"Rule Britannia is out of bounds to my mother, my dog, and clowns..."
Title: A Godawful Small Affair
Fandom: Life On Mars
Pairing: Gene/Annie
Challenge/Prompt: 30randomkisses, 022. Silver
Rating: NC-17 (just in case)
Genre: Het
Summary: Or maybe it’s none of that emotional shit and it’s just Cartwright’s tits in that floral shirt.
Author’s Notes: Cuz I ship these two to pieces. I don’t think that this is the start of a stream of LOM fics, though, since much as I like this show I can’t write for it that well (yet. This is part of my learning curve). I got drag_queen90 to read through the first draft and she said, though it’s not bad, it doesn’t have a LOM feel to it. I’ve heavily edited it since, including taking it out of 2nd person (that probably didn’t help) but constructive criticism is gratefully received because I’d love to be able to write for this fandom.
The missus is glaring at him more and more and doesn’t seem to get that he has to spend so much time at work. That he carries all those problems home with him and there’s nothing he can bloody do about it.
Or maybe it’s none of that emotional shit and it’s just Cartwright’s tits in that floral shirt. Maybe that’s why, halfway through the evening when he’s drunk too much and had to pretend that he was a bloody United supporter, of all things, and Tyler’s poncing about acting like he has half an idea what he’s doing and frustratingly convinced that he’s right, Gene pushes Cartwright against the back wall next to the kitchen, mouth meeting hers and a hand reaching into the low neckline of that top. Her breast is warm and heavy in his hand and he can feel her heartbeat racing desperately fast.
“Fuck,” she mumbles, and then another word pours out, something that’s a cross between Gene and Guv and something new entirely. Her eyes are wide and blue and she’s wearing too much mascara, and fuck, if he didn’t have so much to do tonight (he needs to prove a point, for one thing), Gene could have her right here. And she’d want it. God, she’d want it.
“I should-” she begins helplessly. But she doesn’t move, and it’s up to him to let go of her, tweak the neckline of her dress so she isn’t revealing so much of her bra, and grit his teeth hard as he walks back into the bar, the shouting and heat and unbelievable stench of beer. Tyler’s looking at him with a and where the hell have you been sort of look, but Gene isn’t answerable to him, he’s Tyler’s boss, so he simply glares back and turn to take more orders. Get through this, make a point, kick Tyler’s sorry little arse back down from that cloud of elevated smugness he’s floating on.
And as long as he doesn’t look at her, he might just be all right.
+
When there aren’t any cases, the others push off home as early as they possibly can. Tyler generally hangs about, shifting bits of paper in an attempt to look professional or something that sadly fails, before drifting off in a preoccupied sort of way. A lot of the time Gene wonders if he was a crackhead or something in Hyde; it would explain a lot. Maybe he should ask Tyler about that, in a loud tone of voice and a public place.
Cartwright’s shoes click too loudly on the floor of the empty office, and Gene wants to tell her to take them off because she’s drawing unnecessary amounts of attention to this stupid little situation. He doesn’t believe in stupid little situations; he’s Gene Hunt and as far as he’s concerned that’s what DIs and plonks were made for. Looking up from the whisky on his desk, to see Cartwright in that ridiculous WPC outfit that still makes her look like she’s dressing up and playing at it, though, he realises that maybe Cartwright’s quite happy making her own stupid little situation all by herself.
Gene always said there was no place for women in the police force. Did anyone listen to him? Considering how he’s supposed to be in charge here, it’s bloody stupid how little people pay attention to him. They’re too busy staring at Tyler with his Messiah complex and no one seems to care that he’s out of his sodding mind most of the time (twitching, muttering- they’ve sent Gene one that’s dangerously crazy and no mistake). Even Cartwright was making eyes at him this afternoon.
Every flat surface in this place is covered in piles of papers, files, rubbish, fag ends, page three girls in all their glory. Gene decides on Tyler’s desk, like he normally does, because it’s pretty easy to dump the files on the floor and put them back in some semblance of order. Cartwright looks at the desk and then at Gene and then can’t meet his eyes at all and drops her attention to the buttons on her blouse.
