Primeval - "Revisions on Previous Calculations" - Connor/Lester
Title: Revisions on Previous Calculations
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Connor/Lester
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2243
Summary: In which pizza helps Lester make up his mind.
Notes: You might be able to guess which of the WIPs this is.
Disclaimer: Primeval characters and universe humbly borrowed for nefarious fannish purposes only.
This particular Friday had been a long, gruelling affair that consisted of an anomaly alert, two Pteranodons, one call from the minister, and an estimated £40,000 in property damage. The first sign the day was looking up was when Connor poked his head cautiously around Lester's office door to inform him he would be getting back to the flat late.
Lester turned a page on the expense report he was currently engrossed in. His eyebrows rose of their own accord when he reached a sub-heading titled 'Vehicular Repairs (Hoplitosaurus Related).'
"Meeting a few old uni friends at the pub," Connor elaborated when Lester didn't ask. "So I'll probably be-"
"Yes, Connor, that's fine." The list continued on the next page, and even Lester would admit that his answer had been undeservedly brusque. "Just don't make a racket when you get home."
That last word snapped Lester's concentration like a flat note, and seemed to hang discordant in the air. He looked up from his desk to determine why, but Connor had already disappeared from sight. Only after clearing his throat and shuffling the report was Lester able to push the incongruous thought from his mind.
*
Not even the promise of a low-key, relaxing weekend could allow Lester to leave the office until well after seven o'clock. The state of his in-tray simply forbade it. He had insisted Lorraine leave for home at her normal hour, and she had quickly and graciously accepted. Although the parting glare she had sent him when she realized his intention to work late had certainly been impressive.
The nerve of the woman, he thought, almost fondly.
But the hour had finally arrived when it would be utterly indecent to remain in the office any longer. He was in the midst of packing the most pressing files in his briefcase when he paused, a folder in each hand as if he could weigh their urgency. The last time Lester had brought work home for the weekend Connor had given him a glare that suggested he and Lorraine were colluding against him. Lester retorted by glaring back, and Connor had visibly jumped, eyes wide as if surprised he had been seen.
Lester tossed both of the files back onto his desk. What with the diictodons, Connor, and whatever science fiction marathon he had planned for this weekend, it was unlikely Lester would be able to get any work done anyway.
He felt a strange coil of defeat uncurl in his stomach when he clicked the nearly-empty case shut. He put it down to hunger.
*
The ARC was nearly deserted, and the lights were dimmed in the corridors. He waited next to the lift, tapping one leather-clad foot as he waited for the doors to open. He glanced down both ends of the corridor. This was where he usually met Connor, very discreetly of course, to give him a lift back to the flat. It was a full minute before he remembered that Connor had left hours ago. The doors slid open and Lester stalked into the lift, jabbing the button for the parking level sharply.
It was remarkable how quickly one fell into new habits, he thought with a scowl.
*
The drive back to the flat was uneventful, although the amount of traffic on the roads at this hour was surprising. Lester listened to a modestly enjoyable piano concerto on Radio 3 until the program ended and someone began nattering on about Mozart's lost piano and he switched the radio off. He wouldn't abide by incessant chatter in his car. Well, except for Connor. And that was only because Connor didn't have a volume control (Lord, if only), Lester reasoned.
He turned the radio back on and gritted his teeth through the rest of the announcer's hushed commentary.
*
By the time Lester arrived at the flat work week exhaustion had fully set in and even his bare front door at the end of the hall felt welcoming. He let himself in quickly and was swallowed by the darkness of the flat. He toed off his shoes and pushed them to the side (unnecessary; Connor's weren't there to take up a ridiculously disproportionate amount of space) and padded into the kitchen. He left the briefcase on the table there, and finally flicked on a light.
He resisted the urge to check on Sid and Nancy in the quiet of the flat; they were most likely sleeping. They needed to save up their energy for three o'clock in the morning, when they would wake, snuffling loudly and no doubt looking adorably innocent while doing so.
Instead Lester wandered into the sitting room to gaze out the picture window. He slipped out of his jacket and loosened his tie, folding the former over the back of the sofa.
The streets below burned in the harsh orange glow of the street lamps, uninspiring. Lester was hit by the sudden and unexpected thought that the empty streets and quiet flat were rather dull.
He tugged the knot of his tie even further loose and turned away from the window quickly.
"Next I'll be complaining that it's too calm," he muttered.
