I made some chocolate brownies a few weeks ago for my best friend's birthday and, well... My imagination couldn't help but come up with this! Just a little bit of Galex that was begging to be written down; enjoy! It wouldn't have been finished and posted sooner, but exams got in the way. :P

X =D

Disclaimer - I don't own Ashes to Ashes, just a fair number of brownies... :P

If I Knew You Were Coming

Sunday, Alex had decided, was the best day of the week. This was mainly because she barely ever had to work on a Sunday unless they had been hit with a particularly heavy case, and because Sundays were always... nice. Sundays reminded her of summer, of trips to the park as a child, ice cream from ice cream vans and a strawberry milkshake after morning Mass. Sundays also reminded her of Molly. Molly had loved Sundays too, and if the weather was nice, Alex had always taken Molly for a picnic, or to the park or sometimes, on occasion, to the seaside if the traffic and weather outlooks were okay. But if it was raining, she and Molly had always stayed inside in their pyjamas and played board games all day long, or watched old romantic movies together. But the thing Alex loved most about Sundays was that Sunday, was a baking day.

Throughout her whole life, Alex couldn't remember a Sunday where there had been a good reason for not baking. As a child, she had always baked with her Mum nearly every Sunday and later, with Evan. She and Molly had always managed to cook or bake something together on a Sunday, and then they would sit there afterwards in the lounge, licking the last of the cake mixture from the bowl with the soap omnibuses on in the background. However, since Alex had arrived in the eighties, the chance to even pick up a recipe book, let alone chance to find some ingredients and the time to bake, had never arrived. But on that Sunday, as it drizzled with rain outside, Alex found herself stood in her kitchen, leggings and an oversized, off-the shoulder T-shirt on, with a tub of margarine in one hand, and cocoa powder in the other.

Sunday, Gene had decided, was the worst day of the week. This was mainly because Sunday meant no work, no distractions, and no-one to talk to. As a child, Sundays had always been anticipated with dread. Sundays reminded Gene of being forced into his best clothes, dragged to church and made to sit through a long and boring church service. They reminded him of roast dinners that went cold, plates that got thrown against the wall and whisky glasses dropped on the floor, smashed to pieces. Sundays made him think of his Dad's grip on his arm as he pulled him out of the church for not listening, they reminded him of the sting on his cheek where his Dad slapped him across the face, they made him recall the feel of spittle landing on his face, the sound of shouting as his drunken father threw the dinner plates at his Mum and stormed out of the house, heading for the local boozer.

Throughout his whole life, Gene couldn't remember a Sunday that had been what could be described as at all pleasant. As a child, it had just involved being dragged to church in the morning, being beaten black and blue by lunchtime, and then being forced to hear his parents screaming, crockery smashing and the front door slamming in the evening. Sundays with his wife back when he was married had never been much fun either. Gene couldn't recall a pleasant Sunday spent with the ex Mrs Hunt; they had all just consisted of Sunday lunch eaten in stony silence, him taking himself off to the pub for a quiet drink later, and no sex in the evening. Sundays, Gene decided, were shit days. But on that Sunday, Gene decided he'd had enough. He was bored, he was wallowing in his own self-pity – something he was never proud to admit he was doing, and, if he was being honest with himself, he was lonely. So, he found himself driving the ten minutes to Luigi's, climbing the stairs, wine in tow, and raising his hand to knock on the door of his DI's flat.

Alex was just in the process of loading her second batch of brownies into the oven when a knock sounded at the door. Frowning, she pulled off her apron and made her way to the door, still with a mixture covered spatula in her hand.

"Gene!" she exclaimed in surprise as she opened the door and stepped back to let him in. "What are you doing here? Please don't tell me someone's been murdered, I was just about to start on some gingerbread men."

Gene looked at her for a moment, totally baffled by her casual attire, messy hair and lack of makeup on her face. "Sod the flamin' gingerbread men, Bolly, looks like you've got 'alf the ingredients of whatever else yer've been making all over yer face."

Blushing a little, Alex laughed and turned away to wipe the chocolaty evidence away from around her mouth before looking back at Gene. "Brownies, Gene. I've been making brownies. The first batch will be cool soon if you want one," she told him, walking back towards the kitchen where, indeed, there were about fifteen brownies sat on a cooling rack.

Gene stood there in silence for a few moments, still holding onto the wine bottle as he surveyed the scene before him. He couldn't quite believe his eyes, or his ears. First, he walks in on his sexy, sassy, confident, ballsy DI baking, and then, she invites him in, acts like it's nothing and offers him a chocolate brownie. He was, in a word, baffled.

"Bloody 'ell, what's this all for? The next WI meeting, Bolly?" Gene asked as Alex bent down to peer into the oven. His eyes followed her backside as she moved, his gaze appreciative as her baggy T-shirt rode up a little way to reveal her arse, clad in thin black leggings and, Gene could work out, some of her trademark lacy knickers.

Alex straightened up and turned around, absentmindedly sucking on a corner of the spatula. For a moment, Gene was mesmerised. His eyes were glued to the spatula, watching in awe as she sucked gently on the plastic, her tongue peeking out to gently lick away the chocolate brownie mixture that still remained down the side. Feeling his trousers tightening, he cleared his throat and turned away, looking at the cooling brownies on the table.

