From here to there and all over.

[carlislestyle]

Peter was meant to be filling in for a DI that had to take some time off because of a bullet shot wound, which was always reassuring to hear about, for about month and some extra pay. It sounded perfect. Of course he was meant to be filling in but as of present, he was one hour late after taking the wrong train, having to walk all the way to the

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[hydeforareason]

Time moved different now, Sam was sure of it. He had trouble feeling much of anything these days, but he smiled and paid attention at meetings and made due with being alone. Maya had left him for good and transferred out of Manchester. He didn't blame her, but he still cooked for two people and purchased twice as much laundry detergent than he ought to have needed for a single load for himself.

He had moved his office around twice, first to mirror Gene's and then to look like how he'd had his DI's desk at the CID thirty years before. It was an odd angle, but people lived with it, ignoring how eccentric their boss had become.

He'd forgotten about a new DI until Paige rang him through the intercom.

"Mister Peter Carlisle is here for you, sir."

Sam blinked. "Who?" He knew that name....but where from?

"The DI you requested to fill in for--"

"Oh! Right. Yes, thank you. Send him right in."

[carlislestyle]

With a big beaming smile, Peter strolled into the room and peered around it, much different to the offices he was used too but he had been told be several people that the DCI of Manchester was a bit off. Then again, people said that he was a bit off and he had his doubts about that.

"'Ello! I'm Peter, Peter Carlisle. I'm your new DI for the month."

The Scotmans offered out his hand with careless abandonment, no issues with invading personal space but then he'd always been like that. Because, despite what Peter said, he was quite the odd bloke.

"Its a pleasure DCI Taylor." So close but no quite.

[hydeforareason]

It snapped together for Sam quickly as he looked up at the wild hair and a grown up smile. Peter had made an impact on him, even if they had only been 'playmates' for an instant, once upon a time. Peter would never remember him, but Sam needed a connection with a world he could not even manage to dream about.

Gene had gone deep. Gene had taken it all, everything but Sam's waking and failing memories of that place. Soon, and he was scared it was already happening, he'd forget those burnings eyes...

And when he did, he wasn't sure he could continue to carry on.

"Peter Carlisle...did your nan have a flat in Manchester about thirty three years or so ago?" He gave the address, holding onto the other man's hand tightly.

[carlislestyle]

This was creepy, that look in Sams eyes, the way he took his hand and held on. They weren't meant to exchanged a good firm hand shake and then Peter would leave to do his work. They weren't meant to stand here, holding hands, while Sam somehow listed off his nan's address. Blimey, that was impressive.

"Aye, my nans place, used to 'ate it, Manchester was generally boring, you know. Um-- no offence."

He watched that weird look in Sams face and tilted his head to the side, not sure what he was meant to do now. Clearing his throat loudly, he wriggled his fingers.

"DCI Taylor.. you're holding my hand?"

[hydeforareason]

Sam stayed late every night. He didn't have much to go home to, just an empty apartment in a space where a factory worker once died trying to keep his job. He still thought he could see the blood from that from time to time, and while he was tempted to pop the medications that they gave him to stop the episodes, he couldn't.

It was almost nine when he left his office, sure to find all but the hall lights on. This was not the case, however, and he blinked at Peter and his love hate muffin relationship.

"Shift's until five, you don't have to wait for me," he murmured, stopping by his desk.

[carlislestyle]

Looking up from his staring contest with the muffin, he offered Sam a small smile before shrugging his shoulders. "Got nothing better to do, 'ave I? Sit around a hotel, I suppose. Nah, rather be here. Better heating."

Smiling, he returned to the report he was scribbling down, showing clearly that he wasn't exactly about to leave like Sam was. Oh no, he'd be here a while if he could.

Plunging his hand into his pocket, he pulled out a small red lolly and unwrapped it, offering Sam a small look while the muffin sat there, all forgotten.

"I'll close down for you. eh?"

