In which Ryan is impatient and all-knowing in turns, a strange Welsh man makes an appearance (I offer a cloned character of your choice if you can tell me who he is...) and I get even more carried away with Wet!Stephen and may possibly need therapy. Thank you so much to katewantstobecomeanactor, gaia-x-goddess, and the (ever-awesome) Xanthiae, for the reviews, and to the lovely people who favourited/alerted. You maketh my day.

Part 2

Two hours later, every even vaguely lustful thought had completely fled from Connor's mind as the team stood on a large area of grassy plain, staring dismally at a distant black dot that was circling in ever increasing circles and occasionally shrieking its displeasure at the current climate. The rain had stopped a few minutes ago, but it was grey, overcast, and fairly chilly. A typical British spring really, but the pterodactyl appeared most unsatisfied.

After the creature had erupted from the anomaly, with what could be described as the best and worst timing in the world (best because it had saved Connor from a completely surreal and seriously embarrassing situation and worst because said completely surreal and seriously embarrassing situation had been the hottest thing he had experienced for a long time, if ever), and it had taken the team under a minute to figure out that they needed to catch it now, a conclusion that was only confirmed when a sucking sound rang through the air and the anomaly closed. It also hadn't taken a genius to work out that they had about as much chance of catching a flying dinosaur from a forest as they did of resurrecting Elvis, and so when Abby mentioned a large area of open grass a few miles to the North, they had wasted no time in packing up the equipment and setting off.

After about an hour of trudging through the forest in the rain, they had emerged onto said grassy plain. Peering through a pair of binoculars, it had taken Stephen no time at all to locate the flying reptile, soaring high over their heads, and getting worryingly close to a housing estate that they knew all too well was fairly close by. They had to catch the dinosaur, and fast.

Unfortunately, this was easier said than done, and after an hour and a half of trying every method they could think of, from waving Connor's red waistcoat around (it had worked for the pteranodon…), to lying sandwiches out on a rock in plain view (perhaps it might be hungry…), tranquilising it ('Bloody thing won't stop moving' 'Yes, Stephen, that's what they do'…), and finally hiding in bushes and just being very very still (this had been met by many eye rolls but no-one else had had a better idea…) But nothing worked. The pterodactyl refused to land.

So now, they were just standing in a little huddle, and praying for inspiration. On the plus side, everyone was drying out somewhat, and this was excellent news for Connor's libido, although Stephen's hair was now drying into the bed-head hair tufts, and the Professor's wasn't in much better nick but that was a minor enough detail that he could easily ignore it. Well…he could ignore it if he just didn't look at either of them.

'Why don't we just shoot the fucking thing?'

Captain Ryan, never the most patient of men when it came to indulging Cutter and his 'take 'em alive' method, had clearly had enough. Cutter let out a long suffering sigh.

'Because we don' know what tha' might do. Killing one a' these creatures could change the…'

'Path of evolution, I know. But we need to come up with something else that winged lizard is going to reach the housing estate and give some old dear in her garden a very nasty surprise.'

Cutter's face brightened. Was it inspiration?

'I'll ring Claudia. Mebbe she'll have an idea.'

Inspiration? Don't get him wrong, Connor thought Claudia was lovely, but she was a Civil Servant. How was that going to help them tempt a pterodactyl?

Clearly Stephen was thinking along the same lines.

'What good's that going to do, Cutter?'

'I know she isn't qualified, but another head cannae do any harm can it?' Cutter did dignify Stephen with a reply, but he was already turned away and half way through dialling whilst he answered.

And if Connor wasn't very much mistaken, Stephen's mouth had tightened imperceptibly at the corners, and really, who would even have thought that the endlessly composed Stephen Hart would ever feel emotions such as jealously and possessiveness? Apparently, he was capable of just as many human emotions as the rest of them when it involved a scruffy, freckled, Scottish Zoology Professor with an attitude attached. (Connor's inner voice was also pointing out that he must be studying Stephen really closely to have noticed said almost imperceptible tightening of mouth, but he summoned up another little inner voice to sit on it).

'Really?'…Mhmmm…Yeah…Okay…Well we'll give it a go. Yeah. Thanks…See you later'

The moment passed as Nick hung up the phone and turned back towards the group.

'Do we have a plan?' Ryan clearly had lost all patience now.

Nick grinned.

'We have a plan.'

There was a pause, while they all looked at him expectantly. Nick rubbed a hand over his chin.

'Does anyone…does anyone have any barbecue sauce?'

Silence.

'Um, what?' Connor thought he might as well voice what everyone else was obviously thinking. Nick smiled ruefully.

'Claudia has a friend, Welsh bloke apparently, an' he says that the only way to catch a pterodactyl is to use barbecue sauce. She says he swears by it.'

An idea struck Connor.

'Hang on, hang on a sec!' He routed through his pack, until he found what he was looking for, and brandished the bottle in the air in triumph.

