Fic: The World We Live In
Dec. 28th, 2015 12:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thelibraniniquity posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
tli_productionsTitle: The World We Live In
Fandom: Primeval
Summary: In which Ryan goes with the flow.
Characters: Stephen/Ryan, appearances by and references to others
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~1800
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ladydrace
Author's Notes: Written forbigtitch for the 2015 Denial Secret Santa, using the prompt 'travel'. As ever, huge huge thanks to ladydrace for handholding and the last minute beta :D
This is essentially a 5+1 fic, and a sequel to Through The Looking Glass (And What Ryan Found There), the Secret Santa fic I wrote forbigtitch in 2012. I've tried to make this as standalone as possible. Ryan and Stephen were trapped at the spaghetti junction site, and when they found their way home they skipped their canon deaths and landed around the start of series 3, slightly sideways of canon. They became a couple very shortly afterwards.
Title from the song of the same name by The Killers.
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
There probably weren't many people who can safely say they've experienced two different realities. Two alternate time lines. Maybe it had been one too many Star Trek episodes as a child, but Ryan had always harboured a suspicion that he'd be able to figure out the differences by facial hair.
James Lester's face was just as clean shaven as Sir James' had been.
It was almost disappointing.
The biggest difference by far was Jennifer Lewis. She was wary of Ryan and Stephen for the first few weeks, understandably so, but both of them were nothing but courteous to her. Ryan couldn't offer her anything in the way of a peace offering until he found her in the shooting range, ripping into the paper targets with a posture and confidence that he might have been intrigued by had he not been snogging Stephen in his kitchen like a horny teenager the night before.
Jenny quickly realised she was being watched.
"Nice shoulders," Ryan said.
Jenny raised an elegant eyebrow. "A girl's got to have skills."
The following silence was prickly until Jenny smirked a little. "Let me know if anything else is different around here."
It's not the first time someone had tried using humour as a defence against him. "I could make you a list, if you like."
The smirk turned into a short burst of laughter. "Yes," Jenny murmured. "You do that."
o o o o o
The view from Ryan's bedroom window was a persistent niggle. There was something not right, something different about it, and he couldn't put his finger on what it might be.
He took to drinking his first coffee of the day in front of the window, a chair dragged upstairs to make the recce more palatable. He catalogued as many details as he could think to pay attention to. The colours of the doors on the other side of the street. Fleeting glimpses of the neighbours. The number of children tumbling out of houses in school uniforms.
Well into the second week, Stephen joined him, warm arms sliding around his shoulder and damp hair tickling the back of Ryan's neck.
"You're back early," Ryan said. There were still seven minutes of the forty minute run left on the clock. It had taken Stephen all of two days to construct a route in the new-to-him neighbourhood, and his new habits had not wavered until now.
Everything about this is far easier than Ryan knew it had any business being, but he had also learned a long time ago that sometimes it was better to just go with the flow.
He felt Stephen hum into his neck. "Roadworks near the park. Couldn't be bothered to go around so I doubled back. What about the dustbins?"
"Hmm?" Ryan peered out of the window. The council issued bins were in the same places he'd always remembered them being. "No, the -"
And just like that, he saw it. In the window behind number thirty-four's dustbin is an election poster. Yellow and black and Ryan squinted but he couldn't quite make out the words.
"Nick Clegg," Stephen read out. "A better government, today."
"Is that a joke?" Ryan wondered, but Stephen had already pulled out Ryan's laptop from the bedside table. It took a few minutes for his eyebrows to start climbing. "We've got a Lib Dem government. Fuck me," he breathed. He looked up, met Ryan's gaze. "I think I need consoling," he deadpanned. "Please, Ryan. Hold me."
Ryan snorted and drank the rest of his coffee. "It was fuck you a minute ago."
Stephen grinned, tucked the laptop away and leaned back on the bed. "Well, if you're offering..."
