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fredbassettTitle : All Work and No Play
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 12
Characters : Nick/Stephen
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : Nick is hosting a party and Stephen is doing all the work.
A/N : Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
adafrog’s birthday. I hope you have a lovely day! With thanks to lukadreaming for the beta.
Stephen carried another armful of camping chairs out into the garden, spread them around on the newly-cut grass and then ran through his mental checklist.
Barbeque lit.
Potatoes wrapped in foil ready for baking.
Ditto corn on the cob.
Chicken cooking in the oven.
Sausages and chops on trays in the fridge.
Cold meat already set out on more trays.
Salads all made and covered with cling film.
White wine in the cooler box.
Beer in ice in a dustbin.
Red wine on a table with a couple of corkscrews.
Soft drinks and bottled water set out.
Cakes and puddings in the spare fridge in the utility room.
Paper plates, napkins and cutlery all on a small table.
Enough sauces and chutneys to sink a battleship.
He knew he was bound to have forgotten something, but as long as there was enough food and drink no one would mind.
Now all he needed was to drag Nick away from the current paper he was writing and make sure the professor to be ready to host his annual staff and students’ party.
Stephen turned around and found Nick standing in the doorway, his hair standing up in surprised spikes.
“Think of the devil and he cometh,” Stephen said with a smile. Nick looked thoroughly dishevelled, but that wouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone. Sartorial elegance certainly wasn’t the reason students flocked to his lectures. “Can you think of anything I’ve forgotten?”
Nick cast his eyes over the vast spread of food and drink and looked embarrassed. “Stephen, I’m a bloody disgrace, aren’t I? I promised to help you three hours ago.”
Stephen smiled and kissed Nick lightly on the lips. “You had a paper to write.”
Nick looped his arms around Stephen’s waist and pulled him into a hug. “I don’t deserve you.”
Stephen relaxed into his lover’s embrace. People would be arriving soon and this would almost certainly be the last cuddle he got before they ejected the final student at midnight, or alternatively left them on the sofa covered with a blanket. Nick wasn’t a demonstrative man in public and in front of students and colleagues he had a tendency to be positively glacial when it came to shows of affection. Theirs certainly wasn’t the only relationship within the department, but they were without a shadow of a doubt still in the closet compared to anyone else. He’d wondered if that would change when the dean amazed everyone by marrying his secretary, but it hadn’t ended up making any difference. Then one of the senior lecturers had come out and would no doubt be bringing his boyfriend along tonight, but that hadn’t persuaded Nick to go public either.
The fact that their relationship had been an open secret in the faculty for years hadn’t made any difference. To an extent, Stephen blamed Nick’s strict Presbyterian upbringing. It had left him with a taste for whisky, a hatred of the church and enough hang-ups to keep a small army of psychologists happy for a lifetime.
But despite all that, Stephen loved Nick and he knew that Nick loved him, even though the actual words had never passed his lips.
The chime of the doorbell prevented the need for any reply. He simply gave Nick another quick peck on the lips and a light swat on the backside. “You answer the door, I’ll put the potatoes in the oven.”
By 7pm, the part was in full swing. The third years and postgrads knew the drill and were simply helping themselves to food and drink. The first years were still in a tight huddle but that was normal for this stage of the term. They’d soon loosen up. The dean had given the usual vote of thanks to Nick for his hospitality and his wife had squeezed Stephen’s hand and told him she knew perfectly well who’d done all the hard work.
James Fraser had indeed come with his boyfriend, an architect who’d worked on the new arts library and the two of them clearly had none of Nick’s qualms about public displays of affection. Stephen did his best to suppress the pangs of envy he felt over the casual way James would loop his arm around Gavin’s waist for a quick squeeze, or the way they would share a glass of beer and a plate of food, passing them between each other with an easy intimacy that Stephen had never experienced.
A couple of hours later, some of the students – and even a few of the staff – had reached the stage of snogging in corners and he’d even seen the dean and his wife having a cuddle at the top of the stairs.
Stephen kept himself busy, filling glasses, opening bottles and handing round plates of surplus food while Nick chatted to colleagues and to his students, happy and relaxed. One of the postgrads had taken over from Stephen behind the barbeque and was producing a seemingly endless supply of sausages in finger rolls. Stephen took one, smeared it with mustard, ladled on a pile of onions and took it over to Nick, who had a habit of forgetting to eat at all when he was engrossed in conversation.
Nick smiled at him and for the space of a hopeful heartbeat, Stephen though he might be about to be on the receiving end of a kiss, but the moment passed, and Nick went back to his conversation with Angela Lawson, one of their lab assistants, about the preparation of some specimens they’d brought back from South Dakota the previous summer.
