(no subject)
Title: Moving On
Fandom: Primeval
Characters/Pairing: Becker/Ditzy, past!Ditzy/Ryan, past!Connor/Nick
Rating: PG-13 (sorry)
Word Count: 930
A/N: This was intended as a birthday present for the wonderful fififolle, but I'm not exactly on good terms with my Primeval muse atm so this is ridiculously late. I still hope you like it.
A broken arm, a few broken ribs, a liberal amount of bruises, a flesh wound, a minor burn, a stray bullet wound (superficial), three fatalities (passersby). Just the end of a sadly all too regular crap week and Ditzy wishes he could just forget about it all. Except it’s his job to catalogue all their failures and tend to them. Sometimes he hates his job almost as much as he loves it. Sometimes he has nightmares of being stuck in a morgue where all corpses have Ryan’s face and he wakes drenched in sweat, shaking. Just the thought that tonight might be one of those nights makes him nauseous.
The door opens and Ditzy knows who it is without having to turn around - only one person dares come into the infirmary without knocking.
“They’re throwing me a ‘cheer up’ surprise party. Fancy coming?” Connor says, his voice still lacking its old lightness, and Ditzy hates that after a month he’s almost getting used to it.
“Someone’s missing the point of a surprise party here,” Ditzy throws Connor a curious look. Connor just shrugs - he doesn’t even try for a smile.
“Will you come?” he asks, obviously desperate for Ditzy’s level-headed presence. Ditzy for once has no wish to spend the night with those he keeps patching up on a daily basis but he doesn’t have the heart to say no, and he could fucking use a drink anyway.
***
Ditzy wraps his arms around himself on the cold street as he’s waiting for his cab to arrive. The party had been broken up by one of Connor’s neighbours threatening to call the police, way too early for some of them and not early enough for Connor who seemed to be relieved when the guy next door rang. Most of the others are debating feverishly where to go to continue the party but Ditzy can’t wait to get away from all that forced cheerfulness.
“Rescue me,” a voice says and Becker stands next to him.
“Not enjoying the party, Captain?” Ditzy teases. Becker snorts.
“If I have to hear one more of Lyle’s jokes I might just throw myself in front of a raptor.”
“I’ll write a heartfelt eulogy,” Ditzy grins. Becker smiles but doesn’t say anything until the cab arrives.
“Fancy a quiet drink at my place?”
“We’ve had too much to drink already,” Ditzy says and winces as he has an unwelcome flashback of saying that same line to Ryan once, who just laughed and said “You’re still coherent, so we clearly have not.”
Becker laughs too, but it’s not bright and cheeky as Ryan’s had been but tired and bitter.
“After the week we had?” he says. “I don’t think so.”
***
Becker’s mouth tastes like good whiskey and exhaustion and Ditzy can’t quite make himself push the other man away. It feels wrong kissing him, HIM who already took so much that once belonged to Ryan, that was rightfully Ryan’s. But it’s been almost a year and Ditzy longs for genuine closeness, not just quick fucks that mean nothing so he doesn’t have to feel like he’s cheating on Ryan’s memory.
Still, when Becker places a warm palm on the bulge in Ditzy’s trousers, the medic pulls away.
“I... think I should go.”
Becker smiles. “Stay. I’d quite like you to fuck me.”
Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe that warm smile, maybe something entirely different, but Ditzy finds himself nodding without hesitance.
***
It’s been three weeks since that night, three weeks since Ditzy behaved like a first class idiot by disappearing before Becker woke up. They haven’t spoken about it, though Becker obviously wanted to at first, but he got the hint fast enough. Luckily, even if he’s hurt by Ditzy’s attitude, he’s good at hiding it.
“When will you stop being loyal to a dead man?” Connor asks over beer in Cutter’s still cluttered flat that they are supposed to sort out and never will at this rate. Ditzy tenses. Grief has made Connor more perceptive and almost cruelly straightforward.
“When will you?” Ditzy asks back. It’s not fair, Ryan has been gone almost a year, Cutter only died a month ago but he doesn’t care, he’s in a bad mood. Connor doesn’t show any emotion.
“You like him,” he says like he’s about a thousand years old and has already seen everything.
“Fuck off,” Ditzy says but there’s no venom in his voice, he almost sounds contemplative.
***
“We should talk.”
Becker’s voice makes Ditzy freeze. He locks the medicine cabinet and starts towards the door without saying a word, but before he could make it Becker grabs his arm.
“I asked Connor to lock us in until we work this out.”
Ditzy almost laughs at the matter of fact way Becker says that, as if this was the only logical conclusion to their predicament.
“Listen,” Becker says looking straight into Ditzy’s eyes. “I might not get another chance at saying this, so feel free to punch me for it but hear me out. Ryan is dead. I know he meant a lot to you but you can’t cling to a memory for the rest of your life. I’m not trying to replace him, all I’m asking is a chance.”
Ditzy is uncharacteristically silent for a long time, and Becker doesn’t push him.
“I don’t know...” Ditzy start but Becker cuts him off.
“You don’t have to decide now. I’ll wait.”
Ditzy frowns. “Why would you want to?”
Becker’s only answer is a small, almost chaste kiss on Ditzy’s lips and then he’s gone.
