Despite his lacking a sense of belonging, John Beaman had taken from this festive 1983 all that he could. He didn't know what this place was, but he did know that a blunt object had caused him cranial trauma, and that he was laying in a coma in 2014. Still, if his subconscious was to present him with entertainment whilst his body recovered, he wasn't going to turn it down.

Alex had taken him under her wing, quite like she had Ray, Chris and Shaz. She could tell Gene was unsure of her intentions, but there was only one lost soul she was interested in getting to know. In spite of that, she wanted to ensure John felt welcome. He was like her, after all; they had the twenty-first century in common unlike the other dinosaurs. She constantly reassured him that he wasn't alone, hoping he'd interpret it on the deeper level she'd intended him to.

The team had all made a generous effort with their appearance this evening. As if Violet's wasn't (quite literally) flashy enough, Vi had scattered an array of shiny, coloured confetti over every seat and surface for the occasion . "The Guv's not gonna be 'appy with this crap all over the place," warned Ray. Violet's response was a simple but effective: "well he can bugger off somewhere else then, can't he?" The other two dared not object, perhaps because Violet had a point. Instead, Ray and Chris sipped at their pints in their suits while Shaz fiddled around with the newly installed jukebox to choose some music.

Gene's watch read 18:29 as the quattro pulled up outside Bolly's home. He clambered out of the motor and, with a skip in his step, approached Alex's door. He'd put to use the only tuxedo he owned. There weren't many formal occasions for him to attend since his divorce, not that it bothered him of course. When he did dust off the tuxedo however, he pulled it off dashingly. The only problem he'd now face is that Ex Mrs Hunt had been the one to tie his bow tie. This evening, it was laid limp around his neck, remaining untied.

He raised a clenched fist to the large oak door, about to knock just as it swung open before him as. The warmth that radiated from behind it prickled his skin. There was Alex Drake, in all her breathtaking glory, dressed in a glitzy, champagne gown. Her hair had been pinned back, revealing her sharp jawbone, and a crimson red lipstick drew attention to her full lips. Gene's expression had confirmed to Alex what the mirror had already revealed to her: she'd scrubbed up well. "I er..." he started, followed by a short sniff as his gaze fell to the floor; his vocabulary had failed him on this occasion.

"Six thirty. On the dot," Alex chimed, knowing she'd saved Gene from his moment of embarrassment.

"Your chariot awaits, Lady Bolls." Gene shifted his stance by a ninety degree angle, putting the familiar Audi quattro in Alex's eyeline.

"Does that make you my Prince Charming?" She turned back to her D.C.I as she vacated her house, closing the door behind her.

"If you say so." She couldn't be sure, but Alex was near certain Gene's cheeks had tinged pink. The cold, perhaps, she presumed. Either way, he hadn't made eye contact with her since she'd first opened the door.

Gene looked rather dapper. He'd taken Alex's breath away almost as much as she had taken his, though she was definitely better at hiding it. His blonde mane looked soft and fluffy, freshly washed no doubt. As Drake stepped past, the cold, December breeze carried her perfumed scent into Gene's nostrils. She smelled as divine as she looked. Struth, Gene pondered, the rate she's going I'll not last til midnight. He felt a twitch in the proximity below his belt as his D.I sashayed her way towards the car. Ever the gentleman, he strode to the quattro and opened the door for her, for which Alex thanked him.

The pair paced the concrete sidewalk towards Violet's side-by-side, with Gene's coat comfortably sat on Alex's shoulders. She'd laced her fingers together around the Guv's bicep. The cold had nipped at her digits , and the nook had proven very effective at thawing them. Gene would keel over before he'd admit his sense of pride with such beauty clung to his arm. It was undeniable, though. They both recognised some form of change on this occasion, and it wasn't just down to the New Year. They'd so nearly kissed a couple of months back, and would have too had it not been for the rude intrusion of a certain D.C.I.

