I don't own Ashes to Ashes
---
Alex awoke to the sensation of fingers caressing her thigh, stroking up and down in slow yet firm movements, mere inches away from her rapidly melting crux. Her back was pulled flush to Gene's chest and they were lying hip-to-hip; she bit her lip, trying desperately not to move in case he stopped his subtle ministrations and pulled his body away from hers, though it became more and more difficult to remain unresponsive the longer his fingers continued, the more she became aware of something hard pressing firmly into her rear...
"Gene..." she breathed softly, head lolling back onto his shoulders with a shaky sigh. He didn't react, and she turned her face to find his eyes closed, head resting on the pillow, breathing steady and slow... He was still asleep. For a moment, she considered simply letting his fingers continue on their slow and teasing journey upwards and letting whatever happened, happen... but somehow that seemed like taking advantage, and despite the fact she was in a state of arousal she hadn't felt since her first days with Peter, she couldn't bring herself to allow his subconscious to control his movements; if the two of them were ever to cross that line, it was going to be a sober, conscious decision...
But, she asked herself, if her hand just happened to wander in her sleep, would she mind terribly if Gene let her take that all the way? The answer was no, and she flushed inwardly as she realized that the thought itself was having a liquidating effect on her centre, and had to close her eyes briefly to fight off thoughts of that same scenario...
"Gene!" She repeated, more sharply, telling herself she was not to think about the feel of his fingers on her skin and shifting her body slightly towards his; his eyes, heavy with sleep, fluttered open, but Alex barely noticed, since his hand had slipped, and now grazed the silk fabric of her underwear as her mouth formed a wide 'o', her eyes closing to the tingle of warmth now spreading towards her stomach... A small groan from Gene brought her back to earth and her fluttering lids suddenly flew open, eyes wide as he stared down into her face, looking directly at her lips...
"Bloody 'ell Bolly, close yer gob would yer? Can' bloody think as it is!"
---
Having disentangled themselves from one another, with many a sly glance and flushes of red skin– the latter coming solely from Alex, whilst Gene maintained a smug look that practically screamed at Alex that, next time, she should simply allow his devilishly teasing fingers to slide all the way into her underwear with no thought to the consequences- they began to ready themselves for work. Ten minutes after slipping from the warmth of the duvet, Alex walked into the kitchen to find Gene leaning over the cooker, trying, and failing it seemed, to poach an egg, still wearing his jeans and no shirt.
"Bloody chickens," he was muttering under his breath, "always making things bloody difficult for the rest of us with these stupid-" he tapped the egg in his hand with a knife, too gently to make a mark, "bloody-" he hit it again, slightly harder, enough to crack it slightly, but not enough to release any of the eggs insides, "eggshells!" At the last, his hit was so hard the egg snapped clean in half, the shell and the eggs contents all splashing into the boiling hot water in the pan that sat simmering on the hob. "Bugger!" He growled, just as Alex laughed, pushing off the doorframe she had rested her head on and sitting herself down at the kitchen table. Gene turned to look at her, eyes narrowed as he said, "last time I try an' make you breakfast, Bolly!"
Stifling a grin, Alex stood up, sidling over to him and peering over his shoulder into the gooey mess that might once have made a decent egg, were it not for the large pieces of shell and exploded yolk. "I'm sorry," she said, trying to sound serious, but failing as her voice cracked "it looks... lovely."
Gene looked round at her, silently trying to think of something that would allow her to stand so close to him for a while longer, enjoying the warmth of her hands on his waist, resting lightly above the waistband of his jeans, fingers teasing his skin with feather light movements as she stood up on tiptoe to see over his shoulder. "Fancy some toast, Bols?"
"I don't know..." Alex said, nervously eyeing Gene's failed egg. "Can you cook toast?"
Gene turned around, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow as he leant back on the counter. "I'm no Delia Smith, Bolly, but I can toast a piece o' bread!"
Ten minutes later, Alex was scraping a thick layer of black from the top of her toast, grinning as Gene slumped in his chair, biting on his own blackened breakfast with a grimace.
---
They were the first to arrive at CID that morning, so there was no need for the timed discretion they'd had to employ in recent weeks. With a nod in her direction, Gene entered his office, sitting himself down and immediately picking up the phone. Smiling to herself, Alex settled herself at her desk, readying herself to work and starting to work her way through an impressive pile of various case notes. Chris, Shaz and Ray entered at around ten past nine, and the morning passed quickly and without much note.
At one o'clock, the phone rang.
---
"Guv?" Alex said five minutes later, peeking her head around his office door before stepping in and closing it quietly behind her. Looking up, Gene saw the pale flush of her skin and frowned, removing his feet from the desk and taking the smoking cigarette from his lips.
"What's in yer knickers, Bols?" He asked, blowing a soft stream of smoke to one side, forehead creased in ill-disguised worry.
Alex's face was drawn, her lips thin as she said, "just had a call through... Jeremy McKellen's been found dead in his house – multiple stab wounds."
Gene gulped, nodding, "right... who reported it?"
Shrugging, Alex replied, "we don't know – it was anonymous."
Grabbing his coat from its peg, Gene opened the door. "Come on fizzy-knickers, job to do!" His voice was full of its normal bravado, but even as Alex nodded, trying to banish the need to embrace him and allow him to hold her securely in the circle of his arms, she saw a tender streak of concern in his blue eyes, and gave him a small smile of thanks before walking out ahead of him. As she left, she tried her hardest not to jump forward in shock, feeling Gene's hand as it brushed tenderly over the bare skin at the base of her back, his touch of silent reassurance leaving the smallest trace of heat in its wake as he suddenly pulled his touch away from her and went back to being 'Guv'.
----
"No signs of a struggle," Alex mused thoughtfully, glancing around the living room they had sat in less than twenty-four hours previously, eyes deliberately avoiding the body which sprawled across the floor, her gaze scanning the room in every other direction. Gene was pulling up sofa cushions, tossing them aside and giving no thought to where they landed, as though he had simply lost his car keys and there was not a dead body laying a metre away from him. After a few moments, however, he let out a triumphant laugh, surprisingly evil in nature, nodding his head in the direction of the sofa and motioning for Alex to join him.
"Bloody gold mine, Bols," he said, and Alex half-expected to find a roll of twenty-pound notes. Instead, her eyes fell on a glinting bread-knife, handle white but smeared with blood. The edge was serrated and bloodied, and Alex grimaced.
"So whoever it was panicked and hid the weapon," she said softly. Gene nodded.
"Woman then," he concluded with a shrug. Alex blinked- she had assumed the same thing, but hadn't expected him to voice it first.
"Why?" She asked in disbelief.
Gene explained it away with a shrug, "Only a woman knocks someone in an' 'ides the weapon under a pillow, you nonce."
Alex closed her eyes with a sigh; perhaps they were not on the same wavelength, after all. "I was thinking more along the lines of it being a crime of passion," she said softly.
With a squint, Gene wrinkled his nose at the bloodied corpse and muttered, "ain't nothing passionate about that from where I'm sittin', Bols."
"Not like that, Gene," she sighed. "A bread knife is hardly the weapon of a pre-planned murder, is it? And look at the wounds," kneeling down, she pointed to the erratic stab wounds in Jeremy McKellen's chest, grimacing slightly at the blood as she singled out each mark in turn. "One below the rib, one in the stomach, one in the shoulder- it was a panicked attack, probably multiple strokes in a very short space of time, none of them really aimed anywhere in particular. And look at his facial expression – shock." She pointed to Jeremy's pale, wide-eyed expression.
"He's cut on the arms." Gene muttered, lifting the victims left arm up and revealing a deep gouge in the flesh, then repeating the action on the right. A small cut on the wrist, as though the blade had only scratched across the skin. "'ad a case up in Manchester with Sam- bloody fairy chewed me 'ear off for arresting the wrong soddin' bloke- the guy got lashed with leather strappin' off of one o' the factory belts.... wounds lined up good an' proper in the end... wouldn't lemme live down the fact gay-boy science won for weeks after tha'..." he trailed off, then shook his head, lifting the arms up and positioning them up with the wounds in a protective cross over his chest. The cut on the right hand wrist lined up with the wound in his left shoulder, leaving a red line which deepened the further from the wrist it spread, stopping suddenly. The other arms' injury lined up with the wound beneath the ribs, and the mark on the stomach stood alone from the other two, a large red stain spreading over Jeremy's shirt and stomach. Gene tried to hide his pride at his findings when Alex smiled approvingly at him, replacing the slight upturning of his lips with a scowl as he reminded himself that it was he who remained the superior officer.
