The Challenge (A New Year's Eve fic)

[smallhobbit]

Title: The Challenge
Rating: Blue cortina
Word Count: 560 words.
Notes:  Written for and beta-ed byjinxed100 who provided the prompts of Sam, Gene, kilt, single malt

 

Sam Tyler regretted getting drunk on Christmas Eve.  As he walked into the station a week later he was greeted by a loud wolf whistle from Phyllis, followed by “Nice knees, Boss, anything else you want to show us?”

Sam tried to sidle into CID without being noticed, but of course the whole department had been in The Railway Arms when he had drunkenly accepted Gene’s challenge.  And naturally the man himself was standing in the middle of the office.

“Give us a twirl then, Gladys.”  He turned round slowly and ignored the catcalls and the encouragement to turn faster and get some lift.

“You look lovely, Dorothy,” Gene grinned.  “Now you lot, contrary to popular belief we have work to do, so get on with it.”

Sam sat down at his desk, keeping his legs very firmly together.  Chris had told him that every Christmas Eve the Guv would promise a bottle of single malt to anyone brave enough to wear a kilt to work on New Year’s Eve.  Sam knew this was a challenge no-one in the right minds would accept, so why on earth had he let his drink filled brain allow him to accept it?  He thought he’d got away with it when he’d regretfully informed DCI Hunt on their return from the Christmas break that he didn’t have a kilt.  However, when he had come into work on December 30^th, there on his desk had been a kilt.  On it had been pinned a note with full instructions as to how it was to be worn.  He’d looked at the note and given a heartfelt sigh.

Sam spent the morning with a surprising number of detectives dropping things just by his desk, so that they had to bend down in order to retrieve them.  He tried to ignore them and concentrate on the file he was reading, but by the time Ray had accidentally dropped his pen for the third time in under half an hour he was reaching breaking point. 

Fortunately, Gene chose that moment to come out of his office.  “Right, gentlemen, in honour of New Year’s Eve beer o’clock has been brought forward.” 

Sam practically sprang out of his chair.

“Not you, Tyler.  My office, now.”

Sam looked so woebegone that Chris tried to say he’d wait for him, but Ray grabbed his arm and told him the last one to the pub would have to buy the first round.

Gene followed Sam into his office and shut the door.  “So you think you’ve earned that whisky then?”

Sam nodded.

“You know what the note said?”

Another nod.

Gene stood close to the younger man.  “Well, I’d better check.”  With that he slid his hand up underneath the kilt and ran his fingers over Sam’s arse. 

“Good lad.  I’d say you’ve earned that whisky.”  He noticed that Sam hadn’t tried to resist and therefore he began to let his hand move forward across his hips.  Sam responded by moving towards Gene’s chest and putting his hands on his waist.

“Nice idea, Sammy-boy.  But I need to get the kilt back in a reasonable condition, so I suggest I give you and your whisky a lift home so that we can get the kilt off before it meets with an accident.”

And Sam Tyler knew then exactly why he’d accepted the Guv’s challenge on Christmas Eve.