He was halfway back to the kitchen, mind focused decidedly on supper, when he heard a click, a swoosh, a bang and a muffled 'oomph' from the front hall. He rounded the corner to see Connor, leaning back against the door and balancing on one foot while the other flailed around in an attempt to rid itself of its shoe. He was also holding a large, square, flat box that smelled very promising to Lester's empty stomach.
The shoe flew off and hit the wall, landing on the floor with a thud next to Lester's own pair. Connor looked up, eyes wide, and spotted Lester at the other end of the hall immediately.
"Sorry!" he called in a strangled half-whisper. "Sorry!"
Lester switched on the hall light and watched Connor blink owlishly while he kicked off his other shoe. The light also revealed the logo on the box, and Lester's stomach threatened a traitorous growl at the sight of the crude image of a pizza.
The acerbic comment on the tip of Lester's tongue failed to materialize. Connor's sudden entrance had banished his previous thoughts and the arrival of food had certainly provided its own distraction. He watched as Connor left his shoes to their haphazard fate and marched the pizza toward the kitchen.
Lester followed warily, and it took a moment for him to realize why Connor's appearance was even more unexpected than usual.
"Aren't you rather early for a pub night?" he asked.
Connor looked slightly sheepish. "Yeah, well. About that. We did meet up, had a few drinks, but it got a bit awkward when I tried to explain why none of them had heard from me in months. I tried saying I was abroad, but I think I overdid it a bit. No one seemed to believe me when I said I was with the government."
Lester's only response was a carefully raised eyebrow.
"So I got a pizza," Connor summarized. He held the box out helpfully.
"I can see that."
Connor waggled the box a little. "Would you like some?"
Lester scanned his face and settled on 'cautiously eager,' only one of Connor's many eager expressions. It was one he seemed to use around Lester quite often these past few weeks.
Connor took a tiny step forward and Lester half expected him to open the lid and try to waft the highly enticing smell in Lester's direction.
Lester spared a half-hearted glance at the fridge, where the ingredients for baked salmon with fresh dill and egg sauce sat waiting. Just as he would be, for the hour it would take to prepare the meal.
He pushed the half-hearted thought of imagine the calories from his mind before it had even fully formed.
"I would be delighted," he finally managed.
Connor grinned.
*
Lester outright demanded they eat nowhere near the white sofa in the sitting room, so Connor happily settled at the kitchen table. He threw a quick glare at Lester's briefcase when he moved it to the floor, which Lester caught when he looked up.
"Empty," he confirmed. "I've decided on an actual weekend."
He wasn't sure what to make of the look of mingled surprise and delight that flashed across Connor's face, and decided to instead turn and reach down two plates from the cupboard.
"You will forgo the cutlery, I assume?"
Connor nodded and busied himself laying out two large slices on each plate. Lester collected only one knife and fork, and as an afterthought, grabbed the roll of kitchen towels from the counter before sitting down across from Connor. He placed the roll of kitchen towels rather closer to Connor's side of the table.
Connor pushed one of the plates toward Lester and immediately began to dig into his own.
It was good pizza, Lester had to admit. A thick crust, rich sauce, a few odd toppings that Lester didn't want to name and far more cheese than could ever be considered healthy in a single serving. The kind of thing he hadn't indulged in for a long time.
And Connor seemed to be enjoying himself.
The usual small talk he attempted almost every time they were in the same room was muted by the only means Lester had so far discovered: food. It wouldn't last long, however. Connor's learning curves were sharp but short. Soon he would adjust to eating (inhaling, more like) and talking at the same time, and then Lester would be inundated with chatter.
Lester glanced up. Connor was fighting with an ever-lengthening string of cheese that desperately stretched a full foot between Connor's lips and the half-finished slice he held in his hand.
Upon reflection (and he would remember this moment quite clearly in the future), Lester could pinpoint no one particular source for his next impulse. The string of cheese broke and Connor slurped up the trailing end and looked across to Lester, with suddenly un-crossed eyes and a ridiculously self-satisfied grin. And Lester leaned across the table and kissed him.
Quick, chaste, slightly slippery due to the grease from the pizza. As if Impulsive Lester had spoken up, as had been his frequent habit these past few weeks, and decided this was a good idea, and as good a time as any. And like all those other decisions he had recently made, offering Connor the use of his spare room, rides to the office, shared meals and shared conversation, Reserved Lester had quietly (and uncharacteristically) complied. Assenting to what ultimately amounted to a gradual integration of their lives, to the point where Lester could admit, perhaps only now that they had reached the tipping point, that returning to the forced solitude of his previous existence would be unbearable.
