Primeval fic: A Modest Proposal (Second Life verse)
Title: A Modest Proposal
Disclaimer: I do not own Primeval. I don’t even own feral Stephen.
A/N: As lena7142 was writing the amazingness that was Point of Origin, I had the honor of listening to her developing ideas. The more she wrote, the more I loved it and then suddenly I was writing ficlets along the lines of The Continued Adventures of Feral Stephen. Now to be known more officially as the Second Life Verse. So much thanks to Lena for her help in providing me prompts, beta’ing and creating feral Stephen to start with. (And just for generally being awesome. Because she IS awesome.)
Summary: Everyone is glad Stephen is back, except for one small problem...
-o-
Connor bit his lip.
For a moment, Cutter tried to ignore him. It had worked occasionally; by waiting, sometimes he could outlast Connor’s attention span.
Connor inched forward, hedging by making a sound in the back of his throat.
Cutter persisted. It wasn’t like he didn’t have any work to do. Being absent from this world for a year, he found his things in total disarray. Getting everything back together was time consuming and tedious and--
Connor cleared his throat.
Cutter sighed, glancing up at the younger man. It was time consuming and tedious and clearly not meant to happen any time soon.
When Cutter finally met Connor’s eyes, he looked hopeful.
“Something you need?” Cutter asked.
Connor seemed to startle, which was ridiculous. Which was Connor. “Oh, I didn’t meant to impose--”
Cutter just rolled his eyes. “Connor, don’t waste my time.”
“Well, you see, some of the other guys around the lab and I--”
Cutter’s eyes narrowed. This was not a good start.
Connor seemed to pale but he pressed on. “--we were just wondering if you could possibly do something about -- um. Stephen.”
Cutter shook his head, confused. “What about Stephen?”
The other man had been spending a great deal of time around the ARC, mostly because Lester hadn’t managed to get all his paperwork quite in order and Claudia seemed to think having a man who had died back out on the streets would be a bad idea until they could get some kind of story in place.
“Well,” Connor said. “It’s just, you see. We’re all really glad he’s back. Or well, this version of him is back.”
Cutter stared at Connor hard, not sure if he wanted to shake the lad to make him speak faster or if he wanted to just shake him until he stopped talking altogether.
“I mean, we know he’s been through a lot and it’s quite an adjustment.”
Adjustment was an understatement. Nine years was longer than most people thought, and being totally devoid of human contact had taken its toll on Stephen emotionally and intellectually. He was attuned to different things; responded in inexplicable ways.
“It totally makes sense that he’s a little behind on his grooming habits,” Connor continued. “And really, I think the beard looks kind of nice on him. Not all guys can pull something off like that. And I think the wild hair is kind of wicked, you know? Sort of rock star.”
Cutter was fairly certain Connor was trying to say something, but he hadn’t been able to figure it out just yet.
“And I actually envy his eating style,” Connor said. “All hands -- so cool. Took me until I was thirteen to figure out chopsticks, and his way is so much easier.”
Stephen had also shown himself to be uncomfortable with other people cooking for him or eating food he couldn’t identify, which made their extensive dining in the ARC cafeteria rather difficult. But not as difficult as explaining to people passing by why Stephen had just eaten a bug off the floor.
“And the growling thing -- I mean it takes some getting used to, and I’ve come to look over my shoulder when I enter a room so he doesn’t give me a total fright--”
Cutter sighed in total exasperation. “What was it you wanted me to do about Stephen?”
Connor blinked, face going blank. Then he nodded. “We just were wondering when he was going to start wearing clothes,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong, he looks...good, I guess. If you’re into that kind of thing, which I’m not, by the way, but I suppose I can see the attraction--”
Cutter’s head was starting to hurt. “Connor!”
“Right!” Connor said, back on track. “See, with him around looking like...that, some of us are starting to look pale by comparison.”
Cutter glanced at Stephen. He was working in the next lab, leaned over a table, easily visible through the window. “I don’t know if it’s that noticeable.”
Connor gave him a look, then glanced toward Stephen, who was not only working, but wearing nothing but his loin cloth. He’d been offered clothing, of course. All sorts of clothing, but somehow he always ended up back in that patch of animal hide, precariously placed over his nether regions.
“Mostly,” Cutter amended feebly.
“Sure, when he’s standing still, but someone gave him access to the gym!” Connor said. “I can’t get Abby to take me seriously when that is walking around.”
Cutter looked at Stephen again, tried to see him objectively. It wasn’t easy to think about him that way, the rugged planes of his chest, the sun streaked hair.
His face crinkled and he shook his head, looking back to Connor. “I still don’t think it’s so distracting. We can get used to it.”
Connor raised his eyebrows. “Claudia’s been ogling him just as much as the rest,” he said.
Cutter frowned.
Connor nodded seriously. “She likes his arse.”
Cutter’s frown deepened and he glanced back toward Stephen. Then he thought about his own backside and how it filled out a pair of jeans. Claudia had said she liked it...
But he looked at Stephen again. He really couldn’t compete, not with the hair and the abs and the--
Cutter nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Thanks, Cutter,” Connor said, sounding genuinely relieved. “I really owe you one.”
As Connor went away happily, Cutter watched Stephen -- his rippled muscles, his lean physique, his radiant blue eyes -- knowing he wasn’t just doing it for Connor anymore.
