Fic battle Fic 3 - Richard/Melrose
Title: A Solitary Man
Author: tinx_r
Fandom: Richard Jury Mysteries
Genre/Rating: Slash/PG
Wordcount: 740
Pairing/Characters: Richard/Melrose
Notes: For rileyc's prompt in the Fic battle, Melrose remembers Jury's birthday.
Summary: Every relationship Richard attempted went wrong. Even this one.
Richard Jury had yielded to Carole-anne's blandishments and joined her at The Angel, but as he walked home, he had to admit he'd have enjoyed the solitary peace of his flat more.
He'd left her there, dressed in a short, purple skirt that drew shocked glances and appreciative stares in equal measures, her eyes dancing along with her feet. Stan was there, a captive audience to Carole-anne's butterfly antics, and Jury thought he wouldn't be missed.
He couldn't decide if he minded.
The idea of another birthday was depressing, the years piling at his door like so many wasted, fallen leaves. Now and then one skipped in the wind, an illusion of joy quickly dispelled, dropping dormant in amongst its peers. It wasn't worth celebrating, Jury decided, shrugging deeper into his muffler.
They'd called him, earlier, Diane and Trueblood and Melrose, from the convivial fireside of the Jack and Hammer, toasting him cheerfully across the miles. Their laughter, gaiety coming loud and clear down the heedless wires that hid - almost - the silences where the words he had for Plant should have been.
Sunday evening, leaving for the city, Melrose stiff and awkward, himself so brusque, so cold. After the last week's idyll, the discovery of each other, he'd allowed himself to think, for a brief few days, that this was it. This was why he'd lived so long, taken the path he had.
But then the idyll at Ardry End had run its course. Other people intruded in their sanctuary, first Agatha, then Vivian arriving unexpectedly, her eyes lingering between them in a way Richard wanted to ignore.
He'd taken Racer's call with something like relief, taking refuge in coldness and familiar loneliness, pushing away Plant's warmth, shutting the lid on the thing they'd found.
Perversely, the cold aloneness of the flat fitted him, almost comforting. He knew this, he knew how to be this Jury, solitary and perhaps a little grim. Last week's man had been a stranger, the one who'd laughed so readily, touched so freely. Allowed himself to take so much.
That wasn't him. Jury took a deep breath of the clear, cold air, and let himself into the building. Another mistake in a long line of them, but God willing, it would be his last.
"Happy birthday, Richard."
The voice came from the shadows as Jury's key snicked in the lock, and he turned in surprise. Hope flared in his chest, unbidden, uninvited, but unable to be denied, and Melrose stepped out into the pale light of the hallway.
"Plant." Jury's breath caught in his throat. "You're at the Jack and Hammer," he said stupidly.
Melrose hesitated, looking at him with a sort of quiet determination, tinged with sorrow. "I have a fast car," he said simply, and waited.
"I don't..." Richard Jury stopped, lost for words. "You came," he said, finally, dropping his hands to his sides. The door to the flat creaked softly open, and light spilled out, pooling on the floor between them.
"Richard, of course I came." Melrose stiffened like a pointer, tense and quivering for a moment, then stepped forward into the beam of light. "Damn it, I care! I had no idea, not until you started this, and by God, Richard, I'm damned if I'll let you stop it, without so much as a by-your-leave."
Jury trembled. Plant looked so fierce, so sure, and it would be so easy to let himself believe. Let himself take that too. "I don't know if I can," he said, hearing the wobble in his own voice. "I... Melrose, I just don't think I know how."
Melrose nodded, a little of the fire fading from his eyes, and then slowly he held one hand out to Jury. "The thing is," he said, almost diffidently, "is that I think I do, Richard. And if you'll just let me show you, if you'll trust me... please."
Without conscious thought, Richard stepped forward, into the beam of light, and took the hand that Melrose offered. He did trust Plant, he had since the day they'd met. That was one thing that had never been up for question.
Jury smiled a little, and nodded. In this, as in so many things before, he realized he would be wise to trust the judgement of this man above his own. "Plant," he said, "I'm sorry."
Melrose Plant smiled. "Apology accepted," he said. "Now aren't you going to invite me in?"
