Fic: Truth be told
Title: Truth be told
Author: Me...lol
Spoilers: It's set 1974. So, both seasons.
Rating: Green Cortina.
Word Count: 1,656
irings: Gene/Sam.
Summary: Sam Tyler's wedding day dawns bright and early.
A/N: This is set somewhen in the 'Who's to say' universe. Just like 'Stand and deliver' it's part of events. These are coming to you out of order and when I eventually finish, they'll all be posted chronologically in one post. This made me sniffle and I wrote the bloody thing.
Traditionally, stag do's are loud raucous affairs with copious amounts of booze and several morally ambiguous birds hanging about.
Sam Tyler is anything but traditional, so Gene, being his best man and all, has had to come up with something that suits the pair of them. A compromise, trust them to be able to compromise over birds and booze.
They're sat in Gene's house, his missus is away for the weekend. They've got the place to themselves. They've got a bottle of Gene's finest brandy each. The night's wearing on and the risk of hangovers for groom and best man alike is growing with every glass of burning liquid.
While Sam sits and wonders if he'll be able to hear the Reverend over his banging head in the morning. Gene sits and watches the play of emotions flit over Sam's face, fervently wishing that he could think of something, anything, to talk him out of stumbling down that isle tomorrow.
The problem is, Sam's worked his way under Gene's skin. From the moment he got here, the moment he came shouting and hollering into Gene's life, he's been steadily worming his way into Gene's system.
So much so that when Sam asked Gene to take on the mantle of best man, the simultaneous feelings of pride and pain were so mingled he couldn't tell them apart.
Sam's like a drug. You know you shouldn't, that it'll probably kill you in the end and you'd be far better off not going there, but there's that pull of addiction that's unbreakable. They say if you don't admit you need help then there is no help.
Gene admits it but doesn't want help.
If he can't have Sam in the way he wants then he'll take him any way he can get him. At least this way he gets to keep a watchful eye as Sam makes the biggest mistake of his life.
Gene knows, Sam knows. Sam knows exactly how affected Gene is because he can see the same affects in his DI's eyes. Everytime they fight, everytime they disagree about something, it's there, lurking.
The spark that tells Gene, Sam wants him as much as he wants Sam. Difference is, Sam isn't willing to risk it all for something that could ruin them both.
It's worse when they work together. This so called synchronised policing method they've adopted. They're on the same wavelength and when that happens Gene can feel the pull even more. Dragging at his gut, making his head throb.
The remarks, the looks, the flirty behaviour all serves to drive Gene bloody fuckin' insane.
It isn't fair either. Gene himself is married, has a home and a life. A career that could be flushed straight down the pan if anyone found out he was hankering after his male DI.
He's sure it's not love, pretty sure anyway. Just unresolved lust. Maybe if they got on and shagged he'd be able to move on and go back to being Sam's best mate and worst enemy without the need for sweaty violent sex keep rearing it's ugly head.
As it is Gene thinks he might be forced to pin Sam down and have 'the' talk with him. The one he promised himself he'd never ever have.
They drink, they joke and they sit in companionable silence. Both men lost in their own little worlds. The night wears on and they get steadily more drunk, even knowing they have to be up, pressed and dressed at some ungodly hour.
Eventually Sam slurs that he has to go to bed. Gene stands and offers his hand, helping Tyler off his sofa. The spark Gene feels crack across his palm is a physical thing. Sam can't have failed to notice it. It's a sting in the air, a taste of something forbidden.
Sam's eyes widen and Gene gathers a little back bone. Nothing does it for your sense of bravery quite like two quarts of brandy.
Gripping Sam's hand tighter, Gene pulls him into his body, wrapping his other arm around his shoulders.
Sam's still got the deer in headlights look, doesn't seem to be able to function properly. Another advantage of alcohol addled confusion, low speed reactions.
It allows Gene to snake the hand nestled between them up and over Sam's throat. Tilting Sam's chin, giving him better access, Gene lowers his lips to Sam's jugular and sucks on his pulse point.
It takes Sam a second but he's finally responding, squirming in Gene's grasp. Mewling and moaning at the pressure on his throat.
Gene takes that as a good sign and trails his lips upwards, placing them over Sam's. Sam gasps, opening his mouth, letting Gene slip his tongue inside.
