Set around about the time in between Series 1 and 2. A bit of smut (not too bad though!) and a fair bit of strong language. Please bear in mind that this is my first fic with no experience, so if you think it's rubbish, that's why!
NOTE: I do not own Ashes to Ashes or any of the characters used or mentioned in this fic.
Luigi heaved a heavy sigh to himself as he went about his usual routine of polishing glasses behind the bar. Another night of having to put up with the antics of the Fenchurch East CID crowd as they slowly got drunker and drunker on his beer. Which they never paid for, he might add; if they weren't careful their tabs would be through the roof.
What bothered him most about their presence that night, however, was not the constant stream of bad Italian jokes or finger lighting, but the one member of the team who seemed to not be enjoying themselves, sitting alone at the bar sipping occasionally on a glass of wine and, seemingly, miles away in deep thought.
DI Alex Drake sat at her usual post at the bar with a glass of red wine, which, over the past few months of being stuck in this place, had almost become a trademark of her entire existence. She could hear the rest of CID behind her; no doubt getting up to mischief that would, eventually and undoubtedly, annoy Luigi to the brink of throwing them all out, but tonight, Alex did not feel very up to joining in. Tonight was not a night for socialising.
Alex took a sip of her wine, and after softly setting it back down on the bar, began to ponder about Molly. After reliving the death of her parents, Alex had not had many more of her visions, and after a couple of weeks they had completely stopped. No more clowns creeping up on her as she slept. No more television hosts talking to her through the barrier of her TV screen. And, more importantly, no more Molly sitting casually in Luigi's rented flat, almost as though she belonged there. Such was the lack of anything to remind her of Molly that Alex had pushed it completely to the back of her mind, what with policing to keep herself occupied with.
It wasn't until today that it had all come flooding back to her. Today was the first anniversary of her arrival in the 80s. Molly's birthday.
Another sip of wine.
It was almost hard for Alex to believe that she had been here a year already. It all went so fast. Although it would; in real time all of this was just seconds, after all. In real time she was still on a stinking barge surrounded by rubbish with a bullet in her head. If it weren't for that, if it weren't for that absolute bastard Arthur Layton, she'd still be with Molly, and they'd have blown out the candles on her cake together like she'd promised.
But what made it so much worse was that with this sudden realisation of her situation came a huge amount of guilt. It was only now that Alex had not been with Molly for at least her interpretation of a year that she began to appreciate the blessing that was her only daughter. In 2008 it was a rare occasion that they spent more than maybe a half hour together in quality time. It's not that Alex didn't want to, but she was just too busy working; there was always something that demanded her attention enough for her to continuously put Molly on hold. If it weren't for her sodding work commitments she'd never have gone to the Tate Modern; she'd have carried on taking Molly to school, dropped her off and gone about her day as normal. Then she wouldn't be in this bloody mess.
She drained the last of the bottle of wine in refilling her glass. Bugger.
Christmas and New Year weren't so bad; she was too busy getting pissed with the rest of the team to worry too much about it being the first Christmas in 13 years she hadn't spent with Molly, waking up early and watching the delight spread across her face as she opened up her gifts and devoured chocolate like there was no tomorrow Evan slowly getting merrier and merrier on brandy, which never failed to make them both giggle. But now that there was nothing to distract her, there was nothing to stop her getting upset. Which was exactly what she did.
She was too wrapped up in her own thoughts to notice that, in the little table in the corner, behind a half empty pint glass and a faint cloud of cigarette smoke, she had an audience.
DCI Gene Hunt was getting bored. Chris and Ray making arses of themselves was something he had seen many thousands of times before; he did not feel the need to put up with it tonight. He could leave. But it was still early, and having to spend more time than necessary in his poxy flat with nothing to do was not a prospect he fancied taking up.
Besides, his flat didn't have such interesting views as his little corner table did.
After taking a hearty drag of his cigarette, he turned his eyes once more in the direction of the wine drinker in the ridiculously tight jeans sat at the bar. Bolly. Since the day she showed up in his life and turned it completely upside down she had annoyed him with her persistent argumentative attitude and smart arse psycho-bollocks. But what he would not give to have her sit with him at the table in the corner, sharing a bottle of wine and talking about... well, anything. Usually whatever random point she had her arse stuck out about. But it was better than this.
