English > LoM/BP > Tyler/Carlisle > "The sparrow, the blackbird and a death of heart"
Title: The sparrow, the blackbird and a death of heart
Fandom: Life on Mars, Blackpool
Pairing: DCI Tyler/DI Carlisle
Category: Crossover, pre-series (both)
Warning: Slash, bad fake-Scots (I am so sorry)
Rating: Brown
Word Count: ?
Summary: A decision has been made.
Disclaimer: BBC owns all this.
In the sweet numbness and exhilaration of post-coital haze it took some time for Sam to realise what was different.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, trying to rearrange his sore and tired limbs. Looking up in that beautiful freckled face with those large, brown eyes, framed by messy, auburn hair he felt like in heaven - but then something in his chest clenched. “What’s wrong?”
His face was being framed by large, thin hands and a sloppy kiss placed on his lips. It wasn’t your usual post-shagging kiss, though.
“What’s wrong, Pete?”
The next moment dragged painfully into almost eternity. Peter’s ever-roaming, ever-restless hands only helped to prolong the silence in Sam’s head.
“Ah put in for transfer, Sam.”
It was like falling into a deep and dark abyss.
For a moment he felt nothing - then everything came crashing down on him. It didn’t make sense at first, though.
“Ah’m a DI, ye are me DCI. There is nae way we are going ta work things oot. Ye are a police officer, Ah am a police officer. Neither of us can stop being that. But then, we cannae work together as lovers and we cannae work together as… friends. Putting in for transfer doesn’t make it any easier. It means the same as breaking up, I know. But I cannae stay, I cannae go on like this, Sam. I need something real.”
Sam was blindly staring up at the ceiling, slowly processing what Pete had told him. The first sensory perception that hit him was the arm draped over his chest. It felt much like it used to, except for the tensing muscles underneath the smooth, pale skin. Turning his head Sam could see the back of Peter’s head, tousled brown hair taking up the whole of his field of vision.
“When?”
“Tomorrow. Blackpool.”
Sam contemplated what to say next. Maybe something sarcastic? ‘Moving back home on intervals?’ Maybe something hopeful like ‘Blackpool isn’t that far away, really’?
He sat up, slowly, careful not to twist Peter’s arm in the process, looking down on the limp hand and slowly enwinding his own with it.
Peter lay on his stomach, his head still turned away from Sam. He hardly responded, only squeezing Sam’s hand lightly.
And there the DCI knew that - although this transfer hurt both of them and keeping it secret had kept Peter in agony for just so long - it would happen, no matter what. Maybe Peter would even have gone through with it without Sam knowing at all - that is until Pete wouldn’t show up for work.
They had no future - but they had a present. And Sam had made a decision, too.
“Let’s just… make love tonight like it was the last time and pretend that it really isn’t. Let’s pretend that we’ll keep every single promise to phone and email and see each other on weekends. Let’s pretend that it really only is the sixty miles up to the coast. Let’s pretend that our hearts won’t be already an eternity apart before you even leave the county.”
>> Sequel: Who will take pity in his heart?
Fandom: Life on Mars, Blackpool
Pairing: DCI Tyler/DI Carlisle
Category: Crossover, pre-series (both)
Warning: Slash, bad fake-Scots (I am so sorry)
Rating: Brown
Word Count: ?
Summary: A decision has been made.
Disclaimer: BBC owns all this.
In the sweet numbness and exhilaration of post-coital haze it took some time for Sam to realise what was different.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, trying to rearrange his sore and tired limbs. Looking up in that beautiful freckled face with those large, brown eyes, framed by messy, auburn hair he felt like in heaven - but then something in his chest clenched. “What’s wrong?”
His face was being framed by large, thin hands and a sloppy kiss placed on his lips. It wasn’t your usual post-shagging kiss, though.
“What’s wrong, Pete?”
The next moment dragged painfully into almost eternity. Peter’s ever-roaming, ever-restless hands only helped to prolong the silence in Sam’s head.
“Ah put in for transfer, Sam.”
It was like falling into a deep and dark abyss.
For a moment he felt nothing - then everything came crashing down on him. It didn’t make sense at first, though.
“Ah’m a DI, ye are me DCI. There is nae way we are going ta work things oot. Ye are a police officer, Ah am a police officer. Neither of us can stop being that. But then, we cannae work together as lovers and we cannae work together as… friends. Putting in for transfer doesn’t make it any easier. It means the same as breaking up, I know. But I cannae stay, I cannae go on like this, Sam. I need something real.”
Sam was blindly staring up at the ceiling, slowly processing what Pete had told him. The first sensory perception that hit him was the arm draped over his chest. It felt much like it used to, except for the tensing muscles underneath the smooth, pale skin. Turning his head Sam could see the back of Peter’s head, tousled brown hair taking up the whole of his field of vision.
“When?”
“Tomorrow. Blackpool.”
Sam contemplated what to say next. Maybe something sarcastic? ‘Moving back home on intervals?’ Maybe something hopeful like ‘Blackpool isn’t that far away, really’?
He sat up, slowly, careful not to twist Peter’s arm in the process, looking down on the limp hand and slowly enwinding his own with it.
Peter lay on his stomach, his head still turned away from Sam. He hardly responded, only squeezing Sam’s hand lightly.
And there the DCI knew that - although this transfer hurt both of them and keeping it secret had kept Peter in agony for just so long - it would happen, no matter what. Maybe Peter would even have gone through with it without Sam knowing at all - that is until Pete wouldn’t show up for work.
They had no future - but they had a present. And Sam had made a decision, too.
“Let’s just… make love tonight like it was the last time and pretend that it really isn’t. Let’s pretend that we’ll keep every single promise to phone and email and see each other on weekends. Let’s pretend that it really only is the sixty miles up to the coast. Let’s pretend that our hearts won’t be already an eternity apart before you even leave the county.”
>> Sequel: Who will take pity in his heart?