Cylical Part 2/?
Title: Cylical
Rating: T
Pairing: Adam/Lucas
Warnings: Slash
Summery: Adam and Lucas are both trying to put themselves back together
Disclaimer: I do not own Spooks.
Lucas pulls up outside his flat hesitates not looking at Adam because this is the point of no return and he won’t push Adam on this, but Adam just take a deep quiet breath, an overt gesture of anxiety for him and steps out to the car.
They are silent, eye front, as they walk into Lucas’ building and up the stairs but nonetheless Lucas can feeling something shifting between them and it feels like the click of Lucas’ door shut behind them is the sealing of some sort of pact, but Lucas isn’t quite sure what he has agreed to.
“Tea?” Adam offers quietly and all Lucas can do suddenly is nod and there are tears brushing against his eyelids and he thinks it’s ridiculous, he gave up crying during the first year, and it so utterly mind bogglingly foolish that Adam simply act of kindness, one that he has preformed so many times before would make him react this way.
So Lucas shuts down the up swell of emotion as effectively as he can and Adam, bless him, doesn’t comment. He just moves completely silent, in that way that he does when he thinks Lucas is asleep and it occurs to Lucas, maybe that is just how Adam is all the time and he, like Lucas, has just taught himself a veneer of humanity over the emptiness.
Because there is an emptiness in Adam, no so much bigger then his wife or the job, something dark and pressing and painful, and Lucas isn’t quite so sure anymore about anything because he isn’t sure he wants Adam to turn to him, isn’t sure he can support him if he stumbles but conversely, ignorance is not bliss, it is danger and trembling and no trust and Lucas desperately want to have faith in something, in someone, and he doesn’t consider how self destructive to let Adam hold up his world.
Except maybe it isn’t, in the months since the bomb, as Adam pulled himself together behind closed doors and walked back in the Thames House with barely a limp and ready to walk beside Lucas in the sharp modern world he found after Russia, Adam has never let Lucas down, ever.
He has never betrayed a cover or a confidence, he has fought to keep Lucas on the team, flat out refused to let them haul him in for a six month debrief, pulled him out of the way of bullets, joked with him, make out with him in hot dark corners, and made the tea, sparring even the quietest trickle of water. Lucas isn’t sure not trusting Adam is smarter than trusting him, but well, Lucas isn’t sure dependence on anybody is a good idea, but then, Lucas smirks, neither does Adam.
“What?” Adam asks, coming out the kitchen with two streaming mugs of tea one of which he hands to Lucas, careful not to let their fingers brush, and Lucas did not expect Adam’s wariness of him to hurt at all, after all numbness is a lifestyle choice he has made and mostly just anger and bitterness and the warm burn of lust have managed to crack that façade.
“Nothing.” Lucas replies and sips his tea, slowly calming because watching Adam blow his tea cool has always calmed him. Tonight it reminds him of better days, of Malcolm threatening to have Adam pulled in for questioning because anyone who doesn’t like their tea hot can not be an Englishman. Adam had laughed and Lucas hadn’t had to think before he grinned, which had made him laugh, and it made him feel a little bit more free then he ever does these days.
Before he can really take a sip, and now Lucas marvels at how he could not notice that Adam never quite puts food in his mouth, Adam lays his tea aside and says, “How much do you know?” and his voice is even and his posture relaxed but Lucas has been on enough operations with Adam to know that he could be out of the chair and onto his feet in less then a second.
So when Lucas replies his voice is low and slow and painfully honest. “Not a lot,” he admits. “You’re not peachy though, are you? You don’t eat near enough and you won’t let anyone see you naked and…” Lucas pauses and takes a deep breath and says, “Sometimes you let me hurt you.”
Adam’s expression is just as tight and pained as Lucas’ voice feels when he whispers, “Oh” and again, “Oh.”
They sit is silence for a moment and Lucas abstractly notices Adam hands and shaking and he feels a little sick and he isn’t sure at all about this.
