Title:       Did It Again
Author:      Claire

Fandom:      The Bill
Pairing:     Ashton / Gilmore... (Only kinda not really...)
Rating:      PG-13, language
Archive:     Yes
Feedback:    charlton@cobweb.com.au

Disclaimers: Not mine.  Think Thames Television
holds the honours, yeah?  It's been so long since I
cared that I've forgotten.  Ooops.  Not mine anyway.

Comments:

Set after the episode containing 'The Kiss'.  [pause]  Which incidentally, being
in Australia, I haven't seen.  Don't ask me why I felt compelled to
write this as I truly don't have an answer for you.  It just came to me and
wrote it.  Apologies if it flies in the face of canon.

Thanks to Kel for insisting that I post and also to Helen for kindly sharing 'The
Kiss' with those of us still waiting to see it. [g]

Self beta'd and posted in a moment of heat inspired insanity. That's my excuse
and I'm sticking to it.

Oh, and spot the uncredited cameo from my true slash pets.  What can I say? They're
very demanding and don't take kindly to newcomers muscling in on their turf. [g]
It's okay though.  This is well and truly a once off.

Enjoy.

=========
Did It Again
=========

He'd done it again.

Fucked up.  Made a fool of himself.  Again.

Story of his life, really.

If the road to hell was paved with good intentions then Luke Ashton imagined he
was close enough to his fiery destination to feel the warmth of the flames
licking his face.

He tried and he tried yet hardly anything ever turned out like he wanted it to.
Some days he honestly wished he'd never bothered to drag himself out of bed.
Others that he hadn't been born. Usually he took it all in his stride, telling
himself for every fuck up he'd also managed a good deed, something that made him
feel proud of himself.  Contrary to the way he knew he was perceived by the
other coppers, Luke wanted to give everything he had to the force.  Although it
had been hard, returning to the blue serge had felt like coming home.

And today he'd only gone and disrupted, if not outright destroyed it.

Idiot.

Couldn't keep it to himself.  Oh no.  That would be too easy.
Having used it to his advantage more times than he cared to remember he could
have drawn on his famous 'bunny-in-the-headlights' expression and bolted.  No.
Not *could* have, *should* have.  He should have done a runner.  It's not
like it wouldn't have been expected.

But no.  He had to go instigate the kiss.  Of course he did.  Because it was what
he wanted he threw caution to the winds and allowed himself to get swept up in
the sweet intensity of the moment.

Fool.

He should have known better.  He should have fucking known better.

It didn't even matter that he'd been the one to start it, that his were the lips
to make the first move, so to speak.  If he'd had any sense he would have laughed
it off, made a point of belittling the moment as nothing more than a sick joke.
But he didn't.  He couldn't.  Not with Craig's... Sergeant Gilmore's heartfelt
sounding words playing over in his head.

"I like you...  I can't take my eyes off you..."

It was like the very words he'd so desperately wanted the courage to voice had
been plucked straight out of his mouth and brought to life.

He knew he shouldn't have allowed himself to get caught up in the moment. As
mistakes went it was right up there with the best.  His stupidity honestly defied
all logic.  As precious as the kiss was to him, if he could he'd take it back in
the blink of an eye.  Better for everyone that way. Better for Sergeant Gilmore.
Definitely better for himself.

The tantalising prospect of possible hope didn't sit well with Luke.  A battle
weary romantic, he almost preferred to live in the realm of his carefully played
out fantasies than he did in the humdrum of reality.  It was simply easier.  Even
if by some stretch of the imagination Sergeant Gilmore was deluded enough to
fancy him it would never work.  How could it? Ignoring for a moment the fact that
Gilmore was a Sergeant, far out of his pleb like league, he was out and proud.
Unlike Luke who was so far in the closest that he was looking into real estate
prices in Narnia.

Gay.  Bi.  Straight.

