[ Active / Closed ] Caught in the crossfire

[knightscode]

It's been a complicated few months for Lancelot.

As a Guardian, it isn't terribly great to know one of the Night Council has 'vanished' under mysterious circumstances. Gilbert Norrell may not have been a personal favourite of his, but he was still someone the Guardians were there to protect. Moreover, the investigation is going slowly.

Which is also not brilliant, considering he'd just been promoted.

As both a Police Officer and a Guardian both, there's little Lancelot likes less than the feeling of a dead end.

Then, of course, there's the vampire problem.

Lancelot thinks he can be forgiven for feeling a touch bitter over that.

Richmond -- Early August, Closed to Natasha

Lancelot is starting to feel more than uneasy about what is happening with Islington.

Especially since he has unwittingly helped create the current situation.

He dislikes feeling used, and even if he has managed to fend them off once from taking back the territory he took the loss of trust is something that stings.

Jean-Claude makes him feel uneasy. He'd liked him at first, the man had even saved him. Yet everything that came after makes Lancelot wonder if he has trusted too easily. What the vampire has told him is true -- in comparison surely he is far from the worst one, but then again perhaps that is only because Lancelot has not seen him at his worse. Perhaps he is being fooled all over again.

What he needs is someone who better understands vampires than he does, which is honestly not difficult. Yet... equally, there is someone he can think of.

Although most likely this isn't what she'd been thinking of when he'd offered to meet her.

He's standing outside the small, brightly coloured shop with one hand shoved into the pockets of faded jeans. The sun is long set, but the place is open until midnight -- although Lancelot suspects the fact that this caters to the supernatural community is entirely unintentional. Lily is sat pressed up against his legs, leaning slightly into him as his free hand ruffles her white fur. She's the first to sense Natasha approaching, and looks around before pushing to all fours -- tail beginning to swish up over her back. Lancelot looks up in turn, brightens a little at the sight of her and offers a small smile.

Then he belatedly realises he's standing in front of a small frozen yogurt shop and looks back at it self-consciously for a second before offering her a shrug.

"I hope it's everything you thought it would be," he says, and his lips twitch in barely repressed amusement.

Southwark -- backdated to June / Closed to Faolan.


Lancelot is more than a little surprised he actually won, but he's not arguing with it.

Now, though, as adrenaline begins to wear off all the cuts and scrapes he's wearing begin to hurt and as he looks down at himself... Lancelot can't help but laugh a little.

He looks like he belongs on the cover of some utterly ridiculous romance novel, shirt sliced and covered with blood. Doesn't help that it's a white shirt. Why did he wear a white shirt? He wasn't thinking, that's why, he was too angry to think. Sighing a little he tries to work out the best way to get home like this. He'll be stared at if he takes public transport. Maybe a taxi would be more forgiving.

With a heavy sigh he plods his way back toward the gaggle of Daybreak witches -- then catches sight of something out of the corner of his eye.

Faolan? Of all people -- well, Lancelot would have dragged him into such a thing once upon a time but... Faolan is now the leader of Hillingdon, and already has enough political complication without looking as if he's assisting in a Daybreak claim.

Lancelot blinks at him a moment before frowning and beginning to cautiously step over.

"If you're looking to help," he begins slowly, "you're a little late now. I'm afraid it appears to be over."

Comments

[reticence]

"It was handled," Faolan repeats incredulously. "Yes, I'm sure that it was. I'm sure that Jean-Claude handled it all very nicely indeed! Tidied it all away, just the way that he wanted to, and that was that." He knows that vampire's type. And he knows Lancelot. Despite how strong and capable the other man is, the vampire has centuries of manipulation on him. And Lancelot will always be too nice.

"If you think that you should owe him a favor after that then you're wrong. If you think that he wouldn't have killed you back there in a heartbeat if he was given the choice between you or him, if you think he would have honored his word, then I suggest you study up on vampires," Faolan rants. "You could have died out there! If he really wanted that territory, he could have just killed you and taken what he believes to be his. He's toying with you, Lancelot. They all do. Like a cat with a mouse -- just before they eat it. You can never trust a vampire, do you understand that now?"

[knightscode]

Frustration twists tight in Lancelot's chest, but he fixedly sets his jaw and tries to ignore it. Faolan means well, he knows that. He's just worried.

That doesn't make it feel much better to be railed at this way.

"Have you finished with this?" he says instead, vaguely shifting his eyes to the injury Faolan was cleaning up.

