Fic: The Kept Man (1/40), blue cortina, dakfinv
Title: The Kept Man (1/40)
Author: dak
Word Count: 762
Rating: blue cortina, but will go up to brown eventually
Spoilers: 1.04
Pairing: Sam/Warren, Sam/Gene (eventually)
Summary: AU. Sam woke up with amnesia when he landed in 1973, able to only remember his name, and ended up in the grasp of Stephen Warren. When he and Gene Hunt finally cross paths it starts a chain of events that will either save Sam or damn him.
A/N: This part is really just an introduction, hence why it's so short. I'm already accepting the fact that this is going to turn into one of those massive fics that consumes my life. Shorter than my super-angst monster but longer than Coffin for Sam. The idea is not originally mine but comes from
talcat (who wrote a drabble of it, which I'll try to find and add a link to) via
culf who assured me that talcat "said I could give you one of her ideas that she never did." I warned you not to get used to the fluff. Please enjoy!
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40
The first time DCI Hunt saw him was during PC Mallows’ bachelor party at the Warren. At first, Gene thought he was simply another nightly reveler joining in the fun. Some young businessman cutting loose, probably for the first time since he left university. He ignored him.
The second time Gene saw him was at a smaller function. It was a Tuesday night and Warren had offered Hunt’s officers free passes just to get some activity into his club on its emptiest night. With less dancers crowding the floor, Gene could observe with more clarity how the man was interacting with Warren’s girls.
He wasn’t flirting, not like the other customers, but speaking with them, having a conversation, sharing in their carefully concealed woes. Gene didn’t know why, maybe as a seasoned copper it was in his nature to continuously observe, but as he sipped his drink at the bar, he couldn’t take his eyes off the man.
Once he had realized the lad wasn’t the typical patron he had originally taken him for, Warren’s well-known sexual proclivities came to mind. Gene took a closer look. Muscular but lean, not a Charlie Edwards-type bruiser, with a face much younger than his true age would suggest. It all clicked into place and Gene suddenly knew what this boy was kept for.
When Edwards himself descended the stairwell and tapped the mysterious lad’s shoulder, interrupting his conversation with Joni, (Gene thought her name was), Hunt noticed the blank expression that immediately clouded his face and watched as he headed up the stairs, head low and hands in his pockets.
Gene pitied him. This wasn’t a situation the lad wanted to be in. Maybe he hadn’t had a choice. Maybe he’d been forced. Whatever the reason, Gene could see how it was already starting to eat the man up inside, a little animal tearing at his innards. For a brief moment, a split second, a passing thought which should not even have been acknowledged took hold of his mind. Gene wanted to free him.
But who should be foolish enough to cross Stephen Warren?
*
The first time Sam saw him was on a Saturday night, the club’s busiest, made even worse because of some bachelor party for one of the local coppers. Sam saw this brute making a fool of himself in the center of the dance floor, drawing all the attention towards him, while the actual subject of the party sat to the side with what, Sam assumed, were some of his closest mates. No one made fun of this man. No one questioned him. Sam decided he must be the one in charge. He ignored him.
The second time Sam saw him was on an early Monday afternoon after giving Warren his morning blow-job. He had brushed his teeth but was still trying to get the horrid taste out. Thinking a stiff drink would do the trick, he headed towards the staircase right by Warren’s office, the one let led directly to the bar.
Unusually, the door to the office had been left open and Sam, though he couldn’t explain why, let his curiosity get the better of him and hid outside the room, listening in. He couldn’t make out what was being said so risked a glance inside. He didn’t think he’d be noticed. Warren only noticed him when he wanted to.
Though the man’s back was towards him, he still recognized his tall frame and blonde hair. The coat, too, looked familiar. Sam didn’t remember ever seeing another one like it since he got here. Warren said something with a smirk, the same smirk he used when he knew he was going to get his way. The same smirk he got whenever he told Sam to bend over.
The larger man, the copper, glanced away, something akin to submission passing over his face and he nodded his head as he accepted something, money no doubt, from Warren’s hand. At that moment, Sam no longer saw the brute, attention seeking Neanderthal he first noticed on the dance floor. All he saw was a bent copper being torn apart by the choices he’d made.
Sam pitied him. This wasn’t a situation he wanted to be in. Maybe he hadn’t had a choice. Maybe he’d been forced. Whatever the reason, Sam could see how it was eating him up inside, destroying him like a cancer. For a brief moment, a split second, a passing thought which should not even have been acknowledged took hold of his mind. Sam wanted to free him.
