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moonlettuceTitle: Pool Hall Evenings
Author: Claire
Fandom: Primeval
Pairing: Nick/Stephen
Rating: PG
Word Count: 449
Summary: In which Abby and Stephen aren't pool hustlers...
Notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aithine's request on my drabble-type things post.
"I call Nick!" The words were out of Connor's mouth before Abby had even finished asking if the others fancied a game of pool.
"I guess that leaves me with you, then." Abby smirked at Stephen, as she nicked a quid off him for the table.
"Connor, I'm not so sure about this." Nick hesitated before picking up his pint and following Connor towards the back of the bar where Abby was busy racking up the balls on the slightly grotty pool table.
"Are you kidding? I saw you how you played against Ryan last week. You totally kicked his arse." Connor grinned. "Seriously, Professor, they won't know what hit them."
~
Abby leaned over the pool table, her shirt riding up slightly to reveal a patch of skin across her back. Slowly sliding the cue across her hand, she carefully nudged the cue ball.
"Game to us, I think," Stephen grinned as the eight ball rolled smoothly into the corner pocket.
Connor just stared at them. "You-- you hustlers."
Stephen glanced over to where Abby was putting her cue back on the stand. "I think Connor's just cast aspersions on us."
"It's not aspersions if it's true!" Connor exclaimed.
"Conn, did either of us say we couldn't play pool?" Abby asked.
"Well, no," Connor replied.
"Therefore, not hustlers," Abby declared. "Now, I believe the comment before you broke was losers have to do whatever the winners want, yes?"
Connor's eyes were wide. "That was just a joke."
Abby grinned as she advanced on him. "No, it wasn't. Now, come on, the flat needs tidying, there's a sink full of dishes and and I've got some stuff that needs ironing. And since I was one of the winners and you were one of the losers, guess who gets to do it."
Nick looked over at Stephen as Abby dragged Connor out of the pub. "And what were you thinking of making me do? Is there a pile of ironing at yours, as well? Or maybe you want me to scrub your floors?"
Stephen just smiled and Nick felt his face flush as Stephen's gaze travelled up and down his body. "Oh, no, Nick, no floor scrubbing of any sort," Stephen said, as he walked closer, leaning in to Nick's space as he put his cue back. "You'll still be on your knees, though, if you want to be," he murmured, leaving Nick standing there as he walked out of the pub, glancing back over his shoulder and raising an eyebrow in question.
And Nick put the cue he was still holding on the pool table, grabbed his jacket and followed him out.
Author: Claire
Fandom: Primeval
Pairing: Nick/Stephen
Rating: PG
Word Count: 449
Summary: In which Abby and Stephen aren't pool hustlers...
Notes: Written for
aithine's request on my drabble-type things post."I call Nick!" The words were out of Connor's mouth before Abby had even finished asking if the others fancied a game of pool.
"I guess that leaves me with you, then." Abby smirked at Stephen, as she nicked a quid off him for the table.
"Connor, I'm not so sure about this." Nick hesitated before picking up his pint and following Connor towards the back of the bar where Abby was busy racking up the balls on the slightly grotty pool table.
"Are you kidding? I saw you how you played against Ryan last week. You totally kicked his arse." Connor grinned. "Seriously, Professor, they won't know what hit them."
~
Abby leaned over the pool table, her shirt riding up slightly to reveal a patch of skin across her back. Slowly sliding the cue across her hand, she carefully nudged the cue ball.
"Game to us, I think," Stephen grinned as the eight ball rolled smoothly into the corner pocket.
Connor just stared at them. "You-- you hustlers."
Stephen glanced over to where Abby was putting her cue back on the stand. "I think Connor's just cast aspersions on us."
"It's not aspersions if it's true!" Connor exclaimed.
"Conn, did either of us say we couldn't play pool?" Abby asked.
"Well, no," Connor replied.
"Therefore, not hustlers," Abby declared. "Now, I believe the comment before you broke was losers have to do whatever the winners want, yes?"
Connor's eyes were wide. "That was just a joke."
Abby grinned as she advanced on him. "No, it wasn't. Now, come on, the flat needs tidying, there's a sink full of dishes and and I've got some stuff that needs ironing. And since I was one of the winners and you were one of the losers, guess who gets to do it."
Nick looked over at Stephen as Abby dragged Connor out of the pub. "And what were you thinking of making me do? Is there a pile of ironing at yours, as well? Or maybe you want me to scrub your floors?"
Stephen just smiled and Nick felt his face flush as Stephen's gaze travelled up and down his body. "Oh, no, Nick, no floor scrubbing of any sort," Stephen said, as he walked closer, leaning in to Nick's space as he put his cue back. "You'll still be on your knees, though, if you want to be," he murmured, leaving Nick standing there as he walked out of the pub, glancing back over his shoulder and raising an eyebrow in question.
And Nick put the cue he was still holding on the pool table, grabbed his jacket and followed him out.
