DCI Gene Hunt (
the_gene_genie) wrote2012-07-30 01:12 am
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OOM: Room 6620, #4
He hadn't dozed for long yesterday. And it had been another restless night, although not as bad as before - he still gave up in the end though, and slipped out of bed before Alex woke up. He thought she'd be awake by the time he got out of the shower, but no.
He went downstairs for a pint. Ridiculous really, at that time of morning, but he always recommended the pub after long operations that finished in the morning, so why should now be any different?
Of course, he got a bit more than he bargained for.
Which is why he's not trying to be quiet when he comes back into the room. If she wakes up, good. She needs to hear this.
He went downstairs for a pint. Ridiculous really, at that time of morning, but he always recommended the pub after long operations that finished in the morning, so why should now be any different?
Of course, he got a bit more than he bargained for.
Which is why he's not trying to be quiet when he comes back into the room. If she wakes up, good. She needs to hear this.
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He drinks his drink, and gets another, and drinks that too. He'll still be sitting there, smoking distractedly, when she comes back.
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She's not quite the Alex Drake she was at Fenchurch, but then again, she's not quite the Alex Drake of 2008 either.
She wanders back out to the wardrobe, her towel forgotten entirely this time. Another set of clothes is waiting for her, and she doesn't even have the wherewithal to be surprised by that. Another simple silk tunic and couture jeans. And her favourite pair of trainers. That does manage to get a smile.
When she's dressed, she ambles back over and nudges his booted foot with a toe.
'You hungry, love?'
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'She might not be there now. She was going to get a room.'
A bit more important than food, he thinks.
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'Doesn't mean you and I can't go have a pot of tea and some eggs, does it?'
Her weight shifts, and she fiddles with the simple hoop earrings she's wearing.
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'C'mon then.'
Stuff it. Get it done. And he can always drink tea.
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Tea cures a world of ills.
'You know... She's going to take one look at us and know we're sleeping together.'
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He amends straight after.
'Didn't put it like that. Didn't have to.'
He glances over as they walk.
'I don' think we've got it tattooed on our foreheads.'
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'I suspect they thought we already were.'
Not that they had an entirely professional and platonic relationship. It was always something more than that, at least that's how it felt to her.
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Which he had suspected for a long time as well. It doesn't bother him, even if they should have had better things to do. It's just normal station behaviour, as far as he's concerned.
'She said Ray won. Or would've. She looked a bit sick about the whole idea, actually.'
Which is weird to him, but whatever. He hasn't really understood what they had, so he doesn't expect anyone else to get it either.
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'She probably thinks it's none of her business, and rightfully so.'
If Shaz has any other problems with her and Gene ending up together, well, she'll deal with it then. Right now, she just wants to make sure her friend and colleague is taken care of, settling in and what not.
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'She can't have worried too much about it being her business if she threw money in the pot,' he points out. But yeah, still not worried.
'Can't see her.'
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She heads for their corner, eyes scanning the room as well.
'Any sign of the lads?' That has to be on his mind.
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'No.'
Yeah. It's on his mind.
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'I wouldn't worry about it, love. If they show up, they show up. We'll deal with it then.'
She's not about to let him go it alone anymore.
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'Not as simple as that though, is it?'
Nothing about this will ever be simple.
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One hand rests on his arm, briefly, and she smiles at him.
'We are... a team.'
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Not that he doesn't appreciate it, and smiles a little bit to show it.
'They probably think a bit differently.'
Or maybe they don't. He doesn't know, can't say, and it'll drive him mental wondering if they'll turn up here and throw everything into the mix again.
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It wouldn't be the first time. She raises a hand and beckons one of the rats.
'Tea, please. And -- I think I'll have an omelette. With toast.'
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'They're blokes, Bols. It's really not...look, just leave 'em to think what they want, if they show up.'
On the job, he'd order them around without a thought. But it's different now, and that's that, as far as he's concerned.
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She reaches out and takes his hand between hers, leaning on her elbows. Her gaze plays over his rough knuckles, and she sighs.
'Forgive me for stating the obvious, but... You're not alone anymore.'
It's important that he knows that.
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In this, he won't be swayed.
'There's some stuff women should leave well alone, is all I mean.'
His relationship with her, even before all this, is very different than the one he has with his lads. And he reckons the boys, Ray in particular, wouldn't be interested in hearing what she thinks they should think about him. He might be wrong. He might never have the chance to find out. But that's what he reckons.
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'I think what you meant to say is, "Keep your nose out of it, Bolly."'
Her lips slide into a crooked smirk.
'And I will, never fear. But I will tell you what I think, and you can take it or leave it.'
Her tone is still gentle, affectionate even. He's such a hard case sometimes.
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He shrugs, pulls a smile, and looks down at the table.
'You always tell me what you think. Something'd really be wrong if you didn't.'
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'However did you survive so long without me?'
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'Dunno.'
He's looking around the room again. She really knows how to pick her words sometimes, and while he's doing his best to get past all this, it's not that easy. He hates that tiny things - things that he'd normally think nothing of - strike home.
No matter. The tea, and breakfast, turns up. He's glad of the distraction.
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