But who should be foolish enough to cross Stephen Warren?
_______
Part 2
Author: dak
Word Count: 762
Rating: blue cortina, but will go up to brown eventually
Spoilers: 1.04
Pairing: Sam/Warren, Sam/Gene (eventually)
Summary: AU. Sam woke up with amnesia when he landed in 1973, able to only remember his name, and ended up in the grasp of Stephen Warren. When he and Gene Hunt finally cross paths it starts a chain of events that will either save Sam or damn him.
A/N: This part is really just an introduction, hence why it's so short. I'm already accepting the fact that this is going to turn into one of those massive fics that consumes my life. Shorter than my super-angst monster but longer than Coffin for Sam. The idea is not originally mine but comes from
talcat (who wrote a drabble of it, which I'll try to find and add a link to) via
culf who assured me that talcat "said I could give you one of her ideas that she never did." I warned you not to get used to the fluff. Please enjoy!
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40
The first time DCI Hunt saw him was during PC Mallows’ bachelor party at the Warren. At first, Gene thought he was simply another nightly reveler joining in the fun. Some young businessman cutting loose, probably for the first time since he left university. He ignored him.
The second time Gene saw him was at a smaller function. It was a Tuesday night and Warren had offered Hunt’s officers free passes just to get some activity into his club on its emptiest night. With less dancers crowding the floor, Gene could observe with more clarity how the man was interacting with Warren’s girls.
He wasn’t flirting, not like the other customers, but speaking with them, having a conversation, sharing in their carefully concealed woes. Gene didn’t know why, maybe as a seasoned copper it was in his nature to continuously observe, but as he sipped his drink at the bar, he couldn’t take his eyes off the man.
Once he had realized the lad wasn’t the typical patron he had originally taken him for, Warren’s well-known sexual proclivities came to mind. Gene took a closer look. Muscular but lean, not a Charlie Edwards-type bruiser, with a face much younger than his true age would suggest. It all clicked into place and Gene suddenly knew what this boy was kept for.
When Edwards himself descended the stairwell and tapped the mysterious lad’s shoulder, interrupting his conversation with Joni, (Gene thought her name was), Hunt noticed the blank expression that immediately clouded his face and watched as he headed up the stairs, head low and hands in his pockets.
Gene pitied him. This wasn’t a situation the lad wanted to be in. Maybe he hadn’t had a choice. Maybe he’d been forced. Whatever the reason, Gene could see how it was already starting to eat the man up inside, a little animal tearing at his innards. For a brief moment, a split second, a passing thought which should not even have been acknowledged took hold of his mind. Gene wanted to free him.
But who should be foolish enough to cross Stephen Warren?
*
The first time Sam saw him was on a Saturday night, the club’s busiest, made even worse because of some bachelor party for one of the local coppers. Sam saw this brute making a fool of himself in the center of the dance floor, drawing all the attention towards him, while the actual subject of the party sat to the side with what, Sam assumed, were some of his closest mates. No one made fun of this man. No one questioned him. Sam decided he must be the one in charge. He ignored him.
The second time Sam saw him was on an early Monday afternoon after giving Warren his morning blow-job. He had brushed his teeth but was still trying to get the horrid taste out. Thinking a stiff drink would do the trick, he headed towards the staircase right by Warren’s office, the one let led directly to the bar.
Unusually, the door to the office had been left open and Sam, though he couldn’t explain why, let his curiosity get the better of him and hid outside the room, listening in. He couldn’t make out what was being said so risked a glance inside. He didn’t think he’d be noticed. Warren only noticed him when he wanted to.
Though the man’s back was towards him, he still recognized his tall frame and blonde hair. The coat, too, looked familiar. Sam didn’t remember ever seeing another one like it since he got here. Warren said something with a smirk, the same smirk he used when he knew he was going to get his way. The same smirk he got whenever he told Sam to bend over.
The larger man, the copper, glanced away, something akin to submission passing over his face and he nodded his head as he accepted something, money no doubt, from Warren’s hand. At that moment, Sam no longer saw the brute, attention seeking Neanderthal he first noticed on the dance floor. All he saw was a bent copper being torn apart by the choices he’d made.
Sam pitied him. This wasn’t a situation he wanted to be in. Maybe he hadn’t had a choice. Maybe he’d been forced. Whatever the reason, Sam could see how it was eating him up inside, destroying him like a cancer. For a brief moment, a split second, a passing thought which should not even have been acknowledged took hold of his mind. Sam wanted to free him.
But who should be foolish enough to cross Stephen Warren?
_______
Part 2