assorted drabbles, by candesgirl, white to brown cortina
Author:
candesgirl
Pairing: Mostly Sam/Gene, one Gene/Gregory House crossover
Rating: White all the way to brown cortina
Disclaimer: I don't own Sam, Gene, House, the BBC, Kudos or Fox. This is all for fun.
Word Count: All drabbles are 100 words exactly, except for the Gene/House drabble, which is 200 words, so technically two drabbles
I grabbed this meme of drabble requests off of
karaokegal and got some fun Life on Mars requests, thought I could share them here! They really were fun to do I tell you : ) I am still taking requests if anyone is interested.
For meerkitty868, aftermath of 1.07, Gene/Sam, white cortina:
Gene isn’t a man to bite his tongue, never been afraid to say what’s on his mind, yet all he could say to Sam was “good.” One word and he was gone, off before the real reply could leave his lips, before the bile in his belly had a chance to turn and twist itself into anger; into a feeling of betrayal. He walked away, sure that his DI, his friend, didn’t lie. No, holier than thou Sammy boy was too good for that. He couldn’t give up that easily, but could he give them, give Gene, up that easily?
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For karaokegal, Gene/House crossover, white cortina:
He eyes the man at the bar, spots the kindred spirit in tan camel hair the moment he walks in, right around the same time he spots the half empty bottle of single malt scotch and even emptier stool by his side. He’d saddle up to him if he could, looks down instead with indifference at his gimpy leg and decides if the object of his interest, or rather the object next to his interest, can rock that sharp coat, then he can rock the gimpy leg. He hobbles over and thrusts the cane across the bar, dirt falling from it and landing in front of Gene.
“Of course I’ll have a drink with you, stop asking. You’re embarrassing me.” House says as he slides into the chair, graceful as he can be.
Gene casts him a sideways glance before looking briefly down at the mess, body never moving, hands never leaving his glass. “That’d be the end you shove up your arse, then?”
House looks around in mock surprise, clutching at his heart. “And they say romance is dead.” He quips as he motions to the barkeep for a glass and looks at the man who could be a mirror.
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For severinne, Sam/Gene, salicious and involving gloves, brown cortina:
He draws them out of his pocket, not needing to look at Sam to know his nostrils are flared, his cheeks flushed and his eyes glossed over with something akin to lust. He grins, a feral thing that spreads over his features causing him instead to snarl as he slips the battered leather over his meaty hands, tugging on each finger in a languid and suggestive manner, pulling the material taut finally at the wrists. He runs leather clad fingers slowly towards the glass of amber liquid, brushing up against Sam’s heat on his way, searching for bare, charged skin.
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For jean_genie, Sam catering to one of Gene's kinks, Sam/Gene, brown cortina:
He’s been watching the younger man all night, from his corner of this nameless bar. It isn’t a place he comes to often, will never be his regular sort of hang out. This is a place reserved solely for that sort of night, for this sort of game.
The interesting party has taken notice of Gene, finally and makes his way towards him, past men younger and more attractive, wildly lustful eyes only on him.
“Come here often?” Sam whispers in his ear as he slides into the seat next to Gene. “Don’t think I’ve seen you ‘round here before.”
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For dragonlit, Sam/Gene, the boys having a punch up that leads to clothes coming off, brown cortina:
The punch to his gut is both inevitable and expected; the fierce look in his eyes when he comes up for air and the scorching lips on his own, though likely as inevitable, are not expected.
The clothes being torn away and tossed to the side is then expected. The intensity, the harshness, the sense of immediate urgency is also expected. The tenderness behind it all, the soft bare skin he finds under layers of clothing, the moment of feeling like he exists again, or maybe even for the first time, that is an expectation he’d hoped for and found.
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