He isn’t jealous, he’s proving a point, and Cartwright’s lips are open in a semblance of a silent scream and he hisses into her ear:
“Tyler wouldn’t fuck you like this, would he?”
And the words aren’t supposed to come out because fuck knows what she could read into that (she did psychology at university and the whole point of them, as far as Gene can tell, is to twist words around until they mean something entirely different that all boils down to men wanting to shag their mothers - filthy minds those psychologists) but she seems a bit too busy to think straight.
“No, guv,” she breathes, trembling, fist clenching in the back of his shirt.
So maybe he’s got away with it after all.
+
The locker room’s a bad idea too, even if there’s no one around to see them. This whole thing’s a bad idea.
She’s wet, oh shit, so fucking wet for him and her back arches, mouth dropping open, desperately tight around his cock.
“God, sir,” she breathes and for one dizzying and bloody stupid moment he could come just from that, from the breathless way she gasps ‘sir’. That’s a thought to almost stop Gene in his tracks - he’s a married man (although the way things are going he might not be for much longer), and it’s just because Cartwright’s there, all tits and legs and eyes. She’s there and she’s easy and that’s really all that matters.
He fucks her hard into the lockers, so hard that the metallic sounds they make as they rock and threaten to fall over must carry far too far, and she’s going to have bruises on her back tomorrow but the messy and almost desperate way she’s kissing him shows she really doesn’t give a damn.
+
She smiles at him. Tyler’s demanding files in a twitchy fashion and he wants them bloody yesterday and doesn’t seem to understand that he’s going to have wait several hours so he might as well stop shouting and sit down. And Cartwright bloody smiles at Gene. It’s brief and quick but she’s supposed to be smart, for God’s sake. Tyler always claims she is and surely she’s got to realise how stupid doing something like smiling in this room is.
These men, half of them wouldn’t be able to find evidence if it sat there on the street with a big red sign pointing at it saying “HERE IS SOME EVIDENCE, YOU PONCES” and they’re blindingly stupid for a large part of the time, but they can pick up on anything related to sex lightning quick. Quicker. Cartwright slips up with the tiniest of smiles and Ray sees. A smirk curls over his own face and he’s about to open his mouth when Gene shoots him a look that says, in no uncertain terms, that if he says whatever he’s thinking about saying, he’ll be hunting for his knackers afterwards.
Ray shuts his mouth and Cartwright stops off at Tyler’s desk to flirt with him and the moment passes.
+
So Gene tells her what he has to tell her. It’s simple. This can’t go on and he can stop any time he likes and he doesn’t know what Cartwright thought she was getting out of it and he doesn’t care because other people are not his problem. It was good sex, reasonable sex, she’s got the best tits in Manchester as far as Gene’s concerned, but they’re going to stop this all now before it gets even more stupid.
He tells her that she’s a slut. He tells her she’s a crap shag. He tells her that fucking the boss won’t get her ahead. He tells her that he only touched her because he was drunk. He tells her that if she tells anyone, he’ll make sure her career ends right here, right now. He tells her she wasn’t worth his time. He tells her too many things that he spent the afternoon carefully working out in his head so he wouldn’t forget a single one. He tells her things that, if Tyler heard them, he’d have Gene down on the floor in a second and would be pounding his face in. And he’d probably deserve it.
Cartwright’s face is the perfect picture of misery, biting her lips together too hard. Devastated isn’t a good look on her and Gene realises that the only reason she isn’t crying is because she won’t give him the satisfaction. Ugly words spat out in an even uglier tone and Cartwright can’t handle them. Not when it sounds so very, very much like he means every single syllable.
When he finally stops talking, when he’s called her everything he can and told her every lie he could think of, she nods, once, decisively, and finds her voice.
“Yes, Guv,” she whispers, “It won’t happen again.”
Like he’s just told her off for getting in the way of an investigation or something. Cartwright blinks and Gene can see the first tears forming.
“Go,” he tells her simply, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture because he doesn’t want to watch and he doesn’t want to hear. Stupid little complicated mistakes. She turns to go, walking out with measured dignity even though her shoulders are trembling, and Gene knows that she’s taken care of. Annie won’t be a problem any more.
