A Friend In Need
Title: A Friend in Need
Author: robinfanatic
Characters: Allan, Much
Rating: PG
Genre: gen
Words: 1060
Disclaimer: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe
Notes: Written for rh_intercomm Challenge. Spoilers for 3x09.
Summary: Allan knows that Much needs a bit of cheering up.
A Friend in Need
by robinfanatic
Allan sat by the campfire and eyed Much. His friend looked tired. More than that he was upset. Banging pans around, muttering under his breath. Come to think of it, Much did that a lot when he was in the kitchen. Conversation--usually one-sided--mingled with the clatter to ensure everyone knew exactly what he was doing and how hard he was working for them all. But he rarely looked quite so...annoyed.
Allan stood up and stretched. He knew the source of Much's annoyance. Couldn't blame him. But watching him was almost painful. And since he was a bit annoyed with Robin himself, he wasn't going to let Much wallow in unhappiness. "Oi, mate. Why so quiet?"
Much impatiently stabbed the meat he was preparing for a later than usual evening meal. "I am making dinner."
"Yeah." Allan cleared his throat.
"Can't I do that quietly?"
"Guess I miss hearin' your voice is all. Who woulda' thought, eh?" Allan wandered toward the camp kitchen. He wanted to cheer his friend, but he didn't want to get too close while he had a sharp instrument in his hand. "So what 'appened?"
"You mean earlier today when I was supposed to take the cart with Thornton's treasure?"
Allan could see from the expression on Much's face that he knew that was exactly what he meant. "You were watching Kate and Robin," he said.
Much stopped the blade in mid-chop. He tipped his head from side to side then sighed deeply. "How do you stop worrying--stop caring--about someone?
"I don't think you do," Allan said, regret dripping from his words no louder than a whisper.
Much heard the sadness in Allan's voice and met his eyes. "Djaq," he said quietly. "You still think about Djaq, don't you?"
Allan ran his hand through his hair. He'd known a lot of women in his twenty-eight years but their names and faces were lost in one-night stands, not one he would've called friend nor thought of as lover. But Djaq--fighter, trickster, smarter than any man he knew. Compassionate. The gentleness in her voice, the way she comforted him when his brother died--he would never forget her touch. "She had the prettiest, darkest eyes, dinnit she?" Her eyes reminded him of an ebony stone in a necklace he and Tom once pocketed from a lady in Oxford. "When they caught in the firelight they sparkled."
"Did you ever tell her that? Did you tell her she was perfect?" Much asked, remembering Allan's advice that he tried to use to woo Kate.
"'Course not!"
"Why not?"
"Too busy playin' games, I guess..." Allan's voice trailed off.
"If you hadn't betrayed the gang--"
"Yeah, we know I messed that one up, dinnit I? But Will liked Djaq anyway." He shook his head. He'd never ruin a friendship because of a woman. "Worked out for them."
"So that's it? You just ignore your own feelings--"
"And move on. Yeah," Allan nodded, "that's what ya' gotta do, mate."
"What about Kate? You like her, too."
"Don't really care for girls with blond 'air, ya' know, not in that way."
"In that way?" Much asked innocently.
Allan ignored the opportunity to talk about other blonds he had known, and he had known quite a few. He doubted that would cheer up Much, and it only reminded him of loves he'd never had. Much wasn't all innocent--leastwise he didn't think he was. He could save those stories for another time when the mead flowed and his tongue was looser. "She thought my neck was too long!" he exclaimed with feigned outrage. "'Sides, you seen her first, and I knew how you felt. Me 'n Kate 'ad some laughs, joked about a bit, but I did it to 'elp you see her sights weren't set on you." Allan grabbed the flask sitting by Much's chopping board and took a swig. "Ya' know, I don't think it's true what they say."
"What's that?"
"Best man doesn't always win. Look, I'm sorry, mate. Robin should be thinkin' about your feelings instead of what's in his--"
"Could we just...just not talk about it?"
"Sure." Allan eyed the pot of stew. "Looks good."
"The others better get back soon," Much said. "Did Robin say where he was headed after you shipped Thornton off to the asylum?"
"That Thornton...'e looked a bit upset wif' that gag in 'is mouth. Shoulda' seen 'im," Allan laughed. "Robin and Tuck headed to Locksley to get Kate. John should be back from the castle soon. I hope Robin is right about trustin' Isabella. She's got a wicked streak in her, ya' know. Wouldn't turn my back on 'er...not for one second. 'Nuf of that." He took another swig of mead. "If they don't show up, there will be more stew for you and me."
"It's the last of the chicken we got in Nettlestone."
Allan ignored his usual inclination to scan the trees to see Much squirm and deny that squirrels were a regular part of their diet. "Well, you wake me up in the mornin' and I'll help you hunt for tomorrow's meal. Maybe we'll catch us a boar!"
