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fredbassettTitle : Tell the Truth and Shame the Devil
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 18
Characters : Danny/Lester
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Word Count : 7,900
Summary : When Lester doesn’t disclose the exact nature of an invitation that he has received in the post, Danny suspects their relationship is heading for the rocks.
A/N : Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
telperion_15’s birthday. I hope you have a lovely day! Set in my series featuring this pairing and follows Safe Shadows and The Lesser of Two Evils.
Danny heard the scraping sound of post being pushed through the letterbox and the soft rustle as it landed on the mat just inside the door. He wandered down the hallway, still in his dressing gown, and picked up the envelopes. Mainly the usual selection of junk mail and bills, by the look of it, but one envelope stood out from the rest addressed to Sir James Lester in bold, cursive handwriting in brown ink on expensive cream-coloured paper with some sort of embossed crest in the right-hand corner.
He wandered into the kitchen and dropped the mail on the large pine table, inhaling the rich aroma of coffee and the enticing smell of warm croissants. “Post,” he remarked, before pulling Lester into a hug and nuzzling his neck. “Do we have to go to work today?”
“Unless someone has declared a public holiday without me noticing, yes, I do believe our attendance is required in the madhouse that masquerades as our place of work. Dinosaurs won’t hunt themselves, you know, Quinn.”
“We haven’t had an anomaly for a week now. I’m getting bored just winding soldier boy up all day.”
Lester rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me your love-affair with the ventilation shafts is finally coming to an end?”
Danny grinned. “I wouldn’t go that far, guv. I’m sure there are still some bits of the ARC left that I haven’t explored…”
“You’re a bloody menace. Now do something useful and get the croissants out while I see which organisation is trying to extort money with menaces from me today.”
Lester quickly shuffled through the post, consigning most of it to the recycling bin immediately but lingering longer over the contents of the handwritten envelope. With a barely-perceptible sigh, he pushed what looked to be an invitation of some sort back into the envelope and tucked it into the letter rack at one end of the kitchen work surface.
Danny was half-tempted to ask what it was, but didn’t like to pry. It was probably an invitation to some posh function or another, judging by the writing and the quick glimpse he’d caught of the contents. The sort of function that Lester had almost certainly attended with his ex-wife, the sort of function where turning up with a scruffy ex-copper in tow would go down about as well as a turd in a swimming pool.
Danny grabbed the oven gloves and removed a tray of warm croissants, doing his best to dispel the small pang of… something he couldn’t quite put a name to. He’d been seeing Lester for nearly four months now. Their relationship was an open secret in the ARC and had elicited little in the way of disapproval, although he knew they were almost certainly the subject of much gossip behind closed doors. He now spent more time in Lester’s house than he did in his own flat. His motorbike lived in the corner of Lester’s garage, his books were by the side of the bed, he had his own toothbrush and toiletries in the bathroom and his own space in the wardrobe, but there were times when he still felt like an intruder in Lester’s life.
Not that his lover ever gave him that impression. Lester seemed genuinely happy to share his personal space with Danny and had never made any attempt to hide or deny the fact that they were now together, but Danny still couldn’t shake off the feeling that shacking up with the hired help wasn’t exactly a career-enhancing move and that one day Lester would wake up to that fact. And then the distance would gradually creep in, accompanied by the sort of gradual cooling that Danny had experienced before in relationships, not that he’d actually had many that had gone beyond one-night stands, mind you, so this was actually something new. Something that, if Danny was honest with himself, he was really rather enjoying. Something that he didn’t particularly want to see come to an end.
“Penny for them, Quinn?” The question broke into his thoughts and Danny realised he was standing there like an idiot, with the heat from the tray seeping through the oven gloves, reminding him of his inattention.
Danny quickly slid the croissants onto a plat and dropped the tray onto top of the hob before he burnt himself.
“Just working out how to piss soldier boy off today,” he lied glibly.
If Lester was unconvinced by Danny’s reply, he gave no sign of it but Danny couldn’t help being conscious of the fact that Lester hadn’t seen fit to tell him what it was he’d been invited to, either. Nor did he mention it on the drive to work, but Danny knew that the contents of the envelope had unsettled his lover in some indefinable way.
* * * * *
Lester rapped his knuckles sharply on the conference room table, doing his best to silence the hum of conversation. “Ladies and gentlemen…”
A paper aeroplane sailed from one side of the room to the other indicating that, as usual, Connor was focussed on matters other than Lester’s monthly budget review.
“As you are aware, the new Home Secretary is taking an interest…”
Which was clearly more than Captain Becker was. The man appeared to be staring up at the ceiling, a slight frown furrowing his forehead.
Lester wondered what he needed to do to get people’s attention in meetings these days. Remove all his clothes and dance on the table, perhaps?
He cleared his throat ostentatiously. “In the current economic climate…”
A hollow noise that sounded suspiciously like laughter came from somewhere above them.
Lester resisted the urge to look up. He wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction.
The sound of one of the ceiling tiles being prized up was loud in the silence that had descended on the room, and speaking of descents…
“Mr Quinn, how kind of you to join us… As I was just saying…”
Danny Quinn hung by his hands from the ceiling for a moment and then dropped onto the middle of the table, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet before executing a perfect somersault onto the floor at the far end of the table. The table shuddered slightly but fortunately appeared able to weather the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.
Becker glanced ostentatiously at the clock on the wall. “You’re late, Quinn, I was beginning to think you might have got stuck.”
Danny ostentatiously blew Becker a kiss. “I didn’t know you cared, soldier boy.”
“I don’t, and don’t call me…”
“Children!”
The word ricocheted from wall to wall, bouncing around the room like a round from one of Becker’s beloved guns. Five pairs of eyes turned expectantly in his direction and he saw money changing hands under the desk, confirming his suspicions that they were indeed running a betting pool on how long it would take him to raise his voice. He’d have to remember than one for next time.
Lester drew in a deep breath then exhaled slowly before starting again. “I have reviewed your expenses for the past…”
The sound of the Anomaly Detection Device drowned out what he had been about to say next and Lester watched in exasperation as the team made a disorderly dash for the door, boredom forgotten in the familiar rush of adrenaline.
He sighed theatrically. “I’ll just tell the Home Secretary to bugger the budget, shall I?”
* * * * *
As Danny approached the Lester’s office, he could hear the tone of voice Lester used when he was talking to his political lords and masters. It was careful, measured, giving away none of the irritation and frustration that he felt when dealing with people who cared more for outward appearance than substance, and were more concerned with budgets than with human life.
“Yes, Home Secretary, I can assure you that my team are fully aware of our immediate financial constraints but sadly, our recurrent visitors from the past are somewhat less accommodating on matters of the public purse…”
While Lester was talking on the telephone, Danny leaned against the door, his hair still damp from the shower he’d taken to rid himself of the duckweed acquired from an impromptu dip in the Serpentine. In response to Lester’s grimace at the telephone, Danny waggled his eyebrows comically and made a rude gesture with one hand.
“Absolutely, Home Secretary, my team leader is fully aware of the need to conserve taxpayers’ money…”
Danny’s speeded up the movement of his hand, making it abundantly clear what he thought of the need to wrangle dinosaurs on a shoestring. They needed more men, more effective weapons, better transport. You name it, they needed it. Since taking over leadership of the team, Danny was conscious of the fact that all they’d been able to do was fire-fight. They occupied an expensive building that was still half-empty as no one would give them the money for researchers, people who could maybe start to work out what the anomalies were all about and why they were happening. Danny was painfully aware of the fact that he was not a scientist like the late, lamented Nick Cutter, but even he knew that the anomalies should be studied properly, not just reacted to.
Connor Temple was a bright lad, but for all his knowledge of prehistoric creatures and computers, he wasn’t a physicist or an expert in magnetic fields or whatever they might need to get some real idea of what the hell was going on. But to bring in more people, they needed more money, and Lester was constantly having to fight just to preserve what they had, let to extract more, as his current conversation more than amply proved.
When Lester finally put the phone down he looked tired and Danny could see he had one of his headaches building. Danny glanced at his watch. It was 7pm and there was no way he was going to let Lester carry on working.
“Come on, guv. Time to go home. My stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.”
Lester glared at the phone. “I could think of some throats I wouldn’t mind cutting. I’ve got a report to finish, Danny. Don’t wait for me. You go home. I’ll see you in the morning.”
The addition of those last few words made something inside Danny turn cold. By home, Lester clearly meant Danny’s flat, not Lester’s house. Not the place he’d actually come to think of as home. He opened his mouth to protest, but shut it again before he could make a tit of himself. He wasn’t going to come over like a teenaged girl being dumped by her first boyfriend. If Lester wanted some space, he was entitled to it and Danny wouldn’t make things difficult.
The invitation – or whatever it was – had no doubt brought it home rather too forcibly to Lester that the circles he moved in would not welcome a ginger-haired ex-copper with a tendency to sound like an extra from Only Fools and Horses in their midst. Sir James Lester would do far better by himself if he took up with a nice 30-something who worked in an art gallery.
“Sure thing,” he said lightly. “Don’t work too late.”
But Lester’s attention was already focussed on the papers on his desk and Danny doubted his words had even been heard.
* * * * *
The headache pounding behind his temples hadn’t quite escalated into a migraine but Lester had to admit it wasn’t for lack of goading on his part. He’d worked on finance reports until well after 11pm and had half-considered spending the night in one of the bunkrooms but, if truth be told, he just wanted to snatch a few hours in his own bed, spooned up behind Danny, doing his best to forget the pressures of the day.
