Fic, Harris, Danny/Becker, 12
Feb. 26th, 2022 03:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fredbassettTitle : Harris
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 12
Characters : Becker/Danny
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : It’s cute, it’s furry, it’s staying
A/N Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ebonyfeather’s ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
primeval_denial Gift Box.
“So, what does the dating gizmo say?” Danny asked, as Connor quickly set up his monitoring equipment and Becker’s men spread out around a muddy field in Gloucestershire to check for tracks.
“Late Iron Age,” Connor said. “Give or take a couple of hundred years. The readings are showing quite a wide margin for error. Don’t think this one is going to be hanging around very long.”
“Shall we lock it?”
“May as well. No point in taking any chances. Don’t want to risk running up against any of the locals.”
Danny signalled to the soldier who was busily setting up the locking mechanism.
The man nodded.
A minute later a muffled curse told him something hadn’t quite gone according to plan.
“Problem, Gaz?” Connor called.
“Amber light, sir. She’s not a happy bunny.”
Danny rolled his eyes. They’d had tech trouble all week.
Connor hurried over and started to fiddle with the control panel.
The anomaly promptly decided to make their lives interesting and flared brightly in a way that always meant trouble.
“Incoming!” Becker yelled.
Something small, brown and furry shot out of the shattered light, dashed straight between Becker’s legs and was heading for the nearest ditch when Danny flung himself to the ground and scooped the creature up in both hands, rolling onto his back to cushion his fall and holding his prize up.
The creature promptly pissed all over him.
Danny stared into a pair of intelligent dark eyes set in a sharp, almost fox-like face with a pointed muzzle and large, pricked ears.
He grimaced. “It’s a good thing you’re cute.”
Becker grinned down at him. “It’s a good thing you’re kinky like that.”
“Fuck off, soldier boy.”
Becker grabbed Danny’s elbow and hauled him to his feet. “Come on, best get this one back to its own time.”
“Too late,” Connor said heavily as the anomaly flickered once then disappeared.
“This really isn’t our fucking week, is it?” Danny said as the brown bundle of fur in his hands wagged its tail uncertainly. He couldn’t even palm the critter off on their animal expert as Abby was at home with a nasty bout of morning sickness. “What the hell are we going to do with you, little mate?”
****
The puppy dived into the bowl of raw beef mince with added bone meal and scoffed the lot with indecent haste then toddled over to the pile of old towels Danny had put down in the corner of the recreation room, sniffed then thoroughly, then turned around a few times before plopping down and promptly falling asleep.
The vet who covered for Abby when she needed help had checked the creature over, pronounced it to be a perfectly healthy puppy of a small terrier-type and asked if they wanted her to settle it down in a corner of the menagerie.
“He’ll be lonely!” Danny had protested.
Maria had laughed and given him some instructions for caring for the little dog and told him not to take him out of the ARC’s grounds as they couldn’t risk spreading any Iron Age parasites to the local dog population. She’d also handed him a roll of poo bags and told him to take any outputs to the labs so tests could be run.
Connor wandered into the breakroom brandishing his iPad. “According to Harcourt in 1974, small dogs were only introduced to Britain by the Romans.”
“He’s a puppy. He might be an Irish Wolfhound when he grows up.”
“Not with paws that size. He’s a small breed puppy. Maria worked in a small animal practice for six years. She says he’ll probably be about the size of a Jack Russell when he’s fully grown.”
“So your dating gizmo was throwing a wobbly,” Becker commented, squatting down next to the pup and running his hand over the little animal’s soft fur. “You said it could have been out by a couple of hundred years.”
“That still wouldn’t have put it anywhere near the Roman invasion. Maybe they were selectively breeding for a small size earlier than we thought? I know someone who’s writing an MA on Iron Age dogs …”
“Forget it,” Danny and Becker chorused. “You know Lester’ll have a duck fit if you start talking to your old uni mates,” Danny added.
“Still interesting, though,” Connor said. “There have been a couple of dogs the size of corgis found at a couple of sites. They were used to herd cattle but this little guy looks like he might have been bred for ratting.”
“Norman’ll be pleased.” Their maintenance supervisor had been muttering darkly about rats in the basement for a few weeks. Lester’s suggestion of a cat hadn’t found any favour as Norman said they set off his asthma.
“Little fella’s too young for that just yet,” Becker said.
The puppy slept most of the evening, then at Maria’s suggestion, they slipped a small harness on him, clipped a lead to it and took him outside into the grounds.
Danny had to admit that the little creature was seriously cute. To Becker’s amusement, his boyfriend looked on like a proud parent while the pup peed then produced a large, well-formed poo that Danny bagged up and deposited in Maria’s lab.
“So, where’s he going to sleep?” Becker asked, eyeing Danny suspiciously.
