'Scotch, Gene?'

Detective Superintendent Harry Woolf offers him the glass and of course Gene accepts. This is their ritual. Once a month in Harry Woolf's office at the station, sharing a bottle of scotch and talking about the old days when Gene had been DI to Harry's DCI; blags they had stopped, criminals and gangsters they had known. Good times.

'How's that new DI of yours getting on Gene? Is he settling in alright?'

Gene took a sip of scotch while he considered his answer. Sam had been a part of his team for two months now and he was certainly making his presence felt. Storming in that first morning acting like king of the jungle; Gene had had to put him in his place. He was the sheriff and Sam was his deputy.

Since then Sam had seemed to settle down, he'd made a lot of changes it was true. He was forcing them all to be clear and transparent. Bringing Warren down had been the first step, Gene had been proud of him for sticking to his principals, for succeeding where he, himself had failed.

The methods that Sam was introducing had been unpopular at first but Gene could sense the way things were moving. Sam's way was the way of the future. Even Ray had admitted that it was easier to tape record interviews rather than have someone there trying to write it all down. Tyler certainly had vision.

'The official line is that he's a pain in the arse. He's got a problem with following orders and he keeps banging on about proper procedure all the time.'

Harry gave a small smile.

'And the unofficial line, Gene?'

'The unofficial line is that he's good, Harry. He's really good. He's got a lot of fresh ideas. He won't stand for incompetence. He's forcing us all to change; to be better coppers.'

'Sounds like another DI I used to know,' Harry replied.

Gene chuckled in response. He was picturing Tyler's face if ever he knew that Harry Woolf thought he was similar to Gene in any way.

He neglected to mention to Harry that Sam was also a few pints short of a barrel. He'd seen him talking to himself and staring off into space; saying he knew things that were going to happen in the future. Then there was the incident on the roof.

Cartwright had told him all about it of course. Stupid pillock was seriously going to jump. Gene had sworn her to silence of course. He couldn't have the station gossiping about Sam, saying he was unhinged, suicidal. It would undermine the authority of his DI and Sam was a damn good copper. He was an asset to the station, to the team. So he'd told Cartwright he would deal with it himself and she was to forget she'd seen anything.

When Gene was finished at the station he headed to the Railway Arms for a quick pint with the team before heading home to the wife.

Nelson was behind the bar; Chris and Ray were playing darts with a couple of the other Detectives and Sam... Sam was sitting in his usual seat at the corner table staring into space.

'Oi Gladys,' Gene shouted and Sam was startled from his reverie.

'Yes, Guv?'

'When you're quite done daydreaming get the drinks in. It's your round.'

Sam rolled his eyes, he bit his tongue to stop himself mentioning to Gene that he had in fact brought the last four rounds when the two of them had shared a drink together. It was pointless bringing it up and he wasn't really in the mood for an argument with Gene. He got up and went to the bar.

Gene settled himself into the chair at Sam's table and took a moment to watch Sam while he stood waiting for Nelson to serve him.

That was something else that he'd neglected to mention to Harry Woolf, the fact that Sam Tyler was increasingly occupying his thoughts. He kept finding himself watching Sam, just watching him working at his desk when he was doing paperwork or when he was talking to Chris about some new technique he wanted him to use or when he was having a go at Ray.

Sam was making Gene feel things that he'd thought were locked away forever. He hadn't had feelings for another man since he'd met Sylvia and he'd thought, hoped that they were gone forever. That somehow she'd cured him.

Sam Tyler was proving to be his undoing. The spark of attraction that Gene had felt that first day when he'd thrown Tyler up against the filing cabinets hadn't gone away and it was growing every day.

Gene knew this was dangerous territory. He was married for God's sake.

Tasting forbidden fruit with Rent Boys and strangers in bars on Canal Street once in a while when single during his twenties was one thing but he was in his forties now and he was married and the object of his desire wasn't some stranger he could have an anonymous fumble in a dark alleyway with. He was Sam's DCI, his superior officer and for all the jokes about Sam being girly, effeminate and a pouf Gene had no real proof that Sam was that way inclined.

And he was a married man. Married to a good woman and he'd taken his wedding vows seriously. Gene Hunt was not a cheater despite what others might have thought. When he'd promised to be faithful to Sylvia he'd meant it. They'd been together for fifteen years and he wasn't about to throw that away just for a quickie with his DI, even if his DI was stunningly attractive.

