I'd've Baked a Cake 9/14
Title: I'd've Baked a Cake
Author: SCWLC
Disclaimer: If I owned Stephen I'd keep him dressed in nothing but a loincloth for my personal amusement. Sadly, I don't. Nor do I own anything else you might recognise.
Rating: PG, this may change in time.
Summary: Stephen and Connor meet for the first time under unusual circumstances and it forges a very important friendship. AU
Notes:
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Eventually their time in the Gambia ended and they moved back to London. Stephen discovered no lack of female friends to pass the time with, because Connor went out of his way to make himself invisible when needed, charming when useful and Stephen's friends called him the weirdest wing man ever.
All this effort was, apparently, due to a determined desire to keep Stephen occupied and away from Helen Cutter. She eventually snagged herself a doctoral candidate that was a devastatingly handsome Italian chap, and when Stephen heard her giving the other man the same lines she'd given him, he decided he was well quit of her and switched to wondering if he should tell Cutter at all.
Connor, meanwhile, thrived in his new school in London. He'd done quite well in the Gambia, but he was now at a school specifically created for gifted students and had stopped calling school a, 'soul-sucking pit of despair from which you emerge broken to the yoke of authority.'
His first day, picking up in March, he'd left looking like he was leaving for his doom and came back, dark eyes glittering with enthusiasm, practically bouncing. "There's a paleontology club that meets on Wednesdays after school and they want me to come and tell them about Gambia, and they're going to try to arrange a trip out to a dig that's going on around Colchester."
"That sounds interest . . . wait . . . I think that's being run by Carla Lowe," Stephen said, frowning. "She's the dullest human being to ever give a lecture on ecological systems."
Connor shrugged. "Still, we'll get to go, and it'll be more interesting than other things. Our computer teacher's really cool, he was showing us all sorts of programming tricks and things and he said he knows this really great algorithm I can use for my database if I want to modify the programming since I'm using a stock program right now." He was buried headfirst in the fridge a moment, digging out a snack. "And," he finished triumphantly, "I have a date on Saturday unless there's something I forgot about that we have to do. There isn't is there? Because Catherine wants to see that new film by-"
"No, there's nothing that needs doing," Stephen said, trying not to laugh. He really didn't want to accidentally quash Connor's good mood, and the kid's first date was the sort of thing that had to be handled carefully. It turned out he had nothing to worry about until he received an irate telephone call from Catherine's mother. "Is this Stephen Hart?"
"Yes, who-"
"I'm Catherine Crenshaw's mother, your son might have mentioned me?"
Stephen just barely avoided choking. "You mean Connor? I have custody, but he's my cousin, not my son."
"Oh." There was a pause as she seemed to be having to reset her mental paradigm, but then she continued on. "I just got a call from the cinema. My daughter and your . . . cousin. They were tossed out for . . ." another pause, then an exasperated sigh. "Snogging the living daylights out of each other, to be blunt."
"Oh no," Stephen said, groaning. "Where should I go? Are they still there or-"
"No," she said grimly. "I brought them both home with me. I was so furious I just . . . argh!"
He took a deep breath, then said, "Well, I'll come down right now and collect Connor, and you can tell me whether you want them to never see each other again or whether we can simply coordinate some sort of punishment."
"I think my dragging them both past what were apparently half their classmates, shouting at the top of my lungs probably did the trick for any joint problems," she told him. "They seem to have just been carried away by the moment."
"Well, I'll talk to him," Stephen said, well aware that he would have far less impact than he ought to with any lecture, because he'd done a few things himself in dark cinemas that Connor was aware of, at least peripherally. They said polite farewells and hung up. He was about to head out the door, when he paused. Turning back to the phone, he dialled, "Hey mum."
"Stephen? Well, what's wrong right now?"
He didn't even bother commenting, since she was sort of right. "Connor got himself thrown out of a cinema for snogging sufficiently indecently to make it happen," he told her. "Can I get away with making him join a sports team as punishment or do I need to ground him or something?"
"Since it's Connor," his mother said contemplatively, "I think he'll hate all the running around enough to make the lesson stick."
"Brilliant," he said cheerfully. "Then I'll go pick him up, congratulate him and tell him he's lost his free Saturdays."
"And I'll tell him this weekend all about the time you got caught naked in a car with that redheaded chit," his mother said equally cheerfully.
"You're such a loving mother," Stephen told her. "So, doting. I'll call again soon."
"Have fun dear!"
He arrived at the house and was let in by Mrs. Crenshaw, who looked him up and down, then said, "Hmm." He was led to the living room, where Connor was sat looking petrified on the sofa, pinned by Mr. Crenshaw's glare, while the man idly stroked a cricket bat and the girl in question looked mortified. "Good afternoon," he said, and received the same up and down look from the father.
