Disclaimer: "Jurassic Park" and all subject matter affiliated with it (such as characters) is the property of Michael Crichton and Universal Studios. I simply took their good idea and jumped to conclusions!
Lucky Strap
"Thank you so much Dr. Grant for your time." The women shook hands with the man on stage and signaled for the audience to begin exiting the theatre. The varied clapping did no justice to the amount of people who actually comprised the group of listeners, but it showed that many were dissatisfied with the lecture they had just attended.
Alan Grant knew the theatre's seats were completely sold out for his lecture due to his reputation as a respected and highly valued paleontologist. There was also the slight possibility that this number was related to the events taking place three years prior. Having witnessed InGen's monstrous creations on Isla Nublar in the flesh, more commonly referred to as "Jurassic Park," Alan was a prime target for gawking students and desperate reporters. He would love to think that the latter was not true, but it was hard to convince himself of that when every raised hand in the crowd disappeared at his closing statement. In that one line, he had clearly stated that in no way would he answer questions concerning the island, the "dinosaurs" InGen had manufactured, or anything even negligibly related to John Hammond.
The woman standing to his left asked if he wanted to join her for a drink off campus, promising him a good time if he answered in the affirmative. She was notably attractive, and Alan entertained the thought of her company briefly before deciding it was not in his best interest. He smiled and cordially declined, ensuring himself an evening alone in his hotel suite. Without the University's sponsorship, he wouldn't even have that.
The large hall was almost empty now as people crowded the exits. A sea of red upholstery stretched before Alan, somehow more intimidating now then when it had been filled with upturned faces. He knew this was the after effects of eight espressos and the all-nighter he pulled flying in from Montana. Everything changed after one no longer had caffeine and adrenaline pumping through their system.
Alan was tired and disappointed with life, a familiar end to any lecture he agreed to perform. He wished to be back in Montana at the dig site, busy working on excavating what he had previously found fascinating mysteries. The lecture circuit had never interested him much, though the money he gained from it kept the struggling professor from unemployment. Alan had decided long ago that he would do whatever it took to remain one of the few paleontologists running their own dig site. Answering tedious questions about Jurassic Park rather than his actual studies was one of those things.
The stage lights went dark, signaling that the theatre was closing. It was apparent that Alan had lingered too long in an attempt to regain some composure and would now have to find his way to the glowing red "Exit" signs in the dark. Obviously, no one had thought to check the theatre for stragglers, or simply had not seen the one man standing onstage under the direct illumination of floodlights. Both were possible as he had just spent the past two hours in front of an uninterested audience whose fingernail debris seemed more gripping on their attention than his lecture. Alan was also admittedly bitter after several years of the same routine, it was taxing to realize just how used he really was.
Groping for the metal pipe that ran alongside the stage stairs, Alan managed to make his way off the raised platform without serious injury. Of course, there was mild profanity when he reached the bottom without realizing and anticipated another step. The sickening feeling of unexpected level ground beneath his forward foot amplified Alan's grief and added a bottle of whiskey to his evening's plans.
As he made his way to the center aisle, or what he hoped was the center aisle, Alan was stalled by something that had gotten caught on his foot. Unable to release the appendage from its hold, he bent down to retrieve the object and found himself holding a long leather strap. The strap, which was consequently attached to a bag, was barely visible in the darkness, but Alan thought there was writing on the band. Rather than give his prescription a run for its money, he slowly stumbled towards the theatre's doors and out into the sunny parking lot.
Momentarily blinded, Alan blinked profusely at the writing once more before finally managing to read it.
"William Brennan." He spoke the name out loud, as if it would conjure the man to his side at once. It stuck in his memory, sounding semi-familiar. This was probably due to its generic nature; most likely belonging to several people he had met on his rare excursions into the academic realm. Alan figured, by the worn state the bag he held, that whoever William Brennan was, it was important to him. He looked around at the campus buildings and wondered where a lost-and-found might be located. He began walking towards the closest brick complex when someone shouted.
