"You're being a twat," Gene told himself as he rummaged in Alex's fridge for some ice. He couldn't fail to notice the bottle of champagne sitting there. Bollinger too… On impulse he grabbed the bottle as well as the frozen peas and took them back to where Alex was lying on the sofa with her leg propped up on a pillow.

"You'd better … er…"

He made a vague gesture and had to quickly shut his eyes as she unhooked her stocking and rolled it down her leg. Bloody woman was trying to give him a heart attack, he thought as he shoved the peas on her injured ankle. He honestly had no idea why he as doing this. Carrying her up to her flat was one thing but accepting her invitation inside was just the stupid, girly, nancy sort of thing that Tyler would have done. Gene Hunt didn't help a bird when there was no chance of getting into her knickers…

He poured them each a glass of champagne and then went back to the kitchen to sort out the paper wrapped parcels of fish and chips that were warming in the oven.

"You're a domestic god, Guv," she purred when he handed her the food.

"Don't you mean sex god?"

Alex laughed and Gene felt his self esteem drop just that little bit further. She'd effectively tied a metaphorical apron around his waist and sent him out to serve tea at the WI. He was starting to feel that she would never see him as anything other than a slightly annoying colleague. He didn't like the right music, the right food … Gene was well aware of his faults, the reasons his marriage had disintegrated but with Alex he had always thought it would be different. Working late wouldn't matter because she'd be there too. He'd be able to go to the boozer when he wanted because Alex would be with him, knocking back the red wine and getting pissed. The murders, the rapes, and those times when he had to look a woman in the eye and tell her that her baby was never coming home… somehow it would be easier to bear with Alex standing at his side. Sitting on the floor next to her sofa, taking sips of champagne and eating chips he realised that his chance had probably come and gone. Who was he kidding? He'd never had a chance.

She was very quiet as they ate, so much so that he missed the point when she fell asleep. The dribble of champagne on his shoulder was a dead giveaway though and he took the glass from her hand and removed the plate from where it rested on her lap.

"Bols… Bolly?" he said, shaking her gently.

"What?" came her mumbled reply.

"Time for bed, love. You can't sleep here."

"Help me?"

Sighing to himself, Gene climbed to his feet and held out his hand. There was a strange expression on her face when she took it… something he couldn't fathom.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing … just a memory."

"Of what?

"The first time you held my hand."

"Blimey Bols, have you been at the paint stripper again?"

"You really don't get it do you?"

"No Alex I don't. I'm knackered. Can we save the mystic mutterings until tomorrow?"

She laughed again but nodded.

"Yes, yes we can do that."

"Good. Now come on. I'll tuck you in and read you a bed time story."

Gene had been in Alex's bedroom before. There had been a couple of occasions when he had stormed in first thing in the morning to demand she got her knickers on to deal with a case. This time… this time it was different. The bed was freshly made, the sheets crisp and new. There were candles on the dressing table and a negligee lying on the bed that looked like nothing more than a couple of scraps of black lace. He felt himself harden at the thought of her wearing it… shit… He dug deep, trying to find all of his anger, his resentment.

"Expecting someone?" he sneered.

"This wasn't quite how I hoped the evening would end."

"No… I suppose not. Jimbo will be disappointed."

"Jimbo? What are you talking about?"

"Jim, James… DCI Keats. Or do you have some kind of pervy pet name for him? Mr Big? Except his dick's probably so small he couldn't keep a hamster satisfied."

For a second he thought that she was going to hit him. Alex Drake could hit as hard as a bloke and twice as accurately so he took an instinctive step backwards. But then she wobbled on her bad foot and Gene impulsively reached out to support her again.

"When will you get it into your thick Northern skull that I have no intention of shagging DCI Keats!"

"What was he doing at the bloody restaurant then?"

"I don't know!"

Her voice had reached a pitch that was almost ultrasonic. It was weird, he realised, having a blazing row with someone whilst holding them so close that they almost felt like a part of you. The same thought must have occurred to Alex. Her face softened and her hand came up to stroke his cheek, a caress so tender that he felt for a moment as if his heart had stopped. No one had ever touched him like this… no one.

"I wanted to have dinner with you Gene… no one else."

He still couldn't believe it, couldn't trust her to tell him the truth. Except that if this was a wind up then why was she still playing the game?

"Why?" he asked, "Why me?"

She moved away from him then, slipping from his grasp and sitting herself on the bed. He hoped it was just because her ankle was hurting and not because she needed to distance herself from him.

"I shot you for fuck's sake!"

"Yes you did. You also called me a liar, a bad mother… "

"Shit. Don't remind me."

For a second he felt like he was married again. His ex-wife had been an expert at pointing out every misdemeanour but Alex reached out and took his hand, guiding him to sit beside her.

"… and you saved my life," she said quietly.

He looked down at their joined hands, the way her fingers twined with his, stroking, caressing…

"I should go."

"Stay."

She almost sounded as if she meant it.

"I might never leave," he growled.

Kissing her was easy. He only had to bend his head a little.

"I might not want you to," her lips whispered against his.

Gene took a chance, softly grabbing her breast, marvelling at the feel and the weight of it in his hand. She let out a little gasp and he finally realised that she wanted this …

… she wanted him.

And he loved her for it.