The girl's eyes went wide at the sight of Stephen, and said rather loudly, "That's your cousin? Is he a model? Or an actor?"
"Hi, Stephen," Connor said, hastily trying to wave his girlfriend into silence. "You're here, great, we can go-"
"And I can put you on the line with my mum. She'll be delighted to talk to you," Stephen said, knowing that it would be a mixed blessing letting her talk to Connor, but the fear in Connor's eyes and the threat soothed the two irate parents, who clearly were delighted someone responsible would be dealing with Connor.
"Oh no," Connor said.
"We'll talk about the rest of your punishment on the way home." Stephen gave a weak, perfunctory smile to the elder Crenshaws and ushered Connor out.
Once the door was shut behind them, Connor was making a face and saying in a high-pitched voice, "Is he a model? That's exactly why I didn't want you being the one to drive us. Someone's mum is way less embarassing than my girlfriend wanting to ogle you."
"You do realise I'm going to be giving you some punishment for this," Stephen said. "You can't just get yourself thrown out of a cinema for public indecency."
"Nothing . . . bad happened," Connor said hesitantly.
"You'll be joining up with a recreational football team," Stephen told him.
"Stephen!"
"On weekends. If you're good enough, I'll probably expect you to try out for the school team." He grinned as Connor burst into vociferous protest. It was fantastic being able to punish Connor with something most boys Connor's age would think of as a privilege. It would make it sting all the worse.
When Connor turned out to be reasonably talented at it and was promoted to something more serious, Stephen arranged for him to be on the competitive team as their best goalkeeper. "I hate you," Connor told him when the team made the finals, ostensibly because of him.
"You're really brilliant," Stephen heckled from the sidelines. "I bet you could make a career of it."
"I really hate you," Connor grumbled again.
Connor's teachers found out somehow and tried to sort-of blackmail Connor with references to university application advantages of demonstrating he was well-rounded to get him onto the school team permanently. Connor had none of it in the end, as soon as Stephen let him stop playing. And anyhow, Cutter liked bringing Connor along on their trips to Paraguay, the Amazon, once to Australia even, because unlike Stephen, Connor was flattered to be asked to do the grunt analysis of things, and anyhow, as long as Cutter provided Connor with a power source, he was good enough to run statistical programmes for them, which helped in-field analysis.
Stephen was happy to have Connor along, because the threat of frogs in her clothing kept Helen Cutter at bay.
He didn't know what to say when he was woken late one night by Nick, gutted over the fact that his wife had vanished from the Forest of Dean. He did his best to be comforting, trying to help the poor sod that she'd taken on as a student when the university practically threw him at Cutter. He lasted two weeks, then fled home to Italy. Stephen suspected that Helen had either expected less of him than Cutter did, or had offered up blow jobs as rewards for good work, along with a mistaken belief that she was in love with the unfortunate man.
Luckily for Nick, a distraction arrived on Connor's birthday in the form of a phone call.
"Hello?"
"Stephen?" Connor sounded uncertain and slightly frightened. There was a growling sound and a thud from the other end of the line. "I . . . er . . . you know that thing Becker and I were looking into, for my birthday?" he asked.
"Are you at a cinema or something?" Stephen asked as another set of rather disturbing noises drifted down the line.
"No," Connor said. "We're in Brighton, right, the park where they said the monster was."
"And . . .?"
"I think I've got a pretty good distraction for Cutter here," Connor said. "Because we're in a tree, and it looks like the styracosaurus isn't going to give up on trampling us."
"The what?"
"Well, the frill's pretty impressive, and-"
"What the hell do you -- are you saying you found a fucking ceratopsian dinosaur in Brighton?"
"Yes. Could you bring guns? Maybe the tranqs?"
"If this is a prank Connor-"
"Give me the goddamn mobile!" came Becker's voice down the line. "Stephen'll be on the M23 for hours! Lieutenant Ryan should be at the recruitment centre, we can ask him to bring guns!"
Then the call was cut off. "Cutter," Stephen said as soon as the other man picked up, "You're going to want to meet me at the car. We're going to Brighton."
*************************************
The past couple years, Helen Cutter's ongoing presence notwithstanding, had been completely brilliant, Connor thought as he headed down the street to the house Becker now lived in. When he got there, Becker was standing in the door already, having an argument with a girl who looked about the same age, pale blonde hair, in a sweatshirt and jeans. "Hey Becker," he said, reshouldering the bag.
"This," Becker said, pointing at the girl, "Is your fault. Abby, go away already."
"If they're reptiles they can't have migrated like that," she was saying, "They simply wouldn't have been able to maintain it without either the ambient temperatures being higher or some sort of endothermy. And if they're reptiles, that's not possible."
"Dinosaurs?" Connor asked.
