genes_world_backup | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who: Gene Hunt, Alex Drake, Open
When: Evening
Where: CID Office, Fenchurch East
What: Gene gets back from his ‘team building’ exercise
Warnings: Gene’s potty mouth, as always

Gene Hunt, half of CID and the Quattro had been missing for much of the day. They eventually returned and the door to the CID swung open. In walked in a very wet team, looking very much like they had been dragged through the gutter. They're covered in dust, dirt, cobwebs, flour and a multitude of colours. Gene had taken them on a 'team building' exercise, and for once it didn't involve sitting in a pub getting pissed.

Gene removed his coat as he walked to his office, hanging it up before addressing the team that had been left behind, clasping his hands together, wringing them. "Right then. Any murders?"

"No, Guv."

"Stabbings?"

"No, Guv."

"Robberies?"

"No, Guv."

"Anything?"

"No, Guv."

"Glad to hear it. Okay ladies, let’s call it a day. Go on, get out of 'ere before I change my mind." He paused, turning his attention to the wet, filthy team. "You did good today. I'm proud of you." What was that? Gene? Praising his team?

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Gene Hunt. The Manc Lion. The Guv. A supposed epitome of strength had spent every second since leaving work second-guessing himself and wondering whether this was the right thing. Despite his fears he was now stood outside Alex's flat, bottle of wine in one hand, a bouquet of flowers in the other - and not some cheap bunch from a corner shop, but a proper bouquet from a flower shop.

He no longer looked like he had been dragged through a hedge backwards and dumped in a baker's shop. He was dressed in a suit - always a suit, he rarely wore anything else. He'd even put on a decent aftershave.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the door, leaning against the wall as he waited.

The knocking finally got Alex's attention and she set down the wooden spoon and picked up a tea towel to wipe her hands on as she headed to the door. "Coming," she called out, pausing to glance in the mirror in the hall. One corner of the tea towel served to get the tiny spatter of sauce off her cheekbone and her other hand smoothed down her bob a little better on the left side.

"Good shower?" she greeted him. He looked good, she thought, but then he always did when he made an effort. (Was she underdressed? She could always slip a dress on and claim she'd worn the leggings to cook in...)

Gene pushed himself off the wall as the door opened, looking as cool and calm as he could. "Mm. I feel better for it."

He held out the flowers, giving a smile. "Here, I got these for you." He felt like so much of a wimp right now. Like the geeky kid of the class trying to get the attention of the popular girl. "You scrub up well, Bolls. You look great."

"Thank you so much." Alex took the flowers in one hand and cupped his face with the other, leaning in to press a gentle but slightly lingering kiss to his lips. "I really adore roses."

Stepping back to let him in, she brought the bouquet to her face and inhaled the flowers' perfume. "Oh, and they smell fantastic. Come on in, dinner's almost ready."

Alex's kisses were becoming rather addictive. In fact, being near Alex in general was becoming addictive. It was probably a dangerous path to wander down, yet he seemed to be heading down it anyway. He returned the kiss, before following Alex inside. It seemed strange to be in the flat again.

"Food smells great, Bolls. Might have to come here more often."

"You might even be welcome, Guv," she teased him, fishing a vase out from under the sink to put the flowers in. "I'm not promising that my spag bol will match Luigi's, but I thought after the day you've had, something that would stick to your ribs would be welcome."

Gene fetched a corkscrew to open the wine with. He was happy that things hadn't moved around too much. He poured two glasses of wine and leaned against the kitchen counter. "I'm sure it tastes great. Multi-talented bird, aren'tcha? Great cop, great looker, and a cook too. And I'm still deciding where you were a prozzie or not. I'll let you know when I decide," he teased, relaxing a little.

"Oh, God, you're not still on that, are you?" Alex wrinkled her nose and fetched a dessert spoon to taste the sauce. "Oh, that's good," she smiled, and dipped it back into the pot before holding it out for him to taste.

Gene gave a laugh. "Do you blame me? You, in that outfit, caressing my motor, burned into my brain forever." He leaned forward, tasting the sauce, clicking his tongue in approval. "Tastes good, Drakey."

He leaned back against the counter, lowering his head. "And just for the record, this is a date, none of that pansy tea and sympathy, right?"

"I know," she promised, testing the pasta and chewing thoughtfully. "It has to be a date, if, for no other reason than the fact that you're wearing that after-shave." Alex set the strainer in her sink and glanced at him sideways, opting for 'forward' again. "It always makes me think of burying my face in your neck in that dark, sealed room."

