fredbassett | Fic, Brave New World, Nick/Connor, Slash, 15

Title : Brave New World
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : PG
Characters : Nick/Connor
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : General for Series 2
Summary : Nick finds himself in an unfamiliar world
A/N : OK, I finally wrote something other than Stephen/Ryan. So sue me.

Nick Cutter stared around him at the unfamiliar surroundings of the ARC. “Does this place run to showers?”

“Showers, restrooms, bedrooms, take your pick,” said Connor, waving an arm expansively.

Cutter glanced at an array of doors and wondered which one to pick. He was just too damned tired to deal with all this now. His team (could he even still call them that?), didn’t seem to know how to treat him. Stephen still eyed him warily. It’d take more than an adrenaline fuelled moment over the body of an unconscious raptor to re-establish trust. Or should that be establish trust?

Did he even know any of these people? Did that even matter any more?

To hell with it.

“Conner, can we just pretend that I’ve had a bang on the head and lost my memory?”

The student looked uneasy and made a bad job of covering it up. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”

“What I want more than anything, is hot water. Copious quantities of it.”

“Not normally short of that round here,” muttered Connor. “There are times when I’d settle for tepid. We seem to spend half our freakin’ lives in hot water. Look on the bright side, seems like only three people died today. Anything less than five we count as a good day.”

Without waiting for a reply, Connor set off purposefully down the corridor with Cutter trailing behind like a lost puppy.

The showers were large. The water was hot and there were plenty of towels. There was even a locker with his name on it. And something about that gave Cutter the creeps in a way that he couldn’t even begin to describe.

He stood under the water, letting it stream down his body, washing away dust and sweat and blood. But no matter how long he stood there, it wasn’t going to succeed in washing his mind clear of the memories.

He stepped out, dripping, and found Connor perched on a wooden bench, holding out a can of beer with one hand and a towel with the other.

“Take it, it’s warm.”

“The beer?”

Connor grimaced at the thought. “No, the towel. The beer’s cold.”

Cutter grinned and gratefully took both of the items his student was proffering.

The beer slid down his throat in a cool, delicious trail, straight onto an empty stomach.

“Clean clothes?”

“In your locker.”

And that was it.

The final straw.

He didn’t have a locker.

This place didn’t even fucking exist.

It was just some fucking awful dream. He was probably still back in the Permian or whenever. Dying? Dead?

A shudder ran through him so hard that his stomach clenched in reaction, forcing the beer back up his throat. He managed to get his head back inside the shower cubicle a fraction of a second before the contents of his stomach hit the opposite wall. And slid in a frothy mess down the previously immaculate while tiles.

He felt a cool hand on his naked back, rubbing round in small circles the way his mam had done when he’d had the heaves as a kid.

Then a pair of surprisingly strong arms held him until the spasms passed and he was able to stand upright again.

He felt himself guided back onto the bench and a warm towel was draped around his shoulders.

“Got something stronger than beer somewhere,” muttered a voice that contrived to be both familiar and unknown.

A moment later, a plastic mug was thrust into his hand and the smell of malt whisky rose up to greet him.

Nick started to laugh. The Home Office might have an astronomical budget when it came to interior décor, but whoever had equipped this place didn’t know shit when it came to scotch. He took a large mouthful, swilled it round, then spat.

It took three attempts to clear the taste of vomit out of his mouth.

He leant his head back against the wall, eyes closed. “Any chance of the rest of that beer now, Connor?”

This time the alcohol hit his stomach and stayed there.

Eventually, the can slid from his fingers to clatter onto the floor. He didn’t want to open his eyes. If he stayed like this, maybe he’d just wake up. That was what was supposed to happen in shower scenes, wasn’t it? Couldn’t he just walk out and pretend none of this had ever happened?

An arm slid round his shoulders and his head was pulled down gently to rest on a shoulder that the word comforting could have been coined for and for the first time in what seemed like a glacial epoch, Nick Cutter felt the tension start to drain out of his body.

And a welcome hand started to rub circles on the small of his back again.

For a fleeting moment, sensation drove memory away.

Warm breath ghosted over his forehead and light fingers ran through his wet hair. Nick shifted position into, not away from, the embrace, ignoring the very small part of his brain determined to point out that this was not what he should be doing, that this was his student.

Then his head was tilted backwards and a pair of firm, surprisingly possessive, lips claimed his and a tongue that didn’t seem to know the meaning of the word hesitant slid into his mouth and all he could do was let it happen.

A soft chuckle broke into the riot of his thoughts.

Nick opened his eyes to warmth and comfort and the hand that was still rubbing it’s way round his back in ever-decreasing circles started to feel like his only anchor to sanity.

“Do you know my mam?” he asked.

Connor’s eyes widened slightly. “No, but I did speak to her on the phone yesterday when you were out of the office.”

Ice slid down Cutter’s spine. “She died, twenty years ago, Connor.”

“She didn’t sound dead to me. She said to call her tomorrow if you get time.”

Then warm lips began to melt the cold.

And two hands started to rub their way down his back.

His brain gave up the unequal struggle and his mouth opened under Connor’s probing tongue.

O brave new world
That hath such people in't!

And he hadn’t taken English Literature at GCSE, he’d done all science subjects, so why the hell was he remembering an exam paper he’d never sat? And an essay that he’d never written?

Connor’s hands tightened on his shoulders and Nick bit back a scream.

“More whisky?”

“Not if it’s Glenfiddich. And if you value what’s left of my sanity, don’t tell me it’s my favorite brand.”

“Lagavulin,” grinned Connor. “Anyone who’s been on a field trip with you knows that, Professor.”

Nick’s arms tightened round the younger man. “Connor, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I could kiss you.”

Mischief danced in dark eyes. “It’s more private here than the corridor, that’s for sure.”

A hand slid lightly up his thigh and a Connor that was not the Connor he knew welcomed Professor Nick Cutter to a world that was not his own.

Current Mood: surprised
Current Location: France

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

telperion-15.livejournal.com

*squees*

That bit when he saw the locker really struck me when I watched the episode, and you've developed it really well. Actually seeing your name written on something that as far as your concerned has never existed must suddenly make everything hit home.

And I love how Connor is different and confident enough to kiss Cutter, but at heart he's still Connor.

Ooh, and the remembering an exam that he hadn't even sat - that gave me the shivers!

From:

Fic, Brave New World, Nick/Connor, Slash, 15

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