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fredbassettTitle : Both Ends Against the Middle
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 12
Characters : Becker/Ryan, Alex, Kay, Marcus
Disclaimer : Not mine (and the pups belong to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fififolle, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : A tale of three puppies in which there is much pee, poo and cussing.
A/N Written fornietie’s ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
primeval_denial Gift Box for the prompt Valentine’s Day. Posting now for mpreg day!
As every parent soon learns, there’s no wake-up call in the world as effective as the sound of a puppy being sick.
Becker rolled out of bed, sprinted across the landing to the nursery and was with the kids even faster than he could have managed a dash to the armoury on an anomaly shout.
Marcus was sitting in the middle of the floor staring disconsolately at a pile of vomit, as though he was wondering where it had come from.
Becker scooped him up for a cuddle and carried him into the bathroom while Ryan dealt with the remains of that night’s tea.
Once Marcus’ muzzle and whiskers had been wiped with a damp cloth, he looked slightly more cheerful, but his dry nose was concerning.
“Best move their baskets into the bedroom,” Becker said when Ryan stuck his head around the door and looked enquiringly at the bundle of black fur in his arms.
“Already done. How’s the patient?”
“Dry nose and his stomach’s gurgling.”
“I’ve stuck some old towels down on the floor.”
With Marcus settled in his basket again, Becker and Ryan went back to bed.
Marcus was sick again less than an hour later and again ten minutes after that, Kay started expelling whatever she’d eaten that afternoon from the other end, equally dramatically.
The bathroom quickly started to resemble some of the less salubrious war zones of their acquaintance, only with fewer bullets flying around and more fur.
When they ended up with Alex joining Kay in the bath going from both ends as well, Becker gave up any pretence of coping and phoned Ditzy.
The medic, who had done an extended stint in obstetrics and paediatrics before joining the army, arrived 15 minutes later, utterly unruffled by being called out to a non-dinosaur related emergency in the middle of the night.
“At the risk of stating the bleeding obvious,” he said, after examining three thoroughly miserable pups under the watchful eye of two equally miserable parents, “they’ve picked up a diarrhoea and vomiting bug.”
“You’re going to say there’s a lot of it about, aren’t you?” Becker said.
Ditzy grinned. “Sorry, mate. Yeah, there’s a lot of it about. Stringer was on about it a couple of days ago. Flo was spouting like a geyser from both ends, Amy was hysterical, and Joel’s cursing was inventive, even by his standards.”
“How long does it last?” Ryan was perched on the edge of the bath, doing is best to clean up his offspring.
“About 24 hours, then they’ll bounce back.” Ditzy shot them a sympathetic look. “You two look wrecked. It’s been a busy week. Get some sleep and I’ll look after these three. I’m off shift for a couple of days.”
Becker almost hated himself for the flash of warmth that offer brought to him. He adored his kids, but triplets could be exhausting and as Ditz had so reasonably pointed out, it had been a busy week. Actually, it had been a complete shit of a week, With an extra strong shit flavoured cherry on top.
The shrill ring of his phone cut off what had been intended as grateful thanks before he even had chance to accept the offer. He listened to the duty officer at the ARC, then cursed so loudly that it even brought a grin to Marcus’ wan looking face. The pup always liked learning new words.
“Don’t repeat that in the nursery,” Becker ordered, the words out before he even realised he’d spoken, then, to Ditzy, “Are you sure, mate? Control’s desperate. There’s an infestation of fucking raptors in the grounds of Windsor Castle. The Prince of fucking Wales is going apeshit.”
Ryan groaned. “Not royalty, please, not fucking royalty.”
Marcus’ muzzle quivered with amusement and even Kay wagged her tail before promptly throwing up again.
“Bugger off, the pair of you, before these little sods learn a whole new vocabulary,” Ditzy ordered, scooping Kay out of the bath along with the other two and swilling the mess down the plug hole.
Becker shot him a grateful look. “We owe you one, Ditz.”
The medic grinned. “I’ve got the best of the deal, mate. I hate dealing with royalty even more than Ryan does.”
****
At the end of a very long day in which even Abby was heard to say, “Will someone just shoot the bloody things?” the team headed back to the ARC to offload their kit, before handing over to the next team on shift then going their separate ways, hoping for at least 12 hours of down time before the next all hands-on-deck emergency.
Becker and Ryan arrived home, filthy, knackered, hungry, thirsty and very, very pissed off with raptors, royal flunkies and gun toting princes.
