It was almost Christmas and Christmas signalled one thing - days off. They all switched shifts around the holidays and as he and Sam managed to get both Christmas Day and boxing day off, Gene was already in the festive mood. Even if it was a while away, Gene was already acting like he was on holiday
There he was, firing darts at the bored and basically ignoring Sam. Sam could forge his signature and why wouldn't he? He did before!
"Sign for me and I'll let you play in our tournament?"
Sam just wanted Gene to take a little pride in his work. Was that so wrong? He use to do better before Sam started babying him and doing his work for him.
"I already wrote the bloody report for you!"
He was so annoyed. Mostly because it was Christmas eve! He had to get Peter in a few hours, try to wear him out so he'd go to sleep. And then there was setting out the gifts and-- Sam frowned and risked life and limb to storm over to the board. He put his hands on his hips and growled.
Gene threw the dart and almost clipped Sams ear, only just missing any flesh. Now that was a skill and a half. Smirking, he snatched the paper and squiggled something that kind of looked like his signature. Shoving it in Sams hands, he signed and grabbed his coat off the rack. He knew why Sam was all fidgety.
Because Peter was without them on Christmas eve and he hated that. Gene kind of hated it as well. Peter woke up so happy, leaping on the bed and whining that they should all go sledding or something. He was hard to pry from Sams side today. He had demanded they all meet up after work so Peter can go see that santa at the shopping centre.
"Let's just hope the daft sod hasn't frozen himself in the snow, yeah?"
Yes, all Sam wanted to do was pick Peter up from school and take him out. The little boy just didn't realize that there was still a full day of classes because generally, parents had to work. Still, he had assured the boy that Sherlock would be there and they'd have treats and sing and it would be a really fun day.
In the end, Sam OK'd bringing Gene Jr. to school with him. It was the only way to shut the dear boy up and pack him into the car.
"The teachers wouldn't let him stand outside--" Sam started saying before Chris burst into Gene's office.
"Guv! There's been a hostage situation!"
Again? Sam nearly got himself killed last year (and was so use to it that he didn't even flinch when Gene threw a dart at him a moment ago). He rolled his eyes. "An' one I'm not part of."
Okaaaay >: I'm if here you need help... sortalittlecarlisleDecember 10 2011, 14:19:16 UTC
"I'm Lloyd. And I need £500 and for all you coppers not to touch me. Got it? I want that money fast or I'll-- I'll blow a kids head off!" the distressed man yelled before whipping back into the room. Gene winced - that was a lot of money.
Maybe not in modern day where Sam came from but in 1970, finding that much in a hurry was useless.
"I got £5," Chris offered and Gene sighed and covered his eyes. This was just great.
As Santa returned to the room, the rest of the hostages settled down around the room with a small pout, some still sniffling while the younger ones napped... kids were not the best hostages.
"I'm bored," Peter whispered to Sherlock with a small pout.
"Get a line to the bank that backs these sorts of things," Sam murmured as he stood with Gene and the rest of the gang behind the car line. "I'm going to head up there and see if I can't get some hostages released."
He strode back across the snow covered pitch, stopping rather a bit closer than he had been last time.
"Lloyd, it's Sam again. Listen, it's pretty cold in there and it's going to get even colder, so don't have the windows open. How about you move to the office and we can talk on the phone?"
"I'll open the windows if I fucking want to, you know it all copper!" Lloyd yelled, throwing a nearby window open letting the draft in. It was freezing and fortunately most kids were dressed for the cold but it didn't make it any better. Peter wriggled his hands up into the sleeves of his reindeer jumper and he hoped Sherlocks coat was thick enough.
He really wanted his friend to be okay.
"I'll get to the phone but I'm not going alone," the man yelled down before gesturing his gun towards Peter, Sherlock and two boys sitting behind them. "Oi! You lot, come into the office with me. The rest of you? Don't you dare move or you're dead."
Sam had no idea who Lloyd was bringing with him, but that was for the best. He trotted back to the cars and asked Gene if they had their command center set up. Luckily, they did, just across the street in one of the accessory buildings.
"I need a direct line to the administration office and I need for it to always be open."
Smacking on his gum, Chris grinned. "Already done, boss."
Sam grinned and put a hand on the other man's shoulder. "Well done, Chris. Find out how many kids and teachers are still inside."
Lloyd, naturally, didn't think much of Gene. He just looked like an old bloke who was probably just working to retirement with no promotions. Naturally incompetent. Which explained the lack of worry. Lloyd casually pointed his gun elsewhere and smirked at the stupid idiot in front of him. "Got my money?"
Gene nodded and inched forward to be in view. There were all teh kids, four boys and one girl, all looking scared. Well all but Sherlock who seemed more put-upon. Peter perked up right away and waved, trying his hardest to talk to Gene quietly by whispering. "Hey Gene!"
