Jiggety-jog
Title: Jiggety-jog
Author: fawsley
Characters: Sam/Gene, mention of Gene's mum
Rating: green Cortina
Word count: 700ish
Disclaimer: All the property of the BBC and Kudos
Summary: nepthys_uk and I had coffee at Borough Market, Sam only wishes he could...
Notes: In which we eavesdrop for a moment in the Gene!knows arc of Spit and promise, The pledge, and The time traveller's lover.
Another catching-up fic written after having met nepthys_uk for coffee in the amazing, wonderful Borough Market. I was in the queue when the bunny bit. Written in my head on the train on the way home two espressos later and posted as soon as I got in.
Jiggety-jog
‘She doesn’t like me, does she?’
‘What d’you expect? You corrupted her beloved golden heterosexual son and heir, turned him into a rampant poofter!’
‘Wasn’t any corruption involved, you were a latent poofter waiting to happen, I was just the happy catalyst. Though I agree about the rampant bit, specially after last night’s performance. But do you think she really knows? I mean really knows? That I'm more than just your DI?’
‘Course she does. She’s a mum. Mums know things. Where d’you think I got my phenomenal powers of detection from?’
‘Not out a lucky bag, that’s for sure.’
‘Not out a teabag either. This cuppa’s ruddy dish-water.’
‘Surprised you haven’t bought yourself a doughnut to dunk in it. Not like you.’
‘Still full up on mum’s Victoria sponge.’
‘Thought you had the Battenberg.’
‘I did. But she slipped me a nice big slice of sponge on my way out. All wrapped up in a paper napkin. Lovely. There’s a bit for you too in my pocket. Or there was... She can't hate you that much if she goes giving you lumps of her best cake.’
‘I might just hate you for eating it though. She bakes a good ‘un, I’ll give her that.’
‘Proper decent pot of tea too, not like this cat’s piddle. Knows how to rustle up a grand old fashioned spread does my mum.’
‘One day there’ll be proper tea and coffee shops with more blends than you could shake a stick at. You’ll love it. We’ll work our way through from espresso to mocha, English breakfast to Rose Pouchong.’
‘Doughnuts?’
‘Cake as good as your mum’s if you’re lucky.’
‘Roll on 2006 in that case!’
‘When the day comes, I’m not letting you anywhere near Krispy Kreme.’
‘Think I’ll be grateful for that. Sounds like the state of my manhood the morning after yet another night before.’
‘Thanks to that enduring image, I’ll never be able to eat a doughnut ever again.’
‘You never eat ‘em in the first place! Forever picking at stuff only fit for rabbits, trying to make me your own personal culinary guinea pig. No wonder you’re so bloody skinny. Not an ounce of muscle on you. Which is why it’s me not you carting these damn great bags of compost heap around.’
‘You insisted on carrying it all, wanted to show off your manly physique you said! And the veg isn’t that bad. Well, yeah, it is actually. One day, Gene, one day there’ll be farmers’ markets...’
‘And what the hell would I want to buy a farmer for when I've got you to plough my arse for me while I scatter my good seed on the...’
‘Shut up! Shut up you idiot! We're in public, remember? Honestly! Anyway, it’s where they go to sell their produce.’
‘Shouldn’t they be busy shagging sheep, not playing at keeping shop? What’s the point of that?’
‘It’s fantastic stuff, amazing quality and variety, better than anything you can get in the supermarket. You know exactly where it’s come from and it’s all fresh and local.’
‘I can get fresh and local down Canal Street if I want it.’
‘You’d better not!’
‘Don’t worry your pretty head, Sammy. Course I don’t. And I won’t. Not ever. Just kidding.’
‘Better be. Right. Tea break over. Back we go to the market that time forgot.’
‘No randy farmers proffering you their sordid wares just yet, Sam.’
‘One day, one day...’
‘I dunno. My mum lives in the past, you live in the future. Not sure where that puts me.’
‘All present and correct, I reckon.’
‘Good to hear you acknowledge that I’m always right.’
‘Didn’t say that.’
‘Did. And I’m also right in thinking that I’ve had enough bloody shopping for one day.’
‘Have you now? And do I get any say in the matter?’
‘No. Home, Sammy, and don’t spare the Genie.’
‘I won’t, love. I won’t. Haven't forgiven you for eating my bit of cake. And I've got plans for that cucumber...’
0o0
AN: Another angsty episode here Rushes and sort of more in the series here in Curiosity. And if you need your memory refreshing as to what happened to that cucumber when they got home, there's always When I grow up I want to be...