They were greeted by three bright eyed, tail wagging pups and one medic who looked badly in need of a drink.
The three pups launched themselves at their parents, yipping happily.
Ryan hoisted Marcus into the air while Becker did his best to balance Alex and Kay one on each shoulder.
“Are you going to throw up, mate?” Ryan asked the wriggling black pup. “If you are, do it now before this lot goes in the wash.”
Marcus yipped, belched and wagged his tail, managing to somehow do all three at the same time.
“We’re a vomit free zone,” Ditzy said. “Can’t entire speak for the state of their arses yet. There have been a few instances of wet tail recently, but we’re mostly a poo free zone.”
Becker stared at Alex’s rear end, suspiciously.
“Can’t speak for the state of the U bend in the bathroom sink,” the medic added, “or the rest of the plumbing, but these three haven’t produced anything worse than a weapons’ grade fart in the hour, so I think they’re over the worst of it.”
“You two need a shower, a drink and some food, in that order,” a fresh voice said.
Becker smiled gratefully at his father, who had just emerged from the kitchen. “You’re a lifesaver, dad.”
“I had a lot of practice when you were young,” Allan Becker said. “Your ability to produce projectile vomit at the drop of a hat was the talk of the Officers’ Mess, so I’m told.”
Becker groaned, “Not the vomit stories, dad, spare me that, it’s been a long day…”
An hour later, considerably more mellow after a long, hot shower, followed by an excellent beef casserole with dumplings and leek mash, washed down with several beers and several more whisky chasers, Becker and Ryan were shooed off to bed, leaving Allan to keep an eye on the pups from the comfort of the spare room while Ditzy cadged a lift home from his long-suffering and extremely patient girlfriend.
Becker turned off the bedside light and settled down with his head on his lover’s shoulder, enjoying the warmth of Ryan’s smoothly muscled body and the comfortable weight of the arm around his waist.
The gun-callused hand that was current caressing his stomach was welcome, too.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, gorgeous,” Ryan murmured, nuzzling Becker’s throat in a way that went straight to his cock.
Maybe it hadn’t been quite such a bad day, after all.
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 12
Characters : Becker/Ryan, Alex, Kay, Marcus
Disclaimer : Not mine (and the pups belong to
fififolle, no money made, don’t sue.Spoilers : None
Summary : A tale of three puppies in which there is much pee, poo and cussing.
A/N Written for
nietie’s primeval_denial Gift Box for the prompt Valentine’s Day. Posting now for mpreg day!As every parent soon learns, there’s no wake-up call in the world as effective as the sound of a puppy being sick.
Becker rolled out of bed, sprinted across the landing to the nursery and was with the kids even faster than he could have managed a dash to the armoury on an anomaly shout.
Marcus was sitting in the middle of the floor staring disconsolately at a pile of vomit, as though he was wondering where it had come from.
Becker scooped him up for a cuddle and carried him into the bathroom while Ryan dealt with the remains of that night’s tea.
Once Marcus’ muzzle and whiskers had been wiped with a damp cloth, he looked slightly more cheerful, but his dry nose was concerning.
“Best move their baskets into the bedroom,” Becker said when Ryan stuck his head around the door and looked enquiringly at the bundle of black fur in his arms.
“Already done. How’s the patient?”
“Dry nose and his stomach’s gurgling.”
“I’ve stuck some old towels down on the floor.”
With Marcus settled in his basket again, Becker and Ryan went back to bed.
Marcus was sick again less than an hour later and again ten minutes after that, Kay started expelling whatever she’d eaten that afternoon from the other end, equally dramatically.
The bathroom quickly started to resemble some of the less salubrious war zones of their acquaintance, only with fewer bullets flying around and more fur.
When they ended up with Alex joining Kay in the bath going from both ends as well, Becker gave up any pretence of coping and phoned Ditzy.
The medic, who had done an extended stint in obstetrics and paediatrics before joining the army, arrived 15 minutes later, utterly unruffled by being called out to a non-dinosaur related emergency in the middle of the night.
“At the risk of stating the bleeding obvious,” he said, after examining three thoroughly miserable pups under the watchful eye of two equally miserable parents, “they’ve picked up a diarrhoea and vomiting bug.”
“You’re going to say there’s a lot of it about, aren’t you?” Becker said.
