Waistcoat Wednesday!

Welcome to waistcoat Wednesday!

First up I have an apology. In my pathetic, random illness ridden state I couldn’t cope with anything more than a compfy jumper today, so I have let the wasitcoated side down. I hope lots of you are fully waistcoated to make up for my total lack.

So, after the initial wasitcoated joy of last week, can we keep it going? Are you in a waistcoat? Do you have a wasitcoated story, pics etc to share with the world? Or let me know what you think of my choice of Waistcoat Wonder.

Below I have a mini picspam of this week’s Waistcoated Wonder; one of my faves and one that holds a special place in my fangirl heart. He may not have the BAMF-ness of last week’s Mr Jones  – certainly in the first three series – but what he lacks in fighting ability he makes up with brains, geekiness and downright adorability (with appologies for awful quality of caps).

 

( I give you the many waistcoated looks of the one and only Le Connor Temple: )

 

Helping

Title: Helping
Fandom: Primeval
Characters: Lester/Connor
Words: 150
Rating/warnings: PG.
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Primeval.
Spoilers: None
AN: *sigh* A very brief conversation on Denial with fredbassett and lukadreaming  led to a couple of stupid images in my head, and then the boys went and wrote this. I tried to beat them with sticks, but it didn't work. My excuse is that I'm ill and have no control over what gets written. I can only apologise on behalf of us all.

Lester leant against the doorframe, watching the scene in the kitchen, arms folded across his chest. 

He coughed with meaning. 

Connor whirled around, a startled expression on his face. As he spun a plate flew out of his hand and Frisbeed spectacularly across the kitchen. It hit the wall first and then the floor with a satisfying smashing sound. 

Lester sighed and rolled his eyes. Connor looked faintly panic stricken. He reminded Lester of a startled and apologetic deer. 

“This is exactly why we have the ‘no-kitchen’ rule Connor.” 

Connor held up his hands which were currently shrouded, not in his usual woollen fingerless gloves, but bright yellow rubber ones instead. 

“I was trying to help.” 

Lester entered the kitchen and wrapped an arm around the younger man’s shoulders, leading him gently but firmly away from the sink. 

“I think you should stick to helping by not helping, don’t you?”