He waits a few minutes, then turns all the lights out and goes home.
Fandom: Life On Mars
Pairing: Gene/Annie
Challenge/Prompt: 30randomkisses, 022. Silver
Rating: NC-17 (just in case)
Genre: Het
Summary: Or maybe it’s none of that emotional shit and it’s just Cartwright’s tits in that floral shirt.
Author’s Notes: Cuz I ship these two to pieces. I don’t think that this is the start of a stream of LOM fics, though, since much as I like this show I can’t write for it that well (yet. This is part of my learning curve). I got drag_queen90 to read through the first draft and she said, though it’s not bad, it doesn’t have a LOM feel to it. I’ve heavily edited it since, including taking it out of 2nd person (that probably didn’t help) but constructive criticism is gratefully received because I’d love to be able to write for this fandom.
The missus is glaring at him more and more and doesn’t seem to get that he has to spend so much time at work. That he carries all those problems home with him and there’s nothing he can bloody do about it.
Or maybe it’s none of that emotional shit and it’s just Cartwright’s tits in that floral shirt. Maybe that’s why, halfway through the evening when he’s drunk too much and had to pretend that he was a bloody United supporter, of all things, and Tyler’s poncing about acting like he has half an idea what he’s doing and frustratingly convinced that he’s right, Gene pushes Cartwright against the back wall next to the kitchen, mouth meeting hers and a hand reaching into the low neckline of that top. Her breast is warm and heavy in his hand and he can feel her heartbeat racing desperately fast.
“Fuck,” she mumbles, and then another word pours out, something that’s a cross between Gene and Guv and something new entirely. Her eyes are wide and blue and she’s wearing too much mascara, and fuck, if he didn’t have so much to do tonight (he needs to prove a point, for one thing), Gene could have her right here. And she’d want it. God, she’d want it.
“I should-” she begins helplessly. But she doesn’t move, and it’s up to him to let go of her, tweak the neckline of her dress so she isn’t revealing so much of her bra, and grit his teeth hard as he walks back into the bar, the shouting and heat and unbelievable stench of beer. Tyler’s looking at him with a and where the hell have you been sort of look, but Gene isn’t answerable to him, he’s Tyler’s boss, so he simply glares back and turn to take more orders. Get through this, make a point, kick Tyler’s sorry little arse back down from that cloud of elevated smugness he’s floating on.
And as long as he doesn’t look at her, he might just be all right.
+
When there aren’t any cases, the others push off home as early as they possibly can. Tyler generally hangs about, shifting bits of paper in an attempt to look professional or something that sadly fails, before drifting off in a preoccupied sort of way. A lot of the time Gene wonders if he was a crackhead or something in Hyde; it would explain a lot. Maybe he should ask Tyler about that, in a loud tone of voice and a public place.
Cartwright’s shoes click too loudly on the floor of the empty office, and Gene wants to tell her to take them off because she’s drawing unnecessary amounts of attention to this stupid little situation. He doesn’t believe in stupid little situations; he’s Gene Hunt and as far as he’s concerned that’s what DIs and plonks were made for. Looking up from the whisky on his desk, to see Cartwright in that ridiculous WPC outfit that still makes her look like she’s dressing up and playing at it, though, he realises that maybe Cartwright’s quite happy making her own stupid little situation all by herself.
Gene always said there was no place for women in the police force. Did anyone listen to him? Considering how he’s supposed to be in charge here, it’s bloody stupid how little people pay attention to him. They’re too busy staring at Tyler with his Messiah complex and no one seems to care that he’s out of his sodding mind most of the time (twitching, muttering- they’ve sent Gene one that’s dangerously crazy and no mistake). Even Cartwright was making eyes at him this afternoon.
Every flat surface in this place is covered in piles of papers, files, rubbish, fag ends, page three girls in all their glory. Gene decides on Tyler’s desk, like he normally does, because it’s pretty easy to dump the files on the floor and put them back in some semblance of order. Cartwright looks at the desk and then at Gene and then can’t meet his eyes at all and drops her attention to the buttons on her blouse.
