AU: Oakville, Texas. The morning after.

[ikissdhimbck]

**NOTE: This is part of a plot arc that was meant to occur in Milliways over the Spring/Summer of 2011 in Bar Time. It has since become an AU, and should be treated as a standalone plot not associated with any game, and not fitting into Kate's continuity.**



Kate doesn't sleep well. Once she gets to her room and undresses (for the last time tonight), slips on her chemise, and slides into bed (alone), she finds she can't stop playing their conversation out again and again. As she stares at the ceiling in her darkened room, driving their words so deep into her memory it'll be a while yet before she can erase them, she finds herself growing more and more agitated.

Stupid man.

Stupid drink.


Stupid her.


She wakes up later than she normally does. The light outside her window is already starting to yellow, hinting closer to seven o'clock than to six. She rises and gets dressed, mind still cranking, making sure she looks a smidgen more 'respectable' than when they first rode in. More womanly. More businesslike. And by the time she's finished she has a rehearsed speech all set in her mind. This constant arguing is pointless, and she won't do it anymore.

She steps out into the hall, catching sight of her wearied boots on worn and shabby carpeting. The rug was likely quite fine in its day, but like the knotted old wood it's trying to hide it's grown bedraggled and thin. She contemplates knocking on his door and quickly dismisses the idea. Her day doesn't hinge on whether or not Gene Hunt is happy with her.

She makes her way down to the dining room where the senorita from yesterday is cleaning shot glasses and tumblers, asks for a hot breakfast, and sits herself down at a table.

"Has my associate been down this mornin'?"

"No, ma'am. Only you."

Kate nods.

And waits.



By noon Gene still hasn't come down. She wonders if this is ordinary for him, but she's run out of reasons to linger in the bar without looking like a fool. She leaves a few coins for the barmaid, and debates whether she should go on and head out and just hope he gets the idea whenever he comes to. No. Things are mendable, ignorable, and shouldn't be left to fester simply because of their pride.

She scales the stairs and stops in front of his door, takes a breath, and resists rolling her eyes. She reminds herself that this is the last time this is going to happen. By god, this is the last time. And she knocks.

There's no answer.


She knocks again.


Perhaps he slipped out early, and no one noticed he left? She figures he wouldn't bother to tell her, especially if he's upset about last night. He could've just decided to take a look around town, or — 

Her heart sinks.


Or he could've gone back to The Bar.


She opens his door — it's unlocked, just like he said it would be — and takes a look inside.

"Gene?"

He's definitely not here. Perhaps it should be comforting to note that his bags are still in the room. It doesn't look like he bothered to pack or clean up. But he's gone, along with his coat, which leaves only two equally unhappy possibilities. He's gone back to Milliways, left, had enough of her and this; or he's out, and likely been out all night. All night with...


She rubs at her forehead. Sighs heavily. Sits on the edge of his bed and just... just sits.

Her rehearsed apology and the amendment she planned to offer suddenly feel utterly childish. She feels utterly childish, for so whole-heartedly believing she was going to set things right. For actually believing, after so many failed attempts to overcome her doubts, her worries, this  —  this curse she can't ignore despite how fervently people tell her to, that she could get it together long enough not to mess another good thing up.

She considers feeling angry. For the briefest second, she does. But then all she feels is disappointed. It was never going to be part of the deal to let him in enough for her to get hurt. She wasn't going to care when everything went to hell. And eventually it would, she knew that, and that was okay. It is okay. This all blew up in their faces, just like it was always going to. And she's still okay with it. It's fine.


Just don't mind the gnawing ache in the pit of her stomach.

Comments

[the_gene_genie]

He rolls his eyes at the blatant ego-stroking (as he sees it) and leaves it alone. Her question has caught his interest.

'Because I wan' t'know if you'll do it.'

She wasn't expecting anything other than honesty, right?

'...an' also 'cos it's nice bein' the bloke who introduced you to it.'

There's a pause, wherein the Smug makes another appearance.

'No need t'ask if you liked that bit.'