If Faolan is done, he feels like he'd really rather leave at this point.

[reticence]

"No," Faolan barks in response, but he can read behind Lancelot's question, read his body language and the tight set of his jaw. He takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly before sitting forward and concentrating on his work instead. The last thing he needs is for Lancelot to develop an infection or something because he was too focused on the vampire detail instead.

He's quiet for a long moment, working to efficiently assess, clean, disinfect, and bandage the worst of Lancelot's cuts before he can't help himself speaking up to ask, "Would you tell me now?" His eyes flicker up to the other man and then back down to his hands. Almost afraid of his answer, but compelled to ask regardless. "If it happened again, would you..."

[knightscode]

Lancelot flinches slightly at the abrupt response, slowly relaxes again inch by inch as Faolan forces himself to relax in turn.

Would you tell me now? Faolan prompts, and Lancelot hesitates. He hesitates because he doesn't know, because he might but he also might not. Because Faolan has feelings for him, and he doesn't want to hurt them but he also wants him to remember how things stand.

"I might," he says softly, "if I needed help, or was still injured... but... I didn't want to talk about it, Faolan, and I don't... have to."

[reticence]

Faolan glances up at the other man in response to that, his brow furrowed and his eyes slightly narrowed, not out of anger this time, but out of frustration. Confusion. He doesn't understand, and he doesn't know if he wants to, and it leaves him feeling raw and uncertain -- a look mirrored on his face as well.

"Why not?" he has to ask, despite himself. Is it because of Hillingdon? Is it because he's a hunter? Is it because Lancelot thinks he's sparing him, keeping from burdening him with his problems? After everything that Lancelot has done for him, the comparison so unbalanced that Faolan feels almost ashamed of it at times, even as he goes crawling back to the other man time and time again -- why not?

[knightscode]

He gives a very slight, incredulous jerk of an eyebrow at that -- and when he answers his tone is a little deadpan.

"You want to know why I don't want to talk about nearly dying, being forced to drink vampire blood then suddenly finding said vampire wandering about my head uninvited?"

Shouldn't it be obvious it makes him uncomfortable? He's fairly sure Faolan would be uncomfortable himself, given the same situation, and when has Lancelot ever appeared good at talking about his own problems?

"Or -- do you want to know why... I think I shouldn't have to?" Which makes his discomfort ramp up again, brow furrowing uneasily. "Forgive me but, you're a good friend Faolan but... we're not dating here."

[reticence]

Faolan does his best not to react visibly to that, and for the most part he succeeds. It definitely shuts him up though, as he drops his eyes to his hands, pausing in his actions for a long moment before forcing himself into action again. Trying not to let it show how just a few simple words could feel like such a slap in the face. And then some. 'We're not dating here.' No, he supposes darkly to himself, they aren't.

He isn't exactly sure how to respond to that. So he doesn't at first. Knowing Lancelot is undoubtedly aware of the fact that he wishes that they were. Knowing that his silence stretching on like this probably only makes things even more awkward between them. More awkward than the idea that Lancelot knows in the first place, for there it is, forced to sit out in the open between them yet again.

Faolan tries to ignore his desire to run away or possibly try and toss himself out his balcony window, and instead sits back in his chair, forcing himself to speak up so that the silence doesn't draw out for too long. Any longer than it has at any rate. "None of these are all that deep. You might want to get a tetanus vaccine, if you haven't had one recently. Sooner rather than later. Who knows what condition those swords were in..." he fusses, becasuse it's easier to fuss than to face his own discomfort just in that moment.

[knightscode]

Lancelot watches Faolan pause, watches him study his hands a little more intently than necessary and then try to deflect away. He knows it probably hurt, and he feels guilty for that -- he doesn't want to hurt Faolan.

But they aren't dating. They aren't, and Faolan is... well, he's acting like a possessive partner.

"I'll make sure I get a tetanus shot," he agrees, "I promise." His tone stays easy and soothing, as if that might help Faolan settle after the previous remark.

[reticence]

Faolan isn't certain that the soothing doesn't sting more, after such a response, but he nods nonetheless. What must he think of him, he wonders, tagging around him like this. Pretending like nothing had happened when they both know now Faolan's desire for him. It's more than that though. He hopes that Lancelot understands that too. Understands that it isn't just jealousy which motivates his words. Not now. It isn't possession that makes Faolan fear for the other man's life, nor is it desire, but the deep affection that he has for him. Undoubtedly deeper than it should be.

