1: Allergy
"I almost killed my boyfriend," Connor moaned in agony, head buried in his arms on the kitchen table.
"It wasn't your fault, Conn," Stephen soothed, rubbing his thigh where he'd injected himself with the EpiPen he kept stashed in the kitchen drawer for this very purpose. He'd have to take his antihistamines later, too, once the adrenalin had worn off. The itching had already stopped, and the redness was going away too.
But that did nothing to comfort the distraught geek that was now thumping his forehead against the tabletop, mumbling something unintelligible and probably self-degrading. Stephen reached out and placed one hand on the table so Connor's forehead met his palm rather than the wood. "Stop that."
"I almost killed you, Stephen!"
"No, you did not. It was a mild reaction, Conn, and it wasn't your fault. I should've told you I was allergic to fennel before you started cooking. Besides, it's only a mild allergy. Some swelling and a bit of a rash, that's all. No problem."
"Yeah, but—"
"If you say one more thing about almost killing me, I'll kill you."
Connor glanced back into the kitchen, then let out a mournful sigh. "Well...supper's pretty much nixed. Takeaway?"
Stephen smiled, ruffling his hair. "That's better. I know a great Chinese place that delivers. We'll make dinner again tomorrow." It was too easy. "Without the attempted murder."
"Stephen...!"
2: Tickle
"Dammit, Sid!" Stephen cursed, landing on his arse after tripping over one of Connor's hapless diictodons; the offending creature hastily scurried away.
"Don't yell at him like that. He gnaws when he gets anxious," Connor scolded as he came up behind Stephen. He leant down and slid both hands under his arms to help him up when Stephen let out a peculiar strangled noise and wriggled away. "What?"
"Nothing, I'm just...sensitive there."
"You're…you're ticklish?" Connor asked in disbelief, staring at him with a look of shock, like he couldn't imagine that Stephen would ever have a vulnerability like being ticklish.
"Yeah, I am," Stephen replied, then glanced up at his boyfriend. He swallowed hard, seeing the mischievous glint in Connor's eyes, a wicked smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "No. Connor. No. I'm serious," he warned, scooting away.
Connor began to advance on him, grinning like the Cheshire cat now.
"Don't you dare, Connor Temple. I'm serious. Don't you even—" He was cut off with a strangled yelp as the geek sprang on him, but his help just as quickly became hoarse, gasping laughter as Connor's clever, wriggling, squiggling fingers wormed their way under his arms. "Connor! Stop it! Conn—"
In a matter of seconds, two fully grown men were reduced to two kids, twisting and rolling around on the floor, trying to tickle each other into submission. Stephen's rougher, rustier laugh mingled with Connor's bright burbling, the sound making his flat feel brighter than it had in a long time.
God, Connor loved this man.
3: Giggle
They'd been playing poker for the past three hours, though in all honesty, the game could've ended two hours ago, if Stephen wasn't so bloody competitive. He simply refused to accept that, despite all his awkwardness and peculiarity, Connor had a better poker game than him. His pile of chips had dwindled down to almost nothing, contributing to the geek's ever-growing amount. Stephen now owed him sixty quid, a trip to Comic-Con, and the latest Doctor Who series, extended edition. But he had the geek now. He knew he did. "Alright, Temple, last hand. Last bet, winner takes all, got it?" he said, jabbing one finger at the other man.
Connor lifted one eyebrow, a remarkably Spock-ish expression, both a query and a rebuke at the same time. "Alright, then, Hart. Your bet," he agreed.
"Loser has to volunteer to help Abby clean out the mammoth enclosure for a week."
"Sounds excellent."
"And has to do both our paperwork the rest of the month."
Connor only smiled. Cocky bastard. "Even more excellent."
Stephen smirked, laying his cards on the table in front of him. "Straight in diamonds, Temple. Grab a shovel and head down to the menagerie," he laughed as Connor's face fell.