She'd been like this all day, and to anyone that wasn't paying attention (Chris and Ray, for example), it was seemingly out of no where; already today Ray had got a bollocking after a not very well disguised "decorators" comment.
But Gene Hunt was paying attention. He knew what day it was. How could he forget the first anniversary of the arrival of his Bolly? The first anniversary of the day she turned up in her ridiculous fur coat and red dress, the day he first came to her rescue, the day she put her hand on his chest and the surprise in her tone at his heartbeat, the day he groped... yes. That day.
'Bollocks to it', he thought. 'This should be a celebration. And I'll bloody well make it one'.
Alex was dragged out of her train of thought by the sound of a bottle being placed heavily on the bar next to her left arm. She was surprised to see Gene standing there with a bottle of... Bolly. Typical. If she wasn't so miserable, she'd have giggled to herself.
"Look like ya could do with summat a bit stronger than that 'ouse shite, Bols. Can I tempt ya?"
"What's the occasion?" As if I don't already know. But does he?
"One year, Lady Bols. One year since ya graced us with the pleasure of your peachy arse in them jeans and wondrous psychiatry". And so much more.
Ah. He does know. That's a surprise. "It's psychology..."
"Same thing". Usual reaction provoked. We're getting somewhere.
"No, Gene, it's no... Oh, never mind, I don't care". Alex proceeded to pour herself a large glass of the champagne and down it in one long go.
"Christ, Bols. Ya thirsty or something?"
She shot him a dark look and poured another glass.
After about an hour, the bottle was finished between them, and Gene was feeling decidedly tipsy. Only tipsy though, he mused. Not everyone was such a lightweight as the likes of Chris. Apart from Bolly, perhaps...
"'Ent it strange, Gene?" Alex tried to rest her head on her hand, only to have her elbow slip off the bar. "B'llcks... Gene, Gene, listen. 'Ent it strange, tha', time goes so bloody fast"
"Really, Bols? Can't say I'd noticed"
"That's 'cause you're used to it" Alex attempted to pull the most matter of fact face that she could, "In my time, no, Gene, listen, in my time, okay, my time... everythin' goes quicker. This... whoooole night", at this she waved her arms in a big circle to try and demonstrate 'whole', "is a fraction of a second. It comes, an' it goes. Like 'at" and she tried to click her fingers, to no avail. "Can' even fuckin' click righ'..."
"... Bols, I have no idea wha' you're on about".
"Nah, you bloody wouldn', would ya? You're a bloody figmen'!" And she collapsed in a fit of giggles on the bar top.
Gene considered her for a second, and realised how glad he was that they were now the only ones left in the restaurant.
After a few moments, Alex's giggles subsided and she reached for what was left in her champagne glass, before Gene grabbed her wrist, stopping her from making contact with it.
"No, Bols, you've had enough".
"Fuck'ff, Gene, 'm not even tipsy".
"Oh really? Stand up".
Alex slipped off the bar stool and made to stand up, only for Gene to catch her as she fell to the floor.
"See? Come on, Bols, bedtime". He tried to grab her around the waist so he could support her up the flights of stairs to her flat, only for her to try and push him off.
"Piss off, I don' need your he... AAAAH! PUT ME DOWN YOU BASTARD!"
Gene ignored her and carried on up the stairs smiling to himself, holding Alex over his shoulder while she screamed and kicked at him, threatening to be sick on him if he didn't put her down.
She was still trying to free herself from Gene's grasp as they reached the front door to her flat.
"Bols, shut ya trap for a second, will ya!? Where are ya keys?"
"'M not tellin' you!"
"Fine then". He placed her down, made sure she was steady, stood back, and made to kick the door down.
"GENE!! Wha' you doin'?!"
"If ya don't want me kickin' the door down, gimme the bloody keys!"
Reluctantly, with a childlike pout on her lips, she reached into her pockets and handed him the door keys. He opened the door, helped her through to the living room, and placed her gently down in a seating position on the sofa, only for her to fall sideways, giggling. Gene watched her for a second. 'Christ she's pissed. Oh well, at least she's smiling now'.
He briefly left to shut the front door which he had left open in his haste to get Alex somewhere that she wouldn't fall flat on her face, and upon his return to the living room found her still lying where he'd left her, eyes closed and snoring very lightly. If her first night here was anything to go by, she'd bloody fallen asleep again. Dozy tart.
