Hot male nudes by fawsley, blue Cortina with Sam and Gene
Title: Hot male nudes : epilogue to Things fall apart
Author: fawsley
Characters: Gene/Sam
Rating: blue Cortina
Word Count: 2250 - bloody long epilogue! More like part six!
Disclaimer: All the property of BBC and Kudos
Note: For draycevixen, who has for bloody ages been poking me with that pokey stick of hers about an epilogue to Things fall apart. And after she gave me a good hard shove via ausmac's LJ earlier this evening, I sat down and damn well wrote it for her!
If you haven't already read Things fall apart I'm afraid you really do have to before setting out on this one or it just won't make any sense at all. Links to all five (not very long) parts are here:
1: A Keystone Cop
2: Norfolk Bronze
3: Five minutes with me and you'll sing like a canary
4: The talented Mr Hunt
5 : The second coming
Hot male nudes
Sam hadn’t said anything at all for at least ten minutes, simply wandered back and forth wearing the same slightly confused, slightly deranged expression he’d had plastered across his face that first day. Gene trailed silently behind, wondering whether, like that first day, Sam was going to try to pick a fight with him. He hoped not, because this time he wasn’t at all sure that he’d find himself on the winning side.
Fourth circuit of the living room.
It had seemed such a good idea at the time. The time when he dreamed about luring Tyler back to his side and maybe even more, the time when he played at making a perfect place for Sammy to live. His fantasy Sammy, the Sammy who smiled and did and said just what Gene wanted him to on cue.
Not this flesh and blood Sammy who looked at everything without a word on his lips.
Back to the bathroom.
He wasn’t sure now when he’d lost control over all this. Must have been some considerable time ago. Probably on his third circuit of Norwich when he finally got that call through and thought he was heading off up the A47 towards King’s Lynn but instead found himself back outside that poxy shit-hole of an excuse for a flat, biting his nails down to the quick as he waited for DCI Dumpling and his equally floury-faced sidekicks to show up.
No, oh no… Not the bedroom again, for fuck’s sake.
Even back there at the office this evening, on his own turf, even then it hadn’t been right. Tyler had tricked him, the little shit, laid it bare that he wasn’t the Guv of this particular comedy of errors. If Litton hadn’t put in an appearance he wasn’t at all certain that he could have maintained any semblance of composure for much longer.
It had been a mistake, a great big huge fucking enormous mistake, to tell Tyler about this place. Even worse to actually bring him here. Stupid stupid stupid. Now he had to work out how to leave as quickly and as painlessly as possible. But then, back in the kitchen for the upteenth time, Sam came to a sudden halt and turned to face his follower.
‘You did this for me?’
Gene stuffed his hands into his pockets, harrumphed, looked away at the view out of the opened French window, wondered how much it would hurt if he jumped.
‘Yeah… No… Sort of…’
‘Make up your mind, Gene!’
‘Goes with the job. Whoever’s job…’
‘Lot of effort for whoever.’
‘Eh? What?’
‘You said you’d chosen the bed yourself…’
‘Yeah, well, said all sorts of stuff…’
‘Don’t think I haven’t noticed the ashtray and coasters and even the clock for fuck’s sake. Seems whoever is expected to be a United fan…’
‘Swiped ‘em from a pub.’
‘And there’s a fully stocked larder…’
‘Got a plonk to get some stuff in.’
‘You must introduce me, I’d like to thank her in person.’
‘Christ, Tyler, I don’t know. Just some plonk. Doesn’t matter. They’re all the bloody same.’
‘S’okay. I reckon I know her name already.’
‘You do?’
‘Yeah. I’m a DI after all, and she’s left her fingerprints all over the place.’
‘She has?’
Gene hoped his gulp wasn’t too audible.
Sam disappeared into a cupboard and reappeared clutching the evidence.
‘Pink wafers, Boddingtons, hoops, family pack of Curly Wurlies… So who’s responsible? WPC Jean-with-a-J or DCI Gene-with-a-G, eh?’
‘Fuck off, Tyler and I’ll do the same. Please yourself. If you don’t like it you know where you can bloody stuff it.’
Gene grabbed his coat from its resting place on the back of a chair and pushed past Tyler towards the hallway, only to be grappled back against the wall by the lapels and here was that fight at last, the fight he’d known was coming the whole time, the one he didn’t stand a chance of winning.
