Primeval fic: Warming Up
Title: Warming Up
Author: SCWLC
Disclaimer: Anything you might recognise, I don't own.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: After nearly freezing to death, Stephen helps Connor warm up. A bit of hurt-comfort and some smut.
A/N: So, this is set in a universe where Stephen made it through the end of S2. Doesn't matter how, he just did. This is fallout from the mess with Connor giving himself hypothermia in the mould monster episode.
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Stephen woke with a start. Something or someone was in his apartment. It was a sixth sense he'd developed from going on expeditions to war-torn third world countries and godforsaken regions of the world with more poisonous animals per capita than anywhere had any right to have. You just got used to waking up, knowing that some mad South American terrorist or terrifying African predator had got into your tent and was about to do you in.
Of course, sometime it was Nick Cutter, wibbling about waking you up in the bloody middle of the night because he just had some bloody brainwave about some new angle of attack on the dig or on the investigation that had to be discussed right now. But mostly it was poisonous beasties.
Or lately, Helen. Of course, it hadn't been Helen for months, not since he'd finally cut the ties with her and moved on, resolving things between himself and Nick, finally. But who knew? She was as poisonous as anything else he'd encountered. So, he slipped a hand into the nightstand, coming up with a hunting knife and crept through his apartment to find . . .
Two diictodons and Connor Temple, huddled on his sofa, buried under blankets and shivering.
Connor looked like hell. His skin was pale and his hair looked greasy, like he was sick, simultaneously on end and limp. He was also asleep, and clinging to the two diictodons like a lifeline. Meanwhile, the animals were making soft, near subvocal noises of distress as they apparently tried to comfort their new packmate.
The question was, what had happened? Today had been one of those long days of increasing insane tension, with that Christine Johnson woman trying to insert her people into the ARC and Lester spontaneously creating a new team, redistributing the old one between Cutter and Danny Quinn, super-detective. There had been the killer mould that had tried to overtake the ARC and the city, Jenny had nearly died from hypothermia, taking an extended sabbatical, which might well become permanent, Stephen didn't know.
Connor had apparently been key to figuring out that the damned thing needed to be frozen to stop it, but Stephen wasn't really sure what had been going on with Connor all day. For some reason their resident genius had brought Sid and Nancy to work with him that day, but he'd also left a confused trail of stories about why behind him as he chased the escape artist animals all over the building. Stephen had found himself helping Connor corral Sid once that day, even. But why was Connor in Stephen's flat?
Now, it wasn't that it was entirely mad that he was there. After the debacle in that old house where Quinn's brother had vanished, and he'd nearly been slashed to death by the little monster therein, Connor had showed up at his door, telling him, "Fuck my hurt feelings. Don't do that again," and kissed him. It had led to snogging on his sofa for half the night, followed by a mutual agreement to see where this was going to go. Because Connor with a couple years of seasoning under his belt was miles and miles from the foolish student stumbling about the Forest of Dean, and intelligence was very sexy when put into a pretty package like Connor Temple.
So, Connor showing up at his boyfriend's flat wasn't completely weird. But . . . why? And why now? He glanced at the clock, Sarah was a night owl, and she'd been at the ARC all day. Maybe she'd know. Now that he thought about it, she'd been looking concerned at Connor all day.
After pulling out another blanket and laying it over the shaking figure on his couch, Stephen slipped into the bedroom, closing the door and dialling Sarah. She picked up immediately. "Is something wrong, Stephen?" she asked right off.
"I'm not sure, actually," he said. "Do you know, did something happen to Connor today? I mean, other than chasing Sid all over the ARC and tangling with Lester about it?"
There was a sharp intake of breath at the other end of the line. "Is he okay?" she asked.
"He's balled up on my sofa, shivering in his sleep," he told her. "You know something, don't you?"
"Damnit," she muttered. "I knew something was wrong, but he fobbed me off with some excuse about lack of sleep. I should have known better."
"Sarah," he chided. "What happened?"
"He nearly died is what happened," she snapped. His knees gave out and he sank to the bed, beginning to shake himself. He knew work at the ARC was dangerous, but that was in the field, or when there were monsters around or something. It shouldn't have been happening then, and not when he wasn't around to pull Connor out by the scruff of the neck.
"Sarah," he pleaded with her. "Tell me."
