Immaculate
Title: Immaculate
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Lester
Words: 803
Rating: PG
AN: In an attempt to get words down I asked for somne mini fic promts over at primeval_denial and knitekat gave me Lester+Becker "windswept".
AN 2: Not betad. Sorry. Also trying to remember how to post to this thing...
AN 3: Oh, and this uses my head canon that Lester is ex-military
Lester would never admit it to anyone, he was barely willing to admit it to himself, but this had been a mistake.
Getting back out into the field was, on paper, an excellent idea. As was showing that ridiculous young upstart, Becker, that even though he wore a suit to work these days he had lost nothing of his abilities from his days in uniform.
Lester could still handle a weapon, he kept himself fit and he could dress in black just as well as the new captain.
And it had worked. In part.
He had held his ground alongside the rest of the men. His shots had been sure and true and he had taken down his fair share of the little lizardy things with the big teeth.
But then the weather had turned against him in spectacular fashion and made him miss his nice comfortable chair in his nice warm office. Warm and dry office. He would even rather be in a meeting with the minister instead of this.
Lester carefully kept the scowl off his face. He would not give the other men the satisfaction of seeing how uncomfortable he was.
And he was uncomfortable. His ill-fitting borrowed uniform was soaked, heavy, sticking to him and starting to chafe in places he had forgotten could chafe.
He would like to think that he perhaps looked windswept and interesting, but he knew even without a mirror that it was a far cry from the truth. The winds that had blown up from nowhere had ensured that his neat, respectable style had been whipped out of all form and into something he assumed could have the words “hedgerow” and “backwards” attributed to it.
But the rain had helped, by considerately plastering it all down to his head.
And Becker, that utter, utter bastard, still looked fucking immaculate.
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Lester
Words: 803
Rating: PG
AN: In an attempt to get words down I asked for somne mini fic promts over at primeval_denial and knitekat gave me Lester+Becker "windswept".
AN 2: Not betad. Sorry. Also trying to remember how to post to this thing...
AN 3: Oh, and this uses my head canon that Lester is ex-military
Lester would never admit it to anyone, he was barely willing to admit it to himself, but this had been a mistake.
Getting back out into the field was, on paper, an excellent idea. As was showing that ridiculous young upstart, Becker, that even though he wore a suit to work these days he had lost nothing of his abilities from his days in uniform.
Lester could still handle a weapon, he kept himself fit and he could dress in black just as well as the new captain.
And it had worked. In part.
He had held his ground alongside the rest of the men. His shots had been sure and true and he had taken down his fair share of the little lizardy things with the big teeth.
But then the weather had turned against him in spectacular fashion and made him miss his nice comfortable chair in his nice warm office. Warm and dry office. He would even rather be in a meeting with the minister instead of this.
Lester carefully kept the scowl off his face. He would not give the other men the satisfaction of seeing how uncomfortable he was.
And he was uncomfortable. His ill-fitting borrowed uniform was soaked, heavy, sticking to him and starting to chafe in places he had forgotten could chafe.
He would like to think that he perhaps looked windswept and interesting, but he knew even without a mirror that it was a far cry from the truth. The winds that had blown up from nowhere had ensured that his neat, respectable style had been whipped out of all form and into something he assumed could have the words “hedgerow” and “backwards” attributed to it.
But the rain had helped, by considerately plastering it all down to his head.
And Becker, that utter, utter bastard, still looked fucking immaculate.