Gene stood watching her, the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, her head resting on her hands and legs thrown out at odd angles. He couldn't leave her like that; she'd be stiff in the morning and from experience he knew that having a hangover and waking up with stiff limbs was not the best way to start a day. The only thing to do was put her to bed. Properly. He placed her back into a seating position, then lifted her with one arm holding her legs, the other supporting her back, and carried her to the bedroom, her face buried into his neck as she slept on.
He placed her gently down on the bed, pulled off her boots, socks and jeans before moving to unbutton her shirt. It was only in the process of lifting her up to pull the shirt off that he realised he had no misgivings about being here, undressing his drunken unconscious D.I in her bedroom, leaving her in nothing but her black lacy underwear. It all felt very natural for him to be doing so. He wondered, whilst pulling the duvet up and over her, whether it was a sign, or just that he had fantasised about something similar so many times that it seemed second nature. He sat next to her sleeping form and took the opportunity to admire her from a close up angle; her brown curls fallen on her face, her mouth hanging slightly open as she slept, her gentle breathing, her chest rising and falling, that perfect bra encasing her perfect breasts, the curve of her body where her waist met her hips, her perfect round ars.... 'No, Genie Boy, don't think about that now. This isn't the time'.
He brushed the hair out of her face and was just about to leave when a hand grabbed his wrist from behind.
"Gene... dmm eemee"
"Wha'?"
"Don' leave me".
Bugger. "I'm not gonna leave ya, sweetheart, don't worry"
"Mmmm. 'Kay". And with that she went back to sleep.
Gene sighed to himself. In the boring afternoons spent in his office he had often fantasised about him, Bolly, and a bed together. But that always involved sex. Predictably. He had strong feelings that none of that was going to be happening here. However much he would love to shag her, and god knew he would give up an entire lifetimes salary for the chance, he was not prepared to take advantage of her drunk. One, it was not the right thing to do, and two, she'd never forgive him. So, at least for the time being, he was happy to settle with at least sleeping in the same bed as her.
He pulled off his own boots and clothes, leaving him in just his boxers, and climbed in behind her, careful not to wake her up. He slipped a arm around her waist where it came to rest on her stomach, and settled himself for a night with Bolly.
He awoke about an hour later to find himself lying on his back, his arm around Alex as she rested her head on his shoulder, one hand resting on his chest, and one of her legs carelessly thrown over his. 'Off all the positions to find yourself in, Gene, it had to be this one'. If she shifted another inch or so, their crotches would be touching. The thought of that was slowly but surely giving him the horn. Which was not good; in fact it would be a disaster if she found him in her bed with a raging hard on. He tried with all his might to give himself a mental cold shower, praying to god that she did not wake up any time soon.
Alex woke in the morning, and tried to open her eyes, but the sun shining through the flimsy blind was making her head hurt. How much had she drunk last night? And more importantly, how had she ended up in her own bed, in her underwear? And who's arm was she lying on....
Oh god.
Turning her face away from the window, she gradually opened her eyes so it was comfortable to keep them open, and slowly turned her head towards the sleeping figure.
'Who the.... GENE!?'
He was asleep beside her, arm around her back with her practically lying on top of him. 'Think, Alex. What happened last night?!'. She remembered... the bar. The Bolly... everything upside down... she'd threatened to throw up on him... sofa... she'd...bed.... asked him... asked him... to stay. She'd asked him to stay with her... and he stayed with her.
Out of no where, Alex felt a sudden surge of respect for Gene. He might be a selfish, pig headed, stubborn bastard, but he cared; he cared enough about her to stay and make sure she was okay. She was grateful to him for it.
She relaxed in his embrace and considered his sleeping form. His hair falling onto his forehead, his beautiful long eyelashes. He even had that adorable pout when he slept.
...Adorable? She giggled to herself at the thought; she was sure not even his own mother had thought of him as adorable before.
She wasn't sure if it was some of last night's alcohol she hadn't managed to sleep off, or the months of feelings for him that she had secretly repressed, but she had a sudden urge to kiss him... no. She couldn't. He was Gene. He was her boss. He was an arrogant, pig headed, selfish bastard. But damn he was gorgeous. She slowly moved her face towards his, placing a soft kiss at the side of his mouth before placing another, slightly harder this time, on his lips, slightly parted, and she couldn't resist but to go in for a deeper kiss; she had to make the most of it now she'd started.