No. It would be wholly inappropriate to pursue this attraction. Gene couldn't take the risk. He would have to be content just to watch Sam from afar.

Maybe he should try to distance himself from him a bit, let him partner Chris. It would be good for Chris's – what was the poncy term Sam used – career development that was it. Yes, it would be good for Chris's career development to be paired up with a more experienced officer like Sam.

Yes, that was the way to get Tyler out of his system, distance himself and then the attraction would just wither and die.

Then he saw Sam smile at him as he walked back towards their table carrying two pints of bitter and Gene felt his heart leap.

That's when he knew he was screwed.

Bisexuality was considered the norm in 2006 and Sam Tyler had embraced this to the full.

He had first realised that he was attracted to men at the age of 7 when he discovered a picture of Mark Bolan on the cover of one his mother's LP's. He'd told his mother that 'that man was very pretty.' She'd smiled indulgently at him.

The attraction had developed through his teenage years when he had been captivated by David Bowie and Boy George.

He had actively embraced this aspect of his sexuality, when he was 15 he'd lost his virginity to his best friend John, on the sofa in his Auntie Heather's house. She'd been on holiday and Sam had the key so he could feed her cat. That had been a very enjoyable week for all concerned.

He'd had girlfriends too but it just didn't feel the same as being with a man and they never lasted longer than a couple of months. His relationship with Maya had been the longest he'd ever been with a woman, two years. For the first six months things had been fantastic and Sam had wanted it to work, he really did.

So why hadn't he been able to stay away from Canal Street?

Sam had found himself going there more and more after work, picking up random guys, having one night stands. He'd known it was risky. He was a DCI, if the press had gotten wind of what he was up to his career could have been ruined, but Sam hadn't been able to help himself.

He'd lied to Maya about where he was going and what he was doing and he hadn't known why. Then, three months before his accident, Sam had realised what was going on; why he couldn't make it work with Maya. He didn't love her like a boyfriend was supposed to, he loved her like a friend and he wasn't bisexual. He was gay.

Sam's coming out had gone better than expected. Maya had cried of course, she'd cried a lot and she didn't believe him when he said there was no one else. She'd screamed and shouted and given him the slap that Sam knew he deserved.

She'd kicked him out that same night and he'd turned up on his mother's doorstep with a tear stained face and black bag full of clothes. Of course he owed her an explanation.

His mother had taken it surprisingly well. Sam had expected tears but there were none. He'd expected her to blame it on his Dad leaving him – his desire for a strong male presence - but she didn't. She told him she'd always suspected and she would always love him no matter what. He was her beautiful boy and she would always support him.

Things had been difficult at work, Maya was his DI and Sam had to work closely with her on a daily basis. He thought that the best way was to just be professional. They didn't talk about anything except work but there was an awkwardness developing between them that was affecting the team.

Sam's personal life on the other hand couldn't have been better. Now that he'd finally admitted to himself that he was gay, he'd felt freer than he had in a long time. For the first time in a long time, Sam had felt happy.

That all changed when he had his accident. He went from being the happiest he'd ever been to the most miserable in the fraction of a second it took for that car to hit him on that slip road.

Homosexuality was not considered the norm in 1973. What was considered the norm was for Gay men to be called perverts, to have to hide away for fear of persecution, blackmail and ruined reputations. It was the norm for a man to be called a Nancy; a fairy; a pouf; a bender if he exhibited the slightest sign of being "effeminate".

Sam learned pretty quickly after his arrival that if he wanted to survive in 1973 there was no way he could be open about his sexuality. The men he was working with had grown up during the 1950's when public information films had warned of the dangers of 'homosexuals on the prowl.' How could he possibly come out to them?

The banter at the station was good natured, they called him a pouf and a Jessie but everyone else got called that too – even Ray. Nobody really suspected he was gay and Sam went to great lengths to make sure that it stayed that way

He flirted with Annie because it was expected. She was an attractive woman and if they thought he wanted her there would be no real suspicion cast upon him. But it was getting harder and harder to hide his feelings for the one he really wanted.

Sam had begun to desire Gene Hunt that first day in 1973 when he'd found himself being thrown up against the filing cabinets in Gene's office. He'd felt the spark of attraction and for a moment he thought he'd seen the same heat reflected in Gene's eyes but it didn't take long for Sam to realise he must have been mistaken.