They descended down the steps and into Violet's, Alex first and Gene just after. The couple's company was well-received from the other three already occupying the usual table at the far end. John was yet to roll in. Probably still lacquering his poofter quiff, Gene concluded. "Ma'am, you look lovely!" Shaz had straight away veered towards Alex as she arrived, embracing her.

"Thanks Shaz, so do you. Chris is one lucky boy." Chris grinned upon hearing his name, though chances were he was clueless as to what Alex was going on about.

"Vilest, 'ow much is your finest bubbly these days?" the Guv bellowed as he sat down. The older woman looked unimpressed by Gene's 'term of endearment,' as he'd labelled it, but still she answered.

"Twelve quid, you tight git-"

"Twelve quid?" Gene's face twisted into a grimace. "Who d'yer think I am, the ruddy bloody Queen?" He scowled and turned back towards his team, back towards Bolly who was wide-eyed and hopeful. Posh toff's got me wrapped 'round her bloody finger. "Fine," he shouted across to the bar, "a bottle and five'a them fancy glasses, if you'd be so kind." The rest of their faces lit up, including Violet's, though Gene's signature pout was firmly in place.

The bottle arrived at the table, tucked into a tacky, gold bucket full of ice, and moments after so did D.S Beaman. Oh good, Gene thought to himself, Johnny boy's arrived. Alex was the first to welcome him. "Come on, sit down." She waved John over, as soon as he'd hooked his coat onto the coat stand. "Could you fetch us another flute please, Violet?" she asked sweetly. Violet said nothing, only smiled stiffly before doing as was asked.

John took a seat beside D.I Carling at the long, rectangular table, as W.D.C Granger poured the champagne. "Y'alright, mate?" Chris inquired across the table. He'd asked exactly what the others had been wondering; John looked liked he'd just seen a ghost.

"Yeah, sorry. Just...don't feel too well. Few drinks, I'll be alright-"

"Right, well," Gene interjected, "I'm sure that can be arranged." Alex shifted, shooting the Guv a glare only to receive a sarcastic smile in return.

Midnight had approached a lot faster than they'd expected. Gene had kept a watchful eye over his female D.I, but to his surprise Beaman had kept his mouth at a distance thus far. Alex had continued to fantasise about kissing Gene at the midnight hour, and relished in his watchful stare. Those eyes, she thought, those eyes could stare anyone into bed, and they probably have on many occasions. Gene didn't much care about anyone else, though he dared not admit that to himself.

"Four...three...two...one..."

The choral countdown had reached its end, celebrated with a symphony of cheers. Alex's battle to get home was stretched even thinner, as the year 1984 became of her. Chris and Shaz's lips had met familiarly, and Ray had managed to attract the likes of a young blonde named Carly. A song vaguely resembling Auld Lang Syne was slurred by the patrons of the cocktail bar. John, on the contrary, was slouched over his drink. 1984 hadn't quite registered in his ledger. He'd planned on celebrating, but a vision had corrupted his mind. A vision of his colleague, well and unharmed, appearing to him. It felt like minutes ago...minutes since he'd watched the jagged ridge of a serrated blade slice her throat. Does this mean I'm dead? He'd dismissed such thoughts, although it left him pondering a far bigger question than what to wear for this evening's celebrations.

"You'll love it here..." Alex's vocal cord's were slightly strained. "At Fenchurch East, I mean. Gene has an awful temperament sometimes...but he has good intentions." She glanced over to the bar, at the man with a Cuban cigar between his lips. She met his eyes, he was already ogling her from a distance. "He's the best D.C.I I've worked for, albeit the most irritating." She was wary not to give away her awareness of John's situation. What good would it do, after all?

"You seem close," John answered in thick Liverpudlian. "You and Hunt, you've history."

"Something like that, I suppose," Alex answered, although John's words appeared to form a statement rather than a question.

Gene had emptied the contents of his glass as the midnight cheers filled the iridescent room. An all too familiar New Years celebration, really. He'd not been graced with a sloppy New Years kiss since Peggy whatshername five years prior, and that had left a lot to be desired. Through Alex's concern over John, she knew there wasn't much she could do to help relieve his struggle. Eventually, to Gene's guilty reassurance, he'd slumped off home. Alex understood John's battle to a far greater extent than the rest of the team, and Gene knew that too.

