I WOULD SO LOVE TO BE ABLE TO CHASE THE BEAR AWAY (meezardra) wrote in 1973flashfic,

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Philematophobia, by meezardra, "Fear" Challenge

Title: Philematophobia
Author: meezardra
Characters: Sam/Gene
Rating: Green Cortina
Warning: Slash
Word Count: 363
Notes: Un-beta'd...written in about ten minutes. Apologies for any possible mistakes!

For the longest time Sam had never truly feared anything about Gene Hunt because he knew the man was simply a creation of his subconscious – and anything he did to him was not real.
It was not until a drunken night where everything became hazy or far more hilarious and annoying all at the same time that Sam realized he was afraid of Gene.
For a moment, Sam thought he’d imagined Gene’s hand cupping his cheek for a few seconds, his eyes poring into Sam’s – contaminating him with thoughts of how close Gene’s face was to his own. What frightened Sam was the fact that he bothered to calculate the distance between their mouths so precisely in a matter of seconds.
Sam snapped his head back before anything could progress. He was suddenly fighting to be sober so he didn’t act upon those calculations he’d been having lately in the middle of his everyday life – the distance between their faces, hands…even eyes.
He must have looked like a deer in a pair of headlights because Gene frowned at him inquisitively from his chair at Sam’s rickety table for two.
“What was that about?” Sam muttered, blinking rapidly as his heart thudded under his shirt. He was nearly shaking – but he didn’t know what caused it. Fear that Gene was calculating their distances too or that Gene knew Sam calculated such things. If Gene knew, that meant he’d either punch the affections out of Sam or forget about the entire thing.
God, he was so tired of worrying about the latter.
Sam’s question went unanswered for a moment as the two men sat silently and the smoke wafting from Gene’s dying cigarette curled towards the globe above them.
“Come here,” Sam managed to utter before he lunged at Gene to reach him, feel the fabric of his shirt, their lips crushing together, to smell his cologne and cigarettes, to share his scotch aftertaste.
In the end, it didn’t matter who made the first move because Sam wanted to make the last to reach what they both needed. They didn’t need fear anymore between two men.
It wasn’t like Sam had a fear of kissing.
Tags: fear challenge
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