Disclaimer: I do not own Primeval. I don’t even own feral Stephen.
A/N: As lena7142 was writing the amazingness that was Point of Origin, I had the honor of listening to her developing ideas. The more she wrote, the more I loved it and then suddenly I was writing ficlets along the lines of The Continued Adventures of Feral Stephen. Now to be known more officially as the Second Life Verse. So much thanks to Lena for her help in providing me prompts, beta’ing and creating feral Stephen to start with. (And just for generally being awesome. Because she IS awesome.)
Summary: Everyone is glad Stephen is back, except for one small problem...
-o-
Connor bit his lip.
For a moment, Cutter tried to ignore him. It had worked occasionally; by waiting, sometimes he could outlast Connor’s attention span.
Connor inched forward, hedging by making a sound in the back of his throat.
Cutter persisted. It wasn’t like he didn’t have any work to do. Being absent from this world for a year, he found his things in total disarray. Getting everything back together was time consuming and tedious and--
Connor cleared his throat.
Cutter sighed, glancing up at the younger man. It was time consuming and tedious and clearly not meant to happen any time soon.
When Cutter finally met Connor’s eyes, he looked hopeful.
“Something you need?” Cutter asked.
Connor seemed to startle, which was ridiculous. Which was Connor. “Oh, I didn’t meant to impose--”
Cutter just rolled his eyes. “Connor, don’t waste my time.”
“Well, you see, some of the other guys around the lab and I--”
Cutter’s eyes narrowed. This was not a good start.
Connor seemed to pale but he pressed on. “--we were just wondering if you could possibly do something about -- um. Stephen.”
Cutter shook his head, confused. “What about Stephen?”
The other man had been spending a great deal of time around the ARC, mostly because Lester hadn’t managed to get all his paperwork quite in order and Claudia seemed to think having a man who had died back out on the streets would be a bad idea until they could get some kind of story in place.
“Well,” Connor said. “It’s just, you see. We’re all really glad he’s back. Or well, this version of him is back.”
Cutter stared at Connor hard, not sure if he wanted to shake the lad to make him speak faster or if he wanted to just shake him until he stopped talking altogether.
“I mean, we know he’s been through a lot and it’s quite an adjustment.”
Adjustment was an understatement. Nine years was longer than most people thought, and being totally devoid of human contact had taken its toll on Stephen emotionally and intellectually. He was attuned to different things; responded in inexplicable ways.
“It totally makes sense that he’s a little behind on his grooming habits,” Connor continued. “And really, I think the beard looks kind of nice on him. Not all guys can pull something off like that. And I think the wild hair is kind of wicked, you know? Sort of rock star.”
Cutter was fairly certain Connor was trying to say something, but he hadn’t been able to figure it out just yet.
“And I actually envy his eating style,” Connor said. “All hands -- so cool. Took me until I was thirteen to figure out chopsticks, and his way is so much easier.”
Stephen had also shown himself to be uncomfortable with other people cooking for him or eating food he couldn’t identify, which made their extensive dining in the ARC cafeteria rather difficult. But not as difficult as explaining to people passing by why Stephen had just eaten a bug off the floor.
“And the growling thing -- I mean it takes some getting used to, and I’ve come to look over my shoulder when I enter a room so he doesn’t give me a total fright--”
Cutter sighed in total exasperation. “What was it you wanted me to do about Stephen?”
Connor blinked, face going blank. Then he nodded. “We just were wondering when he was going to start wearing clothes,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong, he looks...good, I guess. If you’re into that kind of thing, which I’m not, by the way, but I suppose I can see the attraction--”
Cutter’s head was starting to hurt. “Connor!”
“Right!” Connor said, back on track. “See, with him around looking like...that, some of us are starting to look pale by comparison.”
Cutter glanced at Stephen. He was working in the next lab, leaned over a table, easily visible through the window. “I don’t know if it’s that noticeable.”
Connor gave him a look, then glanced toward Stephen, who was not only working, but wearing nothing but his loin cloth. He’d been offered clothing, of course. All sorts of clothing, but somehow he always ended up back in that patch of animal hide, precariously placed over his nether regions.
“Mostly,” Cutter amended feebly.
“Sure, when he’s standing still, but someone gave him access to the gym!” Connor said. “I can’t get Abby to take me seriously when that is walking around.”
Cutter looked at Stephen again, tried to see him objectively. It wasn’t easy to think about him that way, the rugged planes of his chest, the sun streaked hair.
His face crinkled and he shook his head, looking back to Connor. “I still don’t think it’s so distracting. We can get used to it.”
Connor raised his eyebrows. “Claudia’s been ogling him just as much as the rest,” he said.
Cutter frowned.
Connor nodded seriously. “She likes his arse.”
Cutter’s frown deepened and he glanced back toward Stephen. Then he thought about his own backside and how it filled out a pair of jeans. Claudia had said she liked it...
But he looked at Stephen again. He really couldn’t compete, not with the hair and the abs and the--
Cutter nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll talk to him.”
“Thanks, Cutter,” Connor said, sounding genuinely relieved. “I really owe you one.”
As Connor went away happily, Cutter watched Stephen -- his rippled muscles, his lean physique, his radiant blue eyes -- knowing he wasn’t just doing it for Connor anymore.