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LOMFic - Wine and Candles Part 5 (of 6) - dorsetgirl
September 25th, 2008
11:13 am
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LOMFic - Wine and Candles Part 5 (of 6)

Wine and Candles (Part 5 of 6)
Author: DorsetGirl
Fandom: Life on Mars
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters or their universe. BBC/Kudos do. I’m not making any money out of this.
Rating: This part Green Cortina; part 6 Brown Cortina
Word Count: 1,258
Pairing: Sam/Gene
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Gene’s made his vows and now he wants to get down to business. But guess what, Sam wants to talk a bit more first.
Author’s Note: A long time ago - way back at the beginning of February – I posted parts 1-4 of a series called Wine and Candles, in which Gene cooked Sam dinner and promised to look after him from then on if Sam would accept him. There were calls for dessert in the comments, but Gene simply wouldn’t behave himself and get on with the action, and so things were left slightly in limbo.
However, in May I realised that my Survival series fits beautifully into this universe: I was interested by the idea that events in that series which have been described by various commenters as harrowing, horrific and heartbreaking might happen to a pair who start their life together in circumstances which have been described at best as sweet. It happens in real life, of course, but maybe not so much in fic. Parts 5 and 6 of Wine and Candles were actually written at that time: I felt I needed to complete the beginning of their story before posting Keep Taking the Tablets and Not Just a Cry For Help, but I didn’t want to take the time away from Survival to get them ready for posting. I’m finally doing that now because I’m having difficulty with a part of Survival that references this back-story, and I’m hoping this will get things moving again.
Finally, I have to say that Gene has fought me every inch of the way through this series. I can only apologise for the serious OOC-ness, but to be honest I rather like the way he wrote himself in this story, and it does work very well at setting up the kind of uncompromising and steadfast commitment he’s going to need to get himself and Sam through Survival.
Previously in this universe: Moving On; Wine and Candles: Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4.
As ever, it’s not necessary to read previous chapters to get what’s happening here, but it will add depth if you do.
Wine and Candles – Part 5
“I’ve been waiting too long to be coy about this now, Sam. Will you have me? I mean - to be together, just you and me, not looking at anyone else, as long as we both want to?”
He crossed his fingers behind his back and waiting for the cogs to turn. Finally, Sam spoke.
“I’ve already said ‘I will’ Gene. I meant that.”
Gene swallowed, hiding his relief. “All right then. Just wanted to make sure. Just ... well, you know.”
“No, I don’t know. What, Gene, exactly?”
Bloody Sam; at a time like this he’s got to start asking awkward questions.
“Nothing. We going to do this or what?” Gene cupped Sam’s balls lightly and leaned over him, hoping he’d take the hint and shut up.
“When you’ve clarified something for me.”
“For God’s sake, Tyler!” Gene had been – finally - about to take Sam’s cock into his mouth, but now he sat back on his heels and waited, trying not to look as frustrated as he felt.
“Oh, so it’s all right for you to stop the action to demand promises, but not the other way round, is that it?”
It was difficult to tell whether Sam was joking. Although come to think, his eyes did have that steely glint, the one you didn’t mess with unless you wanted to spend the next three days talking him round. OK then, not joking. And how he managed a steely glint in the warmest, softest toffee brown eyes Gene had ever seen was something he’d been trying to work out since the day he’d first stared helplessly into them.
“What is it, Sam? You want me to pledge my undying love before I get in your arse? Consider it done. Or offer to devote the rest of my life to you? Ditto. Or perhaps it’s my worldly goods you’re worried about? All yours. Except the three bottles of malt in the cupboard under the stairs and the one in the bathroom cabinet, obviously. Now can we get on with this?”
* * *
Sam hesitated, still unsure. He didn’t even know what he was unsure about. Phrases like “too good to be true”, “too much, too soon”, and “be careful what you wish for” paraded, sniggering, through his mind. And then, more soothingly, memories of a long line of Friday nights: Gene comfortably close as they killed another bottle; Gene fetching him a glass of water for the morning; Gene covering him up, stumbling out into the night as Sam started to drift. Oh.
But against that, never a word of suggestion; never a hand out of place. It didn’t add up.