He pulled the car into the cobbled mews behind his tall townhouse and pressed the button on his key fob to activate the garage doors. As the automatic light came on and the doors opened outwards, the first thing Lester noticed was the lack of Danny’s motorbike in its accustomed corner.
It looked unpleasantly like Danny had decided – reasonably enough – to go back to his own flat for the night, probably sick of waiting up for him. The house seemed strangely empty without him, and Lester quickly realised that no one had actually been there since they’d both left that morning, so it looked like Danny had just gone straight home. Lester had been intending to make himself a sandwich from some left-over chicken in the fridge, but the unaccustomed emptiness that had greeted him like an old and distinctly unwelcome friend had done a very good job of killing his appetite and all he ended up doing was swallowing a couple of painkillers and going straight to bed, conscious of the fact that he would probably regret it in the morning.
The bed was cold. The book Danny had been reading the previous night was still open on the bedside table, spine carelessly bent in a way that had led to much debate about the proper way to treat books. Danny always contended they were simply inanimate objects, whereas Lester insisted on them being treated with what he considered proper respect.
Lester shed his clothes carelessly for once, too tired to bother hanging his suit up properly, and simply burrowed under the duvet, flicking off the light and doing his best to ignore the headache that had take up residence in his skull. Despite been bone-weary, sleep steadfastly refused to grant him any relief. Figures from innumerable spreadsheets danced in front of his eyes, competing for space in his brain with the latest demands from Whitehall for what they called further efficiencies, Government-speak for cuts.
By 3am, Lester felt like shit and was no nearer to getting any rest. If Danny had been there he would no doubt have found a way to bring Lester’s demons to bay, but he wasn’t, and Lester knew perfectly well that he only had himself to blame for that. He’d already replayed their last conversation in his mind and reached the inescapable conclusion that he’d been an idiot. By telling Danny that he’d see him in the morning, Lester had sent the wrong message entirely. He’d meant that he’d see Danny when they woke up together in bed. The words had been meant to signify, ‘Don’t wait up, darling, I’m going to be ridiculously late’, but had come out suggesting something entirely different, but Lester had been too bloody preoccupied with his conversation with the sodding Home Secretary to have chosen his words properly or wised up to what he’d done until it was too late. And now he was tossing and turning, unable to sleep and wanting nothing more than to pick up the phone and hear Danny’s voice telling him he’d been a wanker.
At 5.47am, Lester gave up the struggle for sleep and got up. The headache had been reduced to a dull throb somewhere at the back of his skull, but before he could take any more tablets, Lester knew he would have to eat something, so he may as well just get up, grab some toast and coffee and make his way back to the ARC before the traffic started to build up. A shower made him feel slightly more human and a thick slab of toast and butter, washed down with some fresh coffee, improved matters further. By 6.50, Lester was back at his desk, after earning himself some surprised looks from the guards on the main gates and the bored duty technician sitting in front of the ADD and reading a magazine that looked like it had come off a top shelf somewhere. The man quickly slipped it under the desk and gave Lester an overly-bright smile.
Lester had every intention of apologising to Danny as soon as his lover arrived at work. If he’d learnt anything from more years than he cared to remember of a deeply unsatisfactory marriage, he’d learnt that problems were better brought out into the open. He knew he should have told Danny what was bothering as soon as he’d opened that bloody envelope, but he hadn’t known how to broach the matter, not wanting to risk a brush off, and so he’d fallen back on the habits of a lifetime and had retreated into his work, wrapping it around him like Kevlar.
He really did have every good intention. But he was also very well-acquainted with that particular road to hell…
* * * * *
“I don’t think that went too badly, all things considered,” Danny said brightly.
“What part of the triceratops in St Paul’s Cathedral did you fail to notice, Danny?” Becker demanded.
“Lighten up, soldier boy, no one got hurt.” Danny was strongly tempted to ruffle Becker’s hair, but didn’t think he was likely to escape that particular gesture unscathed.
“Maybe there is something in this miracle lark after all,” Connor said quickly, cutting across Becker’s inevitable response. “I thought that vicar bloke was quite nice about it in the circumstances.”
You would have had to be even more insensitive than Danny not to have noticed Lester wince before declaring, “That vicar bloke – as you call him, Temple – was the Dean of St Pauls. Jenny is currently attempting to convince him not to press charges against the students responsible for today’s… prank.”
“That means you, sunshine,” Danny commented, ruffling Connor’s hair instead.
With the air of a long-suffering headmaster, Lester waved them all out of his office telling them he wanted their reports on his desk before any of them even considered going to the pub. Danny grinned as he headed off to his office. It was Friday afternoon and he fully intended to drag Lester out with them to their local hostelry, aka The Black Swan, to break the ice that seemed to have grown up between them over the last couple of weeks.
At 5pm, with the ARC’s staff already steaming for the main doors like a herd of migrating wildebeest, Danny emailed his report to Lester and prepared to close down his computer. Out of habit, he hit Send/Receive one final time and was surprised to find an out of office reply from Lester appear on his screen. With mounting incredulity, Danny checked his watch. 5.02pm. Lester never left his office that early, not even on a Friday. Danny grabbed his motorbike jacket and made for the door. Lester must have put the out of office on in case someone from the Home Office decided to hound him over their latest demands for costs savings. That line of reasoning took an abrupt dive off a cliff when Danny saw that Lester’s office was already in darkness.
Lorraine Wickes, Lester’s ever-efficient secretary, looked up when Danny appeared in the doorway and smiled at him, but Danny caught a quickly-concealed flash of surprise in her eyes.
“Not like the old bugger to leave on time,” he commented.
The surprise slid seamlessly into unease and Danny realised he’d just sent a very clear message to Lorraine that he and Lester hadn’t actually seen anything of each other outside work for quite some while. Lester had obviously left on time to go somewhere that Lorraine had clearly expected Danny to know about, and he’d just made it abundantly plain that he didn’t have a bloody clue what was going on.
“He only left a few moments ago,” Lorraine said quietly. “I saw him heading in the direction of the loo first, so you’ll probably catch him in the garage if you’re quick.”
Danny opened his mouth to say that he had no intention of chasing after Lester, what the man did in his own time was his business, but the look that he got from Lorraine made him bite back the words. He’d actually spent a fucking miserable couple of weeks trying to work out what the hell had gone wrong between him and Lester and frankly, he was bloody fed up with feeling like a love-sick teenager. If it was over, then it was bloody well over. But he wanted to hear it from the horse’s mouth.
On impulse, Danny turned on his heel and headed down the ramp, his long legs carrying him quickly into the indoor garage. Lester was just closing the boot of his car. The sound of Danny’s footsteps made him look up. He smiled almost regretfully and Danny was struck by how exhausted he looked, but in spite of that, the man still looked as immaculate as ever in his Savile Row suit, handmade Italian shoes, Hilditch and Key shirt and flamboyant silk tie. The tie that Danny had bought him for Christmas…
Whatever Danny had been intending to say died an abrupt death and he ended up running a hand through his hair, conscious of the fact that he was still grubby from their mad caper in the cathedral that morning, his teeshirt ripped and probably smelly, wearing jeans that had seen better days and a pair of scruffy trainers. He wasn’t a good catch by any definition, so it was hardly surprising Lester had decided to throw him back.
“Got a date somewhere, guv?” he said, falling back on the chirpy Cockney sparrow act that he had got used to using as a shield.
“The highlight of London’s social calendar,” Lester said heavily. “Lady Alice Wetherby’s soirée. An exquisite form of torture designed specifically for people who don’t eat their greens and refuse to give their staff time off to watch Royal Weddings.”
In spite of himself, Danny grinned. “You like greens, and the whole bloody lot of us were on high alert during the Royal Wedding, so you can’t be blamed for that.” He took a deep breath and said, as carelessly as he could, “Have a nice evening, James.”
Lester’s eyebrows shot up. “Quinn, I would rather pull my own teeth out with rusty pliers and stick slivers of bamboo under my fingernails as an encore. I met my bloody wife at one of those damned parties and the wretched woman will no doubt be there tonight as well, so I think my chances of having a nice evening are about as high as Captain Becker’s chances of winning the Nobel Peace Prize.”
With that, Lester turned away, yanking open the car door with unaccustomed force.
Caught wholly unawares by the vehemence of Lester’s speech, Danny forgot that he’d resolved just to walk away from this relationship the way he’d done with all the others. He closed the distance between them in two long strides and said quietly, but forcefully, “I’m sorry that I’m not the sort of bloke that you can take to a do like that, James, but do us all a favour and find yourself a nice girlfriend instead, someone that can make you happy. Someone that you can be seen in public with.” The words came out with more bitterness than Danny had expected and a sudden flush of embarrassment rose up his cheeks. Jesus Christ, now he really was acting like a complete prat.
He turned away sharply, only to find his arm caught in a surprisingly firm grip.
“Danny, what the fuck are you talking about?”
Embarrassment gave way to a flicker of anger. “It all went wrong the night that bloody invitation arrived, didn’t it, guv? That rather brought it home that I’m not exactly the sort you can take to a posh do…”
Lester’s eyes widened and Danny saw a flash of something that looked dangerously close to amusement mixed with… relief? Danny had just made a bloody idiot of himself, he knew he had, and his best course of action now was just to laugh the whole fucking thing off, join the others in the pub and get rat-arsed.