"Yes," Becker said tensely. "And if you hadn't sent me that stupid email with all those stupid technical terms I wouldn't have been in the library and Abby wouldn't be following me everywhere trying to convince me that dinosaurs aren't reptiles."
"Well," Connor said, "There's evidence they evolved into birds, which are endothermic, so the whole reptile thing could be a boondoggle." He looked at this Abby person. "So, why are you harassing Becker?"
"Because he's wrong about reptiles," she declared. "They can't migrate like people say the herbivores did, and all the books he pulled up keep having behavioural indicators from nesting sites and things that aren't reptilian."
"You like dinosaurs?" Connor asked.
"No," Abby made a face. "Why would I be interested in dead things? I'm a lizard girl."
Becker walked back out, now wearing his boots and carrying his own rucksack. "Well you can take your lizard girly self somewhere else," he declared, and started down the street without a backwards glance.
Connor hurried to catch up, well aware that Abby was following them. "What's all that about?"
"I don't know," Becker said, "But . . . she keeps looking at me. And touching me. And I think she might like me."
"Really?" Connor looked back at her. She shot him a dark look, then gave Becker a longing look. "Huh. I think you might be right." He glanced at her again. "She's smart, though. Kind of cute."
"You go out with her, then," Becker grumbled. "I like my girls not telling me off for my lack of knowledge of lizards." Then he shifted his rucksack, and said, "So, why are we doing this instead of something fun?"
"Because I want to check out the monster they say is in the park," Connor said for the hundredth time. "It looks interesting. Anyhow, don't you want to know?"
"Connor," Becker said, "It's stupid. The tabloid is stupid, so looking for the tabloid's monster is stupid. There's no monster. Also, if there really is a monster, we have no guns, no backup and we would get eaten. Or trampled."
"So, do you think it's real or not?" Connor asked. He just wanted to know. The photos in the tabloid had looked . . . real to him. Blurry, but the sort of blurry that came from motion, not from someone fudging the evidence.
Becker sighed. "Does it matter? It's your birthday, so we're going to look for your stupid monster."
They started down the street, mostly deserted that time of year and day, Abby following behind them the whole way. "So, you said you'd found someone to talk to about joining the armed forces, didn't you?" Connor asked. "I mean, I know it was a while back, but we haven't talked face to face for a while. How's it going with . . . who was it? Lieutenant something?"
"Ryan, Tom Ryan," Becker said, now much more cheerful. "He lets me volunteer around the recruitment office and talks to me about stuff. He's there right now because he apparently had some bad run of things in the Gulf War, so it's sort of a desk job. He's pretty cool, though."
"Nice," Connor said. "I'm glad. Not that Stephen minded answering your questions, but he's not military, after all."
"Who's Stephen?" Abby piped up from behind them.
Becker sighed voluminously. "He's my legal guardian," Connor said, "And he knows lots of stuff about guns and fitness, so Becker used to ask him about that."
"Don't talk to her," Becker hissed. "You'll just encourage her."
The three of them made their way to the park, Becker frostily ignoring Abby, who doggedly continued to chase after his attention, and Connor watching the whole thing, amused, and trading dinosaur trivia for general reptilian. When they got there, nothing seemed out of place, and Becker rolled his eyes in exasperation as he trailed after Connor. "I still can't believe you came out to Brighton for your birthday," Becker said.
"Stephen and Cutter didn't want to come," Connor explained.
"That's because this is stupid," Becker said again.
"He's right, you know," Abby said. "What are you expecting to find? A lost komodo dragon?"
"Something like that," Connor said. Then they reached the trees. The earth was all churned up and if Stephen's lessons about tracking were right, something had wandered off from there. "This way."
"By the way," Becker asked, "Anyone found any trace of Creepy Cutter?"
"Helen? No," Connor said. "Cutter's well shut of her, of course, but he never knew she was a complete tart."
"That student of hers?" Becker asked.
"Yeah," Connor said. "She pretty much chose him because he's pretty."
"Nice," Becker said. "What do you bet she found some bloke even prettier and ran off?"
"I wouldn't take that bet," Connor said.
"Becker . . ." Abby said, sounding apprehensive. They turned to look at her, then at where she was looking, petrified.
He could not believe his eyes. "A styracosaurus," Connor breathed. "That's a pretty amazing model-" He was interrupted by the thing moving, then literally ripping up half the bush in front of it. No model would do that. Then it spotted them, let out a sort of bellowing low, like a really angry cow, and charged. They fled.
It kept on them, and Connor glanced up, seeing a sturdy-looking oak tree with some low-hanging branches. He turned for it, the others following behind, and they all scrambled up out of reach, just barely in time for the dinosaur to slam into the trunk. It shuddered, but it held. Glaring, it backed up and charged again, clearly pretty pissed off at them for some reason.
