Fic post, part the second
Co-written with Polaris. ^^ Before all else, we should probably apologise for the insane length of this fic. If you don't want to read it all at once, you are probably sane. ^^ In any case, here be the chronicles of Finn's first three or so days in the land of llamas with Lord Alden. This is rated probably around high PG-13, for swearing and vague sex and excessive use of the word 'fuck' and the fact that these are not very happy boys. Um. Enjoy. ^^
It’s the Fall that Kills You
Part Two
Alden awoke with his face pressed comfortably to the back of someone’s neck. His eyes stayed shut for a moment. This was the only nice part, of course. Then he’d remember why it was that he was curled up with someone, and he’d remember who they were, and he’d have to wake up properly, and it would stop being nice at all.
So.
Who was it?
The previous day-two days, point in fact-came rushing back to him, and Alden sat up slowly, very surprised indeed. Finn. Who was still fully clothed, of course, as was Alden. The lad was barely up for anything more than twitching his fingers, really.
And Alden didn’t really want Finn to be the sort of person he usually fucked, even when Finn was entirely better.
Alden sighed, and ran a tired hand over his face, vanishing the beginnings of a beard. That was one of the nicer little perks of having magic, of course. Shaving was a hell of a waste of time.
He was also thinking very silly things. He really did need to start considering what he would do with the lad here; it had interrupted his work nicely enough, though Alden couldn’t bring himself to mind that. Didn’t mind at all.
Not when Finn was alive; warm and breathing evenly, fingers twitching a little in response to some dream. He had bled so much.
But he was alive.
I missed you. Finn’s voice echoed in his head suddenly.
Alden sighed again, and got to his feet. Cot too big. That was rather awkward, sleeping together like this, but Finn probably needed it. Definitely needed it, Alden corrected himself, and winced a bit. He could remember too well the lad’s arms tight around him, Finn’s mouth pressed to the hollow of his throat.
He didn’t want that memory, damn it. Not with Finn so-
Say it. He’s damned beautiful.
Beautiful and damaged. But only damaged on the outside, and beautiful all the way through.
Dammit, what was he thinking? Poetics? Mad. Mad and stupid.
Alden swore again, quietly, and collected a bit of food for himself and Finn, then went back to the cot, sitting down and beginning his own portion. Let the lad sleep. He needed it.
And Alden rather needed some time without the boy awake, quick clever words and those eyes. Damndamndamn.
Finn slept while he looked on; time didn’t matter, just here. There would be things to do when he woke, but Alden had this fragile moment between swimming in sleep and falling through the air, and he was going to savour it, however mad that might be.
Soon enough, though-too soon-Alden had eaten half the food, and it would be foolish to start on yet more bread and meat and water, not when Finn needed it the more. The lad still had to restore all that lost blood.
Alden shook the boy’s shoulder gently. “Wake up, lad.”
Finn made a murmury little sound and blinked sleepily. “What?”
“Rested?” Alden asked, rather idiotically.
Finn smiled, though, and stretched. “Yeah.” He rolled over, wincing, onto his stomach, waving at the food Alden held. “Have you eaten, and that’s what’s left?”
“Yes. All for you and that blood you need back.”
Finn nodded gravely and accepted the bread and jerky, movements slow but not as painful as they had seemed the night before.
“And the water,” Alden added, handing him the flask as well. “I’d give you chocolatl, but I don’t think your immune system is quite up to that.”
“Getting drunk? No, probably not.” The water was gone quickly, along with the food, and Finn settled his head on his arms.
“Not all chocolatl is alcoholic,” Alden said, leaning back against the wall. “The Quechuans did that. It’s an Aztec drink originally-their greatest major export in this world. Excellent economy for it. That’s part of the reason the Inca wants their country as well; lots of wealth in it.” He gave Finn a rueful little grin. “But that’s all politics, and all I was trying to say was that you can get decent chocolate here-even called chocolate-if you go to Britain. However, the point rests that there is only alcoholic Quechuan chocolatl in this cave.”
He realised with faint horror that he was babbling.
