Primeval fic: Many happy returns
Title: Many Happy Returns
Word count: 875
Rating: Universal
Characters: Leter, team
AN: Happy birthday . knitekat. Hope you have a kittitastic day. Am not much on writing atm, but here is a very tiny ficlet featuring a grumpy season one Lester.
(In the way of these things this fic is multi-tasking as Unreliable Narrator on my Primeval Bingo card.)
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Many Happy Returns
James had always hated birthdays - that relentless obligation to look like you were enjoying yourself no matter how miserable you felt inside while people you barely knew and cared about even less showered you with fake goodwill. This year had been especially trying. Not only was the divorce final but he had scored the career equivalent of being sent to Siberia with the directorship of some misbegotten project that had clearly been thought up by a post-election losing government as a final act of sabotage towards its successor. Dinosaurs for goodness sake. How very…plebeian. James thought back to which minister he had possibly offended and gave up after he had run out of fingers. So, no, this year was hardly vintage. If it had been a wine James would have poured it down the sink and smashed the bottle for good measure.
Not that it was all bad. His new team ranged from eccentric (Cutter) to insufferable (also Cutter) but they somehow managed to get the job done. James might not have picked any of them from a pile of CVs but he couldn’t imagine any of the HR approved applicants doing a better job - not that he had any intention of handing out compliments. There was no point in letting the staff become complacent. After all, you were only as good as your last creature incursion.
The team’s main flaw was a sort of boundless energy and over-enthusiasm not just for the ARC but for everything connected with it. They did not do world-weariness or sophistication. Hence this involuntary birthday celebration. No one escaped the birthday mafia.
In time-honoured workplace tradition James’ birthday collection was being managed by the team’s youngest member, Connor Temple, whose attempts to hide the collection envelope and enquiries about what Lester might like were delivered with the subtlety of an anvil. Lester could only hope that Forbidden Planet had been closed when the final collection money was added up. Or that whatever ‘collectible’ Temple had deemed suitable was made out of something breakable.
Still, needs must. It would be terrible but James would smile nicely, thank everyone and head for home where a Marks & Spencer ready meal for one lay waiting in the fridge.
And really, as days went this wasn’t the worst with only two small incidents and a single claim needed on the insurance. James made a mental note to book Hart into a speed awareness course. Ryan needed to go on one too but James was buggered if the additional expense was going on his books. SF could pay for its own personnel. It was nearly time to go home. There was only the birthday surprise to get through.
James was getting fed up with waiting when he was finally called down by Cutter to look at something or other on the computers in an obvious attempt to get him out of the way. Cutter’s attempts at casual conversation were painful, to say the least, but at last the phone rang in what was clearly some sort of signal and both Cutter and James visibly sagged with relief.
On his return (with Cutter in tow) James found the whole team gathered in his office amongst a confusion of balloons and streamers. They sang ‘Happy Birthday’ badly as he came into the room. It was both incongruous and surprisingly touching. His children had loved balloons. The divorce had been amicable but, birthday or not, the access arrangements meant the children would not see him until the weekend. It was better that way, of course, less disruptive. James swallowed against an unexpected constriction in his throat.
The triple-tiered cake had made by Loraine who was clearly as proficient at baking as at everything else. There were two cards. One, made by Abby, was in the shape of a coelurosauravus. The other, a shop bought one with a Picasso print, bore Claudia’s neat writing on the outside and small notes from everyone within. That only left the gift. James steeled himself. There was a lot of wrapping. Also someone had had the idea to sprinkle confetti between each layer of paper. James made a note to leave a slice of cake for the cleaner by way of apology. He was down to the final layer. He pulled at the paper, summoned his best fake smile, and prepared to lie.
And found he didn’t need to. The tie was silk and featured a surprisingly restrained paisley print. The label on the back said Liberty’s. James might even wear it once or twice on days where there were no important meetings. The sign it was wrapped around was equally simple with white lettering on black plastic and a metal chain to hang from. It was a little old-fashioned but to the point. He read the three words with growing pleasure and ran his fingers over the embossed letters. Who would have thought it possible? Perhaps there was more to Temple than bad hair and dubious taste in fashion.
Do Not Disturb
He considered hanging the sign up at once. But no, it was his birthday. This was his team. And they had done well. Let them have another ten minutes enjoying themselves before he threw them all out.
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