They fight for a while, tongue against tongue, lips and teeth clashing. Eventually they settle into a rhythm they can both live with.
Gene's just about to suggest they take this somewhere more comfortable when Sam stiffens. Gene knows the moment Sam's lust singed brain has made the connection between Gene and the lips currently covering his own.
Sam pushes against Gene's chest and stumbles from his grip, shaking his head. The look in Sam's eyes is enough to make Gene's stomach drop to his toes.
"No, what..Christ, No!"
Gene rakes shaky fingers through mussed hair and settles a look on Sam, willing, desperately willing him to see this for what it is.
"Sam, please..I"
"We can't. Gene, I'm sor...sorry but we can't. I'm getting married in 6 hours"
"Tyler, don't do this....don't make the biggest mis..."
Gene doesn't finish, Sam smacks him square in the jaw. One single punch just to stop him saying the words Sam truly can not hear right now.
"No. End of. We're friends Gene. I...I...but I can't..What about Annie?"
Gene sighs and lets his eyes flutter shut. Attempting to stamp down on the bitterness rising up his throat.
"'Kay, I'm sorry. Shouldn't 'ave...Look lets just go to bed and get your soppy arse married tomorrow, okay?"
Sam looks Gene over once more, the pain of having to make this decision evident on his face. He never was very good at hiding his feelings, this one. Then he turns on his heel and heads upstairs, quietly pulling the living room door shut behind him.
Gene drops into the nearest chair, letting his head fall into his hands. Gritting his teeth he takes a couple of steadying breaths and then follows. Hovering outside the guest bedroom, he contemplates knocking but then dismisses the thought.
Shuffling to his own room, Gene shuts the door and attempts to get some sleep.
*********************
Sam Tyler's wedding day dawns bright and early, birds are singing and the sun is shining and Gene Hunt could do with a shot gun for the noise and a pair of sunnies for the light.
His head is pounding but he's got a clear memory of everything that happened last night. He wonders if Sam remembers anything. Wonders if he'll call him on it. He hopes not. In the harsh light of day, he doesn't think he could handle having to tell Tyler he wants him pretty much more than he's ever wanted anyone.
Thing is, he'd probably end up being so brutally honest that neither one of them would recover from it. So, he hopes Sam has the sense to keep his mouth shut.
They get up, fidget around each other and eventually make it to the church on time.
Gene has to admit, Cartwright looks absolutely gorgeous in her wedding dress and Sam was always meant for a suit. He looks like James Bond. That image makes Gene chuckle. Tyler as Bond..that'd be an interesting movie.
It gets to the part in the ceremony where the Reverend asks if anyone knows any lawful reason why these two should not, blah blah blah.
Sam looks over Annie's shoulder at Gene and there's something in his eyes. Something asking Gene to say or not say anything. Gene isn't sure. It's almost as if Sam is trying to talk to him with his gaze, Gene can hear his voice 'Guv? Come on then, do it' but he can't.
Gene just can't say anything in front of all these people and as the bloke in the dog collar carries on, Gene's stomach flips, a sense of real loss takes hold somewhere deep. He feels like he's lost his chance and it's like a sucker punch to the gut, suddenly he can't breath, can't think, can't stand it.
The rings are requested and as Gene hands Sam's to him, their fingers brush and it feels electric and wrong, wrong to be having these urges right in front of Sam's almost wife, but he can't help it.
Finally the Reverend announces them man and wife. Everyone claps, Sam and Annie kiss and everyone rises to watch them walk down the isle.
Gene can see Annie's mum, sat across from them, she's got tears in her eyes and he can feel himself welling up. Not for the same reasons as Mrs Cartwright but he doesn't correct Chris when he punches him in the shoulder and tells him he's a soppy sod.
As everyone else starts to leave, Gene slumps back down in a pew. Watches as Mr and Mrs Tyler make their way from the church. As he see's the heel of Sam's shoe go over the threshold and disappear, Gene's heart skips a beat.
He's got no sense of time or space, just this acheing, gnawing, ripping feeling in the bottom of his stomach. It's eating away at his insides, making him want to be sick. He can feel the burn of bile rising up his throat.
He clamps down on it and pulls himself together. He's got a speech to make and damn if it isn't gonna be the best, best man's speech anyone's ever heard.