And, the moment Lloyd turned to tell the little bastard off, Gene got him right through the leg. Crying out, the man in the santa suit fell down, still gripping his gun and firing blindly. The bullet missed a direct shot but narrowly clipped Peter's arm, causing the boy to cry out.
That was it, bullet right through the eyes. Yep, Gene killed Santa. And shame as well, he hated the paper work for fatality outcomes.
Three shots. That was all that Sam needed to hear. He was already moving on the first, but before he got across the grounds, the final two played through the air. The rest of the team were right behind him, charging along, weapons drawn. The teacher and some of the kids streamed from the door a moment later, and Sam almost wanted to kick them for making such a mess of things here.
He needed to get in there, not get clogged by kids! None of whom were Peter!
Sam burst into the room to find a man dead and Gene crouched down in front of someone. Sherlock sighed through his nose. "You killed Santa, Mr. Hunt. On Christmas Eve. There are still kids that believe in him."
"I know, Sherlock!" Gene snapped as he tugged Peter's jumper off him and yanked up the sleeve of his shirt to look at the damage. Nothing too bad, just a graze. Fortunately it wasn't too bad, probably just need to be cleaned and bandaged. He moved aside to let Sam get in closer. He was going to freak.
"Gene killed Santa!" Was the first thing Peter said to Sam, looking more distressed over a dead Santa than any wound. "I won't get anything for Christmas! Neither will Sherlock!"
"He wasn't Santa!" Gene complained as he moved closer to the dead body, trying to think really fast of a way to clear this up. "He's... Atnas. He's the evil santa who punishes the good and praises the bad. He needed to die."
And a very distressed and hurt Peter looked at Sherlock for confirmation. Annnd Gene gave him a look that said if he didn't play along, he'd shoot Sherlock.
Just a graze. Barely any wound. Thank God! Sam hugged Peter and cried into his hair like an idiot. He didn't care. This was a happy day for him. Everyone was alive.
Sherlock, not really caring about Gene's look, still didn't want to see Peter distraught. "Why would the real Santa be here anyhow? With a gun? Impossible. Couldn't have been the real one, Peter."
The logic, at the very least, was sound.
"We'll still have Christmas, I promise," Sam said as Ray kicked the dead, red suited man to see if the body would move.
"Oh really? Okay, I suppose that makes sense. One dad, one Gene. Though I don't get how that other dad is my real dad. I don't know 'im. So you're my proper dad, he's ... a nice guy I dunno," Peter sussed out before grinning at Gene. "Gene is just a friend, I know this. He doesn't sleep on our sofa or in your bed and you guys don't kiss or wrestle either."
"Exactly, good job," Gene praised, just glad the idiot was learning. The last thing they needed was to be outted.
"Okay, I understand," Peter declared, much to the relief of everyone. "We're a family but we're not a family. I like it."
And with that, Peter was whisked off by Sam as dinner seemed to be more or less over. Peter had been picking at his plate, so he'd probably eaten too much batter. Again. Sam just let it go. He'd wrap up the left overs and make an omelette with it in the morning. He was creative like that.
For the moment, however, Sam carefully set Peter back to work mixing batter as he poured out the cookies and swapped them for the ones in the oven. Within half an hour, there were piles on the table and a very tired little boy watching programs on the telly with a precocious cat for a pillow.
Sam finished up the cookie making and got Gene his scotch before he slid an arm around the other man and pressed his lips to his ear to whisper.
"'Ear that? A family."
Gene hadn't had many things before Sam came. He had an illusion, an improper burial, and a loveless, violent marriage. Sam might be a pain in the arse, but he did give Gene quite a lot.
"Yeah, family but not a family," Gene mused, still finding this whole thing one giant and scary culture shock that he still wasn't 100% sure on how it happened. But he liked it, he loved Sam and he loved Peter to an extent that he didn't want to kill him - life was pretty good.
Looking at the clearly pleased Sam, he relented and gave the daft sod a kiss.
"Lets refrain from getting matching family jumpers, eh?" he joked, turning his head to see the sleeping Peter hugging little Sam cat tight. Well, looked like they had time to wrap the presents. "He's asleep, Sam."
After getting Peter into his bed, carefully, not wanting to wake him, and setting the cat down with him, Sam followed Gene downstairs to do the wrapping at the Guv's flat. He hummed a little, corrected some of the packaging errors Gene did by adding extra tape to rips and extra paper to gaps. Peter was going to have a decent Christmas. Neither of them were that rich and renting out two places shrank their budget, but they still managed to pull enough together so that Peter would be happy.
And that was when Sam presented Gene with a big, red, fluffy jacket. Santa style.
