Title : The Late Shift
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 12
Characters : Lester/Jess
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : Lester isn’t the only one working late.

Lester leaned back in his chair, uncomfortably aware of a headache building behind his eyes.

He’d almost reached the end of the emails that had spent the last hour crowding into his inbox like enthusiastic supporters into a football stadium, all clamouring for his attention. Five more to go and he could finally call it a day, or should that be a night?

He glanced at the clock.

9.15pm.

Not quite the latest he’d been at his desk over the Christmas period, but it was late enough after an equally long session in the office the previous day. He was tired, and the drive back to his flat didn’t hold much appeal, so he’d probably make use of one of the company flats again. They were spartan, but comfortable enough at a pinch.

The last few emails wouldn’t take too long. He had to send a draft budget to the bean counters in Marsham Street, revise a couple of risk assessments and read through some CVs in the search for a new lab technician. The rest could wait until the following day.

Lester opened the first email and started to compose a reply. He’d spent several hours that morning working on the first draft of the anomaly project’s budget for the coming year. The lack of financial backing from Burton had put something of a dent in their spending capacity but with the anomalies public knowledge now, the government couldn’t be seen to be pinching too many pennies where public safety was concerned, so the odds were on his side for a change in the coming battle.

Five minutes later, he attached the draft proposals to the email and pressed send. The risk assessments didn’t take too long to deal with. Everything they did carried an unacceptable risk, but the field teams mitigated those as best they could and if the pen-pushers in Health and Safety didn’t like it, they could hardly close them down. The eyes of the world were now on their project and other countries were using them as a model on which to base their own rapid response teams, although there were some who’d just gone for the military solution.

If the late, unlamented Mrs Cutter’s aim had only been fractionally better, her husband would be turning in his grave. But as it was, he was currently in the US, arguing with a Senate Committee on the subject of appropriate responses to the anomalies. If they had any sense, they’d just agree with him. That was usually the quickest way of getting Cutter to shut up.

Lester had been following the irascible academic’s progress via a series of badly punctuated emails as well as erratically spelled and occasionally wholly unintelligible text messages. Lester made a mental note to ask Jess to turn off the predictive text on the wretched man’s phone when she next had the chance. It did not improve the quality of his communications.

After another ten minutes work, Lester was about to close his computer down when a high priority mail landed in his inbox.

To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Hot Chocolate

There’s one waiting for you out here.

Jess

Lester glanced up and saw Jess looking at him from her work station, a bright smile on her face. He hadn’t even realised she was still there. The idea of a hot chocolate was very welcome. Jess’ addiction to chocolate in all its forms (with the exception of orange, of course) meant that she’d raised the making of a hot chocolate to a dark art, and refused to divulge her secrets.

He closed down his email, word processing programme and the various spreadsheets he’d been working on. It was now 10.30 and he was officially knackered.

“What on earth are you still doing here?” he asked, as he walked down the steps into the command centre, smiling to take any sting out of his words.

“I had some system upgrades to run,” she said, returning his smile. “It’s easier to stay overnight when I’m doing that.” She gestured to a large mug of hot chocolate. “That’ll help you sleep.”

He wrapped his hands around the mug and took and appreciative sniff. There was something more than chocolate, milk and cream in this one. He took a sip, savouring the rich flavour then smiled again. She’d laced it with cognac. Just what he needed at the end of a long day.

Jess smiled brightly at him, watching approvingly as he loosened his tie, made himself comfortable in a spare chair at her workstation and proceeded to enjoy the hot chocolate. It tasted like liquid heaven and he told her so.

“You’re an angel,” Lester said. “Have I ever told you that before?”

She gave the matter some thought. “Yes, last Tuesday, when I found the document that you’d accidentally deleted.” She thought some more. “And a few weeks ago when I hacked the minister’s email and deleted the one you’d sent that said he had a face like a bulldog that had just had a jalapeño pepper stuck up its arse and the intellect and self-control of a spoiled two-year-old that hadn’t yet mastered the art of potty training.”

“Not one of my more tactful moments,” Lester admitted.

“It could have been worse, you could have hit ‘reply all’.”

“That would definitely have been worse.” Lester finished the hot chocolate and leaned back in the chair. “I take you for granted, don’t I, Jess?”

If her smile was fractionally less bright than before, only a trained observer would have noticed. But James Peregrine Lester was very definitely a trained observer.

“No, you don’t.”

“Miss Parker, you’re a terrible liar.” Lester leaned forward and rested one hand lightly on hers. “I’m old enough to be your father. I’m carrying more baggage than a 40-seater coach and I am utterly abysmal at being nice to people. I forget birthdays and anniversaries and I spend too long in the office.”

Jess flashed him a smile that could have competed with one of the soldiers’ rifle-mounted torches for brightness. “I’m great at remembering birthdays and stuff. And I spend too long in the office as well.” She turned her hand in his and closed her fingers around his, stroking her thumb over his knuckles. “And I really don’t care how old you are. There’s a 23 year age difference between my parents. If anyone will understand, it’s them.”

Lester smiled ruefully. “Have I been behaving like an idiot?”

Jess stood up, closed the distance between them and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

“Yes, but it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

He took her gently into his arms and drew her down onto his lap. “Can I rely on you to sanitise the CCTV footage tomorrow?”

The kiss she gave him was answer enough.