Fic, Of Mice and Men, Sanctuary, 15
Oct. 28th, 2010 11:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fredbassettTitle : Of Mice and Men
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 15
Characters : Ryan/Stephen, Claudia, Nick, Management
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : This will make absolutely no sense unless you have already ready read Struggle by the wonderful![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fififolle
Warning : The story that inspired this little ficlet was written for Little Miss Maim and Kill’s birthday. Need I say more?
Summary : Claudia is certain Sanctuary has been invaded by mice.
A/N : The wonderful world of Sanctuary was created bymysteriousaliwz .
Ryan wandered into the kitchen in search of post-coital tea and biscuits and found Claudia Brown staring around with an expression that could only be described as concerned.
“Problem?” he asked, filling the kettle and grimacing at the mess in the sink. It was Cutter’s turn to do the washing up, but by the look of it he’d probably retired to his room claiming he had another paper to write.
“I think we might have mice.”
Ryan rolled his eyes. They definitely needed to do something about the cleaning rota. If he found rodent footprints in the butter he wouldn’t be pleased. “Hart! Get your arse in here. We need your tracking skills!”
A few moments later, Stephen wandered in, armed with a seriously just-fucked look and hair that looked like something last seen on the end of a chimney-sweep’s brush. “Ryan, have you seen my slippers?”
“Mighty hunters don’t wear slippers.”
Stephen looked puzzled. “Yes, I do, this bloody floor is freezing.” He raised his voice slightly. “Management, can’t you get Norman to do something about the heating, it’s on the blink again?”
“He’s waiting for a part to be delivered for the boiler. But we thought you might like a wood-burning stove in the living room and maybe Captain Ryan wouldn’t mind chopping up some wood…”
The Duty Manager’s voice had gone a bit dreamy and Ryan got the distinct impression that if he did strip to the waist and start chopping wood their minders would be very happy bunnies. He grinned. He actually quite liked wielding an axe, so the ladies might get their wish.
“Mice, Stephen,” Claudia said pointedly. “I think we might have mice?”
“Do you think they might have taken my slippers?”
Ryan wondered whether he had finally managed to shag Stephen senseless. He finished making the tea and plonked one on the table in front of his lover. “Drink that, then you’re going hunting. Miss Brown thinks we’ve got mice and you’re our resident tracker.”
“Can’t we just shoot them?”
“No, you bloody well can’t!” stated an irascible Scottish voice from the doorway. “You have no idea what damage that might do to the timelines.”
Ryan stared up at the ceiling. “Management, is there any chance of me getting time off for good behaviour? I’ll chop the entire sodding forest naked, if it’ll help.”
“Don’t start, Nick,” said Claudia, in a voice that had almost certainly been used to good effect on numerous junior civil servants. She cast a dark look at the sink. “I put up with a lot around here, but I will not tolerate mice.”
“We could make a humane trap.”
“We could use the rocket launcher,” said Stephen in an amused drawl.
“We’d rather you didn’t, boys, Norman’s busy enough building the new extension you wanted. He can’t get on with that if you start blowing holes in the walls.”
Stephen pouted.
Claudia screamed and pointed to the door. “That wasn’t a mouse, it was a rat!”
Ryan swung around just in time to see something brown and furry shooting past the doorway and down the hall. Claudia was right; it looked very much like they did have unwanted visitors. “Come on, sweetie, stop whinging about your slippers and start tracking.”
The hallway was free of unwanted visitors, as was Claudia’s bedroom. After that, they widened the search. The mess in Cutter’s room could easily have been harbouring a herd of triceratops and the Lost Tribe of Israel, so they gave that up as a bad job. Helen’s room wasn’t much better. Just as they were plucking up the courage to extend the search to Leek’s bedroom, another shriek from Claudia took them in the direction of the living room at a run.
“They’re in front of the fire!”
Ryan looked over her shoulder. Stephen was going to be pleased, as it looked like they’d found his slippers. Someone had plonked them down in front of the new wood-burning stove that management had been talking about.
“Great, thanks, Claudia!” grinned Stephen.
Claudia still looked concerned. “That was what I saw in the hallway. They were… scurrying.” She shuddered.
Ryan looked at Stephen and they both shrugged. Weirder things had happened around here than slippers with a life of their own. But just to be on the safe side, he and Stephen executed a neat flanking manoeuvre that brought them up on either side of the worn, brown objects that might, many years ago, have been sheepskin.
Stephen stared down at his lost property with an even more puzzled expression on his face than the one he’d worn earlier. “Management, why have a pair of feet taken up residence in my slippers?”
“I think they were cold. The Duty Manager sounded even more shifty than usual.
Stephen grinned as though that explained everything, and Ryan was now totally convinced that he really had managed to shag him senseless.
“Management,” Ryan said, talking slowly and carefully, just in case he really was the only remaining bastion of sanity in the entire house. “Why is a pair of disembodied feet here in the first place?”
“Trust me, you really don’t want to know, boys,” said the Duty Manager, almost pleadingly. “We’ll get Stephen another pair of slippers, and I’m sure your new friends won’t turn out to be any trouble. They’re quite sweet, really.” She sounded hopeful, and was very definitely starting to wheedle, as well.
Ryan stared down at the slippers and their occupants. Pinned to the threadbare sheepskin trim were two small permanent residents’ passes. He had a nasty feeling someone had just had a birthday, but at least on this occasion he hadn’t woken up with a sore arse.
He smiled winningly at Claudia. “Well, the good news is that we haven’t got mice.”
“I’m not going to like this, am I, captain?”