After all, Sam's the best man Gene's ever known.
Author: Me...lol
Spoilers: It's set 1974. So, both seasons.
Rating: Green Cortina.
Word Count: 1,656
irings: Gene/Sam.
Summary: Sam Tyler's wedding day dawns bright and early.
A/N: This is set somewhen in the 'Who's to say' universe. Just like 'Stand and deliver' it's part of events. These are coming to you out of order and when I eventually finish, they'll all be posted chronologically in one post. This made me sniffle and I wrote the bloody thing.
Traditionally, stag do's are loud raucous affairs with copious amounts of booze and several morally ambiguous birds hanging about.
Sam Tyler is anything but traditional, so Gene, being his best man and all, has had to come up with something that suits the pair of them. A compromise, trust them to be able to compromise over birds and booze.
They're sat in Gene's house, his missus is away for the weekend. They've got the place to themselves. They've got a bottle of Gene's finest brandy each. The night's wearing on and the risk of hangovers for groom and best man alike is growing with every glass of burning liquid.
While Sam sits and wonders if he'll be able to hear the Reverend over his banging head in the morning. Gene sits and watches the play of emotions flit over Sam's face, fervently wishing that he could think of something, anything, to talk him out of stumbling down that isle tomorrow.
The problem is, Sam's worked his way under Gene's skin. From the moment he got here, the moment he came shouting and hollering into Gene's life, he's been steadily worming his way into Gene's system.
So much so that when Sam asked Gene to take on the mantle of best man, the simultaneous feelings of pride and pain were so mingled he couldn't tell them apart.
Sam's like a drug. You know you shouldn't, that it'll probably kill you in the end and you'd be far better off not going there, but there's that pull of addiction that's unbreakable. They say if you don't admit you need help then there is no help.
Gene admits it but doesn't want help.
If he can't have Sam in the way he wants then he'll take him any way he can get him. At least this way he gets to keep a watchful eye as Sam makes the biggest mistake of his life.
Gene knows, Sam knows. Sam knows exactly how affected Gene is because he can see the same affects in his DI's eyes. Everytime they fight, everytime they disagree about something, it's there, lurking.
The spark that tells Gene, Sam wants him as much as he wants Sam. Difference is, Sam isn't willing to risk it all for something that could ruin them both.
It's worse when they work together. This so called synchronised policing method they've adopted. They're on the same wavelength and when that happens Gene can feel the pull even more. Dragging at his gut, making his head throb.
The remarks, the looks, the flirty behaviour all serves to drive Gene bloody fuckin' insane.
It isn't fair either. Gene himself is married, has a home and a life. A career that could be flushed straight down the pan if anyone found out he was hankering after his male DI.
He's sure it's not love, pretty sure anyway. Just unresolved lust. Maybe if they got on and shagged he'd be able to move on and go back to being Sam's best mate and worst enemy without the need for sweaty violent sex keep rearing it's ugly head.
As it is Gene thinks he might be forced to pin Sam down and have 'the' talk with him. The one he promised himself he'd never ever have.
They drink, they joke and they sit in companionable silence. Both men lost in their own little worlds. The night wears on and they get steadily more drunk, even knowing they have to be up, pressed and dressed at some ungodly hour.
Eventually Sam slurs that he has to go to bed. Gene stands and offers his hand, helping Tyler off his sofa. The spark Gene feels crack across his palm is a physical thing. Sam can't have failed to notice it. It's a sting in the air, a taste of something forbidden.
Sam's eyes widen and Gene gathers a little back bone. Nothing does it for your sense of bravery quite like two quarts of brandy.
Gripping Sam's hand tighter, Gene pulls him into his body, wrapping his other arm around his shoulders.
Sam's still got the deer in headlights look, doesn't seem to be able to function properly. Another advantage of alcohol addled confusion, low speed reactions.
It allows Gene to snake the hand nestled between them up and over Sam's throat. Tilting Sam's chin, giving him better access, Gene lowers his lips to Sam's jugular and sucks on his pulse point.
It takes Sam a second but he's finally responding, squirming in Gene's grasp. Mewling and moaning at the pressure on his throat.
Gene takes that as a good sign and trails his lips upwards, placing them over Sam's. Sam gasps, opening his mouth, letting Gene slip his tongue inside.
