ausmac
in
lifein1973
Fic: Randy Part 1 by ausmac (Blue Cortina)
Fic: Randy Part 1
Author: Mac
Rating: Blue Cortina at this stage
Characters: Sam, Gene, Randy
Summary: Sam meets Gene's brother, a most extraordinary fella...
Notes: A shorter version of this was posted elsewhere, this part (1,300 words) is longer. I thought I need to wake my creative urges.
Feedback: All comments and responses of a constructive nature are appreciated.
Sam stood, hands on hips, and looked down at his desktop.
There was a pile of files, a pen jar, a tape dispenser, a stapler, an empty coffee cup. After a moment's deliberation, he picked up the cup and hurled it against the wall.
It caused barely a stir, since he'd just had his Monday morning DCI/DI conference and there'd been a certain amount of thumping and shouting coming from Gene Hunt's office. A broken coffee cup thrown by a man in the throes of extreme Hunt-anguish hardly registered.
Chris was, as ever, sympathetic to his DI's plight. "Boss, you okay? If you want -" and then he froze in midsentence, staring at a point past Sam, towards the main office entrance. Even as he turned, Sam noticed the abrupt silence, broken only by an unanswered phone and a pin dropping.
He turned, and his jaw joined the pin.
The big man stood in the middle of doorway, one hand on hip, the other removing his sunglasses and sliding them into a pocket of his cream corduroy jacket. He was wearing a shirt that Sam was fairly certain featured small, artfully patterned flowers, tucked into white corduroy pants. The shirt was open halfway down his chest, showing a set of gold chains beneath. The thick blond hair was swept back off his face.
"Fuck."
Sam wasn't sure who said it, but it was answered by a very familiar crooked smile and the narrowing of equally familiar green eyes. "Anytime, love."
Sam, still uncertain whether he'd slid into another area of reality or not, heard the door behind him open.
"What the hell is going - "
The smile widened. "Surprise!"
Sam swung around slowly. Gene was standing in his office door way, cigarette falling from a suddenly slack mouth. He paled, then flushed. "What the fuck are you doing here!"
Sam swung back, feeling like a doll on a string and watched the big man saunter through the room. "Always sure of a warm welcome." He stopped in front of Gene and held his arms wide. "Do I get a hug?"
Gene quivered as his team watched in fascination. "Piss off! And stop smirkin' at me, yer fairy!"
The visitor swung around to the room, his gaze settling on Sam. He held out his hand and Sam took it, automatically. "Hi there, I'm Randy."
Sam froze, and blinked, confused. "Excuse me?"
"Oye!" Gene's voice was loud with disapproval. The flamboyant figure grinned again, and Sam began to smile in response.
"Sorry, son, he always gets this way when his queer brother visits."
"Queer!" squeaked Ray.
"Brother!" mouthed Sam.
"Shit!" swore Gene.
Gene swiveled on his heel, pushed the door of his office open and walked inside. He turned and sat on his desk, to face the Prodigal Brother, stress swirling around in his gut like an undigested meal.
"You look like a circus clown."
"God loves you, Gene, for your honesty if nothing else." His brother put his hands up and spun around. "You don't like it?"
"Like isn't a word I'd use. Despise ranks high." He sucked in an unhappy breath, aware of a tension that was both frustration and pleasure, coloured by a whole lot of unmeasured guilt. "What are you doin' here, Randolph, other than makin' my life difficult?"
Randy sat in the chair facing Gene's desk, propped his feet on the desk and leant back. "Aunty Catherine."
"Ah." Gene nodded. "I see."
"Only one of the family who didn't turn her back on the queer. When I heard the news, I decided to visit her while I had the chance. And what's fairer than I should drop in and visit my brother."
"Well, you can't stay with me."
Randy stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Now, why am I not surprised at that? And anyhow, wouldn't think of it. I have a nice hotel room, and even if not, I'm sure Aunty Catherine would put me up, and put up with me." He took a card from his pocket and handed it to Gene. "The hotel. Thought we might have dinner."
Gene stared down at the card, focusing his mind on it. "Depends. You plan to behave?"
"I always plan to behave. Listen, why not bring that nice lookin' lad out there with you."
Gene's eyes flickered up to meet Randy's. "Don't even think about it. Tyler's straight."
Randy waved one hand and headed for the door. "That's what they all say, but you'd be amazed how a bit of expert personal attention can put a curve into the straightest man. Call me."
It was simply too hard to resist. The invitation was delivered by a fey young looking man who fluttered at him and handed over the lilac coloured envelope with a laugh, before sailing out of Reception. Sam sniffed the envelope tentatively.
It smells Randy, all right… He laughed aloud at his own wit and turned at the sound of Phyllis clearing her throat.
"That, boss, was the queerest looking queer I ever saw. You know him then?" she asked with interest.
