Hi. This is just a short drabble-type piece that I thought of earlier, and wanted to write up. I hope you enjoy it, and your feedback would be much appreciated at the end!

X =D

Disclaimer – I don't own Ashes to Ashes.

Don't Tempt Me

The atmosphere in Luigi's is warm and welcoming, with the soft tones of Italian music drifting from the record player in the corner. The smell of wine, whisky and smoke fills the air and as Alex leans back in her chair, she closes her eyes for a moment and just relaxes, inhaling deeply.

Bringing his drink to his lips, Gene watches her over the rim of his beer glass, eyes roaming appreciatively over her face. He loves moments like these – moments where he can just watch her, where he can just look at her and enjoy the view, without her glaring at him or launching into a lecture on respect and women's rights. With a strange sense of familiarity, he takes in the blue and grey eye-shadow that is dusted over her eyelids, framing her eyes as his gaze follows the curve of her long eyelashes against her cheek. A light blush has settled across her cheekbones, a result of the warmth in Luigi's and the two glasses of wine she has already drank. His drink is still held in front of him, and Gene only just realises that he has frozen it there whilst he stops to stare at her, eyes looking hungrily at the way the soft lighting plays on her moist lips, inviting him towards what he knows he can never have. Looking at her, leant back, relaxed and comfortable in his presence as her glossy curls frame her face, Gene is sure he has never seen anyone or anything so beautiful in all his life.

And then, the moment is ruined, broken as she snaps her eyes open and meets his gaze. "You do know it's rude to stare, don't you, Gene?" she snaps, though he notices the usual frustration and anger in her voice is gone.

"Bloody 'ell, yer a flamin' psychic, you, Bols, let alone a psychiatrist," he mutters, finally taking a mouthful of beer before setting down his glass again. His eyes never leave hers.

"Psychologist," she hisses, but again, there's no malice, no anger.

His face settles into something halfway between a smirk and a smile as he looks at her, and he's surprised when she smiles back at him, her eyes seeming to sparkle as she meets his gaze. "Do you want to come upstairs?" she asks suddenly, shifting in her seat to move closer to him, leaning towards his frame.

For a moment, he catches the sweet, alluring scent of her perfume and in that moment, Gene is sure he can almost taste what it would be like to kiss her, she is that close. He swears he can almost feel her hair in between his fingers, can almost sense the goose bumps that would rise on her skin, should he ghost his fingertips over her bare shoulder. But he doesn't. Instead he lifts his gaze to hers again, tongue peeking out to wet his lips slightly before he replies in a low murmur, "And then what, Bols?"

She bites her lip and smiles, and Gene desperately longs to soothe the slight dent in her bottom lip away with his tongue. Something is stirring in the pit of his stomach, and he knows it is desire. Desire and longing for her – for everything she is, for everything she is offering him in that one, golden moment. "We could have a few more drinks, watch a movie..." Her smile widens, and her voice takes on a suggestive edge, lust hidden deep with her eyes. "Go to bed...?"

For a long time, there is silence, in which Gene runs through a thousand different ways he could accept. His gaze rakes over her again, and her beauty stuns him into yet more silence. She is too precious, too perfect, too pure for him...He can hardly believe that the inviting words came from her lips, he can't take it all in. She wants him. And he wants her. It would be so easy to say yes, to take her hand and lead her upstairs, to press his lips to hers. But she's too precious, too perfect, too pure to be ruined by him.

And so, slowly, he stands up, leaving his drink abandoned by the table as he picks up his coat, a heavy feeling sinking into his stomach as he once again looks at what he knows he can never have. And then, as she looks up at him with a confused, hurt expression on her face, it's all he can do to not pick her up, and carry her upstairs himself. But he doesn't.

With a bittersweet smile on his face, Gene leans down, his lips lingering just millimetres from her ear as the floral scent of her shampoo drifts its way into his sinuses, filling his head. And then, heartbreakingly, he whispers, "Don't tempt me, Alex...don't tempt me."

He leaves, and Alex is left at the table, drinking alone, again. Her eyes follow him out and she sighs, slumping forwards. Because at the end of the day, she knows that no matter what she offers him, no matter what she says, he is never going to believe that she means it. He is never going to accept that maybe, just maybe, she needs him. And he is never, ever going to realise that she is not too precious, or too perfect, or too pure for him. Because he will always think that, because she's Alex Drake, his Bolly... It's the most heartbreaking case of the Halo Effect she has ever seen.

Just a short piece of Galex that popped into my head. I hope it was okay, thanks for reading, and please review!

P.S - The Halo Effect is a psychological theory about how people's impressions of others based on their appearance can influence their perceptions of them - it's all on Wikipedia if you want to know more. :) I don't study psychology as I'm too young at the moment, but I read the occasional thing, as it's a subject I find fascinating, and will probably take at A level when the time comes. :P

X =D