crack_van | B-Sides by Argyle (PG)

Fandom: LIFE ON MARS
Pairing: Gen
Length: 1270
Author on LJ:

argyleheir
Author Website: Fic Listed in the Lifein1973 Memories
Why this must be read: Because it’s Litton fic! Litton, wonderfully slimy bastard that he is, is woefully underused in fic. The voice here feels dead-on, and he’s so terribly pathetic that you have to feel sorry for him. Gene is great in this as well – their snarky Christmas truce works because Gene’s in the same boat as Litton: drinking away a lousy, lonely holiday.

"You can't chuck me," Litton called back. Stomped a foot. Took a long, deep breath and pushed a stray lock of hair back from his temple. "D'you hear? I live here."

"You haven't a prayer! Out at all hours, then rumbling inside like a bloody elephant. Stinking of perfume and sick—" here Litton's carefully restored pre-war vanity chest came flying down (so swiftly, and who would've guessed) and crashed on the pavement, followed by a satchel of police records and half-finished Gazette word jumbles and – what was it? – ah, another blazer "—always pissed. Just like your dad."

On the slick cobbles, Old Spice merged with Blue Stratos and Paco Rabanne. The sheer horror. The nerve. He'd not stand for this. He was a police officer. A DCI, for Christ's sake. He made the rules, he made his own decisions, he was not subject to the whim of some henpecking hag with curlers strung so tight as to likely catch radio waves from Leeds. Hell, she could probably hear straight to Red Square. Soyuz nerushimy respublik svobodnykh...

The window slammed shut.

Litton sucked in a breath. "Mum!"

B-Sides