[fic] LoM: Noughty Noughty
TITLE: Noughty Noughty (part 4 of 8 of The Psycho!Samatic Cycle)
SUMMARY: More about the doings of the Divine Mr. Div!
RATING: White Cortina, actually, although I think it must at least be splodged with pink since it's the next part of a rather bloody Red Cortina story...
WORD COUNT: 556
AUTHOR'S NOTES: A continuation of Andy's Cross, which was descended from my Noughts, which was descended from our joint crackfic The Candyman Can. Because apparently, the bunnies are out to eat both of us ALIVE. D:
DISCLAIMER: Life on Mars is copyright Kudos and the BBC. All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made.
Noughty Noughty
Chris yawned and stretched and looked just like he normally did.
That was the most beautiful thing about all this. There were a few things about life in CID that no one questioned; the fact Sam was obviously insane (though brilliant for it, at times) was one, and the fact Chris tried awfully, awfully hard but bodged things up more often than not was another.
And, quite frankly, that was the way he liked it.
Truthfully, he hadn't had much of a direction in life before Sam came on-scene. Oh, he'd done well enough getting by in CID, and he didn't hate his job. But he hadn't had much in the way of major dreams or aspirations until Sam had come along.
Sam had changed all their lives considerably since his arrival, and truly none moreso than Chris. Chris was fine admitting this, too; he rather looked up to Sam as a sort of mentor. This was probably a good thing, he reflected; Ray's tache might work well for him, but probably not so for everyone.
One of the truly amazing things about Sam was that while he was completely certifiable, he always managed to look so very good whilst nattering on about this or that bit of procedural nonsense that almost (but not quite) made sense. Chris strove to emulate this as well as possible, something which he found he was really quite good at. He was sure Sam would have been proud; well, as sure as he could be without asking.
Because while it was painfully obvious to all around that Chris obviously looked up to Sam in some way, he didn't want them to suspect to what degree. He was quite happy using his haplessness as a cover for his actual competency. If people were too distracted wondering what crazy thing Sam would get up to next, they'd have no time to suspect that he, Chris, had anything to do with---anything.
Chris smiled to himself and allowed himself another yawn before trying to scratch an elusive little itch just south of his left shoulderblade. He could almost get it if he shoved his right arm down backwards with his left...
BANG!
Chris fell with a clatter to the floor as he managed to tip his chair over backward whilst trying to scratch.
"Oi! Did someone order a new doormat for my office?" Gene stood over Chris, glaring down at him as he barked.
"No, boss. Sorry." Chris rubbed his head where he'd hit the ground and pushed himself up in as dignified a manner as he could manage.
"I want none of you going home until my say-so. Clear?" Gene scowled whilst taking a mighty puff off the fag in the corner of his mouth.
Ray groaned audibly, but cut it short at a look from Gene. He'd been in CID more than long enough to know which lines could be crossed and which couldn't. Or so he liked to think.
Chris, meanwhile, had recovered himself enough to hastily scrawl a note which said only, "We have to talk" in block letters. He got up and moved towards the door, meaning to go to the loo. As he passed Sam's desk, he dropped a small square of folded-up paper as surreptitiously as he knew how on top of it.
SUMMARY: More about the doings of the Divine Mr. Div!
RATING: White Cortina, actually, although I think it must at least be splodged with pink since it's the next part of a rather bloody Red Cortina story...
WORD COUNT: 556
AUTHOR'S NOTES: A continuation of Andy's Cross, which was descended from my Noughts, which was descended from our joint crackfic The Candyman Can. Because apparently, the bunnies are out to eat both of us ALIVE. D:
DISCLAIMER: Life on Mars is copyright Kudos and the BBC. All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made.
Noughty Noughty
Chris yawned and stretched and looked just like he normally did.
That was the most beautiful thing about all this. There were a few things about life in CID that no one questioned; the fact Sam was obviously insane (though brilliant for it, at times) was one, and the fact Chris tried awfully, awfully hard but bodged things up more often than not was another.
And, quite frankly, that was the way he liked it.
Truthfully, he hadn't had much of a direction in life before Sam came on-scene. Oh, he'd done well enough getting by in CID, and he didn't hate his job. But he hadn't had much in the way of major dreams or aspirations until Sam had come along.
Sam had changed all their lives considerably since his arrival, and truly none moreso than Chris. Chris was fine admitting this, too; he rather looked up to Sam as a sort of mentor. This was probably a good thing, he reflected; Ray's tache might work well for him, but probably not so for everyone.
One of the truly amazing things about Sam was that while he was completely certifiable, he always managed to look so very good whilst nattering on about this or that bit of procedural nonsense that almost (but not quite) made sense. Chris strove to emulate this as well as possible, something which he found he was really quite good at. He was sure Sam would have been proud; well, as sure as he could be without asking.
Because while it was painfully obvious to all around that Chris obviously looked up to Sam in some way, he didn't want them to suspect to what degree. He was quite happy using his haplessness as a cover for his actual competency. If people were too distracted wondering what crazy thing Sam would get up to next, they'd have no time to suspect that he, Chris, had anything to do with---anything.
Chris smiled to himself and allowed himself another yawn before trying to scratch an elusive little itch just south of his left shoulderblade. He could almost get it if he shoved his right arm down backwards with his left...
BANG!
Chris fell with a clatter to the floor as he managed to tip his chair over backward whilst trying to scratch.
"Oi! Did someone order a new doormat for my office?" Gene stood over Chris, glaring down at him as he barked.
"No, boss. Sorry." Chris rubbed his head where he'd hit the ground and pushed himself up in as dignified a manner as he could manage.
"I want none of you going home until my say-so. Clear?" Gene scowled whilst taking a mighty puff off the fag in the corner of his mouth.
Ray groaned audibly, but cut it short at a look from Gene. He'd been in CID more than long enough to know which lines could be crossed and which couldn't. Or so he liked to think.
Chris, meanwhile, had recovered himself enough to hastily scrawl a note which said only, "We have to talk" in block letters. He got up and moved towards the door, meaning to go to the loo. As he passed Sam's desk, he dropped a small square of folded-up paper as surreptitiously as he knew how on top of it.