Gene Hunt was happily married and resolutely straight. He'd made that clear when he'd fawned over the hookers in Warren's club that night. Sam had found it hard to control his jealousy. That was the night he'd realised he wanted to be with Gene, really be with him. Not just for a one night stand but a real relationship.

He wanted to be the one on his arm when they went out, the one he came home to at night. But that was just a childish dream. Happily married men did not leave their wives and run off with their male colleagues and no amount of wishing would make it so.

Sam knew he would have to be content to be Gene's friend – were they friends? Sam sincerely hoped so – and eventually this attraction would wither and die anyway wouldn't it?

Then he saw Gene smile at him as he set his pint glass on the table in front of him and Sam felt his heart leap. Oh he was screwed. He was so screwed.

'Thanks, Sam.' Gene said acknowledging the drink he'd just been bought.

'No problem, Guv. Your round next time though eh?'

Gene scoffed.

'My round, Tyler? No, you must be mistaken. Its Skelton's round next. You hear that Chris?' he called over his shoulder in the direction of the dart board where the match was still going on.

'Yes Guv,' Chris replied.

Gene turned back to Sam with a smug expression and he leaned forward conspiratorially.

'I'll let you into a secret Tyler. When you become a DCI you never have to buy the drinks. It's always somebody else's round. Then, on special occasions, like the Christmas party, you splash out a bit, get four or five rounds in all at once and everybody thinks "what a generous bloke DCI Hunt is". Stood me in good stead that has Tyler, don't you forget it.'

Sam rolled his eyes.

'There's a name for that,' he told Gene. 'It's called being a tight bastard.'

Gene laughed at that and Sam was struck by how gorgeous he looked. God what was he doing?

'He's married, he's straight, he's married, he's straight'

Sam kept repeating the words like a mantra as thought that would somehow cause his feelings to disappear.

He looked into Gene's eyes and found himself being regarded with a peculiar expression.

'Was he looking at my mouth?' Sam thought but then shook himself mentally. 'Don't be ridiculous Tyler. This really is wishful thinking.'

'Superintendent Woolf was asking after you tonight.' Gene said softly, his voice was almost a whisper.

'Really?' Sam replied.

'Yeah, he wanted to know how you were settling in.'

'And what did you tell him?'

'I told him the truth, that you're a pain in the arse who needs to be slapped into submission.' There was a hint of a smile behind Gene's words.

'And would you be the one doing the slapping?' Jesus Christ what's wrong with you Tyler?

'Naturally,' Gene replied. 'I wouldn't want anyone else getting their hands on you now would I?'

Sam was stunned. Was Gene flirting with him? No, he couldn't be. He was over thinking again. He'd been doing that a lot lately. Men like Gene Hunt don't flirt with other men. It just didn't happen.

Then the moment had passed and Gene was finishing off his pint and standing up from his chair.

'Right, I'm off. The Missus'll have my guts for garters if I'm late again. I'll see you tomorrow Tyler.'

'Oh,' Sam stammered. 'Ok, right, yeah. See you tomorrow, Guv.'

Sam watched as Gene pulled on his coat and walked rather quickly out of the pub.

Sam had left the pub soon afterwards and made his way back home. Home – he must be desperate if he was thinking of that poxy little bed-sit as home. He wondered at the strangeness of his imagination sometimes.

Why couldn't he have dreamed up a twelve bedroom mansion with an Olympic sized swimming pool and a Jacuzzi in every room? But he supposed there must be a reason, probably the same reason that had made him develop feelings for his aggressive, borderline alcoholic boss.

Gene was so unlike any man that Sam had ever been attracted to in the real world. His type had always been softer, more effeminate men. Usually he was attracted to men wearing eye liner, lipstick and nail varnish. Somehow he couldn't imagine Gene offering to wear a mini skirt with stockings and high heels for Sam in the bedroom like many of his boyfriends had done in the past, although the thought made him smile.

Thinking of Gene made Sam replay the conversation they'd had in the pub. Had he been flirting? If he'd still been in 2006 Sam would have been sure that he was, but this was 1973.

Sam tried to put it out of his mind. Gene was probably just messing with his head. They were very fond of that here. It was just his attraction to Gene making him see things that weren't there and besides it didn't change the fact that Gene was at home now with his wife; His Wife.

