Title: Team Talk
Rating: Blue Cortina?
Summary: Sam tries to introduce people skills.
Disclaimer: No-one belongs to me.
A/N: Written for the 1973flashficSports Challenge. Slash, but nothing explicit. There, that surprised you, didn’t it?
“Your round, Tyler.”
“They should make ‘dodging buying a drink’ into an Olympic sport, guv. You’d win Gold every time.”
“I’d win at any sport I decide to do.”
“So why don’t we? It’d be good for morale. Team-building.”
Gene took a long look at his DI. “Yet again, you’ve lost me, Tyler. What are you on about?”
“Why don’t we have a football match or something? Get to know the team better.”
Gene took a drag of his cigarette. “RCS have got a football team. They represent the Station in the Lancashire Constabulary Division.”
Sam made a face. “P’raps not football then. Tennis?”
“Pffft. That’s a bit girly, even for you, Gladys.”
“Yeah? Try saying that to Ilie Nastase, guv.”
Gene pursed his lips. “You’re just narked ’cos I got the breakthrough on the Winchester Road robberies before you.”
“Using my methods.”
“Yeah. Which just shows that I’m adaptable. Whiskey, Tyler. Me tongue’s sticking to the roof of me mouth here.”
Sam leaned over and said quietly, “I’ve got something that can help you unstick it,” with a smirk, raising his eyebrows at his DCI.
A smile tugged at Gene’s lips. “Later, Sam. Whiskey first.”
Grinning, Sam wandered to the bar while Gene sat back surveying his men at play. It had been a tough case, but a mixture of gut feeling and gay-boy science had brought it to a successful conclusion. Days like this were good ones and his officers deserved to let their hair down.
“Got you a double,” Sam announced, plonking the glasses on the table and sitting down.
“You trying to get me drunk, Sammy-boy?”
Sam snorted. “As if you need any encouragement to do that. What about rounders then?”
Gene’s look would have melted a lesser man. “God, are you still......? We’re not school-boys, Sam.”
“Now you’re talking.” It was Gene’s turn to smirk. “You can play with my middle wicket anytime.”
Sam grinned, and lifted his glass to his lips. “Promises, promises.”
They drank their Scotch in companionable silence.
“Your round, Gene.”
“How about we do a bit of ‘team-building’ back at your flat and carry on this discussion there, Inspector?”
Sam appeared to consider this suggestion. “There’s not really room for all the squad in my poky little flat, guv.”
“So..... How about, as esteemed leaders of said team, we have the discussion and inform the team of our decision in the morning?”
Sam grabbed his jacket in indecent haste. “Good idea. C’mon. My morale could do with a bit of raising.”
They were halfway out of the door when he turned his head to look at the empty glasses on the table, and then back to Gene who was affecting an innocent air. “Bloody bastard. You’ve just won Gold at the Olympics again!”