"So 'e shat 'imself and stuck up 'is arms to protect 'is chest then," He surmised with a quirk of the eyebrows.
Alex shook her head reprovingly, "do you see any evidence here, Gene, that would suggest he, as you so tactfully put it, 'shat himself'?"
Gene shrugged, dropping the victims' arms and standing up quickly. "I ain't fannyin' about in 'is y-fronts, Bolly, but if you wanna prove my theory, feel free to 'ave a gander." He lit a cigarette, looking down at her as she wrinkled her nose in distaste, standing up and dusting her hands.
"You realize we're going to have to give statements?" Alex said, meeting his eyes; Gene snorted at her in apparent amusement, exhaling heavily.
"I'm a bloody Police officer you plonk, not a murder suspect," he took another drag, then looked down at Jeremy McKellen's body. "Not that I'm all that sorry 'bout our loss," he admitting, toe-ing the body with his boot and grimacing in distaste, "bugger!" He cursed, "I got blood on me good shoes."
Alex closed her eyes in disbelief, choosing to ignore his last comment and speaking softly, "Gene, we were probably two of the last people to see him alive; it's procedure. We have to give statements."
"Bloody 'ell," Gene grumbled, looking down again in disgust. "'e was a waste o' space when 'e was alive an' now he's taking up my precious time when he's copped it; useless little git." He dropped his cigarette and stubbed it out, ignoring Alex's reprimanding glare as he did so and turning to the forensic investigator closest to him. "Bag it up and get it all sorted by four. I want this wrapped up by dinner."
Alex frowned. "Gene, you can't possibly rush a murder investigation just because-"
"It's a case of fingerprints and evidence, Bolly – we get the forensics report by four an' we can bag the scum by dinner." He gave one last glance over the room before rubbing his hands together and tilting his head towards the door. "Right Bols, let's go."
---
Sat in the car, Gene turned on the radio as Alex went into overdrive about statements and procedure and all the other "–la-dee-dar posh-bollucks!" He stared her down as she started up again, shouting over her protests with his own, considerably louder ones. "Unless any of that bloody evidence in there suggests one of us killed 'im, Bolly, I am not handing in a bloody gay-boy statement and that's final!" His gaze was withering and though Alex briefly considered arguing, she didn't press the point.
"I don't like it," she said finally, "but you're evidently going to remain as stubborn as a mule on the point." She crossed her arms and looked out the window as Gene turned up the volume on the radio, grimacing as Betty Everett filtered through the speakers, moving to change the station when Alex pushed his hand away.
"I like this song," she explained at his reproving look. "It reminds me of..." she blushed. She wasn't going to continue that sentence since, actually, as the lyrics of 'It's In His Kiss' trickled into her head, the only person she was thinking about was him, Gene Hunt, and the heartfelt, if awkward, admittance he had made to her the previous evening whilst he thought she was asleep.
In truth, the thought had been with her all day and she hadn't yet managed to really consider the magnitude of his statement; did it mean he was relenting, allowing her to make a move and act on the feelings that they were both trying and failing to reign in? Or was it just a general statement, a proclamation that whoever he was with, she would never hear him tell anyone that he loved them? She looked at him as he tapped his gloved fingers against the steering wheel and hid a small smile behind her hand at the resolute pout he had put in place at her announcement of liking the song. Looking at his face, the brow creased in thought, she wondered what was going through his mind, what he was thinking about... or who, for that matter...
----
"If you wanna know if he loves you so, it's in his kiss... that's where it is..." Gene rolled his eyes as the last lines faded into the news announcements, hiding his inner wonderings on just how true those words were.
