"How the fuck do we end up in these situations?"

How indeed. Chin deep in cold, dirty and - most significantly - slowly rising water, with a metal grate above us neither of us could shift and a mile or so of water-filled tunnels below us that we didn't have the energy to swim through.

We were going to die, and we both knew it.

And all this, unsurprisingly, had started off harmlessly enough; an afternoon stroll through the drainage tunnels under the city, in search of a darkness, damp-dwelling creature our one witness had described as 'like a big mole, with water wings'. Connor's 'artistic impression' drawing hadn't helped, looking more like Secret Squirrel than anything from past or future ages.

It was Nick's idea to come looking, always preferring to be out doing something, anything, rather than to be stuck back at the ARC. I swear he loved the place when we first moved in, acted like a teenager with his first car. It was one hell of a toy for him to play with. But since the incident with the… thing from the future and his jaunt with Helen through the anomaly that had got Ryan killed, he'd been almost a different person. From what he'd said, from what Connor had let on, maybe he really was.

Whatever, this wasn't the time to start thinking about that. It was too much of a mind-fuck to deal with at the best of times which this definitely wasn't.

I'd agreed to go with him - don't ask me why because although I knew precisely the reason I agreed I won't ever admit to it. He was going to go anyway, and as his idea of arming himself is to make sure the battery in his torch is working, I told Lester I'd make sure he came back in one piece. Now and again I seriously think that man does actually care.

It was too bad that the automatic rifle I took with us wasn't effective against a rising tide. Nick's torch had, ironically, turned out to be more use if only to illuminate the futility of our situation. A slow rise in water levels might have had us running for the closest exit, but the level hadn't risen slowly, the water had gushed in from what we could only assume was a freshly opened anomaly with a point of origin under a massive flowing body of water. The tunnels were suddenly flooded and we pushed off our feet, overwhelmed by the strength of it.

We were both strong swimmers but we weren't strong enough to withstand the force and the pressure of it. We weren't even strong enough to stay afloat and I barely managed to snatch a grip on Nick's jacket sleeve before we were being washed through the wide tunnels, taking desperate breaths whenever our heads emerged above the water, choking as we took in mouthfuls of the stuff. It was like being hit by a lorry doing a hundred miles an hour, like almost drowning over and over again and grasping at every glimmer of hope. My eyes stung, my threat burned and my lungs were on fire.

Finally the rush had subsided but the level had remained and swimming up we'd found ourselves at the end of a tunnel in a wide pipe with a grate at the top, above the rest of the system but not by much.

That had been over an hour ago. Hands gripping the rusty metal grate above us, holding on, the water at our shoulders, we'd shouted for help until we were hoarse. We could see light a long way above wherever we were trapped but couldn't make out anything else, couldn't work out what was surrounding the grate, whether it was wide open space or closed, sheer walls - a warehouse or a well. Not that it mattered, the grate wasn't budging. Realisation had taken a long time to sink in, and when it finally had, when we'd stopped shouting for help which plainly wasn't coming, we looked at one another and had the strangest of conversations. Which Nick - of course - started.

"It's not sea water, no salt."

And for some reason, God only knew what, I joined in with, "A reservoir maybe, or a river?"

"Not powerful enough, whatever was on the other side of that anomaly the force behind it was incredible."

"Why didn't anything living come through with it?"

"Maybe it did. It just hasn't found us yet."

Not a particularly comforting thought. "Or maybe it's small - fish or insects. Not everything that lived in the past was twenty feet long with scales and teeth."

"I guess it depends if whatever's on the other side is land-locked or not, depends what life can be sustained."

"Bigger the body of water, bigger the life living within it. Although I suppose an anomaly could have formed from somewhere else and deposited something not originating -" I trailed off. He was staring at me, and seconds later we both burst into laughter, not even the hysterical kind, just pure, joyous laughter. We were working out the new 2008 edition of The Origin of the Species, trapped, soaking wet and dying. Thinking about it, perhaps there was a certain amount of hysteria to it after all, because as it died away to leave us breathless, Nick's smile stayed in place even as he said,

"We're going to die, Stephen."

