Fanfic: Another Day (Claudia/Nick) - G
Another Day
Author’s note: Fluff and nonsense, set season one. Hopefully you can work out when…
**
The clocked ticked over to read 5.45. The muted susurrations of Radio 4 murmured into the darkened bedroom as Claudia Brown rolled over with a sigh, pulling her thick white duvet up to her chin. Eyes still firmly closed, she smiled slightly. Another day had begun. Another day of…
Her eyes flew open. Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit, she’d done it again.
Sitting up, she shoved her unruly hair behind her ears, angry with herself. She’d been sure that today would be different. She’d had a strong talk with herself before her eyes had closed last night. This morning, she had told herself, she would not wake up in the same way. This morning, her first thought would not be of Nick Cutter.
But it had been. As soon as the radio woke her up, his face had drifted into her thoughts, as if it had already been lingering in her mind as she slept. The same as it had been for the last week. At least.
Pushing back the duvet, Claudia swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, discarding her nightgown as she headed for her en suite shower room.
Pulling the light cord with an unnecessarily vicious twang, she leant over the sink and stared at her face in the mirror. Her hair was, as usual, a tangled mop. Claudia prodded suspiciously at what she thought could well be a new line under one eye. Yet another example of how much younger she wasn’t getting. Far past the age for her subconscious to be playing tricks on her like this.
It doesn’t mean anything, she told herself, as she dialled the shower to full and watched the hot jets begin to steam the glass before stepping in. They worked pretty closely together. And theirs was a pretty bizarre job, after all. It stood to reason that he’d be in her thoughts a lot.
But the rest of them aren’t, a voice that wouldn’t be silenced reminded her. You don’t wake up thinking of Abby, or Connor, or Stephen.
Shut up, she told herself firmly. Who says that makes any difference?
You know what they say about your first thought of the day… insisted the voice, treacherously.
Refusing to continue this frankly rather disturbing conversation with herself, Claudia reached for the shower gel.
Thirty minutes later though, as she crunched a bite of toast whilst trying to do something - anything - with her hair, the argument returned. By now the early spring sun was pouring through the window of the wide Victorian hallway, bouncing light off the mirror and dancing along the neatly arranged dresser that dominated the space. Giving up on tying it up, Claudia narrowed her eyes at the woman looking back. Neat white jacket, that was fine, you could never go wrong with Reiss. Linen trousers, not too tight, not too loose. A red shirt, slightly flamboyant, perhaps, but she thought it toned down the auburn of her hair. Hair itself - well, best not to go there. But all in all, not bad. She’d even managed some make-up for a change. Nothing overt, just a bit of eye shadow and mascara, and some pale cover-up to tone down those stupid freckles that had cursed her ever since she could remember.
Claudia tried to ignore the little niggle at the back of her mind that asked her why she was suddenly making an extra effort to look good for work.
Nothing wrong with looking your best, she told herself. Even for work. Is there?
It had nothing to do with Nick Cutter. Really, it didn’t. Just because every now and then she found herself thinking idle thoughts about what he might do in his spare time or what his home would be like or the fact that his eyes really were a startling shade of blue… None of those things meant anything. He was an intriguing man, doing an intriguing job, after all. Anyone would wonder about him.
Brushing away a few stray crumbs of toast, Claudia checked her watch. If she left now she could be at the Home Office by 7am, which would give her plenty of time to check over the morning’s papers before Lester arrived at his desk. She lived in constant fear that one day she’d open the Telegraph to find a photograph of some prehistoric beast parading around Whitehall. So far her nightmares hadn’t played out in reality, but to her mind it was only a matter of time.
Pulling the front door shut behind her, she lifted her face into the sunlight, breathing in the crisp morning air. If there was one plus-side to the anomalies, it had to be the field work. The problem with being a civil servant was that one usually spent far too many hours indoors, in grey offices with even greyer lighting.