"You're incorrigible," Ryan told him, but he was smiling, and already halfway across the room.
o o o o o
The next day Stephen strolled into Ryan's office at the ARC (the term 'office' was used loosely; it was a glorified broom cupboard that had been re-purposed until the civil service and army got their collective acts together to reinstate him to active duty). He balanced two cups of coffee on a hardback book with Ryan's laptop tucked under his other arm.
He made all of this, plus the act of closing the door quietly behind him, look like ballet. Even before their trip around the anomaly spaghetti junction Ryan had known that grace was built into Stephen Hart the way other people had innate senses of direction or the annoying ability to know exactly where they'd left the keys.
Now he just had the chance to appreciate it in a... less professional manner.
Stephen set the coffees down, one a bit closer to Ryan, then the laptop. In the same movement he opened it and tapped a few keys.
Music filled the small room. Ryan didn't recognise it, mangled guitars and something else that was probably spat out by a computer. He frowned. “What is it?”
Stephen looked amused. “According to Connor, the contents of my iPod.”
The penny dropped.
“I looked them up,” Stephen continued. “Apparently they're one of the biggest bands in Britain, have been for years. Coldplay.”
Ryan shook his head. “Doesn't mean anything to me.”
Stephen shrugged. “Not just me, then.”
“Anything on there you actually like?”
“Some of it's not bad,” Stephen said. “Connor's still looking for the actual iPod, I'll wait until I have it back before I investigate whatever the spice girls are supposed to be.”
o o o o o
Towards the end of week 4, Ryan joined Stephen on his morning run. They took a leisurely route through town and out towards the park, only a few early bird business suits and clearly hungover kids to be seen.
At the far side of the park, a bright sign caught Ryan's eye. He stopped just long enough for Stephen to collide with his right shoulder, reached out and steadied them both. His hand rested on Stephen's elbow while he squinted at the distraction.
Stephen quickly caught his breath and looked to where Ryan was staring. He made a quizzical noise that Ryan fully agreed with.
What the fuck was a Starbucks?
o o o o o
Lester granted Ryan and Stephen four consecutive days of joint leave with uncharacteristically little complaint. Ryan suspected it was more than that, but another thing he'd learned since his job description expanded to involve rips in time and space was that you never look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially ones that wore sharply creased pinstripe and were the only thing saving him from a stint teaching at Sandhurst.
Stephen decided they would drive down to Brighton. There was a bed and breakfast run by an old flatmate of his, all of which was apparently exactly as Stephen remembered it, at least if the website was anything to go by.
The journey down was punctuated by loud pop music, some of which Ryan recognised from karaoke nights with the lads and a lot of which was apparently the Spice Girls.
By the fourth repetition of 'Wannabe' Ryan's finger were tapping along on the steering wheel. Stephen sang along, word perfect but tune awful. He looked more relaxed than Ryan had ever seen him and when he caught Ryan's eye a smile tugged at the edge of Stephen's mouth.
Their fingers brushed as they walk along the promenade. Ryan slipped an arm around Stephen to pull him out of the path of an oncoming unicyclist and when Stephen leaned into him a little more he smiled.
He wanted to ask Stephen if anything around here has changed, if there were any more differences between their time lines, but he didn't. Maybe it was the sunshine, maybe it was the two piers mirroring each other perfectly further along the beach.
Maybe it was something deeper inside him that Ryan didn't quite have a name for yet but he stayed quiet and enjoyed the moment.
“Zach's different,” Stephen said after a while.
It took Ryan a moment to remember the hemp-clad hippie whom Stephen had once shared a bedsit with. “Oh?”
He felt Stephen shrug. “Little things. The Zach I remember wouldn't have been caught dead drinking green tea. His socks match.”
Ryan snorted. “Maybe he met someone who changed his habits.”
“Maybe.” Stephen didn't sound convinced. “I was talking to him while you were in the shower; he swore blind he'd never done the naked bike ride.”
Ryan stopped walking. “I know those are words,” he said slowly, “but together?”
Stephen broke out into a fully fledged grin. “Didn't I tell you?” he asked, his voice dripping with pretend innocence. “That's how Zach and I met. Naked bike riding for charity.”