Maybe he wasn't the only bloke who failed to say those three little words after all... in fact, thinking about it, Ray would never say those words, either... not that Ray was a model for good relationships, of course, but it proved that it wasn't just Gene who had problems with emotional intimacy, which, perhaps, meant that Gene wasn't quite such a useless lump when it came to life and love after all... Chris might have said it, but he was hardly a landmark for manhood, nor would he ever be, so that wasn't anything to worry about...
Looking at her, he sighed. God, he didn't want to go back to work... maybe he could persuade her to go out for lunch? It wasn't like they'd had a hearty breakfast and she'd say no, was it? Well... he might be able to ask her slightly more tactfully than that, but...
"Right Bols," he said eventually, turning the volume down again and looking over to her. "We listened to your fizzy-fanny tosh; what do we do now?"
Alex blinked, wondering about the allusiveness of that question; surely, she thought, they should be heading back for work? But maybe not, since he hadn't yet pulled away and seemed in no hurry to do so anytime soon... Realising that he was handing her an opportunity on a plate, however unknowingly, she shifted in her seat, waggling her eyebrows as she whispered, sending him a sidelong glance, "I don't know..."
Gene rolled his eyes. "Fat lot of use you are," he muttered, reaching for the ignition.
Mind fogged up with Betty Everett's words, the only thing Alex could think of slipped from her lips, voice soft and suggestive... "I could... kiss you?"
And in that moment, Gene's heart jumped into his throat, he stalled the car and simultaneously wondered if she'd hit her head and gone into a concussive state... Turning to look at her, he found her staring intently at the radio, as though scared it would disappear if she relaxed her concentration. Her face was red with embarrassment, but she was making no effort to take the comment back, and he gulped.
"'ey?" He managed, his voice laced with disbelief as he found himself unable to make anything more than a pathetic utterance.
"I said I could kiss you..." Alex whispered, flushing even deeper red and biting her lip, not glancing in his direction at all. It struck her in that moment that she was deadly serious about the proposition, whether he acted upon it or not, and that she sounded like a complete and utter idiot for saying it. In fact, whilst she couldn't remember the last time she'd been this serious about anything, she couldn't remember ever feeling quite so nervous, either... and as she waited for a response, she began to feel the tugging of rejection at the pit of her stomach, threatening to overcome her, wondering if it was still possible to retract the comment and pass it off as a flirtatious suggestion that he simply overreacted to... It wasn't like they were foreign to flirtation... In fact, they were quite well practised at it, so, if needs be, it could be only too easy to simply pull the statement back with a grin and tell him she wasn't drunk enough to engage in mouth-to-mouth contact with him... Easy...
Gene continued to stare at her for several moments, searching for some sign that she was joking, flirting, about to take it back... but if anything, she was just sat there waiting for him to react, to say or do something... only what did he do? If he leant over and kissed her, they could just be speeding in the right direction for a collision with a brick wall, and if he didn't, he'd end up regretting it...
And then there was the slight problem that, if indeed she was joking, he'd look like a complete and utter prat leaning across the seat towards her and having her shove him off... so he decided instead to leave it to her; shifting in his seat, and hooking his arm casually around the headrest he twisted himself towards her and spoke, voice full of daring, but laced with meaning.
"Don't hold back, Alex," he told her softly, eyes piercing into the side of her head until she turned to look at him, her hazel meeting his blue, full of questions.
It wasn't lost on her that he used her first name for what was probably only the third time since her arrival in 1982.
Nor did it escape her that, on that fateful first day, these same words had passed between them with a very different meaning and outcome; then, they were said in joy and flirtation and now... now they were full of trepidation, of vulnerability and uncertainty...
But as she looked at him, seeing the daring glint in his eyes, combined with that slight hint of weakness and fond emotion, she found the answers to all of the unresolved questions whirring through her brain, and suddenly she found herself leaning towards him, slower than she could ever remember moving in her whole life, eyes riveted on him...
Gene followed suit, leaning forward with his eyes locked on hers, neither bothering to look at anything else, and it was only when they were nose-to-nose that they thought to tilt their heads aside... But whichever way he leaned, so did she, and eventually Gene pulled slightly back, rubbing awkwardly at his neck as he scowled at her. Frustrated, he muttered, "You go left an' I'll go right."
