Fandom: Life on Mars [I shall not abandon ye!]
Word Count: 600+
Notes: Sam/Gene slash. Don't eat any sweets whilst reading this one. You may have a sugar overdose. Originally written as commentfic for beautybecks, who appears to think Gene Hunt's cute (oddest. notion. ever!) Except totally not, because I agree wholeheartedly. And verily ficced accordingly.
"You're wearing rubber gloves."
"That's not like you at all."
“Doing the washing up, Sammy-boy. You made the dinner. Thought it were my turn for a bit of domesticity.”
Sam stared, mouth agape, eyes fixed. Madness. Utter, utter madness. He couldn’t move for the shock of it. Gene put the plates into the water and whirled around aggressively.
“Is this really so bloody surprising?”
Gene had his hands on his hips and Sam burst out laughing, the movement and sound racking his body. Gene’s sleeves were rolled up. Part of his hair was damp and flicked back. And he had some fairy liquid bubbles settled into the hollow between his nose and cheek.
Sam launched himself at Gene, so turned on, he thought he’d explode.
“That was a sodding goal!”
“No it wasn’t.”
“Bastard well was.”
“Gene, it went over the fucking top.”
“I’m gonna clean your mouth out with soap.”
Gene threw his shoulders back, his City shirt making a taut line against his chest. The mud across his forehead highlighted the anger in his eyes.
“I’ll let ya kick again.”
“Go on. I’ll give you another shot. If I don’t, you’ll bloody complain for a month. But if you don’t get this one, I’m declaring you the loser, alright?”
Gene pushed his lips forward and narrowed his eyes. He nodded his head in acceptance. He ran up and kicked the ball, narrowly avoiding Chris and going through in perfect precision.
“I WIN. I WIN. YOU LOSE, YOU GREAT BIG SISSY GIRL, MARJORIE. I AM THE WINNER!” Gene shouted, jumping up and down and running around half the pitch with his arms outstretched like someone twenty years his junior.
Sam giggled, grinned and wandered over to Chris, handing him a fiver. “Thanks, Chris.”
Gene stopped dead in his tracks and came surging forward. “Oi!”
Sam had always assumed Gene was bad with kids. He’d seen Gene with kids before, and he’d been undeniably awful, making the poor little buggers cry. But here he was with a cheerful child. A cheerful child that was being carried around on his shoulders. A cheerful child who was giggling, holding onto his dark blond hair.
Sam choked when he realised who the cheerful child was.
Sam frowned at Gene, who stood in his doorway with a raised fist that had just been knocking on Sam’s door, quite possibly for the first time ever.
“Gene, what’re you doing here? I’m off today.”
“You weren’t answering your phone.”
“Been out shopping.” Sam stepped to the side, allowing Gene access into his flat. He crossed his arms, noticing Gene’s distracted air.
“Which shop?” Gene asked.
“Supermarket down way, why?”
“There’s been a blag in that sweetshop you got the sherbet from, the other day on stakeout.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Oh, and you thought I’d got involved, right? Silly Sam, always sticking his nose into trouble.”
Gene mumbled. “I was worried about you.”
“Awww, that’s almost endearing.”
“You’re a tosser.”
Gene was yawning, rubbing his hand over his stomach. He looked like a well-fed teddy bear. Sam watched him intently, warmth creeping up his body.
“You are so cute.”
“I am not cute. What the hell does that even mean?”
“You’re the very definition of cute.”
“I have a dark and brutal heart.”
“Dark and brutal heart my arse.”
“I wouldn’t use the words brutal and arse in the same sentence if I were you,” Gene replied, lightly tapping Sam on the shoulder.
Sam pressed his lips to Gene’s wrist and kissed a trail up his arm. “Cute, cute, cute, cute, cute.”
Gene punched again, slightly harder, then dragged Sam forward until he was lying directly over him. “I’ll give you cute. I’ll ram you so hard you won’t be able to form the word, let alone have any inclination to use it.”