All sorts of things flashed through Ryan's mind. Mostly Stephen's naked form – which he had plenty of visual reference for now – straddling a bicycle. In public.
Stephen laughed. “I think they're running another one down here this year. I could sign us both up?”
Ryan stared at him. “You little shit.”
“You take that back.”
Ryan smirked. “Make me.”
Stephen stepped right into Ryan's personal space, so close their noses were touching. “Oh,” he murmured, “I will.”
o o o o o
At ten past two on a Tuesday morning Stephen was phoned about an anomaly alert. Ryan drove him; Stephen still hadn't done anything about getting a car now he no longer had access to a CMU 4x4. If Ryan was a suspicious man he might have suspected Stephen enjoyed riding shotgun on Ryan's Harley a little too much, but he didn't see the point in making too big a fuss when he enjoyed having Stephen's arms wrapped around his waist as well.
The anomaly was in the car park of a car dealership. Ryan and Stephen were two of the last to arrive; Ryan was quickly corralled by Captain Becker to help set up a perimeter while Stephen was dragged away by Connor to assemble a prototype anomaly lock.
“Bit different to how you remember, sir?” Becker asked.
Ryan nodded. “Some of it, yeah. And knock it off with the sir.”
Becker raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Connor and Stephen had almost got what looked like an oversized Meccano gun put together when another car pulled up and a dishevelled Cutter clambered out. He went straight for Connor and Stephen, poking the gun-like device while talking quietly with Stephen. As Ryan watched Stephen replied quickly and easily, clearly relaxed.
A knot that Ryan didn't realise was in his chest settled. It looked like some things would never change, and that was quite all right with him.
And judging by the glance Stephen shot him over Cutter's shoulder, he agreed too.
Fandom: Primeval
Summary: In which Ryan goes with the flow.
Characters: Stephen/Ryan, appearances by and references to others
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~1800
Beta:
ladydraceAuthor's Notes: Written for
bigtitch for the 2015 Denial Secret Santa, using the prompt 'travel'. As ever, huge huge thanks to ladydrace for handholding and the last minute beta :DThis is essentially a 5+1 fic, and a sequel to Through The Looking Glass (And What Ryan Found There), the Secret Santa fic I wrote for
bigtitch in 2012. I've tried to make this as standalone as possible. Title from the song of the same name by The Killers.
There probably weren't many people who can safely say they've experienced two different realities. Two alternate time lines. Maybe it had been one too many Star Trek episodes as a child, but Ryan had always harboured a suspicion that he'd be able to figure out the differences by facial hair.
James Lester's face was just as clean shaven as Sir James' had been.
It was almost disappointing.
The biggest difference by far was Jennifer Lewis. She was wary of Ryan and Stephen for the first few weeks, understandably so, but both of them were nothing but courteous to her. Ryan couldn't offer her anything in the way of a peace offering until he found her in the shooting range, ripping into the paper targets with a posture and confidence that he might have been intrigued by had he not been snogging Stephen in his kitchen like a horny teenager the night before.
Jenny quickly realised she was being watched.
"Nice shoulders," Ryan said.
Jenny raised an elegant eyebrow. "A girl's got to have skills."
The following silence was prickly until Jenny smirked a little. "Let me know if anything else is different around here."
It's not the first time someone had tried using humour as a defence against him. "I could make you a list, if you like."
The smirk turned into a short burst of laughter. "Yes," Jenny murmured. "You do that."
The view from Ryan's bedroom window was a persistent niggle. There was something not right, something different about it, and he couldn't put his finger on what it might be.
He took to drinking his first coffee of the day in front of the window, a chair dragged upstairs to make the recce more palatable. He catalogued as many details as he could think to pay attention to. The colours of the doors on the other side of the street. Fleeting glimpses of the neighbours. The number of children tumbling out of houses in school uniforms.
Well into the second week, Stephen joined him, warm arms sliding around his shoulder and damp hair tickling the back of Ryan's neck.
