Life on Mars Fic - A Marked Man

[dorsetgirl]

 

Title: A Marked Man

Author: DorsetGirl

Fandom: Life on Mars

Disclaimer: The crack is mine; the characters belong to the BBC/Kudos. I’m not making any money out of this. No harm meant.

Rating: PG for suggested slash.

Word Count: 365

Notes: Sam/Gene, erm crack!fluff??

A/N: A bit of an experiment in style here; hope it works.

 

 

 A Marked Man

 

 “What do you think then, Guv?”

 

“Said yes, didn’t I? Against me better judgement.”

 

“No, I mean – which one?”

 

“That one.”

 

“Oh come on, you’re not taking this seriously.”

 

“I’m here. That’s quite serious. OK then – that one.”

 

“It’s big enough.”

 

“So am I, or hadn’t you noticed? What about yours then? Only they don’t seem to come in pink.”

 

“That one.”

 

“Not very girly, is it?”

 

“Nor am I, or hadn’t you noticed? This is quite normal where I come from, you know Guv.”

 

“Well it might be normal where you come from, Gladys, but where I  come from, only...”

 

“Only what, Gene? Only poofs...?”

 

 

 

 

“Are we going in then?”

 

“Unless you’re going to smash a window, Sam.”

 

 

 

 

“We’re both looking for wedding rings; we saw some in the window we liked.”

 

“Double wedding is it Sirs?”

 

“Er, yeah.”

 

“And can I show you some ladies’ bands as well?”

 

“Sam?”

 

“I don’t think so Gene. No, we can sort that out another day, thank you. Er, when they can come with us.”

 

“Which trays is it then gentlemen? 13 and 21? Very good choices Sirs, just give me a moment.”

 

 

 

 

“For you Sir? Ah yes, a handsome, strong band. We don’t sell many wedding bands to men; somehow they still think that...”

 

 

“And you Sir? Tray 21 – a good choice for the, er, smaller hand. If I might be so bold, I’d suggest not too fine a band. With Sir’s, um, slim fingers, you need to... Oh. Sorry, I’m sure. Hahrm. As I was saying... Yes, a good choice, Sir. Sets Sir’s hand off a treat.”

 

 

“Your change, Sir. And yours, Sir. And I look forward to serving your good ladies.”

 

 

“Twat.”

“You’re just upset he didn’t stroke your fingers for another five minutes, Gladys.”

“Do me a favour, Guv.”

“Already did, Sam. And have you thought what you’re going to tell Cartwright?”

 

“Oh, God, she’s bound to notice. Um, my Auntie just died and left me Grandad’s ring. And that’s the only finger it fits. And you?”

 

“No-one’ll ask me, Sam. Proper respect for me rank.”

 

 

 

 

“There you go then, Gene. Fits a treat. You’re a marked man now. Mmmm.”

 

“Soppy sod. You too.”

 

 

 

 

END.