He lets another moment's silence stretch between them and as a principle, Faolan isn't certain he can dig himself any deeper of a hole. That is until he opens his mouth to say, "But what if we were though." The flash of fear in his eyes and sudden recoil that Faolan makes should be more than enough indication to the other man that those weren't quite the words he had intended to slip out, just now.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes hastily, all of the previous fight gone out of him, and moves to stand and begin gathering the supplies. Give himself an excuse to back out of the question. An excuse to run away from his problems yet again, just as things were beginning to really look messy. An escape.

[knightscode]

But what if we were though?

It isn't something Lancelot really has an answer to. He has no idea what it would be like if they were dating. Would it be good, bad, worse than bad? He hasn't anything to even begin to gauge that.

"Faolan..." he begins, and holds out a hand to stop him as he begins to quickly get up and move -- rests it on his arm to try and either stop him or at least slow him down.

[reticence]

He pauses as Lancelot reaches out a hand to him, although he can't imagine why the other man would be stopping him. He can't imagine any possible scenario where him staying there in this room doesn't make an even bigger mess of things than it has now. But it isn't as though he can just leave either. This is his flat, after all.

Faolan knows that he does stupid things, when he feels as exposed as he does now. When he can't run and hide, like he wants to. He feels his heart hammering in his chest as he stands regarding the other man, and he can feel even before the deed is done another stupid decision welling up within him. And he'll be damned if he has any power within himself to do more than sit back and watch it happen.

"Would it be such a terrible thing?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, because he feels like his heart might leap straight out of his mouth if he gives it half the chance.

[knightscode]

"I don't know," Lancelot admits, and he lets his hand drop from the man's arm. "All I know is you're one of my dearest friends, Faolan, and I would hate to risk that."

If it all went wrong they'd still have to work together, and they wouldn't even have each other's friendship to get through. Is that worth it? Lancelot has no idea. He struggles to imagine exactly what it would be like, truth be told.

[reticence]

Faolan stands quiet, regarding the other man for a long moment, feeling his heart thundering in his chest, so loud he can almost hear it pounding in his ears as well. Trying to comprehend just what Lancelot is getting at. It isn't that he's telling him that he's not interested in men, or even more specifically that he isn't interested in Faolan himself. Just a simple confession that he doesn't want anything to ruin their friendship.

Faolan's mind comes to a screeching halt.

"You..." he says, trailing the words off as he fights to make himself catch up. He didn't say no. He didn't say no, and the small part of Faolan that was still holding out hope despite the odds suddenly finds itself holding on to this, as tight as he can. Forcing itself out through his mouth as he stands there, otherwise lost for words.

"You wouldn't have to," he says, his voice quiet and low. "I would never..." He swallows, hard, before the next words slip out, unbidden. "You're the most important person in my life, Lancelot, and I... I know that I cock a lot of things up. But. If I were given the chance..." He glances down, away, anywhere but at Lancelot himself, because he isn't certain he wants the other man to see the desperation written there. "If I were given the chance," he continues, quietly, "you had better believe I would do my best to get things right, for a change."

[knightscode]

"I don't doubt it, but... that doesn't mean I would get things right myself. Look at me, Faolan, I just duelled a vampire with a weapon I've never used before. I'm missing years of my life. My relationship track record is a disaster, and -- forgive me for mentioning it but I'm also your superior."

Which, as far as Lancelot is concerned, is already a long lost of problems before they even get into the more personal ones. Of which there are plenty for both of them.

[reticence]

Faolan shrugs absently in response to the other man's explanation of what might make things difficult for them, only just keeping himself from raising an eyebrow at that last part as well (does he really think that matters, all things considered). He bites his lip for a moment, moving to shake his head before he turns to look up at Lancelot himself.

"Tell me you're not interested, and I will accept that," he says. Keeping his voice quiet, as if afraid he might break this spell otherwise. "Tell me... You're not interested in men, or that. You'll never see me in such a way. I will accept that too. But none of the rest of that matters here, Lancelot, no more than it does to our friendship. So please... If that is what's holding you back..." Faolan trails off unsteadily. It's taking a lot for him, even to be as bold as this.

[knightscode]

"I mattes to me, Faolan. It might matter to you if you really thought about it too. It all changes things."

He takes a deep breath, lets it out in a heavy sigh and rubs his forehead.

"Do we have to do this now? It's just..."

Just that he's tired, covered in cuts and bruises, all of that. Lancelot gestures vaguely at himself to encompass this, offers a wincing smile.