Or perhaps he was over-thinking the situation.
Lester leaned back, and had to be thankful for that trademark stoic temperament and the careful mask of caution and defiance he managed to construct. Even his impulsive side, so good now at getting him into these predicaments, had no idea what to do or expect next.
So now it was down to Connor, whose record of performing under pressure extended only so far as dinosaurs. Connor, who had left the pub early and shown up on Lester's doorstep with a pizza he could not possibly be able to finish on his own.
Lester had to wonder sometimes, but he had never gone so far as to hope.
Connor tried to clear his throat, but seemed to be having trouble coordinating all the appropriate muscles in the correct order. One would have expected speech was out of the question as his brain chugged ahead of his tongue, but he eventually managed to break the silence.
"So... so you like the pizza then?" he asked, voice hesitant and at least an octave higher than normal.
Trust Connor to ask a question that could be literal, figurative, metaphorical and, in certain circles, probably even relative.
But Lester could mince words with the best of them.
"Yes, Connor," he said, slowing and carefully, and without a whiff of subtlety. "I like the pizza."
"Good," Connor declared after a full ten seconds of silence during which Lester knew he had been trying to rein in his many and wildly careening thoughts. "Because not everyone likes shrimp and capers on their pizza and I totally didn't think of that until after I'd ordered and-"
Lester leaned forward again to cut him off. This kiss was infinitely better, given that Connor no longer had his mouth full and Lester had realized in the space of a minute that this, this, was precisely what he wanted and was now able to put his full and considerable effort into proving it. He had run the figures and computed the facts, and apparently they summed to this, to them. Previous calculations be damned.
When they pulled apart Connor appeared thoroughly convinced, his eyes warm and bright and a hand curled around Lester's bicep, preventing him from moving beyond Connor's reach.
"Wow," Connor said.
Lester smiled, allowed him the less than eloquent synopsis.
Of course, Lester was never one to leave a job half-done, and he carded his fingers further into Connor's hair before their lips met again. Lester intended to make his position on the matter very clear.
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Connor/Lester
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2243
Summary: In which pizza helps Lester make up his mind.
Notes: You might be able to guess which of the WIPs this is.
Disclaimer: Primeval characters and universe humbly borrowed for nefarious fannish purposes only.
This particular Friday had been a long, gruelling affair that consisted of an anomaly alert, two Pteranodons, one call from the minister, and an estimated £40,000 in property damage. The first sign the day was looking up was when Connor poked his head cautiously around Lester's office door to inform him he would be getting back to the flat late.
Lester turned a page on the expense report he was currently engrossed in. His eyebrows rose of their own accord when he reached a sub-heading titled 'Vehicular Repairs (Hoplitosaurus Related).'
"Meeting a few old uni friends at the pub," Connor elaborated when Lester didn't ask. "So I'll probably be-"
"Yes, Connor, that's fine." The list continued on the next page, and even Lester would admit that his answer had been undeservedly brusque. "Just don't make a racket when you get home."
That last word snapped Lester's concentration like a flat note, and seemed to hang discordant in the air. He looked up from his desk to determine why, but Connor had already disappeared from sight. Only after clearing his throat and shuffling the report was Lester able to push the incongruous thought from his mind.
*
Not even the promise of a low-key, relaxing weekend could allow Lester to leave the office until well after seven o'clock. The state of his in-tray simply forbade it. He had insisted Lorraine leave for home at her normal hour, and she had quickly and graciously accepted. Although the parting glare she had sent him when she realized his intention to work late had certainly been impressive.
The nerve of the woman, he thought, almost fondly.
But the hour had finally arrived when it would be utterly indecent to remain in the office any longer. He was in the midst of packing the most pressing files in his briefcase when he paused, a folder in each hand as if he could weigh their urgency. The last time Lester had brought work home for the weekend Connor had given him a glare that suggested he and Lorraine were colluding against him. Lester retorted by glaring back, and Connor had visibly jumped, eyes wide as if surprised he had been seen.
Lester tossed both of the files back onto his desk. What with the diictodons, Connor, and whatever science fiction marathon he had planned for this weekend, it was unlikely Lester would be able to get any work done anyway.
