Fic: Damaged Goods, brown cortina, dak
Title: Damaged Goods
Author: dak
Word Count: 2011
Rating: brown cortina
Warnings: sexual situations, angst
Pairing: Sam/Gene (my first, official slashing of the boys!)
A/N: The angst half of mine and
culf's personal challenge. See her post, The Flesh is Willing, for the fun, happy, fluffy version. See my post for, well, angst.
It was dark, nearly pitch black, and Sam cursed himself for not remembering to bring a torch but why would he have bothered when it was noon and bright and sunny outside?
“Guv?” He called out.
“You really think he’s down here, Boss?” Chris asked nervously, bumping into DI Tyler when he hadn’t noticed the Inspector had stopped moving.
“What’re yeh sayin’ about my snouts, yeh div?” Ray growled, immediately offended.
“Nowt, Ray, but we’ve been lookin’ for a day an’--”
“ ‘E’ll be down ‘ere and ‘e’ll be fine--”
“We won’t know that if you two don’t shut the bloody hell up!” Sam hissed as, in the darkness, he strained to listen for any signs of life. After a day of being forced to play leader to a group who barely saw him as fit for second-in-command, the stress was beginning to take a toll on his normally calculated patience. Chris and Ray, however, immediately listened to his command and quieted down.
“Guv?” Sam tried again.
Nothing, then a moan up and to their left. Sam chased after the noise, his heart racing, until his hands hit a partially closed steel door.
“Guv? Are you in there?”
Another deep moan. Sam tried to push the heavy door open but he couldn’t see well and the bastard thing was refusing to budge. He turned himself sideways and slipped his slim frame through the crack between the rough cement and the cold steel. There was some light here, coming in through a few frosted, street-level windows. It wasn’t much but enough to outline the large figure tied to a chair in the center of the room.
“Guv!” Sam holstered the firearm he forgot he’d been holding and ran to his DCI’s side. He knelt down in front, trying to make himself eye-level with the semi-conscious man. Sam’s hands immediately reached out, touching Gene’s face, his shoulders, his chest, trying to locate any injuries. It was so damn dark.
“Guv? Gene. It’s Sam. Gene? Can you hear me?”
“...unfortunately...” he slurred and Sam allowed himself to relax, albeit slightly.
“We’re going to get you out of here, Gene. Hang on.” Sam turned to where he thought he remembered the door being. “Chris! Ray! He’s here. Get an ambulance!” Gene moaned again and Sam’s strong, professional facade cracked just a little. He ran behind the chair and felt for the binds holding his Guv down. The knots were tight, unyielding. Sam praised The Powers That Be that he remembered to grab his pocket knife this morning.
He carefully started to cut through with one hand, while guiding himself with the other, making sure he was only slicing through rope and not flesh. The knots, however, were the only thing holding Gene to the chair and as soon as Sam made the final cut, Gene slumped forward and fell to the ground.
“Shit.” Sam tucked the blade safely away and crawled over to the DCI’s unmoving body. He turned him over gently and could feel his chest rising and falling softly. He leaned over Gene’s face, stroking his cheek, trying to stir him awake. “Gene,” he whispered. “Gene, it’s Sammy.” Receiving no response, he bent down lower and brushed his lips against Gene’s, shuddering as he tasted blood.
“We’re...in public...you berk...”
“Barely,” Sam laughed to cover his nerves. “What did I tell you about always relaying your location to at least one other officer when going to speak to an informant on your own? There’s a reason we have those procedures in place, you know. It’s so shit like this doesn’t happen and we don’t have to delay our homicide investigation for a day because our Detective Chief Inspector goes missing without a word and nearly gets himself killed because of his own stubborn stupidity!”
A weak hand reached up and brushed itself across Sam’s face before collapsing back to the cold, gritty floor.
“What was that?”
“S’posed...be a slap...You were...gettin’ hysterical...Dorothy.”
“Tyler! Ambulance is here,” Ray shouted into the room.
“Get the drivers in here then DS Carling!” Sam rolled his eyes even though he knew it would go unseen in this darkness.
“ ‘Aven’t killed...each other...yet, then?” Gene grunted.