"I'd like to think about things properly, rather than... well, not."

[reticence]

Faolan glances at Lancelot, at the state he's in, before shaking his head slightly. "No," he responds, deflating somewhat as he does. "We don't have to talk about this now." He isn't sure when he'll ever be able to bring it up again -- he only seems to be able to bring it up at the worst of times all things concidered. He only seems capable of making mistakes, it would seem. Of exasperating the other man, pushing him into situations and conversations he would rather avoid. It's no wonder that Lancelot hasn't agreed to anything yet.

He turns back to the supplies as he had done before, moving to gather them up to bring them back to the medicine cabinet in his bathroom. Quietly wondering to himself as he does at how the other man can build him up so high and make him feel like such an idiot at the same time.

[knightscode]

"Thank you," Lancelot says in relief, and rubs at his face as he shifts to get more comfortable. "I don't suppose I can still get that drink?"

And, well, a shirt that might fit -- but if he has to pick one of the two he's somewhat leaning toward a drink right now. Especially after all the conversation that came on top of everything else.

[reticence]

"Yeah, of course," he responds, gathering the supplies in hand and glancing back at the other man. Trying not to take it to heart how relieved he seems to let it go for now. He's had a long day, that's it, he thinks to himself, as he pads into his bedroom and tosses it all on the bed. He'll sort it out later.

"Do you have a preference?" he calls out, moving towards his bureau and starting to dig. A drink will go easier if Lancelot's got a shirt on, after all. He's sure that the other man will feel better for having it and Faolan perhaps will be more consciencious of the words coming out of his mouth if he does. He's sure that he has something that'd fit Lancelot, and he finds it after a moment in the shape of a free handout from a gym, shaking it out to make certain that it's not in terrible condition before returning to the kitchen with it for Lancelot.

"Here," he says, handing it to the other man before moving to lean against the counter, a safe distance away.

[knightscode]

He takes it and just holds it a moment, rubbing the fabric between his fingers like some sort of touchstone. As if it might ground him and help him cope with this.

"Something... strong, I suppose? While bearing in mind I don't drink much."

As Faolan well knows, having seen the minimal supplies in his flat.

[reticence]

Faolan huffs something of a laugh in response to that, recalling the amaretto that the other man had served him at one point. No, he supposes he knows that Lancelot doesn't drink all that much, all things considered.

"Strong I can do," Faolan replies, turning to the cabinet behind him and, after a moment's consideration, bringing down a bottle of spiced rum and a glass tumbler for it. "I can put ice in the glass if you like?" he asks, turning back to the other man and raising his eyebrows slightly, uncertain whether Lancelot even knows whether he'd like that or not. "It'll cut the flavor a little," he elaborates slightly.

[knightscode]

"Please, if you have some."

If nothing else, a cool drink in this summer heat sounds good.

"I shouldn't drink too much, though, or I'll be falling asleep. You might not mind but I think Lily would."

[reticence]

"Unless the freezer has given out, there should be some," Faolan replies, shifting to open it and retrieve an ice cube from the drawer. He drops it in the glass before screwing off the top of the bottle of rum and pouring the other man a healthy glass.

"Here," he says, setting it down and sliding it across his little kitchen table towards him before turning to pour himself a healthy glass of his own. Notably without the ice, but Faolan wants to feel the heat of the spice. Take his mind off of the hole he has dug for himself.

"Don't worry about getting home tonight," he says, settling down opposite the other man and then speaking up to elaborate, lest Lancelot start getting any ideas of what he's trying to say. "I may not be able to promise you home before midnight," considering it's already passed, "but I'll see that you get there, one way or another."

[knightscode]

Lancelot takes another deep breath, lets it out slowly and picks up the drink to take a quick sip. He blinks at the strength of it, takes a second to decide how he feels about that before setting the glass down and tugging the t-shirt Faolan handed to him on.

"If you don't, Lily will probably have something to say about it."

Straightening the t-shirt vaguely he offers Faolan a faint smile, a little hopeful. As if half questioning if they're still allowed to joke like this after all the drama.

[reticence]

Faolan's eyes fall to the center of the table in the face of the other man's questioning smile. There's something about the fact that Lancelot has to question whether he's allowed to lighten the mood in the first place that stings. The knowledge that it's his fault, perhaps. That makes it sting most of all.

Still, he would never want the other man to caution himself, not around him. Not because of him. So he does his best to rally himself, taking a sip of his drink before he replies, "You know, somehow I don't find myself feeling particularly threatened by that."