Think Before You Speak to the Missus by Beloved. White Cortina
Title: Think Before You Speak to the Missus Author: Beloved Rating: White Cortina Summary: The Missus makes Gene sleep on the couch after a comment about her cooking. How can Sam be to blame for that? Genre: Gen – possible pre-slash if you squint Author’s Note: This is not set at any specific point, except its post 2.08. In my LoM future, Sam FINALLY got out of that ramshackle flat and into a small, clean, 2-bedroomed place.
Sam sauntered up the stairs to CID with a small smile on his face; he may be late, but he had had a productive morning thus far.
As he reached the top of the stairs, he could hear the barely muffled sound of Gene bawling someone out. Making his way down the corridor, he was met by Chris and Ray. Nodding at both gentlemen, he just about got a nod and a grunt in reply from Ray, and a smile from Chris.
“Mornin’ Boss! Word of warning, Guv’s been stompin’ round like a bear with a sore head all mornin’.”
Sam sighed – this may not be a new occurrence, but there was always a reason for it; although Sam seemed to get the brunt of Gene’s anger in spite of the fact that it was not always to do with him!
“Why, what’s up with him today?”
Chris looked at Ray to answer Sam’s question. When he realised that both of the men were waiting for an explanation, Ray glared at Chris and informed them; “He’s had a fall-out with the Missus. She made him kip on the couch last night.”
Sam pulled a face. Gene’s marital problems had nothing whatsoever to do with him, and there was no way Gene could place the blame with him, but nevertheless, it was Sam who was going to be stuck with the sharp edge of Gene’s tongue all day.
Nodding at the two men, he thanked them for the warning and braced himself, before flinging open both the doors and strolling into CID.
*****
Sam had not taken more than three steps into the room before Gene’s office door crashed into the wall.
“TYLER! What time d’ya call this?! You shoulda bin behind that desk surrounded by paperwork over an hour ago!”
Sam smirked in a manner he knew infuriated Gene as he replied; “I would have been, but I stopped on my way to work to stop an elderly lady getting mugged. Check with Phyllis, just booked the lad into the cells not five minutes ago.”
Gene pulled a face, all the more annoyed at the fact that he couldn’t tell Sam off for doing his job. “Well you might want to let you superior officer know when you’re gonna be late in future! Come on then Goody Two Shoes, get your arse in my office now!”
Shaking his head, Sam muttered as he walked towards him, “What have I done now?”
“What have you done?” Gene grabbed him by the lapels and flung him into the office, slamming the door behind him. “I had to kip on the couch last night because of you!”
Looking up from straightening his jacket, Sam enquired; “Now I know you blame me for a lot of things, but how on earth have you managed to work out you falling out with the Missus to be my fault?!”
Gene sighed, grabbing his scotch and pouring a little into two glasses before plonking himself down in his chair. Allowing Sam to perch on the edge of the desk, he passed him a glass before explaining.
“Well, you know that she’s been takin’ this fancy cookin’ class? Well, last night, she decided to cook summat she’d learnt. Spaghetti Carbonara. Well, she sat there, all proud of herself, and I’m just shovellin’ it in – ‘twas alright like. And she asks what I think, so I say; ‘S’good luv. Almost as good as Sam’s’.”
Now, as soon as Gene mentioned Sam’s signature dish, he knew that somehow he would be getting the blame, but he never thought Gene would be so daft as to say something like that to his wife!
“You didn’t!”
“I did. But so what? S’not like I was lyin’ to ‘er. It was alright, just yours is better.”
Sam could not stop the grin from forming on his face at the compliment, and the sheer happiness in his expression even drew a smile out of Gene.
“OK Guv, I guess I can see why I’m getting the blame, but really Guv, how long have you been married? You should surely know better than to say something like that!”
“Oi! Ya cheeky sod! Well, how are we gonna fix this?! I can’t sleep on that sofa again – its ‘ell on me back!”
Sam had to hide another smile at the ‘we’, and was quick to come up with a plan.
“Well, you’re welcome to stay in my spare room. It’s Friday, so it’s not like she’d expect you home at a reasonable hour anyway – if at all. And tomorrow, I’ll teach you my Carbonara recipe, and then you can go home and cook it for her. Between you doing the cooking for once, and a good grovel, she should forgive you.”
Sam looked over at Gene expectantly. Gene thought for a moment, before raising his glass to the other man with a grin; “I knew there was a reason I kept you ‘round, Sammy-boy!”
Sam raised an eyebrow at his DCI; “Nothing to do with the fact that I’m good at my job?”
“Speaking of, haven't you got a report to write? You’re the picky pain in the arse that’s always goin’ on about procedure, so git!”