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fredbassettTitle : Escape to the Country
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 15
Characters : Stephen/Ryan
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : Ryan and Stephen take a much needed break at the cottage at Eye.
A/N : Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cordeliadelayne’s Denial Stocking. The painting is by artist John Ridgewell.
“It’s snowing!” Stephen announced, heaving a wicker basket full of logs into the cottage and quickly closing the door to keep out the cold air.
“Good job we’re not back at work for a week,” Ryan commented, giving the beef stew in the slow cooker a quick stir before putting the lid back on. “When it settles around here, the roads are a bloody nightmare.”
“Don’t they have snowploughs in deepest Suffolk?”
“Nope, the buggers over in Essex nicked ‘em all and won’t give ‘em back. Anyway, you’ve seen most of the roads in this neck of the woods. You’d be lucky to fit a Dinky toy up some of them, let alone a plough, and even on the wider roads, one mistake and you’d be in a ditch.”
“So if it pitches we’re stuck?” Stephen’s expression looked distinctly hopeful.
“Yep, more stuck than a stuck thing. We’ve got a fridge full of food and enough booze to float a battleship. Definitely our turn for some down time.”
Stephen wrapped his arms around Ryan’s waist and nuzzled the back of his neck. “Too bloody right it is. Stuck sounds positively idyllic. I’ll get the wood stacked, you do the drinks.”
The woodburning stove in the living room was the main source of heat in the small cottage that Ryan had inherited from his grandmother and they’d spent a couple of days in summer chopping logs to make sure the woodstore stayed full. What they were burning now had been cut and stacked two years ago. Ryan knew from past experience that Suffolk winters would be fiercely cold, especially in January, and as the forecast had given a high chance of snow, he’d done a big shop before picking Stephen up from the ARC that morning. The turkey that was defrosting in the larder would feed them for several days. They certainly weren’t going to run short of anything, even if they were cut off for a while.
Later, they ate beef stew and dumplings in front of the fire, sitting cross-legged on the thick rug. The cottage still had its original stone flag floor, but rugs everywhere helped keep the place warm and there were several heavy fleece throws on the back of the sofa to keep the chills at bay when needed.
The cottage at Eye had been Ryan’s place of refuge for several years and he always enjoyed the sense of peace that wrapped around him like a warm blanket whenever he walked through the door. Many of his grandmother’s things were still here, including the beautiful handstitched patchwork quilt that covered the battered but still comfortable sofa, the blue and white pottery on the oak dresser and the heavy, copper-bottomed pans that Ryan still used on the old-fashioned oil-fired range in the small kitchen. The pictures on the walls were delicate watercolours of butterflies, moths, bees and spiders by an artist called Mary Kane. Ryan remembered meeting her when he’d been in his teens. Her artwork, with its subtle colouring and fine brush strokes had always fascinated him and Stephen loved the paintings as much as he did.
The snow fell steadily all evening, and by the time they went to bed, the fields outside the cottage were blanketed in a thick white covering. Ryan had left the bedroom door open all day to take the chill off the room and he carefully banked up the stove with wood to keep it in overnight.
They shed their clothes quickly and dived under the quilt. Their Christmas present from Claudia and Nick had been a soft fleece duvet cover and matching pillowcases covered with cartoon penguins. They’d both instantly fallen in love with it and had bought another set for the cottage decorated with moose and Christmas trees.
They made love unhurriedly, spooned up against each other, skin pressed to skin, and afterwards, Ryan drifted into sleep with his head pillowed on Stephen’s shoulder.
****
Ryan woke up as he always did at 7am and after disentangling himself from a still-sleeping Stephen, he reached for a thick dressing gown and stuffed his feet into a pair of dilapidated slippers before going out to stir the woodburning stove into life and put the kettle on.
The inside of the kitchen windows had iced up overnight and outside, it had started snowing again. The tracks left by a deer that had wandered through the garden were quickly being covered up and from what Ryan could see, half a metre of snow had already fallen with more on the way. This was impressive, even by the standards of Suffolk in January.
