Fic: Questions - Connor, Lester, G
Title: Questions
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Category: Gen
Spoilers: Hmm... technically, yeah, for up to S3.E6
Author's Notes: I did weird things with the tense in this, so if you spot anything off on that, it would be appreciated muchly. And, as always, Brit-picking and other nit-picking is welcome!
Summary: Connor wonders, sometimes.
Connor is always surprised that Lester hasn't kicked him out yet. It's a sort of perpetual state for him: wondering why he isn't on the step with his bags beside him; wondering just what it is that will drive Lester over the edge.
Of course, neither of them expects this to be a permanent thing, and sometimes Connor thinks that this might be why he hasn't been kicked out yet. He can picture Lester muttering to himself, head in hands, telling himself that it’s only temporary. Especially after he's done something annoying, or bothersome, or otherwise disruptive of the man's smooth routine.
Connor's never met anyone who could so perfectly operate 'on a routine'. It’s a little eerie at times, really. Even the most punctual, perfectionist people Connor's met in his lifetime - and he's met plenty - don't match James Lester for pure, smooth routine. He figures Lester could probably go through most of his day on auto-pilot if it weren't for outside influences. Mornings, for one, are always completed on auto-pilot.
He tried to interrupt the Morning Routine once. Sid and Nancy were ignoring their usual breakfast, and nothing he did would get them to eat. Connor remembers it quite clearly. It was 6:47 AM. Lester had started brewing his first coffee exactly two minutes ago. When Connor skidded into the kitchen, Lester was sat at the breakfast bar, staring heavy-lidded at the coffeepot gurgling across the way.
Connor had popped in between Lester and the coffee-maker and swiftly babbled a question about where food for the diictodons might be. Lester had blinked. Very slowly. Unsure, Connor had repeated the question. Lester had directed a glare at him. A red-eyed, bleary glare that reminded Connor very strongly of a deinonychus. Suddenly worried for his throat, he had heard the coffee pot finish brewing behind him, and fled.
So the Morning Routine, Connor knows, is not something to be disrupted. Quite frankly, he is relieved that no calls from the ADD have interrupted the Morning Routine. Yet. He has it figured that there is no speaking to Lester before 7:15 AM, and only monotone grunts and the occasional disdainful glare are to be expected before eight.
The Friday morning that Lester actually speaks to him is quite shocking. And for several terrified seconds, Connor thinks he's going to have to leave. Why else would Lester be speaking coherently before seven o'clock in the morning? But it’s not that. He realizes this quite quickly. The words 'Ah, Temple? Sit down,' are not the words of James Lester kicking people out. It does, however, remind Connor an awful lot of his primary school headmaster.
Though reeling mentally, he does sit on the proffered barstool. Before he can get out a joke about the oddness of the situation, Lester speaks again.
'Ahm, you- you wouldn't mind terribly if, ehm,'
Lester pauses to clear his throat, resolutely inspecting the invisible dirt beneath his nails. Connor waits in the silence, caught off guard and bemused.
Lester clears his throat again, more resolutely than before. He lays his hand firmly down on the top of the bar and transfers his gaze to some point over Connor's right ear.
'You wouldn't mind if my children spent the weekend here, would you? I’d be here as well, of course. And they wouldn't get in the way. Whatever it is you do... on weekends.'
Connor's jaw drops. With sudden clarity, he realizes the definition of 'gob smacked'. James Lester is asking him permission? For his own children, to come to his own flat? Of him, Connor Temple, rogue student and uncomfortable guest?
It’s only when Lester's irritated, bloodshot gaze meets Connor's own that he realizes he hasn't answered.
'I- uhm, yeah! Yeah, I mean, no, no, I wouldn't mind. At all. I love kids.'
'Of course you do,' Lester murmurs. Then he rises and wanders out of the kitchen, the coffee-pot still pristine.
Connor watches him go, and wonders about Sid and Nancy. Following on the heels of that thought, he wonders at Lester not saying anything about them.
As he stretches his cramped back later that day, standing in front of the ADD and looking up at Lester's office, the thought strikes him that he probably needn't worry about being kicked out any time soon. The thought is surprise, but it doesn't really change anything: he still wonders why Lester doesn't toss him to the curb.