Author: tinx_r
Fandom: Richard Jury Mysteries
Genre/Rating: Slash/PG
Wordcount: 740
Pairing/Characters: Richard/Melrose
Notes: For rileyc's prompt in the Fic battle, Melrose remembers Jury's birthday.
Summary: Every relationship Richard attempted went wrong. Even this one.
Richard Jury had yielded to Carole-anne's blandishments and joined her at The Angel, but as he walked home, he had to admit he'd have enjoyed the solitary peace of his flat more.
He'd left her there, dressed in a short, purple skirt that drew shocked glances and appreciative stares in equal measures, her eyes dancing along with her feet. Stan was there, a captive audience to Carole-anne's butterfly antics, and Jury thought he wouldn't be missed.
He couldn't decide if he minded.
The idea of another birthday was depressing, the years piling at his door like so many wasted, fallen leaves. Now and then one skipped in the wind, an illusion of joy quickly dispelled, dropping dormant in amongst its peers. It wasn't worth celebrating, Jury decided, shrugging deeper into his muffler.
They'd called him, earlier, Diane and Trueblood and Melrose, from the convivial fireside of the Jack and Hammer, toasting him cheerfully across the miles. Their laughter, gaiety coming loud and clear down the heedless wires that hid - almost - the silences where the words he had for Plant should have been.
Sunday evening, leaving for the city, Melrose stiff and awkward, himself so brusque, so cold. After the last week's idyll, the discovery of each other, he'd allowed himself to think, for a brief few days, that this was it. This was why he'd lived so long, taken the path he had.
But then the idyll at Ardry End had run its course. Other people intruded in their sanctuary, first Agatha, then Vivian arriving unexpectedly, her eyes lingering between them in a way Richard wanted to ignore.
He'd taken Racer's call with something like relief, taking refuge in coldness and familiar loneliness, pushing away Plant's warmth, shutting the lid on the thing they'd found.
Perversely, the cold aloneness of the flat fitted him, almost comforting. He knew this, he knew how to be this Jury, solitary and perhaps a little grim. Last week's man had been a stranger, the one who'd laughed so readily, touched so freely. Allowed himself to take so much.
That wasn't him. Jury took a deep breath of the clear, cold air, and let himself into the building. Another mistake in a long line of them, but God willing, it would be his last.
"Happy birthday, Richard."
The voice came from the shadows as Jury's key snicked in the lock, and he turned in surprise. Hope flared in his chest, unbidden, uninvited, but unable to be denied, and Melrose stepped out into the pale light of the hallway.
"Plant." Jury's breath caught in his throat. "You're at the Jack and Hammer," he said stupidly.
Melrose hesitated, looking at him with a sort of quiet determination, tinged with sorrow. "I have a fast car," he said simply, and waited.
"I don't..." Richard Jury stopped, lost for words. "You came," he said, finally, dropping his hands to his sides. The door to the flat creaked softly open, and light spilled out, pooling on the floor between them.
"Richard, of course I came." Melrose stiffened like a pointer, tense and quivering for a moment, then stepped forward into the beam of light. "Damn it, I care! I had no idea, not until you started this, and by God, Richard, I'm damned if I'll let you stop it, without so much as a by-your-leave."
Jury trembled. Plant looked so fierce, so sure, and it would be so easy to let himself believe. Let himself take that too. "I don't know if I can," he said, hearing the wobble in his own voice. "I... Melrose, I just don't think I know how."
Melrose nodded, a little of the fire fading from his eyes, and then slowly he held one hand out to Jury. "The thing is," he said, almost diffidently, "is that I think I do, Richard. And if you'll just let me show you, if you'll trust me... please."
Without conscious thought, Richard stepped forward, into the beam of light, and took the hand that Melrose offered. He did trust Plant, he had since the day they'd met. That was one thing that had never been up for question.
Jury smiled a little, and nodded. In this, as in so many things before, he realized he would be wise to trust the judgement of this man above his own. "Plant," he said, "I'm sorry."
Melrose Plant smiled. "Apology accepted," he said. "Now aren't you going to invite me in?"