“We were getting close. Thank God we found you now. Another day and CID would’ve needed a new DS in addition to a new DCI.” Sam regretted the words immediately after he spoke them, realizing too late what he was inferring. Gene just chuckled.
“An’ a new...shaggin’ partner...”
Sam felt his eyes go wide as he heard the medics approaching the room. “We’re in public,” he whispered.
“...Barely...”
Though he couldn’t see it, he knew Gene was smirking. It wasn’t until his Guv finally slipped into unconsciousness and his hand went limp, that Sam noticed he’d been holding it with his own the whole time.
*
Whatever hope Sam had found in the darkness was erased as Gene and his injuries were rolled out into the harsh light of day. To say he was a mess would have been putting it mildly. Sam had seen train wrecks that looked more optimistic.
His face - the face that kissed him so passionately, the lips that would wrap themselves around his cock so tenderly - was swollen and bruised. His shirt - the blue one Sam had stripped him of only two nights prior in effort to scratch at the warm flesh underneath - was in tatters, so torn and bloody it barely resembled a shirt anymore but scraps of cloth that her thrown onto his skin. His right arm - the one so very adept at giving him a good quick wank in even the most inappropriate of places - was probably broken, judging by the unnatural angle at which it was laying on the stretcher.
What concerned Sam the most however was the thick, dark patch of blood spread over Gene’s groin. It was the area where the blood was most concentrated and Sam could only imagine the injuries that lay beneath. He decided to change his train of thought immediately and began barking orders at Ray, Chris, and whatever other officers he could find to get some lights down in that cellar, get forensics in, and get as much goddamned evidence as they could possibly find.
*
It had only been three days but Gene had already been demanding to be released from hospital. In fact, it was the only thing he wanted to discuss at all. He had kept his statement concerning the abduction brief. A bunch of knobs had grabbed him, knocked him out, and beat the shit out of him. End of story.
He would only share crude jokes with Carling and rude comments with Chris. Sam, well Sam he was barely speaking to at all and the Inspector was nothing if not confused. Gene had seemed emotionally alright when they found him but after being treated at the hospital, he had turned cold and distant. He only spoke to Sam in sentences of three words or less. If he used more, it was only because he was insulting him.
Even though he knew it could be PTSD, it was pissing Sam off more than anything else and on the third day, Tyler decided to call him on it. After being informed, yet again, that DCI Hunt had attempted to remove himself from his bed strictly against doctor’s orders, Sam stormed over to the flimsy curtain separating Gene from the real world and yanked it back so fast he nearly ripped it from the ceiling.
He stood in shock for a moment then quickly closed the curtain behind him once he realized what was happening. Gene had his good arm under the sheets, grunting softly as he tugged helplessly at the apparently unresponsive cock underneath.
Sam wasn’t really sure what to say. “Uhm...” he stuttered. “Want some help?”
Gene froze, a flash of terror passing behind his eyes and Sam knew how cruel his words must have sounded but he was still angry at Gene for treating him like a non-entity the last few days and tried not to care what effect his abrasive comment had made.
“Piss off.” Gene pulled the dry hand out from under the sheet and dropped it back on the bed, avoiding any and all eye contact.
Sam’s anger dissipated into guilt and he slowly strode over to Gene’s bedside. “I could, you know, help.” He placed a tender hand on Gene’s shoulder and the prone man flinched. Sam pulled back his hand.
“Leave it.” There was more hurt in his voice than anger. Sam held his ground.
“I don’t have to,” he let his fingers lightly trace themselves up and down Gene’s arm and this did, finally, elicit a positive response as Gene’s eyes shut and his breath quickened.
“Can’t. Me arm’s sore for tryin’,” he whispered with a trace of embarrassment.
Sam placed both hands on Gene’s left arm now and started massaging it soothingly, feeling the tense muscles relax under his ministrations.
“Sam...” Gene moaned softly and Sam took it as an invitation, keeping one hand on Gene’s arm, while the other slid underneath the stiff sheet. He was momentarily alarmed by the feeling of gauze and stitches where there should be just warmth and flesh but he didn’t let it stop his hand from finding its rightful place, wrapped firmly around Gene.
He began fisting him gently, knowing from plenty of experience how Gene preferred it done, then sped up his strokes, waiting patiently for the expected response. Gene groaned and hissed and tensed but his cock seemed completely unaware that Sam was attempting to wank him off.