It was almost three a.m. when D.I Drake's eyes had succumbed to the hour, finally heavy following a long day's work and a long night's drinking. She was hazy, in both vision and mental processes, after six glasses of champagne and many, many more of wine. Gene was notably pie-eyed, too. It seemed even drinking the equivalent of the North Sea in whiskey couldn't distill the image of Alex beneath him. Envisioning her face contorted with pleasure as he thrusted into her hot centre was an image that didn't leave much to be desired, aside from experiencing the real thing of course.

"I'm tired," Alex muttered, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind her ear.

"You're wasted," Gene slurred in response. The other three were too engrossed in their obscene jokes to pay attention to either of them.

"Mm, tipsy. So are you." Her eyebrow raised defensively, but she knew he was right. She was drunk, not that it made a fat lot of difference to her sordid mind.

"The Gene Genie doesn't get wasted, Bolls." His eyes had narrowed, their piercing stare gazing right into her soul.

"The Gene Genie doesn't get much, does he?" Alex had recalled his green-eyed comment from earlier that day.

"Not as much as he'd sometimes care to, no." He leaned closer to her now, and subconsciously she'd reciprocated his motion. Over the confetti-covered table, they'd closed the gap to ten inches at most.

"What are we doing, Gene?" Alex questioned, her mind toying with ideas involving the table on which they leaned. All this confetti would be a nightmare, God only knows where I'd find it.

"You tell me, Bolly-Kecks. You're the one wi' the brains." The Guv sipped from the small, round glass in his grasp, all the while maintaining his eyes' fixation. Alex took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"Do you ever feel like you've lived the same situation a dozen times, only for it to never end the way you'd like?" The intensity of their eye contact formed a growling passion in the pits of their stomachs.

"What are you getting at, Alex?"

She considered her next words very carefully, not wanting to overstep the mark. The mark had faded a little though, what with the fuzzy goggles inebriation had placed on her. "I want to go home." Gene pursed his lips in obvious disappointment, withdrawing into his seat and taking hold of his glass.

"Well don't let me keep yer."

"Take me home, Gene...please."

Ray, Chris and Shaz were none the wiser to the frustration at the opposite end of the table. Gene poured the remaining liquor down his throat, grimacing at the familiar burning sensation. "Right, boys and girl." He rose to his feet, interrupting conversation and drawing in the attention of the other three. "I am going to accompany D.I Screw-Loose 'ere to her humble abode. 'Appy New Year, I will see you all on Monday." Gene bowed, maintaining a nonchalant demeanour as fireworks erupted inside him.

Alex exited and ascended the steps first. It would've given Gene ample opportunity to stare at her arse had he not chivalrously donated his coat once again. "Things are different," Alex began, clenching at the collars of Gene's coat to retain as much warmth as possible.

"You 'avin' another one of your funny turns, Bolly?"

"The team, CID...it's better, lighter...like a weight's been lifted."

"The cogs have realigned..." his voice grumbled, the low tones resonating in his chest cavity. "Keats..." Hunt needn't elaborate, he and Drake had a mutual understanding that they'd kept to themselves. It hadn't ripped things apart in the way Alex predicted it would, quite the contrary in fact. They'd reconstructed their little kingdom, piece by piece. Ray, Chris and Shaz's oblivion had endured. A time would come for them to move on, but the Guv and his female D.I had thought it better to do so on good terms, rather than during the midst of their grief for Viv.

"It's good," Alex responded. "It's good that normality is being restored." Gene let out a blow of air, the heat of his breath forming a white cloud before him.

"Think I'm startin' ter get a bit fed up with normal, Bolls." His stare remained fixed on the frozen concrete beneath his ambling feet. He couldn't determine how opening up made him feel. The Manc Lion, reduced to nothing but a daft pussycat. No matter how much Gene battled, Alex was able to tear down his walls one-by-one, and she knew it, too. She cherished her ability to do so, but longed to know more, be closer. She yearned. If he'd just let me in.