Alex frowned, "that won't work..."
"'course it will, both going opposite directions that way!" he dropped his hand from his neck and placed it nervously on his own leg, "bloody genius, me!"
"No-" she started to argue, then changed tact. "Ok... you go left..."
Gene narrowed his eyes. "You always 'ave to undermine me don't you, posh-knickers? I say go left, so you decide that you'll go right instead!" He didn't resist doing as she instructed, though, tilting his face aside and looking at her expectantly.
She smiled nervously at his apparent obedience, eyes not leaving his as she leant to the side, slowly leaning in to within a few inches of his face and stopping, looking at him questioningly...
She saw him gulp, heard him mutter 'shit' under his breath... and then they'd both leant in, brushed lips, and simultaneously jerked away to their opposite windows, staring out into the street in silence, Gene pushing his fist against his mouth to stop himself swearing, whilst Alex bit her lip and silently cursed herself; she hadn't expected fireworks and violins, but they'd both acted like nervous teenagers playing spin-the-bottle and barely managed a whole second... what if she'd blown it completely, and that was her last chance? He wouldn't want to spend the night anymore, he'd be awkward and far-off and she'd have to pretend she didn't mind that he was going to move all of his stuff from her flat, go back to his own house, and sleep alone or, worse, with numerous strippers of the same integrity as the previous nights adventures... and they'd have to work together, and she'd have to pretend it never happened, and – no, she thought, stop panicking.
Gene, meanwhile, was closing his eyes and reprimanding himself for not having grabbed her by the face and kissed her into a frenzy, instead of following her instructions, leaning to the left and settling for a barely-there brush of the lips... it was almost as bad as those kisses his Aunt Jane used to force on him at Christmas parties, despite his obvious chagrin and his evident dislike when she pulled at his cheeks and called him 'Geney-weeny'...
And, he thought, it didn't help that Alex had built up both his and her expectations by listening to that god-awful song; because if that song was anything to go by, his kiss hadn't said 'I love you', but instead practically screamed 'I'm an incompetent virgin whose never been kissed- please take pity on me.' He'd had enough first kisses to know that they weren't always good, but he'd never pulled away actually doubting his ability... Looking across at her, he saw her looking out the window, lip indented where her tooth was teasing at it lightly, as though she were worried, nervous, upset even...
With a stifled groan, he muttered, "that was bloody awful!" And instantly, the tension-which had previously had been thick enough to cut with a knife- was broken, and Alex's face split into a grin that, evidently, agreed with his deductions.
"It wasn't the best," she conceded, mouth tilting up at the corners. They stared for a few moments, both searching for something else to say, before Gene cleared his throat, starting up the car and pulling away, racing back to the station, as though if he drove at breakneck speed he could leave the memory of their abysmal kiss behind him... When he pulled up outside the station, however, his hopes were dashed as he looked over at her.
In the five minute drive, they'd said nothing, and now Gene wondered how best to approach the situation. Somehow, 'sorry I kiss like a pansy' didn't quite cut it, and anything else seemed either too over the top or too blasé and uncaring... He could quite imagine her face if he turned around and said 'look, love, I've never had any complaints before, it must be your fault', and wasn't quite ready to have an argument based on their kissing ability...
So he decided to avoid the topic altogether, turning the key in the ignition and saying, with as much normality as possible, "right, come on Bols, lets bang up some scum an' we'll be in Luigi's by dinnertime!"
The silence that followed told him he would have been safer going with the pansy comment; a look of hurt flashed across Alex's face, which she quickly attempted to cover up by turning away and reaching for the door handle. "Yes, Guv..." she muttered, fingers closing on the handle, face turned away from him...And suddenly he didn't care about sounding rough-and-tough, or the fact they were parked up directly in front of the station with a high probability that someone would walk out and see them, and before he'd really thought about it, his hand was shooting out to clasp her wrist in his hold, tugging her back as she went to open the door, other hand cupping her cheek as he twisted her face to look him in the eye, shifting forwards and towering above her, heart in his chest as he looked her in the face...