It wasn’t hard to twist out of Lester’s grip… but a moment later he was reminded rather forcibly that Lester had attended all manner of personal protection courses over a long and somewhat unusual career in the upper echelons of government as he found himself rather expertly flipped around and backed up against the side of Lester’s car.
“What do you take me for, Quinn?” The words were quietly spoken, but held an edge that would have made even the most reckless member of the Special Forces team think twice about challenging.
Danny sighed. “Someone who has quite sensibly decided that slumming it isn’t exactly a good career move.”
“And you’ve based that earth-shatteringly incorrect deduction on precisely what evidence, ex-Detective Constable Quinn?”
“On the fact that whatever we had went down the pan the morning that bloody invitation arrived.”
Danny was starting to sound peevish now and he knew it. He was already cursing the fact that he hadn’t just been able to leave well alone. Oh no, in typical Quinn fashion he’d had to start pushing until Lester had pushed back. And now he just wanted to put the whole thing back in a box, slam the lid shut and walk away, but from the look in Lester’s grey-green eyes, that wasn’t going to be an option, was it?
Lester drew in a long slow breath, held it for a moment and then exhaled equally slowly. “Danny, if we’re going to have our first lover’s tiff, do you think we could possibly have it somewhere more private than here? I know it’s a Friday, but the staff haven’t quite finished their lemming-like rush out of the doors, and Mrs Cooper has already spent the last few minutes pretending to look for her car keys. I’d hate to be responsible for providing a viable alternative to the horrors of karaoke.”
A quick glance over Lester’s shoulder revealed Marilyn Cooper, one of the telephonists, standing in front of her Peugeot 406, ostentatiously lining up the contents of her handbag on the roof, no doubt in the hope of being able to relate the entire conversation verbatim in the staff room on Monday morning.
A moment later the phase ‘our first lover’s tiff’ elbowed itself rudely to the forefront of Danny’s mind and proceeded to stamp all over his righteous anger. Danny might not have had the benefit of a university education, but he knew that the word ‘first’ rather implied that a ‘second’ lover’s tiff might be on the cards at some point, which also implied that whatever he and Lester had between them might not actually be over. Those four little words lined up in his brain, took a bow, and danced away, leaving him feeling uncomfortably like someone who had just managed to make himself took a total plonker.
“If the wind changes, your face will stick like that, Quinn,” Lester remarked. “Now get in, and we’ll talk about this at home. And after that, we will both do penance for our stupidity by attending that fucking soirée.”
* * * * *
As he put the car into reverse and backed out of the parking space, Lester was quite proud of the fact that he’d managed to put the key in the ignition without his hand shaking.
He even managed a regal wave in the direction of Marilyn Cooper, ignoring Danny’s mutter of, “Nosy old cow.”
The rest of the drive was accomplished in silence. Lester had more respect for his car than to even consider having a row whilst negotiating London traffic on a Friday evening. He also needed time to think. Casting his mind back over the past couple of weeks, it was all to easy to see how Danny had reached the conclusion that Lester had decided to finish with him without having the grace to actually mention the fact. Lester’s anger at being taken for a stuck-up arsehole was tempered by the knowledge that he actually spent quite a lot of his time deliberately acting like one, so he could hardly blame Danny for putting two and two together and making ten. Or maybe one hundred and ten, in this particular case, but that still wasn’t entirely the point, and he was damned if he was going to go down the route of deflecting his anger at himself onto Danny. He’d made that sort of mistake often enough in the past.
They maintained the same silence up the steps to the back door and into the house. By the time they reached the kitchen, Lester was fully expecting Danny’s anger to have reached boiling point again, so it was with a degree of surprise that he found himself being pulled into a bruising kiss instead.
When Danny had finished stealing his breath away, Lester pulled back slightly and looked up at him, his face deliberately devoid of its habitual mockery. “I’m sorry, Danny. I really am a stupidly insensitive fucker, aren’t I?”
One of Danny’s trademark lop-sided grins quirked his lips. “Yes, you probably are, and I’m a complete twat with a chip on his shoulder the size of a Giant Sequoia. Shall we call it quits and cut straight to the spectacular make-up sex?”
Lester cast a regretful look at the clock on the wall. “Not if we’re going to get to Alice Wetherby’s by eight o’clock.”
“You’re serious about this, aren’t you, James?”
It was Lester’s turn to grin. “Deadly serious, Danny boy. You are going to be introduced to the cream of London society as my significant other… you’re even going to get to meet my ex-wife. And after that, it’ll be entirely up to you to decide what happens next. But if I have any say in the matter, you’ll come home with me, unceremoniously divest me of my clothing and fuck my brains out. How does that sound?”
Danny pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to his lips. “Bloody brilliant. Get yourself into your glad rags while I call a taxi. I presume the address is on the invite? We’ll need to swing past my flat on the way so I can get changed, so get your skates on, sweetheart.”
A flurry of activity worthy of the ARC’s rapid response teams at their best saw Lester showered and changed into evening dress in less than ten minutes, a time that Danny managed to beat by one minute 53 seconds precisely, and by dint of their taxi driver’s knowledge of some highly obscure and possibly even illegal central London short cuts, they arrived outside Lady Alice Wetherby’s imposing Georgian mansion in Belgravia at exactly eight o’clock. Fashionable lateness cut no ice in the Wetherby household.
Lester allowed himself a moment to savour the sight of Danny Quinn, resplendent in a white dinner jacket, black waistcoat and black bowtie. His lover’s trousers were perfectly creased and his shoes shone with polish. Danny ran a hand self-consciously over his carefully-slicked hair and gave Lester a slight smile.
“Well, do I pass muster?”
Lester smiled and, heedless of an audience that consisted of Lady Wetherby’s uniformed doorman, numerous guests and a woman walking an enormous pink poodle, he pulled Danny’s head down and gave him a light kiss on the mouth accompanied by just the barest hint of tongue. “You look bloody stunning.”
“You don’t look too bad yourself, guv,” Danny said, his eyes sparkling with barely-suppressed mischief.
Moments later, with a glass of vintage champagne in hand, Lester weaved his way expertly through the crowd in search of their hostess. Lady Alice was a beautiful woman in her early 80s, wearing an elegant plum-coloured silk evening dress with a matching pashmina shawl draped loosely around her shoulders. Lester had known her for 15 years and he always swore she didn’t look a day older than when he’d first met her. His intense dislike of her annual soirée owed more to the problems that had blighted the last few years of his marriage than it did to anything else, and as he kissed her lightly-powdered cheeks, Lester felt a pang of guilt over his ungracious words in the car park.
“Alice, it’s lovely to see you. May I introduce my partner, Danny Quinn?”
Alice Wetherby’s smile was both warm and genuine. “James, I can’t tell you how pleased I am for you.” Her sharp blue eyes gave Danny the once-over then she extended her hand, the twinkle in her eyes easily matching the one in his. “Meet me in the conservatory in an hour’s time and I’ll tell you all James’s deepest, darkest secrets, young man.”
“Does that mean I’ll get the ‘if you hurt him you’ll answer to me’ talk as well?” Danny asked with a wide smile as he gave a slight bow over her hand that contrived to be both elegant and charming.
“It most certainly does. I can see that we’re going to deal very well together,” their hostess declared before lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “James needed someone to bring him out of himself.”
Five minutes later, hidden from view behind an enormous potted palm, Danny demanded, “Well, did I pass the test?”
Lester laughed. “You do realise that she was serious about meeting you in the conservatory, don’t you? And yes, you passed the test. She likes you. Now, steel yourself. My ex-wife has just arrived and she appears to have the Honourable David Gleeson in tow. He’s totally charming, rich as Croesus and doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together, which is no doubt why Caroline likes him so much. By the way, she’s revered to her own name since the divorce, so it’s Barton, not Lester.”
* * * * *
As the evening wore on, Danny veered wildly between enjoying himself and wanting to find a quiet corner where he could pound his head repeatedly against the elegant wallpaper. The grilling Alice Wetherby had subjected him to in the conservatory – carried out with ruthless upper-class charm – had been one of the high points of the evening, but without a shadow of a doubt, the five minutes he’d spent making awkward small-talk with Lester’s ex-wife had been one of the low points. Another low point had been ten minutes of equally excruciating conversation with his former Chief Constable.
On the plus side, Alice Wetherby’s staff were attentive when it came to regularly dispensing more of the vintage champagne and the food was excellent. A positive army of waiters constantly carried around trays of some of the most delicious snacks Danny had ever tasted, and a large and well-stocked buffet provided more substantial fare.
He discovered quite quickly that it was not de rigueur for couples to remain together for too long during the course of the evening and in consequence he found himself talking to a constant procession of different people from theatre directors to government ministers, via actors, charity workers and numerous others he couldn’t even put a name to. He soon discovered that Lester was well-known to a large number of people, but even more surprising was the fact that most of them didn’t seem to bat an eyelid when they discovered the exact nature of Danny’s relationship with him, although he did over-hear the words ‘mid-life crisis’ rapidly followed by the equally-damning ‘bit of rough’ dripping from Caroline Barton’s fangs, punctuated by ripples of laughter from around her from some of the more obviously vacuous guests, although he was also conscious of the fact that the gibe made her boyfriend look distinctly uncomfortable, which was a point in his favour in Danny’s book.
An arm slid around his waist and Lester gave him a light hug. “Ignore her. She’s actually not as much of a bitch as she likes to make out, but I bring out the worst in her now, which is a shame, as I’d prefer to keep things civil for the sake of the kids.”
