Fic: The Kept Man (4/40), brown cortina, dakfinv
Title: The Kept Man (4/40)
Author: dak
Word Count: 1556 this part; [5549 overall]
Rating: brown cortina
Warnings: angst, sexual situations, swearing
Spoilers: 1.04,1.05
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: From an idea from
talcat given via
culf. Yeah another post today. It's not like the angst monkeys have tied my brain to this fic and are controlling it by remote...or something. I swear....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
“Bloods just came back, Guv. It’s another one,” Ray handed him the paper.
“Shit.” Gene tore the paper from Carling’s hands and looked it over. “That makes four now.”
“They’re just junkies,” Ray shrugged and Hunt threw the paper back in his face.
“That are being murdered, DS Carling! What if the bastard that’s doin’ this decides to try his little technique on someone else, like young mums or idiot coppers. Then will it matter?”
“Sorry Guv,” Ray lowered his eyes.
Gene encroached upon his Sergeant, backing him into the support beam. “We’ve already let the Tripper and Keens murders go cold. I do not need another unsolved serial killer case on my books. Understood?”
Ray shook his head.
“Good. Now check what it says on your warrant card and try doing some detecting, Sergeant.” Gene stormed out of the bullpen, into the lift, and up to the top floor. He probably should have knocked but he was already inside before he thought of it. Superintendent Rathbone failed to act surprised.
“When am I getting a new DI, Frank?”
Rathbone took a deep breath and slowly lifted his eyes to meet Gene’s. “I’m reviewing a few applications, Hunt. Those qualified for the position are...scarce, to say the least.”
“What about Hyde? I thought you said they had some bloke over there who requested a transfer?”
“He apparently changed his mind, according to DCI Morgan.”
“Brilliant. Then let me bump up Carling and take a new DC from plod.”
“We’ve already discussed this, Gene. Ray Carling performs much better as a Sergeant than he ever would as an Inspector. You’ll have to make do.”
“I need another set of hands,” Gene demanded.
“You’ll have to make do,” Rathbone repeated and picked up another file. “And I don’t want to see you skulking around the PCs looking for any volunteers. They have their own duties to attend to.”
Gene stormed out of the office, skulked halfway down the corridor, then paused, before striding into the lift and taking it all the way down.
“Phyllis!” He shouted before he had even entered the lobby. “I need one of your plonks. What’s that one, smart bird with the degree an’ all. Cartwheel?”
“You mean WPC Cartwright, Guv?” Phyllis did not look amused as she filled out a charge sheet.
“Yeah. Send ‘er up to CID. And keep ‘er off other duties for awhile.” Gene headed back up the stairs behind the reception desk.
“This won’t get her into trouble, will it?”
“Don’t you trust me Phyllis?”
“About as far as I can throw yeh, Guv. And with the amount of butties you’ve been eatin’, that ain’t far.”
“You’re a right classy bird, Sergeant Dobbs.”
*
“Ow!”
“Stop being such a girl.”
“I am not a girl.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“Shut up.”
She dabbed at Sam’s cut forehead with a swab of antiseptic as he squirmed in front of her in his chair. “What happened anyway?” She asked with honest concern.
“I was just running this errand. These two men spotted me on my way back. Knew I worked for Warren. Jumped me,” he shrugged. “Do you really have to do that?”
“Almost done,” she drew back her hands. “I know I’ve got a plaster round here somewhere. How’d you get away?” She asked as she searched the floor for a bandage.
“I can hold my own in a fight, you know.”
“Sorry. Ah, found it.” She knelt in front of Sam and carefully secured the plaster over the raw cut.
“Thanks,” he smiled.
“I could kiss it and make it all better,” she teased.
“You’re too young for me, Joni.”
She rocked back on her heels and smirked at him. “You don’t even know how old you are, so how do you know you’re too old for me?”
“I feel too old for you,” Sam stood and paced around the chair, stretching his sore muscles.
“That’s because you just got the shite kicked out of you,” Joni pestered. Sam simply rolled his eyes and helped himself to some of the tea she had made for them. “Don’t you ever think about where you came from?”
“All the time,” he sighed as he slowly stirred in some sugar.