Her thoughts strayed to Nick again, and she wondered when she’d started thinking of him by his first name rather than his second. She should probably call him ‘Professor’ or ‘Cutter’ - particularly since he rarely said her Christian name without immediately following it with ‘Brown’. ‘Claudia Brown’, he’d say in one breath, his Scottish burr holding it on his tongue perhaps a second more than necessary. She had the impression that it had become something of a private joke for him, though she couldn’t imagine why.
Claudia walked towards her car, frowning slightly. Maybe she’d ask him about it. But she’d become used it to now, and if she did perhaps he’d stop. She realised with a jolt that she didn’t want him to. It felt oddly… intimate.
Sliding behind the wheel, she turned the key in her car’s ignition, and absently found herself recreating their first meeting, trying to piece together the sensation of his surprised lips as she made herself known. At the time it hadn’t been a moment worth filing away for future contemplation. He’d just been a convenient escape, though if she was honest with herself if he’d looked less like he did she might well have found another way to shed her creepy new admirer.
The memory remained annoyingly distant as Claudia drove along Fulham Broadway; all she could recall was the slight brush of his stubble against her chin and the taste of peat from the whisky he’d been drinking.
Pausing at yet another red light, she shook herself. Good grief, what was she doing? Day dreaming about a man she’d likely have to face in the flesh later today! Wake up, woman, she ordered herself brusquely as she slipped the car into gear and sped away from the light a little too quickly. What are you, 15?
The thing was, he wasn’t even her type. He was the dusty academic sort who couldn’t care less if his jeans had been made by Versace or had come from the latest collection at Sainsbury’s. He probably didn’t know what Oloroso was and likely thought that a good Friday evening involved settling down with a microwaved box of noodles and the latest paper on paleo-archaeology from some acclaimed yet obscure research station in deepest, darkest Africa.
Claudia liked refinement. She liked men who used moisturiser and meals out at Michelin-starred restaurants and classical music.
And if all that were not enough, he was married, for Christ’s sake, to a woman who had just resurfaced after eight years. A woman with more life experience than Claudia had in her little finger, and god, she and Nick looked made for each other. Helen, with her lean body, survival skills, her ability to look dishevelled and sexy in equal measure despite the fact that she probably only had a shower once in a blue bloody moon.
She yanked the gear stick hard as her little car shot around a corner towards the Home Office. Behind her another car slammed on its brakes and hooted loudly. The driver followed up with a lewd gesture, flipping his fingers at the stupid woman driver. Bastard, she thought.
Who was she kidding? Cutter didn’t even know she was alive. All that stuff with her name? He was laughing at her, for sure, at her desire to do things properly, her need for order. What else could it be? How could he see her as anything than an officious civil servant, a girl for whom fending for herself meant being at the front of the queue in the Home Office canteen?
Waving her ID pass, Claudia drove into the parking lot and pulled her car into its space. Letting the engine die, she groaned and rested her head on the steering wheel. This was the same argument she’d had with herself on the way to work for days. It was stupid, time wasting, emotionally draining and utterly pointless.
She refused to have a crush on a man who couldn’t even bring himself to shave regularly. That was it. She was done. No more idle thoughts, no more glances to see if he was watching her, no more friendly smiles. She’d leave him to his errant wife and beloved dinosaurs, and to hell with it.
Speed dating, Claudia decided as she slammed the car door shut and headed for the elevator. That’s the way to go. She spent so much time chasing creatures that should be damn well extinct that she was in danger of becoming so herself. Or at least, her love life was.
With a new sense of resolve, she smiled at the guard on duty at the front desk and marched towards her office with a little more swing to her hips than usual. She felt his eyes on her as she walked away, and grinned to herself slightly. Yeah, this was easy. Sod Nick Cutter, she thought, aware that she was being a little unfair on the man, since he hadn’t actually done anything. But who cared? It wasn’t like he’d even notice the change…
Claudia grabbed a stack of papers from the hoppers on the wall and balanced them under her chin as she backed into her office.
