Another short filler fic for my book project. :)
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Connor/Philip pre-slash, with Abby/Connor references, and a hint of Connor/Nick.
Story: Tech Support
Rating: PG
Warnings/Spoilers: Set shortly before 4x07, with late series 4 references. Creepy predatory behavior on Philip's part.
Author's Note: In my A/B/C universe, but no Becker references.
Summary: Connor’s settled into his work for Philip, and it’s now paying off: He’s made something useful. Philip’s quite pleased with him, and the praise goes to Connor’s head…
Tech Support
“Well, Connor. I think this is very nice indeed. Will be interested to see what happens when it’s got a proper field test.” Philip smiled, and patted Connor’s shoulder.
“Thanks very much!” Connor beamed. The last two weeks of developing and building the dating calculator had paid off quite well. Not only was Philip pleased with the work, but he’d done something that could be useful on missions, which helped him feel a little less guilty for all the time he’d been spending away from the others lately.
He loved his new lab space—messy as it was with piles of paper and random electronic bits lying around—but it seemed to have given Philip a sort of standing invitation. Almost every day, like clockwork, he’d come by when things were starting to wind down, and keep Connor there for another hour, often more, grilling Connor about his opinions on the anomalies, and chatting about concepts for possible future projects.
While he was in those conversations, it was all too easy to lose track of time. The part of his brain that kept up with the world outside his lab seemed to shut down, and all he could do was brainstorm on matters of tech and physics. Sometimes, however, the conversations turned personal.
“I suppose one of these days, I’ll need to find a way to reconstruct Cutter’s prediction model. I remember a fair amount of the data about it, and Sarah left behind a lot of her notes. It’s just a matter of putting the pieces back together again, I think. I wish we still had the artefact or at least one of the opening devices. I could reverse-engineer them, and maybe come up with something again.” He sighed heavily. “So much work was lost, though. Helen…” he trailed off, wincing.
“Cutter meant quite a lot to you, didn’t he?” Philip asked gently.
Connor looked up, meeting Philip’s eyes and, thankfully, seeing only kindness there. “Yes, he did. It really made a difference for me that he gave me a chance, and believed in me. All that stuff out there,” he gestured in the general direction of the Hub, “that would never have happened if he hadn’t trusted me to do it. I would never have done it on my own without him.”
“Well, I’m glad he was there for you then,” Philip said. “Being able to detect and lock the anomalies before major creature incursions happen is a really big deal. You know, the rest of the team gets due credit for being able to track down and contain the creatures. But really, Connor, you’ve likely saved more lives than all of them combined with just the work you’ve done.”
Connor blinked. He’d never thought of it that way. He’d always got so much flak from the rest of the team for his nerdy ways—from Stephen’s barely contained snark to Jenny’s initial dismissal of the detector to Becker and even Abby occasionally rolling their eyes at him. So often on missions he’d felt small next to them. He was the one who’d taken forever to learn how to properly handle a gun. The one who always had to improvise a way to take down a creature, since traditional combat was beyond him. The one whose clumsiness and occasional bad judgment sometimes led to disastrous consequences. Yet now, Philip’s words suddenly changed his perspective. “Wow,” he said, almost to himself. “I guess that’s probably true.”
Philip draped an arm around his shoulders. “It is true, Connor. Remember how I said you’re wasted in the field? There’s honestly no sense in you trying to keep up with the rest of them. They’re all about the creatures and all about battle strategy. That’s not you. That’s not what you’re best at.”
“Oh, I dunno.” Connor grinned cheekily. “I had a pretty high-level character in World of Warcraft.”
Philip smiled tightly. “Indeed. And, I’m sure you’ve learned quite a lot about all this with your years on the team—and certainly with your time in the past. It’s not just Abby who kept you two safe, I’m sure.”
“Right,” Connor agreed, chest swelling a little with pride.