Labels made him uncomfortable.  He was just who he was.  And that was confused.
Luke wanted to like women more than he did men.  He wanted to quite a lot
actually.  Not because he was ashamed of his desires, his need to be held by
strong masculine arms, no, but simply because it would have made life
so much easier.  Although he wasn't afraid of taking the hard road there was
still a part of him that longed to be able to just fall in love with a pretty
girl and settle down.  It was unlikely to happen though.  Not when his eyes were
drawn to men far more frequently than they were to women. Returning
to the police force hadn't exactly helped either. For all their progressive
statements and gay liaison officers the Met was still as homophobic as ever. Make
jokes first, feign open armed acceptance second seeming to be their unofficial
motto.

Gilmore's confidence in his sexuality and his refusal to hide it was one of the
first things Luke had picked up on his return to Sun Hill.  He admired his
openness as much as it astonished him.  For a brief while he'd even toyed with
coming out about his bisexuality himself.  But he couldn't do it. He didn't want
to give his colleagues anything else to give him stick about. While pride was all
well and good he wanted to belong more than anything else.  Most of the relief
treated him as little more than a joke as it was without tossing more ammunition
their way.

Throwing himself into resettling into the role of a police officer, Luke tried to
ignore Gilmore.  While he was content with accepting that he admired the man he
didn't want to take it any further.  Admiring your sergeant was one thing,
wanting his hands on your body, his mouth on your cock, was something else
entirely.  He didn't want to notice how handsome he was or how good he was at his
job.  And he particularly didn't want to notice how he felt whenever Gilmore was
around.

Not being able to ignore his sergeant, he settled on telling himself that it was
little more than a silly crush, something he should have grown out of years ago.
For a while it worked too.  Romanticising him, he spent many a blissful hour
daydreaming what it would be like to have a relationship with Gilmore. A *proper*
relationship.  Not a hurried blow job or an inadequate fuck in a toilet somewhere,
a real relationship where for perhaps the first time in his life he'd know that
he could have someone to rely on.  Knowing that Reg Hollis had more of a chance
of marrying Sarah Michelle Gellar than he did of it ever happening didn't really
worry him.  He was used to living with his daydreams.

Then came the day he noticed Gilmore looking at him in a way that he'd never seen
the sergeant look at other officers.  Instead of feeling flattered he'd panicked,
imagining that Gilmore knew all about his fantasies and was laughing at him.  But
the looks continued and Luke had found that he no real choice open to him other
than to assume Gilmore liked what he saw.  Not that it helped him.  If anything it
made him more confused than ever.

And today, completely out of the blue, they'd kissed.  While it may have been a
two way street Luke shouldered the sting of blame and the brand of failure all
himself.  Even the thought of what Gilmore must be thinking of him made him want
to cringe.

Cock-tease.  Boy.  Manipulator.

The sergeant probably thought that he'd only kissed him to get something over him.
In his position Luke knew that he'd think the same thing.  There was no other
halfway decent or valid explanation.  No way could the desire and interest be mutual.

It just couldn't.

~*~

Plastering what he hoped to be a suitably happy-go-lucky smile on his face, Luke
paid his exorbitant entrance fee and walked into Trade.  Pulsating dance music
assaulted his eardrums, reminding him in no uncertain terms that he wasn't down
the local.  For a second he wished that he was, sharing a pint with the people he
hoped he could count amongst his friends, Oasis circa Wonderwall, back when they
were still good, on the jukebox, snide comments being bandied around about CID
and that prick Chandler.  The sight of a gorgeous young thing, his slim hips and
legs encased in the latest designer denim, his smooth and toned torso bare and
gleaming with sweat, dancing in front of him however immediately changed his mind.

He needed to be here.

He needed to be picked up, to be fucked by an anonymous stranger who he'd never
see again and who wouldn't care that he was a fool.

He needed to forget about Sun Hill and the prat of himself he'd made with Gilmore.

The smile on his face changing from feigned to real as he watched the boy dance
erotically to the music, Luke felt his mood lift.  While he didn't go clubbing
often it was something he loved.  Surrounded by beautiful strangers and with
pounding dance music making conversation close to an impossibility, he could
pretend to be something he wasn't.  Clubs, especially gay clubs, made him feel
confident.  They also had the rare ability to make him feel wanted.  Not even
knowing that it was only his body the men wanted could detract from the feeling.
Although Luke knew it made little sense, he didn't care.

Tonight he wanted to feel wanted.  And if that came courtesy of his body then
so be it.

