Primeval fic: Crookening out the Straightened Road
Title: Crookening out the straightened road
Word Count: 3360
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Lester/Danny
Summary: One day, one date, 15 hours and 27 pubs. Are Lester and Danny up to the Circle Line challenge?
A/N: For Fredbassett
This is the point where Fred has promised to look surprised. It’ll be quite unfeigned as she tries to match her fic wants - characters being competent, hurt/comfort, snuggling - to the story. They are all there but in a squint, blink rapidly and look sideways sort of fashion. The base prompt is ‘The night we went to Glastonbury by way of Goodwin Sands’ from the poem by GK Chesterton. Title inspiration comes from the same.
AN2: Beta thanks to Fififolle who pretended that there was nothing she’d like more than a tonne of fact checking with a tight deadline. I owe you a large one. Pick your pub! If there’s anything bad in the text it’s because I insisted on keeping it or I put it there in the final rewrite.
Fred - Happy Christmas. May your glass always be full.
*
CROOKENING OUT THE STRAIGHTENED ROAD
“You’re my Secret Santa?” Lester allowed his lip to curl upwards in a finely judged sneer. This was certainly not what he had planned.
The expression was wasted on Danny who merely grinned back enjoying his discomfort. “Yes, James, I am. And you needn’t think I was doing the dance of joy when I found out. I asked Lorraine to fix me up with Sarah.”
Lester sighed. At least Christmas, with its enforced jollity and tacky tinsel decorations, came but once a year. He allowed himself a quietly resigned, “Humbug.”
Danny’s grin got wider.
Human Resources had dipped their spidery fingers into the management systems of the ARC and decreed that more needed to be done to foster goodwill amongst employees. Lester would happily have buggered goodwill and then kicked it out of the building but there were budgets to be considered and so a certain amount of hoop-jumping was necessary. There had been a memo: ‘The ARC needed to do more to foster inter-departmental and inter-strata relationships.’
Strata. They couldn’t even get the sodding word right. Lester had composed a two word email to the director of Human Resources of which one of the words was stratum. It was perhaps fortunate that Connor had somehow blocked the entire building’s internet access before it could be sent.
Accordingly, this year’s Secret Santa involved paired participants and a night out with your Santa partner. That should be enough to satisfy the evil hellhounds at Ministry Personnel.
Lester had given strict instructions that Lorraine was to match him with Jenny. Madama Butterfly at the Royal Opera House had had very good reviews and would be a perfect outing. Or would have been had Lorraine carried out her orders successfully. He would be having words with his assistant come morning. He hoped Lorraine hadn’t made a similar mess of everyone else’s pairings by pulling them out of a hat or some other such misguided egalitarian nonsense.
“So I’m thinking that we do the Circle Line pub crawl,” said Danny with a certain amount of challenge in his voice. He perched casually on the edge of Lester’s desk drumming one heavy boot repeatedly against the metal supports.
Lester did a swift calculation. There were 36 stops on the Circle Line. They’d either be dead or dead drunk before finishing. Lester had not done a pub crawl since leaving Oxford and even there he’d tended to stay on the safe side of single figures drinking. Control was a concept that weighed heavily in Lester’s life. He doubted his system could cope with 36 of anything. Still, there was no way he was backing out of the challenge. Danny must have known that and read some of Lester’s misgivings in his face. At any rate his subordinate’s next words were slightly reassuring and he ceased the repetitive heel-kick torture.
“I’m thinking the classic circular route with the original 27 stops,” Danny clarified.
Lester pursed his lips and blew out. “That makes it so much more reasonable. Has anyone actually completed this challenge? Do we need to inform the Guinness Book of Records or just pre-book our liver checks with the ARC medics?”
Danny’s response was a half-smile that combined both fondness and a certain amount of pity. “Really, James? Plenty of people have done it. Me, for one,” he said, prodding his thumb to his chest. “Well, me and a group of mates. We were in our first term at university and thought we were invincible. We had t-shirts printed and everything. I always promised to do it with Patrick when he was old enough, but there you go. He’s not here. But you are and I fancy trying the challenge again for old times’ sake. What do you say?”
A number of sarcastic comments had come to mind at the start of this speech but Lester bit them back, saving them for when Danny finished talking and he could deploy them to maximum effect. However, now the moment had come he had no desire to utter them at all. He’d often been accused of coldness but he’d never taken any pleasure in watching someone else’s pain. After more than a decade, Patrick was still an open wound. Worse, he was a hurt that Danny was determined would never heal over. But sympathy would not be welcome.