“I don’t…” Adam trails off and clears his throat. “I don’t let you hurt me, Lucas. We just have a bit of fun, don’t we? I’m a big boy, I can handle myself and about the…well we are always a little harried aren’t we, I mean, a third of the time we’re in public, aren’t we? We couldn’t very well get arrested for public indecency on the job and there is never enough time.” Adam gets rough and sounds like it hurts coming out of his throat as he chokes the last phrase but Lucas ignores it because he isn’t letting Adam give him the run around anymore because he is too fucked up to deal with Adam’s shit.
“That not it and you know it, you have fucking slept in my bed had nightmares not two inches away from me, we have worked together for months and I have never seen you so much as take off your shirt. So you can not tell me, God knows, I would never fucking force you to let some the shit you have knocking around in your head out, but God damn it, do not lie to me and pretend you aren’t…that you don’t…” and Lucas just trails off, panting a little because Adam’s face had gone totally pale, making the dark creases permanently etched under his eyes look like that fissures in ice, dark and cold and unknown.
“Don’t lie to me?” and Adam voice is light but totally devoid of emotion and Lucas suddenly feel bad for pushing, “That’s a pretty tall order for a spy, isn’t? Besides,” and Adam’s voice is cutting now but still controlled and pleasant, “Are you sure you can take it? I have an awful lot of monsters in here,” he taps his head. “And do you, how do I know that I wouldn’t push you over the brink, huh?”
Lucas is totally still and his voice is soft and dangerous when he says, “Get out.” But it’s a moot point anyway because Adam is already rising and Lucas is too distracted by his own fury to distinguish between whether Adam is shaking with anger or some other, softer emotion, but he turns and walks, cat soft out the apartment.
Lucas sits there in the quiet and the dark (they never turned the lights on, neither of them) until with an inarticulate cry he rises and hurls his mug of tea at the wall and stands there, still, chest heaving, furious and lost and painfully alone.
Rating: T
Pairing: Adam/Lucas
Warnings: Slash
Summery: Adam and Lucas are both trying to put themselves back together
Disclaimer: I do not own Spooks.
Lucas pulls up outside his flat hesitates not looking at Adam because this is the point of no return and he won’t push Adam on this, but Adam just take a deep quiet breath, an overt gesture of anxiety for him and steps out to the car.
They are silent, eye front, as they walk into Lucas’ building and up the stairs but nonetheless Lucas can feeling something shifting between them and it feels like the click of Lucas’ door shut behind them is the sealing of some sort of pact, but Lucas isn’t quite sure what he has agreed to.
“Tea?” Adam offers quietly and all Lucas can do suddenly is nod and there are tears brushing against his eyelids and he thinks it’s ridiculous, he gave up crying during the first year, and it so utterly mind bogglingly foolish that Adam simply act of kindness, one that he has preformed so many times before would make him react this way.
So Lucas shuts down the up swell of emotion as effectively as he can and Adam, bless him, doesn’t comment. He just moves completely silent, in that way that he does when he thinks Lucas is asleep and it occurs to Lucas, maybe that is just how Adam is all the time and he, like Lucas, has just taught himself a veneer of humanity over the emptiness.
Because there is an emptiness in Adam, no so much bigger then his wife or the job, something dark and pressing and painful, and Lucas isn’t quite so sure anymore about anything because he isn’t sure he wants Adam to turn to him, isn’t sure he can support him if he stumbles but conversely, ignorance is not bliss, it is danger and trembling and no trust and Lucas desperately want to have faith in something, in someone, and he doesn’t consider how self destructive to let Adam hold up his world.
Except maybe it isn’t, in the months since the bomb, as Adam pulled himself together behind closed doors and walked back in the Thames House with barely a limp and ready to walk beside Lucas in the sharp modern world he found after Russia, Adam has never let Lucas down, ever.
