"You're drunk."

"Don't be ridiculous. Luigi's steps are icy, that's all. I only had two glasses of wine, that's nothing for either of us. I'm taking you home, I don't trust Chris and Ray with you."

"Ray's poured me inter more cabs than 'e's 'ad 'ot dinners."

"Pour you into a cab? In your condition? Dream on, Gene."

"I was shot. I've been shot before, yer know. Didn' 'urt that much."

"Says the man who spent a good three weeks in hospital. One week in a coma."

Gene winced.

"Sorry. Look, I'm taking you home, and that's the end of it. Better than some cabbie knocking you about in the rear seats, isn't it? Nice comfy Renault, not as flash as the Quattro, but better than nothing. And I turned the heater on twenty minutes ago, so it'll be warm. I owe you a trip home if nothing else."

On balance, the Renault did look distinctly tempting, Gene thought as he sized the warm interior up, blinking the snow off his eyelashes. And it meant he could spend a little longer in the company of a certain woman. Although he was reluctant to even tell himself about that.

"Go on then."

Alex simply beamed, heading over to open the door for him and ushering him into the passenger seat, her hand lingering for longer than was necessary on the small of his back as she basked in his warmth on her fingers, the rough fabric of his rugby shirt, his smell all around her. Thank you, Gene's guardian angel, whoever you are. Thank you for not taking him away from me.

Her fingers touched the dressing beneath Gene's shirt, and she winced, gently closing the door. Of course she knew it was there, knew the scar would always be there, but didn't like to dwell on it. A little part of her- well, quite a big part of her, really- blamed herself for him being shot, always running over the events leading to Operation Rose and their estrangement; it was constantly in her head, the events chasing each other round her head as she'd been sat in hospital holding his limp hand, each harsh word echoing round the ward and back to her as she'd let her tears scorch her cheeks. And even after he'd woken up, when she'd lain in bed above Luigi's and listened to CID toasting the Guv. There was no escape.

And yet he didn't blame her. Alex bent her head as she walked round to the driver's seat, not seeing Gene's bright blue eyes following her progress through the blustering snow. She'd been convinced Gene would shut her out of his life, label their relationship as a mistake and probably transfer her out, but here he was in her car, his smell and presence dominating in the warm cab as she slipped in and started the car, smiling round at him as she took the handbrake off. He managed a twitch of his lip back, resting his head back against the headrest as the Renault began to move, sliding a little on the snow beneath its wheels.

The drive was quiet, the near silence only broken occasionally by a deep breath or a sarcastic comment from Gene on Alex's cautious driving; Alex let him jibe without retaliation, simply rolling her eyes at him before turning back to the road. By the time they arrived, Gene's exhaustion had taken him over, leaving him drowsing in his seat as Alex drew in outside his small house and stopped the car, shaking his shoulder gently to rouse him from his doze.

"Gene? Gene, you're home. Let's get you to bed."

"Dun need motherin'…" he mumbled, his warm breath steaming up the passenger window, his open mouth tempting, strangely vulnerable. Alex sighed to herself. Stop thinking like that. He needs a friend, not a lover.

Who says I couldn't be both?

She shook her head at herself, easing Gene's head off the window and taking advantage of his semi-conscious state to stroke a few errant hairs back into place; Gene turned his head to press his lips to her palm, either not hearing or deliberately ignoring her sharp intake of breath.

"You goin' ter take me ter bed, Bolls? Tart…"

"Why did I ever miss you, Gene?" Alex groaned, the gentle caress her thumb gave his cheek belying her words; Gene gave a soporific smile, squeezing his eyes open to look straight into hers, the smouldering irises once again leaving Alex short of breath. What does this man do to me?

"'Cos everyone misses the Gene Genie. Now shift yer arse, it'll be cold in 'ere in a minute."

The chill was already beginning to invade the car, dispensing with the cordial atmosphere of the journey home; trying not to shiver, Alex eased out into the cold night, on his request letting Gene open his own door and head into the house after her, locking the Renault from the warmth of the hallway.

"You'd better get into bed, Gene. You look done in."

"Just 'ad a nap. There's a bottle of whisky somewhere in 'ere…"

Alex rolled her eyes, wrapping her arms round Gene from behind to pull his hands away from the drawer he was now rummaging in.

"Oi!"