But Finn was nodding, and smiling a little. “I’ll have to try it, when I can.” He was quiet for a moment, then said, “But now you should probably tell Meligot that I’m okay, and Julliard as well; he threatened to follow me if I didn’t show up in a week.”
“Good gods,” Alden said in horror, and his computer dropped out of the pocket of otherspace so quickly that he nearly didn’t catch it. “Right to it, lad.”
Finn made an agreeable noise and pillowed his head again.
Alden sighed, and quickly tapped in what needed to be said. Somehow in the last few days T.H.E.Y.’s troubles had become strangely remote. Meligot and Vonnegh, at least, would certainly know what to do, and Meligot was far easier for people to rally around than was he.
For now the important thing was finishing his work here, and getting Finn healed properly.
The boy was dozing again, not tired enough to sleep, but bereft of other tasks and not wishing to disturb Alden.
Alden sighed and vanished his computer. “Finn.”
“Yeah?”
“How’s your back, lad?”
“It hurts a lot. Like what happens when you don’t exercise, and then work out really hard all at once.” Finn sighed softly.
“Ah.” Alden considered for a moment. Finn certainly needed his back worked at a bit. And Alden... didn’t need that. At all. Bad, bad idea, touching the lad that much. He liked the boy, damn it all. It would be inexcusably stupid to let something like physical attraction get in the way of that.
“Good for me to work at it, then,” Alden settled on saying.
“I’d appreciate that.” Finn’s eyes were deeply grateful.
Alden swallowed. “Right, lad.” He slid closer to Finn, looked the boy over carefully. Had he left scars? Damn that. Damndamndamn. “Finn, you’ll have to take off that shirt.”
Finn groaned irritably and the shirt he wore vanished.
Alden winced. That was a pretty lot of scars. He settled his hands on the worst of them, began smoothing them over. Finn’s back shouldn’t be marred so.
Finn’s fingers curled and uncurled in the blankets. “Bad?” he murmured. He already knew the answer, and was tense beneath Alden’s hands.
“Not nearly so bad as it could be,” Alden murmured dryly. The lurid lines were vanishing under his fingertips, though he didn’t mention that; didn’t know what Finn would think of it. “You’ll heal fine.”
“Huh.” Finn relaxed a little. “Thank you,” he whispered.
“None of that,” Alden told him, low-voiced. “This wasn’t a favour.”
“I know. I don’t mean that sort of thanks. Not offhanded like.” Finn’s voice was oddly fervent.
“Very well, then. You’re quite welcome.” Inadequate words. Alden winced slightly, smoothing away the last of the scars, then pressed his thumbs deeper against the boy’s shoulderblades, going for the still-weak muscle beneath.
Finn hissed, then relaxed with a pained little moan, fingers curling tighter in the blankets.
Alden did not apologise; he was pressing softly enough to cause nothing more than superficial pain, but if he went so lightly that it did not hurt Finn, nothing would be mended. He suspected the boy knew this.
He also knew, with a sharp, uncomfortable awareness, that this sort of pain was sometimes pleasurable.
Don’t think about that. But Alden couldn’t just do this, clinical and detached; this was Finn, and Finn was alive, and Alden wanted to touch him. Damndamndamn.
Finn whimpered and hid his face, whispering something Alden couldn’t make out.
He didn’t ask the boy what it was; if Finn wanted him to hear, he would. Instead he concentrated on the task at hand-eased tension out of the muscles, gently knit them better with a touch and a thought, tried very hard not to revel in the feel of Finn’s skin under his fingers.
Finn was limp when he was finally done, swearing softly under his breath. “Thanks,” he said again-the superficial kind of thanks, this time.
Alden didn’t dignify that with an answer, only moved his hands, sat back, put a bit of space between himself and the boy. “Better, then?”
“Yeah.” Finn pulled his shirt back out of nothingness, curled up like a cat on the cot. Must be feeling a lot better, to be able to do that.
“Glad to hear it.” He felt suddenly exhausted; perhaps he’d put more into that little healing than he’d thought.