“But think about all the time you’re wasting out there—probably even getting in their way sometimes—when you could instead be back here working on ways to deal with the anomalies in the first place, instead of just day-to-day creature management. The field team treats the symptoms. You’re the one who’ll find the cure.” He squeezed Connor’s shoulders.
Connor leaned into the touch, mind racing at what Philip was telling him. It was all falling into place, now, and he was surprised that it had taken so long to realise it. He set his jaw, a little upset. Why hadn’t any of the others ever supported him like this? Why didn’t even Abby give him more credit for the very real hard work he’d been doing all this time?
It had been far too long since he felt this way. For a moment, he heard Cutter’s voice in his head, the strength of trust and confidence in him that led him to pass the torch when he… All that support had died with him, and he’d been bereft ever since. But now? Maybe, just maybe. He looked up, meeting Philip’s steady gaze. “Thank you, Philip. That means a lot to me.”
Philip smiled, and gave him one last squeeze, letting his hand trail down over Connor’s back as he pulled away. “You’re quite welcome. I only want you to live up to your potential, you know. And really, there's so very much of it there.” His hand rested for just a moment on Connor’s lower back, and then disappeared. Connor found he missed the contact.
His phone, sat on the work table in front of him, jangled, startling him out of the reverie. The screen lit up, identifying Abby. “Oh! I should… Yeah, I should take this.” He squirmed a little, almost embarrassed for Philip to see him bending to her call so readily.
“Of course. I’m sorry I’ve kept you late again. Do give Abby my best, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Philip turned and sauntered out, waving.
“Will do. Thanks again.” Connor smiled.
“My pleasure, Connor. Always.” The door shut behind him.
Connor picked up the phone, but he was too late—the call had gone to voicemail. “Oh,” he muttered. “Well, nevermind.” Grabbing his jacket, he prepared to head off and get home himself—he’d call her on the way.
Halfway out the door, however, he remembered something. The housing for the calculator; Philip had suggested he switch it out to titanium.
Dropping his jacket, he turned back to his work.
--End--
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Connor/Philip pre-slash, with Abby/Connor references, and a hint of Connor/Nick.
Story: Tech Support
Rating: PG
Warnings/Spoilers: Set shortly before 4x07, with late series 4 references. Creepy predatory behavior on Philip's part.
Author's Note: In my A/B/C universe, but no Becker references.
Summary: Connor’s settled into his work for Philip, and it’s now paying off: He’s made something useful. Philip’s quite pleased with him, and the praise goes to Connor’s head…
Tech Support
“Well, Connor. I think this is very nice indeed. Will be interested to see what happens when it’s got a proper field test.” Philip smiled, and patted Connor’s shoulder.
“Thanks very much!” Connor beamed. The last two weeks of developing and building the dating calculator had paid off quite well. Not only was Philip pleased with the work, but he’d done something that could be useful on missions, which helped him feel a little less guilty for all the time he’d been spending away from the others lately.
He loved his new lab space—messy as it was with piles of paper and random electronic bits lying around—but it seemed to have given Philip a sort of standing invitation. Almost every day, like clockwork, he’d come by when things were starting to wind down, and keep Connor there for another hour, often more, grilling Connor about his opinions on the anomalies, and chatting about concepts for possible future projects.
While he was in those conversations, it was all too easy to lose track of time. The part of his brain that kept up with the world outside his lab seemed to shut down, and all he could do was brainstorm on matters of tech and physics. Sometimes, however, the conversations turned personal.
“I suppose one of these days, I’ll need to find a way to reconstruct Cutter’s prediction model. I remember a fair amount of the data about it, and Sarah left behind a lot of her notes. It’s just a matter of putting the pieces back together again, I think. I wish we still had the artefact or at least one of the opening devices. I could reverse-engineer them, and maybe come up with something again.” He sighed heavily. “So much work was lost, though. Helen…” he trailed off, wincing.
“Cutter meant quite a lot to you, didn’t he?” Philip asked gently.