Danny nodded. He knew that the separation from his children had been difficult for Lester. He’d done his best to be a good father, despite the constant pressure of a series of jobs that he could never talk about at home, but the anomaly project had just been the final straw on an already over-burdened camel’s back and he’d missed one birthday party too many. Divorce papers hadn’t been far behind.
“Her boyfriend seems nice enough,” Danny said, after a rapid search for something suitably non-committal by way of reply.
“He hasn’t got a harmful bone in his body,” Lester said with a faintly rueful smile. “His family came over with William the Conqueror and successive generations have been charming their way through life ever since. The last brain cell died out at about the time of William and Mary, but as they own almost as much of the country as the Duke of Westminster, it obviously wasn’t any hindrance. The kids adore him,” he added quietly.
Danny slipped his hand into Lester’s and gave a reassuring squeeze. “Better than adoring a total bastard. At least he isn’t going to be dripping poison into their ears.” Danny tugged at Lester’s fingers and muttered, “I need a slash. Be a nice, helpful boyfriend and show me where the loo is. I went looking five minutes ago and I swear I ran into the Lost Tribe of Israel and Elvis Presley but I still didn’t find the bogs. This place is a bloody rabbit warren.” He was lying through his teeth, but he hoped Lester was too distracted to notice.
They made their way through the crowd thronging the ground floor to a wood-panelled door in a wide corridor. A discreet green dial signified that the room was unoccupied and before Lester had time to even let out a squawk of protest, Danny had opened the door, dragged him inside and locked it behind them.
They were in an immaculate anteroom tastefully decorated in ivory and pale green, with a gleaming white marble washbasin set on a black marble counter. A pile of fresh handtowels were folded neatly next to a large bowl of lavender flowers. An inner door led to what Danny presumed would be an equally impressive loo.
“Bloody ‘ell, you could move the party in here and still ‘ave room to spare,” Danny commented as he leaned back against the thick wooden door, blocking Lester’s escape route.
“If I’m not mistaken, that exactly what you have just done,” Lester replied acerbically, but the appraising look in his eyes as they travelled up and down Danny’s body was nowhere near as cool as his actual words. “You do realise that neither of our reputations are going to survive a tryst in a toilet, don’t you, Quinn?”
“Well, it’s hardly Hampstead Heath, guv,” Danny pointed out, slipping back into his self-appointed role as court jester. “Anyway, I haven’t got a reputation to lose, the Chief Constable made that perfectly plain.”
“The Chief Constable picks up rent boys in Soho and has done for years.”
Danny’s eyes widened. “You have got good sources. Apparently his only saving grace is that he pays well and doesn’t slap anyone around.”
“So I’ve been told,” Lester said, leaning back against the marble slab behind him. “But you didn’t drag me in here to talk about your ex-boss’s sexual proclivities, did you, Danny?”
“I wanted a slash, I told you.”
“Liar. I saw you coming out of here just before you snagged that last glass of champagne about ten minutes ago.”
Danny dropped a hand to his groin and palmed a rapidly-burgeoning erection. The sight of James Lester dressed to the nines had been dangerously close to giving him a hard-on since they’d left the flat two hours ago and the knowledge that his lover had been wholly complicit in Danny’s not very subtle subterfuge to get them alone together had just sent a jolt of adrenalin through his system.
Lester smiled and shifted position to spread his legs slightly as he opened the button on his dinner jacket and let it fall open to reveal his own erection tenting his trousers below the shiny black cummerbund around his waist. Danny pushed himself away from the door and went quickly to his knees at Lester’s feet, easing his lover’s zip down and freeing his hard cock from a pair of purple silk boxers.
“Nice,” Danny murmured appreciatively.
“My cock or my underwear?” Lester enquired.
Danny licked lightly over the swollen head. “Both, if you must know.”
Lester ran his hand through Danny’s hair, making it stand back up in its accustomed spikes. “Less chit-chat, dear boy, Alice’s remarkably fine champagne awaits us, and no doubt an orderly queue is already starting to form outside…”
“I thought you wanted me to fuck your brains out…”
“I do,” Lester conceded. “This is simply a small appetizer before the main course. But I hope that will take place back in the comfort of the bedroom. I fear my knees are no longer up to prolonged contact with hard surfaces.”
Danny sat back on his heels and looked up at Lester, not bothering to hide his amusement. “You’re not quite as repressed as you like to make out, are you, darling?”
“I can assure you that this is my very first sexual encounter in such circumstances, so I do hope you’re going to make it memorable.”
“It’ll be bloody memorable if I didn’t manage to lock that door properly,” Danny murmured, as he took Lester’s cock in hand and started to stroke it firmly from root to tip. “You’ll just have to make sure you come quietly.” As he swiped his tongue over Lester’s slit, Danny reflected on the fact that although Lester was now more open and demonstrative in bed that he had been, he was actually anything but a noisy lover, something that Danny was suddenly determined to change before the night was out. But even he had to acknowledge that the toilet in someone else’s mansion probably wasn’t the ideal spot to encourage Lester to me more vocal.
Danny wrapped his lips around Lester’s hard cock and slid down the shaft sucking and using his tongue in ways that he knew always drove his lover wild. Despite the time they’d been together, the novelty of blowjobs had nowhere near worn off and Danny was always more than happy to oblige. Lester’s cock slid over the roof of his mouth and although there was no way Danny would be able to deep-throat in this position his height did give him some advantages.
Danny pulled back far enough for a moment to murmur, “Pass me one of those towels, James. I don’t want a wet patch on these trousers and I don’t reckon you want my come all over yours, do you?”
“Romantic as ever, Quinn,” Lester chucked, reaching out and dropping one of the small, scented towels into Danny’s hand.
Danny’s own dick was already hard and leaking, and he used the moisture to slick the movements of his hand. This wasn’t going to take long for either of them. Lester ran his hands through Danny’s hair and was clearly doing his best – not entirely successfully – to stifle a moan. Danny grinned around his mouthful and redoubled his efforts. A moment later, thick salty fluid coated his tongue. Two quick strokes from Danny’s hand were enough to bring him off as he sucked the last drops from Lester’s cock, savouring the taste, something he knew Lester’s last boyfriend and his ex-wife had both disliked intensely. It had taken Danny quite some while to prevent Lester instinctively pulling back before his climax for that reason.
Danny enjoyed the fact that Lester now trusted him enough to come in his mouth without the slight but noticeable uncertainty that had originally been present during oral sex. He stood up, wiped his hands on the towel he’d used to prevent his own come staining Lester’s immaculate suit and tossed it accurately into the nearby wicker basket. He tucked himself away and watched in amusement as Lester fumbled with his own clothing, falling somewhat short of his usual neat efficiency. Danny leaned in and captured Lester’s lips in an open-mouthed kiss during which Lester shamelessly chased his own taste around Danny’s mouth with an agile tongue. Oh yes, Lester was definitely becoming less inhibited.
While his lover smoothed his hair back into place and made sure that he was fit to be seen in public, Danny quickly washed his hands and tamed his own hair. Once he was certain that no evidence of their activities had been left behind, he put a conspiratorial finger to his lips and made his way over to the door, listening for any footsteps in the corridor outside before opening the door, stepping out and finding himself face to face with the Honourable David Gleeson, his lover’s ex-wife’s current boyfriend, a description that was even more of a mouthful than the one he’d just had.
Danny gave a quick shake of his head and said quietly, “I can’t get the flush to work. You wouldn’t do me a favour and discreetly tip someone the wink while I stand guard, would you?”
As soon as the man had obligingly gone off in search of a member of staff, Danny signalled that the coast was clear and Lester slipped out into the empty corridor looking wholly unlike a man who’d just had his brains sucked out through his dick.
A few minutes later, glasses of champagne in hand, they were both back in circulation, although the look of good-natured amusement on David Gleeson’s handsome face did leave Danny wondering whether the man really was quite as clueless as Lester had made out.
* * * * *
“That was nowhere near as bad as I’d been expecting,” Danny said truthfully, as they settled into the back of the taxi just after midnight.
Lester rested his hand on his lover’s thigh. “Thank you for coming with me.”
Danny’s hand covered his and gave a slight squeeze. “You only had to ask, James.”
“I know, and I’m a bloody idiot,” Lester admitted. “But I’d come to associate Alice’s parties with the war-zone my marriage had become and I hadn’t realised quite how much baggage I’d been dragging around with me. I couldn’t imagine for a second that you’d want to get involved with that sort of scene and unfortunately, it rather goes with the territory so far as I’m concerned.” He stroked Danny’s fingers. “I’m not exactly much of a catch, Danny.”
Danny laughed. “You and me both, matey, so we’ll call it quits, shall we?” He leaned over and nipped Lester’s ear. “So, what happens next?”
“I gave you the choice, remember?” Lester said, doing his best to ignore the uncomfortable flutter in his stomach.
Danny appeared quite happy sucking his earlobe but eventually he murmured, “I do believe my cock is on a promise so far as your arse is concerned.”
Lester smiled contentedly. That was a promise he’d be very happy to honour.
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 18
Characters : Danny/Lester
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Word Count : 7,900
Summary : When Lester doesn’t disclose the exact nature of an invitation that he has received in the post, Danny suspects their relationship is heading for the rocks.
A/N : Written for
telperion_15’s birthday. I hope you have a lovely day! Set in my series featuring this pairing and follows Safe Shadows and The Lesser of Two Evils.Danny heard the scraping sound of post being pushed through the letterbox and the soft rustle as it landed on the mat just inside the door. He wandered down the hallway, still in his dressing gown, and picked up the envelopes. Mainly the usual selection of junk mail and bills, by the look of it, but one envelope stood out from the rest addressed to Sir James Lester in bold, cursive handwriting in brown ink on expensive cream-coloured paper with some sort of embossed crest in the right-hand corner.