Sam may be a lot of things but he was not a home wrecker. He'd never gone after a married man before and he wasn't about to start now.

He did not want to go after Gene Hunt.

Sam's last thought before he fell asleep that night was that if he told himself that enough times he might start to believe it.

When Gene arrived home Sylvia was in the kitchen.

'Hiya love,' she greeted him as he kissed her affectionately on the cheek. 'Dinner won't be long. Why don't you sit down? I'll make you a nice cup of tea.'

'Thanks love,' he replied before removing to the front room and sitting down in his favourite armchair. He kicked off his shoes and listened to the familiar sounds of Sylvia pottering around in the kitchen making tea.

His eyes flicked to the mantelpiece where their wedding photograph stood. He felt another pang of guilt in his chest as he remembered that day. He'd made promises to her that he'd kept all these years and he was pretty sure flirting with his DI was a serious breach of those promises.

It was all Sam's fault. The way his eyes shone when he smiled, his face lit up the room. If he wasn't so bloody – Sam.

It didn't help that Gene was almost certain that Sam had been flirting back with him. Maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part, but Gene was certain that he'd seen a sparkle in Sam's eyes at the exchange.

Then Gene had bolted. There was no other word for it. He'd panicked and needed to get out of there because he was certain his emotions were written all over his face, his desire for Sam out there for everyone to see.

He needed to stop thinking like this.

Luckily Sylvia chose that moment to appear with his tea which he drank before they sat down to eat the dinner she had prepared for them, chicken, potatoes, peas and carrots.

'How was your day, love?' Sylvia asked him.

'Same as usual,' Gene replied. He didn't like telling Sylvia too much about the cases they were working on, he didn't want her to feel like the streets weren't safe. He knew she would worry if she knew too much and – well he couldn't tell her about Sam.

'I had a drink with Harry after work.'

'Oh yes,' she replied. 'How is he?'

'Good, told me he's thinking about retiring.'

'Really? I never thought you'd get him out of that station. It's in his blood that place.'

Gene nodded.

'Mother rang me today,' Sylvia continued. 'The Doctor told her she's to go into hospital for an operation on her hip.'

'Oh aye?'

'She'll need somebody to look after her while she recuperates...'

'Yes?' Gene could sense where this was going.

'Well, I mean – we could have her here couldn't we? We've got the room. We could bring the spare bed down into the dining room and she could stay in there – just until she can manage on her own.'

Gene let out a small groan at the thought of his mother-in-law taking up residence in his dining room for weeks, possibly even months. The old bat had been hinting to come and live with them for ages. This was surely the first step towards her ultimate goal.

Gene had half a mind to say no, that if she was that bad she'd be better off in a care home, but he knew Sylvia would never allow that and Gene was feeling very guilty about the whole fancying his DI thing.

'Alright, go on then,' he told her.

Sylvia grinned at him.

'Thanks, love.' She kissed him on the cheek and Gene tried to think that this was a good thing because he was making his wife happy and not a bad thing because he was being punished by God for breaking the eleventh commandment, 'thou shalt not want to shag thy Detective Inspector.'

After dinner Sylvia washed up while Gene went and had a quick bath. When he arrived back downstairs he found his wife sitting on the settee watching the television. His eyes flicked quickly towards his chair before deciding against it and moving to sit next to her on the settee. She looked at him surprised, even more so when he reached across and took her hand in his, but she didn't comment.

'You know I love you, don't you Sylv?' he asked her softly.

That was when she turned to face him.

'Gene, of course I know. What's brought this on?'

I fancy Sam Tyler.

'Oh nothing, love. Just – difficult case at work you know – must be getting to me.'

She smiled affectionately.

'You know you can talk to me about it Gene, if you need to.'

'Yeah, I know love. But you don't need to be hearing about – all that nasty stuff.' About him.

Sylvia squeezed his hand, wishing he'd just tell her what was on his mind. It must be one hell of a case, probably murder. Murder cases always affected him. But she hadn't heard about anyone being killed recently. Maybe it was too horrible, so bad that the press hadn't been allowed to report it yet. It made her stomach churn, the things Gene had to deal with every day. She knew he would never tell her the worst of it, so she would be there to support him as best she could.