Connor looked up, meeting Philip’s eyes and, thankfully, seeing only kindness there. “Yes, he did. It really made a difference for me that he gave me a chance, and believed in me. All that stuff out there,” he gestured in the general direction of the Hub, “that would never have happened if he hadn’t trusted me to do it. I would never have done it on my own without him.”
“Well, I’m glad he was there for you then,” Philip said. “Being able to detect and lock the anomalies before major creature incursions happen is a really big deal. You know, the rest of the team gets due credit for being able to track down and contain the creatures. But really, Connor, you’ve likely saved more lives than all of them combined with just the work you’ve done.”
Connor blinked. He’d never thought of it that way. He’d always got so much flak from the rest of the team for his nerdy ways—from Stephen’s barely contained snark to Jenny’s initial dismissal of the detector to Becker and even Abby occasionally rolling their eyes at him. So often on missions he’d felt small next to them. He was the one who’d taken forever to learn how to properly handle a gun. The one who always had to improvise a way to take down a creature, since traditional combat was beyond him. The one whose clumsiness and occasional bad judgment sometimes led to disastrous consequences. Yet now, Philip’s words suddenly changed his perspective. “Wow,” he said, almost to himself. “I guess that’s probably true.”
Philip draped an arm around his shoulders. “It is true, Connor. Remember how I said you’re wasted in the field? There’s honestly no sense in you trying to keep up with the rest of them. They’re all about the creatures and all about battle strategy. That’s not you. That’s not what you’re best at.”
“Oh, I dunno.” Connor grinned cheekily. “I had a pretty high-level character in World of Warcraft.”
Philip smiled tightly. “Indeed. And, I’m sure you’ve learned quite a lot about all this with your years on the team—and certainly with your time in the past. It’s not just Abby who kept you two safe, I’m sure.”
“Right,” Connor agreed, chest swelling a little with pride.
“But think about all the time you’re wasting out there—probably even getting in their way sometimes—when you could instead be back here working on ways to deal with the anomalies in the first place, instead of just day-to-day creature management. The field team treats the symptoms. You’re the one who’ll find the cure.” He squeezed Connor’s shoulders.
Connor leaned into the touch, mind racing at what Philip was telling him. It was all falling into place, now, and he was surprised that it had taken so long to realise it. He set his jaw, a little upset. Why hadn’t any of the others ever supported him like this? Why didn’t even Abby give him more credit for the very real hard work he’d been doing all this time?
It had been far too long since he felt this way. For a moment, he heard Cutter’s voice in his head, the strength of trust and confidence in him that led him to pass the torch when he… All that support had died with him, and he’d been bereft ever since. But now? Maybe, just maybe. He looked up, meeting Philip’s steady gaze. “Thank you, Philip. That means a lot to me.”
Philip smiled, and gave him one last squeeze, letting his hand trail down over Connor’s back as he pulled away. “You’re quite welcome. I only want you to live up to your potential, you know. And really, there's so very much of it there.” His hand rested for just a moment on Connor’s lower back, and then disappeared. Connor found he missed the contact.
His phone, sat on the work table in front of him, jangled, startling him out of the reverie. The screen lit up, identifying Abby. “Oh! I should… Yeah, I should take this.” He squirmed a little, almost embarrassed for Philip to see him bending to her call so readily.
“Of course. I’m sorry I’ve kept you late again. Do give Abby my best, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Philip turned and sauntered out, waving.
“Will do. Thanks again.” Connor smiled.
“My pleasure, Connor. Always.” The door shut behind him.
Connor picked up the phone, but he was too late—the call had gone to voicemail. “Oh,” he muttered. “Well, nevermind.” Grabbing his jacket, he prepared to head off and get home himself—he’d call her on the way.
Halfway out the door, however, he remembered something. The housing for the calculator; Philip had suggested he switch it out to titanium.
Dropping his jacket, he turned back to his work.
--End--