"Well..." If Alex could tease, so could he, right? Right. "...We could always turn out the lights and I could always put a comforting arm around you. You have to take your top off, mind."

He paused for a moment, before all but waggling his eyebrows at her. "No worries of being interrupted by a rescue party, either."

"I suppose I could dig out the red bustier," she mused, watching him through her lashes. "Plates, please."

Gene gave a silent chuckle, his shoulders shaking a little as he did so. He got the plates, handing them to Alex. It felt very domesticated. Perhaps even a little poofy, but at the same time it was nice. He and the ex-missus hadn't done things like that. His dinner was on the table when he came home at night - well, at least in the beginning. Towards the end it was in the bin more often than not.

"So... my after-shave makes you quiver with excitement, does it Bolls? Better buy some more then."

"I hope I'm not going to regret giving you that little tidbit," Alex smiled fondly, dishing up two large plates of spag bol. She gestured with her head that he should carry them to the table while she got the garlic bread out of the oven.

"But yes... it works very well with your own scent. It's very... masculine."

"Well, I'm hardly going to wear something that makes me smell like a fairy, Bolly. I'm all man, me. A shining example of manhood and poise." Of course he had been called plenty of other things in his time, most of them not so pleasant.

He picked up the plates and carried them to the table, before returning to get the wine glasses and the wine bottle. ood food, good drink and good company. What else did a man need?

"Something like that, yes, I suppose you are," Alex concurred, slicing up the warm, buttery baguette and popping it into a bread basket. This was really quite nice, actually -- the domesticity of it all. She and Peter had been like this during the good days... oh, and wasn't that a lifetime ago?

Gene pulled his lighter from his pocket and lit some candles. Since it was already a date they might as well go the whole way and have romantic candles too. So what if it was girly.

He took a sip of his wine. "Been a long time since anyone cooked for me like this."

"Been a long time since I've cooked for anyone at all." Alex flipped off the main overhead light, leaving on the one over the oven, and came to sit down across from him at the table, setting the basket of bread between them. The candles were a nice touch, casting warm, intimate shadows around the table. Lovely.

"I could, erm, get rather used to this." She plucked a piece of the bread from the basket and dipped it into her sauce before biting down with relish. Yum.

Gene twirled spagetti around his fork, taking a taste. It tasted as good as it looked. He chewed thoughtfully, washing the mouthful down with some wine. "Makes a change from chips." Or pizza, burgers, bacon or any of the usual crap that he lived on.

He fell silent for a long while, gritting his teeth as he mulled over something in his head. "Alex, can I ask you something?" Another pause. "When you foundout the truth... why did you stay? Why didn't you go with Keats?"

She was content to eat in companionable silence... especially since Gene seemed to be thinking hard about something. Alex had more patience now -- he'd come to it in his own time.

"You can always ask me, Gene. I don't always promise an answer -- but if I give one, it will be truthful," she told him, continuing to enjoy dinner and wine.

"Why did... oh, Gene. Because it was the truth. Because it was real. You didn't deserve what had happened... but you took what happened to you and you've done wonderful things for so many people."

She set her fork down and just looked at him for a minute. "That skinny kid with his head full of Westerns grew up to be a damn good man, and the finest copper I've ever known. Keats? Keats could never touch that, Gene. Not in a million years."

Gene kept his eyes on Alex, watching her with a level gaze, letting her words sink in. His lip quirked into a smile. "That skinny kid... He had a lot of help from an annoying ponce in a leather jacket and an even more annoying mouthy tart. Before they came into his life he was a thug fighting the corrupt world with corruption of his own."

"Well, I can't really speak for the ponce, but the tart is pleased to have been able to help." The affection she felt for him was plain in her words.

"Me too, Bolly. Me too." He really would've fallen apart without her. Not just when the truth was revealed about him, but plenty of other times too. She gave him strength to fight.

"One more question," he started, taking another bite of food. "Did you really think Tyler's body was in that grave?"

Alex sighed heavily and took a long sip of her wine. "Gene... I-- I didn't know what to think. Things weren't adding up. Th-they weren't making any sense whatsoever. I was deeply confused, and Keats just kept pushing and pushing."

Another sip of the wine. "I don't know. I know I really didn't want it to be. I know it was a horrible, rude shock that there was a body there.."

"A shock for you and me both, Bolly." Bloody Keats. He had set the whole thing up so well. Plant the seed of doubt in Alex's mind and push until she gave in, knowing full well Gene would follow. The truth revealed to them both like one giant slap in the face - or more appropriately, bullet to the head.

"I'm sorry."