She turned around to find herself nose-to-nose with Nick Cutter.
Swearing in shock, she dropped the papers, which scattered around her feet in a flurry.
“Oh god, sorry,” he said, immediately dropping to a crouch, and beginning to pick up the news sheets.
“Cutter!” she exclaimed, flustered and suddenly relieved that she’d worn her hair down. It shielded the sudden flush that had stained her cheeks. “What the hell are you doing here this early?”
“Um - there’s been an incident.”
Papers safely collected, she retreated to the safety of her desk.
“An incident?”
“Yes - it happened yesterday afternoon but we’ve only just got wind of it. Bless Connor and his Internet skills.”
“What sort of incident?”
“Some sort of animal attack.”
“You think it’s anomaly-related?”
“Unless many golf courses are prone to attacks by predators. It happened in the grounds of some posh hotel on the outskirts of the city.”
“A golf course. Right. Lester will be pleased.” Claudia shouldered off her white jacket and dropped it on the back of her chair, trying to square the now untidy sheaves of paper on her desk into something manageable.
She looked up to find Nick watching her, an unintelligible glint in his eye. Her heart began to flip, until she remembered her resolve of a few moments earlier. She would not be moved by sparkling blue eyes, or smirks, or untidy hair. They were not for her, and she was immune to his frankly scruffy charms. She was not fooled. She crossed her arms and glared at him.
“Well, what are you waiting for? You’d better go and check it out don’t you think?”
He smiled then, raising an eyebrow, and nodded. “Aye, I suppose we’d better. Are you coming?”
“I’ll be along in a while. Try not to destroy anything before I get there.”
“Cross my heart,” he said, and this time there was a definite hint of warmth to his voice.
Still Nick didn’t move, and she looked at him suspiciously.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said, moving to the door but pausing to look back, hand on handle.
“What?” she said again.
He smiled, shrugging slightly, before he said, “Red suits you, Claudia Brown.”
He’d shut the door behind him before she had chance to think of a reply.
[END]
Author’s note: Fluff and nonsense, set season one. Hopefully you can work out when…
**
The clocked ticked over to read 5.45. The muted susurrations of Radio 4 murmured into the darkened bedroom as Claudia Brown rolled over with a sigh, pulling her thick white duvet up to her chin. Eyes still firmly closed, she smiled slightly. Another day had begun. Another day of…
Her eyes flew open. Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit, she’d done it again.
Sitting up, she shoved her unruly hair behind her ears, angry with herself. She’d been sure that today would be different. She’d had a strong talk with herself before her eyes had closed last night. This morning, she had told herself, she would not wake up in the same way. This morning, her first thought would not be of Nick Cutter.
But it had been. As soon as the radio woke her up, his face had drifted into her thoughts, as if it had already been lingering in her mind as she slept. The same as it had been for the last week. At least.
Pushing back the duvet, Claudia swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, discarding her nightgown as she headed for her en suite shower room.
Pulling the light cord with an unnecessarily vicious twang, she leant over the sink and stared at her face in the mirror. Her hair was, as usual, a tangled mop. Claudia prodded suspiciously at what she thought could well be a new line under one eye. Yet another example of how much younger she wasn’t getting. Far past the age for her subconscious to be playing tricks on her like this.
It doesn’t mean anything, she told herself, as she dialled the shower to full and watched the hot jets begin to steam the glass before stepping in. They worked pretty closely together. And theirs was a pretty bizarre job, after all. It stood to reason that he’d be in her thoughts a lot.
But the rest of them aren’t, a voice that wouldn’t be silenced reminded her. You don’t wake up thinking of Abby, or Connor, or Stephen.
Shut up, she told herself firmly. Who says that makes any difference?
You know what they say about your first thought of the day… insisted the voice, treacherously.
Refusing to continue this frankly rather disturbing conversation with herself, Claudia reached for the shower gel.