He wandered into the kitchen and dropped the mail on the large pine table, inhaling the rich aroma of coffee and the enticing smell of warm croissants. “Post,” he remarked, before pulling Lester into a hug and nuzzling his neck. “Do we have to go to work today?”
“Unless someone has declared a public holiday without me noticing, yes, I do believe our attendance is required in the madhouse that masquerades as our place of work. Dinosaurs won’t hunt themselves, you know, Quinn.”
“We haven’t had an anomaly for a week now. I’m getting bored just winding soldier boy up all day.”
Lester rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me your love-affair with the ventilation shafts is finally coming to an end?”
Danny grinned. “I wouldn’t go that far, guv. I’m sure there are still some bits of the ARC left that I haven’t explored…”
“You’re a bloody menace. Now do something useful and get the croissants out while I see which organisation is trying to extort money with menaces from me today.”
Lester quickly shuffled through the post, consigning most of it to the recycling bin immediately but lingering longer over the contents of the handwritten envelope. With a barely-perceptible sigh, he pushed what looked to be an invitation of some sort back into the envelope and tucked it into the letter rack at one end of the kitchen work surface.
Danny was half-tempted to ask what it was, but didn’t like to pry. It was probably an invitation to some posh function or another, judging by the writing and the quick glimpse he’d caught of the contents. The sort of function that Lester had almost certainly attended with his ex-wife, the sort of function where turning up with a scruffy ex-copper in tow would go down about as well as a turd in a swimming pool.
Danny grabbed the oven gloves and removed a tray of warm croissants, doing his best to dispel the small pang of… something he couldn’t quite put a name to. He’d been seeing Lester for nearly four months now. Their relationship was an open secret in the ARC and had elicited little in the way of disapproval, although he knew they were almost certainly the subject of much gossip behind closed doors. He now spent more time in Lester’s house than he did in his own flat. His motorbike lived in the corner of Lester’s garage, his books were by the side of the bed, he had his own toothbrush and toiletries in the bathroom and his own space in the wardrobe, but there were times when he still felt like an intruder in Lester’s life.
Not that his lover ever gave him that impression. Lester seemed genuinely happy to share his personal space with Danny and had never made any attempt to hide or deny the fact that they were now together, but Danny still couldn’t shake off the feeling that shacking up with the hired help wasn’t exactly a career-enhancing move and that one day Lester would wake up to that fact. And then the distance would gradually creep in, accompanied by the sort of gradual cooling that Danny had experienced before in relationships, not that he’d actually had many that had gone beyond one-night stands, mind you, so this was actually something new. Something that, if Danny was honest with himself, he was really rather enjoying. Something that he didn’t particularly want to see come to an end.
“Penny for them, Quinn?” The question broke into his thoughts and Danny realised he was standing there like an idiot, with the heat from the tray seeping through the oven gloves, reminding him of his inattention.
Danny quickly slid the croissants onto a plat and dropped the tray onto top of the hob before he burnt himself.
“Just working out how to piss soldier boy off today,” he lied glibly.
If Lester was unconvinced by Danny’s reply, he gave no sign of it but Danny couldn’t help being conscious of the fact that Lester hadn’t seen fit to tell him what it was he’d been invited to, either. Nor did he mention it on the drive to work, but Danny knew that the contents of the envelope had unsettled his lover in some indefinable way.
* * * * *
Lester rapped his knuckles sharply on the conference room table, doing his best to silence the hum of conversation. “Ladies and gentlemen…”
A paper aeroplane sailed from one side of the room to the other indicating that, as usual, Connor was focussed on matters other than Lester’s monthly budget review.
“As you are aware, the new Home Secretary is taking an interest…”
Which was clearly more than Captain Becker was. The man appeared to be staring up at the ceiling, a slight frown furrowing his forehead.
Lester wondered what he needed to do to get people’s attention in meetings these days. Remove all his clothes and dance on the table, perhaps?
He cleared his throat ostentatiously. “In the current economic climate…”
A hollow noise that sounded suspiciously like laughter came from somewhere above them.
Lester resisted the urge to look up. He wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction.
The sound of one of the ceiling tiles being prized up was loud in the silence that had descended on the room, and speaking of descents…
“Mr Quinn, how kind of you to join us… As I was just saying…”
Danny Quinn hung by his hands from the ceiling for a moment and then dropped onto the middle of the table, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet before executing a perfect somersault onto the floor at the far end of the table. The table shuddered slightly but fortunately appeared able to weather the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.
Becker glanced ostentatiously at the clock on the wall. “You’re late, Quinn, I was beginning to think you might have got stuck.”
Danny ostentatiously blew Becker a kiss. “I didn’t know you cared, soldier boy.”
“I don’t, and don’t call me…”
“Children!”
The word ricocheted from wall to wall, bouncing around the room like a round from one of Becker’s beloved guns. Five pairs of eyes turned expectantly in his direction and he saw money changing hands under the desk, confirming his suspicions that they were indeed running a betting pool on how long it would take him to raise his voice. He’d have to remember than one for next time.
Lester drew in a deep breath then exhaled slowly before starting again. “I have reviewed your expenses for the past…”
The sound of the Anomaly Detection Device drowned out what he had been about to say next and Lester watched in exasperation as the team made a disorderly dash for the door, boredom forgotten in the familiar rush of adrenaline.
He sighed theatrically. “I’ll just tell the Home Secretary to bugger the budget, shall I?”
* * * * *
As Danny approached the Lester’s office, he could hear the tone of voice Lester used when he was talking to his political lords and masters. It was careful, measured, giving away none of the irritation and frustration that he felt when dealing with people who cared more for outward appearance than substance, and were more concerned with budgets than with human life.
“Yes, Home Secretary, I can assure you that my team are fully aware of our immediate financial constraints but sadly, our recurrent visitors from the past are somewhat less accommodating on matters of the public purse…”
While Lester was talking on the telephone, Danny leaned against the door, his hair still damp from the shower he’d taken to rid himself of the duckweed acquired from an impromptu dip in the Serpentine. In response to Lester’s grimace at the telephone, Danny waggled his eyebrows comically and made a rude gesture with one hand.
“Absolutely, Home Secretary, my team leader is fully aware of the need to conserve taxpayers’ money…”
Danny’s speeded up the movement of his hand, making it abundantly clear what he thought of the need to wrangle dinosaurs on a shoestring. They needed more men, more effective weapons, better transport. You name it, they needed it. Since taking over leadership of the team, Danny was conscious of the fact that all they’d been able to do was fire-fight. They occupied an expensive building that was still half-empty as no one would give them the money for researchers, people who could maybe start to work out what the anomalies were all about and why they were happening. Danny was painfully aware of the fact that he was not a scientist like the late, lamented Nick Cutter, but even he knew that the anomalies should be studied properly, not just reacted to.
Connor Temple was a bright lad, but for all his knowledge of prehistoric creatures and computers, he wasn’t a physicist or an expert in magnetic fields or whatever they might need to get some real idea of what the hell was going on. But to bring in more people, they needed more money, and Lester was constantly having to fight just to preserve what they had, let to extract more, as his current conversation more than amply proved.
When Lester finally put the phone down he looked tired and Danny could see he had one of his headaches building. Danny glanced at his watch. It was 7pm and there was no way he was going to let Lester carry on working.
“Come on, guv. Time to go home. My stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.”
Lester glared at the phone. “I could think of some throats I wouldn’t mind cutting. I’ve got a report to finish, Danny. Don’t wait for me. You go home. I’ll see you in the morning.”
The addition of those last few words made something inside Danny turn cold. By home, Lester clearly meant Danny’s flat, not Lester’s house. Not the place he’d actually come to think of as home. He opened his mouth to protest, but shut it again before he could make a tit of himself. He wasn’t going to come over like a teenaged girl being dumped by her first boyfriend. If Lester wanted some space, he was entitled to it and Danny wouldn’t make things difficult.
The invitation – or whatever it was – had no doubt brought it home rather too forcibly to Lester that the circles he moved in would not welcome a ginger-haired ex-copper with a tendency to sound like an extra from Only Fools and Horses in their midst. Sir James Lester would do far better by himself if he took up with a nice 30-something who worked in an art gallery.
“Sure thing,” he said lightly. “Don’t work too late.”
But Lester’s attention was already focussed on the papers on his desk and Danny doubted his words had even been heard.
* * * * *
The headache pounding behind his temples hadn’t quite escalated into a migraine but Lester had to admit it wasn’t for lack of goading on his part. He’d worked on finance reports until well after 11pm and had half-considered spending the night in one of the bunkrooms but, if truth be told, he just wanted to snatch a few hours in his own bed, spooned up behind Danny, doing his best to forget the pressures of the day.
He pulled the car into the cobbled mews behind his tall townhouse and pressed the button on his key fob to activate the garage doors. As the automatic light came on and the doors opened outwards, the first thing Lester noticed was the lack of Danny’s motorbike in its accustomed corner.
It looked unpleasantly like Danny had decided – reasonably enough – to go back to his own flat for the night, probably sick of waiting up for him. The house seemed strangely empty without him, and Lester quickly realised that no one had actually been there since they’d both left that morning, so it looked like Danny had just gone straight home. Lester had been intending to make himself a sandwich from some left-over chicken in the fridge, but the unaccustomed emptiness that had greeted him like an old and distinctly unwelcome friend had done a very good job of killing his appetite and all he ended up doing was swallowing a couple of painkillers and going straight to bed, conscious of the fact that he would probably regret it in the morning.