Danny scooped the puppy up in his arms and cuddled him protectively. “You wouldn’t confine the ickle fella to a nasty pen in the menagerie, would you, Becks?”
Becker rolled his eyes. “Cut it out, Quinn. We are not having a feral Iron Age mutt in the bedroom.”
The puppy snuggled into the crook of Danny’s arm and promptly fell asleep again.
“Beeeecks …”
The next eye-roll was distinctly half-hearted, and Danny scented an early victory. “Maria says he hasn’t got fleas, and he doesn’t smell …”
“If he pees or craps on the floor, you’re clearing up after him …. And he is definitely not sleeping on the bed, Quinn. I draw the line at that.”
****
At four am, after taking the puppy outside for another pee, Danny slid back into bed and nobly kept his cold feet away from his sleeping boyfriend.
Becker muttered something in his sleep and snuggled up to Danny, throwing an arm around his waist.
Danny smiled. When they’d first got together, he hadn’t expected the reserved young captain to be a cuddler. That had been a very welcome development.
Five minutes later, he heard a soft whine from the puppy. “Shush, little guy,” Danny murmured.
Attracted by the sound of his voice, the puppy clambered out of his towel nest and jumped up next to Danny’s cold feet. He couldn’t move the little dog without waking Becker and Becker had had a hard week, so it wouldn’t have been fair to disturb him … yep, that sounded like a perfectly good excuse for galloping at speed past the arbitrary line Becker had drawn in the sand.
****
Becker woke up at 6am as he always did, except this time it was to the sound Danny whiffling in one ear and the feel of something small and warm nestled up against his feet.
The puppy was fast asleep at the bottom of the bed.
Danny snorted in his sleep and started to turn over.
“Careful,” Becker warned, pulling Danny back to spoon against him. “You’ll wake Harris.”
“Harris?” Danny mumbled sleepily.
“Tell you later, Quinn. Now go back to sleep.”
Danny waggled his arse suggestively against him, sending Becker’s half-mast morning hard-on into full salute. “Got a better idea, soldier boy. Just make sure you don’t wake sweetie pie up.”
“He’s an Iron Age puppy, not a bloody cockapoo …”
Danny snorted a laugh. “Dunno who came up with that bloody stupid name.”
“Someone with no sense of humour,” Becker said, reaching until the pillow for what he was going to need next.
At the bottom of the bed, Harris stood up, turned around three times and went straight back to sleep.
As it turned out, Iron Age puppies were very sound sleepers.
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 12
Characters : Becker/Danny
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : It’s cute, it’s furry, it’s staying
A/N Written for
ebonyfeather’s primeval_denial Gift Box.“So, what does the dating gizmo say?” Danny asked, as Connor quickly set up his monitoring equipment and Becker’s men spread out around a muddy field in Gloucestershire to check for tracks.
“Late Iron Age,” Connor said. “Give or take a couple of hundred years. The readings are showing quite a wide margin for error. Don’t think this one is going to be hanging around very long.”
“Shall we lock it?”
“May as well. No point in taking any chances. Don’t want to risk running up against any of the locals.”
Danny signalled to the soldier who was busily setting up the locking mechanism.
The man nodded.
A minute later a muffled curse told him something hadn’t quite gone according to plan.
“Problem, Gaz?” Connor called.
“Amber light, sir. She’s not a happy bunny.”
Danny rolled his eyes. They’d had tech trouble all week.
Connor hurried over and started to fiddle with the control panel.
The anomaly promptly decided to make their lives interesting and flared brightly in a way that always meant trouble.
“Incoming!” Becker yelled.
Something small, brown and furry shot out of the shattered light, dashed straight between Becker’s legs and was heading for the nearest ditch when Danny flung himself to the ground and scooped the creature up in both hands, rolling onto his back to cushion his fall and holding his prize up.
The creature promptly pissed all over him.
Danny stared into a pair of intelligent dark eyes set in a sharp, almost fox-like face with a pointed muzzle and large, pricked ears.
He grimaced. “It’s a good thing you’re cute.”
Becker grinned down at him. “It’s a good thing you’re kinky like that.”
“Fuck off, soldier boy.”
Becker grabbed Danny’s elbow and hauled him to his feet. “Come on, best get this one back to its own time.”
“Too late,” Connor said heavily as the anomaly flickered once then disappeared.
“This really isn’t our fucking week, is it?” Danny said as the brown bundle of fur in his hands wagged its tail uncertainly. He couldn’t even palm the critter off on their animal expert as Abby was at home with a nasty bout of morning sickness. “What the hell are we going to do with you, little mate?”
****
The puppy dived into the bowl of raw beef mince with added bone meal and scoffed the lot with indecent haste then toddled over to the pile of old towels Danny had put down in the corner of the recreation room, sniffed then thoroughly, then turned around a few times before plopping down and promptly falling asleep.
