No additional warnings for this scene.
ONE
“My city, Sam. Can’t leave.” Gene stood by and lit a new cigarette while Sam finished the job with a shovel. Axes and swords had proved effective, but not as adaptable as a well sharpened shovel, which was now standard issue for all police. Those who were left.
“Just...I don’t get it. None of this ever happened.” Sam stopped and leaned on the shovel – another unforeseen benefit – and frowned.
“It’s happening now.” Gene shrugged and motioned Leonard up. He trundled forward with the horse-drawn wagon – petrol had run out in the city weeks ago, used up by people running before the quarantine slammed down all exits. The quarantine was partially lifted now, so if a person wanted to leave, they just had to submit to testing, but those who made that choice once already did not change their minds. Like Gene, it was their city, and they were going to fight for it. The only draw back was that supplies were being airlifted in by the military, and petrol was not high on the list of necessities.
Sam helped Leonard load the now-headless zombie’s body into the wagon with the other corpses, then used his shovel to scrape up the broken remains of the head and dump it into the barrel roped to the side of the wagon. One too many reanimations taught them the hard way to just keep everything separate, once it was separated.
“That’s it, Leonard. We’re kicking off for the night. Ray, walk him to the pits.” Gene sighed, and Ray nodded grimly, his shovel held at the ready as he walked off with Leonard and the wagon. It was simply too dangerous for anyone to go out alone, even at dawn, especially to the body pits where sometimes zombies swapped out with older heads they found deep in the muck. Gene nodded at Sam, and they walked off towards the pub. Everyone lived nocturnally because sleeping at night was an invitation to have your brains eaten, and so when they got to the pub at six am, the place was just starting to come to life. Sam went out back, nodding his greetings to the plods on permanent guard duty around the pub, and rinsed off his shovel. He oiled it carefully and checked the edge, knowing it would need to be sharpened again the following evening by the police armouror. It had been a busy night.
“Would you?” Gene asked, standing at the back door holding two pints. Sam glanced over at him as he finished up, washing his hands.
“Yes.”
Gene nodded. “No choice.”
“No. Not once a person becomes infected.” Sam dried his hands on his shirt and glowered at Gene. “You would.”
“Yeah. Wouldn’t be happy about it.”
Sam laughed. “You sure? Been trying to get rid of me since I got here.”
Gene’s expression darkened. “Don’t matter. You’re here now.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Sam took the second pint, and they sipped as the sun slowly started to rise over the edge of the city. Shadows appeared and lengthened and noises drifted over them of the city getting ready to settle down for the day. Gene shifted closer to Sam.
“We’re in this together.”
“Yeah, I’m not leaving. It’s my city too.” Sam sighed, inspecting the top of his lager.
“City. People. You.” Gene leaned over, closing the space between them. Sam did not expect Gene to kiss him here, even now – too public, too dangerous, too much. But he smiled and glanced at Gene out of the corner of his eye. Everything changed when the zombie plague hit, morals and social standards being the first things the survivors forgot, and Gene took Sam to bed within two days of the quarantine. Now, normalcy was creeping back into their lives, and Sam worried about that effect on their relationship. It was true, his love for the city was not the only reason he stayed.
“I love you.” Sam whispered carefully, not looking at Gene, waiting for nothing because Gene never said it yet and probably never would.
TWO
Sam was too comfortable walking in the heels, and tried to stumble once or twice to prove to Ray that, in fact, Sam had never done this before.
“Priss like you, thought it’d come naturally.” Ray drawled, taking a long, smirking drag on his cigarette.
“Jealousy does not become you, Raymond.” Sam trilled, Samantha coming easily back to his tongue. He cursed himself mentally as Ray stared at him in shock.
“Look. You just…stand over there.” Ray waved his cigarette further down the street, further away from him.
“You’re my pimp. I have to stay close, Daddy.” Sam found himself posed with his hands on his hips, Samantha determined for revenge. Sam cursed and cursed but he knew his alter ego enough to know that she was a real bitch. Maya always enjoyed the way he verbally cut the balls off of straight guys during his drag shows, but that skill was not highly endorsed in 1973. Gene would cut his balls off.