They fight for a while, tongue against tongue, lips and teeth clashing. Eventually they settle into a rhythm they can both live with.
Gene's just about to suggest they take this somewhere more comfortable when Sam stiffens. Gene knows the moment Sam's lust singed brain has made the connection between Gene and the lips currently covering his own.
Sam pushes against Gene's chest and stumbles from his grip, shaking his head. The look in Sam's eyes is enough to make Gene's stomach drop to his toes.
"No, what..Christ, No!"
Gene rakes shaky fingers through mussed hair and settles a look on Sam, willing, desperately willing him to see this for what it is.
"Sam, please..I"
"We can't. Gene, I'm sor...sorry but we can't. I'm getting married in 6 hours"
"Tyler, don't do this....don't make the biggest mis..."
Gene doesn't finish, Sam smacks him square in the jaw. One single punch just to stop him saying the words Sam truly can not hear right now.
"No. End of. We're friends Gene. I...I...but I can't..What about Annie?"
Gene sighs and lets his eyes flutter shut. Attempting to stamp down on the bitterness rising up his throat.
"'Kay, I'm sorry. Shouldn't 'ave...Look lets just go to bed and get your soppy arse married tomorrow, okay?"
Sam looks Gene over once more, the pain of having to make this decision evident on his face. He never was very good at hiding his feelings, this one. Then he turns on his heel and heads upstairs, quietly pulling the living room door shut behind him.
Gene drops into the nearest chair, letting his head fall into his hands. Gritting his teeth he takes a couple of steadying breaths and then follows. Hovering outside the guest bedroom, he contemplates knocking but then dismisses the thought.
Shuffling to his own room, Gene shuts the door and attempts to get some sleep.
*********************
Sam Tyler's wedding day dawns bright and early, birds are singing and the sun is shining and Gene Hunt could do with a shot gun for the noise and a pair of sunnies for the light.
His head is pounding but he's got a clear memory of everything that happened last night. He wonders if Sam remembers anything. Wonders if he'll call him on it. He hopes not. In the harsh light of day, he doesn't think he could handle having to tell Tyler he wants him pretty much more than he's ever wanted anyone.
Thing is, he'd probably end up being so brutally honest that neither one of them would recover from it. So, he hopes Sam has the sense to keep his mouth shut.
They get up, fidget around each other and eventually make it to the church on time.
Gene has to admit, Cartwright looks absolutely gorgeous in her wedding dress and Sam was always meant for a suit. He looks like James Bond. That image makes Gene chuckle. Tyler as Bond..that'd be an interesting movie.
It gets to the part in the ceremony where the Reverend asks if anyone knows any lawful reason why these two should not, blah blah blah.
Sam looks over Annie's shoulder at Gene and there's something in his eyes. Something asking Gene to say or not say anything. Gene isn't sure. It's almost as if Sam is trying to talk to him with his gaze, Gene can hear his voice 'Guv? Come on then, do it' but he can't.
Gene just can't say anything in front of all these people and as the bloke in the dog collar carries on, Gene's stomach flips, a sense of real loss takes hold somewhere deep. He feels like he's lost his chance and it's like a sucker punch to the gut, suddenly he can't breath, can't think, can't stand it.
The rings are requested and as Gene hands Sam's to him, their fingers brush and it feels electric and wrong, wrong to be having these urges right in front of Sam's almost wife, but he can't help it.
Finally the Reverend announces them man and wife. Everyone claps, Sam and Annie kiss and everyone rises to watch them walk down the isle.
Gene can see Annie's mum, sat across from them, she's got tears in her eyes and he can feel himself welling up. Not for the same reasons as Mrs Cartwright but he doesn't correct Chris when he punches him in the shoulder and tells him he's a soppy sod.
As everyone else starts to leave, Gene slumps back down in a pew. Watches as Mr and Mrs Tyler make their way from the church. As he see's the heel of Sam's shoe go over the threshold and disappear, Gene's heart skips a beat.
He's got no sense of time or space, just this acheing, gnawing, ripping feeling in the bottom of his stomach. It's eating away at his insides, making him want to be sick. He can feel the burn of bile rising up his throat.
He clamps down on it and pulls himself together. He's got a speech to make and damn if it isn't gonna be the best, best man's speech anyone's ever heard.
After all, Sam's the best man Gene's ever known.