Ditzy grinned. “Sorry, mate. Yeah, there’s a lot of it about. Stringer was on about it a couple of days ago. Flo was spouting like a geyser from both ends, Amy was hysterical, and Joel’s cursing was inventive, even by his standards.”
“How long does it last?” Ryan was perched on the edge of the bath, doing is best to clean up his offspring.
“About 24 hours, then they’ll bounce back.” Ditzy shot them a sympathetic look. “You two look wrecked. It’s been a busy week. Get some sleep and I’ll look after these three. I’m off shift for a couple of days.”
Becker almost hated himself for the flash of warmth that offer brought to him. He adored his kids, but triplets could be exhausting and as Ditz had so reasonably pointed out, it had been a busy week. Actually, it had been a complete shit of a week, With an extra strong shit flavoured cherry on top.
The shrill ring of his phone cut off what had been intended as grateful thanks before he even had chance to accept the offer. He listened to the duty officer at the ARC, then cursed so loudly that it even brought a grin to Marcus’ wan looking face. The pup always liked learning new words.
“Don’t repeat that in the nursery,” Becker ordered, the words out before he even realised he’d spoken, then, to Ditzy, “Are you sure, mate? Control’s desperate. There’s an infestation of fucking raptors in the grounds of Windsor Castle. The Prince of fucking Wales is going apeshit.”
Ryan groaned. “Not royalty, please, not fucking royalty.”
Marcus’ muzzle quivered with amusement and even Kay wagged her tail before promptly throwing up again.
“Bugger off, the pair of you, before these little sods learn a whole new vocabulary,” Ditzy ordered, scooping Kay out of the bath along with the other two and swilling the mess down the plug hole.
Becker shot him a grateful look. “We owe you one, Ditz.”
The medic grinned. “I’ve got the best of the deal, mate. I hate dealing with royalty even more than Ryan does.”
****
At the end of a very long day in which even Abby was heard to say, “Will someone just shoot the bloody things?” the team headed back to the ARC to offload their kit, before handing over to the next team on shift then going their separate ways, hoping for at least 12 hours of down time before the next all hands-on-deck emergency.
Becker and Ryan arrived home, filthy, knackered, hungry, thirsty and very, very pissed off with raptors, royal flunkies and gun toting princes.
They were greeted by three bright eyed, tail wagging pups and one medic who looked badly in need of a drink.
The three pups launched themselves at their parents, yipping happily.
Ryan hoisted Marcus into the air while Becker did his best to balance Alex and Kay one on each shoulder.
“Are you going to throw up, mate?” Ryan asked the wriggling black pup. “If you are, do it now before this lot goes in the wash.”
Marcus yipped, belched and wagged his tail, managing to somehow do all three at the same time.
“We’re a vomit free zone,” Ditzy said. “Can’t entire speak for the state of their arses yet. There have been a few instances of wet tail recently, but we’re mostly a poo free zone.”
Becker stared at Alex’s rear end, suspiciously.
“Can’t speak for the state of the U bend in the bathroom sink,” the medic added, “or the rest of the plumbing, but these three haven’t produced anything worse than a weapons’ grade fart in the hour, so I think they’re over the worst of it.”
“You two need a shower, a drink and some food, in that order,” a fresh voice said.
Becker smiled gratefully at his father, who had just emerged from the kitchen. “You’re a lifesaver, dad.”
“I had a lot of practice when you were young,” Allan Becker said. “Your ability to produce projectile vomit at the drop of a hat was the talk of the Officers’ Mess, so I’m told.”
Becker groaned, “Not the vomit stories, dad, spare me that, it’s been a long day…”
An hour later, considerably more mellow after a long, hot shower, followed by an excellent beef casserole with dumplings and leek mash, washed down with several beers and several more whisky chasers, Becker and Ryan were shooed off to bed, leaving Allan to keep an eye on the pups from the comfort of the spare room while Ditzy cadged a lift home from his long-suffering and extremely patient girlfriend.
Becker turned off the bedside light and settled down with his head on his lover’s shoulder, enjoying the warmth of Ryan’s smoothly muscled body and the comfortable weight of the arm around his waist.
The gun-callused hand that was current caressing his stomach was welcome, too.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, gorgeous,” Ryan murmured, nuzzling Becker’s throat in a way that went straight to his cock.
Maybe it hadn’t been quite such a bad day, after all.
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Date: 2022-03-08 10:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-03-09 07:32 am (UTC)