Oh, The Places You'll Go

Four Times Gene Hit Sam and One Time He Didn't

Notes: Written when I was blocked from a prompt by lamentables. So much fun to write in Mancunian at last. Yay, hometown!


1. They'd closed the case. They'd closed the sodding case. And there he was again, wittering away about procedure, Guv and chain of evidence, Guv and using those damn big words that made Gene feel like his head was on backwards and upside down. In the end he'd said yes, yes, yes, whatever you want, Tyler, if it'll shut you up for thirty seconds and give me a chance to clear me head with a half-bottle of Scotch.

The conniving little bastard walked, didn't he? A technicality introduced by Tyler's sodding procedure. Gene had to watch him walking down the corridor, smug smile plastered across his face. Released back into the community where he was going to ruin another little girl's life. Scum.

"Don't you worry," Gene yelled, "I'll have you back here soon enough. And if I can't, there's always me Stanley knife, isn't there?" He took a tiny bit of comfort from the wince that crossed the nonce's face.

He took a great deal more comfort from swinging round and lamping Tyler one in the face. Credit to the lad, he took it. Didn't fight back, not this time.

"Sorry, Gene," he said instead.

"I know. Procedure," spat Gene and stalked off to find his Scotch.

2. To Gene there was no such thing as an innocent question. If he thought about it, which he usually didn't, he wasn't so sure there was any such thing as innocent. So when Sam asked why he'd never had kids he assumed that aspersions were being cast on his manhood. It wasn't so much punching Sam in the stomach as reasserting his authority. He hit rather harder than he'd meant and right in the solar plexus and Sam had gasped and then chucked up on Gene's new shoes.

Gene was sure that a lesson had been learnt there, but he wasn't sure by whom.

3. Give the girl her due, she did her best to keep quiet, but she couldn't help the sniffle that escaped her when Gene came into the locker room to look for Sam. He found her hiding behind some coats.

"What's he done now?"

"Nothing," Annie looked up at him, red-eyed. "It's just a bad day. That's all."

Gene narrowed his eyes. His lips twitched. Something was fishy here, and it wasn't the salmon paste sandwich he'd had for lunch.

"It was him, wasn't it? What did he do? You're not up the duff, are you?"

Annie's eyes widened, horrified.

"No! Honest, Guv, it's nothing."

"Don't believe you," he said and strode out of the locker room, camel hair coat swirling in his wake. Sam was walking towards him. Gene did not break stride after his fist landed in Sam's groin.

"Treat her better or don't treat her at all," he growled, looking back over his shoulder at Sam, who was on his knees, swearing and clutching his balls. "Make up your mind, Tyler." He swung into CID and into his office. Picking up a file he noticed his hand was trembling.

Now what was that about?

4. "Frannie Lee does not dive." Gene took a large gulp of beer and slammed the glass down on the counter. He gave Sam his best evil eye.

"With all due respect, Guv, Frannie Lee dives more than the whole of Wenger's Arsenal put together." It didn't seem like the evil eye was working.

"Who the hell is Wenger?"

"Doesn't matter. All I'm saying is that your beloved Frances Lee either has an inner ear imbalance or he can never remember to put the right studs in or, and this is my personal favourite, he's a diving bastard who would rather cheat than spend some time away from the pub and at the practice ground."

"You can't have an either and two ors, Gladys. It's grammatically incorrect." At Sam's incredulous stare Gene added, "You're not the only bastard who went to school." His face took on a dreamy expression. "Miss Lively, best grammar teacher a boy could ever want." Gene's expression hardened again as he remembered the point.

"Frances Lee is one of the greatest players in English football today, probably the world. You just hate him because United are playing like shit and we're not."

"Lee Won Pen, Gene. Lee Won Pen."

"Shut it, Tyler. Quoting hack journalists never endeared anyone to me."

"Diver."

"Tyler."

Sam grinned.

"Diver."

"I'm warning you."

"Diver." Sam cocked his head to one side, watching Gene's reaction.

"Right, that's it." Gene swung his right fist towards Sam's face, but he was drunk and it was half-hearted and landed with a dull thwack in Sam's hand. Sam was still smiling. Gene thought of cricket. And for some reason, sunshine.

5. There was yelling. Lots of yelling. Gene thought that probably most of it was coming from him. Tyler had been particularly trying that day with his insistence that he needed to go home. What was so special about Hyde anyway? And it was just the other side of Manchester, for god's sake, over by Stockport. Sam had a car, he could just go there if it was so amazing. But Sam had to make everything so complicated. Nothing was ever easy with him. Drove Gene bananas.

So there was yelling and he had Sam by the lapels of that leather coat that seemed to be surgically attached to his body, and Gene never wondered about whether Sam was like his niece's Ken doll with the clothes that came off all of a piece. Never wondered that at all. Sam had Gene's coat clutched in his hands and they were twirling around in what felt like some twisted version of the foxtrot until they crashed into the wall.

"You don't understand," said Sam for what Gene was certain was at least the millionth time. "I don't belong here. I don't belong with you."

Gene's defences were simple, hit first, think later. But this time something happened, it was like a click in his brain and he found himself yanking Sam to him and pressing their lips together. To his (not) surprise, Sam responded with all the energy he usually put into winding Gene up. As he sank into the kiss, Gene filed this strategy under 'successful' in his 'dealing with Sam' mental filing drawer. Then as Gene ground himself into Sam he forgot all about strategy and gave himself over to enjoying the discovery that Sam was significantly different from a Ken doll. He pulled away. Sam's pupils were dilated and he was panting and god, Gene wanted to fuck him into the floor.

"Think again, Sam," he growled. And Sam blinked and didn't say a word.


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