AN: This is my Alan/Ian fic. I stopped working on it for a long whiles, but I'm back on board (finally).
Ian/Alan. Set during JP1. Implied Ellie/other. Ian and Alan bond after they distract the T-Rex from the kids and then get chased and lost. Cue Adventure.
And yes, I'm playing with timing a bit. Rather than have them sit uselessly all night, Arnold and Hammond go ahead and reboot the computers around dawn. And I'm experimenting with this style. It's pretty fun to write.
We're running with the shadows of the night
So baby take my hand, you'll be all right
Surrender all your dreams to me tonight
They'll come true in the end
…Running with the Shadows of the Night…
So Ian's a little jumpy. Given the fact that they're only on their feet thanks to rainwater, the rest of Ian's whiskey, adrenaline, and oh yeah, the sheer terror of being eaten alive by dinosaurs, Alan can't really blame him. They've been on the run for half the night, which could no doubt sound daring and grand until one added up the minutes and realized that half the night literally translated to six hours.
Six hours since the jeeps had shut down. Six hours since they'd spotted the T-Rex. Six hours since it had gone for the lawyer and the kids and Ian had tried to distract it by shouting and Alan had—literally—saved him from the jaws of death with a well-placed shove…
….which carried them right over the edge.
They'd gotten tangled up in the vines on the way down (thank God) and then the Rex had followed them back into the enclosure (less good) and Ian—who's never liked heights—looked down and realized the vines in which they were trapped were suspending them a good 20-30 feet off the ground.
Which, Ian realized, watching Alan struggle to extract himself, would mean that getting free would mean getting broken bones (at the very least) and oh yeah, they were surrounded by dinosaurs so maybe they should think things through a little before they plummeted to their no-doubt inevitable demise?
Ian, still tangled in the vines, managed a foothold in one that seemed (relatively) stable and used to it to hurl himself bodily at Alan, who squawked (loudly) as they both dropped a couple of feet before the vines readjusted to hold their combined weight.
The T-Rex, attracted by the movement and noise, was suddenly within Ian's peripheral, and Alan, who appeared to be choosing this particularly terrible moment to string together in an irritated rant the most words Ian had yet to hear him say, hadn't appeared to notice. And if Ian hadn't been completely trapped in vines, dangling above the ground and about to be snapped up as an oversized pet treat and hadn't been unable (for the one unfortunate time in his life) to get a word in edgewise…
Well, he might have made a different decision.
As it was, he'd leaned closer to a surprised Alan and planted his lips firmly on the other man's, expecting at any moment a headbutt and not at all the soft, (responsive?) mouth that changed his thoughts from 'Shut up, shut up crazy dino man!' to the soft, pleasant hum of contentment that was interrupted by the wicked voice in his mind that whispered 'Next Mrs. Malcolm? Or maybe—'
And then the entire mood was ruined by the earth-trembling sound of footsteps coming closer. Their lips were no longer locked but the sound of their shaky breaths were deafening in each other's ears and they stayed there, frozen, long after the T-Rex's footsteps had faded into the distance. Slowly Alan met Ian's eyes, and despite their wide, terrified state they reminded him that he was still lying on top of the man.
"Sorry," he mumbled, attempting (in his own noble way) to maneuver himself (gracefully) off of Alan. He fell about a foot before Alan had (somehow) rolled over and grabbed his arms. The movement jerked the vines again and they continued down about two more feet before the vines caught, both still dangling in mid-air.
Alan glanced up at the tree above them and then back down at Ian with an ironic smile. "No need to be sorry," he said, continuing their conversation as if there had been no interruption. "You seem to have saved me from becoming dinner."
"For now," Ian murmured.
And that seemed to be that. It had taken them a good hour to get untangled without falling (there'd been a couple close calls and catches) and work their way back to the ground.
The far-too close roar of the T-Rex had sent them scrambling and (no surprise) right over the edge of a relatively steep incline and down into the (shocking!) river at the bottom. Ian had a hard time containing his joy.
Fairly (read hopelessly) lost, complete darkness surrounding them, and now soaking wet, Ian would've traded his last three wives (okay, so not that great a sacrifice, but still) for the ability to find some place to huddle (read cuddle) and get some sleep.
Unfortunately, while the T-Rex was almost certainly not stalking them it stayed just close enough to give the impression of following, and roared just enough to seem like it was hunting them, and kept getting close enough to make Ian, at least, certain that it had affixed one of them with a tracking device. Alan just dismissed the idea with a blank (though highly effective) stare.