“Just…stay back.” Ray took another long drag on his cigarette and looked around nervously.
Sam finally gave over to temptation, it was almost too easy. He swayed in closer, swinging his hips. “Now, don’t get pouty, lover boy. Everything I got, we can share…” He rolled the last word out mercilessly, and Ray paled.
“Boss?” He coughed.
“Gonna blow our cover, lover. Or you want to blow something else?” Samantha smiled guilelessly at her prey. Ray’s cigarette fell out of his mouth and he quickly bent over to pick it up, bringing himself face to face with the very short hem of Samantha’s skirt. He stumbled backwards while still crouched over, and bumped into Gene.
“Got a problem here, Carling?” Gene growled.
“Uh, uh…no, Guv, just…just…”
“He’s too nervous for this gig, Guv. Pull him.” Sam snarled, crossing his arms. “No one’s going to believe he pimps out transvestites if he’s can’t even get within five feet of me.”
Gene gave Ray the evil eye. “No one likes this job, Carling, and I don’t give a damn about the bent cross dressing pervs being targeted here, but a councilman’s nephew got his pretty arse spanked raw so here we are…”
“Transvestites. Not cross dressers.” Sam sighed, rolling his eyes. Gene switched his evil eye to him, raking him over with a ferocious gaze.
“And since I don’t need my team screwing this up any more than they already have, I’m taking over here. Carling, go back to the van.” Gene gave him a spare glance, then sauntered forward, loosening his tie and going from rumpled, exhausted copper to rumpled, sleazy pimp with a shrug of his shoulders. Ray ran off into the alley behind them. Sam gave him the once over. “Don’t want to hear it, Tyler. Now shimmy off and look pretty for the customers.”
“As long as I’m always Pretty to you, Genie.” Samantha purred and turned on her heel, strutting off to make the sidewalk into a catwalk. Gene’s jaw dropped, but he reined it in just as a long, dark sedan pulled up the check out the wares.
Later, after Ray and Annie hauled off the suspect and Samantha bore the horror of three runs in her stockings after a four block foot chase in heels, Gene drove them back to Sam’s flat. Sam kept floating back and forth between copper and drag queen, and since Gene seemed to take it in stride, he did not worry about it too much. Maybe they all though he was just that strange.
“Thanks,” Sam grumbled, getting out of the Cortina without a care as to whom he flashed with his short skirt. He heard a growl and Gene grabbed his arm.
“Don’t got to give a show, Sam.”
“You get what you pay for, you cheap bastard,” Samantha snapped, and before Sam could run for his life, Gene was out of the car and pulling him to his feet.
“Not paying for a damn thing, ‘Pretty.’ Move.” Gene shoved him towards the stairs and kept shoving until they were in Sam’s flat with the door locked behind them.
Sam turned to stare at him after throwing his woefully inadequate and far too macramé purse on the dinette table. Damn 70s women’s fashions and their leftover hippie accents.
“Walk good in those heels, Sam.”
“Not my first undercover operation.” Sam played for time, trying to figure out what Gene was up to.
Gene nodded, then stepped forward and grabbed Sam’s skirt covered hips. Sam froze, shocked, knowing that the heat between them had been constant and stagnant for a while now, and this was not the accelerant he anticipated. If all Gene was waiting for was silk stockings, a short skirt and some lipstick, Samantha was glad to oblige. These thoughts sped through Sam’s mind while Gene kissed him senseless.
“Sam?” Gene spoke hotly against his neck in between kisses.
“Sam…Samanatha…I’m…” He groped for some kind of explanation that Gene would understand.
“Shhh….” Gene walked him backwards until his backside hit the edge of the dinette table.
“But I’m…she’s…”
“It’s you, Sam. All you.” Gene pressed their mouths together again, his hips pumping lightly and undemanding against Sam’s.