[hydeforareason]

Ah, the red lolly. Sam's hair had been sticky most of the night, transferring to Gene's shoulder when the man held onto him, rocked him slowly, and made it all okay again. Oh, if only Sam had known it would be their last night together--

He shook off the thoughts and tapped his forefinger on the desk. "No, it's customary that you let me buy you a drink," Sam said, pulling Carlisle's coat off of the hook in the corner of the room and held it out to him.

Sam himself was in a simple black suit jacket, a smaller version of Carlisle's. He never even took the Lion's coat home with him, just in case he never left it alone, curled up in bed with it, and was never seen again.

He needed to get out as much as Peter did.

"Pub's not far."

[carlislestyle]

Peter dropped his pen and sighed, supposing that maybe it was much better to get a drink than work all night like a bit of a sad pathetic loser. He really didn't want to stick around or go back to the hotel so it seemed that getting a drink as his best option.

Catching his coat, he shrugged the blue mac and buried his hands into the pockets. It was getting colder these days and he didn't want his hands to get cold, winter in England wasn't as bad as Scotland but still unpleasant.

"Alright then, not gonna pass up a free drink, am I?"

Course, his words would of made more sense if they weren't slurred around around a lolly.

Peter had gotten so used to talking with them in his mouth that he often forgot others wouldn't.

[hydeforareason]

When his prescription for his medication ran out, Sam had been a bit desperate. He was a brandy drinker. It was sweeter than whiskey, and he couldn't touch the stuff anymore, even if he had a bottle of Gene's brand in the cupboard.

He knew he was lost in it. He hadn't gotten a goodbye. He hadn't gotten a moment to do anything. He couldn't even remember his last words to him.

Sam finished his glass quickly, the burning taking his mind off of what really ailed him.

"Let's not start any fires at the station, all right?" Sam managed, the grin finally genuine. Good old alcohol. It fixed everything right on up.

[carlislestyle]

"Oh no, stopped setting fires when I saw 12," He admitted truthfully, Peter had been quite the handful as a child and not only did he like to tackle his friends and throw his toys are but he had an odd attraction to flames.

Though he'd gotten over that, he never did get over his oral obsession or the very fact that he tended to hum while he did... well, anything. Which explained by he appeared to be humming into his drink.

Peters first drink was gone before Sam even got halfway through his brandy but he happily ordered another, after all he hadn't had a drink in a while. The next one went as fast as the last one, empty glass waiting to be refilled. He didn't care much for what happened tomorrow or if the alcohol would play havoc with the pills he took. Though he hadn't taken any today and he was pretty proud of himself and his mental health. Manchester was good for him.

"So you've never left Manchester then? I assume as much cause you were a kid 'ere and now you work 'ere? I mean, don't you ever get bored?"

[hydeforareason]

"Oh, I traveled a bit actually," Sam said, not minding to talk about himself. "Mediteranian...spent about a month in Mexico, tryin' t'find myself before I decided that yeah, yeah I was goin t'be a copper. And look at me! I managed. Was one of the happiest days of my life when I made DCI."

He'd been a fairly normal sort of boy, right up until he started college. That was when he got so serious, when he tried to play everything by the book.

His mum had really needed him too.

"But yeah, guess I'm here again, back where my roots are."

[carlislestyle]

"Mexico? So you like places beginning with M," he joked, turning his head to the side as someone put a quid in the jukebox. Peter grinned almost childishly and knocked back the rest of his drink. He actually rather like his pub, if he was honest.

Of course, this was usually the part where Peter scared his friends off. Spinning up and off his seat, he did a weird sort of dance over to the bar so he could order another drink, his foot tapping as he waited.

When he finally returned to the table with his drink, there was a fair few watching the odd Scotsman as he slumped back, tilted his head backwards and... well. Hr joined in with the jukebox.

"Son, can you play me a memory? I’m not really sure how it goes. But it’s sad and it’s sweet and I knew it complete, when I wore a younger man’s clothes."

[hydeforareason]

"Oooh no," Sam said, arm at the back of the booth. He couldn't actually manage to stand up anymore so it was for the best that he actually go to sit down. Midnight had passed by that point and taxis were going to have to be called at this rate or Sam would just go back to his office and sleep on the couch.