"It's late, you're tired and the doctors said you had to take it easy. Now get upstairs and into bed and if you're lucky I'll bed down on the sofa and keep you company for the night."

"Yer'll do that anyway."

"Not if you don't get into bed."

"Yes, Mam."

Alex released her DCI's wrists, watching with a grin as he headed up the stairs, yawning widely. As much as she liked the version of Gene they all got in the office, there was something equally alluring about the off-duty Gene, the man behind the shell. A man she was fairly confident only she ever saw.

Ten minutes later and Alex chanced heading upstairs, peering into the room she presumed to be his; Gene had his back to her, sitting on the bed wrapped in a thick blue dressing gown, his bare feet propped up on a wooden stool underneath the window. His head was tilted slightly up, fixed on the view, his long eyelashes flickering as he blinked; he looked to be a man deep in thought, his hands limp in his lap, the soft hair at the nape of his neck damp and spiky from his shower. She stepped quietly inside, reluctant to distract him, but he turned instantly, his eyes immediately searching out hers.

"Bolls?"

"Yes, Gene."

He bent his head, his gaze leaving her eyes to travel down her body; Alex stiffened, thinking he was staring at her chest, but his eyes didn't even linger there, going straight to her stomach, staring at the flat skin beneath her batwing top. Alex frowned.

"Gene?"

When he spoke, his voice was so quiet she wondered for a second if the meds had doped him up.

"Yer sure… yer sure yer didn' get 'urt?"

"In Operation Rose? A couple of bruises, maybe. Why, Gene? What's brought this on?"

His eyes remained fixed on her stomach, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, fingers picking almost feverishly at his nails; Alex stepped forwards, reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder, rubbing his bare skin gently over the collar of the dressing gown.

"I was… when I was in 'ospital. I kept dreamin' of Operation Rose, an' that… that you got shot, in the stomach, like I was… yer would've told me, wouldn' yer? If yer'd been 'urt?"

"You know I would, Gene," Alex said gently, daring to sit down next to him, smelling Old Spice and soap and feeling the dip in the mattress from his weight. "I promise you, I didn't need treating for anything. Well, except a bit of shock."

He looked up at her once again, eyes boring into hers, and Alex caressed the nape of his neck, smiling softly.

"Bolly… will yer show me?"

"Show you?"

"That yer weren't 'urt. Please, Bolly… I need proof. I trust yer. But I need proof."

Alex's eyes remained on his, their emotion carefully concealed, and Gene held his breath: had he pushed it too far? Would she leave, shut him out, never want to see him again-

And then she stood up, and slipped her top off.

"You see, Gene?"

She half expected his gaze to find her breasts first, cursing wearing her skimpiest bra today, but he barely even seemed to realise she had breasts; his eyes immediately fixed on her stomach, roving it desperately, searching for any sign of hurt. Her skin was smooth and creamy, unmarred, gently flexing with her breathing. No wounds, no blood, no scars. Completely unharmed.

Gene desperately hoped the relief didn't show too much on his face.

"I wasn't hurt," Alex said gently, discarding her top on the floor as she sat down next to him once again, sliding her arm round his waist. "You were. And I'm sorry, Gene. I still feel like it was my fault."

Gene paused for a second to take her in- baring herself in soul and body, her hazel-green eyes honest and trusting, her warmth and scent sweeping through the air of his bedroom. God, she was really here. Really, really here. And unhurt. Completely unhurt.

Tentatively, he pressed his hand against her stomach, fingers smoothing over the skin; Alex let him, basking in his touch, his rough palm first checking and then caressing her tummy, stroking her waist as he leaned his head on her shoulder, tired of the constant jig they danced around each other, his lonely and shielded old heart daring to show the chink in its armour.

"Stay, Bolly… stay fer tonight. With me. Here."

"Of course. If that's what you want, Gene, then of course."

His eyes met hers, slightly narrowed; Alex's fingers moved up to the soft hair on the nape of his neck, stroking it softly.

"I'll very much enjoy it as well."

The distrust in Gene's bright eyes stuttered, fizzled and died, leaving Gene's gaze clear, finally open. Alex's heart began to physically ache with love for this impossible, complex, incredible man.

"Then let's bed down. You're tired."

She stripped her jeans off, leaving herself unashamedly half-naked, sitting on the bed in her bra and knickers; Gene's eyes finally took the whole of her in, and Alex curled into herself for a second, only for his lip to twitch slightly as he looked back up at her face, cast half into shadow by her soft brown curls.