Finn patted the cot beside him. “You ought to sleep some more. We’ll have to get to work after this.”
Alden blinked at him in faint surprise. “You don’t even know what the hell I’m up to.”
“Yeah I do. You told me, remember?”
“And what did I tell you?” He was tired, but that could wait. “I believe you posited suggestions.”
“Shield around the rainforests. Use the land,” Finn murmured. “Power points-ancient sacred sites work best. There must be hundreds scattered throughout the forest. You could probably extend a shield over most of South and Middle America.”
Alden ran a hand through his hair. “Your memory is certainly better than mine, lad. All right. I’ve been working with the power points-not just a shield, though, but a sort of warning system. That’s all sorts of illegal, of course, and I’ll have to do some delicate diplomatic maneuvering once I’m in contact with the Aztecs and Mayans, but at the moment, the power points are in essence my project.” He felt suddenly horribly tired. “But never mind that now.”
“When you’re rested,” Finn said gently.
“Don’t coddle me,” Alden mumbled, lying down, half-asleep already.
“I’m not. It’s just common sense.” Finn shifted closer.
Alden nearly told him to not come any closer, either, but it didn’t seem quite worth the effort, and he slid into sleep.
He was warm, pressed close against someone strangely nice-smelling-oranges? and chocolate, too-with a bit of slightly scratchy wool blanket rubbing against his cheek. Finn floated between sleep and consciousness, content and safe.
Alden? he thought lazily. The man was very still, save his regular breathing, nearly soothing enough to send Finn back into sleep.
Alden. Finn smiled softly. Safe.
The man’s breathing changed. It was not a fast transformation, and Finn didn’t catch it until it was already quite begun, but somewhere along the way it sped from the slow, steady breathing of sleep into something far too fast and half-choked with panic.
“Alden,” Finn whispered, not loudly enough to wake him, hardly enough to stir the air. He propped himself on one elbow, hand hovering helplessly an inch from Alden’s skin.
The man’s face had gone tight, his whole body tensed. Whatever it was, Alden was still firmly asleep, though he was shaking.
Finn knew better than to touch him. Jolting agents out of dreams had the potential for disastrous consequences, especially for the magically inclined. And Alden was very powerful. “Alden,” Finn whispered again. “I’m here; it’s Finn. I’m here, you’re not in danger; nobody’s hunting us.” Not exactly true, but right now true enough.
The man’s eyes snapped open, and he stared unseeingly at Finn for a moment, breathing raggedly. Then something remarkably like shame crossed his face, and he sat up swiftly, half turned away, obviously trying without much success to calm down.
Finn touched his shoulder lightly, hardly a brush of skin.
“Don’t,” Alden whispered. “Just a dream.”
“Yes, well.” Finn swallowed. “You’re still shaking.”
“Damn it,” Alden snarled, and curled in on himself.
“I’m here,” Finn offered softly; stroked his back lightly.
Alden whirled, hands suddenly hard on Finn’s shoulders. “Don’t,” he whispered fiercely, something nearly like panic in his face.
Finn willed himself still. “Why?” he whispered.
Alden dropped his hands rather helplessly. “Because you’re alive,” he said quietly. “That’s enough to be going on now.”
Finn blinked. “I don’t understand. Alden-”
“Look,” said Alden, and ran a distracted hand through his hair. “No. What the hell are you asking?”
“Why can’t I help?” Finn asked calmly, with more coherency than he thought he had.
“Because it doesn’t work that way,” Alden said, and gave a little hunching shrug as though trying to rid himself of something.
Finn knew better, but he reached out anyway, sliding his hands over Alden’s shoulders soothingly. “Why not? Alden, I’m not... offering anything but this. That wouldn’t be fair.”
The man bowed his head. “This is the sort of thing I deal with alone, lad,” he murmured, but he didn’t try to push Finn away this time.
“But I’m here now,” Finn whispered. “Can I help?”
Alden swallowed hard. “Do you know what it was?” he whispered, and laughed mirthlessly. “No. Of course you don’t.”
“No, I don’t.” Finn slipped closer, drawing Alden against his chest; difficult, then, not to be distracted by the man’s skin standing out against his own dark shirt.