So she told him. about Connor going after Sid in the isolation room, about the growing mould about Connor, perched up by the ceiling on top of the refrigerators, opening them on a hunch and telling her to turn down the temperature in the room to arctic levels. She told him about Connor curled into a ball, pale and shaking, ice forming in his hair, telling her not to turn the heat up, his face set as he made her promise to kill the damned fungus, even if it killed him.
She told him about the interminable wait, about seeing the growth slow, stop, retreat, then waiting for a signal that they should open up, fearing there would be no signal because he would have been dead by then. The surge of relief when the single thumb came up indicating he was okay, and Connor pale and shocky, huddled in thermal blankets, more concerned about everyone else and his diictodons than the fact that he'd nearly died.
Stephen didn't need the rest as he hung up. He recalled Connor on his feet, and running the show to stop and kill the monster, Connor with his jaw clenched and eyes fixed on Jenny as she lay dying in the cold, making them all back away, because they couldn't save her without letting her freeze, and Connor joking and laughing with a slightly hysterical edge he'd thought was due to nearly losing Jenny alone.
And Connor had come here.
He was out by his sofa again without even thinking, this time, brushing some hair out of Connor's eyes. Those same eyes flickered open now, and Stephen smiled at him. "Hey," he said gently.
Connor looked around a little wildly, then said, "Sorry, I didn't . . . I probably shouldn't be here. I just . . . I fell asleep. I couldn't go to sleep at . . ." he trailed off, breathing a little heavily, still shivering.
"I called Sarah," Stephen said, getting it out into the conversation. "She told me you nearly died today. Is there some reason I found out by having to call and ask why you were in shock on my sofa?"
"Sorry," Connor muttered. "I shouldn't have come. I just didn't want to . . . I couldn't."
Despite his apparently cold, Connor was also sweating now, and Stephen made a snap decision. "Don't move a muscle Connor."
"Don't think I could," Connor replied, dredging up some dry humour from somewhere as he huddled down and murmured to his squeaking pets.
The one expenditure Stephen had been positively exorbitant with when finding his flat, was the enormous bathtub. Large enough to seat two comfortably and three if they were excessively friendly, water jets and every sort of possible addition, it made living on a sixth floor walkup worth it, even when he had to drag himself up the flights of stairs after being knocked around by the dinosaur of the week. It was the middle of the night now, so he could get away with using all the hot water he wanted without worrying someone else would need it for something, and he set the tub to filling.
Then he went back and sat next to Connor on the sofa. "So, why didn't you say anything?"
"I couldn't. I mean, Jenny really did die. Sort of seems petty to whinge about nearly dying when you're talking to someone who was actually dead," Connor told him. Which made the sort of sense that only Connor ever made. Suddenly he spastically shivered again. "God, I'm cold. I know it's in me head, but it's like m'bone marrow's permafrost."
Stephen pulled him up. "Come on," he said, leading the younger man to the bathroom with the steaming tub. Connor was trembling so much by the time they got there, Stephen had to peel him out of his clothes, unable to keep himself from noticing a sort of slender, whipcord muscle, that didn't bulge, but was graceful and smooth. Still, he was too pale, even for Connor, and Stephen had to get out of his own clothes, nothing more than a pair of pyjama bottoms, just in case someone burst in during the night, and climb in with Connor to keep the other from shaking himself to pieces.
It took a few minutes, but eventually Connor's shaking stopped, the colour began to return to his face, and Stephen sighed in relief as Connor calmed. "So, tell me about it."
"I don't know. I mean, I knew we had to shut the thing down, stop it, and I couldn't leave. If I'd tried, it just would have come out with me and started spreading all over the ARC. So I had to stay. It was just so cold. I never even knew you could be that cold." He shivered briefly, and Stephen pulled him closer, reminding Connor that they were in a pool of hot water and that there was a source of body heat next to him. Connor curled into Stephen, who sharply reminded himself that, even though this was really sexy, Connor was probably not thinking about that right then.
"I was pretty sure I was going to die," Connor admitted. "When I heard the say that the bloody stuff was retreating, it was the hardest thing to just let them know I was okay."
"Don't do that again," Stephen ordered him. "I'm not going to lose you to the environmental controls at the ARC."
"I won't plan on it," Connor carefully not-agreed. It was one of the reasons they both got on so well, him and Connor. They both understood that sometimes you had to stand in the path of a rampaging hippo and let it run you down because otherwise it would really cause damage. It didn't mean he liked it, but he could respect it the way Connor respected it in him.