Sam was standing in the doorway of his office, it was late. Everybody else had long since departed for the pub. He was surprised his DI hadn't joined them.

'What are you doing here, Tyler?'

'You know why I'm here, Gene.'

Sam was walking towards him, slowly but with a confidence that Gene found so incredibly erotic. He felt himself getting hard when he noticed the glint in Sam's eye.

'You want this, don't you Gene? You want this as much as I do.'

'Yes, Sam.'

Sam had reached him now and he pushed his chair back and climbed onto his lap straddling him. Gene could feel Sam's hard on pressed against him.

'I've seen the way you look at me, Gene. You're always watching me, like you want to just rip my clothes off and take me right there.'

'That's because I do, Sammy.'

'Then do it Gene. Do it. Fuck me, Gene.'

Gene let out a low growl into Sam's mouth as he kissed him hard.

'Call me Guv,' he told him as he pushed him back off his lap and up onto his desk.

He ripped Sam's shirt open and began to suck at his neck. Sam's body was just the way he remembered it, when he'd found him handcuffed naked to his bed after the Joni Newton incident Gene had drunk in the sight, the image of naked Sam was firmly imprinted on his brain.

'Oh yes, Guv. Guv.'

Sam was moaning like a whore. Gene had always imagined that he'd be loud and God if it wasn't making him harder, how much Sam desired him, wanted him, needed him.

He had Sam's cock in his hand and he was working at it furiously, releasing all that pent up sexual tension that burned between them.

Sam was loving it, he was calling his name over and over and they were both coming.

'Guv, Guv, Gene...'

'Gene,' the softer voice brought Gene back to reality.

It wasn't Sam but Sylvia beneath him and Gene had to bite his tongue to stop himself from crying out a name that wasn't hers and would break her heart if it escaped his lips.

'Oh my God, Gene,' Sylvia said breathlessly when it was over. 'Where the bloody hell did that come from?'

Gene looked over at her, she looked beautiful; her face was flushed and her eyes were sparkling. She looked so happy and Gene was once again hit with a sickening feeling of guilt because she didn't deserve to be treated like this, she shouldn't have to put up with her husband fantasising about another man while making love to her.

He was going to stop this. Tomorrow was a new day and it was a day when he would not think about Sam bloody Tyler.

When Gene closed his eyes to go to sleep he tried to pretend that it wasn't Sam's face he saw.

Sam was usually the first one to arrive in CID in the morning, usually a good hour before the rest of them deigned to appear, so he was surprised when he arrived that morning to find Gene already in his office.

'Morning, Guv,' Sam called to him through the open office door.

'Tyler,' Gene barked sharply, 'Get your scrawny arse in here.'

Something in his tone sounded strange to Sam but he complied and entered the office cautiously, the Guv in this mood could be unpredictable at best.

Gene watched as Sam walked towards his desk, he was desperately trying not to think about his fantasy from the night before. Sam looked anxious; Gene felt his stomach twist at the sight of him.

'Everything ok, Guv?' Sam asked.

Gene nodded.

'Been doing some thinking,' he replied trying hard not to look Sam in the eye. 'What you were saying the other day about – career development.'

'Oh, right,' Sam nodded.

'I want you to do some work with the DC's, partner up with each of them for a couple of weeks. Get them all trained up in this new way of policing of yours.'

That was clearly the last thing Sam was expecting him to say because he seemed speechless for a moment.

'Erm – yeah, of course Guv. But are you sure?'

'Are you complaining Tyler? I thought this was what you wanted to happen? You've been telling me how we need to modernise since you got here.'

'No not complaining, Guv, just wondering... why now? You never seemed keen before.'

'I never said that Sam, I always thought it was a good idea, just a matter of timing and anyway Superintendent Woolf happens to agree with me, no sense delaying the inevitable.'

'Oh ok. So how do you want to run it?'

'For God's sake Gladys, I don't bloody care. You organise it all. Just make sure you don't give me anything to read.'

'Course not Guv.'

Gene chanced a look at Sam's face as he said that and saw that he was smiling. He tried to ignore the swell of joy he felt at having made Sam happy.

That was it, give Tyler a project to keep him busy, keep him out of his hair.

Be a better husband.

Everything was going to be ok.

And he wasn't going to fantasise about fucking Sam over his desk anymore. He wasn't.

Honestly.