![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
daily writing (Life on Mars)
583 more words from later in the sap o'doom fic.
This fic is rated TOFU CASSEROLE. Also on AO3.
It was inevitable, maybe, that Gene would come calling. Sam saw the Cortina driving up the lane and caught the football the boy had kicked toward him instead of heading it back. The boy Sam cried foul, and Sam said, "Sorry--we're going to have to stop a minute. I need to talk to this gentleman."
"Are you going to arrest him?" the boy Sam asked hopefully.
"Probably not," said Sam, grinning. "He's my boss."
Gene parked the car and got out. He dropped a cigarette on the pavement in front of Sam and put it out with his boot. "When Chris said you were 'off to Annie's for playtime,'" said Gene, "I figured he meant a bit of afternoon delight."
Sam said quietly, "If you could refrain from making remarks like that in front the boy, I'd appreciate it." He held the football to his stomach with both arms, almost a shield.
Gene snorted. "I realized something was amiss," Gene went on, "when I saw WPC Cartwright at the station. Nonetheless, I was not expecting to find you babysitting."
"Is there a problem with that?" Sam asked. "It's only on my lunch hour."
"You cannot take your lunch hour," Gene said, "at four in the afternoon. Especially when I have a case I want my DI's input on, which I do."
"If it's age-appropriate, we can come along now," Sam said. "If it's not, my lunch is up in twenty minutes. Your call."
Gene stared at him. "Is he Cartwright's brat?" he asked.
"I really wish--" Sam started.
"Is he yours?" Gene interrupted.
Sam rolled his eyes. "Yes, Guv, in the seven months I've been here, Annie managed to both conceive and give birth to my offspring, who is now old enough to kick a football around."
"I'm not seven months old," said the boy Sam. "I'm nearly five."
Gene looked down at the boy Sam as if he hadn't quite been expecting him to speak. "Years, I assume," he said.
"Yeah, of course years," said the boy Sam. "You're pretty stupid to be Sam's boss, aren't you."
"One of my many failings," Gene said. "Another being that I'm terribly nosy. Comes with being a detective and all. So perhaps you'll oblige me, sonny. This your Dad?"
"My Dad's gone," the boy Sam said. "My mum and me live with Annie now instead."
"Huh," Gene said. "Didn't know WPC Cartwright had opened up a home for widows and orphans. Still," he said to Sam, "you mind explaining to me where you fit into this?"
"He gets out of school at three," Sam said. "His mum doesn't get off work until five. Annie comes down to get him from school on her lunch, then I come and take over until his mum comes home."
"Late lunches all around, then," said Gene.
"I work enough evenings, nights, and early, early mornings to make up for it, don't I," Sam said.
"If I'm gonna come wake you up at three o'clock for a case, why shouldn't I interrupt playtime?" Gene asked. "Duty calls, DI Tyler."
"Is it something he can see?" Sam asked stubbornly.
"It's a murder," Gene snapped.
"Is it very bloody?" the boy Sam asked hopefully. Sam looked down at him in shock--he didn't remember having that kind of an imagination when he was young.
"Christ on the cross," Gene muttered. He stomped around the car and reached in through the window for the radio. He called in and said, "Phyllis?" Sam listened as Phyllis acknowledged. "Tell Chris we'll be along in twenty minutes or so."
"Well," said Sam. "Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?"
This fic is rated TOFU CASSEROLE. Also on AO3.
It was inevitable, maybe, that Gene would come calling. Sam saw the Cortina driving up the lane and caught the football the boy had kicked toward him instead of heading it back. The boy Sam cried foul, and Sam said, "Sorry--we're going to have to stop a minute. I need to talk to this gentleman."
"Are you going to arrest him?" the boy Sam asked hopefully.
"Probably not," said Sam, grinning. "He's my boss."
Gene parked the car and got out. He dropped a cigarette on the pavement in front of Sam and put it out with his boot. "When Chris said you were 'off to Annie's for playtime,'" said Gene, "I figured he meant a bit of afternoon delight."
Sam said quietly, "If you could refrain from making remarks like that in front the boy, I'd appreciate it." He held the football to his stomach with both arms, almost a shield.
Gene snorted. "I realized something was amiss," Gene went on, "when I saw WPC Cartwright at the station. Nonetheless, I was not expecting to find you babysitting."
"Is there a problem with that?" Sam asked. "It's only on my lunch hour."
"You cannot take your lunch hour," Gene said, "at four in the afternoon. Especially when I have a case I want my DI's input on, which I do."
"If it's age-appropriate, we can come along now," Sam said. "If it's not, my lunch is up in twenty minutes. Your call."
Gene stared at him. "Is he Cartwright's brat?" he asked.
"I really wish--" Sam started.
"Is he yours?" Gene interrupted.
Sam rolled his eyes. "Yes, Guv, in the seven months I've been here, Annie managed to both conceive and give birth to my offspring, who is now old enough to kick a football around."
"I'm not seven months old," said the boy Sam. "I'm nearly five."
Gene looked down at the boy Sam as if he hadn't quite been expecting him to speak. "Years, I assume," he said.
"Yeah, of course years," said the boy Sam. "You're pretty stupid to be Sam's boss, aren't you."
"One of my many failings," Gene said. "Another being that I'm terribly nosy. Comes with being a detective and all. So perhaps you'll oblige me, sonny. This your Dad?"
"My Dad's gone," the boy Sam said. "My mum and me live with Annie now instead."
"Huh," Gene said. "Didn't know WPC Cartwright had opened up a home for widows and orphans. Still," he said to Sam, "you mind explaining to me where you fit into this?"
"He gets out of school at three," Sam said. "His mum doesn't get off work until five. Annie comes down to get him from school on her lunch, then I come and take over until his mum comes home."
"Late lunches all around, then," said Gene.
"I work enough evenings, nights, and early, early mornings to make up for it, don't I," Sam said.
"If I'm gonna come wake you up at three o'clock for a case, why shouldn't I interrupt playtime?" Gene asked. "Duty calls, DI Tyler."
"Is it something he can see?" Sam asked stubbornly.
"It's a murder," Gene snapped.
"Is it very bloody?" the boy Sam asked hopefully. Sam looked down at him in shock--he didn't remember having that kind of an imagination when he was young.
"Christ on the cross," Gene muttered. He stomped around the car and reached in through the window for the radio. He called in and said, "Phyllis?" Sam listened as Phyllis acknowledged. "Tell Chris we'll be along in twenty minutes or so."
"Well," said Sam. "Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?"
no subject
no subject
You are doing excellent as you are. Hee. *hugs*
no subject
no subject