Loz (lozenger8) wrote,

A Dream Upon Waking

Title: A Dream Upon Waking
Fandom: Life on Mars
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2200 words.
Notes: Sam/Gene. Title from Jon Brion. Written for the prompt Five Times Sam couldn't sleep, Even If He Really, Really Needed To, given by dorcas_gustine.
Summary: "I don't know, that's the thing. And ever since I haven't been able to sleep, very strange things have been happening. Bizarre things, even. Totally fucking cracked things."


Sam closed his eyes. He wanted, so desperately, to nod off without having to resort to case-file reading, wandering, or wanking. It had been a hectic and stressful day and all he needed was sleep. But it wasn't happening. He'd had too many cups of coffee, his mind was working overtime thinking about Chris and his new idea of an inter-division Football League. Sam had said he'd be goalie, not having considered that they may go up against C-division from Hyde. He either pulled out and looked like a prat, or socialised with Hyde and discovered things he didn't want to know. Damned if he did, damned if he didn't.

Sam got up and made himself a relaxing cocoa with marshmallows and dunked a curly wurly into it as he opened up the Spencer case. If he couldn't sleep, he might as well work, and later, he could go for a walk, and as push came to shove, he could rev himself up with his favourite fantasy of the week; Gene handcuffed in a prone position and his for the taking.

As the hours wore on, Sam grew progressively more tired and disillusioned with the world. Black seemed blacker, the usually tiny noises were cacophonous, and he dared not turn on the television.

Before long, the sun was rising. Sam had a quick bath, then pulled his jeans and shirt on, ready to go to work. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed he looked like shit. The walk to work was fine. He clutched his manila folders tightly to his chest, so that if the wind blew hard, he wouldn't lose the precious paper contained therein.

Sam was surprised to find Gene already at the station. He gave him a curt nod, but Gene ushered him into his office and let the door swing closed.

"Tyler, got a delicate business I want you to handle, think you're up to it?"

Sam was immediately suspicious. "Tell me what it is and I'll give you my answer."

Gene glared. "Undercover operation."

"I'm always up for an undercover op, Guv. What're the details?"

Gene started speaking, going into the finer particulars of the case, but Sam lost interest halfway through. Gene's gaze was mesmerising; so unlike any he'd ever seen before. He'd almost call it cornflower.

"Earth to sodding Tyler. You in there or do we need to erect a search party?"

"Sorry, I got distracted looking at your eyes. I don't think I'd ever noticed them before, which is weird, because they're such a bright blue."

"Finally covered colours with Mrs Girlsthorpe, eh? It'll be shapes and numbers next." Gene snapped his fingers in front of Sam's face. "Get to it, Samuel, there's villains to catch and costumes to acquire."

"Not to worry, I've got the perfect item in my wardrobe at home," Sam replied.

Gene gave a disgusted grunt that seemed to say 'why am I unsurprised?' and lead the way to the Cortina.

Inside the door of his block of flats, Sam narrowed his eyes. Straight ahead was a flight of stairs leading up to his corridor, with no other path to take. This didn't seem right.

Not having the time to worry about it, Sam bounded up the stairs and into his flat.


Sam felt like the non-creepy version of Gary Glitter up on stage. He knew he looked fabulous in his skin-tight black-sequined jumpsuit with flared collar, shoulder-pads, and bellbottoms. His guitar playing wasn't even all that bad, considering he hadn't played for nine years. And his singing? Sounded like a cat being shoved through a mangle. But no one in the club seemed to care.

He was keeping a watchful eye on everything occurring in the club, as per instructions. There was meant to be a drug deal going down that night and damned if he was going to miss it since he'd gone to such lengths. Unfortunately, he had groupies, and the groupies looked at his every movement. One girl was positively squealing at him and trying to clutch his ankles.

He was bone-weary and annoyed that this would be an overnight job. He wasn't sure he could afford another 24 hours without some rest.

Four hours after he had started, and into his third set, he saw Gene appear around the door. He didn't signal, although he was tempted. He waited until he'd finished six encores and was parched.