“Then why don’t you go looking?”
“For what?” He asked, spinning around and leaning back against the counter.
“I don’t know. For something familiar. For someone who knows you. Someone who could help.” She hugged her knees to her chest and looked up at him innocently.
“Maybe I left. Maybe I didn’t want to be found.” Sam stared into his tea without drinking it.
“Or maybe you were just on holiday and you had an accident. You don’t know, Sam.”
“No, I guess I don’t,” he smiled. “But do you really think Warren would let me leave now?” The hot mug warmed his hands. It was a comforting feeling.
“Would you? If you could,” Joni asked, keeping her eyes not on Sam but somewhere in the distance. Sam knew that look. He wore it himself nearly all the time.
“I can’t.”
“But, if you could,” she insisted.
“Would you?”
“I asked first,” she reminded him.
Sam tried to let his mind wander, staring into the dark tea as he tried to imagine where he might go, who might want to see him. His memories were as black and empty as the tea in his hands. “It’s no use thinking about it because I can’t.” He set the cup on the counter and made for the door. He still hadn’t showered yet. He could really use a shower.
“I’d like to travel one day. See the world, you know? Someplace sunny and warm.”
“So somewhere outside of England then?” Sam turned back and smiled.
“Yeah. Definitely. Maybe France or someplace even more exotic, like South America.”
“I hear Mexico’s nice.” Sam’s eyes glazed over, the beginnings of a memory starting to surface but never emerging.
“Yeah? From who?”
The possible moment of clarity passed and Sam snapped back to reality. “I have no idea,” he shrugged and headed back to his own room.
*
Gene stormed into The Warren, past the girls practicing their routine, up the stairs, and into the office, where the owner himself was calmly reviewing his bank statements, Charlie Edwards standing to the side.
“Mr. Hunt--”
“Keep your dog on a leash!” Gene shouted and pointed at Edwards.
“I beg your pardon?” Warren slowly lowered his paper.
“He can do what he needs to keep those on your patch in line but I get one more assault complaint from some place as far away as Blackley, I’m goin’ to pull ‘im in.” Gene kept his eyes locked on Edwards the entire time. Even Warren’s right hand man couldn’t contain the shiver of fear that came with being targeted by Gene Hunt.
“Who made the complaint this time?” Warren asked in a calm, steady voice.
Gene barked out a laugh. “You really think I’m going to tell you?”
“You really think you can tell me how to run my business?” Warren spat back.
“I don’t care how the fuck you do your business, Warren. Just keep it on your territory. You might own Hulme but the rest of this city is mine and I will act accordingly.” Gene hissed.
“As will I, Mr. Hunt,” Warren folded his hands on top of his desk.
“Detective. Chief. Inspector.” Gene turned and swept out of the office, filled with as much outrage as when he entered.
*
Sam had to stop in the hall on his way back to his room in order to catch his breath. He had never seen anyone stand up to Warren like that before. He didn’t actually think it was possible. He wouldn’t have thought it possible unless he hadn’t just witnessed it with his own eyes. His own eyes hidden by the outer door, stealing glances through the crack.
Yet in that moment, in that one electric moment, there had been someone stronger than Stephen Warren. Someone who challenged him and won. It wasn’t just anyone, either. It was a police officer. A man with power to actually change things. It took Sam a few minutes to realize why he was out of breath, to figure out this strange sensation that had suddenly overcome him. He finally recognized it as hope.
That night when he was called to Warren’s room, when he had to let Warren unbutton his shirt and slide his hands over his chest, when he had to kneel down and with delicate hands, slide down the zip on Warren’s trousers, when he had to take Warren into his mouth and swirl his tongue over the head of his cock, when he had to swallow it all down as Warren came hard at the back of his throat, it was the first time Sam didn’t pretend he wasn’t there. It was the first time he didn’t pretend it wasn’t happening. He pretended it was someone else, imagined a different man gasping above him, holding his head in place with a sturdy hand.
Warren pat him on the back and told Sam he had been in top form tonight. Even better than usual. Sam smiled politely and shuffled back to his room, letting his mind wander over the impossible possibilities. He even forgot to brush his teeth.
