The bright August sun beat down on the bright red sheen of a sporty-looking Audi Quattro parked just outside a banner-covered trattoria, idly shimmering in the quiet tranquillity of the calm street, tyres proudly just about covering the double yellow lines at the side of the hot road. A tree rustled next to it, and a bird leapt from its branches, heading towards the car; something about the machine hissed "don't you dare..." and the bird continued to the power lines instead.

From inside the restaurant, a voice swore loudly, startling the bird; the car remained still, quiet, as though it was listening eagerly to what was happening mere feet from it.

"Just put the gun down."

"No."

Another voice answered, with a hint of petulance in its tones; the first speaker growled quietly. The Quattro's crimson sheen trembled in anticipation of the next exchange, the air surrounding the car filled with tension.

"Put the gun down an' nobody gets 'urt."

"You really don't trust me with a firearm, do you?"

"No, an' with bloody good reason, yer pointin' the damn thin' at my 'ead!"

Someone walking along stared at the entrance to the trattoria. From inside it, something rustled gently; a radio started playing "Uptown Girl" from across the street, the light-hearted music making the Audi's metal shudder.

"If you want me to point it elsewhere..." the female voice purred, and something slid onto the floor of the restaurant as the gun travelled southwards. The woman's opposite yelped.

"Bloody 'ell, what're yer tryin' ter do?"

A dark-haired man with harrassment written on the lines of his face peered into the entrance, his eyes widening slightly as he backed away from the restaurant, alarm flitting over his expression.

"Senor Hunt, what is happening?"

"Luigi, get back!"

"And who is-"

"Get away from the doorway, Luigi."

The female voice was suddenly soft, dangerous. The man backed away, turning to run back up the stairs to his flat, yanking the door open and rushing in. The sound of a telephone crashing to the floor as its owner grabbed at it in desperation echoed against the red paint of the patiently waiting, eagerly listening car.

"One last chance," Hunt's voice said quietly; the echo of a cowboy boot thudding on the trattoria floor reverberated onto the Quattro. "Put the gun down now."

"No, I will not!"

There was the sound of someone launching themselves forwards, and then an almighty gunshot; several birds squawked, rustling away in a flurry of feathers as the Quattro seemed to shiver in horror in the burning sun.

Silence reigned for a few moments.

The female voice broke it.

"There, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Hunt didn't reply.

"G- oh, God."

Luigi's feet clattered down the stairs again and into the trattoria, his face white with shock as he hurried over to the unfortunate Hunt.

"Senor Hunt, are you alright?"

"Next- time I- need yer- 'elp- Luigi- I'll ask."

Luigi stepped back, his eyes warily watching the woman as she pushed something in at her waist.

"He'll be fine. Probably."

Hunt groaned.

"Oh, come on, it doesn't hurt that much."

The woman's voice was suddenly bright and light, a smile on her ruby lips as she headed for the door of the trattoria. The Quattro shook slightly, as though in fear.

The sunlight and rows of flowers abruptly revealed DI Alex Drake, a holster-shaped bulge in her white leather jacket, walking along in front of a slightly bent over Gene Hunt, his hands at his waist.

"Yer bloody elbowed me in the gut!"

"I'll say sorry if it helps your ego. It was an accident. Besides, who suggested Luigi's for getting my gun open?"

"Forgotten 'e'd nailed all the bloody bottle-openers onto the tables."

"Is your team who keep hiding them, Senor Hunt!" Luigi called accusingly from below in the trattoria. Gene ignored him.

"Well, next time yer can do it yerself. I didn' like where yer were pointin' that gun."

"I'll say sorry to it later, shall I?"

"I can think of a few ways yer can do that, Bolls."

The Quattro trembled on its wheels as one door was flung open, the other simply being lifted away from its brilliant body. Gene plumped down into his seat, the cords of his Crombie coat trailing through the doorway as he slammed it on them. Alex, beside him, checked her clothes before closing the door calmly.

The car stilled in delight as Alex's hand snuck onto Gene's knee, and Gene gave Alex's thigh a quick stroke before shoving the keys into the ignition, starting the mighty machine. It roared its appreciation, abruptly racing in the direction of Fenchurch East CID, seeming to display its thankfulness in the showy slide through the corner.

As they parked and Gene's lips stole onto Alex's, the engine purred.

A/N: Crazy idea I had at school, hope you like it! Please please please remember to review. Thanks for reading! Jazzola :)