The single syllable, "hey," was enough to tell Alan that the person shouting was not another professor. He turned to look in the direction of the noise, only to find its source speeding towards him. A young and impossibly good-looking man now stood before Alan, panting and smiling in a way that did nothing to help Alan's disconcertion. He silently thanked his previous decision to decline the woman's advances as the man standing before him now seemed a far-more interesting subject for appraisal.
"You found my bag!" William Brennan said through his laboured breathing. Alan nodded surreptitiously, and presented it to the man without question as to his identity. By the tone of relief in his voice and the way he was now clutching it delicately in his arms, Alan could tell that this bag was inexplicably important to him.
After a brief analysis of his bag, William Brennan looked up into the face of its saviour. Alan witnessed the shock and instant reddening of that face as their eyes met, and wondered what had caused the sudden change in demeanour. The shocked "o" of the man's mouth quickly turned into an even wider grin as he gave Alan a once-over.
"Dr. Grant, I did not expect you." There was an intensely pleased expression now garnering William Brennan's face, but Alan was suddenly wary. The bag, he now noticed, was a camera bag. William Brennan could easily be a reporter, and that meant questions. Hell, he was a person, and that was enough to merit curiosity about Alan's experiences three years ago. William Brennan offered his hand to shake and introduced himself, properly.
"Billy Brennan," he said as Alan took the proffered hand. Since he didn't answer immediately, Billy continued, "I'm in my last year studying evolutionary biology. I was at your lecture." He said this all matter-of-factly and was seemingly calm about the encounter. However, Alan could tell Billy's composure was not as cool as he pretended. The hand he shook was sweaty from nerves and there was still a tinge of red in his cheeks.
"I hope it didn't bore you too much," Alan said smiling, though still not convinced of the man's intentions. He admitted to being slightly paranoid to possible media attacks, but after the hundreds of publications bringing negative attention to his character, Alan figured he had reason to be. Billy, who was still shaking his hand, responded to the comment by scoffing.
"God no! I've been waiting forever to hear you speak." The words seemed genuine and Alan felt unanticipated warmth in the pit of his stomach at the implied compliment. "I came from Boston on the morning train in order to be here for it."
Alan felt the slight smile on his face broaden. "And you even smuggled a camera into the theatre just for the occasion, I'm flattered." Alan realized too late that his attraction stretched beyond normal first impressions. Was he flirting with this man? Alan hoped not, as Billy could only be twenty-three, possibly younger. Something reminded him that he was not supposed to flirt with men young enough to be his student; his conscience perhaps? Though Alan was trying to stifle his interest in Billy Brennan, the young man himself seemed aware and willing to participate in the flirtation. In fact, the comment Alan had just made was enough to breach Billy's casual façade and the attractive blush broke out once more.
"I wanted to document the experience," he said with a shrug. "Besides, I take my camera everywhere." Alan's eyebrow raised and he could not stop himself from the teasing comment that followed this action.
"Except when you leave it underneath theatre chairs as a tripping hazard for nearsighted people?"
"Is that how you found it?" Billy laughed, a nice sounding laugh, and grimaced apologetically, "Sorry, I wasn't thinking straight with all those people crowding me; my least favourite part of your lecture. I'm just glad no one broke it, this camera cost more than my school tuition fee."
"Although, you've obviously gotten long-life out of that bag you carry it in, or did I somehow manage to do that from my one interaction with it?" Alan joked; again, silently berating himself for continuing the conversation. Continuing meant a conscious effort of pursuing the young man until one of them finally suggested a more intimate environment. It seemed funny to Alan, him being a relatively sensible man, that he should turn down the attractive, professional, and not to mention age-appropriate female from just minutes before. The unappealing notion of a one-night stand was loosing its argument once pitted against the young man facing him.
The bag Alan had just mentioned looked like it had seen better days, torn and dirty with a hint of duct tape. He made a mental note to wash his hands once back at his hotel room; although he might not have a chance to if his encounter with Billy evolved. Alan's thoughts of mild disgust concerning the bag must have showed on his face as Billy suddenly laughed.