_________
Part 5
Author: dak
Word Count: 1556 this part; [5549 overall]
Rating: brown cortina
Warnings: angst, sexual situations, swearing
Spoilers: 1.04,1.05
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: From an idea from
talcat given via
culf. Yeah another post today. It's not like the angst monkeys have tied my brain to this fic and are controlling it by remote...or something. I swear....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
“Bloods just came back, Guv. It’s another one,” Ray handed him the paper.
“Shit.” Gene tore the paper from Carling’s hands and looked it over. “That makes four now.”
“They’re just junkies,” Ray shrugged and Hunt threw the paper back in his face.
“That are being murdered, DS Carling! What if the bastard that’s doin’ this decides to try his little technique on someone else, like young mums or idiot coppers. Then will it matter?”
“Sorry Guv,” Ray lowered his eyes.
Gene encroached upon his Sergeant, backing him into the support beam. “We’ve already let the Tripper and Keens murders go cold. I do not need another unsolved serial killer case on my books. Understood?”
Ray shook his head.
“Good. Now check what it says on your warrant card and try doing some detecting, Sergeant.” Gene stormed out of the bullpen, into the lift, and up to the top floor. He probably should have knocked but he was already inside before he thought of it. Superintendent Rathbone failed to act surprised.
“When am I getting a new DI, Frank?”
Rathbone took a deep breath and slowly lifted his eyes to meet Gene’s. “I’m reviewing a few applications, Hunt. Those qualified for the position are...scarce, to say the least.”
“What about Hyde? I thought you said they had some bloke over there who requested a transfer?”
“He apparently changed his mind, according to DCI Morgan.”
“Brilliant. Then let me bump up Carling and take a new DC from plod.”
“We’ve already discussed this, Gene. Ray Carling performs much better as a Sergeant than he ever would as an Inspector. You’ll have to make do.”
“I need another set of hands,” Gene demanded.
“You’ll have to make do,” Rathbone repeated and picked up another file. “And I don’t want to see you skulking around the PCs looking for any volunteers. They have their own duties to attend to.”
Gene stormed out of the office, skulked halfway down the corridor, then paused, before striding into the lift and taking it all the way down.
“Phyllis!” He shouted before he had even entered the lobby. “I need one of your plonks. What’s that one, smart bird with the degree an’ all. Cartwheel?”
“You mean WPC Cartwright, Guv?” Phyllis did not look amused as she filled out a charge sheet.
“Yeah. Send ‘er up to CID. And keep ‘er off other duties for awhile.” Gene headed back up the stairs behind the reception desk.
“This won’t get her into trouble, will it?”
“Don’t you trust me Phyllis?”
“About as far as I can throw yeh, Guv. And with the amount of butties you’ve been eatin’, that ain’t far.”
“You’re a right classy bird, Sergeant Dobbs.”
*
“Ow!”
“Stop being such a girl.”
“I am not a girl.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“Shut up.”
She dabbed at Sam’s cut forehead with a swab of antiseptic as he squirmed in front of her in his chair. “What happened anyway?” She asked with honest concern.
“I was just running this errand. These two men spotted me on my way back. Knew I worked for Warren. Jumped me,” he shrugged. “Do you really have to do that?”
“Almost done,” she drew back her hands. “I know I’ve got a plaster round here somewhere. How’d you get away?” She asked as she searched the floor for a bandage.
“I can hold my own in a fight, you know.”
“Sorry. Ah, found it.” She knelt in front of Sam and carefully secured the plaster over the raw cut.
“Thanks,” he smiled.
“I could kiss it and make it all better,” she teased.
“You’re too young for me, Joni.”
She rocked back on her heels and smirked at him. “You don’t even know how old you are, so how do you know you’re too old for me?”
“I feel too old for you,” Sam stood and paced around the chair, stretching his sore muscles.
“That’s because you just got the shite kicked out of you,” Joni pestered. Sam simply rolled his eyes and helped himself to some of the tea she had made for them. “Don’t you ever think about where you came from?”
“All the time,” he sighed as he slowly stirred in some sugar.
“Then why don’t you go looking?”