They were frozen in their bearings, the icy quattro now buried in snow beside the curb. Alex could feel every thud of her heart. Like a ball of fire, emitting a blazing heat from within her. "You know...for a man so forthcoming, you don't reveal a great deal."

Gene sniffed, dropping his head before lifting his gaze back to Alex's hazel eyes. "Oh I've got a great deal to reveal, luv, you only 'ad ter ask."

"I'm sure you have, Mr. Hunt." Gene was beginning to feel the Baltic temperature. Being cold's a mindset, son. That was the lesson taught to the small boy in the early 1940s. The boy who'd complained to his father about being unable to feel his toes. The boy whose old man spent money on booze instead coal or firewood. The boy who wasn't allowed to feel cold...

Alex placed her hand over Gene's racing heart. Discovering his pulse was as powerful as her own offered her reassurance. Her palm trailed upwards onto his neck. "Your bow tie," she eyed the black material strewn around Gene's neck. "You could've asked me to tie it."

"Sometimes things are better undone. Trousers for example, or brassieres."

"You don't fool me, Gene Hunt." Alex smiled, disregarding Gene's crude get-out card. He faintly tilted his head back, somewhat shying away from the cold hand that was now pressed to his cheek. "What is it that you're so afraid of? Is it me?" Alex's gaze flickered between the guv's eyes and pouted lips. Intoxicated or not, she was no fool. She had to admit the Dutch courage was helping though, if she was to be honest to herself. Gene remained speechless, matching Alex's gaze while the sparkle in his eyes danced through reflections of the festive street lights.

His breathing shallowed. "Alex-"

"What?" she replied almost instantly.

He took hold of her hand and pried it away from his face, though he didn't let go of it. "I may be a bastard, but I'm not the kind of bastard who takes advantage of drunk women." Gene examined her crimson lips, unable to deny the magnetism that pulled him to her, and vice versa.

Alex sighed with growing exasperation. She wanted him, neededhim...wanted to feel him. "Kiss me, Gene." Her desire had taken the wheel now. "That's all," Alex placed both hands on his neck, her index fingers brushing Gene's earlobes. "If I kiss you, will I be taking advantage?"

The Guv didn't move a muscle, but he didn't retract as Alex closed the space between them. Christ, I'll have a cardiac, he worried. Slowly, but surely, the gap reduced. As her lips brushed against his, the rip-roaring desire overpowered his wavering confidence.

"Bolls," Gene groaned as their lips parted for a split second. He was fearful of what he might do when he could no longer control himself. What if she woke up wi' regrets? Meanwhile Alex's fingers combed through Gene's mane, her body already reacting to the taste of liquor in his mouth.

Oh sod it. Gene surrendered, gripping the arch of Bolly's back to pin her against him. His tongue broke free, exploring Alex's mouth without inhibition until a moan escaped her throat. The lion had found its courage, as his lips ventured to Alex's jawbone. With a fistful of her hair, he pulled her face to one side, biting at her neck. His trousers felt considerably tighter.

Alex had been immobilised by Gene's strength. Their salivas combined, opening a lustful can of worms that could be contained no longer. He forced Alex's back to the quattro, as his throbbing manhood pressed against her groin.

Wolf whistles from a gang of young men passing by was enough to pry them apart. With his palms pressed to the quattro either side of Bolly's shoulders, Gene watched her chest rise and fall quickly. Still got it then, he asserted to himself. Alex could still feel Gene's stiffened cock nestled against her thigh. "Take me home," she panted. Gene nodded, lifting one arm to open the passenger door to Bolly's left.

She fell into the seat, not saying another word for the entire journey. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, nothing was ever uncomfortable between Alex and Gene anymore. Nerves formed a veil over the pair, but what was about to happen was inevitable, and had been a long time coming. A very, very long time coming.