I felt like writing something cute and this was what I came up with. Enjoy! :)
The clock on the wall showed just after 1 in the morning. The only light in the room was the orange glow of the streetlight outside shining through the still open blinds. Rain falling on the window cast splattered shadows on the opposite wall, just visible through swirls of cigarette smoke.
Gene knew he should go outside to smoke. His mother had drummed it into him enough while he was still living at home. But the sound of rain outside put him off the idea. Inside it was. He could always open the window when it had stopped.
He didn't quite know why he was sat on his own at such a ridiculous time of night. It seemed odd to him to be sat in such silence compared to the noise of Luigi's only a few hours ago. But here he was.
He was tired. The whiskey he had drank mixed with the gentle pattering of the rain on the window was making him slightly drowsy and he feared he would fall asleep where he sat unless he moved his arse soon.
Yet he stayed where he was, carried on smoking his cigarette, and thought.
It was ironic, really. He was always telling Bolly that she thought too much; that the constant cogs going round in that pretty little head of hers would one day land her in trouble she wouldn't be able to think her way out of. Yet he always found himself thinking. Usually about her.
He knew from the moment he saw her that he wanted her. Who wouldn't, after all? Pretty face, nice tits, legs that went on forever. And that arse. God how he loved that arse.
Granted she was up her own gorgeous arse most of the time and a complete and utter pain in his, but that had never stopped him wanting her. Even after finding out that she was his DI rather than the high class prostitute they all thought she was. Even after she'd punched him in the gob. Twice. Even after all the put downs, the holier than thou attitude and the arguing, he still found himself completely and utterly smitten with her.
He let out a small laugh to himself. Smitten. Of all the things Gene Hunt was, he was never smitten. Or at least, that used to be the case. Bloody woman. What had she done to him.
He looked around the room to see if he could find anything to tap the ash from his cigarette into in place of an ashtray, finally settling on an old takeaway container he found on the coffee table, making a mental note to discard it into the bin when he was done.
He wondered to himself how he had ever coped without Bolly. As much as he often hated to admit it, he loved having her around. He liked having someone to bounce ideas off. To argue with occasionally. To have a drink with. To flirt with. She was especially good for flirting with. Simply, he just liked having her around.
She often talked about leaving, about going back to wherever it was that she came from. He hoped with all his heart that she didn't; as much of a fruitcake that she was, and as much as she annoyed him, he couldn't imagine another day in his life without her in it.
He knew that he sounded a complete and utter fairy. He knew that if he ever admitted what he was feeling now, he would get all sorts of shit from the lads. But at this point in time, he quite frankly didn't give a shit.
A yawn escaped him; he had work in the morning, he should get some sleep.
He finished off his cigarette, stubbing it out in the foil container before checking on the weather outside. Still pissing it down. He wouldn't be leaving the window open, then.
He got up and made his way through the kitchen, putting the container in the bin as he passed.
He stepped through the door in front of him, quietly shedding himself of his shirt, trousers and socks, leaving him in just his boxers as he slipped carefully under the duvet.
He felt a stirring beside him, an arm moving upwards to rub at tired eyes and brush stray curls away from them.
"Mmmm...Gene?" came a muffled voice in the dim light of the room.
"S'alright, Bolly, go back t'sleep, Sweet'eart"
She made herself comfortable beside him, managing to mumble an "mmmkay then" before her breathing became shallow and she slept on.
Gene wrapped his arms around her sleeping figure, taking in the sight of her chest softly rising and falling in time with her breaths, the dark lashes of her eyes contrasting with her pale skin, her bottom lip settled slightly stuck out in a sleepy pout.
No. He couldn't imagine another day in his life without her in it.
The End.
Please R&R! :)