Five Times Sam Goaded Gene Into Doing Something

Sam always had a way of making Gene do things he shouldn't want to do. It all started with him and all his talk of bloody procedure, of doing things by the book. Gene often thought he would like to find that book and throw it at Sam, but gradually, even though he knew it meant more paperwork and more bitching from his team (like they didn't do that enough), he implemented this whole clean cop idea of Sam's, this proper procedure. A month later his department was so clean he swore you could hear it squeak.

The second time Sam goaded Gene into doing something he shouldn't do ended with Sam smiling smugly down at Gene while Gene wheezed and doubled over, trying to catch his breath. The little bugger convinced him to get out for some exercise, more specifically, some running. He isn't quite sure how it started, all he remembered as he tried to keep up with his surprisingly fast DI was some talk about stamina and how keeping fit could be linked back to a happy and healthy sex life. Gene thought any sex was happy and hey, as a bonus who knew it could be healthy. Of course, he had to convince the missus to actually have the sex first for this stamina thing to work out, which is what he bellowed as he walked across the street to the nearest bar, winded and parched from his excursion with Sam, thinking that he remembered some bird with big tits working behind the bar there. Surely that was a sign of health and it sure as hell made Gene happy. An hour later Sam was by his side, buying the next round.

The third time Sam knocked on his door, late one night, rolled up plastic baggie in one hand and cheap plastic lighter in the other. "Guv, you got any rolling papers?" He asked, prompting Gene to want to first knock him silly and then usher him quickly and quietly into his living room. "Oi, Gladys, what're you doin' with this?" he had said, swiping the cheap lighter from Sam and fishing a shiny, brass lighter from his pocket. Twenty minutes later the two men were sitting, smoking the good stuff lit by the good lighter on the hood of Gene's beloved Cortina, having been unceremoniously shooshed out of the house by Mrs. Guv, resulting in a fit of giggles more closely associated with a couple of twelve year old boys who just stole their father's girlie mags.

The fourth time they have dinner alone together is at Sam's place. They eat together all the time is the argument that Gene gave when Sam asked him to come by for dinner that Saturday night. Sam, being utterly Sam about it, told him that eating take out Chinese amongst the rest of the department, or donuts in the car with Ray and Chris wasn't the same as eating a proper meal together, as friends sometimes did, as they did precious few times. Sam left out the part about feeling bad that Gene's wife finally up and left, leaving the poor bloke with no real kitchen skills other than perhaps being able to work a can opener. Sam asked Gene what kind of food he would like to eat, and being utterly Gene about it, he answered the kind you put in your mouth. Gene stopped at the corner store before he went over to Sam's, remembering at the last minute some nonsense his mother once told him about never showing up to dinner at someone's house empty handed. Ten minutes later he walked in with a bottle of red, a bottle of white and a huge bottle of scotch. When Sam questioned why so much, Gene told him he couldn't remember the rule he taught him about which wine to drink with which food and figured both would be good, if not they could drink the scotch till they couldn't taste anything anyway.

A few hours later - two full bottles of wine, one half of the giant bottle of scotch and a hell of a good meal later (Italian for the record) to be exact - the fifth time was working full tilt, starting up against the door of Sam's small flat and culminating on the flimsy old cot that held up surprisingly well under the weight of two grown men fucking each other into oblivion. The next morning Gene woke up sore and spent, wondering if Sam's neighbors shouldn't want to hear some more of the same later that night, because though he really shouldn't want more, he does.