"No, I just felt like doing some baking, that's all. Thought I could bring some into CID on Monday, I'm sure it would all get eaten. I haven't baked in ages; I used to do it all the time back home."

He glanced at her and upon seeing that her lips had now made it further down the spatula, he quickly turned away again. "In Hyde?" he asked, almost sceptically.

"Hm... Yes, in Hyde," Alex sighed, removing the spatula from her mouth and chucking it into the sink. She picked up the nearby mixing bowl, still with a surprising amount of mixture left in, and grabbed two spoons. With a suggestive half-smile, half-smirk on her face, she made her way round to stand opposite Gene and held a spoon out to him. "Want to lick this out with me?" she asked, wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue.

Gene stiffened, his gaze torn between the spoon in her hand, her moist lips and the playful glint in her eyes. "I, erm-"

"It's not a complicated question, Gene," Alex said, holding the spoon closer to him. "You look like you've never seen a woman bake before."

"Never seen a woman like you bake before, Bols," he replied, meeting her gaze. And when she frowned slightly, he said, "Yer waltz around my station like yer own the place, yer make our success rates soar with yer psycho bollocks, and yer not afraid to constantly remind me o' that neither, yer nag, nag, nag in my ear twenty-four seven t' do everything by the book, yer possibly the most annoying, sexy, mental bloody fruitcake I've ever met and..."

Alex sighed. "What point are you trying to make here, Gene? Because if you're going to insult me, I'll eat all this myself and you can bugger off."

"No, no..." Gene sighed, his lips twitching into a smile at first, before he found himself laughing, gesturing to the whole kitchen, cluttered with flour, sugar, chocolate chips and mixing bowls. "I'm trying t' say that you confuse the 'ell out of me, Bols!"

Alex set the mixing bowl and spoons down, frowning at him slightly. "How do I?"

"Like I said, yer drive me crazy, Bolly, with yer psycho theories and yer rules and regulations, yer skin-tight jeans and bloody delectable arse, and here y'are, baking and asking me t' lick a bowl out with yer!" He shook his head in disbelief, their eyes meeting, sparkling with amusement. "Make yer mind up, Bols," he said softly.

There was silence for a few moments, before Alex sighed and smiled at him, holding out a spoon again. "Just for once, Gene, can we not have the in depth discussion about the meaning of life, or any of the complications or anything? Can't we just sit here together, eat cake mixture and pretend that life really is that simple? Make your mind up. Do you want some of this or not?"

Gene stared at the cake mixture for a few seconds, and then his gaze flickered up to meet hers, sea green colliding with hazel for a few seconds before his eyes dipped down to watch her lips as her tongue peeked out to wet them slightly. A profound quiet suddenly settled in the kitchen before wordlessly, Gene reached out to take the two spoons and mixing bowl from her.

Alex frowned slightly, her gaze moving from the bowl he had set down on the table behind him to his face. "What are you doing?"

His gaze met hers, and Alex was taken aback by the way his eyes seemed to glitter with intensity as he stepped closer to her. "Making my mind up, Bols," he murmured, and before she knew it, his lips were on hers.

He tasted of whisky and cigarette smoke and everything else she didn't like but was divine all at the same time. His lips moved over hers gently, their kiss almost reverent as Gene brought his hands up to gently rest on her waist and before she knew what she was doing, Alex had entwined her own hands behind his neck and was pressing herself against him. As they kissed, something soared up inside her and her stomach flipped, the cliché fireworks exploding in her head. She moaned, a desperate, desire-filled moan that came from deep within her. In that moment she forgot about everything – she forgot about the brownies in the oven, the washing up that needed to be done, the smell of warm chocolate in the air. All she could see, smell, taste, hear and feel was him, filling up her senses, making her weak at the knees.

She tasted of chocolate and cake mixture and all that other overly sweet stuff he didn't like but was heavenly all at the same time. She moaned against his lips, pressing her body against his and Gene was sure he was slowly losing grip on his self-control. Pulling her closer, Gene deepened the kiss, his tongue flickering out to trace over her bottom lip as arousal stirred deep within the pits of his stomach.

"Bols..."

She felt him backing her up against the kitchen worktop, his arousal pressing insistently against the top of her thigh as she moaned again, fisting the front of his shirt in her hand and pulling him closer. "Mm?"

One hand wandered down to rest over her arse, their lips and tongues battling eagerly for dominance, heat playing between them, their breathing heavy. "Yer taste like chocolate," he breathed, breaking off briefly before claiming her lips again, drunk on the taste of her.

Alex laughed slightly and he felt her smile against his lips. She opened her eyes just as he opened his, and they both found ignited desire and a playful suggestiveness in each other's gaze. "Well," she said, grinning playfully as their lips ghosted over each other. "If I knew you were coming I'd have baked a cake..."

Tee hee, just a bit of fun there really! Hope you enjoyed it, and chocolate brownies for every reviewer! :P

X =D