Fic: Who's to say?
Title: Who's to say?
Author: Me...lol
Spoilers: It's set 2006 (bet that's intrigued ya) so spoilers for everything basically)
Rating: White Cortina.
Word Count: 932
Pairings: Gene/Sam.
Summary: His eyesight's bad these days but it isn't that bad
A/N: 932 words of what-if fluffy nonsense. No more spammage tonight. Promise.
It's been decades since Sam Tyler first crash landed into Gene Hunt's life.
They've seen fashions change, Prime Ministers fall. Sam'll never forget the look on Gene's face when they announced Maggie Thatcher's tenure.
They've lived through bust ups and make ups. They've fallen in and out of love with scary amounts of people. None so note worthy as themselves.
They've survived 2 failed marriages, several promotions and the hell of a long distance relationship. Friends have come and gone, each leaving their own little bit of wisdom behind. Family will always be family, even if it isn't blood.
They tried to ignore each other. They moved to different cities for Christ's sake. Still they couldn't ignore the connection they'd forged all those years ago.
The days of Manchester CID will be, in Sam's opinion, the best of his life. He met some fantastic characters, made some wonderful life long friends. Even if half those friends only came to like him because of Gene and the grudging respect he bestowed upon him.
Now a days they spend there time in comfy silence, huddled close on the sofa, like a couple of love sick teenagers. Holding hands in the park, walking the dogs. Hopping on and off buses, stewed as newts.
Creating hassle and reeking havoc where ever they decide to roam. Sam loves it and he loves Gene and he's pretty sure Gene loves him. After all these years he best bloody well do.
He doesn't regret that car hitting him just as he doesn't regret throwing himself off the CID building.
They were all steps to where he was going, and where he was going was here, happy and content. God what a sickly bastard he is.
They're old, the pair of them. Far older than they have any business being. All though he'll never let Gene forget the fact he's ten years his Senior. Even if Gene is older, he sure as hell isn't wiser.
It'd taken Sam so many trips to London, so many frantic, pleading phone calls to get Gene to admit he missed him and wanted to come home.
Even after Gene'd transferred 'home' it took another few years before he'd dare hold Sam's hand in public, or grab a quick snog in front of people. Fair enough, that was Gene. Old fashioned. Not so old fashioned he was above shagging Sam into the hood of his Cortina and then later his Quattro.
Still, too old fashioned to do something as daring as walking hand in hand in a public place.
The face Gene'd pulled, the abuse he'd hurled at him when Sam'd taken his hand one day as they were walking along the street and refused to let go. He'd had bruises for weeks after that. It was worth it though.
Now, they don't have to worry, gay couples, even old gay couples, are accepted.
It's 2006, the year it all changed for Sam. He can still remember laying on that road feeling like hammered shit and then waking up in big collars and flared trousers. Petrified he'd lost his mind. Even more terrified that he hadn't.
Gene and Sam are taking their usual Monday afternoon stroll. Sam still loves to watch the wind ruffle Gene's hair, the way the sunlight plays across it, even if it is white and whispy these days.
Sam's leading the way. His feet have taken on a life of their own. He doesn't know why he's wandering this way but he's content to go with it. Having learned a long time ago to trust his instincts.
The squeal of tires and the thunk of a body hitting the tarmac brings them to a halt. Gene's off first, legging it over the intersection, crouching down.
When Sam eventually rolls up, huffing and puffing and pulling out his mobile, Gene looks as though he's seen a ghost. He shifts slightly, allowing Sam to see the man laying prone at his feet.
Sam's head spins. His eyesight's bad these days but it isn't that bad. He know's this man. He is this man. Or at least he was or will be, however it works.
There's a wry smile playing about Sam's lips. He reaches down, tugs on Gene's shirt and motions for him to follow. Gene looks panicked, shell shocked.
"Sammy, this is..it's..bloody 'ell it's you"
Sam dials 999 and reports the accident. Then he grips Gene's arm and hauls him to his feet.
"Tyler, bloody say something you bastard" Gene still hasn't gotten out of the habit of using his surname, even after all this time.
"What do you want me to say Gene? Told you so, I wasn't lying, you called me a fruit loop and you were wrong, what?"
Gene hears the distant sound of sirens and sighs. He'd called Sam all sorts. Now he knows what a prat he'd really been.
"We can't just leave him, you"
"Yes, we can. Come on Gene. Please"
"But why? We could 'elp, stop it, all of it from 'appening. All that bollocks you went through..." All that bollocks I put you through.
Sam reaches up, cups his wrinkled cheek and smiles "Because this, this is where it all begins. For me, for us"
Gene stares transfixed "Really? You wouldn't change it, none of it?"
Sam leans up and kisses him gently, one single tear fighting to free itself from his aged lashes "Not for the world"
Gene and Sam walk away, not looking back. They're back at the beginning and who are they to say when and where that is?