Armed with two mugs of tea and a handful of chocolate biscuits, he went back to bed and settled down to read a Terry Pratchett book Stephen had got him for Christmas. Lazing in bed was a rare luxury, with days off frequently disturbed by one anomaly-related crisis or another, but if Lester wanted them in work now, he’d have to send a helicopter, as even the range Rover would struggle at the moment, and Ryan had no desire to end up in a ditch while trying to reach the main roads.
They finally got up a couple of hours later by which time the sky had cleared and weak sunlight was sparkling on the frozen snow and glinting on the frost-covered spiders’ webs that adorned the bushes and the neatly stacked logs in the woodstore.
“Walk first or breakfast first?” Ryan asked.
“Breakfast first. Bacon butties?” Stephen said hopefully.
“Bacon and egg butties if you’re very lucky.”
“I knew there was a reason I loved you.”
“You mean apart from the way I fuck your brains out?”
“Yeah, that too, soldier boy.” Stephen pulled Ryan close for a deep, lazy kiss. “You cook and I’ll bring more wood in.”
After breakfast, they wrapped up warmly and ventured out for a walk across the snow-covered fields, following a narrow footpath that led to the nearby woods. The layer of ice crystals on top of the snow crunched under their boots and their breath hung white in the chilly air. They walked a wide circuit around the trees and fields for two hours before making their way back to the cottage for a simple lunch of bread, cold ham and cheese.
Afterwards, they curled up together on the sofa to catch up on their reading piles. Ryan went back to reading Night Watch and Stephen settled down to read his present from Cutter, American Dinosaur Abroad, the story of the Natural History Museum’s famous diplodocus cast, Dippy.
Stephen ended up sprawled out with his head on Ryan’s lap and after a while, he dozed off, the book resting on his chest.
Ryan gently carded his fingers through his lover’s hair, watching as his long dark eyelashes fluttered softly on his cheeks as Stephen slipped deeper into sleep. Ryan didn’t think he’d ever tire of seeing Stephen so relaxed and peaceful, the stresses of the job smoothed away by a decent night’s sleep, and some exercise that didn’t involve chasing dinosaurs.
He pulled a soft fleece blanket off the back of the sofa and draped it over Stephen without waking him.
The room was warm, Stephen was gorgeous, Ryan was comfortable, and he was enjoying his book.
Life was definitely good.
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 15
Characters : Stephen/Ryan
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : Ryan and Stephen take a much needed break at the cottage at Eye.
A/N : Written for
cordeliadelayne’s Denial Stocking. The painting is by artist John Ridgewell.“It’s snowing!” Stephen announced, heaving a wicker basket full of logs into the cottage and quickly closing the door to keep out the cold air.
“Good job we’re not back at work for a week,” Ryan commented, giving the beef stew in the slow cooker a quick stir before putting the lid back on. “When it settles around here, the roads are a bloody nightmare.”
“Don’t they have snowploughs in deepest Suffolk?”
“Nope, the buggers over in Essex nicked ‘em all and won’t give ‘em back. Anyway, you’ve seen most of the roads in this neck of the woods. You’d be lucky to fit a Dinky toy up some of them, let alone a plough, and even on the wider roads, one mistake and you’d be in a ditch.”
“So if it pitches we’re stuck?” Stephen’s expression looked distinctly hopeful.
“Yep, more stuck than a stuck thing. We’ve got a fridge full of food and enough booze to float a battleship. Definitely our turn for some down time.”
Stephen wrapped his arms around Ryan’s waist and nuzzled the back of his neck. “Too bloody right it is. Stuck sounds positively idyllic. I’ll get the wood stacked, you do the drinks.”
The woodburning stove in the living room was the main source of heat in the small cottage that Ryan had inherited from his grandmother and they’d spent a couple of days in summer chopping logs to make sure the woodstore stayed full. What they were burning now had been cut and stacked two years ago. Ryan knew from past experience that Suffolk winters would be fiercely cold, especially in January, and as the forecast had given a high chance of snow, he’d done a big shop before picking Stephen up from the ARC that morning. The turkey that was defrosting in the larder would feed them for several days. They certainly weren’t going to run short of anything, even if they were cut off for a while.
Later, they ate beef stew and dumplings in front of the fire, sitting cross-legged on the thick rug. The cottage still had its original stone flag floor, but rugs everywhere helped keep the place warm and there were several heavy fleece throws on the back of the sofa to keep the chills at bay when needed.