“Listen to me,” Alden snapped, his hands on Finn’s shoulders tightening slightly, not nearly enough to hurt. “I-dreamed-you’d died, damn you.” And again, nearly helpless, “Damn you.”
“Well, I didn’t.” Finn rather uselessly nuzzled at his hair-am I allowed that? “You didn’t let me. But you punched me anyway. Alden, Alden,” he whispered, bereft of anything else.
“Because you might have,” Alden mumbled, and wrapped his arms tight around Finn. “Damn you.”
“I didn’t.” Finn felt it was safe to kiss his hair softly, drawing him a bit closer.
“Don’t,” Alden murmured again, and Finn understood that it was merely for the sake of the word, not because he meant it.
“I won’t,” he said anyway. “Die, at least.”
“Good,” Alden whispered fiercely.
“You too,” Finn murmured. “You too.”
They stayed like that, some still, quiet, half-desperate time longer. Then Alden disentangled himself gently, hair gone askew and something strange in his eyes. “And no more of that,” he said quietly.
Finn swallowed. “All right,” he agreed. “Let’s get some food and get to work. I need to know what the whole situation is here so we can get that done and then see about fixing the rest of the mess on our own home front.”
“Right,” Alden said, and stood up rather too quickly. “To work, then. I’ll take you around to the power points, if you think you’re up to it.”
“I am, but you ought to get a shirt on,” Finn suggested wryly.
Alden went a rather interesting shade and gestured briefly, ending up in a rather rumpled dress-shirt. “Check. Food, then?”
“Food,” Finn said fervently, and rolled off the cot to survey the rather impressive culinary array that dotted the cave.
“I expect you’re up for a bit of fruit now.” Finn saw that the man’s hands were still shaking slightly, but the rest of him seemed to be completely under control.
“Anything, really.” Finn didn’t dare toss him anything, and conjured up a plate of assorted foods and (non-alcoholic) hot chocolate.
Alden gave him a rather annoyed look. “No overexpending yourself, lad, not with frivolities like that.” Nevertheless, he went back to Finn and sat beside him, taking a bit of food. “Appetising, though.”
Finn grinned and helped himself. “Let’s get to work.”
It’s the Fall that Kills You
Part Two
Alden awoke with his face pressed comfortably to the back of someone’s neck. His eyes stayed shut for a moment. This was the only nice part, of course. Then he’d remember why it was that he was curled up with someone, and he’d remember who they were, and he’d have to wake up properly, and it would stop being nice at all.
So.
Who was it?
The previous day-two days, point in fact-came rushing back to him, and Alden sat up slowly, very surprised indeed. Finn. Who was still fully clothed, of course, as was Alden. The lad was barely up for anything more than twitching his fingers, really.
And Alden didn’t really want Finn to be the sort of person he usually fucked, even when Finn was entirely better.
Alden sighed, and ran a tired hand over his face, vanishing the beginnings of a beard. That was one of the nicer little perks of having magic, of course. Shaving was a hell of a waste of time.
He was also thinking very silly things. He really did need to start considering what he would do with the lad here; it had interrupted his work nicely enough, though Alden couldn’t bring himself to mind that. Didn’t mind at all.
Not when Finn was alive; warm and breathing evenly, fingers twitching a little in response to some dream. He had bled so much.
But he was alive.
I missed you. Finn’s voice echoed in his head suddenly.
Alden sighed again, and got to his feet. Cot too big. That was rather awkward, sleeping together like this, but Finn probably needed it. Definitely needed it, Alden corrected himself, and winced a bit. He could remember too well the lad’s arms tight around him, Finn’s mouth pressed to the hollow of his throat.
He didn’t want that memory, damn it. Not with Finn so-
Say it. He’s damned beautiful.
Beautiful and damaged. But only damaged on the outside, and beautiful all the way through.
Dammit, what was he thinking? Poetics? Mad. Mad and stupid.
Alden swore again, quietly, and collected a bit of food for himself and Finn, then went back to the cot, sitting down and beginning his own portion. Let the lad sleep. He needed it.