"It is rather decrepit," he agreed, gesturing to it. "I've had this bag for forever, but I can't bring myself to get rid of it." Billy shook his head at his own sentimentality.
"Well, one thing's for sure," Alan stated. "It's lucky I tripped on that strap and found it, or else…" He trailed off. Alan had expected to finish that sentence with, "you might not have gotten it back." Instead, the only thought registering in his mind was that, if not for the dilapidated bag, Billy and he would not be currently conversing. Alan, now flustered, finished the comment with a cough and a muttered something, he wasn't quite sure what.
"Listen," Billy said, moving forward a little, "Thanks for tripping on it." He made a face, and then apologised. "I mean, for finding it." Almost as an afterthought, he added, "Though, I think you may have had some divine intervention while walking past that chair."
"Pardon?" Alan asked, pleasantly confused by what Billy had just said.
"One of the reasons I keep this bag is because it's lucky," he said, as if it were the natural conclusion to his previous comment.
"Or at least the strap is," Alan supplemented. Billy smiled at this, his eyes never leaving Alan's. Their closeness had an intense aura, making both parties short of breath. Alan, who was slightly taller, tried to look over the other's head for his rented car, the only escape route. Once their eye contact was broken, it was easier to think about how very wrong this was, and how very much he just didn't care.
Alan reflected on the situation momentarily, preparing himself to bluntly present the question. It was obvious that there was an attraction, so why couldn't he just ask Billy if he wanted to go for a drink? Laden it with innuendo? Billy however, seemed to be the more proactive and somehow even more blunt of the two, not willing to wait for Alan's inner conflict to resolve itself.
"Can I come to your place?" So simple. So effective.
With that, Alan knew he had lost any self-control that might have saved him. They proceeded to the car and somehow made it to the hotel suite Alan had been graciously provided with. Billy appeared completely at ease as they drove, whereas Alan could hardly control his rapid heartbeat.
Once in the elevator, Billy's nerves began to show. Alan monitored him out the corner of his eye, noting the blush returning to his cheeks. Yet that same, self-assured smile remained a constant. Alan admired that, it made him feel less guilty for what they were about to do.
The elevator stopped on the seventh floor and 'dinged' their departure. It was mere seconds before they were inside the seclusion of his room, and the match was struck. Like wildfire, the two met in the entrance hall and consumed each other. It really couldn't be stopped, Alan realized.
Billy dropped the camera somewhere and proceeded pulling open Alan's shirt. It would forever remain a mystery to him how exactly they managed to get naked. Both were so reluctant to separate that there was not enough space between bodies for undressing. It was also pure coincidence that they ended up on the bed, as Alan could only remember falling backwards with Billy in desperation.
Apart from their giddy laughter and the need to breath, their mouths never left skin. It was feverish and fanatical; Alan completely shocked that he had not done this in over a year, Billy obviously needing it as much as he did.
Alan decided as Billy licked the contours of his chest, that he had no regrets for this night. It was the 'divine intervention' of a lucky strap, and his reward for all the day's strife. The young man, now positioned near his naval, ignited everything he touched; Alan's skin burned with the remnant feeling of Billy's tongue. He sighed contentedly as conscious thought slipped away; nothing else registering in Alan's mind after Billy had met his intended destination.
******
Alan rested his head on the downy pillow, his breathing slow and contented. Billy lay sprawled out beside him, snoring lightly in his unassuming sleep. He watched the younger man through a mild stupor, and sighed with resignation. He had to admit that Billy was beautiful, and Alan was luckier than even that camera bag he'd tripped on yesterday.
Morning light glinted on the hotel windows and red digital numbers blinked at him from the bedside alarm clock. Alan did not want Billy to wake; it would ruin the perfection of their time together. He was reminded why he had avoided sleeping with strangers; it provided an awkward morning-after. Nevertheless, the young man stirred as sunlight illuminated his face, and Billy's eyes opened lazily.
