[english] Fic - Are you being served? - Well you do know that stress is bad for you, Mr. Humphries
Well you do know that stress is bad for you, Mr. Humphries
Fandom: Are you being served?
Pairing: Mr. Lucas/Mr. Humphries
Rating: PG
Note: Set during 5x07, "It Pays to Advertize".
As self-absorbed as Mr. Lucas could sometimes be, even he could plainly see that it had been a stressful week for Mr. Humphries, a stressful week indeed.
And it all had started so well, with the dummies! That smile on dear old Clayborne's face when he finally met that new version of himself would have warmed the coldest of hearts. He was so pleased with it! For a moment, Dick thought Mr. Humphries would try and bring the dummy home with it.
Obviously, that couldn't last. A mere five minutes and a disaster later, and Mr. Lucas was undressing Mr. Humphries. Which would not have been unpleasant in itself, nor unusual - except for the fact that it was in public, and that Mr. Humphries was posing as his own dummy (don't ask).
One could not say that Dick Lucas was not as his ease when undressing people. In fact, getting clothes off was one of his favourite things to do! (especially Clayborne's, although he would never have admitted to it) But this specific time would not be part of his fondest memories (for one, his fondest memories did not tend to have Captain Peacock in them).
And that's how poor Mr. Humphries week had started badly. And he definitely thought it would improved once he became the director of Grace Brothers' new TV ad! Once again, he took to the task with a smile that made Dick feel all warm inside (no, not that kind of warmth, although...).
Obviously, that couldn't last either. Wrong wigs, cheap makeup, bad sound recording and worse acting... Dick saw Mr. Humphries' face drop a bit further mishap after mishap, and was not long to recognise the signs of stress in his colleague's demeanour.
Well, if there was one advantage to Mr. Humphries being stressed, it was that Dick Lucas knew exactly what to do about it.
"Mr. Humphries, are you free?"
Young Mr. Grace had just announced that the whole ordeal had been for nothing, and everybody was busy taking off makeup or costumes (or both) and hurrying home - Miss Brahms was helping Mrs. Slocombe, whose eyes remained hoplessly shut (not that it made any difference whatsoever to her face).
Even that wretched cameraman (Dick had not missed the way he was talking to Clayborne - who did he think he was? Nobody flirted with Mr. Humphries, you'd know better than that just looking at him, he just wasn't the sort, any kind of smooth talking made him go all red, no, you really had to know the way to do it, and nobody but Mr. Lucas was able for it, nobody), even that wretched cameraman was busy packing up all his material (and probably stealing a few bits and bobs along the way, yeah, Dick knew his sort). It was time to make sure Mr. Humphries would never have to fall into his claws.
"Mr. Humphries," Mr. Lucas repeated patiently, "are you free?"
"Yes, I am free Mr. Lucas, although I should really head home."
"There's something I need you to have a look at in, hum, the changing rooms."
"Couldn't it wait until morning?"
"I'm afraid it can't, Mr. Humphries."
Poor old Clayborne's eyes were full of fatigue and - yes, there it was - stress. Obviously, not even knowing he would not have to be the director had been enough to relieve it. Just as Dick had thought.
"Well then," Mr. Humphries sighed, "let's go on with it."
As he followed Mr. Lucas into the fitting room, anybody watching (nobody was) could have noticed that his walk liked its usual... enthusiasm.
Good thing I'm here for him, or he'd be a broken man by morning!
"I'm afraid I do not see what I am here for, Mr. Lucas."
The room was empty. Dick quickly pushed a bench in the middle of it.
"Why don't you sit on here, Mr. Humphries."
"Mr. Lucas, I'm afraid I don't have the time for any of your jokes tonight. I promised my mother I... oh."
Quick as ever, Dick's hands had placed themselves on Mr. Humphries' shoulders, and started massaging them. It hadn't taken him long to learn that trick.
"You were saying, Mr. Humphries?"
"I guess mother won't worry too much, I did say I would be home late. Oh, yes, a little bit more on the right. Yes. Oooh..."
"Not too loud now, Mr. Humphries, we wouldn't want our colleagues getting the wrong impression."
Clayborne's shoulders suddenly stiffened, prompting Dick to stop his massages as his colleagues turned his head up towards him:
"Are you telling me, Mr. Lucas, that you brought me here with the mere intention of rubbing me shoulders?"
Dick grinned.
"I didn't say nothing of the sort, Mr. Humphries. But if you keep quiet, they'll think we're already gone, and then, it won't matter what impression they get, since they won't be there to get any sort of impression at all."
"But suppose they close the store and we get locked in?"
"I'll find a way. I've been in worse situations than that, you know. Actually, as far as compromising situations go, this is a pretty tame one."