Thirty minutes later though, as she crunched a bite of toast whilst trying to do something - anything - with her hair, the argument returned. By now the early spring sun was pouring through the window of the wide Victorian hallway, bouncing light off the mirror and dancing along the neatly arranged dresser that dominated the space. Giving up on tying it up, Claudia narrowed her eyes at the woman looking back. Neat white jacket, that was fine, you could never go wrong with Reiss. Linen trousers, not too tight, not too loose. A red shirt, slightly flamboyant, perhaps, but she thought it toned down the auburn of her hair. Hair itself - well, best not to go there. But all in all, not bad. She’d even managed some make-up for a change. Nothing overt, just a bit of eye shadow and mascara, and some pale cover-up to tone down those stupid freckles that had cursed her ever since she could remember.
Claudia tried to ignore the little niggle at the back of her mind that asked her why she was suddenly making an extra effort to look good for work.
Nothing wrong with looking your best, she told herself. Even for work. Is there?
It had nothing to do with Nick Cutter. Really, it didn’t. Just because every now and then she found herself thinking idle thoughts about what he might do in his spare time or what his home would be like or the fact that his eyes really were a startling shade of blue… None of those things meant anything. He was an intriguing man, doing an intriguing job, after all. Anyone would wonder about him.
Brushing away a few stray crumbs of toast, Claudia checked her watch. If she left now she could be at the Home Office by 7am, which would give her plenty of time to check over the morning’s papers before Lester arrived at his desk. She lived in constant fear that one day she’d open the Telegraph to find a photograph of some prehistoric beast parading around Whitehall. So far her nightmares hadn’t played out in reality, but to her mind it was only a matter of time.
Pulling the front door shut behind her, she lifted her face into the sunlight, breathing in the crisp morning air. If there was one plus-side to the anomalies, it had to be the field work. The problem with being a civil servant was that one usually spent far too many hours indoors, in grey offices with even greyer lighting.
Her thoughts strayed to Nick again, and she wondered when she’d started thinking of him by his first name rather than his second. She should probably call him ‘Professor’ or ‘Cutter’ - particularly since he rarely said her Christian name without immediately following it with ‘Brown’. ‘Claudia Brown’, he’d say in one breath, his Scottish burr holding it on his tongue perhaps a second more than necessary. She had the impression that it had become something of a private joke for him, though she couldn’t imagine why.
Claudia walked towards her car, frowning slightly. Maybe she’d ask him about it. But she’d become used it to now, and if she did perhaps he’d stop. She realised with a jolt that she didn’t want him to. It felt oddly… intimate.
Sliding behind the wheel, she turned the key in her car’s ignition, and absently found herself recreating their first meeting, trying to piece together the sensation of his surprised lips as she made herself known. At the time it hadn’t been a moment worth filing away for future contemplation. He’d just been a convenient escape, though if she was honest with herself if he’d looked less like he did she might well have found another way to shed her creepy new admirer.
The memory remained annoyingly distant as Claudia drove along Fulham Broadway; all she could recall was the slight brush of his stubble against her chin and the taste of peat from the whisky he’d been drinking.
Pausing at yet another red light, she shook herself. Good grief, what was she doing? Day dreaming about a man she’d likely have to face in the flesh later today! Wake up, woman, she ordered herself brusquely as she slipped the car into gear and sped away from the light a little too quickly. What are you, 15?
The thing was, he wasn’t even her type. He was the dusty academic sort who couldn’t care less if his jeans had been made by Versace or had come from the latest collection at Sainsbury’s. He probably didn’t know what Oloroso was and likely thought that a good Friday evening involved settling down with a microwaved box of noodles and the latest paper on paleo-archaeology from some acclaimed yet obscure research station in deepest, darkest Africa.
Claudia liked refinement. She liked men who used moisturiser and meals out at Michelin-starred restaurants and classical music.