Then finally, visions of Gene staggering in as Sam got out the Scotch as usual: mumbling, looking anywhere but at Sam as he handed over a pair of chipped glass tumblers, cheap, dusty and uncared-for. They were me Mam’s...Stu... The brief flare of anxiety and something else as Gene had watched him wash and polish the glasses - “Not drinking out of filthy glasses, Gene, even for you” - was in evidence now as Gene waited for him to speak. Oh. Right.
“It’s just...” he began slowly. “Why me? In some ways you hardly know me. I’ve been here, what, five months? We’ve argued, disagreed, fought more often than I care to remember. We’ve shared a few bottles on a Friday night; you’ve told me far more about yourself than I’ll ever be able to tell you about me. So just - why me? And why now?”
Gene studied him, eyes narrowed. “You telling me you don’t want this, Sam? Trying to back out of your promises? When you said just now, ‘I will’, what was that? Was there a bit in the middle I didn’t catch, that went ‘except for when I don’t feel like it?’ or ‘except if I fancy being a bloody pain-in-the-arse twat who’s all talk and no bloody DELIVERY’ ?
Gene was shouting now, pulling away from Sam, face flushed and angry. Sam stared in shock as Gene started to get off the bed, doing up his trousers as he went.
“No! No, I... Gene, I do want you. This. I just ... well, it’s... it’s just a bit sudden, that’s all.”
Jesus, please tell me I didn’t just say that.  
Sam sat up, suddenly and forcefully, grabbing Gene’s arm as he turned away. “Look, Gene. Straight question. You could have anyone you wanted, male or female. You must know that. So I need to know, seriously – why me? ’Cos this is a big commitment for me too.”
Even in these pre-AIDS days, he wasn’t going to give it out for just anyone. He needed to know this was It. The One. For better or for worse.
“And I don’t want just ... I need to know you’re not going to just dump me next week when it turns out ... when you find out I’m just the same at home as I am at work.”
Gene just looked at him. Sam bit his lip; Gene surely knew by now that the way he was at work was just the way he was, full stop. Even if he didn’t, there was no point pretending. Going along with Gene on the vows and promises was pointless if they were going to argue or split up the first time Gene tripped over Sam’s obsession for order at some unorderly moment.
He took a deep breath. “If anything, I’m worse at home. I squeeze the toothpaste neatly from the end. I always put the lid back on. I keep my spices in alphabetical order. Well, you know that. And I organise my socks by colour. Always have, always will. I can’t help it.”
Gene smiled involuntarily and patted his hand. “I never would have guessed, Gladys.”
Sam snorted, but continued, determined to get things straight from the start. “And whatever you might think, I don’t do the girly bit, OK, so I hope you’re not expecting me to be some sort of ... fluffy pink bunny in the bedroom. Not going to happen.” He looked at Gene almost angrily. “I need to know what you think you’re getting.”
“Bloody cold for starters.” Gene retorted. “Thought I’d be in there by now, ploughing your arse like a man possessed.” He sighed and sat next to Sam. “Pass me the bloody blanket then, if we’re going to talk ourselves to death first.”
He arranged the blanket around his shoulders and leaned back against the wall, long legs arranged with unconscious elegance.
“OK. Well, I don’t know about anyone I wanted. A fair proportion, yes, I’ll grant you.” He smiled blandly and quickly became serious again. ”But what I do want– what I hope I’m getting, if I don’t die of blue balls while I’m waiting for him to make his mind up – is an argumentative bastard who doesn’t obey me orders and doesn’t turn into a fluffy bloody bunny in the bedroom. ’Cos I’ve had fluffy bunnies, Sam, and believe me, it wears thin.”
Sam felt himself relax. Gene’s talk of commitment and promises had seemed unnervingly out of character, but this was more like the Gene he was used to.
 “I don’t want soft and simpering, Sam. I want honest. I want prickly. I want fun, and ... and mystery, and depth. I want you. Intelligence and grit and bloody-mindedness. OK?”
Sam laughed and leaned over to plant a kiss on Gene’s mouth. ”You want intelligence and grit and bloody-mindedness? I can do that.”
“Right. That’s settled then. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve waited a long time for this, and I’m not going to wait another minute.” Gene unbuckled his belt and pushed his trousers down as he turned to Sam, cock standing proudly to attention. “I’m going to plough your arse till you scream, so if you ever want to wear those trousers again, I suggest you take them off.”
Final part posting in a few days...

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