Considering how Tyler was at least six inches shorter than him in the Guv’s book, Gene wasn’t at all sure how they were eyeballing like this, nor how long they’d been doing it. Martin Buchan’s right leg ticked away the moments before the first punch fell.
But then with a growl Tyler pushed himself away and started scrabbling at his own shirt buttons.
‘You leave now, Gene, and you can forget about me showing up in the office on Monday. Or Tuesday. Or Wednesday or any other fucking day.’
Still fixed motionless to the wall without the aid of any suspicious sticky substances, the last thing Gene wanted to see was Tyler’s naked chest. Thankfully it disappeared pretty quickly on what appeared to be yet another tour of the bathroom.
‘I’m going to clean up. You know where the booze is as well as anyone. Help yourself. And if you’re not still here when I get back I’ll bloody kill you!’
*´¨)
¸.•´¸.•*´¨) ¸.•*¨)
(¸.•´ (¸.•´
The coat had disappeared but thank Christ Gene was still there, perched nervously on the edge of an armchair, glass in hand and bottle within reach. Not that he seemed to be getting through it particularly fast for once.
‘Hey…’
Whatever expression the upward glance had borne was immediately overwhelmed by a grimace of disgust.
‘For fuck’s sake put some clothes on, Tyler.’
The glass was drained and replenished again.
‘What? What d’you mean?’
‘You’ve got a towel - use it. Cover yourself up.’
Sam stared at Gene’s bowed head and slowly complied with the request.
‘What’s the problem? It’s not like you haven’t seen me in all my glory before.’
‘Yeah. Exactly.’
More whisky wasn’t there any more.
Sam sat down on the sofa and tried to work out what the hell was going on.
‘Gene, please… I’m glad you didn’t go, bloody glad. But why…? I thought…’
‘Yeah, well you thought wrong didn’t you, Tyler. Like usual.’
Sam’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly, then he steeled himself and took a deep breath.
‘I think before you have any more to drink you’d better do some explaining, don’t you? Because I have absolutely no bloody idea what’s going on here. Twice now you’ve said you want me back, and not just as your DI. Twice! And the first time you left me in more than the lurch. Now I don’t know what the hell you’re playing at this time, Gene, but whatever it is you’d better start talking and make it good. You say you want me back, you bend over backwards to get me here, sort out this fucking amazing place for me and…’
‘You like it?’
‘Course I fucking like it! It's got a balcony and a fantastic view. You can see the river and the Cathedral. What sort of ungrateful little prick do you think I am?’
‘Thought you hated it. Weren’t exactly your usual gobby self with the flowery plaudits, were you?’
Sam helped himself to bottle and glass, leant back, and dared what might have passed for a smile.
‘Shit, Gene, you should know me better than that. I get mouthy when I’m worked up, not when I’m overwhelmed. It’s bloody fantastic! I love it! How the hell could you ever think otherwise? Come off it - you know where I was living before, here and in Norwich.’
‘Yeah. Right. I see…’
‘So we’re okay then, you and me? Yeah?’
‘Yeah… S'pose…’
‘So… Why don’t you heave your gorgeous arse over here and join me?’
And that’s when the shutters went up again. It would be so bloody easy to lose his temper, give in to all the frustration and confusion, but right now there was too much at stake to take that risk. Then again, Gene wasn’t exactly going to open up to the tender touch either.
‘Gene? You going to tell me or am I going to have to beat it out of you? I love the flat, it’s fantastic, everything I could ever want. Except for one thing.’
That got some sort of response.
‘It hasn’t got you in it. Not the you I was hoping for, and certainly not the one I’d been led to expect. You’re staying here tonight whether you like it or not, and I would much prefer it if you liked it. I’m all nice and clean, now it’s your turn. Give me your shirt, it’s got Litton’s blood all over it and probably his snot too considering where you walloped him. I’ll put it in to soak. You go soak yourself and do a bit of thinking while you’re at it, okay?’
He stood up, pulling the towel close around him, and held out a hand for the shirt. Gene fumbled awkwardly at the top button but got nowhere fast.
‘Here, let me…’
‘Gerroff, Tyler! Fucking leave me alone!’
Almost all too much this time.
‘Tell me, Gene. Now. Or that’s it. Over before it started. The flat comes with the job, but the flat has to include you too. No you - no me. Understand? I’m not joking here. Last chance. Tell me what the fuck is up with you and we get it sorted or you’re looking for a new DI on Monday.’