Stephen fought hard to keep the hurt out of his eyes and dredged up a smile in return. A sausage in a bun wasn’t much consolation, but it was probably as much as he was going to get, so he might as well enjoy it.
The garden was lit by a series of solar-powered lamps Stephen had picked up at a car boot sale and stuck around the edges of the riotously overcrowded flowerbeds. And he’d even gone so far as to drape a string of multi-coloured Christmas tree lights over the bay tree. It wasn’t exactly House & Garden standard, but it did look pretty and Stephen was pleased with the effect. He glanced around to see if any glasses or plates needed tidying away and was surprised to see Nick making his way over to him, a somewhat rueful smile on his face.
“I’m an old fool, aren’t I?” Nick said quietly.
Stephen rolled his eyes in mock horror. “What have you done now, Cutter? Not spilled red wine down Mary Morrison’s best party dress?”
In answer, Nick slipped his arms around Stephen’s waist and pulled him close. Stephen froze, knowing that he probably looked like a deer caught in the headlights, but not being able to stop his reaction.
“I owe you an apology.”
“Cutter?” Stephen kept his voice low, expecting Nick to come to his senses and pull away at any minute before anyone saw what was happening. “What’s brought this on?”
“Just the realisation that I’m a complete old idiot who’s too stuck in his ways for his own good.”
“Less of the old,” Stephen said automatically, doing his best to resist the urge to simply snog Nick senseless.
“You do all this for me and more and I don’t even acknowledge what you mean to me in public. I’ve been watching you tonight, running yourself ragged making sure everyone has a good time, doing everything for me when I never do a bloody thing in return.”
Nick reached up and pulled Stephen down into a kiss. Nick’s lips were tentative but insistent and Stephen could feel the familiar rasp of stubble against his chin in a setting that was wholly unfamiliar. He opened his mouth to admit Nick’s tongue as the kiss deepened. When they finally drew apart, Stephen knew perfectly well that everyone was looking at them but he didn’t care. He was in Nick’s arms in public for the first time and he was going to savour every minute of that experience.
He half-expected the third years to give them a round of applause, but instead, in the sudden silence that had fallen, he heard the dean’s voice say gruffly, “About bloody time. I thought I was going to have to send you a memo, Cutter.”
Nick kissed Stephen very softly on the lips and murmured, “I love you.”
And then the clapping really did start.
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 12
Characters : Nick/Stephen
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : Nick is hosting a party and Stephen is doing all the work.
A/N : Written for
adafrog’s birthday. I hope you have a lovely day! With thanks to lukadreaming for the beta.Stephen carried another armful of camping chairs out into the garden, spread them around on the newly-cut grass and then ran through his mental checklist.
Barbeque lit.
Potatoes wrapped in foil ready for baking.
Ditto corn on the cob.
Chicken cooking in the oven.
Sausages and chops on trays in the fridge.
Cold meat already set out on more trays.
Salads all made and covered with cling film.
White wine in the cooler box.
Beer in ice in a dustbin.
Red wine on a table with a couple of corkscrews.
Soft drinks and bottled water set out.
Cakes and puddings in the spare fridge in the utility room.
Paper plates, napkins and cutlery all on a small table.
Enough sauces and chutneys to sink a battleship.
He knew he was bound to have forgotten something, but as long as there was enough food and drink no one would mind.
Now all he needed was to drag Nick away from the current paper he was writing and make sure the professor to be ready to host his annual staff and students’ party.
Stephen turned around and found Nick standing in the doorway, his hair standing up in surprised spikes.
“Think of the devil and he cometh,” Stephen said with a smile. Nick looked thoroughly dishevelled, but that wouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone. Sartorial elegance certainly wasn’t the reason students flocked to his lectures. “Can you think of anything I’ve forgotten?”
Nick cast his eyes over the vast spread of food and drink and looked embarrassed. “Stephen, I’m a bloody disgrace, aren’t I? I promised to help you three hours ago.”
Stephen smiled and kissed Nick lightly on the lips. “You had a paper to write.”
Nick looped his arms around Stephen’s waist and pulled him into a hug. “I don’t deserve you.”
Stephen relaxed into his lover’s embrace. People would be arriving soon and this would almost certainly be the last cuddle he got before they ejected the final student at midnight, or alternatively left them on the sofa covered with a blanket. Nick wasn’t a demonstrative man in public and in front of students and colleagues he had a tendency to be positively glacial when it came to shows of affection. Theirs certainly wasn’t the only relationship within the department, but they were without a shadow of a doubt still in the closet compared to anyone else. He’d wondered if that would change when the dean amazed everyone by marrying his secretary, but it hadn’t ended up making any difference. Then one of the senior lecturers had come out and would no doubt be bringing his boyfriend along tonight, but that hadn’t persuaded Nick to go public either.