"I'm calling Stephen," Connor declared, tugging out his mobile. He dialled, then waited anxiously for Stephen to answer. He was partway through convincing Stephen that, yes, they were under attack from a dinosaur, when Becker made another lunge at him and got the phone in his hands, hanging up unceremoniously and calling a different number. "Is Lieutenant Ryan there?"
"Becker!"
"Shh. Yes, I need to speak with him, it's important."
"Oh, God," Abby moaned. "I bet we were near its nest or something."
"Tom? Thank God. Look. This is going to sound crazy, but I really really need you to bring something to kill a really big animal. Connor's gone and dropped us into a science fiction film and I'd appreciate it if you'd rescue us." Becker looked offended as the pause went on. "This isn't a practical joke-"
The whole tree shuddered again at another ram from the enormous animal. Connor started taking pictures, because if he died here, he wanted Stephen to know what killed him. "Really?" Abby asked, looking incredulous.
"What else can we do?" Connor asked her. "Might as well take pictures."
"We need an assault rifle!" Becker was saying into the mobile. "Thank you." He hung up. "Lieutenant Ryan's on his way."
Abby shrieked as another assault on the tree jarred her loose and she dangled from the branches, clinging, but clearly slipping. "Abby!" Together they pulled her up, but it was slow going, since every time they got a decent grip there'd be another juddering thud and Abby would slip a few inches again.
They'd just got her back into the tree and resituated somewhere more stable when a shout came from outside their little copse. "Becker!"
"Over here!" Becker shouted. A single man in military fatigues appeared and stared at the dinosaur. The dinosaur whipped around and took great exception to his presence, charging him down. He went straight up a tree. "Why don't you have a gun!" Becker shouted at him as the styracosaur homed in on its new target.
"I do," the lieutenant called back, holding up what looked like a rather small pistol.
Becker looked deeply affronted. "I said assault rifle!" he nearly howled. "Now we'll be here all day until Stephen gets here!"
"You can't kill it!" Abby objected at once.
"It's trying to kill us," Becker replied. "I'd rather it than us!"
It did take hours. Ryan shot it once, which just pissed it off, making it stick around longer. It took so long, in fact, that it lost interest eventually and wandered off. Twenty minutes later, just as Connor and Becker were debating the pros and cons of getting down, Stephen and Cutter appeared. "Connor?"
"Did you bring guns and stuff?" Connor asked. "Because Ryan tried his pistol on it, and that just made it angry."
"Maybe it was in rut," Abby said contemplatively.
Cutter and Stephen were looking at the churned up earth and the damaged trees. "Well, whatever you saw-"
"It was a fucking dinosaur," Becker said. "I did not agree to chase after dinosaurs."
"You came along," Connor pointed out as they tentatively slid to the ground.
Becker gave him a disgusted look. "That's because I thought it was a hoax and you were being stupid," he said.
Stephen was ignoring the byplay as he followed the animal's tracks as they meandered through the trees. "Bloody hell," he said after a few minutes. Cutter shoved past the kids to the front, the two men just in time to see the dinosaur tramp up to some big glowy thing and go through.
"What is that?" Cutter asked.
Pulling out a pen and pad, Connor was about to start taking some notes when the pen went flying from his hand. "What the-"
Lieutenant Ryan frowned and pulled out what looked like car keys, holding tightly to them as they strained to escape his fingers. "It's attracting metal," he said slowly. "It's magnetic, whatever it is."
Cutter frowned, looking at the results of the grumpy ceratopsian, the glowing thing, whatever it was, and Ryan's keys straining in his hand. Then he turned and walked into the . . . thing. "Cutter!" Stephen shouted, racing up to it but stopping short looking indecisive.
The professor came walking back out looking dazed. "It's the Cretaceous," he said. "It's a Cretaceous environment on the other side. There's a herd of styracosaurs, looks like mating season."
"You have got to be kidding me," Ryan said flatly. "It's a magic portal in time?"
A thought was teasing at Connor, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Stephen was looking flummoxed. "What do we do? Tell people? Warn them? I mean, what caused this?"
"We've got to get samples," Cutter said, ignoring Stephen. "I need the kit from the car." He was racing off to where, presumably, he and Stephen had parked. Suddenly, the thing, whatever it was, began to bulge and contract. It rippled, and a tyrannosaurid was suddenly poking its head through.
"Cutter!" Stephen shouted as they all backed away quickly. "Cutter, guns! Now!"
"Fucking hell," Ryan said, eyes wide.
Cutter arrived bearing not nearly enough weaponry, and then the thing bulged one last time, then abruptly closed, neatly beheading the predator. "Bloody hell," Cutter said, staring at the huge head and teeth.
"Seconded," Connor heard himself say weakly.
Part 8
Part 10
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