Primeval fic: Slumming It
Title: Slumming It
Author: knitekat
Word Count: ~1630
Characters: James Lester, Nick Cutter, Team.
Rating: 15
Disclaimer: Primeval belongs to Impossible Pictures. Certainly not me. Writing for fun and will replace.
A/N: For Fred for all her beta-ing and paw holding. Nick/Lester and slumming it. Thanks go to the wonderful fifi for the beta. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Sir James Lester groaned softly. Just when he'd thought the day couldn't deteriorate any further, he found it could. The room he'd been begrudgingly allocated by the bed and breakfast landlady was stuffy, dusty and smelled stale - not a surprise as the place had been shut up for the off season. He eyed the bedding with distaste, it looked like it hadn't been washed since the room had last been used and God only knew what it might be covered in and what life-forms might have bred in it. He also had no wish to think of the bill the Home Office would be charged for the privilege and pinched the bridge of his nose at the wonderful experience that awaited for him once the minister received the paperwork through for the entire cost of this anomaly.
He should have known better, his entire bloody day had been a disaster from the moment he'd woken late when his alarm had failed to go off. He'd been half-asleep and in so much of a rush he'd only realised it had been caused by a power-cut when he'd stood under the shower and been shocked awake by the freezing cold water. Without any power he couldn't have a cooked breakfast, let alone his much needed cup of coffee.
Things hadn't improved when he'd reached the ARC where he didn't even have the time to grab a coffee before the chaos had begun with the mad Professor Cutter busting in on him and demanding things Lester just couldn't countenance. Once he had sent Cutter away with a flea in his ear, Lester had smiled at Ms Wickes when she brought him in a coffee, only for it to grow cold when his phone rang and the minister almost burst his eardrum over Cutter's latest antics. The bloody man was a menace who shouldn't be allowed out in public without a minder, didn't Cutter have the slightest idea how much trouble he caused with his inability to follow simple orders or be polite to people?
When he had returned to his office with yet another fresh cup, Lester could only watch it cooling while he fielded a call from his ex-wife demanding he paid for their eldest's school trip, even though she'd married into money and he paid her more than enough to buy anything their children needed, if she'd only chose to spend it on them.
Lester sighed in relief when his phone stopped ringing and his emails stopping pinging and it finally appeared he had a breathing space to savour his much needed coffee. He knew better than to expect it to last for long, but was bitterly disappointed when he had barely managed a swallow before the ADD screamed.
Striding down to the ADD to see where the latest disaster was about to occur, Lester's hopes of just sending Cutter and his team off to deal with it faded when he saw the location. Fuck! If an anomaly opening at Balmoral wasn't bad enough, what with Cutter's total disregard for Royal property and proper etiquette when dealing with them, having an anomaly opening when the Royal Family would be in residence was just asking for trouble. Lester closed his eyes and drank the rest of his coffee almost without tasting it, he just couldn't trust Cutter to behave himself without supervision and there went any chance of him getting anything constructive done today.
***
Several hours later, Lester couldn't quite decide which was worse - Lyle and Becker doing their best to demolish the castle walls or Cutter encountering Prince Philip. What he did know was that he had the mother of all headaches building after having the minister yell at him down the phone line for almost an hour as he demanded Lester fixed things immediately, if not sooner.
Which was why Lester was now standing in a room in a bed and breakfast, his lip curled in distaste, as he considered his best options for solving the problems his team had caused.
He idly wondered if tasking Lyle and Becker with repairing the damage on their own would be a good idea, although he shuddered to think of how much more damage they'd cause. He really needed to find out where they'd acquired a tank from, even one without a working gun and Lester really did thank God for that, just thinking of the damage they could have caused with a fully functional tank was enough to make him wonder why on earth he'd ever left management consultancy for a career in government.