Instead, Lester nodded. “Older, but clearly not wiser, Danny. Fine. Circle Line Challenge it is. But we’re starting at breakfast and taking the day over it. A half counts as a drink. If at any point I decide I wish to stop I shall do so with no recriminations from you. And, finally, this does not count as a business expense, so don’t even try to claim it back.”
Danny’s face wasn’t made for melancholy. As Lester spoke, the introspection visibly lifted from his colleague’s somewhat craggy features. When he had finished Danny bounced up with his usual enthusiasm and ran his fingers through his rust-coloured hair. “Ha! Good for you, James. Becker said I was wasting my time but I knew that a man who wears ties as dangerous as yours would be up for it! That’s ten quid he owes me. It’s a date, Santa-mate - breakfast and all.”
Lester watched Danny leave the office before going to check on the state of his desk. As he had suspected there were scuff marks on the metal. He polished them away with a soft cloth and wondered what he had let himself in for.
*
9.00: Victoria
Naturally Danny arrived dressed in a red and white Santa outfit with a wide black belt and red pompom hat. Lester refused to be embarrassed. However, he also refused to wear the matching Santa hat that his ‘date’ had helpfully provided. Lester himself had dressed casually in jeans with a pale blue shirt and a darker blue cashmere sweater. For a moment Danny’s eyes widened in what looked like admiration but then the look was gone and Lester thought he must have been mistaken. He thought he knew Danny’s type. And it wasn’t Lester.
They stopped at Pret a Manger and had hot drinks and croissants. Lester flatly refused to enter a Wetherspoons for the traditional pre-crawl fry-up Danny wanted. Danny complained that this was against the spirit of the challenge and produced two miniatures of Glenfiddich. Lester eyed him over the rim of his mug of Earl Grey. However, he took the small bottle obediently and chugged it back. Danny looked on approvingly and swallowed down his own measure.
The spirits hit Lester’s stomach with a warm glow. They clashed with the Earl Grey. He took another bite of pastry with the idea of giving his system something to work on. It was going to be a long day.
*
9.30-10.10:
Sloane Square - Duke of Wellington
South Kensington - Zetland Arms
“I can’t believe you live in London and don’t have an Oyster card,” said Danny, as he ordered the first of their drinks at the Duke of Wellington.
“I have a company car,” replied Lester with smug satisfaction. It was true that driving the Jaguar through London’s crowded streets was probably a slower method of transportation than taking the underground but it gave him privacy and a feeling of being in charge of events.
They were the only customers at the Duke of Wellington. The barman raised his eyebrows as he pulled their half pints of Bishops Finger but did not comment. His world-weary face suggested that he had seen it all before. Danny gave them ten minutes to drink up before hustling them on to the Zetland Arms at South Kensington.
*
10.25-10.45:
Gloucester Road - Stanhope Arms
When the children were little, Lester took them to London every Christmas to see a musical and visit one of the sights. They alternated between the Science Museum, the Natural History Museum and London Zoo. The children were teenagers now and would come up and stay with Lester at the flat the day after Boxing Day. Museums were no longer on the itinerary and Hamleys had been replaced by Selfridges as the must-visit shop. Lester still asked what gifts they wanted but the answer was always money.
*
11.10-12.15:
High Street Kensington - The Britannia
Notting Hill Gate - The Prince Albert
Bayswater - Black Lion
His wife - ex-wife - loved Notting Hill. Hugh Grant was her perfect man. They had been to see it at the cinema when it first came out. After the divorce Lester had allowed himself one big emotional gesture. He quietly snapped the dvd in two.
“I always hated that film,” said Danny.
“Me too,” agreed Lester.
As they headed for Bayswater Danny made a very rude joke about Prince Albert. Lester laughed before he could remember to stop himself.
*
12.25-1.15:
Paddington - Pride of Paddington
Edgeware Road - The Chapel
Paddington was packed with families coming to London for Christmas activities. Danny saw a mother struggling with a pushchair and immediately bounded through the crowds to help her carry it down the escalator. It was the kind of thing Danny did.
Lester walked into an immaculately dressed lady while staring at his companion’s Good Samaritan antics.
“Watch where you’re stepping, you clumsy fuckwit,” she snapped in an upper-class accent, brushing away any attempt at an apology.
“Go buy yourself some manners,” snapped Lester in return.
God, he hated the tube.