He has never betrayed a cover or a confidence, he has fought to keep Lucas on the team, flat out refused to let them haul him in for a six month debrief, pulled him out of the way of bullets, joked with him, make out with him in hot dark corners, and made the tea, sparring even the quietest trickle of water. Lucas isn’t sure not trusting Adam is smarter than trusting him, but well, Lucas isn’t sure dependence on anybody is a good idea, but then, Lucas smirks, neither does Adam.
“What?” Adam asks, coming out the kitchen with two streaming mugs of tea one of which he hands to Lucas, careful not to let their fingers brush, and Lucas did not expect Adam’s wariness of him to hurt at all, after all numbness is a lifestyle choice he has made and mostly just anger and bitterness and the warm burn of lust have managed to crack that façade.
“Nothing.” Lucas replies and sips his tea, slowly calming because watching Adam blow his tea cool has always calmed him. Tonight it reminds him of better days, of Malcolm threatening to have Adam pulled in for questioning because anyone who doesn’t like their tea hot can not be an Englishman. Adam had laughed and Lucas hadn’t had to think before he grinned, which had made him laugh, and it made him feel a little bit more free then he ever does these days.
Before he can really take a sip, and now Lucas marvels at how he could not notice that Adam never quite puts food in his mouth, Adam lays his tea aside and says, “How much do you know?” and his voice is even and his posture relaxed but Lucas has been on enough operations with Adam to know that he could be out of the chair and onto his feet in less then a second.
So when Lucas replies his voice is low and slow and painfully honest. “Not a lot,” he admits. “You’re not peachy though, are you? You don’t eat near enough and you won’t let anyone see you naked and…” Lucas pauses and takes a deep breath and says, “Sometimes you let me hurt you.”
Adam’s expression is just as tight and pained as Lucas’ voice feels when he whispers, “Oh” and again, “Oh.”
They sit is silence for a moment and Lucas abstractly notices Adam hands and shaking and he feels a little sick and he isn’t sure at all about this.
“I don’t…” Adam trails off and clears his throat. “I don’t let you hurt me, Lucas. We just have a bit of fun, don’t we? I’m a big boy, I can handle myself and about the…well we are always a little harried aren’t we, I mean, a third of the time we’re in public, aren’t we? We couldn’t very well get arrested for public indecency on the job and there is never enough time.” Adam gets rough and sounds like it hurts coming out of his throat as he chokes the last phrase but Lucas ignores it because he isn’t letting Adam give him the run around anymore because he is too fucked up to deal with Adam’s shit.
“That not it and you know it, you have fucking slept in my bed had nightmares not two inches away from me, we have worked together for months and I have never seen you so much as take off your shirt. So you can not tell me, God knows, I would never fucking force you to let some the shit you have knocking around in your head out, but God damn it, do not lie to me and pretend you aren’t…that you don’t…” and Lucas just trails off, panting a little because Adam’s face had gone totally pale, making the dark creases permanently etched under his eyes look like that fissures in ice, dark and cold and unknown.
“Don’t lie to me?” and Adam voice is light but totally devoid of emotion and Lucas suddenly feel bad for pushing, “That’s a pretty tall order for a spy, isn’t? Besides,” and Adam’s voice is cutting now but still controlled and pleasant, “Are you sure you can take it? I have an awful lot of monsters in here,” he taps his head. “And do you, how do I know that I wouldn’t push you over the brink, huh?”
Lucas is totally still and his voice is soft and dangerous when he says, “Get out.” But it’s a moot point anyway because Adam is already rising and Lucas is too distracted by his own fury to distinguish between whether Adam is shaking with anger or some other, softer emotion, but he turns and walks, cat soft out the apartment.
Lucas sits there in the quiet and the dark (they never turned the lights on, neither of them) until with an inarticulate cry he rises and hurls his mug of tea at the wall and stands there, still, chest heaving, furious and lost and painfully alone.