Choosing to cling to the moment, Alan propped himself up on one arm and tentatively stroked the other's cheek. This action registered in his minds as so much more intimate than anything else they had done, and he drew the hand back slowly. Somehow, last night had seemed like a different couple, not him and Billy tangled in desire. He wished that they could be suspended in that desire once more, comfortably numb to the outside world and the awkwardness of being strangers.
Billy reached his own hand forward and caught Alan's, pulling it back. Though just awake, Billy was able to smile with reassurance for Alan, and enable their moment to continue. White sheets wrapped around their bodies once more, and for a few seconds, their lips reunited with prose.
The phone rang abruptly, making Billy jump and Alan sigh with hatred for Alexander Graham Bell and all his disciples. He knew that it would be an important call as only his colleagues had this number. Billy, who was lying on top of him now, courteously picked up the phone for Alan and rolled off. He reluctantly took the receiver and muttered a rude greeting. The voice that answered furthered his frustration.
"Grant? My god, you sound like hell!" The rough voice of his lawyer, Richard Astin, exploded through the soft silence Alan had become accustomed to that morning. Richard was his financial aid and consultant, which was the only reason Alan did not break the handset in cold blood. He responded to the comment with a grunt, not willing to be hospitable with such a cruel disruption.
"What were you up to last night; lectures don't usually take so much out of you?" Billy, who could hear the loud static voice coming from the phone, laughed and got out of bed. Alan was quite prepared to follow him, but was interrupted by Richard's enthusiastic tones.
"Well, you dog! I heard that; you're not alone, are you?" He sounded like this news made him extremely happy, frighteningly so. "So, who is she? An avid fan? A hooker, I didn't think you were the type."
"Listen Richard, why are you calling me?" Alan was quite frankly disgusted by the other man, and not only because he was a lawyer. He did not want to have this conversation with anyone, least of all him.
"You're a private man, I can understand that. Fine, I'm calling about those applications for the summer dig." Richard said in a much more subdued tone. It seemed he was disappointed with Alan's decision not to divulge private information about his sex-life. "I need to know how many students your taking on this year so I can work out an estimate in required funds."
"The internship?" Alan asked, he had completely forgotten. "Why do need that now?" While Richard explained the urgency for his call, Alan was distracted by the other man in the room with him. Billy was making coffee in the small corner of the suite that acted as a kitchen. Apparently, he had not been bothered to get dressed and so was naked for the process. Alan appreciated this, unaware that he was staring.
"Grant? GRANT? Are you still there?" Richard, who was an impatient man by nature, could not stand the silence on the other end of the phone. Alan snapped back into focus, tearing his eyes from Billy's rear.
"Uh, yeah, sure," he said distractedly. "I'll send the papers to you today." Richard began to talk rapidly, again trying to raise the subject of Alan's mystery guest. Alan just hung up the phone. The coffee was ready and being served by a wonderfully unclothed Billy.
"I don't know what you like in yours, so I left it black." These were the first words either of them had spoken to each other since last night. Alan took the steaming cup with thanks, downing it immediately. Billy stared at him, bug-eyed; he had not meant for the scalding hot liquid to be ingested quite so soon. Alan coughed, but remained still.
"I burnt my throat out long ago," he explained as Billy cautiously sipped his own coffee. He made a face immediately afterward and set the dish down on the counter.
"Still too hot for me." Alan did not fully agree with this statement as he thought Billy was exceptionally hot, but kept this thought to himself. He too, got off the bed and reached for his robe. It was red and blue plaid; something that Billy apparently found funny, because he laughed. Alan decided Billy was a strange young man and contented himself with raising an eyebrow.
"Is everything you own plaid?" Billy asked, gesturing to the suitcase Alan had retrieved the robe from. It was true that both the shirts present there, and the one now lying on the floor from his haphazard de-clothing the previous night, were some form of plaid.