And Alden rather needed some time without the boy awake, quick clever words and those eyes. Damndamndamn.
Finn slept while he looked on; time didn’t matter, just here. There would be things to do when he woke, but Alden had this fragile moment between swimming in sleep and falling through the air, and he was going to savour it, however mad that might be.
Soon enough, though-too soon-Alden had eaten half the food, and it would be foolish to start on yet more bread and meat and water, not when Finn needed it the more. The lad still had to restore all that lost blood.
Alden shook the boy’s shoulder gently. “Wake up, lad.”
Finn made a murmury little sound and blinked sleepily. “What?”
“Rested?” Alden asked, rather idiotically.
Finn smiled, though, and stretched. “Yeah.” He rolled over, wincing, onto his stomach, waving at the food Alden held. “Have you eaten, and that’s what’s left?”
“Yes. All for you and that blood you need back.”
Finn nodded gravely and accepted the bread and jerky, movements slow but not as painful as they had seemed the night before.
“And the water,” Alden added, handing him the flask as well. “I’d give you chocolatl, but I don’t think your immune system is quite up to that.”
“Getting drunk? No, probably not.” The water was gone quickly, along with the food, and Finn settled his head on his arms.
“Not all chocolatl is alcoholic,” Alden said, leaning back against the wall. “The Quechuans did that. It’s an Aztec drink originally-their greatest major export in this world. Excellent economy for it. That’s part of the reason the Inca wants their country as well; lots of wealth in it.” He gave Finn a rueful little grin. “But that’s all politics, and all I was trying to say was that you can get decent chocolate here-even called chocolate-if you go to Britain. However, the point rests that there is only alcoholic Quechuan chocolatl in this cave.”
He realised with faint horror that he was babbling.
But Finn was nodding, and smiling a little. “I’ll have to try it, when I can.” He was quiet for a moment, then said, “But now you should probably tell Meligot that I’m okay, and Julliard as well; he threatened to follow me if I didn’t show up in a week.”
“Good gods,” Alden said in horror, and his computer dropped out of the pocket of otherspace so quickly that he nearly didn’t catch it. “Right to it, lad.”
Finn made an agreeable noise and pillowed his head again.
Alden sighed, and quickly tapped in what needed to be said. Somehow in the last few days T.H.E.Y.’s troubles had become strangely remote. Meligot and Vonnegh, at least, would certainly know what to do, and Meligot was far easier for people to rally around than was he.
For now the important thing was finishing his work here, and getting Finn healed properly.
The boy was dozing again, not tired enough to sleep, but bereft of other tasks and not wishing to disturb Alden.
Alden sighed and vanished his computer. “Finn.”
“Yeah?”
“How’s your back, lad?”
“It hurts a lot. Like what happens when you don’t exercise, and then work out really hard all at once.” Finn sighed softly.
“Ah.” Alden considered for a moment. Finn certainly needed his back worked at a bit. And Alden... didn’t need that. At all. Bad, bad idea, touching the lad that much. He liked the boy, damn it all. It would be inexcusably stupid to let something like physical attraction get in the way of that.
“Good for me to work at it, then,” Alden settled on saying.
“I’d appreciate that.” Finn’s eyes were deeply grateful.
Alden swallowed. “Right, lad.” He slid closer to Finn, looked the boy over carefully. Had he left scars? Damn that. Damndamndamn. “Finn, you’ll have to take off that shirt.”
Finn groaned irritably and the shirt he wore vanished.
Alden winced. That was a pretty lot of scars. He settled his hands on the worst of them, began smoothing them over. Finn’s back shouldn’t be marred so.
Finn’s fingers curled and uncurled in the blankets. “Bad?” he murmured. He already knew the answer, and was tense beneath Alden’s hands.
“Not nearly so bad as it could be,” Alden murmured dryly. The lurid lines were vanishing under his fingertips, though he didn’t mention that; didn’t know what Finn would think of it. “You’ll heal fine.”
“Huh.” Finn relaxed a little. “Thank you,” he whispered.