Fandom: Primeval
Characters/Pairing: Becker/Ditzy, past!Ditzy/Ryan, past!Connor/Nick
Rating: PG-13 (sorry)
Word Count: 930
A/N: This was intended as a birthday present for the wonderful fififolle, but I'm not exactly on good terms with my Primeval muse atm so this is ridiculously late. I still hope you like it.
A broken arm, a few broken ribs, a liberal amount of bruises, a flesh wound, a minor burn, a stray bullet wound (superficial), three fatalities (passersby). Just the end of a sadly all too regular crap week and Ditzy wishes he could just forget about it all. Except it’s his job to catalogue all their failures and tend to them. Sometimes he hates his job almost as much as he loves it. Sometimes he has nightmares of being stuck in a morgue where all corpses have Ryan’s face and he wakes drenched in sweat, shaking. Just the thought that tonight might be one of those nights makes him nauseous.
The door opens and Ditzy knows who it is without having to turn around - only one person dares come into the infirmary without knocking.
“They’re throwing me a ‘cheer up’ surprise party. Fancy coming?” Connor says, his voice still lacking its old lightness, and Ditzy hates that after a month he’s almost getting used to it.
“Someone’s missing the point of a surprise party here,” Ditzy throws Connor a curious look. Connor just shrugs - he doesn’t even try for a smile.
“Will you come?” he asks, obviously desperate for Ditzy’s level-headed presence. Ditzy for once has no wish to spend the night with those he keeps patching up on a daily basis but he doesn’t have the heart to say no, and he could fucking use a drink anyway.
***
Ditzy wraps his arms around himself on the cold street as he’s waiting for his cab to arrive. The party had been broken up by one of Connor’s neighbours threatening to call the police, way too early for some of them and not early enough for Connor who seemed to be relieved when the guy next door rang. Most of the others are debating feverishly where to go to continue the party but Ditzy can’t wait to get away from all that forced cheerfulness.
“Rescue me,” a voice says and Becker stands next to him.
“Not enjoying the party, Captain?” Ditzy teases. Becker snorts.
“If I have to hear one more of Lyle’s jokes I might just throw myself in front of a raptor.”
“I’ll write a heartfelt eulogy,” Ditzy grins. Becker smiles but doesn’t say anything until the cab arrives.
“Fancy a quiet drink at my place?”
“We’ve had too much to drink already,” Ditzy says and winces as he has an unwelcome flashback of saying that same line to Ryan once, who just laughed and said “You’re still coherent, so we clearly have not.”
Becker laughs too, but it’s not bright and cheeky as Ryan’s had been but tired and bitter.
“After the week we had?” he says. “I don’t think so.”
***
Becker’s mouth tastes like good whiskey and exhaustion and Ditzy can’t quite make himself push the other man away. It feels wrong kissing him, HIM who already took so much that once belonged to Ryan, that was rightfully Ryan’s. But it’s been almost a year and Ditzy longs for genuine closeness, not just quick fucks that mean nothing so he doesn’t have to feel like he’s cheating on Ryan’s memory.
Still, when Becker places a warm palm on the bulge in Ditzy’s trousers, the medic pulls away.
“I... think I should go.”
Becker smiles. “Stay. I’d quite like you to fuck me.”
Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe that warm smile, maybe something entirely different, but Ditzy finds himself nodding without hesitance.
***
It’s been three weeks since that night, three weeks since Ditzy behaved like a first class idiot by disappearing before Becker woke up. They haven’t spoken about it, though Becker obviously wanted to at first, but he got the hint fast enough. Luckily, even if he’s hurt by Ditzy’s attitude, he’s good at hiding it.
“When will you stop being loyal to a dead man?” Connor asks over beer in Cutter’s still cluttered flat that they are supposed to sort out and never will at this rate. Ditzy tenses. Grief has made Connor more perceptive and almost cruelly straightforward.
“When will you?” Ditzy asks back. It’s not fair, Ryan has been gone almost a year, Cutter only died a month ago but he doesn’t care, he’s in a bad mood. Connor doesn’t show any emotion.
“You like him,” he says like he’s about a thousand years old and has already seen everything.
“Fuck off,” Ditzy says but there’s no venom in his voice, he almost sounds contemplative.
***
“We should talk.”
Becker’s voice makes Ditzy freeze. He locks the medicine cabinet and starts towards the door without saying a word, but before he could make it Becker grabs his arm.
“I asked Connor to lock us in until we work this out.”
Ditzy almost laughs at the matter of fact way Becker says that, as if this was the only logical conclusion to their predicament.
“Listen,” Becker says looking straight into Ditzy’s eyes. “I might not get another chance at saying this, so feel free to punch me for it but hear me out. Ryan is dead. I know he meant a lot to you but you can’t cling to a memory for the rest of your life. I’m not trying to replace him, all I’m asking is a chance.”
Ditzy is uncharacteristically silent for a long time, and Becker doesn’t push him.
“I don’t know...” Ditzy start but Becker cuts him off.
“You don’t have to decide now. I’ll wait.”
Ditzy frowns. “Why would you want to?”
Becker’s only answer is a small, almost chaste kiss on Ditzy’s lips and then he’s gone.