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Category: Gen
Spoilers: Hmm... technically, yeah, for up to S3.E6
Author's Notes: I did weird things with the tense in this, so if you spot anything off on that, it would be appreciated muchly. And, as always, Brit-picking and other nit-picking is welcome!
Summary: Connor wonders, sometimes.
Connor is always surprised that Lester hasn't kicked him out yet. It's a sort of perpetual state for him: wondering why he isn't on the step with his bags beside him; wondering just what it is that will drive Lester over the edge.
Of course, neither of them expects this to be a permanent thing, and sometimes Connor thinks that this might be why he hasn't been kicked out yet. He can picture Lester muttering to himself, head in hands, telling himself that it’s only temporary. Especially after he's done something annoying, or bothersome, or otherwise disruptive of the man's smooth routine.
Connor's never met anyone who could so perfectly operate 'on a routine'. It’s a little eerie at times, really. Even the most punctual, perfectionist people Connor's met in his lifetime - and he's met plenty - don't match James Lester for pure, smooth routine. He figures Lester could probably go through most of his day on auto-pilot if it weren't for outside influences. Mornings, for one, are always completed on auto-pilot.
He tried to interrupt the Morning Routine once. Sid and Nancy were ignoring their usual breakfast, and nothing he did would get them to eat. Connor remembers it quite clearly. It was 6:47 AM. Lester had started brewing his first coffee exactly two minutes ago. When Connor skidded into the kitchen, Lester was sat at the breakfast bar, staring heavy-lidded at the coffeepot gurgling across the way.
Connor had popped in between Lester and the coffee-maker and swiftly babbled a question about where food for the diictodons might be. Lester had blinked. Very slowly. Unsure, Connor had repeated the question. Lester had directed a glare at him. A red-eyed, bleary glare that reminded Connor very strongly of a deinonychus. Suddenly worried for his throat, he had heard the coffee pot finish brewing behind him, and fled.
So the Morning Routine, Connor knows, is not something to be disrupted. Quite frankly, he is relieved that no calls from the ADD have interrupted the Morning Routine. Yet. He has it figured that there is no speaking to Lester before 7:15 AM, and only monotone grunts and the occasional disdainful glare are to be expected before eight.
The Friday morning that Lester actually speaks to him is quite shocking. And for several terrified seconds, Connor thinks he's going to have to leave. Why else would Lester be speaking coherently before seven o'clock in the morning? But it’s not that. He realizes this quite quickly. The words 'Ah, Temple? Sit down,' are not the words of James Lester kicking people out. It does, however, remind Connor an awful lot of his primary school headmaster.
Though reeling mentally, he does sit on the proffered barstool. Before he can get out a joke about the oddness of the situation, Lester speaks again.
'Ahm, you- you wouldn't mind terribly if, ehm,'
Lester pauses to clear his throat, resolutely inspecting the invisible dirt beneath his nails. Connor waits in the silence, caught off guard and bemused.
Lester clears his throat again, more resolutely than before. He lays his hand firmly down on the top of the bar and transfers his gaze to some point over Connor's right ear.
'You wouldn't mind if my children spent the weekend here, would you? I’d be here as well, of course. And they wouldn't get in the way. Whatever it is you do... on weekends.'
Connor's jaw drops. With sudden clarity, he realizes the definition of 'gob smacked'. James Lester is asking him permission? For his own children, to come to his own flat? Of him, Connor Temple, rogue student and uncomfortable guest?
It’s only when Lester's irritated, bloodshot gaze meets Connor's own that he realizes he hasn't answered.
'I- uhm, yeah! Yeah, I mean, no, no, I wouldn't mind. At all. I love kids.'
'Of course you do,' Lester murmurs. Then he rises and wanders out of the kitchen, the coffee-pot still pristine.
Connor watches him go, and wonders about Sid and Nancy. Following on the heels of that thought, he wonders at Lester not saying anything about them.
As he stretches his cramped back later that day, standing in front of the ADD and looking up at Lester's office, the thought strikes him that he probably needn't worry about being kicked out any time soon. The thought is surprise, but it doesn't really change anything: he still wonders why Lester doesn't toss him to the curb.