"You're back early," Ryan said. There were still seven minutes of the forty minute run left on the clock. It had taken Stephen all of two days to construct a route in the new-to-him neighbourhood, and his new habits had not wavered until now.
Everything about this is far easier than Ryan knew it had any business being, but he had also learned a long time ago that sometimes it was better to just go with the flow.
He felt Stephen hum into his neck. "Roadworks near the park. Couldn't be bothered to go around so I doubled back. What about the dustbins?"
"Hmm?" Ryan peered out of the window. The council issued bins were in the same places he'd always remembered them being. "No, the -"
And just like that, he saw it. In the window behind number thirty-four's dustbin is an election poster. Yellow and black and Ryan squinted but he couldn't quite make out the words.
"Nick Clegg," Stephen read out. "A better government, today."
"Is that a joke?" Ryan wondered, but Stephen had already pulled out Ryan's laptop from the bedside table. It took a few minutes for his eyebrows to start climbing. "We've got a Lib Dem government. Fuck me," he breathed. He looked up, met Ryan's gaze. "I think I need consoling," he deadpanned. "Please, Ryan. Hold me."
Ryan snorted and drank the rest of his coffee. "It was fuck you a minute ago."
Stephen grinned, tucked the laptop away and leaned back on the bed. "Well, if you're offering..."
"You're incorrigible," Ryan told him, but he was smiling, and already halfway across the room.
The next day Stephen strolled into Ryan's office at the ARC (the term 'office' was used loosely; it was a glorified broom cupboard that had been re-purposed until the civil service and army got their collective acts together to reinstate him to active duty). He balanced two cups of coffee on a hardback book with Ryan's laptop tucked under his other arm.
He made all of this, plus the act of closing the door quietly behind him, look like ballet. Even before their trip around the anomaly spaghetti junction Ryan had known that grace was built into Stephen Hart the way other people had innate senses of direction or the annoying ability to know exactly where they'd left the keys.
Now he just had the chance to appreciate it in a... less professional manner.
Stephen set the coffees down, one a bit closer to Ryan, then the laptop. In the same movement he opened it and tapped a few keys.
Music filled the small room. Ryan didn't recognise it, mangled guitars and something else that was probably spat out by a computer. He frowned. “What is it?”
Stephen looked amused. “According to Connor, the contents of my iPod.”
The penny dropped.
“I looked them up,” Stephen continued. “Apparently they're one of the biggest bands in Britain, have been for years. Coldplay.”
Ryan shook his head. “Doesn't mean anything to me.”
Stephen shrugged. “Not just me, then.”
“Anything on there you actually like?”
“Some of it's not bad,” Stephen said. “Connor's still looking for the actual iPod, I'll wait until I have it back before I investigate whatever the spice girls are supposed to be.”
Towards the end of week 4, Ryan joined Stephen on his morning run. They took a leisurely route through town and out towards the park, only a few early bird business suits and clearly hungover kids to be seen.
At the far side of the park, a bright sign caught Ryan's eye. He stopped just long enough for Stephen to collide with his right shoulder, reached out and steadied them both. His hand rested on Stephen's elbow while he squinted at the distraction.
Stephen quickly caught his breath and looked to where Ryan was staring. He made a quizzical noise that Ryan fully agreed with.
What the fuck was a Starbucks?
Lester granted Ryan and Stephen four consecutive days of joint leave with uncharacteristically little complaint. Ryan suspected it was more than that, but another thing he'd learned since his job description expanded to involve rips in time and space was that you never look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially ones that wore sharply creased pinstripe and were the only thing saving him from a stint teaching at Sandhurst.
Stephen decided they would drive down to Brighton. There was a bed and breakfast run by an old flatmate of his, all of which was apparently exactly as Stephen remembered it, at least if the website was anything to go by.
The journey down was punctuated by loud pop music, some of which Ryan recognised from karaoke nights with the lads and a lot of which was apparently the Spice Girls.