He could almost see the words sinking in, Gene soaking them up, chewing them over, and then finally, finally…
‘Third time I’ve seen you naked, Tyler…’
‘Yeah, I know. So what’s the problem? Thought you liked it, liked me.’
‘Well… Can’t help but… Feels like… You’re a hat-trick up on me here, Tyler…’
Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid in the great scheme of things. But such a very big thing for the Guv.
‘Dunno about that.’
Gene looked up, puzzled.
‘What d'you mean?’
‘Well, I got to see just about all of you loping along the towpath in your skimpies that time, didn’t I?’
‘Yeah. S'pose so.’
‘So?’
‘Not exactly in the altogether though, is it?’
‘Luckily I’m good at jigsaws.’
‘What the fuck you on about now? And give me that whisky back. I bought it in the first place after all.’
‘Did you? Thought that was WPC Jean Wotserface.’
‘You know damn well!’
‘Course I do!’
‘Yeah, well. What you on about jigsaws for?’
‘Like I said, I’m good at them. Good at putting all the pieces together, working out where they fit, seeing the bigger picture.’
‘Spit it out, Tyler.’
‘That’s more like the Guv I know and love, you daft bugger! Doesn’t take much of an imagination to merge naked-Gene-running-along-in-his-swimming- trunks and clothed-Gene’s-great-big-cock-coming-at-my-gob-with-wicked-intentions-on-its-mind. I’ve seen you naked all right, mentally maybe, but oh yeah! I know what the bits are and where they fit together!’
Sam hoped and prayed that the ensuing silence was simply the Guv bidding a thankful farewell to his groundless fears. When Gene finally spoke, it was from the depths of an emptying glass.
‘Huh! Still isn’t three though, is it?’
‘Is actually. If you count me spying on you in the changing rooms at the pool.’
‘You fucking what?’
‘Needed to see that arse in all its glory. And it is glorious, Gene, believe me. And I’d like to see it again. But clean. So you go get yourself in that shower and don’t come out again until you’re in a half-way decent mood and prepared to cope with the shock of us both being naked. Together.’
*´¨)
¸.•´¸.•*´¨) ¸.•*¨)
(¸.•´ (¸.•´
‘This is one hell of a bloody good bed.’
‘Told you. Chose it myself.’
‘You make some good choices now and again, Gene, you know.’
‘Course I do. I’m the Gene Genie, I am!’
‘And don’t you forget it! Don’t you go all Mister Morose on me again or there’ll be serious trouble! I don’t like it, don’t want it and, shit Gene, I can’t cope with it. Okay?’
‘Wasn’t morose. Just a bit tired. And I haven’t had any supper. Could murder some 'oops.’
‘Well you’re not getting any! If you eat now you’ll just get indigestion. You’ve had plenty of calories from the whisky, that’ll have to do until breakfast.’
‘Coco Pops.’
‘You what?’
‘There’s Coco Pops for breakfast. My favourite.’
‘Give me strength!’
‘They do. Coco Monkey says so.’
‘Bloody hell, bring back Mister Morose, please!’
‘Nah - you don’t want him. You said so. You like me far better.’
‘That I do. I’m glad you stayed, Gene. Fuck, I don’t know what I’d have done if you’d have walked out. Not now. Not after all we’ve been through. And not after I’ve got my bloody fantastic flat.’
‘Sam?’
‘Yeah?’
‘I know it looks like I’m buying you with this…’
‘Yeah. It does. But you’re not. I know. I do know, Gene.’
‘Bit naked though…’
‘Oh shit! Not again! We’ve been through all this already!’
‘Not me, div, the walls. Didn’t think you’d appreciate one of them bloody crying cats or Chinese slags from Woolies.’
‘You’re right I wouldn’t!’
‘Thought you’d like to get some stuff for yourself.’
‘Thanks. I’ll go round to the City Gallery and see if they’ve got some good posters. Hey! We could go together, tomorrow, see if they’ve got any hot male nudes to inspire us! What d’you think? You up for it?’
‘Nope.’
‘Okay. Sorry. I’ll go by myself then. Not your kind of thing, really, fine art, is it?’
‘S’not that.’
‘Oh? What is it then?’
‘The hot male nudes…’
‘What about them?’
‘City Gallery’s not the place. Where you really want to go for them is the Whitworth, believe me…’
###
AN: Further crackingly good adventures of Sam and Gene and the new flat can be found at All’s Well That Ends Well courtesy of jean_genie!
