Advent Calendar Day Eighteen
Title: No Forwarding Address
Pairing: Sam/Gene
Rating: PG/Green Cortina
Word Count: 1450
Notes: I'm just trying the LoM fandom on for size, this is unbeta'd, so I have to claim all the mistakes. *grumble grumble*
Summary: Christmas Eve in CID, and Gene's got a present for Sam.
A HUGE thank you to the fabulous philipcracker
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"Tyler!" The irritated voice booming from the Guv's office was loud enough that everyone sitting at their desks jumped a little. "Get your arse in here!" The DCI shoved his door open impatiently and jerked a thumb backwards towards his office.
With an exaggerated sigh, Sam closed the case file he'd been reading and got up. Annie looked at him sympathetically, while Ray laughed outright, chewing and cracking his gum.
"Something funny?" The DCI glared at Ray with a menacing 'you can be next' expression on his face.
"Nothing, Guv." Ray quickly wiped the smile from his face and shuffled some papers on his desk, trying to look busy.
"Didn't think so. Since everyone's working so hard," he put a sarcastic edge on the last word,"you may as well get out of here now." Gene checked his watch. "Beer-thirty. Get down to the pub and I expect to see drinks waiting for me from all my little elves." He took a drag on his cigarette and pointed at Chris. "And turn that bastard radio off. I hear any more Christmas music and I'm going to shove candy canes up someone's arse!"
Gene loosened his tie, then turned his attention back to Sam. "You. Inside." He turned and stomped back into his office, settling heavily into his chair. "Give it a minute." Gene waited for the sound of the last person to leave the outer office, then propped his feet up on the desk and toasted him with a glass of scotch. "Merry Christmas, Dorothy. Didn't want to do this in front of everyone else." He tossed a small, clumsily wrapped package onto the desk.
Sam tried to hide his surprise at Gene producing a gift for him. It wasn't like the Guv to do anything that could be mistaken as even remotely sentimental. More often than not, getting called into his DCI's office at the end of the day would find Sam down on his knees doing all the giving. "A present? Really?" He looked at it and couldn't hold back a smile.
"Don't go all poofy on me." The older man ground out a cigarette and crossed his arms over his chest, looking uncomfortable. "And not a word to anyone. I can't have everyone else saying I'm playing favorites with you."
"No, we wouldn't want anyone thinking you do anything but bounce me off the walls, would we?" Sam replied dryly. "If you ever spoke to me in less than a roar, they'd say you were going soft."
"You like it when I bounce you off the walls." Gene said smugly as he poured another glass of scotch and handed it over to the younger man. "And you know better than anyone that the Gene Genie doesn't ever go soft before the job's done."
"Fishing for a compliment, Guv?" Sam grinned as he picked up the gift and slouched against the edge of the desk. "Or you need me to stroke your ego?" He let his eyes drift down to Gene's crotch pointedly.
"Just a statement of fact, Sammy m'boy." He slanted a blatantly sexual leer at the other man over the rim of his glass. "I'll be expecting lots of stroking later. It's Christmas Eve. We're going to drink until Chris throws up and sees tiny reindeer dancing across his forehead." He nodded at the package. "Open that, pub's waiting."
Sam returned his attention to the small box and fumbled with the cellophane tape that liberally covered it. Finally he got it free, peeled away the crumpled paper (it appeared to be the wrapper from a sandwich), and looked at the box with a deadpan expression. "Paper clips? Guv, you shouldn't have."
"Open it, you Nonce." Gene growled, leaning forward and dropping his feet to the floor with a thud. "We don't all have girly boxes and bows littering the place."
"Kidding!" Sam smiled at the other man. "I'm touched that you thought of me, really I am." Slipping his thumb under the top of the box, he flipped it open to reveal a key. "What's this for?"
There was a long moment of silence. "That's the key to my front door, Tyler." The Guv's voice was rough and he crossed his arms over his chest defensively. "Thought you might like it, Christ knows that flat of yours ought to be condemned. I'm just rattling around my house alone since the Missus up and left..." He let the sentence trail off awkwardly.
Sam held the key in his hand, not sure what to say. When he did reply, his tone was cautious. "So you want me to just use the key when I visit or..." He stopped, unsure of how to continue.
"Of course you can." Gene answered as he busied himself pouring another drink. "Come any time you want. Maybe you'd want to bring your clothes too." He avoided Sam's eyes and lit another cigarette."I know you'll want to cook that nancy food you like to eat, you can even bring your pots and pans." He looked towards Sam, but didn't quite meet his eyes. "You understand though, the deal is that you cook me a fried breakfast now and again."
"So you want me to keep my clothes and cookware at your house for when I visit? What am I supposed to do when I'm home?" Sam tried to make sense of what Gene was saying. He knew what he hoped he was hearing, but he couldn't quite believe it.
"I suppose if you bring your stuff over I guess you'd just have to visit pretty often." Gene found the amber liquid inside his glass to be terribly interesting at that moment. "Maybe even stay a while. See how it works out."
Sam flipped the key over in his palm and folded his arms across his chest, trying to hide the grin threatening to spread across his face. "So can I bring my records and books, or should I leave them in my flat?"
"Well, if you have the rest of your stuff at my house and you're going to stay awhile, it seems silly to keep a flat just to hold records and books, but you do what you want." Gene grunted, looking everywhere but at him as he tossed back his drink.
"Guv, I'm not sure exactly what you're saying to me." Sam couldn't help but push to see if he could get him to ask the question he wanted to hear.
Gene gave him an irritated look, took another long drink, and set the glass down hard on the desk. "Some fucking detective you are, Sam. How in the hell did you ever make DI?"
Sam put his hand on top of Gene's when he tried to pick up his glass again. "Are you giving me this key to ask me to move in with you?" He asked bluntly.
"Might be." The older man's voice was stiff and uncomfortable. "What would you say if I was?"
"If you were asking, I might say yes." Sam slid over so he was seated on the desk in front of him, his legs pressed between Gene's thighs.
"So maybe I'm asking." Gene raised his chin and glared at him. "Don't get all girly on me Gladys, just give me an answer!"
Sam leaned over to press his mouth over Gene's, kissing him firmly. "Guess I'm moving in with you."
"Good." Gene threw back the rest of his scotch and stood up. "Won't take you long to get your stuff together, will it?"
"I don't imagine it will, no." Sam replied, glad he hadn't bothered to accumulate much in the way of personal items since his arrival.
"Then go pack up, you can throw your stuff in the car and be done with it tonight." Gene grabbed his coat off the rack and shoved his arms through the sleeves.
"Tonight?" Sam repeated,surprised at the speed things were moving. "Are you sure?"
"Unless you're worried that there's not enough time for Santa to get your forwarding address?" Gene snorted. "You afraid he won't fill your stocking?"
Sam looked at the key in his hand, then back up at Gene, a wide smile lighting up his face. "There's nothing I want more than this."
"Course not." Any uncertainty Gene had shown earlier evaporated, and he was once again the cocky Manc Lion. "Just call me Father Christmas and get your arse moving." He gave Sam's bum a stinging slap before turning to leave the office. "And I'll be expecting you to show me just how grateful you are later on."
"You can count on it." Sam laughed. "Oh, and Guv?"
"What?"
"I don't suppose you've got a red suit you could wear, do you?"
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