"It would appear so," Alan said, trying to mentally search through his entire wardrobe. It seemed he could not remember a single article that did not fit the description of plaid, except for pants and jackets. If he dressed completely in plaid, Alan mused, he'd look like a slipper.
Billy was now searching for his own garments, only able to find a pair of jeans looking distinctly more creased then when he had seen them the day before. He wiggled into them awkwardly, Alan looked away to give him privacy and to hide the broad smile on his face.
"You said you live in Boston?" he asked, a lame attempt at conversation. Billy seemed to know what Alan was trying to do and smiled as well. He finally found his shirt and shrugged it on.
"You don't have to say anything, Alan." It had a profound affect on him to hear his name said by the other man. He felt like the younger, less experienced party in this situation, and perhaps he was. This was obviously not Billy's first morning-after, and Alan found himself relieved to be let off the hook. At the same time, he wanted to talk to the other man and learn more about him. He found Billy extremely intriguing.
Billy ran his fingers through his already unkempt hair, looking around the room for anything else that belonged to him. Alan noticed for the first time that he was wearing socks, meaning that he had never taken them off. Funny.
They sat at the counter a while in silence, not pressed to fill it with idle chatter. Alan was surprised that it did not take desire to cocoon them from reason, Billy's secret smile and his own relaxed exhalations were enough.
He poured himself another cup of coffee and let the steam rise over him. It seemed cleansing, and Billy watched with curious absorption. When their eyes met across the counter, Alan sighed. He knew this would have to end eventually, and Billy should not have to be the one to initiate the goodbye. As if reading his thoughts, the younger man became reserved and gazed at his hands.
"I have some, uh, work to do," Alan said. Billy looked up, and then away again quickly. Alan was unsure what to say next, and regretted speaking at all. He tried lamely to rectify the mistake. "Do you want something to eat, or…" he trailed off; there was no 'or.'
"I have to go buy a train ticket, and study for exams," Billy said reluctantly. He shook his head. "I don't want…I'm not that hungry." There was a sudden shyness about him that Alan had not anticipated. This was the man who had been parading around in front of him making coffee in the nude. The erratic changes in his behaviour were confusing to say the least. Alan did not know how to react to this man.
Alan showed Billy to the suite's door and waited at its threshold. Through the morning-after awkwardness, he felt reluctant to let the other man leave. Their time together had been refreshing and exhilarating, though completely wrong in every sense of the word; he had to remind himself of that. Alan prepared himself to speak, perhaps stall the young man's retreat, when Billy leaned forward. Their lips met in a simple kiss. There was a sentimentality in it that Alan was not familiar with, at least, not since his days with Ellie.
Billy smiled at him as a farewell, and used their proximity to slip something into Alan's robe pocket. He spoke softly, almost a whisper, before turning away from the door.
"Just in case."
Alan toyed with the idea of pulling him back, but found himself closing the door before the thought had fully formed. The previous night was all it had promised to be, and nothing more could come from their interactions. They were too different in both age and manner to form any basis of a relationship.
The cup of coffee Billy had left steaming on the kitchen counter was now cool enough for the average person to drink. Alan grabbed it with a little more vengeance than was really required and spilt some on his chest. This made him remember Billy's mysterious actions before departing and brought his focus to the small sheet of paper now wet in the robe's pocket. He carefully unfolded the pulpy remnants of it and read the scribbled numbers it provided; Billy's phone number in Boston.
Alan sighed with bemused relief. Knowing that there was a possibility of a reunion gave him a kind of strange peace. The work he had used as justification for Billy's early exit would provide the additional peace Alan needed to keep from dwelling on the sudden emptiness of the suite.
He quickly cleaned up the spilt coffee on the countertop and brought his notes out for perusal. Several minutes later, it became evident that cleaning the counter served no purpose as he choked on a mouthful of coffee and was forced to expel it onto the papers laid out in front of him. His choking was a direct result of fate's trickery in the realm of human relations.