By the fourth repetition of 'Wannabe' Ryan's finger were tapping along on the steering wheel. Stephen sang along, word perfect but tune awful. He looked more relaxed than Ryan had ever seen him and when he caught Ryan's eye a smile tugged at the edge of Stephen's mouth.
Their fingers brushed as they walk along the promenade. Ryan slipped an arm around Stephen to pull him out of the path of an oncoming unicyclist and when Stephen leaned into him a little more he smiled.
He wanted to ask Stephen if anything around here has changed, if there were any more differences between their time lines, but he didn't. Maybe it was the sunshine, maybe it was the two piers mirroring each other perfectly further along the beach.
Maybe it was something deeper inside him that Ryan didn't quite have a name for yet but he stayed quiet and enjoyed the moment.
“Zach's different,” Stephen said after a while.
It took Ryan a moment to remember the hemp-clad hippie whom Stephen had once shared a bedsit with. “Oh?”
He felt Stephen shrug. “Little things. The Zach I remember wouldn't have been caught dead drinking green tea. His socks match.”
Ryan snorted. “Maybe he met someone who changed his habits.”
“Maybe.” Stephen didn't sound convinced. “I was talking to him while you were in the shower; he swore blind he'd never done the naked bike ride.”
Ryan stopped walking. “I know those are words,” he said slowly, “but together?”
Stephen broke out into a fully fledged grin. “Didn't I tell you?” he asked, his voice dripping with pretend innocence. “That's how Zach and I met. Naked bike riding for charity.”
All sorts of things flashed through Ryan's mind. Mostly Stephen's naked form – which he had plenty of visual reference for now – straddling a bicycle. In public.
Stephen laughed. “I think they're running another one down here this year. I could sign us both up?”
Ryan stared at him. “You little shit.”
“You take that back.”
Ryan smirked. “Make me.”
Stephen stepped right into Ryan's personal space, so close their noses were touching. “Oh,” he murmured, “I will.”
At ten past two on a Tuesday morning Stephen was phoned about an anomaly alert. Ryan drove him; Stephen still hadn't done anything about getting a car now he no longer had access to a CMU 4x4. If Ryan was a suspicious man he might have suspected Stephen enjoyed riding shotgun on Ryan's Harley a little too much, but he didn't see the point in making too big a fuss when he enjoyed having Stephen's arms wrapped around his waist as well.
The anomaly was in the car park of a car dealership. Ryan and Stephen were two of the last to arrive; Ryan was quickly corralled by Captain Becker to help set up a perimeter while Stephen was dragged away by Connor to assemble a prototype anomaly lock.
“Bit different to how you remember, sir?” Becker asked.
Ryan nodded. “Some of it, yeah. And knock it off with the sir.”
Becker raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Connor and Stephen had almost got what looked like an oversized Meccano gun put together when another car pulled up and a dishevelled Cutter clambered out. He went straight for Connor and Stephen, poking the gun-like device while talking quietly with Stephen. As Ryan watched Stephen replied quickly and easily, clearly relaxed.
A knot that Ryan didn't realise was in his chest settled. It looked like some things would never change, and that was quite all right with him.
And judging by the glance Stephen shot him over Cutter's shoulder, he agreed too.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2015-12-28 03:43 pm (UTC)I love how you've brought in the little differences between the old world and the new.
*snorfle* Considering how ubiquitous Starbucks are I started laughing out loud on that one!
Yay for happy endings!
no subject
Date: 2015-12-30 10:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-12-28 04:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-12-30 10:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-12-28 05:02 pm (UTC)LOL at the Starbucks' line! I love it!
Thank you so much for my fic! And the mental image of Ryan and Stephen doing a naked bicycle ride!
no subject
Date: 2015-12-30 10:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-12-28 05:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-12-30 10:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-12-28 07:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-12-30 10:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-12-28 08:43 pm (UTC)*g* The naked bike ride sounds like a great idea!
no subject
Date: 2015-12-30 10:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-01-01 01:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-01-01 06:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-01-04 07:37 am (UTC)The best bits make up for it!
Beautiful. X
no subject
Date: 2016-01-04 10:22 am (UTC)