"Hell. You're good, Stephen. I'll give you that," he said, but then the tracker's heart sank as the geek grinned wickedly. "Just not quite good enough. In Her Majesty's honour, a royal flush," he announced, turning his hand so Stephen could look at the cards.
As the hunter groaned in agony, Connor burst out in laughter, sweeping his winnings towards him with one arm. "Ha! That's what you get for betting against me, Stephen! Never bet against the Emperor, Darth."
Stephen's head lifted as he stared at the younger man. "Did you...did you just call me Darth Vader?" he asked.
"Um...maybe?"
Stephen managed to keep a straight face for about all of three seconds before he burst out in high-pitched, hysterical giggles, sounding more like a schoolboy talking to his first crush than a grown man. He wrapped both arms around his middle as he giggled, the sound so unexpected and uncharacteristic of him that Connor couldn't help but laugh with him, the two of them dissolving into hysterics, game forgotten.
They'd have to play poker more often.
4: Taste
"You've got to be kidding me, Stephen! Really?"
Stephen didn't look up from where he was setting out the crisps and dip, nodding. "Yep."
"This?"
The tracker straightened up and turned to look at the geek, staring at the films Stephen handed him with a look akin to pain on his face, like someone was shoving bamboo splinters under his fingernails or pulling teeth without anaesthetics. "Yes, Connor, this. I watched all three Matrix movies with you last Saturday, now it's my turn to pick," he answered.
Connor shook his head. "Forget the creatures. You're gonna kill me before they do."
Smiling, Stephen grasped Connor's hips and pulled him in closer, sliding his arms around the slender waist as he came near. "Remember last Saturday, though? You gave me quite an impressive reward for my patience, sitting through the Matrix. What makes you think I won't return the favour now?" he asked, ducking his head to lightly nuzzle at Connor's throat, just nipping at his pulse point.
"Well...yeah, alright, fair point, but Stephen..." Connor held up the film cases he still held in one hand, a pained look on his face. "Quentin Tarantino?"
5: Cuddle
Stephen was a hopeless cuddler.
Connor thought that he liked to snuggle in bed, but Stephen was a bloody limpet. They might fall asleep on the opposite sides of the bed; by morning, the hunter will have squirmed his way over to Connor's side and wrapped his limbs around Connor. As cool and aloof as he might act in waking life, as soon as he was asleep, Stephen turned into the snuggle monster. Connor was never cold in bed, because he had his own living space heater that draped itself across him every night. But it was nice. It felt bloody fabulous, actually, to wake up with Stephen's legs twined around his, strong arms banded around his waist, large hands spread possessively across his skin, with his face buried into Connor's shoulder or in his hair. Knowing that he was wanted and loved, that was a feeling Connor had never got to experience before.
Sunlight slanted across the bed, casting peculiar patterns of shadow and light on the rumpled covers, and Connor woke to the feeling of having a large, warm body curled around his. Smiling, he snuggled back against Stephen, savouring how well they fit, like puzzle pieces that went together.
The tracker twitched slightly, then yawned, making Connor giggle at the warm tickle of breath on his ear. The older man burrowed his face into the crook of Connor's shoulder. "Morning."
"Mornin'," he mumbled back. It was one of their rare days off, and Connor had already taken the liberty of turning off their mobiles; today, the dinosaurs would have to wait. "So, Mr. Hart...what were you thinking about doing today? We've got the whole day to ourselves."
Stephen huffed lightly, resting his chin on Connor's shoulder. "Hmm. Good question. I think I've got the answer, though." He grabbed the edge of the duvet, yanked it up over them, and settled himself a bit more comfortably. His arms rested snugly around Connor, one hand curled around his hip, the other splayed across his side, and their legs were tangled together so it was difficult to tell where he ended and Connor began. He burrowed his face into the soft, overlong black hair, voice muffled as he declared, "We could just stay here the rest of the day, the hell with everything else."
The younger man smiled, tipping his head back to kiss him. "Sounds like a plan to me."