Threshold: Relaxing
Title: Relaxing
Word Count: 250
Fandom: Threshold
Summary: Nigel takes a moment to relax.
Pairing: Nigel+Lucas
Relaxing
Nigel is sitting in the break room, a bowl of baby carrots on the little table beside his chair and a tennis ball in his hand. He tosses it towards the wall in front of him, catching it as it bounces back, before sending it on its way. The rhythmic sound makes him feel relaxed, and he starts eating the baby carrots at his side. Unlike some people, he does not eat them all at once; preferring to nibble at the raw vegetable until it’s only a centimetre long - then he chucks it in his mouth and starts anew.
The familiarity of the routine soothes him, and his mind starts to wander away from DNA analyses, toothy vegetables, and aliens. He remembers the ‘60’s, when things were a lot less hurried - when he wasn’t the man responsible for finding a cure for alienhood. Simple days when he didn’t have three ex-wives breathing down his neck, hassling him for alimony.
Lucas walks in, and he opens his eyes (thought he doesn’t remember closing them). He doesn’t throw the ball for a moment, preferring to watch the younger man fidget as he tries to decide whether or not he wants coffee. He wonders how those deft fingers would feel against his skin, what kind of expression Lucas’ blue eyes would hold if they kissed.
Trapped most likely.
With a sigh, he puts the plastic lid back over his carrot bowl, and scolds himself for having such wistful thoughts about a married man.
Word Count: 250
Fandom: Threshold
Summary: Nigel takes a moment to relax.
Pairing: Nigel+Lucas
Relaxing
Nigel is sitting in the break room, a bowl of baby carrots on the little table beside his chair and a tennis ball in his hand. He tosses it towards the wall in front of him, catching it as it bounces back, before sending it on its way. The rhythmic sound makes him feel relaxed, and he starts eating the baby carrots at his side. Unlike some people, he does not eat them all at once; preferring to nibble at the raw vegetable until it’s only a centimetre long - then he chucks it in his mouth and starts anew.
The familiarity of the routine soothes him, and his mind starts to wander away from DNA analyses, toothy vegetables, and aliens. He remembers the ‘60’s, when things were a lot less hurried - when he wasn’t the man responsible for finding a cure for alienhood. Simple days when he didn’t have three ex-wives breathing down his neck, hassling him for alimony.
Lucas walks in, and he opens his eyes (thought he doesn’t remember closing them). He doesn’t throw the ball for a moment, preferring to watch the younger man fidget as he tries to decide whether or not he wants coffee. He wonders how those deft fingers would feel against his skin, what kind of expression Lucas’ blue eyes would hold if they kissed.
Trapped most likely.
With a sigh, he puts the plastic lid back over his carrot bowl, and scolds himself for having such wistful thoughts about a married man.