theposhmouthytart | the cat's outta the bag; rp for havinhoops

It was an uncommonly quiet night for CID London. The sun set was always lovely over a bustling city, but Alex Drake couldn't enjoy this one; she was fast asleep at her desk. Even if the night was quiet, the week had been unforgivably long, and she hadn't been sitting down more than a half-hour before her head had dropped heavily, her eyes slid shut, and her cheek landed with an unceremonious thump on top of a half-completed piled of paperwork.

This being CID, and no matter how quiet, the nap was never meant to last very long. Duke (himself who had been napping for a few hours under Chris' chair, before Alex's soft snores had roused him) leapt onto the desk stealthily, padding past haphazardly tossed pens and scraps of papers until he reached Alex, whereupon he went about grooming the hair over her ear intently. Grunting back into consciousness, she swatted him away and shifted around her head, but Duke seemed very intent on making sure that the hair behind Alex's ear was going to stay laying down. Or, perhaps, start sticking straight up in the air, depending on the direction of grooming.

"Knock it off, Duke," Alex muttered into her paperwork.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The sight of a kitten grooming its adoptive mother would have warmed the cockles of most men's hearts. Most men, however, were not Gene Hunt, who surveyed the situation and harrumphed. Had it been Chris or one of the other blokes, he would've swatted them upside the head for sleeping on the job, but, well, you couldn't hit a lady DI.

"Drake!" he barked. "I'm not payin' you t' take much-needed beauty sleep on th' job! An' keep th' soddin' cat off those reports before they're used as kitty litter!"

"I really don't get paid enough for this," Alex muttered. As a matter of fact, she thought, technically she didn't get paid at all, at least if she didn't account imaginary construct money. Not that she worried that much about her imaginary construct finances, either. It just didn't seem worth it.

With a groan she sat up, scooping up Duke with one hand and sauntering into Gene's office. "Guv, it's late. I'm exhausted, and you're exhausted. Maybe we should just call it a night and finish the paperwork tomorrow?"

"An' I don' get paid near enough t' deal with you, Bolly," Gene retorted, crumpling a doodle and tossing it into the bin. "But I s'pose we can 'ead out t' Luigi's. Leave th' 'airball 'ere, though, otherwise I expect Luigi's entree tomorrow night'll feature meatballs made from cat meat. Though it'd prob'ly taste better'n th' slop 'e's servin' now." Gene stood up, shrugging into his jacket, then taking his coat from its hook in the corner and putting it on, too.

Alex frowned. Duke had curled up in her arm, purring madly and bumping his head into her stomach. She scratched his ears absentmindedly.

"Oh, he gets left here alone every night," Alex argued. "We should take him. I can slip him in my handbag; Luigi wouldn't notice a thing." She smiled mischievously. "Oh, come on, live a little, Gene."

Alex was soft for the bloody kitten, Gene thought, and that alone was why he never should've let her keep it. Not at CID, at any rate; if she needed something to mother, she could keep it at her own sodding flat. (At least then it wouldn't be pissing on his chair at every opportunity.)

"All right," he grumbled, knowing that Alex would keep nagging him till he gave in. "But if y'wind up starin' at a plate of spaghetti kittenese t'morrow night, don' say I didn't warn ya."

Alex rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

Heading back to her desk, she fished out her handbag and dropped Duke unceremoniously into it. She scratched her ears again. "I think I good outing is just was you need, right?" she said to the kitten.

She pulled her handbag over her shoulder gently and headed for the door. "Come on, Gene," she said impatiently.

"Thought it was a girl, anyway," Gene muttered, shoving his car keys into his pocket. If he was lucky, Alex would just forget to bring the bloody kitten back to CID in the morning and save them all a load of trouble. He knew better than to hope for such an outcome, though.

"I 'ope it pisses in your 'andbag," he added, just for good measure.

Alex shot him a dirty look and headed out the door of CID.

"If you're not careful," she muttered, "I'll let her cough a hairball up on your plate."

She frowned. "And it is a girl. I was just... groggy."

Actually, she still wasn't half sure. She figured they should take the cat to a proper vet, eventually, but it seemed to be settling in just fine at CID, and being an indoor cat, she wasn't too worried.

"Well, it's just a shame I won't be able to take her with me when I go home. I bet Molly would love to have a cat."

Gene held the door for her, rolling his eyes. "'Course, right, forgot you were experienced with animals an' all."

He kept his mouth shut when Alex mentioned Molly - it was strange, he thought, how she never talked about her, didn't have a picture in her flat or anything. It was almost enough to make him feel sorry for the poor girl, but he sure as hell wasn't going to say that.

Edited 2009-08-04 13:10 (UTC)

"I'm not experienced," she said, slipping out the door and heading down the steps, trying not to jostle the handbag too much.

It gave her a slight smile to think of the look on Luigi's if he knew she was bringing a cat into the restaurant. Luigi had been nothing but kind to her, and he didn't deserve it, but she imagined her colleagues enjoyment of taking the piss out of the poor man had somehow rubbed off on her.

"I just clearly have an instinct with animals that you lack," she added haughtily.

"Tell you what, love, if you want to see my animal instincts, all you 'ave t' do is ask." Gene leered at Alex's shapely bum as she walked out the door in front of him. He rather enjoyed flirting with Alex, even though she happened to be of the belief that it would never come to anything. (Gene, however, knew otherwise.)

"Oh, spare me the agony, if you would," Alex replied, rolling her eyes.

Of course, she wouldn't admit in a million years she sort of enjoyed when Gene flirted with her. She didn't quite know why, but at some point, it had stopping being irritating and offensive and become almost endearing.

She paused at the end of the sidewalk, waiting for Gene to catch up.

"Mos' birds wouldn' call it agony, Bols," Gene drawled. "Quite th' opposite, in fact." Well, he imagined that women spoke favourably about sex with him. He hadn't had any complaints in that department, at any rate.

"You seen that Evan bloke lately?" Because it was totally a relevant question, and not at all out of the blue.

Gene's question caught her completely off guard, and she paused, blinking for a moment, before turning to look at him.

"Well, no, I suppose I haven't. I imagine he's been busy since the Prices. Raising a child on your own is quite a toll, really."

In all honesty, she had decided contacting Evan again would be a particularly bad idea, especially since she didn't remember ever meeting herself when she was younger. The whole idea gave her a headache, and Evan certainly hadn't tried to contact her, so it seemed best to simply leave well enough alone.

"I don't really see why you'd care," she added, defensively.

Because Evan had seemed entirely too fond of Drake for his own good, that was why. And even though he seemed kind enough to his goddaughter, he'd still been shagging his best mate's wife, which made him a slimy bastard in Gene's eyes.

"Yeah, well, I expect you'd know." There was a hint of sarcasm in Gene's tone - Alex never talked about what parenting was like, hardly ever mentioned her daughter.

"Jus' wonderin', that's all." He stepped past Alex, opening the door to the trattoria.

Alex shot him a strange look and walked through the door, adjusting her handbag, and hoping Duke didn't see it as a good time to start yowling.

"I would. What, does it suddenly bother you I don't talk about my personal life?" she asked him pointedly. Molly was enough of a sore spot as it was, not to mention adding Evan and her parents to the mix. It seemed better just to leave them out of conversation altogether.

the cat's outta the bag; rp for havinhoops

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject