Y’know, before, when Sam had considered HMV to be mundane and meaningless? He was having an exceptionally hard time retaining that opinion. HMV was about buying things, about cruising around on auto-pilot and not thinking, for a change. Or it had been. The thing is, now, whenever Sam thought about HMV, Sam thought about Gene. And thinking about Gene was never mundane, and was certainly never, ever remotely meaningless.

“Oi, Gladys.”

Sam sighed. Clearly his request for three and half minutes piece to listen to one bloody song was going to be completely ignored. Sam grinned, slipping off his headphones and out of the sound booth.

“Yes, Gene?”

“Nothin’, s’just funny when you have to untangle yourself to ‘ear what I say then get yourself wired up again,” Gene replied, leaning against the wall of the booth with a smug grin on his face.

“You’re nothing but a pain in the arse, you are,” said Sam, trying to sound angry.

“I’m sure an arse as fine as your good self’s can handle it, now,” said Gene, as he straightened up, yanking Sam’s collar straight where he’d got the headphones caught on it, “can we go to the pub yet?”

“I’m not finished yet—” Sam protested, but Gene coughed and cut across him.

“Sammy, the only reason I agreed to your bloody second date proposition was ‘cause you said, and I quote, ‘D’you want to come for a drink?’ I have yet to set eyes on any kind of alcoholic beverage. This is gettin’ very close to false advertisin’.”

“Wasn’t because of my fine arse, then?”

Gene’s lips pursed slightly.

“‘Course not. Now, because I’m a nice bloke, you can listen to your bloody song. Then we’re goin’ to the ruddy pub if I have to carry your fine arse there myself.”

Sam grinned, grabbing the headphones again. “Thanks. Obviously you realise we’d have been there already if you hadn’t have got me out of the booth in the first place…”

“Put them ‘eadphones on before I give you clip round the ear, Tyler.”

Sam put them down. “Alright, let’s go…”

Gene looked satisfied, but smirked. “You sure?”

“Never been more sure of anything in my entire life.”

“Well, if that’s ‘ow you feel, the place round the corner does a lovely pint of Ruddles with a nice Shepard’s pie…”

“I can barely contain my excitement.”

“Sounds messy.”

Sam sighed and shook his head as they left HMV and walked up the paved streets of the city centre. He peered up at the sky, an endless stretch of devastating blue without a cloud in sight, and a bright, warm sun. He lifted his face to it.

“Wasn’t just ‘cause you said we could go to the pub, y’know.”

Sam looked at Gene. “No?”

He shook his head. “No,” he replied, glancing sideways at him. “Like yeh. That’s all. Probably would’ve said ‘yeah’ if you’d asked me to come out’n watch you shoot kittens.”

Sam grinned. “We can do that next time.”

Gene looked up, sharpish. “Next time?”

“Yeah, one of my most unfortunate hobbies is actually kitten-killing.”

Gene wrinkled his nose. “Maybe I was a bit hasty.”

Sam chuckled. “They’re showin’ re-runs of old westerns down at the Obelisk cinema, what d’you think? Figured we wouldn’t actually have to watch the film that way, we could just sit in the back row and canoodle.”

“Ah, well, y’see you’ve made a tactical error there, Sammy.”

“Let me guess, you’re not that kind of bloke? No public displays of affection for you, eh?”

“I’m exactly that kind of bloke. Just not while Clint’s Eastwood’s on. It’s like heresy.”

“I see,” Sam said, barely containing a grin in an effort, Gene thought, to look wounded. “And public affection?”

Gene looked at him for a minute. “Depends ‘ow much I like the bloke.”

“Well, as the answer to that could certainly go either way, I won’t ask…”

“Spoil sport. We goin’ to see Clint, then?”

Sam looked surprised. “What… no canoodling?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Well… alright. But you’re buying the bloody popcorn. And I want a bag of hideously over-priced Minstrels if I’m not even goin’ to get felt up.”

“Fine by me. Just don’t interrupt the Sheriff.”

&

“That wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it’d be,” Sam admitted, two and a half hours later, at they emerged, blinking, into the twilight outside the cinema. He offered the half-full bag of Minstrels to Gene, who shook his head.

“Nah, I fancy something a bit more fillin’. ‘S’pose you’ll want me to buy you dinner an’ all, seein’ as you’ve already cooked?”

“Well, as you’re offerin’. As long as it’s somewhere a bit… classy.”

Gene sighed over dramatically. “‘Ere, don’t get cheeky. Otherwise it’ll be Wetherspoons for you.”

“Heaven forbid.”

They wandered back towards town along the canal, talking about Clint Eastwood’s many attributes, munching Minstrels in the bright light. Gene breathed in, deep into the bottom of his belly.

“S’all revoltingly romantic really, in’t it?”

Sam nodded, swallowing. “Yeah. I was thinking that. You’re looking lovely, by the way. Blue suits you.”

“Give over.”