“For what?” He asked, spinning around and leaning back against the counter.
“I don’t know. For something familiar. For someone who knows you. Someone who could help.” She hugged her knees to her chest and looked up at him innocently.
“Maybe I left. Maybe I didn’t want to be found.” Sam stared into his tea without drinking it.
“Or maybe you were just on holiday and you had an accident. You don’t know, Sam.”
“No, I guess I don’t,” he smiled. “But do you really think Warren would let me leave now?” The hot mug warmed his hands. It was a comforting feeling.
“Would you? If you could,” Joni asked, keeping her eyes not on Sam but somewhere in the distance. Sam knew that look. He wore it himself nearly all the time.
“I can’t.”
“But, if you could,” she insisted.
“Would you?”
“I asked first,” she reminded him.
Sam tried to let his mind wander, staring into the dark tea as he tried to imagine where he might go, who might want to see him. His memories were as black and empty as the tea in his hands. “It’s no use thinking about it because I can’t.” He set the cup on the counter and made for the door. He still hadn’t showered yet. He could really use a shower.
“I’d like to travel one day. See the world, you know? Someplace sunny and warm.”
“So somewhere outside of England then?” Sam turned back and smiled.
“Yeah. Definitely. Maybe France or someplace even more exotic, like South America.”
“I hear Mexico’s nice.” Sam’s eyes glazed over, the beginnings of a memory starting to surface but never emerging.
“Yeah? From who?”
The possible moment of clarity passed and Sam snapped back to reality. “I have no idea,” he shrugged and headed back to his own room.
*
Gene stormed into The Warren, past the girls practicing their routine, up the stairs, and into the office, where the owner himself was calmly reviewing his bank statements, Charlie Edwards standing to the side.
“Mr. Hunt--”
“Keep your dog on a leash!” Gene shouted and pointed at Edwards.
“I beg your pardon?” Warren slowly lowered his paper.
“He can do what he needs to keep those on your patch in line but I get one more assault complaint from some place as far away as Blackley, I’m goin’ to pull ‘im in.” Gene kept his eyes locked on Edwards the entire time. Even Warren’s right hand man couldn’t contain the shiver of fear that came with being targeted by Gene Hunt.
“Who made the complaint this time?” Warren asked in a calm, steady voice.
Gene barked out a laugh. “You really think I’m going to tell you?”
“You really think you can tell me how to run my business?” Warren spat back.
“I don’t care how the fuck you do your business, Warren. Just keep it on your territory. You might own Hulme but the rest of this city is mine and I will act accordingly.” Gene hissed.
“As will I, Mr. Hunt,” Warren folded his hands on top of his desk.
“Detective. Chief. Inspector.” Gene turned and swept out of the office, filled with as much outrage as when he entered.
*
Sam had to stop in the hall on his way back to his room in order to catch his breath. He had never seen anyone stand up to Warren like that before. He didn’t actually think it was possible. He wouldn’t have thought it possible unless he hadn’t just witnessed it with his own eyes. His own eyes hidden by the outer door, stealing glances through the crack.
Yet in that moment, in that one electric moment, there had been someone stronger than Stephen Warren. Someone who challenged him and won. It wasn’t just anyone, either. It was a police officer. A man with power to actually change things. It took Sam a few minutes to realize why he was out of breath, to figure out this strange sensation that had suddenly overcome him. He finally recognized it as hope.
That night when he was called to Warren’s room, when he had to let Warren unbutton his shirt and slide his hands over his chest, when he had to kneel down and with delicate hands, slide down the zip on Warren’s trousers, when he had to take Warren into his mouth and swirl his tongue over the head of his cock, when he had to swallow it all down as Warren came hard at the back of his throat, it was the first time Sam didn’t pretend he wasn’t there. It was the first time he didn’t pretend it wasn’t happening. He pretended it was someone else, imagined a different man gasping above him, holding his head in place with a sturdy hand.
Warren pat him on the back and told Sam he had been in top form tonight. Even better than usual. Sam smiled politely and shuffled back to his room, letting his mind wander over the impossible possibilities. He even forgot to brush his teeth.
_________
Part 5