"Bolls, yer know I'm in no fit state ter pose any threat ter yer dignity. Yer beautiful. Don't 'ide yerself."

The blood rushed to her cheeks, leaving her ever so slightly breathless; Gene picked her hand up, cradling it in his for a split second before quickly dropping it and stiffening, turning away from her to huddle into himself on his side of the bed.

"Bloody 'ell, I'm goin' soft. It's drinkin' all this wine. Makin' me inter a right poofter."

Alex laughed, shoving him over gently to make room for herself and lying down on the mattress, no longer self-conscious. He'd seen it all now, the naked skin, the curves and plains and nature of her body. This was a man who had saved her life on more than one occasion, the man she felt safest with; Gene Hunt, her saviour as a child and as an adult, a one-man home for the terrified. Bedding down with him felt the most natural thing in the world.

"Come on, Gene. Lie down, get warm. It'll be Christmas soon."

"Fine."

He wriggled over to the very edge of the bed, lying ramrod straight as far away from his DI as possible; Alex sighed to herself, reaching out with all four limbs and manhandling a protesting Gene into position, lying with her spooning him from behind, their bodies pressed together. Warmth mingling, skin touching. Utterly relaxed.

Alex's hand slipped over Gene's waist, stroking his stomach idly, in the dreamy stage between wakefulness and sleep; Gene wriggled slightly to accommodate more arm over his tummy, closing his eyes, praying sleep didn't come too fast. This moment was to be savoured, remembered, and he wanted to be able to recall every detail tomorrow morning, each touch and caress and breath, all the tiny details that made his sore heart begin to beat again.

Her hand touched the bandage, finding a sore spot, and he winced, gently shifting her hand away. He hated being injured, hated having to move carefully and take medication and ferry himself back and forth from the hospital for check-ups and stitches and monitoring. And then the Met wouldn't let him back on the front line until he'd passed their rehabilitation test. Ray had had to take his gun, waiting until Gene had taken his painkillers and was suitably woozy to sneak out of the front door with it. Gene was still smarting a little for that. Ray would pay when he got back to CID.

Alex's soft snores behind him told him that she had fallen asleep spooning him, her breasts crushed against his back, one slender leg in between his. Normally this situation would have definite potential, he thought grumpily, but after the meds his head was fuzzy and his downstairs disappointingly unreactive. Not to mention how sore his stomach was. No, sex would wait… if it ever happened.

He turned to smell her hair, feel her breath on his face. Alex Drake, his stubborn, argumentative, slightly bonkers, charming, intelligent, beautiful DI. In his bed, sleeping curled round him. If he only ever had her for tonight, he would still thank his lucky stars every night for the rest of his life. Although, naturally, he'd never admit to it.

There was a code he'd invented when he was younger, for telling people he loved them. It was only his mam back then, but eventually his wife, and now Alex took pride of place on the pedestal in Gene Hunt's mind. He'd never actually said it to the wife, preferring to shag her senseless whenever she asked for any affection, but he'd said it to his mam plenty of times. And she'd smiled and understood, and made him feel much better for doing so.

"I, L, Y," he whispered into Alex's hair, closing his eyes as the fateful letters escaped. There. Done. Said. Could never be retrieved.

"You say something, Gene?" Alex murmured, tugging him closer, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. Gene angled his head to face her, his gaze softening as it landed on her moonlight-bathed face, her bare beauty, everything he could want.

"I, L, Y."

He had no idea where he found the bravery to say it again, but say it he did, shifting a little closer to her as he closed his eyes, pretending to slip into sleep.

It took Alex a moment to realise, but when her breathing hitched and a whisper of delight rushed past her lips, Gene knew she understood.

"I, L, Y too, Gene," she murmured, stroking his chest, holding him as close as possible.

They lay together, finally peaceful, two hearts beating slowly as one.

Heaven in a double bed.

A/N: This is horrendously late, I know, but please please please review and make a girl very, very happy! There will be hugs and Galaxy Cookie Dough bars all round. Mm, Galaxy… *drooling over keyboard* Sorry. *picks tongue up off floor* Hope you enjoyed, and don't you dare skip off without reviewing. Yes, I'm looking at you. Yes, you. And you know it. Jazzola O.O