Fanfic_Whore, Manoeuvring for Position, White Cortina
Title: Manoeuvring for Position
Author: Fanfic_whore
Pairing: Sam/Gene
Rating: White Cortina
Word Count: 630
Summary: Gene decides do a little unsettling of his own…
A/N: Following a hint from I_am_The_Crime this is a very loose sort of sequel to the below. I will warn you that this will now become a series of three short, loosely connected vignettes. Only I’m too tired to write number three now.
You are further warned that it was knocked off in the last half an hour and is somewhat crackish. However, do please also enjoy.
Manoeuvring for Position
“Do this up will you?” Sam asked Gene as he held out his arm, waving the unbuttoned sleeve in the direction of his DCI.
Gene, feet kicked up on the desk, regarded him suspiciously and took a long drag of his cigarette.
“You’re a big boy, dress yourself,” he concluded after a moment.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Oh come on!” Sam insisted as he stepped toward the desk and thrust his writs toward Gene’s face.
Gene wrinkled his nose and turned his face away.
“Remind me why you’re not in the locker-room with everyone else?” Gene queried.
Sam sighed and dropped his arm to the desk, trapping the cuff beneath his wrist and tried valiantly to slip the button through the hole.
“Cos there wasn’t enough room,” he muttered sulkily.
Gene snorted disbelievingly.
Sam tried the button again and sighed in frustration as it refused to bend to his will.
“Just do the sodding thing up will you?” he demanded, pushing his arm back toward Gene who merely glared at him and raised an eyebrow.
“It’s that or I take the shirt off, do the button up and then put it back on,” Sam threatened.
Gene sighed, sat up in his chair and stubbed out his cigarette, reaching for Sam’s sleeve. “You always this good at dressing yourself?” he demanded, “it’s almost a miracle you can tie your shoelaces and don’t turn up in odd socks.”
“See wasn’t so hard was it?” Sam muttered as Gene slipped the button into place and hurriedly pushed Sam’s hand away. Walking around the desk he moved to stand next to Gene and snagging the small upright mirror, fastened his bow-tie with practiced ease. Then, donning his jacket he held out his arms and raised his eyebrows in question.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“Oh delectable,” Gene agreed sarcastically, “now why don’t you run along and find the rest of your penguin squad. Those dodgy waiters wont arrest themselves.”
What ever response was on Sam’s lips died as the door to the office swung open and a similarly attired Ray and Chris came into view.
For a moment all four men regarded each other in silence.
“Shouldn’t you be in one of those other uniforms boss?” Ray asked, cocking his head to one side and regarding Sam with a puzzled air.
“One of what uniforms?” Sam demanded.
“One of them with skirts and those frilly pinnies,” Ray suggested with a grin.
Sam glared at him, a sarcastic smile gracing his lips whilst from beside him Gene let out a short, barking laugh.
“Don’t encourage him,” Gene said, “for all we know Tyler here might like the way his arse looks in a skirt.”
“Bloody fairy probably does,” Ray agreed as he turned away and lumbered back the way he had come, Chris following after him.
“Do you have to encourage them?” Sam demanded with something akin to resignation gracing his voice.
“And yet you make it so easy,” Gene pointed out, his tone light and observational.
For the second time that night Sam’s words died on his lips and he jumped as a hand connected with his arse, fingers lingering, kneading the flesh for just a fraction of a second.
“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Sam demanded as he craned his neck and glared down at the offending hand.
“Copping a feel, I believe it’s called,” Gene retorted with heavy sarcasm. “Seeing as I’m unlikely to ever see your arse in such a get-up thought I’d best have me fill of this one. Now go on, piss off out me office and catch me some villains,” he continued, drawing his hand away and delivering a light slap.
And, too shocked to argue, Sam followed the force of the moment and obeyed.
and here is numero tres, Out Manoeuvred.
Author: Fanfic_whore
Pairing: Sam/Gene
Rating: White Cortina
Word Count: 630
Summary: Gene decides do a little unsettling of his own…
A/N: Following a hint from I_am_The_Crime this is a very loose sort of sequel to the below. I will warn you that this will now become a series of three short, loosely connected vignettes. Only I’m too tired to write number three now.
You are further warned that it was knocked off in the last half an hour and is somewhat crackish. However, do please also enjoy.
Manoeuvring for Position
“Do this up will you?” Sam asked Gene as he held out his arm, waving the unbuttoned sleeve in the direction of his DCI.
Gene, feet kicked up on the desk, regarded him suspiciously and took a long drag of his cigarette.
“You’re a big boy, dress yourself,” he concluded after a moment.
Sam rolled his eyes. “Oh come on!” Sam insisted as he stepped toward the desk and thrust his writs toward Gene’s face.
Gene wrinkled his nose and turned his face away.
“Remind me why you’re not in the locker-room with everyone else?” Gene queried.
Sam sighed and dropped his arm to the desk, trapping the cuff beneath his wrist and tried valiantly to slip the button through the hole.
“Cos there wasn’t enough room,” he muttered sulkily.
Gene snorted disbelievingly.
Sam tried the button again and sighed in frustration as it refused to bend to his will.
“Just do the sodding thing up will you?” he demanded, pushing his arm back toward Gene who merely glared at him and raised an eyebrow.
“It’s that or I take the shirt off, do the button up and then put it back on,” Sam threatened.
Gene sighed, sat up in his chair and stubbed out his cigarette, reaching for Sam’s sleeve. “You always this good at dressing yourself?” he demanded, “it’s almost a miracle you can tie your shoelaces and don’t turn up in odd socks.”
“See wasn’t so hard was it?” Sam muttered as Gene slipped the button into place and hurriedly pushed Sam’s hand away. Walking around the desk he moved to stand next to Gene and snagging the small upright mirror, fastened his bow-tie with practiced ease. Then, donning his jacket he held out his arms and raised his eyebrows in question.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“Oh delectable,” Gene agreed sarcastically, “now why don’t you run along and find the rest of your penguin squad. Those dodgy waiters wont arrest themselves.”
What ever response was on Sam’s lips died as the door to the office swung open and a similarly attired Ray and Chris came into view.
For a moment all four men regarded each other in silence.
“Shouldn’t you be in one of those other uniforms boss?” Ray asked, cocking his head to one side and regarding Sam with a puzzled air.
“One of what uniforms?” Sam demanded.
“One of them with skirts and those frilly pinnies,” Ray suggested with a grin.
Sam glared at him, a sarcastic smile gracing his lips whilst from beside him Gene let out a short, barking laugh.
“Don’t encourage him,” Gene said, “for all we know Tyler here might like the way his arse looks in a skirt.”
“Bloody fairy probably does,” Ray agreed as he turned away and lumbered back the way he had come, Chris following after him.
“Do you have to encourage them?” Sam demanded with something akin to resignation gracing his voice.
“And yet you make it so easy,” Gene pointed out, his tone light and observational.
For the second time that night Sam’s words died on his lips and he jumped as a hand connected with his arse, fingers lingering, kneading the flesh for just a fraction of a second.
“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Sam demanded as he craned his neck and glared down at the offending hand.
“Copping a feel, I believe it’s called,” Gene retorted with heavy sarcasm. “Seeing as I’m unlikely to ever see your arse in such a get-up thought I’d best have me fill of this one. Now go on, piss off out me office and catch me some villains,” he continued, drawing his hand away and delivering a light slap.
And, too shocked to argue, Sam followed the force of the moment and obeyed.
and here is numero tres, Out Manoeuvred.