c: abby maitland

I’ve been trying to work out why AbbyxConnor feels so important to me and why they’ve raced to the top of my OTP charts and I think the reason is that they’re so /real/.

It’s not sappy and tv cheesy, or over the top or anything of the sort.

They’re not all over each other, and when they do say “I love you” it’s not over played and dramatised, it’s pure. S05E01, for example, Connor’s choking on gas and manages to croak out “Abby, I” her response? “I know, me too”. There’s not continuous coddling and PDA and whatnot, but she’s so sure in his love for her that he doesn’t even need to say it.

I also adored the fact that we didn’t hear what Abby whispered in Connor’s ear in S05E06, that it was kept a private moment between them up until the point that /she/ proposed to /him/. And thankfully, and true to form, in stead of it becoming a sappy, OTT, cheesy moment, he makes a joke of it before accepting in the best Connor Temple fashion ever.

It also helps that they started off as friends, more so on his part, who were unaware of their feelings for the other/the other’s feelings for them.

It blossomed perfectly and if we don’t get another proper season of Primeval UK, I think I’d be alright because those original and perfect characters had a perfect finale, and not a riding off into the sunset/massive kiss with dramatic music/under the stars kind of “perfect finale” but an absolutely true to form perfect AbbxConnor finale that was absolutely perfect for /them/, low key, understated yet utterly filled with love.

But I would quite like to see them with rings and whatnot so please bring Primeval UK back asap.

If You Like

Primeval: Abby/Connor. Post Series. Warnings: Temporary amnesia, mild angst, and suggestive themes. 

I’m late to the party and deep in shipper hell, but no one cares so here have some fic?

“Everyone needs a day off.”

It seemed to be the phrase of choice the past few days, Abby thought. Nearly every single person she’d come across had said it, and she supposed they had a point. Between field work and a virus affecting several of the animals in the menagerie, she had been running herself a bit ragged.

Although that didn’t necessarily mean she would heed their words, just concede the point; not even when Lester threatened to order her home for at least one day of rest.

Not until Connor said it, at any rate. He’d placed his hands on her shoulders, thumbs rubbing soothing little half circles against her skin. Then he’d nodded his head, encouraging her, and smiled. His cheek dimpled and she knew she couldn’t say no. She never could when he smiled like that.

“Fine,” she had sighed, pretending to make a show of it. His smile had widened and she’d returned it.

The following morning found her in one of Connor’s old tees and not much else, while he thumped around the flat trying to get ready. Abby passed him a thermos full of coffee as he headed out the door, kissing his cheek as she did so. She thought she felt a bit like an old fashioned housewife.

“You know,” Connor drawled as his eyes swept over her legs, “I clearly made a mistake with this day off business.”

“That so?”

He nodded, looking slightly pained. “Should’ve told Lester I was taking the day off as well. Didn’t know I’d have to say goodbye this vision though, did I?” With that Connor leaned in to kiss her properly.

Abby had no doubt he would ditch work, but then they’d get an angry call from Lester and there would probably be yelling, and she really wasn’t in the mood for that. So, she gave Connor another quick peck and then started to gently shove him out the door.

“Tell you what,” she said once he was outside, fumbling with his things. “Maybe I’ll be wearing even less when you get home later. If you like?”

She didn’t wait for a reply, instead shutting the door on his googly eyed face and laughing as she leaned against the frame. Abby was actually quite looking forward to having the flat all to herself.

A proper day off.

* * *

She was never taking a day off again. Not ever. Abby repeated that mantra to herself, a silent promise as she raced to the ARC, running stop lights as her palms grew sweaty on the steering wheel.

The car skidded into the parking garage, and she slammed on the breaks as she flung open the door. She left it running and she stumbled into the lift, willing it to move faster. There were voices calling after her, concerned, but she ignored them as she raced to the infirmary.

A guard blocked her way. She was half ready to jam the heel of her palm into his chin, when someone laid a hand on her shoulder, and a familiar voice called her name. She whirled around to find Becker looking at her worriedly, his brows knit tightly together.

“Where is he?”

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