'I've got chocolate sauce!'

Stephen's eyebrows shot up.

'The first question that springs to mind, Connor, is why?'

'I like it on my sandwiches sometimes.'

Stephen shook his head.

'Okay then.' He turned to Nick. 'Question is, will it work?'

Nick shrugged.

'No idea. But I doubt it. I mean, pterodactyls are carnivores. So unless this one has an abnormally sweet tooth…'

Time to defend his honour.

'But it can't hurt to try, right? I mean, it's either that or ring Lester and ask him to send us a consignment of barbecue sauce, and I really don't think he be happy to commission that.'

Nick shrugged again. Connor ignored how this movement made his t-shirt hitch up at the bottom, revealing several inches of skin. He also ignored Stephen's sudden grin.

'It can never hurt to try.'

And that was how, four hours and an awful lot of drama later, they were piling back into two cars, with the chocolate-drunk pterodactyl strapped to a trailer and heading for the Home Office.

'What,' enquired Abby, 'are we going to do with a pterodactyl? I'm not taking him home.'

Nick grinned.

'It's sorted. Apparently Claudia's Welsh friend has a boss who specialises in unusual creatures. Said he'd take him off our hands.'

'And we are going to just trust this man?'

Nick shrugged.

'If Claudia does it's enough for me.'

Ah, thought Connor, those lines appeared around Stephen's mouth again. It hadn't been a coincidence - he really did not like Claudia. He squashed the sudden urge to hug Stephen. Never thought he'd say it, but, he was almost…sweet when looking all sulky and jealous. He appeared five seconds away from full-on pouting. And Connor really didn't think he needed to see that. He had a horrible feeling that Stephen pouting may turn out to be, quite literally, irresistible.

The rest of the journey was spent in silence, and, as Abby was driving, was also over relatively quickly, and with one or two near-death experiences. At the Home Office they were met by a tall, dark-haired man who was wearing a neat suit complete with tie pin, and a large black SUV. They detached the trailer, and reattached it, and that was the end of the pterodactyl saga. Really, Connor thought, if only it was always that simple.

By this time, they were all weary, and achy, and desperately in need of a hot shower and some caffeine. Most of them were still slightly damp, all of them were covered in smudges of chocolate sauce, and Connor was covered in mud into the bargain, having tripped over Ryan's foot in a slightly clumsy moment and ended up in a ditch. (Where he'd remained for the best part of five minutes until the soldier stopped laughing long enough to pull him out).

As a result, they trooped into the Home Office, slipped past Lester's office as quietly as humanely possible, and headed straight for the shower room. Connor walked at the back of the group, just behind Stephen, and was forced to avert his eyes when they went up what felt like the longest flight of stairs in history, because otherwise he might just turn into a teenage fangirl and swoon. Matters were not helped when Stephen, casually (although Connor had his suspicions), idly hooked his thumbs into the back pockets of his jeans, allowing Connor the perfect opportunity to not only study his long, graceful fingers, but to imagine how they might feel touching him.

By the time they had reached the shower rooms, Connor was feeling extremely hot and bothered, and his suspicions about Stephen were confirmed when the older man turned around and smiled at him, all blue eyes and innocence, holding the door open, which forced Connor to pass by him in uncomfortable proximity.

Luckily, the showers weren't communal, and Connor thanked the Powers That Be for that small mercy. But sadly his mind was still handcuffed to the gutter, and as he slipped under the hot spray, he felt himself tense instead of relax, as he heard Stephen moan as he did the same in the cubical next to him. Matters were not helped at all when this was followed by a distinctly Scottish sounding 'Ahhh' as Nick took possession of the cubicle on the other side.

Connor was by himself, in a private cubicle, but he felt completely and utterly surrounded. The bastards.

He exhaled hard, and tried to get a grip on himself. This was ridiculous. Ignoring his body's protests he turned the shower down to only luke-warm.

There was the crack of some-one stretching a joint, and a slight moan of satisfaction from Stephen's cubicle. God. Connor's mind began supplying images of wet Stephen again. Except this time it was naked, slippery, wet Stephen, stretching, hair slicked back, long fingers smoothing over his chest, lathering the soap, pausing over his nipples, pinching slightly…

Shaking his head forcefully, Connor could feel himself blushing. Jesus, he was turning into a real pervert. This was his colleague he was fantasising about. Just then, he heard the click of a shower door, and the slam of a locker. Ryan's voice echoed through the room.

'I'm leaving now, Hart, Professor. Don't torture Temple too much. We need him.'

The door slammed. Holy shit. Ryan. Ryan. Ryan knew what was going on. Connor could feel himself getting redder and harder in tandem. He spun the temperature dial to cold. God this entire thing was a nightmare. A horribly kinky, attractive nightmare. He couldn't decide if he wanted to wake up or not, and tried to focus on the crumb of comfort he was gaining from things cannot get any worse.

Could they?