Sam tried not to let his concern or worse, disappointment, show, so he kept at it, closing his own eyes, buckling down, moving faster and harder. He wasn’t going to let Gene down. He could do this for him. He would do this for him.
“Sam...”
He kept trying. He wouldn’t quit on Gene.
“Sam.”
He could this. He was going to finish this.
“Dammit Sam!” Gene painfully lurched up in the bed and aggressively shoved Sam away. The still limp flesh fell from the younger man’s determined hand as he stumbled backwards and dropped awkwardly and painfully into the plastic hospital chair behind him.
“Gene, I’m--”
“Docs already told me I probably couldn’t an’ I was just trying to prove ‘em wrong. Well you just proved ‘em right Sammy-boy, so thanks very much. Off you go. I’ll see you back at the station.” His voice was filled with barely controlled rage. While he couldn’t bring himself to look at Sam, Sam’s pained eyes refused to remove their glance from him.
“I don’t have to go. I can stay. We can talk about this. About...us.” Sam tried to get all the words out before Gene could cut him off again. They made just in time.
Gene snorted with harsh derision and stared Sam directly in the eye, no warmth, no kindness, no care. “There is no ‘us,’ Tyler. What you were was a decent shag. Never was much of one for cuddlin’ and kissin’ and seeing’s how that’s all I’ll ever be able to do anymore, might as well do it with a real bird ‘stead of a girly bloke like you.”
Sam couldn’t move at first. He sat there in the chair as his eyes drifted from Gene’s face, lower and lower until he was staring at the floor. He couldn’t see how Gene’s hardened face was crumbling the longer he had to look at Sam’s wounded expression. He couldn’t see how Gene’s hands were starting to tremble with the realization of what he had just done. He couldn’t see how much Gene wanted to take it all back but couldn’t find the courage to do so.
So, Sam clumsily picked himself out of the chair, keeping his eyes to the ground as he walked to the curtain. “See you at the station then. Guv.” Sam wandered out of the hospital and into the early evening sunlight. It was so damn dark.
___________
Followed by: Return to Sender
Author: dak
Word Count: 2011
Rating: brown cortina
Warnings: sexual situations, angst
Pairing: Sam/Gene (my first, official slashing of the boys!)
A/N: The angst half of mine and
culf's personal challenge. See her post, The Flesh is Willing, for the fun, happy, fluffy version. See my post for, well, angst.
It was dark, nearly pitch black, and Sam cursed himself for not remembering to bring a torch but why would he have bothered when it was noon and bright and sunny outside?
“Guv?” He called out.
“You really think he’s down here, Boss?” Chris asked nervously, bumping into DI Tyler when he hadn’t noticed the Inspector had stopped moving.
“What’re yeh sayin’ about my snouts, yeh div?” Ray growled, immediately offended.
“Nowt, Ray, but we’ve been lookin’ for a day an’--”
“ ‘E’ll be down ‘ere and ‘e’ll be fine--”
“We won’t know that if you two don’t shut the bloody hell up!” Sam hissed as, in the darkness, he strained to listen for any signs of life. After a day of being forced to play leader to a group who barely saw him as fit for second-in-command, the stress was beginning to take a toll on his normally calculated patience. Chris and Ray, however, immediately listened to his command and quieted down.
“Guv?” Sam tried again.
Nothing, then a moan up and to their left. Sam chased after the noise, his heart racing, until his hands hit a partially closed steel door.
“Guv? Are you in there?”
Another deep moan. Sam tried to push the heavy door open but he couldn’t see well and the bastard thing was refusing to budge. He turned himself sideways and slipped his slim frame through the crack between the rough cement and the cold steel. There was some light here, coming in through a few frosted, street-level windows. It wasn’t much but enough to outline the large figure tied to a chair in the center of the room.
“Guv!” Sam holstered the firearm he forgot he’d been holding and ran to his DCI’s side. He knelt down in front, trying to make himself eye-level with the semi-conscious man. Sam’s hands immediately reached out, touching Gene’s face, his shoulders, his chest, trying to locate any injuries. It was so damn dark.
“Guv? Gene. It’s Sam. Gene? Can you hear me?”