I nodded, sobered. "I know."

Not that I wanted to and neither - I thought, hoped - did he, but we didn't have much choice. We couldn't swim for it - there was nowhere to go. We'd been washed along for what had felt like miles, bashed and battered against the curved brick walls of the tunnels. Where we'd come up was only slightly higher than the ceiling of the tunnel system and that meant that the whole way back was flooded. I'd even swum down, taken a look, gone as far as I'd been able then returned to Nick to shake my head, lost for words right at that moment. He'd just accepted my assessment of the situation. And when I'd felt the water lapping at the underneath of my chin I knew we really were in trouble.

"Water's still rising," I pointed out, my turn to state the entirely bloody obvious.

"I know. We might be able to get our mouths to the grate, breath in the air above us if we're above ground level rather than in the base of a chamber. But how long before we lose the strength to tread water like this? Hypothermia won't take too long to settle in, even in two fit, healthy males like us. We're gonners, Stephen, and I'm so, so sorry." As sudden as the tide had hit us, his tone changed from abstract fact to emotion-filled sorrow in the space of a comma.

"Don't." I shook my head, chin dipping beneath the water. "This isn't your fault, I chose to come with you."

"You wouldn't be here if I hadn't insisted on coming."

"Then it would have been another anomaly, another time. Something with sharp teeth and a newly-formed appetite for humans."

"Better than drowning." There were tears in his eyes, regret in his voice and that was more painful to see and hear than the pain of burning muscles and slowly numbing skin.

"Don't do this, Nick, please. We all know how dangerous the job is, we all signed up willingly. Lester didn't hold a gun to your head, you didn't hold one to mine."

Nick's mouth opened to speak but he closed it again, squeezing his eyes closed, dirty water touching his lips now. Not thinking clearly, or that's what I told myself afterwards, I lifted my head slightly, tilted it, and kissed the salty tears from his lidded eyes.

As I backed up, blue iris' shot through with blood locked with mine and before I had time to feed him some lie, he dropped a hand from the grate above us and curled it around the back of my head, pulling me forward again, his mouth pressing hard to mine for a single second before his lips parted and his tongue slid over mine, easy when I was open-mouthed with shock.

It might have been a surprise but I wasn't about to let him regret it for a single moment. Freeing up a hand, I threaded my fingers through his wet hair, lifting it into spikes, head to one side to give him better access, tongue battling to get into his mouth. I'm sure I tasted as bad as Nick did, the dirt from the water on our lips, in our mouths, I know I felt as chilled as he did, but it didn't matter.

There was an edge of hysteria in this too, shivering against one another, aching, cramped fingers holding us afloat, legs barely kicking any longer. Still - or more likely because of it all - it was an incredible kiss. One that ended too soon. And when it did we both found ourselves having to tilt our faces upwards slightly to keep our mouths out of the water.

"I think I slept with the wrong Cutter," I joked, half an apology worming its way into the words. I'd never actually said sorry even though I was.

Nick laughed, closed in and I felt his mouth on my jaw. Closing my eyes I enjoyed what I'd definitely missed out on. Taking a deep breath I turned my head and met his mouth again.

A wave of water from beneath us swept us upwards, pushed the crowns of our heads against the grate and we broke from one another to find that the last of the air was gone, the water was covering us, covering the metal bars.

No panic.

No fear.

A strange acceptance.

Before my throat closed up and sheer terror tore through me.




The first breath back was more painful than anything I'd ever experienced, white-hot fire soaring through my lungs, up my throat. I was turned onto my side, hands on my shoulder and hip, distant voices - some talking, some shouting. I tried breathing again, coughed hard, brought up a mouthful of water but managed to get some air into my aching lungs. Christ, I'd never felt anything like it. But pain - even this searing agony - meant I was still alive.

Nick.

I forced my eyes open, tried to blink away the stinging at the same time as I tried to lift my head to look for Nick.

