Win or lose
I've been watching series 3 and this popped into my head.
I don't own any part of Ashes and never will.
He had tried everything. Kicked the waste paper bin into blind submission with his crocodile boots, hammered the phone on his desk, punched the filing cabinet until it trembled, and still the blood was pumping furiously and uncontrollably through his veins, there was nothing left in his office to be abused. He struggled to catch himself, to regain control, to calm down. What was it all for anyway? Just one exchanged look between them, it hadn't even lingered, had only last for a split second, but it was enough.
The triumph on the face of pencil neck; the smarmy, supercilious, sarcastic, sickly smile; he wanted to fell the other DCI, to grind the heel of his boot into the pallid white neck, to stand above him looking down like a great white hunter over the corpse of a beast.
As he paced the confines of his office he could see her at her desk, analysing him, judging. Stupidly high red boots, skin tight jeans, voluminous fluffy sapphire blue jumper, harsh make up; a mask to hide behind. That ridiculous jewellery, worthless plastic baubles when she should be dripping diamonds.
At that moment he hated her. Traitor! Thinking because she had Sam Tyler's jacket in the drawer of her desk she had one up on him. Believing she actually had an ally in Keats. How could she? Was he wrong to have expected more of her?
He poured a scotch and fought to keep his hand steady. More ammunition for them but he didn't give a rat's arse. As he took a first sip he caught her eye,the side of her mouth twitched into the beginnings of a smile but he looked away because when the smile became pitying he wouldn't be able to take noise in CID was hurting his head, drilling and banging, dismantling with the pretence of rebuilding, a careless hand hovering over a house of cards. He lit a cheroot but his throat tightened so he crushed it out, swallowed the remainder of the scotch, swept out of the office and on through the incident room,yanking at one of the double doors. He knew how he was behaving, he was weak and childish letting them affect him in this way. That raising of her eyebrows as she looked at pencil neck had sent Gene over the edge.
He slammed into the men's toilet and into a stall.
Seconds later she followed him.
'Guv?'
'Fuck off.'
'What's wrong?'
'Fuck off.'
'Please.'
'Please fuck off.'
'No, I mean please tell me what's wrong. What's upset you so much?'
He stood with his back against the door, 'Can't even take a piss in private.'
'You must have a good aim, I can see your boots.'
Silence.
'Guv?'
'Fuck off.'
'I'm not going.'
Silence.
'I'll stay here until you can't stand the smell any longer and have to come out.'
Something hit the back of his heel. He looked down, the shiny red toe of her boot pressing insistently, giving them an unbearable connection. Unbearable on his part anyway. Probably meant nothing to her, just a bit of fun, another way to play him for a fool. He moved his feet forward a few inches, the boot connected again, she had slid her foot under the gap at the bottom of the door. He moved further forward, so he was out of her reach.
'I could probably crawl under the door, I lost weight in the coma.'
Silence.
'You want me to crawl through piss for you - Gene?'
He wanted to answer, but his pride blocked him. So silence.
'Ok- here goes.'
He turned quickly, unbolting the door, walking out and straight through her as if she was nothing, but she was fast even in those absurd boots, she stayed ahead of him, facing him as he pushed her towards the exit. As they reached the door she barred his way.
'I'm not letting you out until to you talk to me.'
He grabbed her arms and tried to shift her by brute force, refusing to look at her, fixing on the shabby paintwork on the wall beside her.
'Is everything alright in there?'
It was Keats.
Gene made a gigantic effort to get Alex out of the way, but she was leaden in his arms, like a tall thin doll.
'Yes- fine' she shouted.
Gene could hear the breathlessness in her voice. She was enjoying this tussle. It was such a battle of wills. She was intent on driving a reaction from him.
Waiting for him to speak.
'Sure?' Keats said loudly.
'Quite sure.' she yelled, turning her attention back to Gene. He was the creature she had to tame. Gene realised he was losing. If she won this battle all his self-respect would evaporate. He couldn't hit her like he would a man, he couldn't even grip her too tightly in case he bruised her arms.
'Gene- talk to me.' she whispered.
He looked into her eyes by mistake, he hadn't meant too because he knew what he would see there. The same thing that she would see in his. The accumulation of years of desire and denial.
It was there as he knew it would be, he was lost but so was she, that was the amazing thing, the moment of revelation.
He dropped his mouth slightly, it hit the side of hers, she turned her face to catch more of his lips. He pulled back, his eyes blazing. She wrenched one arm free from his grip and put a hand to his face. He thought of her as a lion tamer with a whip and roughly knocked her hand away but she grabbed a fistful of his shirt and they stared at each other, mesmerised.
Keats had returned with back-up, they could hear him instructing Ray and Chris to force the door.
In an instant the logistics had changed. Now it was the two of them against Keats. They braced themselves for the first battering. Gene pushed her hard against the door and his body hard onto hers, she drew his lips to her as if by sheer will power. When the push came they pushed back against it. His mouth widened to take more of hers, his tongue slid in to meet hers, tasting cherry lip gloss on the way. They had become equals now, neither was taking, both happy just giving. His leg slid between hers and they braced themselves again for the onslaught.
'He's put a chair under the bloody handle.' they heard Ray moan.
'For Christ's Sake! He could be killing her, that man is out of control.' Keats replied.
'Kill me' whispered Alex.
He held her more tightly, his lips tracing her neck before his teeth gently bit the warm flesh and he felt her shudder with delight, she grabbed his face again and this time he didn't push her arm away, and let her pull him down to her lips again.
They kissed on and on as Ray and Chris battered away at the door.
Finally he pulled away from her, 'Right or left?'
'Left.' she replied.
'Count of 3?'
She nodded, grinning almost mischievously, glowing with lust and arousal.
As the next assault on the door hit they sidestepped together, letting Ray and Chris burst through, Keats closely behind.
He looked at them, knowing in an instant what had gone on- a regrouping- a fortification. They stood shoulder to shoulder, not quite touching, smiling innocently at him.
The lion was restored, 'Anything I can help you with Jim?'
Jim's eyes were as black as midnight- these two were impenetrable- every time he thought he was winning against Gene bastard Hunt he was losing. Time
to up his game.
oxxo