Pushing his way onto the dance floor, Luke felt all the tension slowly seep out
of his body as he started to dance.  Losing himself in the rhythm came naturally
to him and he moved with sensual ease.  No one knew him and he thrived on the
anonymity, twisting his body and swivelling his hips in time to the music,
enjoying every second of it.  Without seeking eye contact from any of the
glistening bodies around him he knew with an almost clinical detachment that he
was being watched.  It was only to be expected.  He'd dressed to impress, the
tight black leather trousers being an expensive souvenir from Amsterdam, the
sheer black t-shirt from Paris. He knew he looked good.  Sexy even.  The fact
that he knew deep down that he was prostituting himself he pushed to the back of
his mind.

For what felt to him like hours Luke danced.  Men came on to him but, not ready
for that yet, he danced close to them, rubbing his body against theirs, before
dancing away.  Eventually, when he felt as though he could dance no more, Luke
decided that the time had come for the main event and walked determinedly towards
the toilets.  As he would have felt safe betting his life on, a man followed him,
his hand snaking out and holding the door to the toilets open as he pushed
through it.  A quick glance through downcast, shy eyes showed that the man was
attractive and Luke led the way into the first available cubicle.

On his knees, with the man's cock in his mouth, Luke no longer felt sexy.
Although he'd got what he'd come for he felt cheap.  When the man wanted to repay
the favour he shook his head, barely repressing a shudder of repulsion.  The man
didn't seem to care though, zipping up his fly and heading straight back to the
dance floor without so much as backwards glance.  Ferreting a Tic-Tac out of his
pocket and popping it into his mouth, Luke sat on the toilet seat and fought the
urge to cry.

Not that he had anyone to blame for any of it other than himself.

Same old, same old.

Looking up to see a middle aged man standing in front of the cubicle, his cock
already in his hand, Luke abruptly stood up and pushed his way out of the toilet.
Maybe after a hit of Amyl he'd be that desperate, but not now. Now he just
wanted to get away.

The night stretching out before him, Luke made his way back to the dance floor
hoping that by dancing he'd be able to regain some of his self-respect.  A dancer
not looking where he was flailing his arms around, he narrowly avoided being
smacked in the face and, caught off balance, nearly fell.  Strong hands caught
him just in time and he found himself being helped to his feet by a man with
perhaps the most startlingly beautiful blue eyes he'd ever seen.  Even in the
ultraviolet light of the club they were unmistakeably striking.  The rest of the
stranger's pale face effortlessly lived up to the beauty of his eyes.  If he'd
indicated he wanted Luke to follow him to the toilets he would have trailed after
him with a skip in his step.

"There you go," the man shouted, smiling as he let go of Luke.  "Almost had a
nasty fall there," he added, a twinge of an American accent obvious in his voice.

"Thanks," Luke replied loudly enough to be heard over the music.  "I'm..." The
rest of his reply died on his lips as another man, his eyes as strikingly green
as the other's were blue, materialised next to the American and clamped his hand
down on his friend's shoulder.  "Come on Chris," the newcomer shouted, a look of
almost comical desperation evident on his handsome face.  "Haven't you had enough
of this yet?  Speaking for myself, I have. Well *and* truly had enough in fact.
It's like hell on earth in here."

The American, Chris, mock pouted, his eyes twinkling with good humour. "Aaaaw...
And there I was thinking I was going to make a clubber out of you after all," he
drawled, grinning and tilting his head to the left.  "Look Sam, more men that
look as unhappy as you do.  Maybe you could all form a club..."

Following Chris' gaze, what Luke saw almost made his knees buckle beneath him.

No!  It couldn't be...  He wasn't part of the 'scene'.  Luke knew for a fact that
he wasn't.

But there he was.

His eyes locked on Luke's, his expression as cold as ice, Sergeant Gilmore was
standing with a group of friends on the other side of the dance floor. Dressed in
casual designer clothes they looked as though they'd been out for a meal
somewhere and had stumbled into Trade by some sort of hideous mistake. If
expressions told stories then Gilmore's was clearly stating that he viewed Luke
as some sort of parasitic life form.

Closeted.  Tease.  Slut.

Oh yeah.  He'd really done it this time.

~ end ~