’d never been shy and now was not the time to start.
With a speed that he didn’t know he possessed he turned and pushed Sam up against the wall, one hand gripping Sam’s arm and the other wrapped tight wound the nape of his neck. Sam’s eyes widened even further but Gene had no time to register the expression before bringing his mouth down over Sam’s.
Sam froze underneath him as Gene dipped his tongue into Sam’s mouth, tasting the evening’s beer and cigarettes. He lost control of himself long enough for a soft moan to escape him as Sam’s tongue moved forward to trace over his and slide into his own mouth. The kiss had started tentative but at Sam’s response Gene pressed harder, relaxing his grip on Sam’s arm and resting that hand against the wall.
Then Sam was pushing him back and swearing.
“Jesus Christ, Gene,” he nearly shouted, “What the hell do you think you’re doing”
Gene stared at Sam furiously for a moment, chest heaving up and down from exerting himself. Sam looked mortified. Mortified damn it. Gene’s vaunted instinct had led him down the wrong path. He slumped back against the canal railing and raised a hand to his face.
“Oh God, oh Gene,” Sam said, suddenly very quiet. There were soft footsteps and Gene felt Sam lean against the railing beside him.
Gene didn’t say anything. Couldn’t say anything. He was going to be the laughing stock of the police station. No. No that couldn’t happen. No-one could know. He was going to have to throw Sam in the canal - there was nothing else for it. It was the only way.
“I won’t say anything,” Sam said, “If that’s what you’re thinking. You don’t have to throw me in the canal or anything”
Gene looked at him sharply to see Sam smiling slightly although there was a touch of sadness to it.
“I thought -” Gene started before shaking his head.
“Yeah, I guessed,” Sam said, “Look - it’s flattering, really it is. But Gene - I don’t go that way. I’m not sure what made you think I did”
Gene mumbled something about Chris and Ray and his theory and Sam laughed. A genuinely loud, cheering laugh.
“That would honestly explain a lot,” he said when he quietened then more seriously; “I’m sorry if I ever gave you - if I ever led you on”
“Don’t think you did,” Gene said, “But I -”
“Whatever Gene Hunt wants - he takes. Right?” Sam said, shaking his head.
“Somethin’ like that,” Gene said.
“This is new, right? Something you haven’t done before,” Sam continued.
Gene could do nothing but nod.
“Listen,” Sam said, clapping him on the back companionably, “I’ve had a few friends go through what you’re going through right now. Why don’t you come back to mine - not like that - we’ll have a cup of tea and see if we can sort this out. Sound good?”
“Yeah,” Gene said after a moments pause, “A cuppa would be brilliant”
“I bet it would,” Sam said, pushing off from the railing.
“I’m not a poof,” Gene said as he joined Sam.
“Sure,” Sam said, rolling his eyes, “Because the whole male-bonding obsession is so heterosexual”
“You little bastard!” Gene threw a punch but Sam ducked of the way and started running up the canal path, laughing. Gene watched him for a moment before giving chase. He may have been wrong for the first time tonight and his gut may have let him down - but there was one thing Gene would always have: he could always best Sam in fight. No matter what Sam thought.
Author's Notes: I know my tenses are insane. Blame that on me not having the wits to get a beta. Also - I'm not sure about the ending. I have another thought about it that involves a better outcome for Gene but I don't know. I'm trying not to write the same old same old LoM fic. It's up to the readers I guess.