He felt a strange coil of defeat uncurl in his stomach when he clicked the nearly-empty case shut. He put it down to hunger.
*
The ARC was nearly deserted, and the lights were dimmed in the corridors. He waited next to the lift, tapping one leather-clad foot as he waited for the doors to open. He glanced down both ends of the corridor. This was where he usually met Connor, very discreetly of course, to give him a lift back to the flat. It was a full minute before he remembered that Connor had left hours ago. The doors slid open and Lester stalked into the lift, jabbing the button for the parking level sharply.
It was remarkable how quickly one fell into new habits, he thought with a scowl.
*
The drive back to the flat was uneventful, although the amount of traffic on the roads at this hour was surprising. Lester listened to a modestly enjoyable piano concerto on Radio 3 until the program ended and someone began nattering on about Mozart's lost piano and he switched the radio off. He wouldn't abide by incessant chatter in his car. Well, except for Connor. And that was only because Connor didn't have a volume control (Lord, if only), Lester reasoned.
He turned the radio back on and gritted his teeth through the rest of the announcer's hushed commentary.
*
By the time Lester arrived at the flat work week exhaustion had fully set in and even his bare front door at the end of the hall felt welcoming. He let himself in quickly and was swallowed by the darkness of the flat. He toed off his shoes and pushed them to the side (unnecessary; Connor's weren't there to take up a ridiculously disproportionate amount of space) and padded into the kitchen. He left the briefcase on the table there, and finally flicked on a light.
He resisted the urge to check on Sid and Nancy in the quiet of the flat; they were most likely sleeping. They needed to save up their energy for three o'clock in the morning, when they would wake, snuffling loudly and no doubt looking adorably innocent while doing so.
Instead Lester wandered into the sitting room to gaze out the picture window. He slipped out of his jacket and loosened his tie, folding the former over the back of the sofa.
The streets below burned in the harsh orange glow of the street lamps, uninspiring. Lester was hit by the sudden and unexpected thought that the empty streets and quiet flat were rather dull.
He tugged the knot of his tie even further loose and turned away from the window quickly.
"Next I'll be complaining that it's too calm," he muttered.
He was halfway back to the kitchen, mind focused decidedly on supper, when he heard a click, a swoosh, a bang and a muffled 'oomph' from the front hall. He rounded the corner to see Connor, leaning back against the door and balancing on one foot while the other flailed around in an attempt to rid itself of its shoe. He was also holding a large, square, flat box that smelled very promising to Lester's empty stomach.
The shoe flew off and hit the wall, landing on the floor with a thud next to Lester's own pair. Connor looked up, eyes wide, and spotted Lester at the other end of the hall immediately.
"Sorry!" he called in a strangled half-whisper. "Sorry!"
Lester switched on the hall light and watched Connor blink owlishly while he kicked off his other shoe. The light also revealed the logo on the box, and Lester's stomach threatened a traitorous growl at the sight of the crude image of a pizza.
The acerbic comment on the tip of Lester's tongue failed to materialize. Connor's sudden entrance had banished his previous thoughts and the arrival of food had certainly provided its own distraction. He watched as Connor left his shoes to their haphazard fate and marched the pizza toward the kitchen.
Lester followed warily, and it took a moment for him to realize why Connor's appearance was even more unexpected than usual.
"Aren't you rather early for a pub night?" he asked.
Connor looked slightly sheepish. "Yeah, well. About that. We did meet up, had a few drinks, but it got a bit awkward when I tried to explain why none of them had heard from me in months. I tried saying I was abroad, but I think I overdid it a bit. No one seemed to believe me when I said I was with the government."
Lester's only response was a carefully raised eyebrow.
"So I got a pizza," Connor summarized. He held the box out helpfully.
"I can see that."
Connor waggled the box a little. "Would you like some?"
Lester scanned his face and settled on 'cautiously eager,' only one of Connor's many eager expressions. It was one he seemed to use around Lester quite often these past few weeks.
Connor took a tiny step forward and Lester half expected him to open the lid and try to waft the highly enticing smell in Lester's direction.
Lester spared a half-hearted glance at the fridge, where the ingredients for baked salmon with fresh dill and egg sauce sat waiting. Just as he would be, for the hour it would take to prepare the meal.
He pushed the half-hearted thought of imagine the calories from his mind before it had even fully formed.
"I would be delighted," he finally managed.