He'd bought it a few days ago, just the hat and jacket, but it felt somewhat poignant to give it to the man tonight. "I know Peter won't see it, but you did shoot Santa. Might as well be Santa for me tonight."
The cowboy merchandise never got old. He looked it over before offering Sam a grimace... course in Gene manner, that was kind of a half smile. Looking with over with appreciation, he watched Peter standing on his tip toes, trying to see.
"Got proper cowboy stuff from Santa this year, Pete," Gene told the boy, showing him the badge and grinning when Peter did. God that kid could get over excited over anything and it was hard not to laugh at him. But hell, it was a damn fine present.
"You're a sheriff!"
"Yep and Sams my deputy," Gene informed him, giving Sam an amused look. Definitely a great gift.
After all the presents were opened, Sam wandered into the kitchen to start cooking their dinner. He could hear Peter still running around out there. Ah, just like last year. Another perfect Christmas. He couldn't stop grinning. Gene had been pleased, and that, even more than Peter's excitement, had left Sam feeling better than usual.
Peter just got excited over everything. Sam could have given him two pots to clang together and Peter would have been thrilled to death.
He hummed softly under his breath and put the bird in the oven.
Peter's toys ended up everywhere. Literally. They were Everywhere. On the sofa, on the radiator, in Peter's room, in the kitchen, on the sofa, in Gene's mug annnnd in their room. Seriously, it was insanity. Gene was very close to smashing the train set that now sat in the way of the bathroom.
"Daaaad," Peter whined as he headed into the kitchen, tugging at Sams trousers for attention. "Why did Santa leave his clothes on your floor?"
... Bollocks. That was exactly what Gene was meant to do this morning. Well, he kicked half of it under the bed at least.
"Gene startled him and he spilled milk on it. I said I'd wash them for him and he'll come back to pick them up next year. Santa keeps spares in his sleigh for such occasions." Please let Peter buy that.
Sam picked Peter up and swung him around, back towards where the police car was and sighed.
"Sammy Cat doesn't like to be smushed into things unless he does it himself. You shouldn't close him up in the car, Pete."
Comments 85
It was almost Christmas and Christmas signalled one thing - days off. They all switched shifts around the holidays and as he and Sam managed to get both Christmas Day and boxing day off, Gene was already in the festive mood. Even if it was a while away, Gene was already acting like he was on holiday
There he was, firing darts at the bored and basically ignoring Sam. Sam could forge his signature and why wouldn't he? He did before!
"Sign for me and I'll let you play in our tournament?"
Reply
Sam just wanted Gene to take a little pride in his work. Was that so wrong? He use to do better before Sam started babying him and doing his work for him.
"I already wrote the bloody report for you!"
He was so annoyed. Mostly because it was Christmas eve! He had to get Peter in a few hours, try to wear him out so he'd go to sleep. And then there was setting out the gifts and-- Sam frowned and risked life and limb to storm over to the board. He put his hands on his hips and growled.
"Jus' sign, you bloody baby!"
Reply
Because Peter was without them on Christmas eve and he hated that. Gene kind of hated it as well. Peter woke up so happy, leaping on the bed and whining that they should all go sledding or something. He was hard to pry from Sams side today. He had demanded they all meet up after work so Peter can go see that santa at the shopping centre.
"Let's just hope the daft sod hasn't frozen himself in the snow, yeah?"
The sooner they got Pete, the better.
Reply
In the end, Sam OK'd bringing Gene Jr. to school with him. It was the only way to shut the dear boy up and pack him into the car.
"The teachers wouldn't let him stand outside--" Sam started saying before Chris burst into Gene's office.
"Guv! There's been a hostage situation!"
Again? Sam nearly got himself killed last year (and was so use to it that he didn't even flinch when Gene threw a dart at him a moment ago). He rolled his eyes. "An' one I'm not part of."
Reply
Maybe not in modern day where Sam came from but in 1970, finding that much in a hurry was useless.
"I got £5," Chris offered and Gene sighed and covered his eyes. This was just great.
As Santa returned to the room, the rest of the hostages settled down around the room with a small pout, some still sniffling while the younger ones napped... kids were not the best hostages.
"I'm bored," Peter whispered to Sherlock with a small pout.
Reply
He strode back across the snow covered pitch, stopping rather a bit closer than he had been last time.
"Lloyd, it's Sam again. Listen, it's pretty cold in there and it's going to get even colder, so don't have the windows open. How about you move to the office and we can talk on the phone?"
It'd get the gun away from the kids.
Reply
He really wanted his friend to be okay.
"I'll get to the phone but I'm not going alone," the man yelled down before gesturing his gun towards Peter, Sherlock and two boys sitting behind them. "Oi! You lot, come into the office with me. The rest of you? Don't you dare move or you're dead."