Author: fawsley
Characters: Gene/Sam
Rating: blue Cortina
Word Count: 2250 - bloody long epilogue! More like part six!
Disclaimer: All the property of BBC and Kudos
Note: For draycevixen, who has for bloody ages been poking me with that pokey stick of hers about an epilogue to Things fall apart. And after she gave me a good hard shove via ausmac's LJ earlier this evening, I sat down and damn well wrote it for her!
If you haven't already read Things fall apart I'm afraid you really do have to before setting out on this one or it just won't make any sense at all. Links to all five (not very long) parts are here:
1: A Keystone Cop
2: Norfolk Bronze
3: Five minutes with me and you'll sing like a canary
4: The talented Mr Hunt
5 : The second coming
Hot male nudes
Sam hadn’t said anything at all for at least ten minutes, simply wandered back and forth wearing the same slightly confused, slightly deranged expression he’d had plastered across his face that first day. Gene trailed silently behind, wondering whether, like that first day, Sam was going to try to pick a fight with him. He hoped not, because this time he wasn’t at all sure that he’d find himself on the winning side.
Fourth circuit of the living room.
It had seemed such a good idea at the time. The time when he dreamed about luring Tyler back to his side and maybe even more, the time when he played at making a perfect place for Sammy to live. His fantasy Sammy, the Sammy who smiled and did and said just what Gene wanted him to on cue.
Not this flesh and blood Sammy who looked at everything without a word on his lips.
Back to the bathroom.
He wasn’t sure now when he’d lost control over all this. Must have been some considerable time ago. Probably on his third circuit of Norwich when he finally got that call through and thought he was heading off up the A47 towards King’s Lynn but instead found himself back outside that poxy shit-hole of an excuse for a flat, biting his nails down to the quick as he waited for DCI Dumpling and his equally floury-faced sidekicks to show up.
No, oh no… Not the bedroom again, for fuck’s sake.
Even back there at the office this evening, on his own turf, even then it hadn’t been right. Tyler had tricked him, the little shit, laid it bare that he wasn’t the Guv of this particular comedy of errors. If Litton hadn’t put in an appearance he wasn’t at all certain that he could have maintained any semblance of composure for much longer.
It had been a mistake, a great big huge fucking enormous mistake, to tell Tyler about this place. Even worse to actually bring him here. Stupid stupid stupid. Now he had to work out how to leave as quickly and as painlessly as possible. But then, back in the kitchen for the upteenth time, Sam came to a sudden halt and turned to face his follower.
‘You did this for me?’
Gene stuffed his hands into his pockets, harrumphed, looked away at the view out of the opened French window, wondered how much it would hurt if he jumped.
‘Yeah… No… Sort of…’
‘Make up your mind, Gene!’
‘Goes with the job. Whoever’s job…’
‘Lot of effort for whoever.’
‘Eh? What?’
‘You said you’d chosen the bed yourself…’
‘Yeah, well, said all sorts of stuff…’
‘Don’t think I haven’t noticed the ashtray and coasters and even the clock for fuck’s sake. Seems whoever is expected to be a United fan…’
‘Swiped ‘em from a pub.’
‘And there’s a fully stocked larder…’
‘Got a plonk to get some stuff in.’
‘You must introduce me, I’d like to thank her in person.’
‘Christ, Tyler, I don’t know. Just some plonk. Doesn’t matter. They’re all the bloody same.’
‘S’okay. I reckon I know her name already.’
‘You do?’
‘Yeah. I’m a DI after all, and she’s left her fingerprints all over the place.’
‘She has?’
Gene hoped his gulp wasn’t too audible.
Sam disappeared into a cupboard and reappeared clutching the evidence.
‘Pink wafers, Boddingtons, hoops, family pack of Curly Wurlies… So who’s responsible? WPC Jean-with-a-J or DCI Gene-with-a-G, eh?’
‘Fuck off, Tyler and I’ll do the same. Please yourself. If you don’t like it you know where you can bloody stuff it.’
Gene grabbed his coat from its resting place on the back of a chair and pushed past Tyler towards the hallway, only to be grappled back against the wall by the lapels and here was that fight at last, the fight he’d known was coming the whole time, the one he didn’t stand a chance of winning.