“Gene, oh, um, I don’t do this, I mean I do, but…oh…” Sam gasped in surprise as Gene’s fingers trailed over his suspenders, moving gently up his thigh to…there. “Oh god, there…Gene…wait, wait, we should…talk, okay? Gene?”
“Jesus, Sam, shut up.” Gene pushed up the skirt and shoved Sam face down over the table. Falling on his elbows, Sam grinned.
THREE
“The way I see it, we’ve got a win-win situation here. No, just listen.” Sam perched on the rock while Chris stood several feet behind him, nervously banging the weapons together. The massive dragon in front of them frowned and snorted smoke through his nostrils as he inspected Sir Tyler with one large eye.
“I have a job to do here. My task is to stop you from eating the peasants.” Sam nodded graciously. “Now, we both know that killing a dragon is very difficult, but I am completely prepared for the challenge.” Behind him, Chris’ nervous clanking noises got louder. “But I’d rather not. The costs of clean up alone, here, in the middle of the city, would be astronomical. And I’m sure you don’t want to be dead.” Sam smiled, and the dragon snorted again.
“Puny human. You dare call me out to battle!?!” The dragon roared.
“Yes. It is my duty, and I am sworn to uphold the law.”
“What care I of your ridiculous laws!?!?”
“I’m sure you don’t. We can agree to disagree.” Sam held out his hands, placating.
The dragon shuffled his feet in confusion.
“So. If you stop eating peasants, I don’t have to kill you. Agreed?”
“NO! This is my territory, you do not dictate your laws to ME!”
“We can do this the hard way.” Sam looked over his shoulder at Chris and motioned him forward.
“Why do you care?”
“This is my duty, my task.”
“One such as you? One who has no home, no place, no time to call his own? Outcast!”
Sam frowned. “The king of this realm gave me this task. I will perform my duty.”
“For him?”
Sam paused, then nodded. “For him.”
“For he is your true love?”
“Errr…I wouldn’t go that far.”
The dragon snorted, a burst of flame jumping off his tongue. “You would kill a magnificent creature like me for anything less?” The dragon spread his wings and preened fearlessly, still believing he had the upper hand.
“Duty, devotion, honor…are these any less than love?”
The dragon stopped and snapped his tail. “No. But there is one greater gift than love.”
Sam frowned again, cocking his head. “What is that?”
“SACRIFICE!” The dragon roared and lunged. Sam spun and grabbed his sword, then dived for the dragon’s neck. Their horses died in the battle, and Chris’ right arm was horribly burned, but Sir Tyler’s sword was true and the dragon fell in the commons. As he walked away, citizens swarmed forward to tend to Chris and rid the city of the carcass. Sam ground to a halt when a large, imposing man stepped in front of him.
“Sir Tyler.”
“Majesty.” Sam tried to bow, but he was hurt and fell to one knee. Suddenly a strong arm wrapped around his back and lifted him up. A voice whispered heavily into his ear.
“Got the stuffing kicked out of you. Was this task your sacrifice, knight?”
Sam nodded, smiling, as he limped along, held up by the king. “Yes, majesty.”
“Good enough, then.”
“For you?”
“For my love.” King Hunt said quietly, holding tight.
FOUR
“Um. Nice.” Sam looked around the restaurant. It was very, very nice. Too nice. He glared at the host seating them, wondering what the hell Gene was up to. In Chorlton. Not that it was out of the way, it was a nice suburb, it was just not someplace Gene ever mentioned before.
“Missus hated this place. Said it reeked of chard.”
Sam could not imagine any place reeking of chard, much less a very nice Italian restaurant like this, but he took the comment the way that Gene meant it, as flattery to him. Most anytime Gene spoke of the Missus at all, it was to point out all the ways in which Sam was NOT her replacement. He could accept that. After all, he gave blow jobs, and she did not. He was here, and she was somewhere in Bolton. Winner takes all. Sam grinned.
“This a date, Guv?” Sam whispered before the waiter ran over to fill their water glasses.
Gene frowned at him but did not reply. So, the answer was yes, and Sam bounced happily in the chair and ordered a very, very nice wine to go with the very, very nice linens and very, very nice atmosphere.