“None of that,” Alden told him, low-voiced. “This wasn’t a favour.”
“I know. I don’t mean that sort of thanks. Not offhanded like.” Finn’s voice was oddly fervent.
“Very well, then. You’re quite welcome.” Inadequate words. Alden winced slightly, smoothing away the last of the scars, then pressed his thumbs deeper against the boy’s shoulderblades, going for the still-weak muscle beneath.
Finn hissed, then relaxed with a pained little moan, fingers curling tighter in the blankets.
Alden did not apologise; he was pressing softly enough to cause nothing more than superficial pain, but if he went so lightly that it did not hurt Finn, nothing would be mended. He suspected the boy knew this.
He also knew, with a sharp, uncomfortable awareness, that this sort of pain was sometimes pleasurable.
Don’t think about that. But Alden couldn’t just do this, clinical and detached; this was Finn, and Finn was alive, and Alden wanted to touch him. Damndamndamn.
Finn whimpered and hid his face, whispering something Alden couldn’t make out.
He didn’t ask the boy what it was; if Finn wanted him to hear, he would. Instead he concentrated on the task at hand-eased tension out of the muscles, gently knit them better with a touch and a thought, tried very hard not to revel in the feel of Finn’s skin under his fingers.
Finn was limp when he was finally done, swearing softly under his breath. “Thanks,” he said again-the superficial kind of thanks, this time.
Alden didn’t dignify that with an answer, only moved his hands, sat back, put a bit of space between himself and the boy. “Better, then?”
“Yeah.” Finn pulled his shirt back out of nothingness, curled up like a cat on the cot. Must be feeling a lot better, to be able to do that.
“Glad to hear it.” He felt suddenly exhausted; perhaps he’d put more into that little healing than he’d thought.
Finn patted the cot beside him. “You ought to sleep some more. We’ll have to get to work after this.”
Alden blinked at him in faint surprise. “You don’t even know what the hell I’m up to.”
“Yeah I do. You told me, remember?”
“And what did I tell you?” He was tired, but that could wait. “I believe you posited suggestions.”
“Shield around the rainforests. Use the land,” Finn murmured. “Power points-ancient sacred sites work best. There must be hundreds scattered throughout the forest. You could probably extend a shield over most of South and Middle America.”
Alden ran a hand through his hair. “Your memory is certainly better than mine, lad. All right. I’ve been working with the power points-not just a shield, though, but a sort of warning system. That’s all sorts of illegal, of course, and I’ll have to do some delicate diplomatic maneuvering once I’m in contact with the Aztecs and Mayans, but at the moment, the power points are in essence my project.” He felt suddenly horribly tired. “But never mind that now.”
“When you’re rested,” Finn said gently.
“Don’t coddle me,” Alden mumbled, lying down, half-asleep already.
“I’m not. It’s just common sense.” Finn shifted closer.
Alden nearly told him to not come any closer, either, but it didn’t seem quite worth the effort, and he slid into sleep.
He was warm, pressed close against someone strangely nice-smelling-oranges? and chocolate, too-with a bit of slightly scratchy wool blanket rubbing against his cheek. Finn floated between sleep and consciousness, content and safe.
Alden? he thought lazily. The man was very still, save his regular breathing, nearly soothing enough to send Finn back into sleep.
Alden. Finn smiled softly. Safe.
The man’s breathing changed. It was not a fast transformation, and Finn didn’t catch it until it was already quite begun, but somewhere along the way it sped from the slow, steady breathing of sleep into something far too fast and half-choked with panic.
“Alden,” Finn whispered, not loudly enough to wake him, hardly enough to stir the air. He propped himself on one elbow, hand hovering helplessly an inch from Alden’s skin.
The man’s face had gone tight, his whole body tensed. Whatever it was, Alden was still firmly asleep, though he was shaking.
Finn knew better than to touch him. Jolting agents out of dreams had the potential for disastrous consequences, especially for the magically inclined. And Alden was very powerful. “Alden,” Finn whispered again. “I’m here; it’s Finn. I’m here, you’re not in danger; nobody’s hunting us.” Not exactly true, but right now true enough.