*
1.30-1.55:
Baker Street - The Metropolitan Bar
By this point Lester had got over his Wetherspoons snobbery and was happy to go for the nearest pub and save time. He was pleasantly surprised by some of the beers on offer and, in other circumstances, might have been disposed to linger. Danny insisted they drink up their halves of Shropshire Gold and then proceeded to waste fifteen minutes by demanding they go and look at Sherlock Holmes’ house. Lester did not bother to protest. Not even when Danny wanted his picture taken outside the museum swapping his Santa hat for a Deerstalker borrowed from some American tourists.
*
2.15-2.50:
Great Portland Street - The Green Man
Euston Square - The Bree Louise
“Don’t move,” instructed Danny as they emerged from the steps at Euston Square. He ran off in the direction of Euston Station. Lester positioned himself against a convenient tree and tried to calculate how long their crawl would take in total. He was still working out times, stops and sums when Danny reappeared with a large paper bag bearing a jaunty logo.
“Oh no!” said Lester. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“Got to have some food to soak up all the beer,” said Danny, unwrapping a Big Mac and consuming a good third of it in one massive bite. He held the remainder out suggestively. Lester shook his head. When it came to the fries he wasn’t so strong. He was very hungry. It was true, he told himself, they did need carbs. Just the one time couldn’t hurt. The fries were delicious. Hot, salty and crispy.
They ate quickly. Danny licked his fingers. Lester wiped his fastidiously on a paper napkin. Danny balled their rubbish and shot it into a bin basketball style complete with a small lap of honour. Lester rolled his eyes.
“Don’t worry,” said Danny. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
*
3.10-4.10:
King’s Cross - The Dolphin
Farrindon - The Jerusalem Tavern
The young man was nervous. It was not the cocky nervous that Lester had become used to seeing from the procession of interns that used their parents’ contacts to get a stint working for the Government but the about-to-do-something-stupid nervous that was frequently exhibited by those unlucky enough to come in contact with a creature from an anomaly. A sideways glance revealed the presence of a ticket inspector. The uniformed official was almost upon them.
“Is that your ticket?” asked Lester, pointing at a small square of card with the toe of one polished shoe.”
“No. Dunno. It must be,” replied the youth in succession.
The on-the-spot fine cost him £80.
*
4.25-5.30:
Barbican - Ye Olde Red Cow
Moorgate- The Globe
Danny waved his Oyster Card and stood on the opposite side of the barrier high-fiving random passers-by as Lester queued to buy a second one day travel card. The station was predictably packed and Lester found himself mentally calculating escape routes for various disasters. An anomaly in this place would be a blood bath. He shuddered and made a note to recheck the emergency plans for major transport hubs.
“Up to the left, emergency exit. I reckon we could have this hall cleared in ten minutes tops,” said Danny as Lester collected his ticket from the machine.
Lester didn’t ask how Danny knew what he had been thinking. He surveyed the milling, oblivious crowds. “We need to get that down to five.”
*
5.50-6.15
Liverpool Street - Dirty Dicks
Danny’s dick was legendary in the ARC. They stood side-by-side at the urinals pissing away the most recent beer with Lester looking determinedly straight ahead.
“Nice cock,” observed Danny as they left the pub.
*
6.30-7.20:
Aldgate - The Still & Star
Tower Hill - Bavarian Beerhouse
Lester hadn’t felt this way in years - this slightly guilty and furtive longing to give in to temptation. If only he was in a position to indulge. But this was not the place for such things. Danny mustn’t know. He would only laugh.
He really, really fancied a kebab.
*
7.30-8.15:
Monument - The Folly
“He was my little brother. I was supposed to protect him.”
“You did your best.”
“And it wasn’t good enough.”
“Sometimes it isn’t.”
“I will never accept that. He’s out there and I will find him.”
“I believe you. But you may not like what you find.”
*
8.25-9.30:
Cannon Street - The Cannon
Mansion House - O’Neill’s
Blackfriars - The Black Friar
There was a 15 minute wait for the train at Blackfriars - the Circle Line living right down to its reputation for slowness. Lester occupied the time watching a small brown mouse wander randomly up and down between the rails. Eventually a warm breeze and the tell-tale thrum of the tracks alerted him to the approaching train.
“Behind the yellow line,” admonished Danny, pulling him back as the first carriages swept by.
*
9.45-10.00:
Temple - The Edgar Wallace
By word association Temple bought the ARC back to mind. Lester was, of course, off duty but he would have been alerted to any anomaly related incidents.
Still he took his phone out and checked just in case he had missed anything. It took him three attempts to correctly type in his passcode. Perhaps there was something wrong with his touchscreen? Lorraine would have to get it looked at.
“No messages from home,” he reported when he had finally accessed his data.