The summer internship he offered grad students always brought some interesting applicants, and Alan tried to remember that he needed their help to keep his systems up-to-date and the dig site operational, but it was complicated hiring so many inexperienced workers. Having already reviewed the current year's applications once before, he finally realized why the name "William Brennan" had sounded familiar upon reading it the previous afternoon.
Alan, surprised to be holding Billy's personal information and resume, as well as the possibility of his future employment, did not know whether to feel amused or angry with the young man. Seduction in order to attain a job was not an unfamiliar concept to Alan, but he had not believed Billy to be that type of person. Then again, he himself was a slave to the billionaires who sponsored him, albeit he had never used sex to his advantage.
There was a possibility that their sleeping together was due to a genuine attraction from both involved parties, but Alan did not have the optimistic mindset to consider this at first. He just shook his head disappointedly and shuffled the wet pages around the counter in order to lay down several sheets of super-absorbent paper towel.
Out of curiosity, Alan picked up Billy's application and reviewed the information presented upon it. He remembered being impressed by the applicant's credentials and probably would have hired William Brennan even without the bonus of seduction. He became bitter, and thought to perhaps hire the next best student in spite. This idea was short-lived as his mind returned to that kiss by the door.
Billy hadn't seemed like the business-oriented person who was willing to use every advantage in his power to progress in his preferred profession. Besides, how much drama could the career choice of paleontology provide? Alan looked at the contact information listed on Billy's resume, and compared it to the phone number he had left him. It was consistent.
Alan baked in his inner turmoil; trying to decide whether the events of last night had been pre-ordained by the attractive male whom he had become so interested in, or was it a chance meeting that resulted in a mutual attraction and the consequential sex. While thinking, his eyes moved around the room idly. They caught on something black; contrasting with the white armchair it rested upon. He approached the object with mild apprehension, fairly sure of its origins.
The object, Billy's camera bag, hung limply in his arms as Alan held it out for inspection. He examined the worn strap that carried Billy's name and thought back to their first conversation.
"Lucky strap…" Alan whispered thoughtfully. It seemed a farfetched notion to think that Billy had purposefully left the case in the theatre for Alan to find, and that their meeting was anything more than a coincidence. Billy's forgetfulness seemed an endearing idiosyncrasy rather than a planned seduction tactic.
Alan decided in the one moment it took to pick up the bag that he did not care what the truth happened to be. His night with the younger man had been, quite frankly, fantastic, and that Billy was more than qualified for the internship. He smiled at the thought of having Billy at his beck and call for two months in the deserts of Montana. He hoped Billy didn't mind tents.
Carrying the camera bag over to the stool where he had previously been seated, Alan reached for the cordless phone positioned across from him. Rather than look at the much neater printed phone number on the application, he reviewed the blotchy numerals Billy had scribbled on the ripped corner of Alan's lecture brochure. He dialed anxiously, but was not surprised when the answering machine sounded and requested for him to leave his message after the beep. Billy would still be in transit.
Alan shifted a little on his stool and waited for the tone. It sounded and he found he suddenly knew exactly what to say, returning to the light teasing tone he had used in their first conversation.
"Good morning Mr. Brennan, this is Alan Grant calling. Due to certain events concerning your explicit nudity, I regret to inform you that your application for my summer work internship was compromised. However, your actions during said nudity proved more than agreeable and I feel you would be a valuable asset to my unit in Montana. Your credentials were also somewhat impressive and have honourable mention in my decision to hire you." Alan was grinning from ear to ear as he spoke into the receiver, hardly able to contain his laughter. He found himself picturing the man's face when receiving this message, hoping that he could somehow witness the attractive blush creeping up the man's neck and cheeks.
"Please feel free to contact me with any questions or concerns; especially if you are unsure as to my lucidity during the making of this phone call, I got absolutely no sleep last night." He paused to look down at his feet, the black object innocently resting against the stool's leg. "And Billy," Alan added while lifting up the bag by its most imperative part, "you forgot your camera at my place."