So, instead of calling Connor on it, he leaned over and kissed him. It had been meant to be simple affection, but he was naked in the tub with a wet and slippery Connor, who made an interesting noise in the back of his throat and suddenly spun around, clamping onto Stephen like a very sexy limpet. Lips fused again and again, and Stephen groaned into Connor's mouth as he got hard, and felt the artless and eager shifting of Connor's hips press a heavy erection into his hip.
It was an act of sheer will to pull himself away, and it took two tries, because Connor took his pulling away as license to slide low in the water and wrap lips, toungue and teeth around Stephen's nipples, one after the other, making Stephen feel his cock tighten precipitously. The second time, he reached between them, getting his hand on Connor and squeezing lightly. It made Connor's head fly back and a hoarse cry erupt from that lovely mouth of his. "Stephen!"
Stephen slipped away, grabbing the wash cloth from the side of the tub and lathering it quickly while Connor seemed to be plotting something. "Oh no," Stephen said. "Have you taken a look at yourself? You look like you haven't showered in days, Connor."
Connor pouted and flopped back. "Well, that's a mood killer."
He leaned back a moment and considered Connor. This didn't seem like it was purely a hormonal rush on surviving, so, "It doesn't have to be," Stephen told him, and grabbed a wrist, pulling Connor against him, sliding the soapy washcloth over Connor's chest.
It got the highly intelligent response of, "Ngl," out of the geek, who was only mostly cooperative with Stephen's self-appointed task of getting him cleaned up. How he got Connor washed, he didn't actually know, because by the time he'd forcibly dunked his partner for the last time, Connor had used his own soaped-up hands on pretty much every part of Stephen, who wasn't sure he'd ever been that hard before.
The water was slick and soapy, and Stephen wasn't even sure whether he wanted to come more, or see Connor come first. But he already had a hand on Connor's erection, his lover's hands clinging to the sides of the tub, gyrating frantically into the hand wrapped around his length his head thrown back until he stiffened, coming hard and collapsing onto Stephen's chest. "Oh my God, Stephen," he groaned.
He couldn't wait anymore, he just couldn't it was too hot, too much, and the slick skin pressed against him just felt too good. Stephen groaned himself as he wrapped his fingers around his own cock, beginning to squeeze with just the right pressure, rocking back and forth into his grip.
Connor sat up, then seemed to realise what was going on, staring through the cloudy water, where he could just barely make out the movements of hips, cock and hands beneath the water. His eyes were hot as he stared at Stephen, who gasped, "Kiss me."
Connor did more than just kiss him, as one hand skated down, somehow working around Stephen's working hand to cup his balls, the other to play with and pinch Stephen's nearly too-sensitive nipples. It was brilliant and he came so hard, he couldn't find the breath to make a sound. They lay together in the bath until the water finally got too cool to stay in, climbed out and dried off, neither bothering to think of clothes.
Curled up together in bed, Stephen said, "I'm glad you came here, Connor, and not just because that was bloody fantastic back there."
Half asleep, Connor mumbled back. "Didn't have anywhere else to go. Abby's kicked me out of the flat to make space for her brother."
"What?"
"Er . . ."
Stephen looked down at him. "And you didn't come here immediately because?"
Flushing, Connor said, "I wasn't sure. I mean, we only just started dating. I did that with Abby, and look how that turned out. Us living together and her thinking I'm too much an idiot to bother with some days."
"Well, we can see in the long term. In the meanwhile, you can stay Connor. You're always welcome here. I promise you."
"Sid and Nancy too?" Connor asked. "Only, Abby's kicked me out because her brother's here, yeah? And I can't leave Sid and Nancy there, there's nothing she could tell him that would make them pass for normal animals, while Rex she can say is a draco volans, right?"
"Sid and Nancy too," Stephen agreed, amused.
"Good," Connor yawned, dropping into a proper sleep, finally. "Only they really like cotton. I mean, eating it, and I'm pretty sure Sid was eyeing your dresser . . ." he trailed off as his eyes closed, settled against Stephen's chest.
An ominous squeaking and the sound of his dresser being mauled by little diictodon teeth made Stephen shake his head as he firmly went to sleep. He'd figure out how to deal with Connor's little menaces in the morning. Assuming he had any shirts left at that point.