"Not personally, no. But I certainly know the type. I think it was a bit of a stir up."
The envelope contained an invitation. You're invited. Dinner at the Palace Hotel at eight. Don't disappoint me.
After a shower at home, Sam pondered his wardrobe. It was sadly limited; six work shirts, three work pants, two coats. None of them were very dinner-ish. The black one with the small silver spots was probably the most like an evening shirt, and he chose it eventually, tucking it into his black trousers and shinning his boots up as best he could. With his leather jacket on top, it was at least neat, if not very flashy.
Randy seemed to approve though; the grin was crooked but approving as he rose to greet Sam when he entered the restaurant.
"Wasn't sure you'd come."
"Wasn't sure I should," Sam said lightly as he settled into the chair opposite. "My curiosity will likely be the death o'me one day."
Sam was aware that Randy's attire was a lot more restrained than the gear he'd worn at CID. Dark pants, a grey shirt, dark blue coat, dark blue tie. Very businesslike, and not looking like it was off the rack at any store Sam could afford to frequent.
They ordered, with Sam trying not to wince at the menu's prices. One meal here would take up most of his weekly food bill; he'd be living on baked beans and toast till payday. In a flash of frustration, he picked the steak, mentally counting the money in his wallet. Enough for that, but not for dessert or drinks.
Randy saved him the effort of explaining by ordering a bottle of wine for both of them. When he frowned and shook his head, the big man looked offended. "'Excuse me, but I did invite you to dinner. Least I can do is buy some average Italian plonk."
As Sam spread butter on his bread roll, he watched Randy Hunt in the way a zoologist studied a recently discovered exotic creature. Randy looked exactly like Gene; every feature, the colouring, the physique, even many of the gestures and expressions. There were differences but they were intriguing ones. This man had a certain style, was more physically graceful and he smiled more easily than his brother did. Yet even with the easy social manners and frequent smiles, Sam guessed there were hurts hidden away beneath the cosmopolitan exterior. If he was gay, then Randy Hunt would know all about being hurt.
Somehow, after dinner, they ended up in Randy's room upstairs. It just seemed to happen, as conversation in the restaurant led on to conversation in the hallway; Randy offered him coffee upstairs and, feeling comfortable and replete with good food, Sam agreed without thought.
It was only when he entered Randy's hotel room, and found himself pressed back against the closed door by a large, confident body, that the thought occurred to him that he might have misunderstood some gay messages along the way somewhere…..
Author: Mac
Rating: Blue Cortina at this stage
Characters: Sam, Gene, Randy
Summary: Sam meets Gene's brother, a most extraordinary fella...
Notes: A shorter version of this was posted elsewhere, this part (1,300 words) is longer. I thought I need to wake my creative urges.
Feedback: All comments and responses of a constructive nature are appreciated.
Sam stood, hands on hips, and looked down at his desktop.
There was a pile of files, a pen jar, a tape dispenser, a stapler, an empty coffee cup. After a moment's deliberation, he picked up the cup and hurled it against the wall.
It caused barely a stir, since he'd just had his Monday morning DCI/DI conference and there'd been a certain amount of thumping and shouting coming from Gene Hunt's office. A broken coffee cup thrown by a man in the throes of extreme Hunt-anguish hardly registered.
Chris was, as ever, sympathetic to his DI's plight. "Boss, you okay? If you want -" and then he froze in midsentence, staring at a point past Sam, towards the main office entrance. Even as he turned, Sam noticed the abrupt silence, broken only by an unanswered phone and a pin dropping.
He turned, and his jaw joined the pin.
The big man stood in the middle of doorway, one hand on hip, the other removing his sunglasses and sliding them into a pocket of his cream corduroy jacket. He was wearing a shirt that Sam was fairly certain featured small, artfully patterned flowers, tucked into white corduroy pants. The shirt was open halfway down his chest, showing a set of gold chains beneath. The thick blond hair was swept back off his face.
"Fuck."
Sam wasn't sure who said it, but it was answered by a very familiar crooked smile and the narrowing of equally familiar green eyes. "Anytime, love."
Sam, still uncertain whether he'd slid into another area of reality or not, heard the door behind him open.
"What the hell is going - "
The smile widened. "Surprise!"
Sam swung around slowly. Gene was standing in his office door way, cigarette falling from a suddenly slack mouth. He paled, then flushed. "What the fuck are you doing here!"
Sam swung back, feeling like a doll on a string and watched the big man saunter through the room. "Always sure of a warm welcome." He stopped in front of Gene and held his arms wide. "Do I get a hug?"
Gene quivered as his team watched in fascination. "Piss off! And stop smirkin' at me, yer fairy!"
The visitor swung around to the room, his gaze settling on Sam. He held out his hand and Sam took it, automatically. "Hi there, I'm Randy."