So here they are. Still running for their lives, fighting fear and leg cramps and their natural instinct to pretend they aren't lost (men).
"It has to sleep sometime, right?" Ian asks, peering over his shoulder for what he's affectionately nicknamed the 'Giant Jaws of Doom.' (Ian's a little more tired than he'd like to let on).
Alan appears to be ignoring him (per usual) and is instead staring up at a large tree. "Does this look familiar to you?" he asks. Ian looks up and waits for his tired eyes to focus.
"Not especially," he sighs. "But then, we're kinda in a forest, so…"
"I think we're close to where we fell!" Alan says, shooting him a positively delightful grin. Ian follows half-heartedly.
Twenty minutes later they're looking up at a tangled knot of vines.
"Huh," Ian says, considering how close they came to never getting down. What a lame way to die… 'Drs. Malcolm and Grant were found trapped in vines. They appeared to have died of dehydration…'
"We should definitely get eaten if it comes down to it. Dehydration is so last year," Ian comments thoughtfully. Alan slowly turns to stare at him, eyebrow inching up. And then he freezes.
"Ian…" he starts, but Ian's face is edging toward fury rather than fear.
"That's it, I'm done, this thing has chased us all night—"
"Ian, shut up!" Alan hisses, vainly trying to grab hold of one of Ian's wildly gesticulating arms.
"No, it needs to know that this is completely—" he continues, and then Alan has barreled into his body and is pinning him in place against a nearby tree. "…unacceptable…" he murmurs softly.
Alan, if he'd been thinking clearly rather than considering evil dinosaurs and wondering how the two of them keep ending up with their bodies pressed together, might have been able to come up with a more effective plan for silencing and distracting Ian. Instead, his hand (completely of its own volition) is suddenly tugging Ian's head down and Ian—for once appearing to be speechless—doesn't appear to be protesting.
Alan hasn't kissed someone up against a tree since high school. Ian hasn't been kissed up against a tree since junior high.
Which is maybe why they don't immediately notice the herbivore (with apparent brain damage) that wanders behind them. They vaguely hear a roar, and when they pull (reluctantly) apart they spot the T-Rex carrying away her breakfast.
"Huh," Alan says, voice thoughtful. Ian just stares at him. "Sorry," Alan adds, stepping back a little and waving a hand to encompass the entire situation.
"Not at all," Ian replies, lips twitching up. "No one wants to be dino breakfast, and I was kind of…"
"Not thinking straight?" Alan supplies, lifting an eyebrow.
"Yeah, that or…insane," Ian smirks. Alan glances back over to the cement wall they'd fallen off of earlier.
"So," he says, scratching his cheek in a contemplative manner.
"Oh, I am not risking death-by-dehydration by climbing back up those vines," Ian snaps.
Twenty minutes later, Ian is attempting to get untangled from the vine that seems to be lusting after his right ankle.
"Alan," he says at last, "There—ah—there appears to be some sort of—"
"Hold still," Alan growls, dropping down until he's next to Ian's would-be flailing foot. Frowning in concentration he begins separating and sliding the vines off.
"So how are you enjoying your holiday?" Ian asks snarkily. Alan glances up at him with a little grin.
"I've had worse," he replies at last, now, having freed Ian, sliding back up.
"Worse than this," Ian deadpans, disbelief obvious.
"Well, the company's not bad," Alan grins, and then starts back up. Ian is just glad that his hands are still tangled so that he doesn't accidentally let go and plummet back to the earth. Slowly he starts up again.
Twenty minutes later they crest the top. One jeep—theirs, Ian realizes—appears to have been stepped on, but the other is still stopped where it had been. The nearby outhouse has been crushed, however, and there's blood and…
"The kids!" Ian and Alan half-shout at the same time, dashing over to the one remaining jeep.
The door is empty, the jeep is empty, and they look at each other, silent (terrified).
"Hammond would've got them," Alan says. Ian nods determinedly.
"Ellie wouldn't have stood for them out here all night."
"Right," Ian repeats. They stand there, silent, looking at each other.
"I really hate this place," Alan says quietly, and Ian grabs his hand and squeezes it tight for a moment, and then drops it, looking startled. Alan looks at him, perplexed.
They both look at the car in front of them. Ian clears his throat.
"We should get back to the complex?" he offers. Alan nods.
Ian smirks. "Maybe you should lead."
AN: This is the first part, I'll put the next part up tomorrow.