The fact that their relationship had been an open secret in the faculty for years hadn’t made any difference. To an extent, Stephen blamed Nick’s strict Presbyterian upbringing. It had left him with a taste for whisky, a hatred of the church and enough hang-ups to keep a small army of psychologists happy for a lifetime.
But despite all that, Stephen loved Nick and he knew that Nick loved him, even though the actual words had never passed his lips.
The chime of the doorbell prevented the need for any reply. He simply gave Nick another quick peck on the lips and a light swat on the backside. “You answer the door, I’ll put the potatoes in the oven.”
By 7pm, the part was in full swing. The third years and postgrads knew the drill and were simply helping themselves to food and drink. The first years were still in a tight huddle but that was normal for this stage of the term. They’d soon loosen up. The dean had given the usual vote of thanks to Nick for his hospitality and his wife had squeezed Stephen’s hand and told him she knew perfectly well who’d done all the hard work.
James Fraser had indeed come with his boyfriend, an architect who’d worked on the new arts library and the two of them clearly had none of Nick’s qualms about public displays of affection. Stephen did his best to suppress the pangs of envy he felt over the casual way James would loop his arm around Gavin’s waist for a quick squeeze, or the way they would share a glass of beer and a plate of food, passing them between each other with an easy intimacy that Stephen had never experienced.
A couple of hours later, some of the students – and even a few of the staff – had reached the stage of snogging in corners and he’d even seen the dean and his wife having a cuddle at the top of the stairs.
Stephen kept himself busy, filling glasses, opening bottles and handing round plates of surplus food while Nick chatted to colleagues and to his students, happy and relaxed. One of the postgrads had taken over from Stephen behind the barbeque and was producing a seemingly endless supply of sausages in finger rolls. Stephen took one, smeared it with mustard, ladled on a pile of onions and took it over to Nick, who had a habit of forgetting to eat at all when he was engrossed in conversation.
Nick smiled at him and for the space of a hopeful heartbeat, Stephen though he might be about to be on the receiving end of a kiss, but the moment passed, and Nick went back to his conversation with Angela Lawson, one of their lab assistants, about the preparation of some specimens they’d brought back from South Dakota the previous summer.
Stephen fought hard to keep the hurt out of his eyes and dredged up a smile in return. A sausage in a bun wasn’t much consolation, but it was probably as much as he was going to get, so he might as well enjoy it.
The garden was lit by a series of solar-powered lamps Stephen had picked up at a car boot sale and stuck around the edges of the riotously overcrowded flowerbeds. And he’d even gone so far as to drape a string of multi-coloured Christmas tree lights over the bay tree. It wasn’t exactly House & Garden standard, but it did look pretty and Stephen was pleased with the effect. He glanced around to see if any glasses or plates needed tidying away and was surprised to see Nick making his way over to him, a somewhat rueful smile on his face.
“I’m an old fool, aren’t I?” Nick said quietly.
Stephen rolled his eyes in mock horror. “What have you done now, Cutter? Not spilled red wine down Mary Morrison’s best party dress?”
In answer, Nick slipped his arms around Stephen’s waist and pulled him close. Stephen froze, knowing that he probably looked like a deer caught in the headlights, but not being able to stop his reaction.
“I owe you an apology.”
“Cutter?” Stephen kept his voice low, expecting Nick to come to his senses and pull away at any minute before anyone saw what was happening. “What’s brought this on?”
“Just the realisation that I’m a complete old idiot who’s too stuck in his ways for his own good.”
“Less of the old,” Stephen said automatically, doing his best to resist the urge to simply snog Nick senseless.
“You do all this for me and more and I don’t even acknowledge what you mean to me in public. I’ve been watching you tonight, running yourself ragged making sure everyone has a good time, doing everything for me when I never do a bloody thing in return.”
Nick reached up and pulled Stephen down into a kiss. Nick’s lips were tentative but insistent and Stephen could feel the familiar rasp of stubble against his chin in a setting that was wholly unfamiliar. He opened his mouth to admit Nick’s tongue as the kiss deepened. When they finally drew apart, Stephen knew perfectly well that everyone was looking at them but he didn’t care. He was in Nick’s arms in public for the first time and he was going to savour every minute of that experience.
He half-expected the third years to give them a round of applause, but instead, in the sudden silence that had fallen, he heard the dean’s voice say gruffly, “About bloody time. I thought I was going to have to send you a memo, Cutter.”
Nick kissed Stephen very softly on the lips and murmured, “I love you.”
And then the clapping really did start.