"Easy, Stephen," Abby's voice, her hand on my head, pushing it back to the ground or whatever the hell I was lying. Talking apparently wasn't an option right at that moment although God knows I tried. So again I attempted to look around, and out of the corner of my eye, away to the left of us, Connor was pressing down on Nick's chest, counting to himself in thousands, pausing for Jenny to give mouth-to-mouth between her saying his name over and over, calling him back.

A sudden flashback to Nick's kiss almost stole my breath again - so real I could feel his hair between my fingers. I tried to call out to him too but the only sound I seemed capable of making resembled some pre-historic whale. Abby said something to me about everything being all right but it wasn't. I tried again to speak, and when something approximating a word got out I craned my head back until I could see him properly. "Nick - please… don't die. Don't you dare fucking leave me!"

One one-thousand. Two one-thousand. Three one-thousand….

With difficulty I stretched one arm up and back, muscles screaming their protest as I blindly cast about until I found a wet, freezing hand and grabbed onto it. It was heavy but I lifted it, wrapped my fingers around it, stroked the palm with my thumb. Willing him back.

…four one-thousand. Breathe.

Pinching Nick's nose, Jenny leaned over him, sealed her mouth over his. And a second later Nick's body jerked, gripped by a single convulsion, before he was coughing violently - trying to breathe in at the same time his lungs were trying to get water out. Connor rolled him onto this side and he spluttered up what had made it into his lungs before his windpipe had closed. He got a moment's respite before he retched, making a sound like a wounded animal as he vomited up everything that was in his stomach. I tightened my grip on his hand and he gripped mine right back with surprising strength in numb fingers.

I could feel him trembling, felt the tension in him as his stomach heaved again, the last of the filthy water coming up. Jenny's hand was on his shoulder, I could hear the reassurances she was murmuring to him. All I could do was hold his hand, assure us both we were alive. We'd made it. We weren't going to die today. The laughter bubbled up from somewhere deep inside me, two close-to-hysterical gurgles, then it was my turn to throw up, all the filth I'd swallowed as I'd drowned. It hurt like hell and I curled onto my side, spitting out the water and the dirt. Abby's hand stroked my hair as she told me the medics were on their way, we just had to hold on. Nick's hand gripping mine was all the reassurance I needed. We could hold on. We had done so far.


#


I hit the mattress hard, reached up and made a grab for Nick as he followed me down.

"There's nothing like sex to celebrate being alive." Accent thick, voice throaty, his murmur alone into my ear made me painfully hard while at the same time, somehow, making me laugh out loud until the next thing I knew I was drowning in a breathless, open-mouthed kiss.

He tasted incredible, of coffee and hob knobs, liquorice and just… of him. His lips were warm, his body vibrant, cock hard. Clothing was shed in a graceless fumble of hands and legs, kicked off the bed as we freed ourselves from the material trappings.

Nick's hands split themselves between my neck and my dick, dragging my mouth over his while his fingers did filthy things to my balls. He nibbled my bottom lip, slipped his tongue over mine, kissed me long and hard. Finally I broke away from him, desperate to see his face - eyes hard, wide, lips swollen, cheeks red, he stared at me with such a wanton lust I couldn't for a second convince myself this was the same Professor I'd worked beside for all the years, and I saw the truth in what I'd said to him earlier - I really had slept with the wrong Cutter.

Holding myself up on one hand I swept my palm over his hair and hoped I could put half of what he was making me feel into my eyes; just like the way he was looking at me.

'Love' wasn't even close; it felt like worship and I was more than willing to let him.

Suddenly his arm knocked out my elbow, unbalancing me, rolling me over, dumping me on my back and following me, stealing a brief kiss before rising to his knees over me, straddling my thighs, grinning wickedly and swallowing my erection to the back of his throat.

The groan tore itself free, my hands hovering above his head. He looked up at me, growled at me, and I broke apart, fingers dropping to claw into his hair, forcing him down on me, fucking his throat because I knew it was what he wanted from me, maybe what he needed. I knew I'd pay for it, knew this animalistic need wouldn't stop at a mind-bending blowjob. But as his tongue and throat worked my dick and his fingers insinuated themselves between my cheeks, the idea of payment didn't stop me from coming like a freight train, back arching, nails scraping across his scalp, dick jumping and pulsing like it wasn't going to stop.

