My Goodness - the Frogs have struck again! Actually I wrote this one a while back and though I have tried, any continuation seems forced and unrealistic, so I quit while I was ahead. A Season One-er I think timing wise. At time of posting I could do with a laugh myself, and writing this did at least make me smile...
Read it, review it, enjoy it - let me know what you think if you will? I'm in the market for some plot suggestions so let me know!

A Quiet Drink – A2A S1 fic one shot

Gene sat, nursing his pint at the bar, listening to the low wobbly sounds from the sound system.

He was the only customer and he was savouring the time spent alone.

Well, not quite alone.

Luigi was warbling off key in Italian behind the kitchen door.

Putting his half empty glass on the beer mat, Gene slid off the high bar stool and went behind the counter to turn the annoying jingly music off.

Quickly locating the 'off' button, he decided to reward himself with a scotch.

As he stood surveying the range of optics before him he heard a door open behind him and a quiet proprietorish cough.

Spinning round, glass advertising his guilt in his hand, Gene at least had the decency to look sheepish.

The Italian bar owner stood with crossed arms and an even crosser expression on his moustachioed face.

'Senor Hunt?'

'Luigi...'

Silence stretched between them awkwardly.

'You are one of my best customers - but this is not a free bar!'

'I was going to leave some money!' Gene shoved his free hand in his pockets, searching for more than the coppers he knew lurked there. It was still too long before payday for his liking.

Even to his ears, he sounded lame.

'I see. So, I'm here now - so you can pay me now.' Luigi told him, bellying up to the till, fingers poised over the buttons to ring up Gene's drink.

Gene turned back and reluctantly - only because now he had to pay for it - helped himself to a measure of scotch.

He then dug in his pockets and eventually found enough to cover it.

'Grazie,' Luigi nodded at him as the till sang its profitable little song.

Gene kicked round to the front of the bar - his traditional place - and went back to his half finished pint. He decided to save the scotch for later.

Luigi leaned across the bar, the seemingly ubiquitous drying cloth tucked in the crook of his right arm.

'Senor Hunt, you are not happy,' he told Gene, waving a knowing finger at the crumpled detective and winking one eye at him.

''appy? Me?' Gene exclaimed, staring the air bubbles in his beer,' I'm bloody ecstatic, Luigi. Can't you tell?!'

'You look like my cousin, Vincente, when his mother died, Senor Hunt,' Luigi ventured carefully.

Gene's eyes dropped to the floor and he sagged back in the bar stool.

'Oh no, no one's dead, Luigi,' he replied, 'the last lot of losers that would admit being related to yours truly shuffled off this mortal coil some time ago. Well,' he paused for a moment in recollection, 'apart from one uncle in Levenshulme. And he's been looney for years.'

He stopped in the maudlin thread to knock back the dregs of his pint.

'No,' he admitted in world weary tones, 'I'm all on my own, Luigi, my son. On my tod. Alone. Me and my bloody shadow.'

Luigi was uncharactistically embarrassed. It wasn't that he wasn't used to this sort of confession in his bar, but the fact it was 4 o'clock in the afternoon, not two in the morning.

And, as such, he was unable to follow through with the usual course of action: advice the suffering soul to go home and get some sleep that everything would look much, much better in the morning.

Omitting to add that it would take several headache tablets and some seriously strong coffee to assist in that particular instance.

It wasn't as though DCI Hunt had the decency to be drunk either!

He wasn't slurring his words, slumped over the bar or trying to start a fight with his fellow drinkers. Though as he was the only customer in the establishment, Luigi admitted it was have been some feat if he had managed that.

He gratefully heard the sound of footsteps coming down the steps into the wine bar from the street, and was even more pleased to see the red high heels, black stockined legs and pencil skirt topped with a red blouse finished with an enormous bow tied at the neck of DI Alex Drake.

Gene was still slumped back at the bar, perched on the bar stool, eyes staring into a place only he could see.

'Afternoon Constructs!' Alex chirped as she tripped lightly over to the bar and hopped up on the bar stool next to Gene.

At her speaking, Gene went to pull himself up on the seat, but missed his footing in the attempt and fell onto the floor in an ungainly and embarrassed heap.

Alex rolled her eyes and, sliding in a ladylike fashion from her seat, crouched down beside the cursing Gene.

'Alright down there?' she teased.

'No thanks to you, Bolly!' Gene sounded cursed as he struggled to stand up, but he was trapped by the bar stool shoved up against a supporting pillar and his feet and legs pushed up against the front of the bar.

Alex giggled as he struggled fruitlessly.

'For God's sake woman, don't just stand there flashing your posh knickers at me!' Gene growled, 'Get me up!'

Alex couldn't stop grinning madly, but grabbed his right bicep and hauled him upright.

'Thanks.' Gene mumbled, as he dusted himself down.

'You're perfectly welcome.' Alex answered, hopping back up on the bar stool beside him.

'Good Evening Senorina Alex,' Luigi greeted her warmly, presenting her with a large glass of red wine.

To his surprise, Alex held her manicured hand in refusal.

'Thanks but no thanks Luigi; it's a bit early for me. I'm not here to drink actually.'

'Ah! To eat! Tonight, for your delectation, for I know it is your favourite, I have scallops with pineapple rings!' Luigi gestured to the kitchen.

'Ah. Right. Well, maybe another time,' Alex smiled awkwardly, not having the heart to tell the poor man she had been dared to eat them whilst drunk. By Gene. Grrrrr, she thought.

'So, Bolly, if you're not here to drink, and you're not 'ere to eat - what the hell are you here for?' Gene asked, sitting very carefully this time.

'Actually,' Alex paused to cross her legs, and lean back in her own bar stool, 'it was to ask if you'd like to come out with me for a meal tonight?'

'Bloody hell!' exclaimed Gene.

And fell off his bar stool in shock.