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Author: SCWLC
Disclaimer: Anything you might recognise, I don't own.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: After nearly freezing to death, Stephen helps Connor warm up. A bit of hurt-comfort and some smut.
A/N: So, this is set in a universe where Stephen made it through the end of S2. Doesn't matter how, he just did. This is fallout from the mess with Connor giving himself hypothermia in the mould monster episode.
*******************************
Stephen woke with a start. Something or someone was in his apartment. It was a sixth sense he'd developed from going on expeditions to war-torn third world countries and godforsaken regions of the world with more poisonous animals per capita than anywhere had any right to have. You just got used to waking up, knowing that some mad South American terrorist or terrifying African predator had got into your tent and was about to do you in.
Of course, sometime it was Nick Cutter, wibbling about waking you up in the bloody middle of the night because he just had some bloody brainwave about some new angle of attack on the dig or on the investigation that had to be discussed right now. But mostly it was poisonous beasties.
Or lately, Helen. Of course, it hadn't been Helen for months, not since he'd finally cut the ties with her and moved on, resolving things between himself and Nick, finally. But who knew? She was as poisonous as anything else he'd encountered. So, he slipped a hand into the nightstand, coming up with a hunting knife and crept through his apartment to find . . .
Two diictodons and Connor Temple, huddled on his sofa, buried under blankets and shivering.
Connor looked like hell. His skin was pale and his hair looked greasy, like he was sick, simultaneously on end and limp. He was also asleep, and clinging to the two diictodons like a lifeline. Meanwhile, the animals were making soft, near subvocal noises of distress as they apparently tried to comfort their new packmate.
The question was, what had happened? Today had been one of those long days of increasing insane tension, with that Christine Johnson woman trying to insert her people into the ARC and Lester spontaneously creating a new team, redistributing the old one between Cutter and Danny Quinn, super-detective. There had been the killer mould that had tried to overtake the ARC and the city, Jenny had nearly died from hypothermia, taking an extended sabbatical, which might well become permanent, Stephen didn't know.
Connor had apparently been key to figuring out that the damned thing needed to be frozen to stop it, but Stephen wasn't really sure what had been going on with Connor all day. For some reason their resident genius had brought Sid and Nancy to work with him that day, but he'd also left a confused trail of stories about why behind him as he chased the escape artist animals all over the building. Stephen had found himself helping Connor corral Sid once that day, even. But why was Connor in Stephen's flat?
Now, it wasn't that it was entirely mad that he was there. After the debacle in that old house where Quinn's brother had vanished, and he'd nearly been slashed to death by the little monster therein, Connor had showed up at his door, telling him, "Fuck my hurt feelings. Don't do that again," and kissed him. It had led to snogging on his sofa for half the night, followed by a mutual agreement to see where this was going to go. Because Connor with a couple years of seasoning under his belt was miles and miles from the foolish student stumbling about the Forest of Dean, and intelligence was very sexy when put into a pretty package like Connor Temple.
So, Connor showing up at his boyfriend's flat wasn't completely weird. But . . . why? And why now? He glanced at the clock, Sarah was a night owl, and she'd been at the ARC all day. Maybe she'd know. Now that he thought about it, she'd been looking concerned at Connor all day.
After pulling out another blanket and laying it over the shaking figure on his couch, Stephen slipped into the bedroom, closing the door and dialling Sarah. She picked up immediately. "Is something wrong, Stephen?" she asked right off.
"I'm not sure, actually," he said. "Do you know, did something happen to Connor today? I mean, other than chasing Sid all over the ARC and tangling with Lester about it?"
There was a sharp intake of breath at the other end of the line. "Is he okay?" she asked.
"He's balled up on my sofa, shivering in his sleep," he told her. "You know something, don't you?"
"Damnit," she muttered. "I knew something was wrong, but he fobbed me off with some excuse about lack of sleep. I should have known better."
"Sarah," he chided. "What happened?"
"He nearly died is what happened," she snapped. His knees gave out and he sank to the bed, beginning to shake himself. He knew work at the ARC was dangerous, but that was in the field, or when there were monsters around or something. It shouldn't have been happening then, and not when he wasn't around to pull Connor out by the scruff of the neck.
"Sarah," he pleaded with her. "Tell me."