Sam laughed. “Fine. S’true though,” he added, looking him briskly up and down, taking in his grey suit, blue shirt. Gene shoved him dangerously close to the water’s edge, and Sam thought maybe he shouldn’t push it. A few minutes later, though, as he turned off the canal towpath and climbed towards town, leading their way up the narrow concrete steps, he felt Gene’s eyes on his arse, and grinned.

“From this angle you’re not lookin’ too bad yourself, Tyler.”

“You’re just tryin’ to get into my knickers, Hunt.”

“Too right.”

Swinging round to cross the canal bridge, Gene fell into step with Sam.

“‘Ey, second date right?” he asked, as Sam paused half way across and leant on the rounded stone wall, gazing off down the river. Gene stood next to him, his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah?” Sam replied, twisting to see him. Gene looked like he was up to something.

“Too soon for a snog then, is it?”

Sam was caught half way between surprise and amusement.

“Yeah. Yeah I reckon it is. You haven’t even got me dinner yet.”

Gene looked at the floor, pouting slightly.

“Come on, else Gino’ll run out of carbonara,” he said, looking up and throwing an arm over Sam’s shoulders, steering him towards the other side of the bridge. Sam slipped his hands into his pockets.

“So, we’ve ‘ad my heartfelt tale of woe and misery that led me to being the brilliant copper I am today,” Gene said. “What’s your story?”

Sam shrugged. “‘Fraid mine’s not nearly as interesting.”

Gene laughed grimly. “Be glad it isn’t.”

Sam could say nothing to that, so he didn’t. Gene didn’t seem angry, but did, for a brief spell, seem lost in his own thoughts. Sam left him to them, happy to have the uncomfortable weight of his arm over his shoulders.

“Come on then, sulky bollocks. Tell the tale. Even if it is duller than a librarian at a stamp collecting convention.”

Sam smiled. “I just always wanted to be a police man. When I was a kid me dad bought me a tiny helmet and everything. ‘Course, at the time I didn’t know there was anything better than being a plod. I just wanted the shiny badge. When I was little my house was always full of women. I liked the idea of being a big manly man who could keep ‘em all safe, I think.”

“Well. One out of two in’t bad. Also explains ‘ow come you’ve taken such a strong liking to cock. Now, where's me kiss?”

Sam laughed. "No. Dinner."

“Did buy you them Minstrels though,” he said, with a small smirk.

“So what, you want a peck on the cheek then?”

“Hideously expensive Minstrels.”

Sam grinned. “Fine.”

Gene stepped up nearer to him, effectively pinning him against the bridge wall. It was peculiar, Sam thought. He could feel the great drop, the emptiness behind him, the fear of falling into the water below, but knew at the same time there wasn’t the remotest possibility of it happening. He felt like the great empty space behind him, that twinge of dizziness, was in his belly as well. Gene wasn’t doing anything.

“What are you waiting for?” Sam asked.

“What d’you think? I paid for the sweets – you’re doin’ the kissing, not me.”

Sam laughed, though he did worry momentarily that it was more of a gurgle.

“What are you waitin’ for?” Gene asked, after several long, arduous moments stood in the warm sun, carefully trying to read each other’s expressions, and Sam felt Gene’s breath on his cheek, and wondered what he was waiting for.

Sam shifted slightly, realising with the smallest, most infinitesimal amount of irritation that he had to tiptoe ever so slightly to reach Gene’s lips, irritation that miraculously disappeared when he pressed his mouth to Gene’s, and felt Gene pressing back softly. It was a moment that stretched stupidly out, feeling like an age while you were within it, and millisecond when it ended, as Sam slid back down the wall.

Gene looked a bit pink.

“There? Wasn’t so hard, was it Gladys?”

Sam tried to look smug, because he certainly felt it, but feared he might’ve just looked a bit dopey.

“Easy peasy.”

Gene laughed, and swung his arm around Sam’s shoulders, steering them off towards town again. Sam put his hands in his pockets and licked his lips.

“Come on, else Gino’ll run out of carbonara.”

A short few minutes later, a tiny window of flickering light and sound appeared around the corner, and Gene pushed Sam ahead of him. Sam tried not to think about his hand lingering on his arse, but it was difficult to miss.

“‘Don Gino’s’?” Sam read, from the sign over the restaurant window.

“Yeah. Nice place, good food. Wine’s not bad neither. Very effective if you want to get people squiffy and seduce ‘em.”

“Was that what you were planning then?”

Gene shrugged and Sam sat down opposite him and leant on the table.

“You know I probably wouldn’t mind,” Sam said softly, glancing swiftly upwards.

“Hmm,” Gene chuckled. “Thing is, I’m an old-fashioned kind of bloke.”

“What, like, courtin’ and stuff?”

Gene nodded, and slowly, Sam matched to with a grin of his own.

“In that case, you better get the good wine, none of the house plonk crap.”

&