Title:- Job Hunting
Author:- Bella
Characters:- Nick/Stephen
Rating:- PG-13
Warnings:- Slash
Spoilers:- None
A/N:- Un'Beta'ed, mistakes are my own.
Job Hunting
Professor Nick Cutter sat slumped in his office, passing a hand over weary eyes. This was pointless. Long, pointless and exasperating. It hadn't even been his bloody idea. In his opinion, he did NOT need a research assistant/lab technician to help him. He was coping just fine. But apparently the Faculty Dean had other ideas. He had set up a date and told Nick that on the 11th April he WOULD be hiring someone, whether he liked it or not.
Nick had protested, badgered, even flirted a little, but this time the Dean had made up his mind. And as a result, Nick was sitting, exhausted in his office, after a day of seeing off a whole host of interviewees, who ranged from being big-headed, irritating, slimy, geeky, flirty, stupid, and, if he was honest, just plain ugly. As Nick saw it, he didn't want an assistant and if he had to have one, they might as well be easy on the eye.
And now it was finally the end of the day, Nick had one more person to see, who, looking over his CV, didn't really appear to have the academic qualifications needed, and had so far failed to interview anybody who he could see working for him without the need for murder. It was rather depressing, and he briefly wondered when he had become so cynical.
Nick glanced at the clock, ten past three. Candidate number 17 was late. An excellent start. Nick wondered briefly if the Dean would accept 'ten minutes late' as a reason for not choosing a Mr Stephen Hart. Seconds later, Nick stopped thinking at all, as the door swung open to emit a tall, well-built young man, with ridiculously blue-eyes, and artfully tousled, just-got-out-of-bed hair. He moved across the room with an easy stride and settled himself into the chair opposite Nick. Cool, composed and confident. He hadn't even bothered to knock.
Swiftly realising he was staring; Nick jerked himself back to reality. Swallowing hard, he raised his eyes to meet those of Stephen Hart. Pale blue eyes met cornflower blue, and Stephen smiled. Apparently aware of the effect he was having.
'Aren't you going to ask me any questions?'
Nick blinked. The accent surprised him. Middle-class English; it made him sound more a hell of a lot more intellectual than he looked. Pondering this, he suddenly registered that he'd been asked a question. Pulling himself together, he made a brief show of shuffling through his notes, and then looked up again.
'To start with, I'd just like to know what qualifications you have. A-levels, degree etc.'
'A-levels in Earth Science, zoology, and geology, and, er, no degree as such, I'm still a student.'
'Still a student??'
Nick instantly felt like some kind of lecherous old man.
'Took 3 years off to see the world, and now I'm back at university.'
Oh. That made more sense. Nick mentally slapped himself. It didn't matter anyway. Thinking about this man like that was unprofessional in the extreme.
'Does it matter?'
Apparently Stephen was on the same wave-length as him.
'No.' Nick stated firmly. 'Not in the slightest.'
Amusement danced in the blue eyes. It was almost hypnotic.
'How experienced are you?'
Nick realised that the question wasn't going to come out right, but it left his mouth before he could stop it. Stephen's face took on an expression that was part way between amusement and surprise. Nick resisted the urge to wince.
'I meant in...work...nothing like that..unive..'
Nick was cut off mid-sentence by Stephen's lips closing over his own. The world spun into oblivion, the only things he was aware of were the warmth of Stephen's hands on his shoulders, and the sensations of his mouth.
He tasted amazing, of coffee, and fresh air, and of an underlying flavour that Nick presumed was just him. Stephen deepened the kiss slightly, allowing his hands to trail down Nick's sides, as far as their awkward angle would permit. Nick moaned, as one hand moved down across his chest and flicked at a nipple. He could feel Stephen's smile against his lips, as the younger man pulled back slightly.
Nick felt like his brain had taken a holiday. Frozen, heart thumping, breathing fast, he felt like a teenager all over again. He swallowed, not entirely sure what to do now. Stephen was clearly waiting for him to make the next move. In the end, he took the only option presented to him. Clearing his throat, in a voice about an octave higher than usual, and much more heavily accented, he said,
'The job is yours.'