ebonyfeather (ebonyfeather) wrote,

FIC: Aftermath

Fandom: Primeval
Pairing: Danny / Becker
Word Count: 367
Summary: For Knitekat’s primeval denial fandom stocking, using the prompt ‘Christmas parties were just asking for trouble’.


Becker sighed, wondering why he’d managed to get stuck with chaperone duty, as he led the uniformed man through the building. They couldn’t exactly let members of the public wander around a research facility on their own, hence the escort. Reaching their destination, he leaned against the doorframe as he watched the man get to work, letting his mind wander as he mentally planned what he had to do that afternoon.

“All done, mate.”

Becker’s attention snapped back to the present, realising that ten minutes had gone by.

“So, what was wrong with it?” he asked, making conversation as the technician gathered his tools and picked up his bag.

The other man looked like he was holding back a smile. “By any chance, was your Christmas party last night?”

Becker frowned. “Yes... Oh hell, what did they do?”

The technician handed him a sheet of paper, the last thing to go through the photocopier, the one that was stuck. It’s a bare arse, pressed to the glass. An arse that Becker recognised, not that he was going to admit it.

“Whoever owns that,” the technician said, indicating to the copy in Becker’s hands, “also managed to drop half a mince pie into the paper feed tray. Mincemeat and paper rollers do not go together.”

“I’m really sorry we had to bring you all the way out here to fix this,” Becker told him.

The man laughed. “Don’t worry about it. You aren’t the first, and you won’t be the last.”

Becker apologised again as he escorted the technician out, closing the door behind him as he looked at the copy still in his hands.

Going back upstairs toward the team’s offices he found the one he was looking for, the man himself inside with the lights out as he leaned on his desk with his head in his hands.


Becker flicked the lights on and Danny looked up, squinting. “Turn them off and stop yelling, Hils. Please. My head’s killing me.”

Becker held out the copy, smiling at the thunk of Danny’s head hitting the desk again, and the muffled swearing the followed.

“The copier is fixed,” Becker told him. “But you’re explaining it to Lester.”


Tags: fiction: slash, hilary becker / danny quinn, tv: primeval

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