“Don’t get ideas, Sam.” Gene said gruffly, inspecting the menu, which was a diversionary tactic, because all Gene ever ordered in any Italian restaurant was lasagna.
Sam did not answer and sipped the wine that appeared almost instantly. Then he choked.
“Sam?” Gene stared at him while Sam tried to deny the pain of wine dripping out his nose. Smooth, he was so smooth, and this is why he was no good on first dates. Not that this was really a date in that sense, because they had been shagging for over two months now, but it was pretty close, since it was the first time Gene had taken him anywhere other than the pub.
He forgot, he just plain forgot, what was in Chorlton. Filming studios. Granda’s filming studios. He stared as the newcomers were seated three tables away.
“Oh, oh god, ohmygodthatisLewisCollins…” Sam mumbled, wiping his nose.
“Who?”
“Bodie!” Sam hissed, jerking his head to look at their table again.
“Know him?”
“Uh, what?”
“That Bodie bloke over there. You run him in or summat?”
Sam coughed. “No.” He felt himself squeaking, but was unable to stop. Bodie. His childhood idol, his first crush, his… “No, uh, no, he’s an actor.”
Gene peered at the man unashamedly, and Collins glanced up. He was clearly taken off guard by the intense inspection Gene was giving him and quickly looked back down at his menu.
“Hmph. Looks familiar. Sure you haven’t run him in? Them actors, they do all those drugs, yeah?”
“Yeah, I mean no, no I have not run him in.” Great idea, though, Sam thought, then cringed. No, he was here on a date with Gene, even if they had to pretend otherwise, and he was NOT going to get up and go mack on Collins. No. “He’s uh, filming here. The Cuckoo Waltz.”
“That lousy sitcom. Stupid. Oh yeah, okay, he’s the playboy bloke.” Gene shrugged and dismissed the subject entirely. Sam tried to nod and pretend he did not care. He ordered, but he had no idea what, just hoped he did not ask for a burrito or something, because he was too busy casting glances at Collins. He was not a star yet, and it would be a year before The Professionals even started filming, but he was an actor who was used to being recognized locally and ignored it. Sam knew that. He respected a person’s personal space. Collins did not even own a Capri. This was ridiculous.
“Sam?”
Sam looked over and saw Gene sitting back in the chair, hands on his thighs, considering him. Sam blushed and took a huge swallow of wine. Helpless, he glanced over at Collins again. This time, Collins glanced up and caught him at it. He gave Sam a sincere, polite little smile of acknowledgement and then turned back to his date, a gorgeous red head. Female. Gorgeous. Sam sighed.
“Done yet?” Gene asked quietly, and that civil, gentle tone snapped Sam’s attention back harder than a slap to the face.
“Done?”
“With him.”
“With him? Nothing, he’s…just an actor. In a show I like.”
“I can tell.” Gene did not move for a beat, then got up.
Sam stalled. “We leaving?”
“No. I am. Leaving you money to call a cab.” Gene dropped some bills on the table just as their food showed up. Horrified, Sam stared at him. “See you on Monday.” Gene did not even try to act like he was not furious as he walked out. Running after him was not exactly cautious behavior for an in-the-closet policeman, and Sam stalled as the confused waiter put the plates down.
Seconds later Sam was on the street, leaving the money to pay for the bill, and trying to remember where Gene parked.
“Valet parking, Sam, still waiting on the car to come up.” Gene said from behind him.
“Gene…”
Gene held up a hand for quiet. The Cortina rumbled up and Gene tipped the valet, and they both got in the car. It was not a long drive back, but a lead-heavy quiet one.
“He’s just an actor, Gene.”
“Good looking. Don’t have to pretend you weren’t on the make like a bitch in heat.”
“Jesus, he was there with a date. I was just…surprised. Kind of grew up…I mean, known about him for a while. So it was just…a surprise. That’s all.” Sam was starting to feel like an idiot, like a fanboy caught drooling over internet porn, and that did not help matters. At all.