He isn’t jealous, he’s proving a point, and Cartwright’s lips are open in a semblance of a silent scream and he hisses into her ear:
“Tyler wouldn’t fuck you like this, would he?”
And the words aren’t supposed to come out because fuck knows what she could read into that (she did psychology at university and the whole point of them, as far as Gene can tell, is to twist words around until they mean something entirely different that all boils down to men wanting to shag their mothers - filthy minds those psychologists) but she seems a bit too busy to think straight.
“No, guv,” she breathes, trembling, fist clenching in the back of his shirt.
So maybe he’s got away with it after all.
+
The locker room’s a bad idea too, even if there’s no one around to see them. This whole thing’s a bad idea.
She’s wet, oh shit, so fucking wet for him and her back arches, mouth dropping open, desperately tight around his cock.
“God, sir,” she breathes and for one dizzying and bloody stupid moment he could come just from that, from the breathless way she gasps ‘sir’. That’s a thought to almost stop Gene in his tracks - he’s a married man (although the way things are going he might not be for much longer), and it’s just because Cartwright’s there, all tits and legs and eyes. She’s there and she’s easy and that’s really all that matters.
He fucks her hard into the lockers, so hard that the metallic sounds they make as they rock and threaten to fall over must carry far too far, and she’s going to have bruises on her back tomorrow but the messy and almost desperate way she’s kissing him shows she really doesn’t give a damn.
+
She smiles at him. Tyler’s demanding files in a twitchy fashion and he wants them bloody yesterday and doesn’t seem to understand that he’s going to have wait several hours so he might as well stop shouting and sit down. And Cartwright bloody smiles at Gene. It’s brief and quick but she’s supposed to be smart, for God’s sake. Tyler always claims she is and surely she’s got to realise how stupid doing something like smiling in this room is.
These men, half of them wouldn’t be able to find evidence if it sat there on the street with a big red sign pointing at it saying “HERE IS SOME EVIDENCE, YOU PONCES” and they’re blindingly stupid for a large part of the time, but they can pick up on anything related to sex lightning quick. Quicker. Cartwright slips up with the tiniest of smiles and Ray sees. A smirk curls over his own face and he’s about to open his mouth when Gene shoots him a look that says, in no uncertain terms, that if he says whatever he’s thinking about saying, he’ll be hunting for his knackers afterwards.
Ray shuts his mouth and Cartwright stops off at Tyler’s desk to flirt with him and the moment passes.
+
So Gene tells her what he has to tell her. It’s simple. This can’t go on and he can stop any time he likes and he doesn’t know what Cartwright thought she was getting out of it and he doesn’t care because other people are not his problem. It was good sex, reasonable sex, she’s got the best tits in Manchester as far as Gene’s concerned, but they’re going to stop this all now before it gets even more stupid.
He tells her that she’s a slut. He tells her she’s a crap shag. He tells her that fucking the boss won’t get her ahead. He tells her that he only touched her because he was drunk. He tells her that if she tells anyone, he’ll make sure her career ends right here, right now. He tells her she wasn’t worth his time. He tells her too many things that he spent the afternoon carefully working out in his head so he wouldn’t forget a single one. He tells her things that, if Tyler heard them, he’d have Gene down on the floor in a second and would be pounding his face in. And he’d probably deserve it.
Cartwright’s face is the perfect picture of misery, biting her lips together too hard. Devastated isn’t a good look on her and Gene realises that the only reason she isn’t crying is because she won’t give him the satisfaction. Ugly words spat out in an even uglier tone and Cartwright can’t handle them. Not when it sounds so very, very much like he means every single syllable.
When he finally stops talking, when he’s called her everything he can and told her every lie he could think of, she nods, once, decisively, and finds her voice.
“Yes, Guv,” she whispers, “It won’t happen again.”
Like he’s just told her off for getting in the way of an investigation or something. Cartwright blinks and Gene can see the first tears forming.
“Go,” he tells her simply, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture because he doesn’t want to watch and he doesn’t want to hear. Stupid little complicated mistakes. She turns to go, walking out with measured dignity even though her shoulders are trembling, and Gene knows that she’s taken care of. Annie won’t be a problem any more.
He waits a few minutes, then turns all the lights out and goes home.