"Ecky thump, lookit the cat dragged in," Gene remarked, giving Sam the once over with a blue intensity that made Sam's jumpsuit even tighter. "I'd've thought you'd rather g'arn wearin' nowt than that clowt."


"Eh up, sunshine, git yer wits about yer."


"Bloody 'ell, yer've turned into a great barmpot. I'm not 'avin' that, Gladys. You found owt?"

Sam stopped frowning long enough to answer with an almost cheery disposition. "Better than that. I've got photographic evidence."

"That's me boy. Now close yer gob afore some fly wanders in and leaves with yer brains."

"I'm pretty sure that's already happened. I'm feeling really ill, Gene."

"A good buttie'll sort yer. I'll git one meself."


Changed and fed, Sam still hadn't had the opportunity to get some shut-eye. He sat on his sofa and his eyelids flickered as he watched Gene fiddling with his buttons. He had decided to tactfully ignore what he saw as Gene regressing thirty years. After all, he knew what that was like.

"Gene, you alright?"

"'Course I'm arright."

"You look vexed."

"I've bin wantin' a talk with yer fer a long time, like."

Sam could hardly raise his head, but he just about managed a nod. Gene gave a grunt.

"Look, don't be a scally 'bout it. This is 'ard, this."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Gene."

"Surely, yer've seen me lookin'?"

"At what?"

"At yer-poofy-self, yer bell-end."

Sam continued to gaze blankly. Gene gave another frustrated groan.

"Don't yer look all sken-eyed at me. Not when I'm tellin' yer how I feel."

Sam sat upright in his chair, straightening his shoulders and pursing his lips. "How do you feel, Gene?"

"I love yer. Have done since I first laid me eyes on yer and me gob were open fer all th'world t'sken. Much like yer look now, when all's said'n'told. Sam, I don't care what th'others say, will yer marry me?"

Sam stood up. "I'm pretty sure that'd be illegal."

"Who cares? It'll be a private ceremony, jus' us."

"No, I don't think so, I think you've got what I do. I think we're sick. Possibly in the head."

Sam's eyes widened as Gene collapsed to the floor and he grovelled at his feet. "Sam, I've not requested much before in me life, but I'm beggin' yer, please?" Sam saw a single tear dripping down his cheek.

Sam was about to say no again when Gene lurched up and grabbed his zip. He considered making a run for it, but Gene's mouth was quickly on his cock, and he lost all mobility in his legs. His blood was now rushing in one concentrated area. And there was no escape.


The sex continued all day, in multiple positions, in a plethora of places, accompanied by numerous sounds. It was like Gene had no refractory period, and Sam was exhausted, but continually aroused, so he had no down time either. It was in and out, shake it all about, on constant rotation. Gene topped but refused to bottom, they engaged in frottage, there was rimming aplenty, and even suggestions they go out dogging in the Cortina.

Towards midnight, Sam was feeling feverish, and he was fairly sure it wasn't just a flush of heat from the work-out.

"I think I'm dying," Sam groaned.

"No, pet, yer jus' devoted."

"No, Gene, I'm running a fever. I'm really sick. I haven't slept for three days straight."

Gene gave a look that was a mixture of concern and outrage. "How dare yer not tell me? I could've bin takin' care o'yer insteada shaggin' yer brains out."

Sam was dismayed to see him get out of the miraculously large cot with a spring in his step and go to the bathroom. Sam heard a shower running and then Gene appeared again, naked save for a teeny tiny towel and a loofah.

"I'll cool yer right down," Gene said, lifting Sam up as if he were a bride to cross the threshold. Sam tried to flail, but was hampered by big, strong, muscular arms and one warning look from bright blue eyes.

"This isn't necessary," Sam complained.

"Yeah, t'is, n' don't yer worry yer pretty little 'ead, yer'll be sound sooner than I can brew up."

Sam was delicately held in the stream of water, Gene's fingers dancing over his skin. He began to relax at Gene's ministrations, as he travelled from his collarbone to his hip, and over again. Gene tenderly placed a cool flannel over Sam's forehead and gave him a soft, chaste kiss.