The cottage at Eye had been Ryan’s place of refuge for several years and he always enjoyed the sense of peace that wrapped around him like a warm blanket whenever he walked through the door. Many of his grandmother’s things were still here, including the beautiful handstitched patchwork quilt that covered the battered but still comfortable sofa, the blue and white pottery on the oak dresser and the heavy, copper-bottomed pans that Ryan still used on the old-fashioned oil-fired range in the small kitchen. The pictures on the walls were delicate watercolours of butterflies, moths, bees and spiders by an artist called Mary Kane. Ryan remembered meeting her when he’d been in his teens. Her artwork, with its subtle colouring and fine brush strokes had always fascinated him and Stephen loved the paintings as much as he did.
The snow fell steadily all evening, and by the time they went to bed, the fields outside the cottage were blanketed in a thick white covering. Ryan had left the bedroom door open all day to take the chill off the room and he carefully banked up the stove with wood to keep it in overnight.
They shed their clothes quickly and dived under the quilt. Their Christmas present from Claudia and Nick had been a soft fleece duvet cover and matching pillowcases covered with cartoon penguins. They’d both instantly fallen in love with it and had bought another set for the cottage decorated with moose and Christmas trees.
They made love unhurriedly, spooned up against each other, skin pressed to skin, and afterwards, Ryan drifted into sleep with his head pillowed on Stephen’s shoulder.
****
Ryan woke up as he always did at 7am and after disentangling himself from a still-sleeping Stephen, he reached for a thick dressing gown and stuffed his feet into a pair of dilapidated slippers before going out to stir the woodburning stove into life and put the kettle on.
The inside of the kitchen windows had iced up overnight and outside, it had started snowing again. The tracks left by a deer that had wandered through the garden were quickly being covered up and from what Ryan could see, half a metre of snow had already fallen with more on the way. This was impressive, even by the standards of Suffolk in January.
Armed with two mugs of tea and a handful of chocolate biscuits, he went back to bed and settled down to read a Terry Pratchett book Stephen had got him for Christmas. Lazing in bed was a rare luxury, with days off frequently disturbed by one anomaly-related crisis or another, but if Lester wanted them in work now, he’d have to send a helicopter, as even the range Rover would struggle at the moment, and Ryan had no desire to end up in a ditch while trying to reach the main roads.
They finally got up a couple of hours later by which time the sky had cleared and weak sunlight was sparkling on the frozen snow and glinting on the frost-covered spiders’ webs that adorned the bushes and the neatly stacked logs in the woodstore.
“Walk first or breakfast first?” Ryan asked.
“Breakfast first. Bacon butties?” Stephen said hopefully.
“Bacon and egg butties if you’re very lucky.”
“I knew there was a reason I loved you.”
“You mean apart from the way I fuck your brains out?”
“Yeah, that too, soldier boy.” Stephen pulled Ryan close for a deep, lazy kiss. “You cook and I’ll bring more wood in.”
After breakfast, they wrapped up warmly and ventured out for a walk across the snow-covered fields, following a narrow footpath that led to the nearby woods. The layer of ice crystals on top of the snow crunched under their boots and their breath hung white in the chilly air. They walked a wide circuit around the trees and fields for two hours before making their way back to the cottage for a simple lunch of bread, cold ham and cheese.
Afterwards, they curled up together on the sofa to catch up on their reading piles. Ryan went back to reading Night Watch and Stephen settled down to read his present from Cutter, American Dinosaur Abroad, the story of the Natural History Museum’s famous diplodocus cast, Dippy.
Stephen ended up sprawled out with his head on Ryan’s lap and after a while, he dozed off, the book resting on his chest.
Ryan gently carded his fingers through his lover’s hair, watching as his long dark eyelashes fluttered softly on his cheeks as Stephen slipped deeper into sleep. Ryan didn’t think he’d ever tire of seeing Stephen so relaxed and peaceful, the stresses of the job smoothed away by a decent night’s sleep, and some exercise that didn’t involve chasing dinosaurs.
He pulled a soft fleece blanket off the back of the sofa and draped it over Stephen without waking him.
The room was warm, Stephen was gorgeous, Ryan was comfortable, and he was enjoying his book.
Life was definitely good.