Primeval: Fix You, Becker/Matt
Title: Fix You
Author: ssw_loved
Rating: 15
Pairing: Becker/Matt, one mention of Becker/Danny (if you can catch it)
Warning: none
Spoilers: series 4, episode 6
Summary: Becker wants to fix it.
Notes: Follows my previously posted drabble, “Another Year”, and dedicated to quoththewriter because she prompted me without realising it.
He says “happy birthday, Matthew” in a breathy whisper, low in his ear, but tears threaten to wet the corners of his eyes. He’s never heard those words before, in this world or another, and the effect is so instant it’s a head rush. Racing pulse and shaking fingers, a heat in his body that has nothing to do with Becker’s being so close.
He’s suddenly too close. It has Matt stumbling to get back, get away, a hand pushed forward in a gesture of ‘stop’ that Becker ignores like the stubborn bastard he is, while Matt doubles over, the weight in his chest like a heart attack.
A chair is pushed against the back of his legs. He trips rather than sits, falling into it, struggling to breathe.
He can still hear it.
“Another year older. Another year closer, Matthew.”
“Happy birthday, Matthew.”
Becker’s hand is on his back, rubbing a gentle circle.
“Head between your legs, Matt.” The hand his back pushes, and he obliges. “Unless you’re having a heart attack. In which case…”
“No.” He manages to croak, and the hand resumes its circle.
“Didn’t think so. Breathe slowly, and when you’re ready, sit up.”
He only takes two even breaths before sitting up, and Becker moves to stand in front of him.
Dark brown eyes meet his, warmth in their stare. A scarred eyebrow is raised but his expression remains soft and when he asks, “What happened?”, he lets him answer on his own.
“I was dizzy.” He finally says, not looking Becker in the eyes even though in the face of all the lies he’s spoken, this one is small. Miniscule. Non-existent. “Haven’t eaten all day. Low blood sugar.”
Only, the lie is everything because this wasn’t nothing, and in reality, three simple words brought him closer to fainting than any of the creature they’ve come across. It connects to everything - every single reason that he’s lied, every false word and misstep that he’s taken to protect his reason for being here.
To protect his father.
And Becker sees through it. Eyes that were once soft have turned stern, though the caring empathy he’d seen is still there.
“Should I call your bullshit now, or give you time to adjust?”
“Don’t push this, Becker.” He warns, even though Becker’s words are a light tease, and the reaction from Becker is immediate. No more games.
“You almost fainted on me. I have the right to push.” No more of that cautious, soft speech he’d used. Becker’s words allow no more room for adjustment, but Matt’s never been fond of listening, anyway.
“No. You don’t have the right to do anything.”
The hurt that flashes on Becker’s face is instantaneous, and his stomach turns to know he caused it. He didn’t want that. No. But he can’t, can’t, explain.
Can’t explain why birthdays are a sore subject, and that a wish for a happy one is more than he can handle: because he doesn’t know what that means for him. Another year, all a birthday ever was. Closer to finding who’d caused the destruction.
Another year closer…
“Forgive me, then, for showing some concern.”
Matt blinks and Becker is standing, turning his back and walking from the room, and before he knows what he’s doing Matt is standing, too, taking a stumbling step towards the man who is still walking from the room.
“No!”
He’s still walking away.
“Wait!”
Becker turns, jaw set, no more warmth in his eyes. How different his expression is from just a few seconds ago, when he’d come in to say words he didn’t know would have such an effect on Matthew.
“I can’t explain. I want to, but…” His breath leaves him and his eyes find the wall slightly to the left of Becker, not quite fast enough to miss the way his expression changes, brow going up ever so slightly.
“You can’t.” There’s that hint of doubt in his voice that has Matt sighing in frustration, because he wants nothing more than for Becker to believe him, to trust him. He wasn’t lying when he told Becker that he trusted him. Becker takes a single step towards him, and stops. “Why don’t I believe you, Matthew?”
“Listen,” He says, needing to make him understand. “Birthdays are a bad subject with me.”
“Oh?”
Becker’s still pushing him. Subtle, but the push is still there, and he can’t run away from it without running from Becker, too.
He has to stop running.
“I don’t have good birthdays.” He admits, watches Becker’s face soften. “They’re not good memories.” That’s not a lie all the way through, because they aren’t good memories even if he’s fond of them and they’re not the memories he wishes he had, he wouldn’t change them for the world. He wouldn’t switch out his Dad for another, even if he’d have liked for their situation to be different, wishes that they’d been born into this time period instead of their own, needing to take on the responsibility of saving humanity.
There must have been something on his face - some sort of desperation that he let slip through the barrier of inexpressiveness, because when Becker takes a step closer and slips an arm around his shoulder, there are no questions asked. He allows himself another brief moment of weakness, head resting on Becker’s shoulder for the smallest of seconds. Matt breathes out, slowly.
“Ah.” Becker says, and it sounds a lot like understanding. “I could fix that.” It sounds a lot like it’s not the first time he said it, not the first time he’s tried to fix something like this, but Matt doesn’t want to think about that, doesn’t want to think about who was here before him and whether or not Becker still thinks about them.
“I’ll take you out and get you properly pissed.” The offer is tantalizing. “If I’m pissed enough by the end of the night, I’ll have sung you happy birthday in public and we’ll both be thoroughly embarrassed, and neither of us will remember it in the morning.”
He doesn’t have time to contemplate before Becker is speaking again.
“Or we could go back to my place. Turn on the telly and watch whatever’s on, and I’ll give you a incredible birthday present.”
But he can’t accept either of those before he does something else. He knows this suddenly as surely as if the idea had been spoken to him out loud.
“I’ll trust your judgement and let you decide. But there’s somewhere I need to go first. Someone I need to visit.”
Becker gives his shoulder a squeeze. “Someone you lost?”
He swallows, a bit fearful in saying the words.
“Yeah.” His voice lowers until it’s a whisper. “My dad.”
Becker kisses his temple. “Tell me where to drive.”