DCI Gene Hunt (
the_gene_genie) wrote2011-08-01 05:28 pm
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Entry tags:
- 1888,
- kate barlow,
- oom,
- texas
OOM: Texas, 1888. Just outside Oakville
He's glad when she rides them out of town, away from where anyone might see this. It makes sense, of course. It'd be a bit stupid for her to be teaching him how to do this stuff in full view of the people who think he already knows how.
It feels weird to be back in the saddle after a few days out of it, though. Hurts, too. He'd thought these aches were going away but nope, they were only asleep. So it's a bit of an uncomfortable ride, especially coupled with the heat. He doesn't moan though. He'll be in trouble if she changes her mind about helping him here.
It feels weird to be back in the saddle after a few days out of it, though. Hurts, too. He'd thought these aches were going away but nope, they were only asleep. So it's a bit of an uncomfortable ride, especially coupled with the heat. He doesn't moan though. He'll be in trouble if she changes her mind about helping him here.
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'Right then.'
...a pause, and then he's closing in on her with a grin, hands slipping to her waist.
'Give us a snog. Jus' one, then I promise I'll concentrate. Scout's Honour.'
He's serving a lifetime ban from the Scouts, but she doesn't need to know that. And they've been at this all afternoon. He's tired, and wants some fun.
Plus, he's very good at whinging like a schoolboy when he's denied something he was promised. D:, Kate.
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Her expression is as flat as a flapjack under a boulder. Just stating the facts.
She has half a mind to say no. First of all, she doesn't believe him for a minute when he says he'll buckle down and concentrate. Secondly, she wonders if he won't put a bit more effort in if he has to hold out for a reward. But Kate's never been one to dangle a carrot to get her students to do something, and as far as Gene is concerned he probably would spend the whole evening whining until he got his way.
So she turns, pressing up against his body, and curls her hand around the back of his head. She pulls him in and gives him a proper kiss; the kind that, with any luck, will shut him up for a good while.
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It's a shame he has to come up for air eventually. Not far though; his mouth fnds her neck and stays there a bit, waiting for the inevitable push of her hands to make him get back to work.
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He has her thinking about it. Just for a moment, when his mouth moves to her neck and she can feel the prickle of sweat forming on her skin. He exhales and she shudders, picturing his arms braced, their bodies haphazardly intertwined, quick and hot and lustful and — and she feels something sharp.
He shifts, and the edge of that shiny new badge cuts into her skin.
She gives a little nudge, and slides one of her hands to his backside and smacks him.
"All right, all right. Spend a lil' less time tyin' me in knots, and work on your rope."
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But in the meantime, she does have a point about him needing to know this stuff. And the sooner he learns it, the sooner they can get back and...relax.
'Right then.'
He eyes the rope in his hand.
'What d'you want me t'do with it?'
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"First, y'gotta know how t'tie a honda."
She shows him her lasso and then steps in, taking him through the process with his rope. The knot isn't difficult to learn if he's paying attention.
Still, she's going to make him do it three or four times until he's got the habit.
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It isn't hard, no, and he's always been good with his hands. But he's still frowning at it when he's done, picking at the stopper knot.
'You sure this'll hold? Looks like it'll fall out if I try an' pull somethin' with it.'
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"Not when y'got your honda knot tight. Y'want some natural give. Dependin' on what you're ropin', y'measure out coils."
She demonstrates with her rope, making her lasso stretch from one coil, to two, and back.
"Y'hold onto this end when y'throw your loop, an' then pull t'make it snug. Your stopper knot here at this end of the rope catches at your honda an' keeps it from slippin' through."
She gives another demonstration, tightening her lasso around her forearm to show how it closes in snug without coming undone.
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'Right.'
Beat.
'...can I throw this at somethin', then?'
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"D'you want me t'show you how?"
When she gets back to the bar, she's going to be sure to tell someone to smack her the next time she considers inviting Gene out to Texas. What could go wrong? Ahahaha. Ha.
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He hates hates hates people having to show him what to do. But, yeah. Playing at this as a kid is not the same as doing it for real, and he can't afford to mess it up.
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"Well come on, then."
She gives him another tug, and walks a few paces from the horses to the wide open stretch of land she saw from the saddle. She doesn't turn from him, or break eye contact, until she's ready to stop. Keeping him close to her back, she holds the lasso out with her right hand.
"Y'wanna hold your rope like this, y'see?"
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...being told like this isn't so bad.
His left hand snakes around her waist. Just because. His right copies hers.
'And?'
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Her eyes drop from his right hand to his left. She bites back a smirk, though there's amusement in her voice when she looks over her shoulder.
"You're gonna need that."
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'Been practicin' for years.'
Wait. Are they talking about the same thing?
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"Keep your elbow up."
She taps the underside of his arm playfully, but with enough force to nudge it about level with his shoulder.
"Y'wanna come from right t'left as you're swingin' your rope. So the back'a your hand..."
If she leans into him a little more, what of it?
"...should always be facin' you."
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'S'all in the wrist, isn' it?'
If he holds her a bit tighter with his free hand, what of it?
'Knew I'd be good at this.'
For totally, innocent reasons, Kate.
Or not.
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He won't be catching anything with his form just yet, barring some sort of miracle. So, regardless of his reasons, she's not too concerned.
"Now, try an' feed your rope."
Which should be difficult to do, considering his left hand is otherwise occupied.
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Yeeeeeah, he's not holding out much hope for his promise. Not when he's kissing her neck like that.
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Hopeless.
Utterly, wholly, completely, unforgivably hopeless.
"You're gonna smack yourself in the head."
But, better his head than Kate's. At least Gene will recover from a smack to the head.
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'Can' we jus'...stop for a bit?'
Have a drink. Smoke a fag.
...whatever else may occur in between those things.
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Now, wait. Are they talking about the same thing?
She pulls out of his embrace and turns, fixing him with a scolding look.
"Y'have t'learn this, Gene. Now, quit bellyachin', an' watch me."
She takes a few steps and grabs her lasso, starting with the same form she was trying to teach him just now. She brings it over her head and starts swinging, getting her elbow into it and working up a nice loop. She flicks her wrist and the rope soars, catches an overgrown prickly pear, and with a flash her left hand has the rope twanging tight, honda closed snug over the 'neck' of her mark.
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He is not going to touch the jab at his staying power, which is how he took that remark. Not yet. She can pay for it later. But she's obviously not going to cave, so what he reckons is, the sooner he gets the hnag of it, the better.
So.
'Don' look too hard.'
He tries the same thing. And, predictably, misses by a mile.
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"You're holdin' it too high. And — "
She saunters back over and puts her hands on him.
"You're all wrist. Y'need t'get your elbow into it, too. Like I showed you."
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Of course, it doesn't help when she's touching him, even if it is businesslike.
He lowers his arm a bit, and tries it with added elbow. It seems to build up a decent enough rhythm, but he's willing to bet she'll find fault with it somewhere.
'Better?'
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