The bed was cold. The book Danny had been reading the previous night was still open on the bedside table, spine carelessly bent in a way that had led to much debate about the proper way to treat books. Danny always contended they were simply inanimate objects, whereas Lester insisted on them being treated with what he considered proper respect.
Lester shed his clothes carelessly for once, too tired to bother hanging his suit up properly, and simply burrowed under the duvet, flicking off the light and doing his best to ignore the headache that had take up residence in his skull. Despite been bone-weary, sleep steadfastly refused to grant him any relief. Figures from innumerable spreadsheets danced in front of his eyes, competing for space in his brain with the latest demands from Whitehall for what they called further efficiencies, Government-speak for cuts.
By 3am, Lester felt like shit and was no nearer to getting any rest. If Danny had been there he would no doubt have found a way to bring Lester’s demons to bay, but he wasn’t, and Lester knew perfectly well that he only had himself to blame for that. He’d already replayed their last conversation in his mind and reached the inescapable conclusion that he’d been an idiot. By telling Danny that he’d see him in the morning, Lester had sent the wrong message entirely. He’d meant that he’d see Danny when they woke up together in bed. The words had been meant to signify, ‘Don’t wait up, darling, I’m going to be ridiculously late’, but had come out suggesting something entirely different, but Lester had been too bloody preoccupied with his conversation with the sodding Home Secretary to have chosen his words properly or wised up to what he’d done until it was too late. And now he was tossing and turning, unable to sleep and wanting nothing more than to pick up the phone and hear Danny’s voice telling him he’d been a wanker.
At 5.47am, Lester gave up the struggle for sleep and got up. The headache had been reduced to a dull throb somewhere at the back of his skull, but before he could take any more tablets, Lester knew he would have to eat something, so he may as well just get up, grab some toast and coffee and make his way back to the ARC before the traffic started to build up. A shower made him feel slightly more human and a thick slab of toast and butter, washed down with some fresh coffee, improved matters further. By 6.50, Lester was back at his desk, after earning himself some surprised looks from the guards on the main gates and the bored duty technician sitting in front of the ADD and reading a magazine that looked like it had come off a top shelf somewhere. The man quickly slipped it under the desk and gave Lester an overly-bright smile.
Lester had every intention of apologising to Danny as soon as his lover arrived at work. If he’d learnt anything from more years than he cared to remember of a deeply unsatisfactory marriage, he’d learnt that problems were better brought out into the open. He knew he should have told Danny what was bothering as soon as he’d opened that bloody envelope, but he hadn’t known how to broach the matter, not wanting to risk a brush off, and so he’d fallen back on the habits of a lifetime and had retreated into his work, wrapping it around him like Kevlar.
He really did have every good intention. But he was also very well-acquainted with that particular road to hell…
* * * * *
“I don’t think that went too badly, all things considered,” Danny said brightly.
“What part of the triceratops in St Paul’s Cathedral did you fail to notice, Danny?” Becker demanded.
“Lighten up, soldier boy, no one got hurt.” Danny was strongly tempted to ruffle Becker’s hair, but didn’t think he was likely to escape that particular gesture unscathed.
“Maybe there is something in this miracle lark after all,” Connor said quickly, cutting across Becker’s inevitable response. “I thought that vicar bloke was quite nice about it in the circumstances.”
You would have had to be even more insensitive than Danny not to have noticed Lester wince before declaring, “That vicar bloke – as you call him, Temple – was the Dean of St Pauls. Jenny is currently attempting to convince him not to press charges against the students responsible for today’s… prank.”
“That means you, sunshine,” Danny commented, ruffling Connor’s hair instead.
With the air of a long-suffering headmaster, Lester waved them all out of his office telling them he wanted their reports on his desk before any of them even considered going to the pub. Danny grinned as he headed off to his office. It was Friday afternoon and he fully intended to drag Lester out with them to their local hostelry, aka The Black Swan, to break the ice that seemed to have grown up between them over the last couple of weeks.
At 5pm, with the ARC’s staff already steaming for the main doors like a herd of migrating wildebeest, Danny emailed his report to Lester and prepared to close down his computer. Out of habit, he hit Send/Receive one final time and was surprised to find an out of office reply from Lester appear on his screen. With mounting incredulity, Danny checked his watch. 5.02pm. Lester never left his office that early, not even on a Friday. Danny grabbed his motorbike jacket and made for the door. Lester must have put the out of office on in case someone from the Home Office decided to hound him over their latest demands for costs savings. That line of reasoning took an abrupt dive off a cliff when Danny saw that Lester’s office was already in darkness.
Lorraine Wickes, Lester’s ever-efficient secretary, looked up when Danny appeared in the doorway and smiled at him, but Danny caught a quickly-concealed flash of surprise in her eyes.
“Not like the old bugger to leave on time,” he commented.
The surprise slid seamlessly into unease and Danny realised he’d just sent a very clear message to Lorraine that he and Lester hadn’t actually seen anything of each other outside work for quite some while. Lester had obviously left on time to go somewhere that Lorraine had clearly expected Danny to know about, and he’d just made it abundantly plain that he didn’t have a bloody clue what was going on.
“He only left a few moments ago,” Lorraine said quietly. “I saw him heading in the direction of the loo first, so you’ll probably catch him in the garage if you’re quick.”
Danny opened his mouth to say that he had no intention of chasing after Lester, what the man did in his own time was his business, but the look that he got from Lorraine made him bite back the words. He’d actually spent a fucking miserable couple of weeks trying to work out what the hell had gone wrong between him and Lester and frankly, he was bloody fed up with feeling like a love-sick teenager. If it was over, then it was bloody well over. But he wanted to hear it from the horse’s mouth.
On impulse, Danny turned on his heel and headed down the ramp, his long legs carrying him quickly into the indoor garage. Lester was just closing the boot of his car. The sound of Danny’s footsteps made him look up. He smiled almost regretfully and Danny was struck by how exhausted he looked, but in spite of that, the man still looked as immaculate as ever in his Savile Row suit, handmade Italian shoes, Hilditch and Key shirt and flamboyant silk tie. The tie that Danny had bought him for Christmas…
Whatever Danny had been intending to say died an abrupt death and he ended up running a hand through his hair, conscious of the fact that he was still grubby from their mad caper in the cathedral that morning, his teeshirt ripped and probably smelly, wearing jeans that had seen better days and a pair of scruffy trainers. He wasn’t a good catch by any definition, so it was hardly surprising Lester had decided to throw him back.
“Got a date somewhere, guv?” he said, falling back on the chirpy Cockney sparrow act that he had got used to using as a shield.
“The highlight of London’s social calendar,” Lester said heavily. “Lady Alice Wetherby’s soirée. An exquisite form of torture designed specifically for people who don’t eat their greens and refuse to give their staff time off to watch Royal Weddings.”
In spite of himself, Danny grinned. “You like greens, and the whole bloody lot of us were on high alert during the Royal Wedding, so you can’t be blamed for that.” He took a deep breath and said, as carelessly as he could, “Have a nice evening, James.”
Lester’s eyebrows shot up. “Quinn, I would rather pull my own teeth out with rusty pliers and stick slivers of bamboo under my fingernails as an encore. I met my bloody wife at one of those damned parties and the wretched woman will no doubt be there tonight as well, so I think my chances of having a nice evening are about as high as Captain Becker’s chances of winning the Nobel Peace Prize.”
With that, Lester turned away, yanking open the car door with unaccustomed force.
Caught wholly unawares by the vehemence of Lester’s speech, Danny forgot that he’d resolved just to walk away from this relationship the way he’d done with all the others. He closed the distance between them in two long strides and said quietly, but forcefully, “I’m sorry that I’m not the sort of bloke that you can take to a do like that, James, but do us all a favour and find yourself a nice girlfriend instead, someone that can make you happy. Someone that you can be seen in public with.” The words came out with more bitterness than Danny had expected and a sudden flush of embarrassment rose up his cheeks. Jesus Christ, now he really was acting like a complete prat.
He turned away sharply, only to find his arm caught in a surprisingly firm grip.
“Danny, what the fuck are you talking about?”
Embarrassment gave way to a flicker of anger. “It all went wrong the night that bloody invitation arrived, didn’t it, guv? That rather brought it home that I’m not exactly the sort you can take to a posh do…”
Lester’s eyes widened and Danny saw a flash of something that looked dangerously close to amusement mixed with… relief? Danny had just made a bloody idiot of himself, he knew he had, and his best course of action now was just to laugh the whole fucking thing off, join the others in the pub and get rat-arsed.
It wasn’t hard to twist out of Lester’s grip… but a moment later he was reminded rather forcibly that Lester had attended all manner of personal protection courses over a long and somewhat unusual career in the upper echelons of government as he found himself rather expertly flipped around and backed up against the side of Lester’s car.
“What do you take me for, Quinn?” The words were quietly spoken, but held an edge that would have made even the most reckless member of the Special Forces team think twice about challenging.
Danny sighed. “Someone who has quite sensibly decided that slumming it isn’t exactly a good career move.”
“And you’ve based that earth-shatteringly incorrect deduction on precisely what evidence, ex-Detective Constable Quinn?”
“On the fact that whatever we had went down the pan the morning that bloody invitation arrived.”