“Surprises like that get a girl up the duff.”
“I’m not a girl, he’s not a girl, and I wasn’t on the make, okay? He’s just…like a kid’s crush, you know? Nothing important. Not like…” Sam stopped, unsure of how far to push it. The shagging, the date, it was all good, but terms of endearment had been nonexistent so far.
Gene growled his disbelief at the explanation and it was quiet again. Sam knew better than to argue this, Gene was too bullheaded, but he wanted to anyway. Their first date, blown up by Bodie. Damn his rotten luck. And he did not even get an autograph out of it.
“Sam.”
“Yeah?” Sam sighed heavily, sorry that Collins ever walked into his life and even sorrier for being such a girl about it. What the hell, anyway? He was almost forty and…
“It don’t seem to make sense to love you at all, but you make it damn hard panting after the first pretty boy you see. Can’t have that, not with how hard this is already. I ain’t going to showboat to keep you.” Gene spoke quietly and firmly, his hands gripping the wheel.
“Jesus, Gene…you just admitted that you love me.”
“I did. Want to make something of it?”
“I sure as hell would.” Sam reached over and gently placed his hand high up on Gene’s thigh.
Gene grinned, and gunned the motor for home.
FIVE
“Bloody damn well better get that piece of shit thing dialed in right now, Tyler!” Gene fired off a few more rounds.
“I only got the short course! I’m trying!”
“Jackson needs to write a damn manual!”
Sam agreed as he punched the code in for Earth. Any earth, anytime, he was pretty much beyond caring at this point. Ray groaned at his feet, the arrows in his leg wavering as he tried not to move.
“Annie! Check me!” Sam backed off as Annie stormed in to look it over.
“Looks right, Sam! Why isn’t the gate turning on?”
“I don’t fucking know!” Sam howled in frustration, hitting his hand on the Stargate’s control panel. Still, nothing happened.
“What are you miserable tossers doing?” Gene yelled, crouching down behind a rock as he re-loaded.
“It’s just not turning on!”
“Did you get the coordinates right?”
“I don’t bloody know, okay?” Sam pushed Annie back to her position, and she fired off several rounds as she ran back to cover Gene. Sam hit the “clear” symbol and started over. Twice. He pulled out his notebook and checked, and groaned. He was entering everything correctly, in order, without mistakes. He looked up at the circular gate. Nothing.
“TYLER!”
“I don’t KNOW!” Sam ducked down. The avenging natives were creeping in closer and closer, their shots getting more accurate, the arrows falling just too damn close.
“Boss! Did you remember to calibrate for the solar drift time differential?” Chris yelled from where he huddled with his hands over his head.
Sam stared at him, then jumped up and hit a modified sequence. The now-familiar thrum started up and the gate’s portal whooshed open. Gene ordered Chris forward, and Sam helped him grab Ray and drag him up the ramp as Gene laid out covering fire. Annie flew up, shooting as she ran, and took hold of Ray at the last moment. The three of them tumbled through the gate.
“Gene! Go!” Sam ran back and fired around the corner of the panel base.
“I got it! You go!”
“I got us into this! You go!”
“Got us here? Or hooked up with that insane fuck O’Neill?”
“Both?”
They stopped arguing to fire off more shots.
“I really liked 1973, Sam!”
“You just miss your damn white loafers!”
“Stop arguing me, you brainless git! Run!”
“Not without you!”
Gene grumbled loudly as he ran over to the panel where Sam was and huddle up next to him. “Stupid! Just go!”
Sam looked at him and flinched as an arrow whizzed past his ear. Then he reached out, wrapped his hand around Gene’s neck, dragged him forward and kissed him. Gene responded for a brief moment, his tongue slinking out to run across Sam’s lower lip, then pulled back.
“Together.” Sam growled, keep his hand on Gene’s neck.
“Why the hell you think I’m here? Could be back at Nelson’s, sipping a pint…”
Sam stared at him in frustration, then pushed him away as another round of arrows landed. “Gene! NOW!”
They got up and ran for the gate.