He sighed, it might not had been quite so bad if they'd been able to drive the bloody thing and they'd had just knocked into a wall or chipped some stonework, he could have had them apologise and repair the damage. But no, they'd driven - literally driven - it through three walls before driving it across an over 100 year-old ornamental garden, not once or twice, but half-a-dozen times as they'd chased and been chased by a pissed off Triceratops. Lester shuddered as he remembered being summoned to the garden to see the carnage for himself and he had encountered the Head Gardener in floods of tears, and he still couldn't quite make his mind up who had caused the most damage - the Triceratops angry at being chased or his so-called highly trained soldiers who apparently couldn't drive. What Lester did know was that he would never let either man within sight of another tank, ever.
Lester also knew that his budget would be severely dented by their actions and Cutter... he shuddered when his thoughts turned to Cutter. The man was a menace and why he thought Prince Philip should be subjected to his republican rant was beyond Lester, although by all accounts the Prince had rather enjoyed the lively discussion. Not that the minister had seen it that way and Lester knew with horrible certainty that he'd be forced to carefully scrutinise and rule out a multitude of apology letters before Cutter came up with one that would satisfy everyone. It might be easier if he just wrote the thing himself, but then there wouldn't be the slightest chance that Cutter would learn anything.
Lester shook his head wearily, he would worry about it tomorrow. For now he needed to sleep before his head exploded, even if it meant using bedding of unknown cleanliness. He had stripped to his boxers when the door creaked open and he spun to find himself face-to-face with one of the banes of his life - bloody Cutter. “What are you doing here?”
“Sleeping,” Cutter murmured as his gaze flickered up and down Lester's body. “Ms Brown's idea, apparently, everyone is sharing.”
Lester closed his eyes and gave a long-suffering sigh. Why him? Why couldn't Cutter... ah, actually the other options weren't much better - Ryan and Hart were shagging like bunnies, Temple would be a nightmare to share a room with, Lyle and Becker... well, neither was his favourite individual right now and he had no wish to know for certain if they'd bonded over their mutual desire for tanks and destruction, Finn... he'd heard enough about his antics to know he never wanted to sleep in the same room as him, he was too much of a gentlemen to suggest sharing with either Ms Lewis or Maitland. No, Cutter was possibly the best of his admittedly limited options, and that said all that needed to be said. “Fine. I hope you don't snore.” With that he quickly took care of business in the bathroom and slipped into bed, his back to Cutter in a clear message to leave him alone. Dear god, someone really must hate him.
Lester did his best to ignore the rustling of clothing and the way the bed dipped when Cutter clambered into it. He closed his eyes and counted sheep and tried to ignore the heat emanating from Cutter, it had obviously been far too long since he'd last shared a bed with anyone. He was almost asleep when Cutter switched the light on and he had to bite back a curse as the light seemed to spear his brain.
“Migraine?”
Cutter's words, although soft, had Lester wincing and squeezing his eyes closed. “Did you really just wake me up to ask me that?”
“No,” Cutter's voice became even softer. “I just had an idea about the anomalies but it can wait until morning.” He paused before adding, “Have you taken tablets for it?”
“I, unlike some people on this project, have common sense,” Lester muttered, before adding, just in case it wasn't clear, “Of course I bloody well have.”
“And they aren't working?”
Lester decided that comment was more a statement than a question and thus didn't require him to answer it. He did, however, moan when the bed moved and then let out an indignant cry when he felt warm hands on his shoulders. “What the fuck do you think you're doing?”
“I'm giving you a massage,” Cutter chuckled as he added, “Your virtue is safe with me.”
Bloody hell, now it was sexual harassment he could add to Cutter's many sins, except that Cutter's hands felt good and Lester moaned softly as the tension left his body and his head stopped pounding quite so incessantly as those hands kneaded and soothed his far too tense muscles. Slightly more disconcerting was the fact that his cock was slowly filling and he desperately hoped it was merely a reaction to endorphins and not to the fact that he was turned on by Cutter.
He refused to be attracted to Cutter, that really would be slumming it.