He'd been caught doing that twice, but generally it was because he was working on a big case. That was forgivable. Drunken sleeping, however? Probably not so much.

"Interviews at eight, sharp. Don't call out on me, I'll need a deputy!"

[carlislestyle]

"Deputy? We aren't cowboy, Sammy."

Rolling his eyes, Peter spent the next half an hour with his head on the table, slurring his words as he told Sam about his home in Scotland and the sheep he'd named after him when he'd returned back home, just outside the fields.

Course when Sammy the sheep died, he was distraught as hell.

By the time it got close to closing time, Peter dragged himself upright and patted Sam on the shoulder with a drunken smile. "So... 'ow we gettin' 'ome?" he asked, his accent always got thicker when he mumbled till it became bloody hard to understand.

[hydeforareason]

"We, my drunken Scottish friend, are going home," Sam said, trying to hook his arm around Peter's neck. This, however, proved a bit impossible given their height differences. "Bend down a bit like a mate will you?"

Sam had become a sheep in Peter's childhood, so he could at least bend somewhat for him! Of course, it made them both look like idiots, but no matter.

Sam told the driver his address and babbled to Peter about the lolly being stuck in his hair and asked him if he still had the Paddington Bear shirt.

[carlislestyle]

The rather ducked down DI staggered awkwardly outside, finding where exactly the taxi was proved to be just as hard as walking around with his head down lead him into a lamppost and almost knocked Sam in front of the taxi.

Sprawled out on the backseat, he slumped against Sam, telling him all about the Paddington bear teddy he took everywhere with him cause his nan had given it to him before her death.

As they pulled up outside of Sams, Peter was already half asleep against him, stubbornly refusing to actually move, much to the taxi drivers annoyance.

[hydeforareason]

Sam hadn't dreamed in months, and he wasn't doing so now when he heard his name. One eye popped open, the other followed after a few moments, and he rolled over onto his back for a moment before kicking his legs over the edge of the bed. Everything in Sam's flat was white and chrome, bright but cold and unlived in. It was strange for him to see someone on his couch, wrapped up in blankets, yelling like a moron.

He sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Sam was in his boxers and a white undershirt. His head was pounding and he wanted nothing more than to go back to bed.

"Y'all right, Pete?"

[carlislestyle]

Peter peered out from the covers and frowned up at Sam before shrugging and dropping back down, looking very uninterested in actually talking to Sam. "Just making sure I was crashing at the right blokes place, you can go now."

Course, he lay there for about half a minute before swallowing hard three times... and shooting up from the sofa. Bollocks! "Sammy, bathroom? Now!"

Following the directions, Peter flung himself inside it and managed to lock it behind him before he proceeded to wretch in the toiler. He supposed it was better to get this part over with at 5am and clear his system and body than it was to run around feeling naff all day.

Some painkillers and mints and he'd be good to go. For now, he was successfully managing to ruin Sammys morning.

[hydeforareason]

Oh, Peter could do any worse than Sam did for himself. He blinked at the door and popped some pain killers before heading to the kitchen. When Peter managed to pull himself out of the bathroom, it would be to the smell of eggs and bacon. For once, Sam wasn't going to be making too much.

It had been awhile since he actually cooked breakfast, and he hummed just a little -- "Piano Man" of course -- as he sipped at his coffee.

He was like a good lay, the sort of girl most lads wanted to wake up to. Minus the fact that he and Peter hadn't slept together. That's probably what was going to make it awkward for the visiting DI.

[carlislestyle]

Staggering out of the bathroom after gargling some mouthwash, Peter leaned against the doorframe and raised an eyebrow at the breakfast. How... different. Usually when he got drunk and hurled up, he got kicked out. Hell, his last DCI verbally castrated him in front of the whole team for being half an hour late.

"Well, good mornin' to you to Sammy."

Dropping down onto a chair in the kitchen, he groaned and rubbed at his eyes. This was going to be one hell of a long day.

"Anything embarrassing I should know about? I tend to get a bit... well stupid when drunk."