Reply
"I need a direct line to the administration office and I need for it to always be open."
Smacking on his gum, Chris grinned. "Already done, boss."
Sam grinned and put a hand on the other man's shoulder. "Well done, Chris. Find out how many kids and teachers are still inside."
Reply
Gene nodded and inched forward to be in view. There were all teh kids, four boys and one girl, all looking scared. Well all but Sherlock who seemed more put-upon. Peter perked up right away and waved, trying his hardest to talk to Gene quietly by whispering. "Hey Gene!"
And, the moment Lloyd turned to tell the little bastard off, Gene got him right through the leg. Crying out, the man in the santa suit fell down, still gripping his gun and firing blindly. The bullet missed a direct shot but narrowly clipped Peter's arm, causing the boy to cry out.
That was it, bullet right through the eyes. Yep, Gene killed Santa. And shame as well, he hated the paper work for fatality outcomes.
Reply
He needed to get in there, not get clogged by kids! None of whom were Peter!
Sam burst into the room to find a man dead and Gene crouched down in front of someone. Sherlock sighed through his nose. "You killed Santa, Mr. Hunt. On Christmas Eve. There are still kids that believe in him."
"Sherlock, where's Pe--"
Oh! Oh God, he was shot!
"Peter!"
Reply
"Gene killed Santa!" Was the first thing Peter said to Sam, looking more distressed over a dead Santa than any wound. "I won't get anything for Christmas! Neither will Sherlock!"
"He wasn't Santa!" Gene complained as he moved closer to the dead body, trying to think really fast of a way to clear this up. "He's... Atnas. He's the evil santa who punishes the good and praises the bad. He needed to die."
And a very distressed and hurt Peter looked at Sherlock for confirmation. Annnd Gene gave him a look that said if he didn't play along, he'd shoot Sherlock.
Reply
Sherlock, not really caring about Gene's look, still didn't want to see Peter distraught. "Why would the real Santa be here anyhow? With a gun? Impossible. Couldn't have been the real one, Peter."
The logic, at the very least, was sound.
"We'll still have Christmas, I promise," Sam said as Ray kicked the dead, red suited man to see if the body would move.
"Nice shot, Guv!"
Reply
"Exactly, good job," Gene praised, just glad the idiot was learning. The last thing they needed was to be outted.
"Okay, I understand," Peter declared, much to the relief of everyone. "We're a family but we're not a family. I like it."
Reply
For the moment, however, Sam carefully set Peter back to work mixing batter as he poured out the cookies and swapped them for the ones in the oven. Within half an hour, there were piles on the table and a very tired little boy watching programs on the telly with a precocious cat for a pillow.
Sam finished up the cookie making and got Gene his scotch before he slid an arm around the other man and pressed his lips to his ear to whisper.
"'Ear that? A family."
Gene hadn't had many things before Sam came. He had an illusion, an improper burial, and a loveless, violent marriage. Sam might be a pain in the arse, but he did give Gene quite a lot.
Reply
Looking at the clearly pleased Sam, he relented and gave the daft sod a kiss.
"Lets refrain from getting matching family jumpers, eh?" he joked, turning his head to see the sleeping Peter hugging little Sam cat tight. Well, looked like they had time to wrap the presents. "He's asleep, Sam."
They had to work to do yet as well!
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And that was when Sam presented Gene with a big, red, fluffy jacket. Santa style.
He'd bought it a few days ago, just the hat and jacket, but it felt somewhat poignant to give it to the man tonight. "I know Peter won't see it, but you did shoot Santa. Might as well be Santa for me tonight."
Reply
"Got proper cowboy stuff from Santa this year, Pete," Gene told the boy, showing him the badge and grinning when Peter did. God that kid could get over excited over anything and it was hard not to laugh at him. But hell, it was a damn fine present.
"You're a sheriff!"
"Yep and Sams my deputy," Gene informed him, giving Sam an amused look. Definitely a great gift.
Reply
Peter just got excited over everything. Sam could have given him two pots to clang together and Peter would have been thrilled to death.
He hummed softly under his breath and put the bird in the oven.
Reply
"Daaaad," Peter whined as he headed into the kitchen, tugging at Sams trousers for attention. "Why did Santa leave his clothes on your floor?"
... Bollocks. That was exactly what Gene was meant to do this morning. Well, he kicked half of it under the bed at least.
"Did he lose them?"
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"Gene startled him and he spilled milk on it. I said I'd wash them for him and he'll come back to pick them up next year. Santa keeps spares in his sleigh for such occasions." Please let Peter buy that.
Sam picked Peter up and swung him around, back towards where the police car was and sighed.
"Sammy Cat doesn't like to be smushed into things unless he does it himself. You shouldn't close him up in the car, Pete."
Reply
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