Stay Awhile, Primeval, PG-13
This started from the weekly prompt 3. "What would your wife (husband) say if she (he) knew you were here?" and then went in a completely different direction. Oh well.
Title: Stay Awhile
Fandom: Primeval
Rating: Pg-13
Table: Week 4 from prompted_quill
Prompt: 3. "What would your wife say if she knew you were here?"
Summery: Later after the bar Deacon finally gets home only to find an unwanted guest has followed him home.
A N: Sequel to Right now you can’t tell. Considering making this into a multi-chaptered fic so this might end up as a first chapter, I’ll see how it goes.
"It's quite late you know?" Deacon twisted his head from it’s place on the door, his door or to be precise his front door that remained determinedly locked.
“What do you want? Don’t you have a family to go pester.” Deacon took out his keys again and tried to open the door, after the fifth attempt Lester grabbed the keys and easily unlocked the door. “Dear God it’s honestly not that hard to put a key in a lock, now get in before your neighbours wake up.” Lester ushered him into his own house and lead him directly to his living room without hesitation despite never having been anywhere near Deacon’s home before.
The room was a decent size with two two-seat sofas arranged around a coffee table with a large screen TV at the corner of the room, clearly placed so that everyone sitting could have unrestricted view of the TV. Like almost everything else that their owner had or wore, the sofas were black leather and lightly worn. They were decorated with two red cushions each that were looking very inviting to Lester in his tried state. Lester watched as Deacon automatically went to the right sofa on sat at the far end, the movements clearly borne of habit, Lester resisted joining him in favour of looking around the spacious room.
The colour scheme of the whole room appeared to be black and red with almost no other colours, despite the dark colouring the room was bright and warm with a happy atmosphere that was encouraged by the smiling photos of a rather strong group of four men, there was several picture’s-all of the same four men-his old team Lester thought curiously. None of the four men in any of the shots looked anything like Gemmell which just added to Lester’s curiousness.
The prior mentioned drinks cabinet was placed against the wall and well within reach of Deacon’s chosen place-Lester doubted that was the reason Deacon sat there even with the memory he had shared earlier. It was made of a dark mahogany with a sheet of glass in each door, it was about knee height and crafted beautifully and there was no mistaking that it was handcrafted. The cabinet was filled with a great verity of alcohol most looked foreign in nature and from to looks of it most were strong and every one had at least been drunken to the label with the exception of one bottle of a dark amber liquid that scarcely had at most a shot glass worth’s out.
Lester’s curiosity was starting to annoy him but this man was such an intrigue as to warrant the late night and with the threat of returning to his less than welcoming home, Lester was prepared to humour his demanding curiosity. The men in the pictures looked to be the easiest point to settle. There were maybe ten pictures in total all scattered around the room all but one held the same men. The pictures were all the same size but each one was held within a different frame, it was the frames that drew attention as they were a mirage of different materials and colours and most didn’t fit the scheme of the room.
Lester went to lift one of the pictures-this one of the group on what looked like a beach-only to have his hand grabbed just as his fingertip brushed the cold surface of the stainless steel frame. He didn’t let his surprise show at the speed Deacon had managed to cross the room when he was suppose to be drunk. The grip on his wrist was strong and almost but not quite painful, Lester glanced up to Deacon only to encounter a set of steely gray eyes that held the threat of violence. Lester realised that just because Deacon Gemmell was a medic it didn’t make him any less dangerous, he was after all SAS trained.
After another not so subtle squeeze Deacon released Lester’s wrist, then he moved back to the sofa and collapsed onto it with a surprising amount of grace, Lester was starting to doubt just how drunk Deacon really was.
Now Lester was left standing with nothing to do so after some consideration he quietly removed his suit jacket and placed in on the back of the leather sofa then after some more thought went round the sofa and sat on the table, his instincts telling him that sitting on the sofa would only lead to trouble. As he apparently is being ignored Lester let his mind start to catalogue what he’ learnt so far.
“You want to tell me why your following me?” The medic’s voice cut sharply through Lester’s musings and was still clear and even although he appeared to be asleep-Lester reminded himself to never presume anything about the mysterious male next to him.
Lester thought about it for several minutes before answering. “I wanted to have a chat, figure out what the reports don’t tell or the things they downplay. I won’t have the chat when you’ve drunk so much but there are things that I still want to know and if anything you inebriated will make things easer for me.” Lester tilted his head slightly, studying the man in front of him.
Throughout Lester’s response Deacon had remained lying back on the sofa with his eyes firmly shut, the only movements were Deacons shallow breaths. The lack of reaction was ether very bad or very good depending on what Lester took it to mean. Normally this answer lead to Lester ether being kicked out or in a few cases a rather distracting injury so Deacon’s lack was…well curious to say the least.
“Why do you care?” Deacon still remain in the same position which was starting to grate on Lester’s nerves with the inability to look the medic in the eye. It would be fair to say that James Lester ruled by intimidation and iron will, neither work without god damn eye contact.
Lester took a deep steadying breath, people really were frustrating sometimes. “That is not important right now. Right now I want to learn certain facts about your past but only from your point of view as the reports I have read are sketchy to say the least. Now…”
Lester blinked, suddenly aware that Deacon’s ability to listen to him was impaired by the fact that he was asleep, Lester had seen that annoying blankness enough times now to see the truth of the matter. Deacon may still be in the same position with the same expression as he had been for ten minutes now but Lester wasn’t fooled.
Lester clicked his jaw-the noise sounding extremely loud in the quite room-and considered having a closer look at the pictures again but eventually decided against it. A quick glance at the clock told him that returning home would be pointless and a dismal experience and the concept of returning to the ARC filled him with a since of dread so that only left one option.
Lester slowly left the living room, switching the light off as he went and made his way to the front door and gently clicked the deadbolt lock in place before taking off his shoes and placing them beside the door. As Lester quietly as possible made his way up the stairs he reflected that this wasn’t the night he had planned when he stepped foot in the bar all those hours ago but at least he had proven himself right-Deacon Gemmell was fast becoming an intriguing man.