Danny was starting to sound peevish now and he knew it. He was already cursing the fact that he hadn’t just been able to leave well alone. Oh no, in typical Quinn fashion he’d had to start pushing until Lester had pushed back. And now he just wanted to put the whole thing back in a box, slam the lid shut and walk away, but from the look in Lester’s grey-green eyes, that wasn’t going to be an option, was it?
Lester drew in a long slow breath, held it for a moment and then exhaled equally slowly. “Danny, if we’re going to have our first lover’s tiff, do you think we could possibly have it somewhere more private than here? I know it’s a Friday, but the staff haven’t quite finished their lemming-like rush out of the doors, and Mrs Cooper has already spent the last few minutes pretending to look for her car keys. I’d hate to be responsible for providing a viable alternative to the horrors of karaoke.”
A quick glance over Lester’s shoulder revealed Marilyn Cooper, one of the telephonists, standing in front of her Peugeot 406, ostentatiously lining up the contents of her handbag on the roof, no doubt in the hope of being able to relate the entire conversation verbatim in the staff room on Monday morning.
A moment later the phase ‘our first lover’s tiff’ elbowed itself rudely to the forefront of Danny’s mind and proceeded to stamp all over his righteous anger. Danny might not have had the benefit of a university education, but he knew that the word ‘first’ rather implied that a ‘second’ lover’s tiff might be on the cards at some point, which also implied that whatever he and Lester had between them might not actually be over. Those four little words lined up in his brain, took a bow, and danced away, leaving him feeling uncomfortably like someone who had just managed to make himself took a total plonker.
“If the wind changes, your face will stick like that, Quinn,” Lester remarked. “Now get in, and we’ll talk about this at home. And after that, we will both do penance for our stupidity by attending that fucking soirée.”
* * * * *
As he put the car into reverse and backed out of the parking space, Lester was quite proud of the fact that he’d managed to put the key in the ignition without his hand shaking.
He even managed a regal wave in the direction of Marilyn Cooper, ignoring Danny’s mutter of, “Nosy old cow.”
The rest of the drive was accomplished in silence. Lester had more respect for his car than to even consider having a row whilst negotiating London traffic on a Friday evening. He also needed time to think. Casting his mind back over the past couple of weeks, it was all to easy to see how Danny had reached the conclusion that Lester had decided to finish with him without having the grace to actually mention the fact. Lester’s anger at being taken for a stuck-up arsehole was tempered by the knowledge that he actually spent quite a lot of his time deliberately acting like one, so he could hardly blame Danny for putting two and two together and making ten. Or maybe one hundred and ten, in this particular case, but that still wasn’t entirely the point, and he was damned if he was going to go down the route of deflecting his anger at himself onto Danny. He’d made that sort of mistake often enough in the past.
They maintained the same silence up the steps to the back door and into the house. By the time they reached the kitchen, Lester was fully expecting Danny’s anger to have reached boiling point again, so it was with a degree of surprise that he found himself being pulled into a bruising kiss instead.
When Danny had finished stealing his breath away, Lester pulled back slightly and looked up at him, his face deliberately devoid of its habitual mockery. “I’m sorry, Danny. I really am a stupidly insensitive fucker, aren’t I?”
One of Danny’s trademark lop-sided grins quirked his lips. “Yes, you probably are, and I’m a complete twat with a chip on his shoulder the size of a Giant Sequoia. Shall we call it quits and cut straight to the spectacular make-up sex?”
Lester cast a regretful look at the clock on the wall. “Not if we’re going to get to Alice Wetherby’s by eight o’clock.”
“You’re serious about this, aren’t you, James?”
It was Lester’s turn to grin. “Deadly serious, Danny boy. You are going to be introduced to the cream of London society as my significant other… you’re even going to get to meet my ex-wife. And after that, it’ll be entirely up to you to decide what happens next. But if I have any say in the matter, you’ll come home with me, unceremoniously divest me of my clothing and fuck my brains out. How does that sound?”
Danny pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to his lips. “Bloody brilliant. Get yourself into your glad rags while I call a taxi. I presume the address is on the invite? We’ll need to swing past my flat on the way so I can get changed, so get your skates on, sweetheart.”
A flurry of activity worthy of the ARC’s rapid response teams at their best saw Lester showered and changed into evening dress in less than ten minutes, a time that Danny managed to beat by one minute 53 seconds precisely, and by dint of their taxi driver’s knowledge of some highly obscure and possibly even illegal central London short cuts, they arrived outside Lady Alice Wetherby’s imposing Georgian mansion in Belgravia at exactly eight o’clock. Fashionable lateness cut no ice in the Wetherby household.
Lester allowed himself a moment to savour the sight of Danny Quinn, resplendent in a white dinner jacket, black waistcoat and black bowtie. His lover’s trousers were perfectly creased and his shoes shone with polish. Danny ran a hand self-consciously over his carefully-slicked hair and gave Lester a slight smile.
“Well, do I pass muster?”
Lester smiled and, heedless of an audience that consisted of Lady Wetherby’s uniformed doorman, numerous guests and a woman walking an enormous pink poodle, he pulled Danny’s head down and gave him a light kiss on the mouth accompanied by just the barest hint of tongue. “You look bloody stunning.”
“You don’t look too bad yourself, guv,” Danny said, his eyes sparkling with barely-suppressed mischief.
Moments later, with a glass of vintage champagne in hand, Lester weaved his way expertly through the crowd in search of their hostess. Lady Alice was a beautiful woman in her early 80s, wearing an elegant plum-coloured silk evening dress with a matching pashmina shawl draped loosely around her shoulders. Lester had known her for 15 years and he always swore she didn’t look a day older than when he’d first met her. His intense dislike of her annual soirée owed more to the problems that had blighted the last few years of his marriage than it did to anything else, and as he kissed her lightly-powdered cheeks, Lester felt a pang of guilt over his ungracious words in the car park.
“Alice, it’s lovely to see you. May I introduce my partner, Danny Quinn?”
Alice Wetherby’s smile was both warm and genuine. “James, I can’t tell you how pleased I am for you.” Her sharp blue eyes gave Danny the once-over then she extended her hand, the twinkle in her eyes easily matching the one in his. “Meet me in the conservatory in an hour’s time and I’ll tell you all James’s deepest, darkest secrets, young man.”
“Does that mean I’ll get the ‘if you hurt him you’ll answer to me’ talk as well?” Danny asked with a wide smile as he gave a slight bow over her hand that contrived to be both elegant and charming.
“It most certainly does. I can see that we’re going to deal very well together,” their hostess declared before lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “James needed someone to bring him out of himself.”
Five minutes later, hidden from view behind an enormous potted palm, Danny demanded, “Well, did I pass the test?”
Lester laughed. “You do realise that she was serious about meeting you in the conservatory, don’t you? And yes, you passed the test. She likes you. Now, steel yourself. My ex-wife has just arrived and she appears to have the Honourable David Gleeson in tow. He’s totally charming, rich as Croesus and doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together, which is no doubt why Caroline likes him so much. By the way, she’s revered to her own name since the divorce, so it’s Barton, not Lester.”
* * * * *
As the evening wore on, Danny veered wildly between enjoying himself and wanting to find a quiet corner where he could pound his head repeatedly against the elegant wallpaper. The grilling Alice Wetherby had subjected him to in the conservatory – carried out with ruthless upper-class charm – had been one of the high points of the evening, but without a shadow of a doubt, the five minutes he’d spent making awkward small-talk with Lester’s ex-wife had been one of the low points. Another low point had been ten minutes of equally excruciating conversation with his former Chief Constable.
On the plus side, Alice Wetherby’s staff were attentive when it came to regularly dispensing more of the vintage champagne and the food was excellent. A positive army of waiters constantly carried around trays of some of the most delicious snacks Danny had ever tasted, and a large and well-stocked buffet provided more substantial fare.
He discovered quite quickly that it was not de rigueur for couples to remain together for too long during the course of the evening and in consequence he found himself talking to a constant procession of different people from theatre directors to government ministers, via actors, charity workers and numerous others he couldn’t even put a name to. He soon discovered that Lester was well-known to a large number of people, but even more surprising was the fact that most of them didn’t seem to bat an eyelid when they discovered the exact nature of Danny’s relationship with him, although he did over-hear the words ‘mid-life crisis’ rapidly followed by the equally-damning ‘bit of rough’ dripping from Caroline Barton’s fangs, punctuated by ripples of laughter from around her from some of the more obviously vacuous guests, although he was also conscious of the fact that the gibe made her boyfriend look distinctly uncomfortable, which was a point in his favour in Danny’s book.
An arm slid around his waist and Lester gave him a light hug. “Ignore her. She’s actually not as much of a bitch as she likes to make out, but I bring out the worst in her now, which is a shame, as I’d prefer to keep things civil for the sake of the kids.”
Danny nodded. He knew that the separation from his children had been difficult for Lester. He’d done his best to be a good father, despite the constant pressure of a series of jobs that he could never talk about at home, but the anomaly project had just been the final straw on an already over-burdened camel’s back and he’d missed one birthday party too many. Divorce papers hadn’t been far behind.
“Her boyfriend seems nice enough,” Danny said, after a rapid search for something suitably non-committal by way of reply.
“He hasn’t got a harmful bone in his body,” Lester said with a faintly rueful smile. “His family came over with William the Conqueror and successive generations have been charming their way through life ever since. The last brain cell died out at about the time of William and Mary, but as they own almost as much of the country as the Duke of Westminster, it obviously wasn’t any hindrance. The kids adore him,” he added quietly.