Author: knitekat
Word Count: ~1630
Characters: James Lester, Nick Cutter, Team.
Rating: 15
Disclaimer: Primeval belongs to Impossible Pictures. Certainly not me. Writing for fun and will replace.
A/N: For Fred for all her beta-ing and paw holding. Nick/Lester and slumming it. Thanks go to the wonderful fifi for the beta. All remaining mistakes are mine.
Sir James Lester groaned softly. Just when he'd thought the day couldn't deteriorate any further, he found it could. The room he'd been begrudgingly allocated by the bed and breakfast landlady was stuffy, dusty and smelled stale - not a surprise as the place had been shut up for the off season. He eyed the bedding with distaste, it looked like it hadn't been washed since the room had last been used and God only knew what it might be covered in and what life-forms might have bred in it. He also had no wish to think of the bill the Home Office would be charged for the privilege and pinched the bridge of his nose at the wonderful experience that awaited for him once the minister received the paperwork through for the entire cost of this anomaly.
He should have known better, his entire bloody day had been a disaster from the moment he'd woken late when his alarm had failed to go off. He'd been half-asleep and in so much of a rush he'd only realised it had been caused by a power-cut when he'd stood under the shower and been shocked awake by the freezing cold water. Without any power he couldn't have a cooked breakfast, let alone his much needed cup of coffee.
Things hadn't improved when he'd reached the ARC where he didn't even have the time to grab a coffee before the chaos had begun with the mad Professor Cutter busting in on him and demanding things Lester just couldn't countenance. Once he had sent Cutter away with a flea in his ear, Lester had smiled at Ms Wickes when she brought him in a coffee, only for it to grow cold when his phone rang and the minister almost burst his eardrum over Cutter's latest antics. The bloody man was a menace who shouldn't be allowed out in public without a minder, didn't Cutter have the slightest idea how much trouble he caused with his inability to follow simple orders or be polite to people?
When he had returned to his office with yet another fresh cup, Lester could only watch it cooling while he fielded a call from his ex-wife demanding he paid for their eldest's school trip, even though she'd married into money and he paid her more than enough to buy anything their children needed, if she'd only chose to spend it on them.
Lester sighed in relief when his phone stopped ringing and his emails stopping pinging and it finally appeared he had a breathing space to savour his much needed coffee. He knew better than to expect it to last for long, but was bitterly disappointed when he had barely managed a swallow before the ADD screamed.
Striding down to the ADD to see where the latest disaster was about to occur, Lester's hopes of just sending Cutter and his team off to deal with it faded when he saw the location. Fuck! If an anomaly opening at Balmoral wasn't bad enough, what with Cutter's total disregard for Royal property and proper etiquette when dealing with them, having an anomaly opening when the Royal Family would be in residence was just asking for trouble. Lester closed his eyes and drank the rest of his coffee almost without tasting it, he just couldn't trust Cutter to behave himself without supervision and there went any chance of him getting anything constructive done today.
***
Several hours later, Lester couldn't quite decide which was worse - Lyle and Becker doing their best to demolish the castle walls or Cutter encountering Prince Philip. What he did know was that he had the mother of all headaches building after having the minister yell at him down the phone line for almost an hour as he demanded Lester fixed things immediately, if not sooner.
Which was why Lester was now standing in a room in a bed and breakfast, his lip curled in distaste, as he considered his best options for solving the problems his team had caused.
He idly wondered if tasking Lyle and Becker with repairing the damage on their own would be a good idea, although he shuddered to think of how much more damage they'd cause. He really needed to find out where they'd acquired a tank from, even one without a working gun and Lester really did thank God for that, just thinking of the damage they could have caused with a fully functional tank was enough to make him wonder why on earth he'd ever left management consultancy for a career in government.