Tears glistened on the surface of her eyes, and he felt himself shatter, his resolve splintering; he'd told himself nearly three weeks ago that he couldn't be with her because he knew he would hurt her, and that he wouldn't be with her for that very reason... and yet now, he didn't know which side of the line between friend and partner he stood on... He didn't want to hurt her, and yet his side-stepping their kiss had left in her eyes a pain he had witnessed only once- when she spoke of Molly.
And suddenly his primal instinct was to banish that fear and pain from her, to hold her, to comfort her, to press his mouth to hers and kiss away any doubts she might have... And, having stared down into her eyes for nearly thirty seconds as he debated that very scenario, with an intensity in his eyes that was slowly melting her stomach, Gene moved to close the gap between them, pressing their lips together with a wonderful mix of tenderness and ferocity. Both of his hands moved now to cup her face, holding it prone in his hands as he coaxed her mouth into submission, tongue teasing against her lips lightly before increasing the pressure of his mouth, teeth nibbling and chewing softly on her lower lip before he deepened his attentions considerably, Alex's mouth responding enthusiastically beneath his, opening and allowing the gentle entanglement of tongues...
When he pulled away, he stayed close enough that their mouths were barely more than two inches apart, his breath hot on her face and eyes still vaguely unfocused, not daring to pull back in case she overcame the moment of breathlessness and decided to slap him...
But she said nothing, simply staring into his eyes with a glazed look he couldn't quite place, her hand slowly trailing up over his chest, across his shoulder and up to his neck, stroking and caressing the skin tentatively, transfixed by the sheer masculinity of him in such close proximity.
"Better," he muttered softly, eyes still locked on hers. And even though it was not a question, Alex nodded her agreement.
"Yes," she said softly. "Much better..." And it was; as she subconsciously licked her lips to savour the last remnants of his taste, she was surprised by the warmth of him, the delightful combination of flavours that inhabited his mouth... It was unashamedly whiskey and cigarettes, but beneath that there lay a hint of spice and sweetness that she neither expected nor thought necessary, but which added an extra delight to the experience and made her seriously consider repeating it...
Gene moved his head slightly in an almost imperceptible nod, pressing his lips to hers only briefly before pulling back, releasing her entirely and stepping out of the car without another word, shutting his door and strolling around to pull hers open, smirking at the sight of her raising a finger to her lips in something akin to disbelief.
"Come on Fizzy-knickers," he said, holding the door open and bending down to look at her. "Don't care 'ow good a kisser I am, you ain't sitting on that scrawny arse of yours all day. Move it!"
Alex nodded, unfastening her seatbelt and slipping her legs out of the car; as she stood up, she caught her foot on the kerb, stumbling forwards into Gene's hold, brain barely registering anything but the scent of his aftershave in her nostrils. She could feel his chuckle resonating from deep within his chest, and was about to reprimand him when his hand slid gently over the curve of her arse, mouth teasing against her ear as he spoke. "This arse is definitely too good to be sat on, Bolly..." with a soft slap to her denim-clad behind, he turned away, hearing Alex's squeak of surprise and smirking to himself as he began to ascend the steps into CID.
---
Walking back into the office, Gene was greeted by Ray, whose face was solemn and uncharacteristically drawn. With a glance around the office, he saw the same expression on the faces of everyone else.
"Raymondo, you've got a face like a pigs arse; what's 'appened?"
Ray chewed on gum for a few seconds, then gulped and muttered, "we got a confession for Jeremy McKellen, Guv..."
Gene frowned. "You what?"
"Rang up an hour ago, me an' Chris went an' picked 'er up- didn't even blink." He took a drag on the cigarette in his hand, which shook visibly as he lowered it again, smoke clouding his face as he exhaled deeply and with an air of nervousness.
"Who is it?" Gene asked, though he had a sinking suspicion he already knew, and as soon as he felt Alex at his side, tense and quiet, he knew she was thinking the same thing
"It's 'is Missus, Guv," Ray said, "Amanda McKellen."
---
Mage of the Heart