And it was. And Clayborne must have known it, because he finally started to relax again. Dick's hands went back to work.
He was still grinning.
Fandom: Are you being served?
Pairing: Mr. Lucas/Mr. Humphries
Rating: PG
Note: Set during 5x07, "It Pays to Advertize".
As self-absorbed as Mr. Lucas could sometimes be, even he could plainly see that it had been a stressful week for Mr. Humphries, a stressful week indeed.
And it all had started so well, with the dummies! That smile on dear old Clayborne's face when he finally met that new version of himself would have warmed the coldest of hearts. He was so pleased with it! For a moment, Dick thought Mr. Humphries would try and bring the dummy home with it.
Obviously, that couldn't last. A mere five minutes and a disaster later, and Mr. Lucas was undressing Mr. Humphries. Which would not have been unpleasant in itself, nor unusual - except for the fact that it was in public, and that Mr. Humphries was posing as his own dummy (don't ask).
One could not say that Dick Lucas was not as his ease when undressing people. In fact, getting clothes off was one of his favourite things to do! (especially Clayborne's, although he would never have admitted to it) But this specific time would not be part of his fondest memories (for one, his fondest memories did not tend to have Captain Peacock in them).
And that's how poor Mr. Humphries week had started badly. And he definitely thought it would improved once he became the director of Grace Brothers' new TV ad! Once again, he took to the task with a smile that made Dick feel all warm inside (no, not that kind of warmth, although...).
Obviously, that couldn't last either. Wrong wigs, cheap makeup, bad sound recording and worse acting... Dick saw Mr. Humphries' face drop a bit further mishap after mishap, and was not long to recognise the signs of stress in his colleague's demeanour.
Well, if there was one advantage to Mr. Humphries being stressed, it was that Dick Lucas knew exactly what to do about it.
"Mr. Humphries, are you free?"
Young Mr. Grace had just announced that the whole ordeal had been for nothing, and everybody was busy taking off makeup or costumes (or both) and hurrying home - Miss Brahms was helping Mrs. Slocombe, whose eyes remained hoplessly shut (not that it made any difference whatsoever to her face).
Even that wretched cameraman (Dick had not missed the way he was talking to Clayborne - who did he think he was? Nobody flirted with Mr. Humphries, you'd know better than that just looking at him, he just wasn't the sort, any kind of smooth talking made him go all red, no, you really had to know the way to do it, and nobody but Mr. Lucas was able for it, nobody), even that wretched cameraman was busy packing up all his material (and probably stealing a few bits and bobs along the way, yeah, Dick knew his sort). It was time to make sure Mr. Humphries would never have to fall into his claws.
"Mr. Humphries," Mr. Lucas repeated patiently, "are you free?"
"Yes, I am free Mr. Lucas, although I should really head home."
"There's something I need you to have a look at in, hum, the changing rooms."
"Couldn't it wait until morning?"
"I'm afraid it can't, Mr. Humphries."
Poor old Clayborne's eyes were full of fatigue and - yes, there it was - stress. Obviously, not even knowing he would not have to be the director had been enough to relieve it. Just as Dick had thought.
"Well then," Mr. Humphries sighed, "let's go on with it."
As he followed Mr. Lucas into the fitting room, anybody watching (nobody was) could have noticed that his walk liked its usual... enthusiasm.
Good thing I'm here for him, or he'd be a broken man by morning!
"I'm afraid I do not see what I am here for, Mr. Lucas."
The room was empty. Dick quickly pushed a bench in the middle of it.
"Why don't you sit on here, Mr. Humphries."
"Mr. Lucas, I'm afraid I don't have the time for any of your jokes tonight. I promised my mother I... oh."
Quick as ever, Dick's hands had placed themselves on Mr. Humphries' shoulders, and started massaging them. It hadn't taken him long to learn that trick.
"You were saying, Mr. Humphries?"
"I guess mother won't worry too much, I did say I would be home late. Oh, yes, a little bit more on the right. Yes. Oooh..."
"Not too loud now, Mr. Humphries, we wouldn't want our colleagues getting the wrong impression."
Clayborne's shoulders suddenly stiffened, prompting Dick to stop his massages as his colleagues turned his head up towards him:
"Are you telling me, Mr. Lucas, that you brought me here with the mere intention of rubbing me shoulders?"
Dick grinned.
"I didn't say nothing of the sort, Mr. Humphries. But if you keep quiet, they'll think we're already gone, and then, it won't matter what impression they get, since they won't be there to get any sort of impression at all."
"But suppose they close the store and we get locked in?"
"I'll find a way. I've been in worse situations than that, you know. Actually, as far as compromising situations go, this is a pretty tame one."
And it was. And Clayborne must have known it, because he finally started to relax again. Dick's hands went back to work.
He was still grinning.