A/N: Written for fandom stocking. Could be sort of vaguely Nick/Lester, if you squint.

Off-Kilter

Nick stomped into Lester's office, not bothering to knock and speaking before Lester had even raised his head. "It's about time, where have you been? I need-" Nick stopped and actually looked at Lester, who was looking rather… bedraggled was a good word. Or else completely awful, that worked too. His normally impeccable suit was crumpled, the tie loose like he'd done up the knot in a hurry, and his hair was falling a little into his face.

And that was without mentioning the apparent injury. "Bloody hell, what happened to you?"

Lester pinched the bridge of his nose. "That would be the twit who pushed my car off the road. Rest assured that he'll be hearing from my lawyer."

Nick stepped closer. "You look like you should be in hospital, have you been to hospital?" Well, probably that had been a stupid question. The head wound looked far too professionally handled for Lester to have done it on his own.

Although, Nick wouldn't put perfect first aid past Lester, come to think of it. He was likely full of hidden talents and certainly good at faking it, at the very least.

"As I, fortunately, am not an idiot, yes, I have been. They released me."

Nick highly doubted it had been so simple as that, but decided to save his arguing for better things. He certainly had no shortage of disagreements with Lester. "You couldn't stop home for a change first?" The man had to be concussed, there was no other explanation for Lester allowing everyone in the ARC to see him in such a state.

"No time. I am expecting an important call and I have a spare suit on the premises."

"Course you do," Nick said, rolling his eyes. Lester probably had a back-up for the back-up.

Lester arched one eyebrow, though the effect was somewhat lessened by the bandage on his head. "If you don't keep a change of clothes in the ARC, you're even more idiotic than I thought."

"That's really not the issue here."

"I fail to see that there is indeed an issue, particularly not one that involves you."

"Lester, are you concussed? You shouldn't be at work." Nick noticed what appeared to be some sort of wrist splint or brace poking out of Lester's sleeve and couldn't help the way he moved forward, nor the way he grabbed for Lester's arm.

Lester, of course, pulled away immediately, scowling. "That still counts as harassment, you know. I could have you written up."

"Yeah, add it to the list. Did you sprain your wrist? Did you break it?" This time Nick was too fast and got hold of Lester's arm, sliding up the sleeve and cradling Lester's wrist gently.

"It's a sprain, if you must know. Please release me as I assure you that you are the last person I would like to hold hands with."

Nick didn't let go and he honestly couldn't have said why. "You're hurt," he said, rather inanely.

Lester pursed his lips. "Yes, we've established that already. I was in a car accident, or has that fact escaped you? Perhaps it's you who has concussion, or perhaps you've been at the scotch too heavily."

"Why don't you just go home?" For some reason, this all felt terribly important. Lester wasn't supposed to be injured, he was supposed to sit here behind his desk, infallible and perfect. Nick felt like the world had tilted while he wasn't paying attention, everything falling out of order.

Though the state of his office might offer evidence to the contrary, Nick actually didn't mind a bit of order.

"Cutter, if I didn't know any better, I'd think this was some kind of frightful attempt at concern."

Nick realised he was stroking Lester's fingers where they poked out of the brace. He stopped. He opened his mouth to say something, which was when Lorraine's voice rang out over the intercom.

"Sir, the Home Secretary's on line one."

"Thank you, Ms Wickes," Lester said, jerking his head towards the door in an unmistakable dismissal.

Frankly, Nick was grateful, as he was fairly certain he had been about to say something appalling. He made his way to the door, managing to get one last word in before Lester took the call that was apparently more important than his health. "I'll be expecting that sexual harassment charge; try and make it good reading, will you? I could use the entertainment."

Lester made a face at him but was unable to make the snarky reply he no doubt was dying to make, as he instead had to greet the Home Secretary.

Nick smiled to himself and walked out of the door. Maybe everything was falling into place after all.

End