This is my second attempt at Flashslash (a story written from scratch in eight minutes) – still without a prompt. This time I had the first line waiting, which didn’t seem to make that much difference in the end.
Gene watched Sam, standing tense and still. Each waited for the other to speak.
Eventually, Gene broke the silence.
Sam stepped towards him, eyes searching Gene’s face.
“It’s OK, really. You don’t have to say anything else.”
“I think I do though, don’t I? Not going to just go away by itself, is it? Not as if you’re just going to forget what I said.”
Sam moved closer, one finger hovering delicately near Gene’s mouth.
“You’re right”, he murmured. “I am never going to forget what you said. Wouldn’t want to.”
Gene sagged against the wall in relief laced with confusion. “What, you mean ...?”
“Of course I mean...” laughed Sam. “How many times in my life do you really think anyone’s said that to me?”
“With looks like yours, Sam – hundreds, I should think.” Gene shuffled his feet slightly. “And all of them better looking than me.” He looked up defiantly. “Look, I know I talk big about – well, women and that, but I don’t ... I never really... I only got married because in them days you had to. Still expected now, mind. Don’t know how you ever got to DI without a good wife to iron your clothes and invite your new DCI round to dinner.”
Sam smiled. ”Autres temps, autres mœurs, Gene.”
“Oh, now you’re just showing off. What the hell does that mean, froggy talk? Talk English, can’t you?”
“It just means – well, I suppose it means that we make our own rules, Gene. We do what we want, and as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else, that’s fine.”
He put his hands tentatively on Gene’s shoulders. “Will it, Gene?” he asked quietly. “Will it hurt anyone else, us being together?”
Gene looked at him, tensely waiting, the feel of Sam’s fingers gripping his shoulders belying the softness of the words.
“It’ll hurt me more if we’re not.”