He lifted off me gently and knelt up. I sat up too, finding energy somewhere, and met him in another obscene kiss, tasting myself in his mouth, on his lips.

When he pulled back he dropped his hand shamelessly to his own dick and began lazy strokes that would have had me coming just from the sight of it if I didn't already feel like my balls had been turned inside out. I knew what he wanted, but something in his expression reassured me he wasn't just going to take it. However different this sexual being was to the Nick I'd assumed I knew, it was still Nick.

I leaned over and reached for the lubricant in the drawer next to the bed. Dropping it onto the duvet I shuffled around and got a grip on the wooden headboard, parted my knees and made him the best offer he'd undoubtedly had in a long time. At least the jealous, possessive part of me hoped it was. Unless Jenny really did have a thing for lunatic, dinosaur-hunting professors.

I felt the cold of the lube first, then the heat of his fingers - two for starters - pressing inside me, insistent. I arched my back, took a deep breath in and released it, relaxed, let him in until I felt his hand against my cheeks and his lips on the small of my back.

"Stephen." It was the first word to pass between us since we'd hit the bed and I knew it was a request for permission so I nodded, couldn't quite get the word out of my suddenly constricted throat. Scissoring his fingers slightly, setting off lights behind my eyes, he said my name again and I knew he had to hear me say it.

"Yes." It was rough, low. "Dammit, Nick, yes. Do it!"

Not exactly, 'I want you', but apparently it was enough because his fingers were pulled out of me and his dick - wider and harder - was nudged between my cheeks to push inside me in one smooth movement. It took a couple of deep breaths to ease the tension and let the pain go and he waited for me, absolutely still, stroking my back until I pushed against him and he pulled out to thrust back inside.

That set the rhythm, long and slow movements which slowly resurrected my spent dick. He liked that, reached around and palmed it before leaning over me to whisper, "Let go of the headboard."

I did as I was told and his next thrust took me down to the mattress, trapping my reawakened erection between my sweaty stomach and the soft duvet, with him over my back still buried inside me, holding himself up on strong arms as he moved in and out, dropping kisses to my shoulders, little bites to the back of my neck. Raising my head, craning my neck, I arched back for a kiss and he stuck his tongue in my mouth, groaning softly as I sucked on it, pushing into me suddenly, hard, and I felt him coming, a warm flood inside me. His orgasm triggered by a kiss.



"I thought I'd imagined that kiss down in the tunnel," I told him quietly as he rested his head against my shoulder.

"Not unless we both did." I felt his mouth at my throat. "Shared delusions are usually down to sanity and there wasn't much of that down there." He hesitated, "Stephen… I wasn't sure you'd still want me if we weren't about to die. I hoped I hadn't made a mistake, hadn't fucked up what was left of our friendship."

I shifted so I could get my fingers into his hair, so different now; dry, soft, falling against my skin, refusing to go spiky. "You didn't."

"I thought we were dead. I… knew we were."

"You're saying you'd have kissed Connor if you'd been trapped with him?" I was only half-joking, relieved when Nick's head moved side to side against my shoulder. I remembered the sorrow and pain in his voice when he apologised to me, taking the blame for me being down there.

"You know it was only ever going to be you." His head lifted and I turned to look him in the eye. "You do know that?"

I did then, stared at him, frankly stunned despite what we'd just done. He was back to the old Nick, the one I knew, the other side of him tucked away, hidden like it had been for all the time I'd known him. How wrong had Helen been? Why had she never known what he could be like?

"I want you again." I don't know where the words came from; they just left my mouth of their own volition. He smiled, chuckled, but in the dim evening light filtering through the think curtains he was definitely blushing.

"You're gonna have to give me some recovery time, Stephen. I don't think I've got the energy to die three times in one day."

Sad to say, it took me a few minutes to get it.