Ryan stared down at the latest additions to the house. “Probably not,” he conceded, truthfully.
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 15
Characters : Ryan/Stephen, Claudia, Nick, Management
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : This will make absolutely no sense unless you have already ready read Struggle by the wonderful
fififolle Warning : The story that inspired this little ficlet was written for Little Miss Maim and Kill’s birthday. Need I say more?
Summary : Claudia is certain Sanctuary has been invaded by mice.
A/N : The wonderful world of Sanctuary was created by
mysteriousaliwz .Ryan wandered into the kitchen in search of post-coital tea and biscuits and found Claudia Brown staring around with an expression that could only be described as concerned.
“Problem?” he asked, filling the kettle and grimacing at the mess in the sink. It was Cutter’s turn to do the washing up, but by the look of it he’d probably retired to his room claiming he had another paper to write.
“I think we might have mice.”
Ryan rolled his eyes. They definitely needed to do something about the cleaning rota. If he found rodent footprints in the butter he wouldn’t be pleased. “Hart! Get your arse in here. We need your tracking skills!”
A few moments later, Stephen wandered in, armed with a seriously just-fucked look and hair that looked like something last seen on the end of a chimney-sweep’s brush. “Ryan, have you seen my slippers?”
“Mighty hunters don’t wear slippers.”
Stephen looked puzzled. “Yes, I do, this bloody floor is freezing.” He raised his voice slightly. “Management, can’t you get Norman to do something about the heating, it’s on the blink again?”
“He’s waiting for a part to be delivered for the boiler. But we thought you might like a wood-burning stove in the living room and maybe Captain Ryan wouldn’t mind chopping up some wood…”
The Duty Manager’s voice had gone a bit dreamy and Ryan got the distinct impression that if he did strip to the waist and start chopping wood their minders would be very happy bunnies. He grinned. He actually quite liked wielding an axe, so the ladies might get their wish.
“Mice, Stephen,” Claudia said pointedly. “I think we might have mice?”
“Do you think they might have taken my slippers?”
Ryan wondered whether he had finally managed to shag Stephen senseless. He finished making the tea and plonked one on the table in front of his lover. “Drink that, then you’re going hunting. Miss Brown thinks we’ve got mice and you’re our resident tracker.”
“Can’t we just shoot them?”
“No, you bloody well can’t!” stated an irascible Scottish voice from the doorway. “You have no idea what damage that might do to the timelines.”
Ryan stared up at the ceiling. “Management, is there any chance of me getting time off for good behaviour? I’ll chop the entire sodding forest naked, if it’ll help.”
“Don’t start, Nick,” said Claudia, in a voice that had almost certainly been used to good effect on numerous junior civil servants. She cast a dark look at the sink. “I put up with a lot around here, but I will not tolerate mice.”
“We could make a humane trap.”
“We could use the rocket launcher,” said Stephen in an amused drawl.
“We’d rather you didn’t, boys, Norman’s busy enough building the new extension you wanted. He can’t get on with that if you start blowing holes in the walls.”
Stephen pouted.
Claudia screamed and pointed to the door. “That wasn’t a mouse, it was a rat!”
Ryan swung around just in time to see something brown and furry shooting past the doorway and down the hall. Claudia was right; it looked very much like they did have unwanted visitors. “Come on, sweetie, stop whinging about your slippers and start tracking.”
The hallway was free of unwanted visitors, as was Claudia’s bedroom. After that, they widened the search. The mess in Cutter’s room could easily have been harbouring a herd of triceratops and the Lost Tribe of Israel, so they gave that up as a bad job. Helen’s room wasn’t much better. Just as they were plucking up the courage to extend the search to Leek’s bedroom, another shriek from Claudia took them in the direction of the living room at a run.
“They’re in front of the fire!”
Ryan looked over her shoulder. Stephen was going to be pleased, as it looked like they’d found his slippers. Someone had plonked them down in front of the new wood-burning stove that management had been talking about.
“Great, thanks, Claudia!” grinned Stephen.
Claudia still looked concerned. “That was what I saw in the hallway. They were… scurrying.” She shuddered.
Ryan looked at Stephen and they both shrugged. Weirder things had happened around here than slippers with a life of their own. But just to be on the safe side, he and Stephen executed a neat flanking manoeuvre that brought them up on either side of the worn, brown objects that might, many years ago, have been sheepskin.
Stephen stared down at his lost property with an even more puzzled expression on his face than the one he’d worn earlier. “Management, why have a pair of feet taken up residence in my slippers?”
“I think they were cold. The Duty Manager sounded even more shifty than usual.
Stephen grinned as though that explained everything, and Ryan was now totally convinced that he really had managed to shag him senseless.
“Management,” Ryan said, talking slowly and carefully, just in case he really was the only remaining bastion of sanity in the entire house. “Why is a pair of disembodied feet here in the first place?”
“Trust me, you really don’t want to know, boys,” said the Duty Manager, almost pleadingly. “We’ll get Stephen another pair of slippers, and I’m sure your new friends won’t turn out to be any trouble. They’re quite sweet, really.” She sounded hopeful, and was very definitely starting to wheedle, as well.
Ryan stared down at the slippers and their occupants. Pinned to the threadbare sheepskin trim were two small permanent residents’ passes. He had a nasty feeling someone had just had a birthday, but at least on this occasion he hadn’t woken up with a sore arse.
He smiled winningly at Claudia. “Well, the good news is that we haven’t got mice.”
“I’m not going to like this, am I, captain?”
Ryan stared down at the latest additions to the house. “Probably not,” he conceded, truthfully.