Sam froze, and blinked, confused. "Excuse me?"
"Oye!" Gene's voice was loud with disapproval. The flamboyant figure grinned again, and Sam began to smile in response.
"Sorry, son, he always gets this way when his queer brother visits."
"Queer!" squeaked Ray.
"Brother!" mouthed Sam.
"Shit!" swore Gene.
Gene swiveled on his heel, pushed the door of his office open and walked inside. He turned and sat on his desk, to face the Prodigal Brother, stress swirling around in his gut like an undigested meal.
"You look like a circus clown."
"God loves you, Gene, for your honesty if nothing else." His brother put his hands up and spun around. "You don't like it?"
"Like isn't a word I'd use. Despise ranks high." He sucked in an unhappy breath, aware of a tension that was both frustration and pleasure, coloured by a whole lot of unmeasured guilt. "What are you doin' here, Randolph, other than makin' my life difficult?"
Randy sat in the chair facing Gene's desk, propped his feet on the desk and leant back. "Aunty Catherine."
"Ah." Gene nodded. "I see."
"Only one of the family who didn't turn her back on the queer. When I heard the news, I decided to visit her while I had the chance. And what's fairer than I should drop in and visit my brother."
"Well, you can't stay with me."
Randy stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Now, why am I not surprised at that? And anyhow, wouldn't think of it. I have a nice hotel room, and even if not, I'm sure Aunty Catherine would put me up, and put up with me." He took a card from his pocket and handed it to Gene. "The hotel. Thought we might have dinner."
Gene stared down at the card, focusing his mind on it. "Depends. You plan to behave?"
"I always plan to behave. Listen, why not bring that nice lookin' lad out there with you."
Gene's eyes flickered up to meet Randy's. "Don't even think about it. Tyler's straight."
Randy waved one hand and headed for the door. "That's what they all say, but you'd be amazed how a bit of expert personal attention can put a curve into the straightest man. Call me."
It was simply too hard to resist. The invitation was delivered by a fey young looking man who fluttered at him and handed over the lilac coloured envelope with a laugh, before sailing out of Reception. Sam sniffed the envelope tentatively.
It smells Randy, all right… He laughed aloud at his own wit and turned at the sound of Phyllis clearing her throat.
"That, boss, was the queerest looking queer I ever saw. You know him then?" she asked with interest.
"Not personally, no. But I certainly know the type. I think it was a bit of a stir up."
The envelope contained an invitation. You're invited. Dinner at the Palace Hotel at eight. Don't disappoint me.
After a shower at home, Sam pondered his wardrobe. It was sadly limited; six work shirts, three work pants, two coats. None of them were very dinner-ish. The black one with the small silver spots was probably the most like an evening shirt, and he chose it eventually, tucking it into his black trousers and shinning his boots up as best he could. With his leather jacket on top, it was at least neat, if not very flashy.
Randy seemed to approve though; the grin was crooked but approving as he rose to greet Sam when he entered the restaurant.
"Wasn't sure you'd come."
"Wasn't sure I should," Sam said lightly as he settled into the chair opposite. "My curiosity will likely be the death o'me one day."
Sam was aware that Randy's attire was a lot more restrained than the gear he'd worn at CID. Dark pants, a grey shirt, dark blue coat, dark blue tie. Very businesslike, and not looking like it was off the rack at any store Sam could afford to frequent.
They ordered, with Sam trying not to wince at the menu's prices. One meal here would take up most of his weekly food bill; he'd be living on baked beans and toast till payday. In a flash of frustration, he picked the steak, mentally counting the money in his wallet. Enough for that, but not for dessert or drinks.
Randy saved him the effort of explaining by ordering a bottle of wine for both of them. When he frowned and shook his head, the big man looked offended. "'Excuse me, but I did invite you to dinner. Least I can do is buy some average Italian plonk."
As Sam spread butter on his bread roll, he watched Randy Hunt in the way a zoologist studied a recently discovered exotic creature. Randy looked exactly like Gene; every feature, the colouring, the physique, even many of the gestures and expressions. There were differences but they were intriguing ones. This man had a certain style, was more physically graceful and he smiled more easily than his brother did. Yet even with the easy social manners and frequent smiles, Sam guessed there were hurts hidden away beneath the cosmopolitan exterior. If he was gay, then Randy Hunt would know all about being hurt.
Somehow, after dinner, they ended up in Randy's room upstairs. It just seemed to happen, as conversation in the restaurant led on to conversation in the hallway; Randy offered him coffee upstairs and, feeling comfortable and replete with good food, Sam agreed without thought.
It was only when he entered Randy's hotel room, and found himself pressed back against the closed door by a large, confident body, that the thought occurred to him that he might have misunderstood some gay messages along the way somewhere…..