Suddenly there was a hand gripping both of her upper arms and she was tossed onto her back, Gene wide awake and looming over her, chuckling to himself at her shocked expression before attacking her lips with his, his tongue pressing until she allowed him entry. He'd been awoken by her moving around in his arms but had kept his eyes closed thinking that she'd simply go back to sleep. Boy was he mistaken. Still kissing her, his tongue teasing hers, he ran his hands down her arms to her hips and back up to her waist before resting there lightly, leaving Alex melting under his touch, hangover long forgotten about.
Gene pulled away to look at her again, a look of pure lust in her eyes, silently begging him to take her any way he bloody well wanted her.
That look wasn't lost on Gene, and he leant down to kiss her again.
"You sure you want this, Bolly?" he muttered into her mouth, "'cause once I start", he moved his lips to her neck, "I don't think I'll be able to stop". He bit down gently on her neck, rewarded with a gasp from Alex.
"Oh god... Gene... yes!" With all the force she could muster she managed to roll them both over; Gene on his back with Alex straddling him, bending down to place harsh kisses on his neck, running her hands slowly up from his waist to his chest, a low groan emerging from his throat as she continued to kiss his collar and shoulders, occasionally biting softly down on them. Gene dragged her face up to his to kiss her lips and entwine his tongue with hers.
Alex could feel the beginnings of a hard on emerging in Gene's boxers, and, deciding that teasing him as much as she could was a very good idea indeed, pushed him back against the mattress and rocked her hips over his crotch, causing him to moan into her mouth as she kissed him fiercely, taking his bottom lip between her teeth and sucking on it gently.
Gene could feel himself getting harder and harder, aided by the sight of Alex straddling him in her underwear illuminated by the dim sunlight shining through the window. He had to have her. Now.
Alex found herself being rolled harshly onto her back once more, Gene's hands reaching behind her and expertly removing her bra while his mouth covered hers. The bra joined the rest of their clothes in a heap on the floor, and Gene moved his mouth from her lips to her now exposed breasts, taking each nipple in turn with his mouth, sucking and biting lightly, leaving Alex gasping for breath. Before she knew it he had made quick work of both her knickers and his boxers, leaving both of them completely naked and horny.
He moved his mouth slowly back up to her neck, "last chance, Bolly. After that there'll be no stoppin' me", teasing her clit with his cock, rubbing against it slowly; he didn't know who he was teasing, Alex or himself. Please god don't let her tell me to stop, or I might have to take matters into my own hands.
Alex's only response was to flash him a sultry smile and kiss him fiercely; she let out a gasp as Gene buried into her to the hilt, slowly thrusting in and out before quickening pace, kissing her, both moaning into each others mouths, Gene moving once more to kiss her neck and shoulders. Alex could only let out small moans from the pit of her stomach, so turned on that the power of speech had escaped her completely. Gene pulled his face back to watch her. Her eyes were closed, tiny moans escaping, she bit her lip in that sexy way he had noticed she did sometimes; he loved it when she did that. He let out a low chuckle to himself, continuing to thrust into her until she came around him with a breathy moan; it didn't take him long to follow.
He rolled off her and onto his back, not quite believing how amazing that was. He knew Bolly would be good but he'd never expected anything like that. A wide smile on his face, he shifted onto his side to look at her. She was out of breath, her perfect breasts heaving, a small smile spreading on her face, all signs of last night's misery completely gone. He was very pleased with that; he loved it when she was smiling. It was a better sight of her to admire.
"Y'alright there, Bolls? Lookin' a bit outta breath", he teased, planting a small kiss on her forehead.
"It's your fault!" She giggled and playfully slapped his arm as she moved to rest her head and arm on his chest.
"My fault? You bloody started it, you daft tart!"
More giggling. Still a bit pissed then, evidently, Gene thought to himself. At least she's happy.
"Gene?"
"Yeah?"
She shifted slightly to make herself more comfortable, and asked sleepily, "shouldn't we be getting up soon?"
"Nah. Saturday. Day off".
"Mmm... good".
"You all shagged out there, Bolly?"
After a few minutes silence where he was convinced she'd gone back to sleep, there was a mutter of "fuck off" which made him laugh softly to himself.
"Oi, Bols?"
Alex looked up at him sleepily. "What?"
"Happy Anniversary".
Both laughed to themselves as they settled down to go back to sleep, all thoughts of 2008 in the back of Alex's mind once more.
THE END
Please R&R! :)