[ikissdhimbck]

Her lips flatten into an unamused line, but she can't hide the fire that's crept into her cheeks.

Yeah, she did.

"If I'll...?"

Oh.

Her eyes go a touch wide.

"...With my mouth?"

She ... she doesn't ... she's never ... She tips her chin down, mulling the thought over.



"I dunno."

It doesn't seem right to say 'no' after she's experienced it for herself. Especially given the fact that she wouldn't mind experiencing it again. But it's not a thought that particularly appeals to her.

"I suppose ... I reckon ... When the time comes, perhaps."

[the_gene_genie]

'Don' knock it 'til you've tried it, is what I always say,' he says, loftily.

It's a big lie. There are many, many things that Gene knocks that he's never tried, and has no intention of trying. So he could let her off the hook and say you don't have to. Because she doesn't, after all. But he'd like her to.

Anyway, she might find she likes it better than she thinks. That's what happens to him every time he's persuaded to go down on his missus, though thankfully she doesn't ask often. Birthdays, mainly.

'An' if you ever wanted to know what'll reduce a man to mush in under ten minutes, you'll get to learn.'

Bonus?

[ikissdhimbck]

She twists a lock of his hair around her finger, light and gentle movements, absent as she considers the notion. She isn't completely convinced, but that's not what she says. What she says, with a slow-spreading smile that oozes wickedness, is:

"I've never had any problems reducin' a man t'mush before."

Maybe he can take that as a promise. Should he like.

[the_gene_genie]

'Yeah, I can believe it.'

Given that she just did. It took a bit longer than ten minutes, but only because they were going slow.




'...you sure you've only been with one bloke before?'

Wickedness like that generally comes from birds with a bit more experience, in his world. Not that he's complaining. He'll have to buy Doc a drink, on the sly, like.

[ikissdhimbck]

The amusement drains from her expression, followed by the playfulness, and lastly the smile.


"S'pose that depends on how y'look at it."

She pulls her hand from his hair, pillowing her arm under her head again.

[the_gene_genie]

....right. OK. Not the reaction he was looking for. But then, he really didn't think about what the reaction might be at all.


'How'd you mean?'

He doesn't take his hands off her. Quite likes touching her, as it goes.

'The 'two differen' versions of the same bloke' thing?'

Milliways. Nightmare.

[ikissdhimbck]

"That's the thing."

She settles in close to his side, hand going still at his waist. Her eyes slip shut.

"There are differin' opinions."

[the_gene_genie]

He's hesitant to ask, because he doesn't like the idea of talking about anothoer bloke when he's in his bed. At the same time, it's impossible not to be curious.

'Yours an' his? Well, that's always the way, isn' it?'

[ikissdhimbck]

Figures. Can't get the man to talk when she wants him to, but when she doesn't he won't shut his mouth.

"Can we not talk 'bout this right now?"

She manages to keep it a request, rather than a demand. Still, she runs her thumb across his last rib and adds:

"I'm in bed with you. I don't wanna share the covers with anyone else."

[the_gene_genie]

It's always easier to talk about someone else. But this is an easy enough request to give in to, so he does.

'Yeah, OK.'

There's something missing from this party, and he's just realised what it is.

'You wan' a drink?'

[ikissdhimbck]

There's a slight frown on her face, now that he has her distracted with serious thought. Her self-confidence plummets whenever she thinks of Doc, for more than one reason. She expects to struggle putting him from her mind, but she's not sure what to think of how readily he came to Gene's. 'Unsettled' seems like an understatement.



"Aren't you tired?"

[the_gene_genie]

He gives this question some thought.

'Bit.'

Beat.

'Scotch'll be a nice send-off. Or wake me up, one of the two.'

Probably the former.

'Why, are you?'

[ikissdhimbck]

She beetles her brow.

"A lil'."

She just expected he would be out like a light the instant they finished.

"However are y'gonna bide your time if it wakes you up?"

[the_gene_genie]

He shoots her a suggestive look.