So she told him. about Connor going after Sid in the isolation room, about the growing mould about Connor, perched up by the ceiling on top of the refrigerators, opening them on a hunch and telling her to turn down the temperature in the room to arctic levels. She told him about Connor curled into a ball, pale and shaking, ice forming in his hair, telling her not to turn the heat up, his face set as he made her promise to kill the damned fungus, even if it killed him.
She told him about the interminable wait, about seeing the growth slow, stop, retreat, then waiting for a signal that they should open up, fearing there would be no signal because he would have been dead by then. The surge of relief when the single thumb came up indicating he was okay, and Connor pale and shocky, huddled in thermal blankets, more concerned about everyone else and his diictodons than the fact that he'd nearly died.
Stephen didn't need the rest as he hung up. He recalled Connor on his feet, and running the show to stop and kill the monster, Connor with his jaw clenched and eyes fixed on Jenny as she lay dying in the cold, making them all back away, because they couldn't save her without letting her freeze, and Connor joking and laughing with a slightly hysterical edge he'd thought was due to nearly losing Jenny alone.
And Connor had come here.
He was out by his sofa again without even thinking, this time, brushing some hair out of Connor's eyes. Those same eyes flickered open now, and Stephen smiled at him. "Hey," he said gently.
Connor looked around a little wildly, then said, "Sorry, I didn't . . . I probably shouldn't be here. I just . . . I fell asleep. I couldn't go to sleep at . . ." he trailed off, breathing a little heavily, still shivering.
"I called Sarah," Stephen said, getting it out into the conversation. "She told me you nearly died today. Is there some reason I found out by having to call and ask why you were in shock on my sofa?"
"Sorry," Connor muttered. "I shouldn't have come. I just didn't want to . . . I couldn't."
Despite his apparently cold, Connor was also sweating now, and Stephen made a snap decision. "Don't move a muscle Connor."
"Don't think I could," Connor replied, dredging up some dry humour from somewhere as he huddled down and murmured to his squeaking pets.
The one expenditure Stephen had been positively exorbitant with when finding his flat, was the enormous bathtub. Large enough to seat two comfortably and three if they were excessively friendly, water jets and every sort of possible addition, it made living on a sixth floor walkup worth it, even when he had to drag himself up the flights of stairs after being knocked around by the dinosaur of the week. It was the middle of the night now, so he could get away with using all the hot water he wanted without worrying someone else would need it for something, and he set the tub to filling.
Then he went back and sat next to Connor on the sofa. "So, why didn't you say anything?"
"I couldn't. I mean, Jenny really did die. Sort of seems petty to whinge about nearly dying when you're talking to someone who was actually dead," Connor told him. Which made the sort of sense that only Connor ever made. Suddenly he spastically shivered again. "God, I'm cold. I know it's in me head, but it's like m'bone marrow's permafrost."
Stephen pulled him up. "Come on," he said, leading the younger man to the bathroom with the steaming tub. Connor was trembling so much by the time they got there, Stephen had to peel him out of his clothes, unable to keep himself from noticing a sort of slender, whipcord muscle, that didn't bulge, but was graceful and smooth. Still, he was too pale, even for Connor, and Stephen had to get out of his own clothes, nothing more than a pair of pyjama bottoms, just in case someone burst in during the night, and climb in with Connor to keep the other from shaking himself to pieces.
It took a few minutes, but eventually Connor's shaking stopped, the colour began to return to his face, and Stephen sighed in relief as Connor calmed. "So, tell me about it."
"I don't know. I mean, I knew we had to shut the thing down, stop it, and I couldn't leave. If I'd tried, it just would have come out with me and started spreading all over the ARC. So I had to stay. It was just so cold. I never even knew you could be that cold." He shivered briefly, and Stephen pulled him closer, reminding Connor that they were in a pool of hot water and that there was a source of body heat next to him. Connor curled into Stephen, who sharply reminded himself that, even though this was really sexy, Connor was probably not thinking about that right then.
"I was pretty sure I was going to die," Connor admitted. "When I heard the say that the bloody stuff was retreating, it was the hardest thing to just let them know I was okay."
"Don't do that again," Stephen ordered him. "I'm not going to lose you to the environmental controls at the ARC."
"I won't plan on it," Connor carefully not-agreed. It was one of the reasons they both got on so well, him and Connor. They both understood that sometimes you had to stand in the path of a rampaging hippo and let it run you down because otherwise it would really cause damage. It didn't mean he liked it, but he could respect it the way Connor respected it in him.