“You needn’t sound so disappointed.”
“I’m not,” said Lester, and found he was speaking the truth. “I’m enjoying today. I’m sorry you couldn’t take Sarah but I’m not sorry I’m here.”
Danny paused to wave at a party of tourists before replying. He had endless amounts of goodwill for strangers and had paused to take a series of group shots for them all. Eventually the cameras were put away and the tourists drifted away to their own area. Danny moved to sit by Lester who had been watching from one of the metal benches lining the station. “I wouldn’t have asked Sarah to do this.”
“But you asked me.”
“Yes, James, that I did.”
*
10.10-10.25:
Embankment - The Ship & Shovell
At Embankment Lester bought a copy of the Big Issue from a teenage girl with dreadlocks, a nose piercing and a beautifully detailed tattoo of a spider’s web across her neck and shoulder. He had no change and so was forced to give the seller £20. Danny had gone ahead to The Ship & Shovell and ordered two pints of Dorset beer. It was nice in the pub, warm and cosy with its old-fashioned wood panelling and snug alcoves. Lester looked uncertainly at his pint glass. He wasn’t entirely sure how much he had drunk but he suspected a pint might be too much at this stage. Danny picked his up and downed it in one. Lester met his eyes and tried to match the feat. This proved to a mistake. Danny thumped him on the back and held on to him longer than was strictly necessary as he coughed and choked and spluttered.
After they left the pub he realised that he’d left his Big Issue behind. Not that mattered - he’d already read it earlier in the week.
*
10.35-10.50:
Westminster - The Westminster Arms
They exited by Big Ben and the Palace of Westminster. There was all the pomp and grandeur of government lit up in postcard splendour, a visual representation of power and responsibility.
Lester shut his eyes and pictured his desk.
There was a small pile of cards waiting to be written. The cards were copies of old masters - nothing showy, nothing overtly Christmassy that might give offence. They were intended for the closest relatives of employees of the ARC who had lost their lives in its service. He dreaded writing them. Finding phrases to sum up what an individual had meant to the team, dragging up remembered smiles and inconsequential conversations took more effort than a dozen ministerial briefings. He knew the recipients would be as likely to feel anger or bitterness as derive any comfort. But whatever else they felt they would know that their loved ones had not been forgotten. Lorraine knew better than to disturb him.
“Why do you bother?” she had asked him.
He had stared at the pile. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”
*
11.00-11.20:
St James’s Park - The Sanctuary House
Whiskys again. It seemed an appropriate finish to the day. Thinking back, Lester found the pubs were merging into a blur of clinking glasses and dark wooden tables, white tiled bathrooms and interchangeable stairways. He leaned into Danny. But that was okay as Danny seemed to be leaning into him. They balanced.
“We did it,” Lester said, not caring that he was stating the obvious. It was worth stating.
“Never doubted that we would,” said Danny. He spoiled the moment rather by falling over a paving stone and ending up sprawled on the ground. Two smartly- attired couples passed them by tutting. Lester started to laugh because it all suddenly seemed very, very funny. He reached down and pulled Danny up by the fake white fur on his sleeve. He thought perhaps that they should get a t-shirt printed.
*
11.45: Victoria
Victoria approached. Lester reluctantly straightened up from where he had been using Danny as a pillow.
“Can we get out now?”
“Another drink?” slurred Danny.
“Only if it’s at home,” said Lester. “That offer does include you.”
Danny looked at him, bleary-eyed and affectionate. “I’d love to. There’s one condition.”
Lester made a small snorting sound and gave in gracefully. It wasn’t quite a ‘ho, ho, ho’ but it was the nearest he’d ever come to such a thing. “Alright, I’ll wear the damned hat.”
Danny fished the red felt hat with its large white pompom out of one patch pocket. He placed it carefully on Lester’s head. Then, with the equal carefulness of the exceedingly drunk, he cupped Lester’s jaw and bought their lips together. As first kisses went, it was clumsy and uncoordinated and the bumping of the tube train made it difficult to retain contact until Lester inserted his tongue in Danny’s mouth and that had the effect of anchoring them together. At one end of the carriage a group of revellers started to sing carols. There was some applause and cheering.
In the event they missed their stop and had to walk back from Gloucester Road. The air was cool on Lester’s face. Rain was falling lightly. At some point Danny had taken his hand and now swung it back and forth with each step. Around them Christmas windows twinkled, displaying non-essential goods to non-existent shoppers. The lights reflected on the damp pavements and the road’s oily puddles. They would probably be drenched by the time they made it his flat. Lester didn’t mind at all.