...there is not an ounce of sincerity behind it. In that regard, he's done for the night.

And then gets up and pours a generous measure into a glass. She can share a bit, if she likes.

'Go t'sleep, luv. I'll not bother you for more tonight.'

Might be a different story in the morning, but he'll wait and see.

[ikissdhimbck]

She takes the look in stride. Really, she should have seen it coming.

She reaches for the sheets when he gets up, keeping her eyes from straying in his direction as she minds her own self. She smells like sex, and the sheets are no different, but she'll manage until morning.

"Wouldn't call it a bother."

She's not sure what she would call it.

This.

But she'll think about that later.


She curls around his pillow. If he climbs back in bed with that scotch she might have a sip or two, but she's not about to get up out of this bed for anything just yet.

[the_gene_genie]

'Really?'

His ears perk up instantly. And of course he gets back into bed with it. Scotch and a fag; best post-coital break ever.

'Well, in that case, I probably will.'

He's been accused a time or two (and when he's on his game), of having the libido of a twenty year old. He just thinks of it as taking it where he can get it, and pays it no more mind.

'Here, you want some?'

Scotch, that is. He's offering her the glass.

[ikissdhimbck]

The libido, and the enthusiasm of a twenty year old. It's strangely endearing  —  one of his most endearing features, in fact. Without that childlike vigor and vim he wouldn't even be the same man to her eyes.

She inspects the glass and the fag, and then slips an elbow underneath her so she's half-sitting next to him. She looks at him from over the rim of the glass as she has a drink.

"You're a man of vice, Gene Hunt."

There's a touch of something like amusement on her face again. She catches his eyes through her lashes as she passes the glass back.

"Liquor, cigarettes, women. What will I discover next?"

[the_gene_genie]

'You forgot the gamblin',' he adds, congenially, and raises his eyebrows at her.

He won't be mentioning just how corrupt he really has been in the past, obviously. But he's OK with reminding her of the gambling. He's not ashamed of that one.

'But not drugs. You'll never discover that one.'

He wriggles down to his back, fag between his lips, and glass resting on his chest. This is one comfortable bed; a good fag, delicious whiskey (her expensive 'present') and an even more delicious woman. He could get used to this.

[ikissdhimbck]

"Gamblin'."

She whispers the word against his skin. How could she forget? Gene Hunt himself is one glorious risk.

She settles in with her head on his shoulder.

"No opiates? Why the line there?"

With everything else he's ready to admit, it seems like a funny place to draw a line.

[the_gene_genie]

He hangs an arm loosely around her middle. She's so small.

'Me brother took drugs.'

And he's feeling far too good just now to go any further with that. He pulls on his cigarette instead.

'Story for another time, sweet'eart.'

Or never, perhaps. Depends.

[ikissdhimbck]

"Fair enough."

He has his skeletons, and she has hers. She's curious, of course; the bits and pieces he shares about his family knits a patchwork tapestry of unhappiness and struggle. Her mind drifts to the scar she discovered on his back, and realizes dully that it hasn't been the only one she's uncovered over the past year.

Her fingers find the gold chain laying across his chest and start to play with it absently.

"Jus' as well. You're already startin' t'fit the description of an ol' range rider a mite too well."

[the_gene_genie]

'Yeah?'

He seems pleased by he prospect.

'How'd you mean? Strong, silent type?'

He's always aspired to it.

Well. 'Strong', anyway. Never seems to really manage the 'silent', but that's OK.

[ikissdhimbck]

She snickers.

"More like big an' loud."

She lifts her head to take another sip of his drink, letting the alcohol sit in her mouth a moment before swallowing it down.

"Rabble-rousin', carousin', trouble-makin', mischievous, pugilistic..."

She settles back down, murmuring the words like sweet talk in a voice as low and thick as honey.

"...guns a-blazin', pleasure-seekin', hullabaloo-causin', soured old piece of leather."

[the_gene_genie]

'...who're you callin' old?'


The rest of it - fine. Good, even.