He sighed, it might not had been quite so bad if they'd been able to drive the bloody thing and they'd had just knocked into a wall or chipped some stonework, he could have had them apologise and repair the damage. But no, they'd driven - literally driven - it through three walls before driving it across an over 100 year-old ornamental garden, not once or twice, but half-a-dozen times as they'd chased and been chased by a pissed off Triceratops. Lester shuddered as he remembered being summoned to the garden to see the carnage for himself and he had encountered the Head Gardener in floods of tears, and he still couldn't quite make his mind up who had caused the most damage - the Triceratops angry at being chased or his so-called highly trained soldiers who apparently couldn't drive. What Lester did know was that he would never let either man within sight of another tank, ever.
Lester also knew that his budget would be severely dented by their actions and Cutter... he shuddered when his thoughts turned to Cutter. The man was a menace and why he thought Prince Philip should be subjected to his republican rant was beyond Lester, although by all accounts the Prince had rather enjoyed the lively discussion. Not that the minister had seen it that way and Lester knew with horrible certainty that he'd be forced to carefully scrutinise and rule out a multitude of apology letters before Cutter came up with one that would satisfy everyone. It might be easier if he just wrote the thing himself, but then there wouldn't be the slightest chance that Cutter would learn anything.
Lester shook his head wearily, he would worry about it tomorrow. For now he needed to sleep before his head exploded, even if it meant using bedding of unknown cleanliness. He had stripped to his boxers when the door creaked open and he spun to find himself face-to-face with one of the banes of his life - bloody Cutter. “What are you doing here?”
“Sleeping,” Cutter murmured as his gaze flickered up and down Lester's body. “Ms Brown's idea, apparently, everyone is sharing.”
Lester closed his eyes and gave a long-suffering sigh. Why him? Why couldn't Cutter... ah, actually the other options weren't much better - Ryan and Hart were shagging like bunnies, Temple would be a nightmare to share a room with, Lyle and Becker... well, neither was his favourite individual right now and he had no wish to know for certain if they'd bonded over their mutual desire for tanks and destruction, Finn... he'd heard enough about his antics to know he never wanted to sleep in the same room as him, he was too much of a gentlemen to suggest sharing with either Ms Lewis or Maitland. No, Cutter was possibly the best of his admittedly limited options, and that said all that needed to be said. “Fine. I hope you don't snore.” With that he quickly took care of business in the bathroom and slipped into bed, his back to Cutter in a clear message to leave him alone. Dear god, someone really must hate him.
Lester did his best to ignore the rustling of clothing and the way the bed dipped when Cutter clambered into it. He closed his eyes and counted sheep and tried to ignore the heat emanating from Cutter, it had obviously been far too long since he'd last shared a bed with anyone. He was almost asleep when Cutter switched the light on and he had to bite back a curse as the light seemed to spear his brain.
“Migraine?”
Cutter's words, although soft, had Lester wincing and squeezing his eyes closed. “Did you really just wake me up to ask me that?”
“No,” Cutter's voice became even softer. “I just had an idea about the anomalies but it can wait until morning.” He paused before adding, “Have you taken tablets for it?”
“I, unlike some people on this project, have common sense,” Lester muttered, before adding, just in case it wasn't clear, “Of course I bloody well have.”
“And they aren't working?”
Lester decided that comment was more a statement than a question and thus didn't require him to answer it. He did, however, moan when the bed moved and then let out an indignant cry when he felt warm hands on his shoulders. “What the fuck do you think you're doing?”
“I'm giving you a massage,” Cutter chuckled as he added, “Your virtue is safe with me.”
Bloody hell, now it was sexual harassment he could add to Cutter's many sins, except that Cutter's hands felt good and Lester moaned softly as the tension left his body and his head stopped pounding quite so incessantly as those hands kneaded and soothed his far too tense muscles. Slightly more disconcerting was the fact that his cock was slowly filling and he desperately hoped it was merely a reaction to endorphins and not to the fact that he was turned on by Cutter.
He refused to be attracted to Cutter, that really would be slumming it.