Considering how Tyler was at least six inches shorter than him in the Guv’s book, Gene wasn’t at all sure how they were eyeballing like this, nor how long they’d been doing it. Martin Buchan’s right leg ticked away the moments before the first punch fell.
But then with a growl Tyler pushed himself away and started scrabbling at his own shirt buttons.
‘You leave now, Gene, and you can forget about me showing up in the office on Monday. Or Tuesday. Or Wednesday or any other fucking day.’
Still fixed motionless to the wall without the aid of any suspicious sticky substances, the last thing Gene wanted to see was Tyler’s naked chest. Thankfully it disappeared pretty quickly on what appeared to be yet another tour of the bathroom.
‘I’m going to clean up. You know where the booze is as well as anyone. Help yourself. And if you’re not still here when I get back I’ll bloody kill you!’
*´¨)
¸.•´¸.•*´¨) ¸.•*¨)
(¸.•´ (¸.•´
The coat had disappeared but thank Christ Gene was still there, perched nervously on the edge of an armchair, glass in hand and bottle within reach. Not that he seemed to be getting through it particularly fast for once.
‘Hey…’
Whatever expression the upward glance had borne was immediately overwhelmed by a grimace of disgust.
‘For fuck’s sake put some clothes on, Tyler.’
The glass was drained and replenished again.
‘What? What d’you mean?’
‘You’ve got a towel - use it. Cover yourself up.’
Sam stared at Gene’s bowed head and slowly complied with the request.
‘What’s the problem? It’s not like you haven’t seen me in all my glory before.’
‘Yeah. Exactly.’
More whisky wasn’t there any more.
Sam sat down on the sofa and tried to work out what the hell was going on.
‘Gene, please… I’m glad you didn’t go, bloody glad. But why…? I thought…’
‘Yeah, well you thought wrong didn’t you, Tyler. Like usual.’
Sam’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly, then he steeled himself and took a deep breath.
‘I think before you have any more to drink you’d better do some explaining, don’t you? Because I have absolutely no bloody idea what’s going on here. Twice now you’ve said you want me back, and not just as your DI. Twice! And the first time you left me in more than the lurch. Now I don’t know what the hell you’re playing at this time, Gene, but whatever it is you’d better start talking and make it good. You say you want me back, you bend over backwards to get me here, sort out this fucking amazing place for me and…’
‘You like it?’
‘Course I fucking like it! It's got a balcony and a fantastic view. You can see the river and the Cathedral. What sort of ungrateful little prick do you think I am?’
‘Thought you hated it. Weren’t exactly your usual gobby self with the flowery plaudits, were you?’
Sam helped himself to bottle and glass, leant back, and dared what might have passed for a smile.
‘Shit, Gene, you should know me better than that. I get mouthy when I’m worked up, not when I’m overwhelmed. It’s bloody fantastic! I love it! How the hell could you ever think otherwise? Come off it - you know where I was living before, here and in Norwich.’
‘Yeah. Right. I see…’
‘So we’re okay then, you and me? Yeah?’
‘Yeah… S'pose…’
‘So… Why don’t you heave your gorgeous arse over here and join me?’
And that’s when the shutters went up again. It would be so bloody easy to lose his temper, give in to all the frustration and confusion, but right now there was too much at stake to take that risk. Then again, Gene wasn’t exactly going to open up to the tender touch either.
‘Gene? You going to tell me or am I going to have to beat it out of you? I love the flat, it’s fantastic, everything I could ever want. Except for one thing.’
That got some sort of response.
‘It hasn’t got you in it. Not the you I was hoping for, and certainly not the one I’d been led to expect. You’re staying here tonight whether you like it or not, and I would much prefer it if you liked it. I’m all nice and clean, now it’s your turn. Give me your shirt, it’s got Litton’s blood all over it and probably his snot too considering where you walloped him. I’ll put it in to soak. You go soak yourself and do a bit of thinking while you’re at it, okay?’
He stood up, pulling the towel close around him, and held out a hand for the shirt. Gene fumbled awkwardly at the top button but got nowhere fast.
‘Here, let me…’
‘Gerroff, Tyler! Fucking leave me alone!’
Almost all too much this time.
‘Tell me, Gene. Now. Or that’s it. Over before it started. The flat comes with the job, but the flat has to include you too. No you - no me. Understand? I’m not joking here. Last chance. Tell me what the fuck is up with you and we get it sorted or you’re looking for a new DI on Monday.’