So, instead of calling Connor on it, he leaned over and kissed him. It had been meant to be simple affection, but he was naked in the tub with a wet and slippery Connor, who made an interesting noise in the back of his throat and suddenly spun around, clamping onto Stephen like a very sexy limpet. Lips fused again and again, and Stephen groaned into Connor's mouth as he got hard, and felt the artless and eager shifting of Connor's hips press a heavy erection into his hip.
It was an act of sheer will to pull himself away, and it took two tries, because Connor took his pulling away as license to slide low in the water and wrap lips, toungue and teeth around Stephen's nipples, one after the other, making Stephen feel his cock tighten precipitously. The second time, he reached between them, getting his hand on Connor and squeezing lightly. It made Connor's head fly back and a hoarse cry erupt from that lovely mouth of his. "Stephen!"
Stephen slipped away, grabbing the wash cloth from the side of the tub and lathering it quickly while Connor seemed to be plotting something. "Oh no," Stephen said. "Have you taken a look at yourself? You look like you haven't showered in days, Connor."
Connor pouted and flopped back. "Well, that's a mood killer."
He leaned back a moment and considered Connor. This didn't seem like it was purely a hormonal rush on surviving, so, "It doesn't have to be," Stephen told him, and grabbed a wrist, pulling Connor against him, sliding the soapy washcloth over Connor's chest.
It got the highly intelligent response of, "Ngl," out of the geek, who was only mostly cooperative with Stephen's self-appointed task of getting him cleaned up. How he got Connor washed, he didn't actually know, because by the time he'd forcibly dunked his partner for the last time, Connor had used his own soaped-up hands on pretty much every part of Stephen, who wasn't sure he'd ever been that hard before.
The water was slick and soapy, and Stephen wasn't even sure whether he wanted to come more, or see Connor come first. But he already had a hand on Connor's erection, his lover's hands clinging to the sides of the tub, gyrating frantically into the hand wrapped around his length his head thrown back until he stiffened, coming hard and collapsing onto Stephen's chest. "Oh my God, Stephen," he groaned.
He couldn't wait anymore, he just couldn't it was too hot, too much, and the slick skin pressed against him just felt too good. Stephen groaned himself as he wrapped his fingers around his own cock, beginning to squeeze with just the right pressure, rocking back and forth into his grip.
Connor sat up, then seemed to realise what was going on, staring through the cloudy water, where he could just barely make out the movements of hips, cock and hands beneath the water. His eyes were hot as he stared at Stephen, who gasped, "Kiss me."
Connor did more than just kiss him, as one hand skated down, somehow working around Stephen's working hand to cup his balls, the other to play with and pinch Stephen's nearly too-sensitive nipples. It was brilliant and he came so hard, he couldn't find the breath to make a sound. They lay together in the bath until the water finally got too cool to stay in, climbed out and dried off, neither bothering to think of clothes.
Curled up together in bed, Stephen said, "I'm glad you came here, Connor, and not just because that was bloody fantastic back there."
Half asleep, Connor mumbled back. "Didn't have anywhere else to go. Abby's kicked me out of the flat to make space for her brother."
"What?"
"Er . . ."
Stephen looked down at him. "And you didn't come here immediately because?"
Flushing, Connor said, "I wasn't sure. I mean, we only just started dating. I did that with Abby, and look how that turned out. Us living together and her thinking I'm too much an idiot to bother with some days."
"Well, we can see in the long term. In the meanwhile, you can stay Connor. You're always welcome here. I promise you."
"Sid and Nancy too?" Connor asked. "Only, Abby's kicked me out because her brother's here, yeah? And I can't leave Sid and Nancy there, there's nothing she could tell him that would make them pass for normal animals, while Rex she can say is a draco volans, right?"
"Sid and Nancy too," Stephen agreed, amused.
"Good," Connor yawned, dropping into a proper sleep, finally. "Only they really like cotton. I mean, eating it, and I'm pretty sure Sid was eyeing your dresser . . ." he trailed off as his eyes closed, settled against Stephen's chest.
An ominous squeaking and the sound of his dresser being mauled by little diictodon teeth made Stephen shake his head as he firmly went to sleep. He'd figure out how to deal with Connor's little menaces in the morning. Assuming he had any shirts left at that point.
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