The man’s eyes snapped open, and he stared unseeingly at Finn for a moment, breathing raggedly. Then something remarkably like shame crossed his face, and he sat up swiftly, half turned away, obviously trying without much success to calm down.
Finn touched his shoulder lightly, hardly a brush of skin.
“Don’t,” Alden whispered. “Just a dream.”
“Yes, well.” Finn swallowed. “You’re still shaking.”
“Damn it,” Alden snarled, and curled in on himself.
“I’m here,” Finn offered softly; stroked his back lightly.
Alden whirled, hands suddenly hard on Finn’s shoulders. “Don’t,” he whispered fiercely, something nearly like panic in his face.
Finn willed himself still. “Why?” he whispered.
Alden dropped his hands rather helplessly. “Because you’re alive,” he said quietly. “That’s enough to be going on now.”
Finn blinked. “I don’t understand. Alden-”
“Look,” said Alden, and ran a distracted hand through his hair. “No. What the hell are you asking?”
“Why can’t I help?” Finn asked calmly, with more coherency than he thought he had.
“Because it doesn’t work that way,” Alden said, and gave a little hunching shrug as though trying to rid himself of something.
Finn knew better, but he reached out anyway, sliding his hands over Alden’s shoulders soothingly. “Why not? Alden, I’m not... offering anything but this. That wouldn’t be fair.”
The man bowed his head. “This is the sort of thing I deal with alone, lad,” he murmured, but he didn’t try to push Finn away this time.
“But I’m here now,” Finn whispered. “Can I help?”
Alden swallowed hard. “Do you know what it was?” he whispered, and laughed mirthlessly. “No. Of course you don’t.”
“No, I don’t.” Finn slipped closer, drawing Alden against his chest; difficult, then, not to be distracted by the man’s skin standing out against his own dark shirt.
“Listen to me,” Alden snapped, his hands on Finn’s shoulders tightening slightly, not nearly enough to hurt. “I-dreamed-you’d died, damn you.” And again, nearly helpless, “Damn you.”
“Well, I didn’t.” Finn rather uselessly nuzzled at his hair-am I allowed that? “You didn’t let me. But you punched me anyway. Alden, Alden,” he whispered, bereft of anything else.
“Because you might have,” Alden mumbled, and wrapped his arms tight around Finn. “Damn you.”
“I didn’t.” Finn felt it was safe to kiss his hair softly, drawing him a bit closer.
“Don’t,” Alden murmured again, and Finn understood that it was merely for the sake of the word, not because he meant it.
“I won’t,” he said anyway. “Die, at least.”
“Good,” Alden whispered fiercely.
“You too,” Finn murmured. “You too.”
They stayed like that, some still, quiet, half-desperate time longer. Then Alden disentangled himself gently, hair gone askew and something strange in his eyes. “And no more of that,” he said quietly.
Finn swallowed. “All right,” he agreed. “Let’s get some food and get to work. I need to know what the whole situation is here so we can get that done and then see about fixing the rest of the mess on our own home front.”
“Right,” Alden said, and stood up rather too quickly. “To work, then. I’ll take you around to the power points, if you think you’re up to it.”
“I am, but you ought to get a shirt on,” Finn suggested wryly.
Alden went a rather interesting shade and gestured briefly, ending up in a rather rumpled dress-shirt. “Check. Food, then?”
“Food,” Finn said fervently, and rolled off the cot to survey the rather impressive culinary array that dotted the cave.
“I expect you’re up for a bit of fruit now.” Finn saw that the man’s hands were still shaking slightly, but the rest of him seemed to be completely under control.
“Anything, really.” Finn didn’t dare toss him anything, and conjured up a plate of assorted foods and (non-alcoholic) hot chocolate.
Alden gave him a rather annoyed look. “No overexpending yourself, lad, not with frivolities like that.” Nevertheless, he went back to Finn and sat beside him, taking a bit of food. “Appetising, though.”
Finn grinned and helped himself. “Let’s get to work.”