Danny slipped his hand into Lester’s and gave a reassuring squeeze. “Better than adoring a total bastard. At least he isn’t going to be dripping poison into their ears.” Danny tugged at Lester’s fingers and muttered, “I need a slash. Be a nice, helpful boyfriend and show me where the loo is. I went looking five minutes ago and I swear I ran into the Lost Tribe of Israel and Elvis Presley but I still didn’t find the bogs. This place is a bloody rabbit warren.” He was lying through his teeth, but he hoped Lester was too distracted to notice.
They made their way through the crowd thronging the ground floor to a wood-panelled door in a wide corridor. A discreet green dial signified that the room was unoccupied and before Lester had time to even let out a squawk of protest, Danny had opened the door, dragged him inside and locked it behind them.
They were in an immaculate anteroom tastefully decorated in ivory and pale green, with a gleaming white marble washbasin set on a black marble counter. A pile of fresh handtowels were folded neatly next to a large bowl of lavender flowers. An inner door led to what Danny presumed would be an equally impressive loo.
“Bloody ‘ell, you could move the party in here and still ‘ave room to spare,” Danny commented as he leaned back against the thick wooden door, blocking Lester’s escape route.
“If I’m not mistaken, that exactly what you have just done,” Lester replied acerbically, but the appraising look in his eyes as they travelled up and down Danny’s body was nowhere near as cool as his actual words. “You do realise that neither of our reputations are going to survive a tryst in a toilet, don’t you, Quinn?”
“Well, it’s hardly Hampstead Heath, guv,” Danny pointed out, slipping back into his self-appointed role as court jester. “Anyway, I haven’t got a reputation to lose, the Chief Constable made that perfectly plain.”
“The Chief Constable picks up rent boys in Soho and has done for years.”
Danny’s eyes widened. “You have got good sources. Apparently his only saving grace is that he pays well and doesn’t slap anyone around.”
“So I’ve been told,” Lester said, leaning back against the marble slab behind him. “But you didn’t drag me in here to talk about your ex-boss’s sexual proclivities, did you, Danny?”
“I wanted a slash, I told you.”
“Liar. I saw you coming out of here just before you snagged that last glass of champagne about ten minutes ago.”
Danny dropped a hand to his groin and palmed a rapidly-burgeoning erection. The sight of James Lester dressed to the nines had been dangerously close to giving him a hard-on since they’d left the flat two hours ago and the knowledge that his lover had been wholly complicit in Danny’s not very subtle subterfuge to get them alone together had just sent a jolt of adrenalin through his system.
Lester smiled and shifted position to spread his legs slightly as he opened the button on his dinner jacket and let it fall open to reveal his own erection tenting his trousers below the shiny black cummerbund around his waist. Danny pushed himself away from the door and went quickly to his knees at Lester’s feet, easing his lover’s zip down and freeing his hard cock from a pair of purple silk boxers.
“Nice,” Danny murmured appreciatively.
“My cock or my underwear?” Lester enquired.
Danny licked lightly over the swollen head. “Both, if you must know.”
Lester ran his hand through Danny’s hair, making it stand back up in its accustomed spikes. “Less chit-chat, dear boy, Alice’s remarkably fine champagne awaits us, and no doubt an orderly queue is already starting to form outside…”
“I thought you wanted me to fuck your brains out…”
“I do,” Lester conceded. “This is simply a small appetizer before the main course. But I hope that will take place back in the comfort of the bedroom. I fear my knees are no longer up to prolonged contact with hard surfaces.”
Danny sat back on his heels and looked up at Lester, not bothering to hide his amusement. “You’re not quite as repressed as you like to make out, are you, darling?”
“I can assure you that this is my very first sexual encounter in such circumstances, so I do hope you’re going to make it memorable.”
“It’ll be bloody memorable if I didn’t manage to lock that door properly,” Danny murmured, as he took Lester’s cock in hand and started to stroke it firmly from root to tip. “You’ll just have to make sure you come quietly.” As he swiped his tongue over Lester’s slit, Danny reflected on the fact that although Lester was now more open and demonstrative in bed that he had been, he was actually anything but a noisy lover, something that Danny was suddenly determined to change before the night was out. But even he had to acknowledge that the toilet in someone else’s mansion probably wasn’t the ideal spot to encourage Lester to me more vocal.
Danny wrapped his lips around Lester’s hard cock and slid down the shaft sucking and using his tongue in ways that he knew always drove his lover wild. Despite the time they’d been together, the novelty of blowjobs had nowhere near worn off and Danny was always more than happy to oblige. Lester’s cock slid over the roof of his mouth and although there was no way Danny would be able to deep-throat in this position his height did give him some advantages.
Danny pulled back far enough for a moment to murmur, “Pass me one of those towels, James. I don’t want a wet patch on these trousers and I don’t reckon you want my come all over yours, do you?”
“Romantic as ever, Quinn,” Lester chucked, reaching out and dropping one of the small, scented towels into Danny’s hand.
Danny’s own dick was already hard and leaking, and he used the moisture to slick the movements of his hand. This wasn’t going to take long for either of them. Lester ran his hands through Danny’s hair and was clearly doing his best – not entirely successfully – to stifle a moan. Danny grinned around his mouthful and redoubled his efforts. A moment later, thick salty fluid coated his tongue. Two quick strokes from Danny’s hand were enough to bring him off as he sucked the last drops from Lester’s cock, savouring the taste, something he knew Lester’s last boyfriend and his ex-wife had both disliked intensely. It had taken Danny quite some while to prevent Lester instinctively pulling back before his climax for that reason.
Danny enjoyed the fact that Lester now trusted him enough to come in his mouth without the slight but noticeable uncertainty that had originally been present during oral sex. He stood up, wiped his hands on the towel he’d used to prevent his own come staining Lester’s immaculate suit and tossed it accurately into the nearby wicker basket. He tucked himself away and watched in amusement as Lester fumbled with his own clothing, falling somewhat short of his usual neat efficiency. Danny leaned in and captured Lester’s lips in an open-mouthed kiss during which Lester shamelessly chased his own taste around Danny’s mouth with an agile tongue. Oh yes, Lester was definitely becoming less inhibited.
While his lover smoothed his hair back into place and made sure that he was fit to be seen in public, Danny quickly washed his hands and tamed his own hair. Once he was certain that no evidence of their activities had been left behind, he put a conspiratorial finger to his lips and made his way over to the door, listening for any footsteps in the corridor outside before opening the door, stepping out and finding himself face to face with the Honourable David Gleeson, his lover’s ex-wife’s current boyfriend, a description that was even more of a mouthful than the one he’d just had.
Danny gave a quick shake of his head and said quietly, “I can’t get the flush to work. You wouldn’t do me a favour and discreetly tip someone the wink while I stand guard, would you?”
As soon as the man had obligingly gone off in search of a member of staff, Danny signalled that the coast was clear and Lester slipped out into the empty corridor looking wholly unlike a man who’d just had his brains sucked out through his dick.
A few minutes later, glasses of champagne in hand, they were both back in circulation, although the look of good-natured amusement on David Gleeson’s handsome face did leave Danny wondering whether the man really was quite as clueless as Lester had made out.
* * * * *
“That was nowhere near as bad as I’d been expecting,” Danny said truthfully, as they settled into the back of the taxi just after midnight.
Lester rested his hand on his lover’s thigh. “Thank you for coming with me.”
Danny’s hand covered his and gave a slight squeeze. “You only had to ask, James.”
“I know, and I’m a bloody idiot,” Lester admitted. “But I’d come to associate Alice’s parties with the war-zone my marriage had become and I hadn’t realised quite how much baggage I’d been dragging around with me. I couldn’t imagine for a second that you’d want to get involved with that sort of scene and unfortunately, it rather goes with the territory so far as I’m concerned.” He stroked Danny’s fingers. “I’m not exactly much of a catch, Danny.”
Danny laughed. “You and me both, matey, so we’ll call it quits, shall we?” He leaned over and nipped Lester’s ear. “So, what happens next?”
“I gave you the choice, remember?” Lester said, doing his best to ignore the uncomfortable flutter in his stomach.
Danny appeared quite happy sucking his earlobe but eventually he murmured, “I do believe my cock is on a promise so far as your arse is concerned.”
Lester smiled contentedly. That was a promise he’d be very happy to honour.
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Date: 2011-12-15 03:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-15 07:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-15 04:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-15 07:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-15 05:12 pm (UTC)Thank you! :D
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Date: 2011-12-15 07:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-15 05:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-15 07:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-15 07:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-15 09:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-15 08:02 pm (UTC)Lovely! And very hot toilet sex as well!!
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Date: 2011-12-15 09:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-15 09:34 pm (UTC)Thank you so much for writing this <3
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Date: 2011-12-15 09:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-16 06:56 pm (UTC)Do you plan to write something more for Lester/Danny?
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Date: 2011-12-16 07:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-16 07:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-15 10:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-16 09:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-15 10:58 pm (UTC)Wonderful story! I'm so glad they finally sorted themselves out :D Yay angsty almost!breakup *veg*
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Date: 2011-12-16 09:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-16 01:10 am (UTC)And I do believe this is fabulous on a whole heap of levels. Great great story!
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Date: 2011-12-16 09:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-16 09:20 pm (UTC)And Gleeson definitely knew what they were up to!
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Date: 2011-12-16 10:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-18 07:53 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2011-12-22 10:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-23 07:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-24 02:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-24 10:30 am (UTC)