“...unfortunately...” he slurred and Sam allowed himself to relax, albeit slightly.
“We’re going to get you out of here, Gene. Hang on.” Sam turned to where he thought he remembered the door being. “Chris! Ray! He’s here. Get an ambulance!” Gene moaned again and Sam’s strong, professional facade cracked just a little. He ran behind the chair and felt for the binds holding his Guv down. The knots were tight, unyielding. Sam praised The Powers That Be that he remembered to grab his pocket knife this morning.
He carefully started to cut through with one hand, while guiding himself with the other, making sure he was only slicing through rope and not flesh. The knots, however, were the only thing holding Gene to the chair and as soon as Sam made the final cut, Gene slumped forward and fell to the ground.
“Shit.” Sam tucked the blade safely away and crawled over to the DCI’s unmoving body. He turned him over gently and could feel his chest rising and falling softly. He leaned over Gene’s face, stroking his cheek, trying to stir him awake. “Gene,” he whispered. “Gene, it’s Sammy.” Receiving no response, he bent down lower and brushed his lips against Gene’s, shuddering as he tasted blood.
“We’re...in public...you berk...”
“Barely,” Sam laughed to cover his nerves. “What did I tell you about always relaying your location to at least one other officer when going to speak to an informant on your own? There’s a reason we have those procedures in place, you know. It’s so shit like this doesn’t happen and we don’t have to delay our homicide investigation for a day because our Detective Chief Inspector goes missing without a word and nearly gets himself killed because of his own stubborn stupidity!”
A weak hand reached up and brushed itself across Sam’s face before collapsing back to the cold, gritty floor.
“What was that?”
“S’posed...be a slap...You were...gettin’ hysterical...Dorothy.”
“Tyler! Ambulance is here,” Ray shouted into the room.
“Get the drivers in here then DS Carling!” Sam rolled his eyes even though he knew it would go unseen in this darkness.
“ ‘Aven’t killed...each other...yet, then?” Gene grunted.
“We were getting close. Thank God we found you now. Another day and CID would’ve needed a new DS in addition to a new DCI.” Sam regretted the words immediately after he spoke them, realizing too late what he was inferring. Gene just chuckled.
“An’ a new...shaggin’ partner...”
Sam felt his eyes go wide as he heard the medics approaching the room. “We’re in public,” he whispered.
“...Barely...”
Though he couldn’t see it, he knew Gene was smirking. It wasn’t until his Guv finally slipped into unconsciousness and his hand went limp, that Sam noticed he’d been holding it with his own the whole time.
*
Whatever hope Sam had found in the darkness was erased as Gene and his injuries were rolled out into the harsh light of day. To say he was a mess would have been putting it mildly. Sam had seen train wrecks that looked more optimistic.
His face - the face that kissed him so passionately, the lips that would wrap themselves around his cock so tenderly - was swollen and bruised. His shirt - the blue one Sam had stripped him of only two nights prior in effort to scratch at the warm flesh underneath - was in tatters, so torn and bloody it barely resembled a shirt anymore but scraps of cloth that her thrown onto his skin. His right arm - the one so very adept at giving him a good quick wank in even the most inappropriate of places - was probably broken, judging by the unnatural angle at which it was laying on the stretcher.
What concerned Sam the most however was the thick, dark patch of blood spread over Gene’s groin. It was the area where the blood was most concentrated and Sam could only imagine the injuries that lay beneath. He decided to change his train of thought immediately and began barking orders at Ray, Chris, and whatever other officers he could find to get some lights down in that cellar, get forensics in, and get as much goddamned evidence as they could possibly find.
*
It had only been three days but Gene had already been demanding to be released from hospital. In fact, it was the only thing he wanted to discuss at all. He had kept his statement concerning the abduction brief. A bunch of knobs had grabbed him, knocked him out, and beat the shit out of him. End of story.
He would only share crude jokes with Carling and rude comments with Chris. Sam, well Sam he was barely speaking to at all and the Inspector was nothing if not confused. Gene had seemed emotionally alright when they found him but after being treated at the hospital, he had turned cold and distant. He only spoke to Sam in sentences of three words or less. If he used more, it was only because he was insulting him.