He could almost see the words sinking in, Gene soaking them up, chewing them over, and then finally, finally…
‘Third time I’ve seen you naked, Tyler…’
‘Yeah, I know. So what’s the problem? Thought you liked it, liked me.’
‘Well… Can’t help but… Feels like… You’re a hat-trick up on me here, Tyler…’
Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid in the great scheme of things. But such a very big thing for the Guv.
‘Dunno about that.’
Gene looked up, puzzled.
‘What d'you mean?’
‘Well, I got to see just about all of you loping along the towpath in your skimpies that time, didn’t I?’
‘Yeah. S'pose so.’
‘So?’
‘Not exactly in the altogether though, is it?’
‘Luckily I’m good at jigsaws.’
‘What the fuck you on about now? And give me that whisky back. I bought it in the first place after all.’
‘Did you? Thought that was WPC Jean Wotserface.’
‘You know damn well!’
‘Course I do!’
‘Yeah, well. What you on about jigsaws for?’
‘Like I said, I’m good at them. Good at putting all the pieces together, working out where they fit, seeing the bigger picture.’
‘Spit it out, Tyler.’
‘That’s more like the Guv I know and love, you daft bugger! Doesn’t take much of an imagination to merge naked-Gene-running-along-in-his-swimming- trunks and clothed-Gene’s-great-big-cock-coming-at-my-gob-with-wicked-intentions-on-its-mind. I’ve seen you naked all right, mentally maybe, but oh yeah! I know what the bits are and where they fit together!’
Sam hoped and prayed that the ensuing silence was simply the Guv bidding a thankful farewell to his groundless fears. When Gene finally spoke, it was from the depths of an emptying glass.
‘Huh! Still isn’t three though, is it?’
‘Is actually. If you count me spying on you in the changing rooms at the pool.’
‘You fucking what?’
‘Needed to see that arse in all its glory. And it is glorious, Gene, believe me. And I’d like to see it again. But clean. So you go get yourself in that shower and don’t come out again until you’re in a half-way decent mood and prepared to cope with the shock of us both being naked. Together.’
*´¨)
¸.•´¸.•*´¨) ¸.•*¨)
(¸.•´ (¸.•´
‘This is one hell of a bloody good bed.’
‘Told you. Chose it myself.’
‘You make some good choices now and again, Gene, you know.’
‘Course I do. I’m the Gene Genie, I am!’
‘And don’t you forget it! Don’t you go all Mister Morose on me again or there’ll be serious trouble! I don’t like it, don’t want it and, shit Gene, I can’t cope with it. Okay?’
‘Wasn’t morose. Just a bit tired. And I haven’t had any supper. Could murder some 'oops.’
‘Well you’re not getting any! If you eat now you’ll just get indigestion. You’ve had plenty of calories from the whisky, that’ll have to do until breakfast.’
‘Coco Pops.’
‘You what?’
‘There’s Coco Pops for breakfast. My favourite.’
‘Give me strength!’
‘They do. Coco Monkey says so.’
‘Bloody hell, bring back Mister Morose, please!’
‘Nah - you don’t want him. You said so. You like me far better.’
‘That I do. I’m glad you stayed, Gene. Fuck, I don’t know what I’d have done if you’d have walked out. Not now. Not after all we’ve been through. And not after I’ve got my bloody fantastic flat.’
‘Sam?’
‘Yeah?’
‘I know it looks like I’m buying you with this…’
‘Yeah. It does. But you’re not. I know. I do know, Gene.’
‘Bit naked though…’
‘Oh shit! Not again! We’ve been through all this already!’
‘Not me, div, the walls. Didn’t think you’d appreciate one of them bloody crying cats or Chinese slags from Woolies.’
‘You’re right I wouldn’t!’
‘Thought you’d like to get some stuff for yourself.’
‘Thanks. I’ll go round to the City Gallery and see if they’ve got some good posters. Hey! We could go together, tomorrow, see if they’ve got any hot male nudes to inspire us! What d’you think? You up for it?’
‘Nope.’
‘Okay. Sorry. I’ll go by myself then. Not your kind of thing, really, fine art, is it?’
‘S’not that.’
‘Oh? What is it then?’
‘The hot male nudes…’
‘What about them?’
‘City Gallery’s not the place. Where you really want to go for them is the Whitworth, believe me…’
###
AN: Further crackingly good adventures of Sam and Gene and the new flat can be found at All’s Well That Ends Well courtesy of jean_genie!