Author: fawsley
Characters: Sam/Gene, mention of Gene's mum
Rating: green Cortina
Word count: 700ish
Disclaimer: All the property of the BBC and Kudos
Summary: nepthys_uk and I had coffee at Borough Market, Sam only wishes he could...
Notes: In which we eavesdrop for a moment in the Gene!knows arc of Spit and promise, The pledge, and The time traveller's lover.
Another catching-up fic written after having met nepthys_uk for coffee in the amazing, wonderful Borough Market. I was in the queue when the bunny bit. Written in my head on the train on the way home two espressos later and posted as soon as I got in.
Jiggety-jog
‘She doesn’t like me, does she?’
‘What d’you expect? You corrupted her beloved golden heterosexual son and heir, turned him into a rampant poofter!’
‘Wasn’t any corruption involved, you were a latent poofter waiting to happen, I was just the happy catalyst. Though I agree about the rampant bit, specially after last night’s performance. But do you think she really knows? I mean really knows? That I'm more than just your DI?’
‘Course she does. She’s a mum. Mums know things. Where d’you think I got my phenomenal powers of detection from?’
‘Not out a lucky bag, that’s for sure.’
‘Not out a teabag either. This cuppa’s ruddy dish-water.’
‘Surprised you haven’t bought yourself a doughnut to dunk in it. Not like you.’
‘Still full up on mum’s Victoria sponge.’
‘Thought you had the Battenberg.’
‘I did. But she slipped me a nice big slice of sponge on my way out. All wrapped up in a paper napkin. Lovely. There’s a bit for you too in my pocket. Or there was... She can't hate you that much if she goes giving you lumps of her best cake.’
‘I might just hate you for eating it though. She bakes a good ‘un, I’ll give her that.’
‘Proper decent pot of tea too, not like this cat’s piddle. Knows how to rustle up a grand old fashioned spread does my mum.’
‘One day there’ll be proper tea and coffee shops with more blends than you could shake a stick at. You’ll love it. We’ll work our way through from espresso to mocha, English breakfast to Rose Pouchong.’
‘Doughnuts?’
‘Cake as good as your mum’s if you’re lucky.’
‘Roll on 2006 in that case!’
‘When the day comes, I’m not letting you anywhere near Krispy Kreme.’
‘Think I’ll be grateful for that. Sounds like the state of my manhood the morning after yet another night before.’
‘Thanks to that enduring image, I’ll never be able to eat a doughnut ever again.’
‘You never eat ‘em in the first place! Forever picking at stuff only fit for rabbits, trying to make me your own personal culinary guinea pig. No wonder you’re so bloody skinny. Not an ounce of muscle on you. Which is why it’s me not you carting these damn great bags of compost heap around.’
‘You insisted on carrying it all, wanted to show off your manly physique you said! And the veg isn’t that bad. Well, yeah, it is actually. One day, Gene, one day there’ll be farmers’ markets...’
‘And what the hell would I want to buy a farmer for when I've got you to plough my arse for me while I scatter my good seed on the...’
‘Shut up! Shut up you idiot! We're in public, remember? Honestly! Anyway, it’s where they go to sell their produce.’
‘Shouldn’t they be busy shagging sheep, not playing at keeping shop? What’s the point of that?’
‘It’s fantastic stuff, amazing quality and variety, better than anything you can get in the supermarket. You know exactly where it’s come from and it’s all fresh and local.’
‘I can get fresh and local down Canal Street if I want it.’
‘You’d better not!’
‘Don’t worry your pretty head, Sammy. Course I don’t. And I won’t. Not ever. Just kidding.’
‘Better be. Right. Tea break over. Back we go to the market that time forgot.’
‘No randy farmers proffering you their sordid wares just yet, Sam.’
‘One day, one day...’
‘I dunno. My mum lives in the past, you live in the future. Not sure where that puts me.’
‘All present and correct, I reckon.’
‘Good to hear you acknowledge that I’m always right.’
‘Didn’t say that.’
‘Did. And I’m also right in thinking that I’ve had enough bloody shopping for one day.’
‘Have you now? And do I get any say in the matter?’
‘No. Home, Sammy, and don’t spare the Genie.’
‘I won’t, love. I won’t. Haven't forgiven you for eating my bit of cake. And I've got plans for that cucumber...’
0o0
AN: Another angsty episode here Rushes and sort of more in the series here in Curiosity. And if you need your memory refreshing as to what happened to that cucumber when they got home, there's always When I grow up I want to be...