Connor grinned.
*
Lester outright demanded they eat nowhere near the white sofa in the sitting room, so Connor happily settled at the kitchen table. He threw a quick glare at Lester's briefcase when he moved it to the floor, which Lester caught when he looked up.
"Empty," he confirmed. "I've decided on an actual weekend."
He wasn't sure what to make of the look of mingled surprise and delight that flashed across Connor's face, and decided to instead turn and reach down two plates from the cupboard.
"You will forgo the cutlery, I assume?"
Connor nodded and busied himself laying out two large slices on each plate. Lester collected only one knife and fork, and as an afterthought, grabbed the roll of kitchen towels from the counter before sitting down across from Connor. He placed the roll of kitchen towels rather closer to Connor's side of the table.
Connor pushed one of the plates toward Lester and immediately began to dig into his own.
It was good pizza, Lester had to admit. A thick crust, rich sauce, a few odd toppings that Lester didn't want to name and far more cheese than could ever be considered healthy in a single serving. The kind of thing he hadn't indulged in for a long time.
And Connor seemed to be enjoying himself.
The usual small talk he attempted almost every time they were in the same room was muted by the only means Lester had so far discovered: food. It wouldn't last long, however. Connor's learning curves were sharp but short. Soon he would adjust to eating (inhaling, more like) and talking at the same time, and then Lester would be inundated with chatter.
Lester glanced up. Connor was fighting with an ever-lengthening string of cheese that desperately stretched a full foot between Connor's lips and the half-finished slice he held in his hand.
Upon reflection (and he would remember this moment quite clearly in the future), Lester could pinpoint no one particular source for his next impulse. The string of cheese broke and Connor slurped up the trailing end and looked across to Lester, with suddenly un-crossed eyes and a ridiculously self-satisfied grin. And Lester leaned across the table and kissed him.
Quick, chaste, slightly slippery due to the grease from the pizza. As if Impulsive Lester had spoken up, as had been his frequent habit these past few weeks, and decided this was a good idea, and as good a time as any. And like all those other decisions he had recently made, offering Connor the use of his spare room, rides to the office, shared meals and shared conversation, Reserved Lester had quietly (and uncharacteristically) complied. Assenting to what ultimately amounted to a gradual integration of their lives, to the point where Lester could admit, perhaps only now that they had reached the tipping point, that returning to the forced solitude of his previous existence would be unbearable.
Or perhaps he was over-thinking the situation.
Lester leaned back, and had to be thankful for that trademark stoic temperament and the careful mask of caution and defiance he managed to construct. Even his impulsive side, so good now at getting him into these predicaments, had no idea what to do or expect next.
So now it was down to Connor, whose record of performing under pressure extended only so far as dinosaurs. Connor, who had left the pub early and shown up on Lester's doorstep with a pizza he could not possibly be able to finish on his own.
Lester had to wonder sometimes, but he had never gone so far as to hope.
Connor tried to clear his throat, but seemed to be having trouble coordinating all the appropriate muscles in the correct order. One would have expected speech was out of the question as his brain chugged ahead of his tongue, but he eventually managed to break the silence.
"So... so you like the pizza then?" he asked, voice hesitant and at least an octave higher than normal.
Trust Connor to ask a question that could be literal, figurative, metaphorical and, in certain circles, probably even relative.
But Lester could mince words with the best of them.
"Yes, Connor," he said, slowing and carefully, and without a whiff of subtlety. "I like the pizza."
"Good," Connor declared after a full ten seconds of silence during which Lester knew he had been trying to rein in his many and wildly careening thoughts. "Because not everyone likes shrimp and capers on their pizza and I totally didn't think of that until after I'd ordered and-"
Lester leaned forward again to cut him off. This kiss was infinitely better, given that Connor no longer had his mouth full and Lester had realized in the space of a minute that this, this, was precisely what he wanted and was now able to put his full and considerable effort into proving it. He had run the figures and computed the facts, and apparently they summed to this, to them. Previous calculations be damned.
When they pulled apart Connor appeared thoroughly convinced, his eyes warm and bright and a hand curled around Lester's bicep, preventing him from moving beyond Connor's reach.
"Wow," Connor said.
Lester smiled, allowed him the less than eloquent synopsis.
Of course, Lester was never one to leave a job half-done, and he carded his fingers further into Connor's hair before their lips met again. Lester intended to make his position on the matter very clear.