"There yer go, sleepin' beauty."

"I'm not sleeping," Sam mumbled.

"Yer should be, yer gormless gorgeous pillock."

"I can't sleep," Sam whined.

"Why not?"

"I don't know, that's the thing. And ever since I haven't been able to sleep, very strange things have been happening. Bizarre things, even. Totally fucking cracked things."

"Like what?"

"This. The Gene Hunt I know would sooner shove my head in a toilet bowl than caress me."

"Maybe yer don't know Gene Hunt as well as yer think yer do?"

Sam sounded shrill and confused. "Maybe not?"

Gene stayed up with Sam all night, making him hot drinks and cold flannels. He even put on Sam's apron at one stage, and that's when Sam began shredding a piece of paper he'd found under the miraculously large cot.


Gene walked Sam into the station with his arm around him, and in the middle of CID, planted a gigantic kiss, straight on the lips. Sam went rigid and peered around at everyone who stood watching.

Suddenly, there was a clap. And then another. And another. Those who were seated stood, and the applause was wild and full of cheer. Sam thought he was going to throw up.

"This is nuts!" he yelled, waving his arms around. "Did you see what just happened? Have you all gone batshit insane?"

"Sam, what's th'bother, we've been waitin' fer months fer yer both ter sort yerselves out, like," Chris said with a puzzled look on his face.

"Yeah, yer so sweet together, I'd've never thought we'd actually get ter see it," Ray added.

Sam screamed, a piercing, guttural scream, his eyes savage and his teeth bared. "I can't handle this anymore! I can't! You're all wrong. All of you!"

Gene put his arms around Sam again and hugged tight. "We're here for you, darlin', jus' let it out. We're none of us in this ter condemn yer."

Sam tried to break free, but his bones were aching and his muscles weak. His breathing grew steadily more laboured as he writhed and wriggled. And then he felt something solid in Gene's pocket. It wasn't that he was happy to see Sam.

Sam dug his hand in to a gasp and an, "oh, we get to see a show?" from Annie. He pulled the gun out and aimed it at Ray.

"Stop being a nutter. Now."

Ray didn't look surprised, angry, or scared. "Come now, Sam, yer needn't be this over the top. We're jus bein' 'ones---." Ray's declaration was interrupted by a gunshot and he fell to the floor, glassy-eyed .

Sam aimed at Chris next. "Seriously, go back to normal."

"I dunno what he means, Guv?" Chris asked, befuddled. He rolled back with a thump and Sam gazed at the smoke exiting the barrel.

"Sam, maybe yer'd like a tea?" Annie asked kindly, and within moments was lying in a pool of her own blood.

"Last chance, Gene?" Sam asked, shaking with exertion and terror.

Gene shook his head with a benevolent smile. Sam took the shot. Everything went black.


His head was pounding when he awoke, and Sam looked around with bleary annoyance.

"Christ on a crutch, so you're finally awake," Gene said, rolling angry eyes that Sam noted were green. "Get your lumpy arse out of bed, we've crims to catch."

Sam struggled with the covers and fell out of the cot. "Gene, I had the strangest dream."

"Save it for your diary, Samantha, I don't give a damn what goes on in that head of yours."

Sam ignored him and kept explaining. "You were in it. And I couldn't sleep."

"What a fascinating life you do lead. You know dreams are meant to be about our deepest, darkest desires? Clearly, you're an empty shell save for your insistence on being a pain in my glorious arse."

"Actually, in the dream, you were a pain in mine," Sam mumbled as he stripped off his vest and searched in his drawer for a new one.

When he looked back up, Gene's eyes were travelling over his body, his expression unreadable apart from the barest glint of smouldering lust.

"I hope, after that several day sleep, you're feeling refreshed," Gene said with a gravelled edge. "I'm told there's nothing like delirium to strip a man to his core."

"Several days?" Sam echoed, and followed Gene out of the flat.

They pounded down Sam's stairs with a clatter.

Tags: humour, life on mars, rated nc-17, slash, writing

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