A/N: Some angsty shit for y'all. REVEIW! DO IT, DO IT NOOWWWW!
The ring had been paid for and collected, it was tucked away in the pocket of his overcoat which was currently hung up in the hall. The coat's owner lay awake, staring up at the dark ceiling. What had he done? Sam Tyler had been like this, Gene had laughed at him, all love-struck, shitting himself every time he was reminded of the impending proposal. As Sam had drummed, nervously on his knee caps, Gene had called him something along the lines of 'a big fairy.' Now who was the big fairy? Gene was the big bloody fairy, complete with ballet skirt and pixie dust.
He and Millie had discussed how Gene was going to do it. He wanted it to be special…maybe take her away, do it under the Eifel Tower or something. But he knew he'd cock it up. Millie had wasted no time in impressing upon him the importance of the circumstances of the proposal. It was this discussion which had given rise to these uncomfortable feelings.
What on earth was he doing? He'd promised himself never to marry again, not after last time…he'd only married Karen because of the baby, and after the stillbirth…well, things hadn't gone too well. That was when Gene had started drinking, hardcore drinking, getting pissed off his tits every night just to come home and pester her for sex. God, no wonder she'd left. It was losing Sam that'd done it. Having a best friend, someone to confide in, as much as he hated to admit it, had really helped, but after he was gone, there was nothing to stop him descending into alcoholism, setting himself up for the painful climb back to normality. Ok, so he wasn't exactly on The Wagon, but he could manage the drink now, he didn't truly need it any more.
Why was he doing this again? Why? What had possessed him? Weren't they fine without all that bollocks? Gene sighed. His eye was caught by the hipflask on the bedside table. No, no. He didn't need it now, though his head told him he did, his gut told him that he didn't. He always trusted his gut. It was invariably right.
But what did his gut tell him now? It was hard to distinguish. On the one hand, he'd struck lucky here, (would he ever even meet a woman better than Alex, let alone attain one?) but somewhere, deep inside, lay the nagging, commitment-phobic, lone wolf instinct, telling him repeatedly to get out. Get out now.
But then he remembered the hours of solitude in that room, before Millie had come. He remembered how he had pined for Alex.
"I don't tend to kiss old men, Guv."
She had always been there for him, always. She'd made him feel like a man again that time he'd done his back in. She'd looked after him without any thought for personal gain, without any sort of though, in fact. She'd told him since that it just seemed right; the natural thing to do.
And this was natural. It felt natural. She didn't demand that he constantly adorn her with heart-felt professions of love, she knew that he wasn't a romantic man. She didn't expect him to tell her he loved her every single day; she wasn't that insecure. The relationship was not jaded, they had not lost their spark, but they also didn't feel the need to leap on one another every half hour. It just seemed right. They just seemed to work.
"I'm telling you Guv, you're barking up the wrong tree."
"An' I'm telling you Bolls: sod off."
The rest of the team sat back in bliss. This was how things should be. The Guv and DI Drake were arguing again and, despite being shut in Gene's office, their voices carried into main CID, rattling the blinds as they went.
"You're un-bloody-believable!"
"I know Bolls, but keep that kind 'o talk inside the bedroom-eh?"
"Bastard."
"Ooh, how very creative of you! Got any more?" The argument had now descended into full on insults, the drugs case forgotten.
"For once," stormed Alex, marching round his desk to stand beside him, glaring down into his defiant eyes, "why can't you just admit you're bloody wrong?"
"Because I'm not bloody wrong!" he said, his voice rising dangerously. He stood up, suddenly to meet her, anger radiating from his every pore.
"Fine then!" she said, shrilly, "FINE! Just do it your way, totally piss it up, as per usual, but don't come crying to me when you end up in front of the Super." she stalked towards the door, casting a look to kill over her shoulder at him as she paused, "And you can forget about dinner tonight!"
The door slammed.
It was for this reason that Gene came to be sitting in the pub with Ray, three hours later, instead of at some fancy restaurant Alex had picked out for them, nursing a pint and laughing raucously.
"Nah, Ray. I'd rather be here drinking than at that shithole."
"Where were you off to?"
"Some French place." Ray grimaced in response,
"Ma'am still pissed off then?"
"Looks like it." he muttered, taking a healthy swig from his glass, raising a hand to wipe the beer-head moustache which had collected on his top lip.
"Probably 'er time of the month." smiled Ray.
" 'er time of the day more like."
"Trouble in paradise then?"
"No more than usual," said Gene, with a half smile, "wouldn't be the same without the arguments, mind," Ray grunted as a sign of his ascent, distracted now, from Gene by the woman sitting alone at the far end of the bar, her legs crossed and painted fingernails drumming on a glass of whiskey. Gene followed his gaze. "eh up Raymondo, she's a bit of alright, isn't she?"
"Not half." agreed Ray, covertly admiring the woman over the top of his pint.
"Looks like she's been stood up."
"You reckon?" said Ray, visibly straightening himself as his hopes raised skywards.
"Yeah." said Gene, "This is when you pounce." Ray leant forward slightly, moving one foot from his barstool, but stopped however, as he seemed to check himself.
"Nah, just after a quiet drink." he said, with a furtive look at his DCI.
"Don't mind me," grinned Gene, "best be getting off anyway." and with that, he rose from the bar and moved towards the door.
"Thanks Guv." said Ray, returning the smile, moving slyly over towards the lone red-head on the pre-text of ordering himself another drink. Gene called across the room to Ray, in a manner which he knew would easily carry to the woman.
"See you tomorrow at 9 o' clock sharp DI Carling." he said, pulling on his coat and putting particular stress upon Ray's rank. The woman looked, first at Gene, and then, in interest, turned her gaze to Ray, signalling to Gene that his words had had the desired effect. Ray, noticing the her attention looked over at Gene gratefully as he answered:
"Night Guv."
As Gene closed the door behind him, Gene smiled at the blurry shape of the woman shuffling her way over to Ray through the frosted glass.
"What the hell?" Alex sat with her arms and legs crossed on the sofa upon his return.
"What?" he replied, moodily.
"Where have you been?"
"The pub!" he said, defensively, raising his eyebrows
"er…Dinner?" she stated, danger radiating from her every pore.
"What happened to 'you can forget about dinner' then?" he said, marvelling at the unfairness of it all.
"Well I didn't mean that, did I?" she spat, standing up, suddenly.
"Oh, I'm sorry." said Gene, riled, "how bloody stupid of me. Of course that was one of those things you say, but you don't mean. How on earth could I miss that one?"
"You're acting like a bloody child!" she said.
"I'm acting like a child? I'm not the one who expects others to instinctively know whether or not I mean what I bloody say. You expect me just to know that you weren't being serious? Come on, Bolls, get a grip!"
Big mistake.
Her eyes flashed with fury. Drawing herself up to her full height, she barked back at him,
"You know what your problem is Gene, among many, many others? You can't take anything seriously. You don't take work seriously, you don't take me seriously and you bloody well don't take us seriously!" she finished with a growl, her breast heaving.
For a second, Gene merely fumed.
"Right." he said, the level way in which he spoke far worse than his shout, "Right," he repeated, "so I don't take anything seriously? You sure about that?" teeth gritted, tore the tiny box out of his coat pocket and slammed it onto the coffee table. "How's that for bloody serious?"
He stormed from the house, the loud bang of the door reverberating through the flat as Alex stared, dumbstruck, at the ring box now sitting silently on the varnished wood.