Even though he knew it could be PTSD, it was pissing Sam off more than anything else and on the third day, Tyler decided to call him on it. After being informed, yet again, that DCI Hunt had attempted to remove himself from his bed strictly against doctor’s orders, Sam stormed over to the flimsy curtain separating Gene from the real world and yanked it back so fast he nearly ripped it from the ceiling.
He stood in shock for a moment then quickly closed the curtain behind him once he realized what was happening. Gene had his good arm under the sheets, grunting softly as he tugged helplessly at the apparently unresponsive cock underneath.
Sam wasn’t really sure what to say. “Uhm...” he stuttered. “Want some help?”
Gene froze, a flash of terror passing behind his eyes and Sam knew how cruel his words must have sounded but he was still angry at Gene for treating him like a non-entity the last few days and tried not to care what effect his abrasive comment had made.
“Piss off.” Gene pulled the dry hand out from under the sheet and dropped it back on the bed, avoiding any and all eye contact.
Sam’s anger dissipated into guilt and he slowly strode over to Gene’s bedside. “I could, you know, help.” He placed a tender hand on Gene’s shoulder and the prone man flinched. Sam pulled back his hand.
“Leave it.” There was more hurt in his voice than anger. Sam held his ground.
“I don’t have to,” he let his fingers lightly trace themselves up and down Gene’s arm and this did, finally, elicit a positive response as Gene’s eyes shut and his breath quickened.
“Can’t. Me arm’s sore for tryin’,” he whispered with a trace of embarrassment.
Sam placed both hands on Gene’s left arm now and started massaging it soothingly, feeling the tense muscles relax under his ministrations.
“Sam...” Gene moaned softly and Sam took it as an invitation, keeping one hand on Gene’s arm, while the other slid underneath the stiff sheet. He was momentarily alarmed by the feeling of gauze and stitches where there should be just warmth and flesh but he didn’t let it stop his hand from finding its rightful place, wrapped firmly around Gene.
He began fisting him gently, knowing from plenty of experience how Gene preferred it done, then sped up his strokes, waiting patiently for the expected response. Gene groaned and hissed and tensed but his cock seemed completely unaware that Sam was attempting to wank him off.
Sam tried not to let his concern or worse, disappointment, show, so he kept at it, closing his own eyes, buckling down, moving faster and harder. He wasn’t going to let Gene down. He could do this for him. He would do this for him.
“Sam...”
He kept trying. He wouldn’t quit on Gene.
“Sam.”
He could this. He was going to finish this.
“Dammit Sam!” Gene painfully lurched up in the bed and aggressively shoved Sam away. The still limp flesh fell from the younger man’s determined hand as he stumbled backwards and dropped awkwardly and painfully into the plastic hospital chair behind him.
“Gene, I’m--”
“Docs already told me I probably couldn’t an’ I was just trying to prove ‘em wrong. Well you just proved ‘em right Sammy-boy, so thanks very much. Off you go. I’ll see you back at the station.” His voice was filled with barely controlled rage. While he couldn’t bring himself to look at Sam, Sam’s pained eyes refused to remove their glance from him.
“I don’t have to go. I can stay. We can talk about this. About...us.” Sam tried to get all the words out before Gene could cut him off again. They made just in time.
Gene snorted with harsh derision and stared Sam directly in the eye, no warmth, no kindness, no care. “There is no ‘us,’ Tyler. What you were was a decent shag. Never was much of one for cuddlin’ and kissin’ and seeing’s how that’s all I’ll ever be able to do anymore, might as well do it with a real bird ‘stead of a girly bloke like you.”
Sam couldn’t move at first. He sat there in the chair as his eyes drifted from Gene’s face, lower and lower until he was staring at the floor. He couldn’t see how Gene’s hardened face was crumbling the longer he had to look at Sam’s wounded expression. He couldn’t see how Gene’s hands were starting to tremble with the realization of what he had just done. He couldn’t see how much Gene wanted to take it all back but couldn’t find the courage to do so.
So, Sam clumsily picked himself out of the chair, keeping his eyes to the ground as he walked to the curtain. “See you at the station then. Guv.” Sam wandered out of the hospital and into the early evening sunlight. It was so damn dark.
___________
Followed by: Return to Sender