And if all that were not enough, he was married, for Christ’s sake, to a woman who had just resurfaced after eight years. A woman with more life experience than Claudia had in her little finger, and god, she and Nick looked made for each other. Helen, with her lean body, survival skills, her ability to look dishevelled and sexy in equal measure despite the fact that she probably only had a shower once in a blue bloody moon.
She yanked the gear stick hard as her little car shot around a corner towards the Home Office. Behind her another car slammed on its brakes and hooted loudly. The driver followed up with a lewd gesture, flipping his fingers at the stupid woman driver. Bastard, she thought.
Who was she kidding? Cutter didn’t even know she was alive. All that stuff with her name? He was laughing at her, for sure, at her desire to do things properly, her need for order. What else could it be? How could he see her as anything than an officious civil servant, a girl for whom fending for herself meant being at the front of the queue in the Home Office canteen?
Waving her ID pass, Claudia drove into the parking lot and pulled her car into its space. Letting the engine die, she groaned and rested her head on the steering wheel. This was the same argument she’d had with herself on the way to work for days. It was stupid, time wasting, emotionally draining and utterly pointless.
She refused to have a crush on a man who couldn’t even bring himself to shave regularly. That was it. She was done. No more idle thoughts, no more glances to see if he was watching her, no more friendly smiles. She’d leave him to his errant wife and beloved dinosaurs, and to hell with it.
Speed dating, Claudia decided as she slammed the car door shut and headed for the elevator. That’s the way to go. She spent so much time chasing creatures that should be damn well extinct that she was in danger of becoming so herself. Or at least, her love life was.
With a new sense of resolve, she smiled at the guard on duty at the front desk and marched towards her office with a little more swing to her hips than usual. She felt his eyes on her as she walked away, and grinned to herself slightly. Yeah, this was easy. Sod Nick Cutter, she thought, aware that she was being a little unfair on the man, since he hadn’t actually done anything. But who cared? It wasn’t like he’d even notice the change…
Claudia grabbed a stack of papers from the hoppers on the wall and balanced them under her chin as she backed into her office.
She turned around to find herself nose-to-nose with Nick Cutter.
Swearing in shock, she dropped the papers, which scattered around her feet in a flurry.
“Oh god, sorry,” he said, immediately dropping to a crouch, and beginning to pick up the news sheets.
“Cutter!” she exclaimed, flustered and suddenly relieved that she’d worn her hair down. It shielded the sudden flush that had stained her cheeks. “What the hell are you doing here this early?”
“Um - there’s been an incident.”
Papers safely collected, she retreated to the safety of her desk.
“An incident?”
“Yes - it happened yesterday afternoon but we’ve only just got wind of it. Bless Connor and his Internet skills.”
“What sort of incident?”
“Some sort of animal attack.”
“You think it’s anomaly-related?”
“Unless many golf courses are prone to attacks by predators. It happened in the grounds of some posh hotel on the outskirts of the city.”
“A golf course. Right. Lester will be pleased.” Claudia shouldered off her white jacket and dropped it on the back of her chair, trying to square the now untidy sheaves of paper on her desk into something manageable.
She looked up to find Nick watching her, an unintelligible glint in his eye. Her heart began to flip, until she remembered her resolve of a few moments earlier. She would not be moved by sparkling blue eyes, or smirks, or untidy hair. They were not for her, and she was immune to his frankly scruffy charms. She was not fooled. She crossed her arms and glared at him.
“Well, what are you waiting for? You’d better go and check it out don’t you think?”
He smiled then, raising an eyebrow, and nodded. “Aye, I suppose we’d better. Are you coming?”
“I’ll be along in a while. Try not to destroy anything before I get there.”
“Cross my heart,” he said, and this time there was a definite hint of warmth to his voice.
Still Nick didn’t move, and she looked at him suspiciously.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said, moving to the door but pausing to look back, hand on handle.
“What?” she said again.
He smiled, shrugging slightly, before he said, “Red suits you, Claudia Brown.”
He’d shut the door behind him before she had chance to think of a reply.
[END]