The vet who covered for Abby when she needed help had checked the creature over, pronounced it to be a perfectly healthy puppy of a small terrier-type and asked if they wanted her to settle it down in a corner of the menagerie.
“He’ll be lonely!” Danny had protested.
Maria had laughed and given him some instructions for caring for the little dog and told him not to take him out of the ARC’s grounds as they couldn’t risk spreading any Iron Age parasites to the local dog population. She’d also handed him a roll of poo bags and told him to take any outputs to the labs so tests could be run.
Connor wandered into the breakroom brandishing his iPad. “According to Harcourt in 1974, small dogs were only introduced to Britain by the Romans.”
“He’s a puppy. He might be an Irish Wolfhound when he grows up.”
“Not with paws that size. He’s a small breed puppy. Maria worked in a small animal practice for six years. She says he’ll probably be about the size of a Jack Russell when he’s fully grown.”
“So your dating gizmo was throwing a wobbly,” Becker commented, squatting down next to the pup and running his hand over the little animal’s soft fur. “You said it could have been out by a couple of hundred years.”
“That still wouldn’t have put it anywhere near the Roman invasion. Maybe they were selectively breeding for a small size earlier than we thought? I know someone who’s writing an MA on Iron Age dogs …”
“Forget it,” Danny and Becker chorused. “You know Lester’ll have a duck fit if you start talking to your old uni mates,” Danny added.
“Still interesting, though,” Connor said. “There have been a couple of dogs the size of corgis found at a couple of sites. They were used to herd cattle but this little guy looks like he might have been bred for ratting.”
“Norman’ll be pleased.” Their maintenance supervisor had been muttering darkly about rats in the basement for a few weeks. Lester’s suggestion of a cat hadn’t found any favour as Norman said they set off his asthma.
“Little fella’s too young for that just yet,” Becker said.
The puppy slept most of the evening, then at Maria’s suggestion, they slipped a small harness on him, clipped a lead to it and took him outside into the grounds.
Danny had to admit that the little creature was seriously cute. To Becker’s amusement, his boyfriend looked on like a proud parent while the pup peed then produced a large, well-formed poo that Danny bagged up and deposited in Maria’s lab.
“So, where’s he going to sleep?” Becker asked, eyeing Danny suspiciously.
Danny scooped the puppy up in his arms and cuddled him protectively. “You wouldn’t confine the ickle fella to a nasty pen in the menagerie, would you, Becks?”
Becker rolled his eyes. “Cut it out, Quinn. We are not having a feral Iron Age mutt in the bedroom.”
The puppy snuggled into the crook of Danny’s arm and promptly fell asleep again.
“Beeeecks …”
The next eye-roll was distinctly half-hearted, and Danny scented an early victory. “Maria says he hasn’t got fleas, and he doesn’t smell …”
“If he pees or craps on the floor, you’re clearing up after him …. And he is definitely not sleeping on the bed, Quinn. I draw the line at that.”
****
At four am, after taking the puppy outside for another pee, Danny slid back into bed and nobly kept his cold feet away from his sleeping boyfriend.
Becker muttered something in his sleep and snuggled up to Danny, throwing an arm around his waist.
Danny smiled. When they’d first got together, he hadn’t expected the reserved young captain to be a cuddler. That had been a very welcome development.
Five minutes later, he heard a soft whine from the puppy. “Shush, little guy,” Danny murmured.
Attracted by the sound of his voice, the puppy clambered out of his towel nest and jumped up next to Danny’s cold feet. He couldn’t move the little dog without waking Becker and Becker had had a hard week, so it wouldn’t have been fair to disturb him … yep, that sounded like a perfectly good excuse for galloping at speed past the arbitrary line Becker had drawn in the sand.
****
Becker woke up at 6am as he always did, except this time it was to the sound Danny whiffling in one ear and the feel of something small and warm nestled up against his feet.
The puppy was fast asleep at the bottom of the bed.
Danny snorted in his sleep and started to turn over.
“Careful,” Becker warned, pulling Danny back to spoon against him. “You’ll wake Harris.”
“Harris?” Danny mumbled sleepily.
“Tell you later, Quinn. Now go back to sleep.”
Danny waggled his arse suggestively against him, sending Becker’s half-mast morning hard-on into full salute. “Got a better idea, soldier boy. Just make sure you don’t wake sweetie pie up.”
“He’s an Iron Age puppy, not a bloody cockapoo …”
Danny snorted a laugh. “Dunno who came up with that bloody stupid name.”
“Someone with no sense of humour,” Becker said, reaching until the pillow for what he was going to need next.
At the bottom of the bed, Harris stood up, turned around three times and went straight back to sleep.
As it turned out, Iron Age puppies were very sound sleepers.