Much's face scrunched into a frown. He waited for the squirrel comment but when Allan tossed him a 'what?', he just nodded. "We haven't had boar in a while. I do like boar. Not as much as roast pig, mind you, all fattened up in the farmer's pens. Boar can be a bit tougher. I can smell it already, roasting over the fire. Fresh herbs. And we'll have enough bread to--" Much stopped when he noticed Allan's huge smile. "What?" he pouted.
"That's more like it. You talkin' up a storm! I can die and go to Valhalla a happy man!"
"Oi!" Much stirred the stew and added a bit more seasoning. "Valhalla doesn't have quite the same ring to it. Die and go to heaven." Much nodded that funny little sideways nod that endeared him to the gang...well to all but maybe Kate. "Much better."
"You're right, mate!" Allan grabbed the ladle from Much and stirred their dinner. "Tuck can take his Norsemen and Valhalla and go--"
"Allan!" Much admonished the former poacher. Much turned his eyes toward the skies then suddenly burst out laughing. He'd made Much smile and it felt good.
Author: robinfanatic
Characters: Allan, Much
Rating: PG
Genre: gen
Words: 1060
Disclaimer: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe
Notes: Written for rh_intercomm Challenge. Spoilers for 3x09.
Summary: Allan knows that Much needs a bit of cheering up.
A Friend in Need
by robinfanatic
Allan sat by the campfire and eyed Much. His friend looked tired. More than that he was upset. Banging pans around, muttering under his breath. Come to think of it, Much did that a lot when he was in the kitchen. Conversation--usually one-sided--mingled with the clatter to ensure everyone knew exactly what he was doing and how hard he was working for them all. But he rarely looked quite so...annoyed.
Allan stood up and stretched. He knew the source of Much's annoyance. Couldn't blame him. But watching him was almost painful. And since he was a bit annoyed with Robin himself, he wasn't going to let Much wallow in unhappiness. "Oi, mate. Why so quiet?"
Much impatiently stabbed the meat he was preparing for a later than usual evening meal. "I am making dinner."
"Yeah." Allan cleared his throat.
"Can't I do that quietly?"
"Guess I miss hearin' your voice is all. Who woulda' thought, eh?" Allan wandered toward the camp kitchen. He wanted to cheer his friend, but he didn't want to get too close while he had a sharp instrument in his hand. "So what 'appened?"
"You mean earlier today when I was supposed to take the cart with Thornton's treasure?"
Allan could see from the expression on Much's face that he knew that was exactly what he meant. "You were watching Kate and Robin," he said.
Much stopped the blade in mid-chop. He tipped his head from side to side then sighed deeply. "How do you stop worrying--stop caring--about someone?
"I don't think you do," Allan said, regret dripping from his words no louder than a whisper.
Much heard the sadness in Allan's voice and met his eyes. "Djaq," he said quietly. "You still think about Djaq, don't you?"
Allan ran his hand through his hair. He'd known a lot of women in his twenty-eight years but their names and faces were lost in one-night stands, not one he would've called friend nor thought of as lover. But Djaq--fighter, trickster, smarter than any man he knew. Compassionate. The gentleness in her voice, the way she comforted him when his brother died--he would never forget her touch. "She had the prettiest, darkest eyes, dinnit she?" Her eyes reminded him of an ebony stone in a necklace he and Tom once pocketed from a lady in Oxford. "When they caught in the firelight they sparkled."
"Did you ever tell her that? Did you tell her she was perfect?" Much asked, remembering Allan's advice that he tried to use to woo Kate.
"'Course not!"
"Why not?"
"Too busy playin' games, I guess..." Allan's voice trailed off.
"If you hadn't betrayed the gang--"
"Yeah, we know I messed that one up, dinnit I? But Will liked Djaq anyway." He shook his head. He'd never ruin a friendship because of a woman. "Worked out for them."
"So that's it? You just ignore your own feelings--"
"And move on. Yeah," Allan nodded, "that's what ya' gotta do, mate."
"What about Kate? You like her, too."
"Don't really care for girls with blond 'air, ya' know, not in that way."
"In that way?" Much asked innocently.
Allan ignored the opportunity to talk about other blonds he had known, and he had known quite a few. He doubted that would cheer up Much, and it only reminded him of loves he'd never had. Much wasn't all innocent--leastwise he didn't think he was. He could save those stories for another time when the mead flowed and his tongue was looser. "She thought my neck was too long!" he exclaimed with feigned outrage. "'Sides, you seen her first, and I knew how you felt. Me 'n Kate 'ad some laughs, joked about a bit, but I did it to 'elp you see her sights weren't set on you." Allan grabbed the flask sitting by Much's chopping board and took a swig. "Ya' know, I don't think it's true what they say."
"What's that?"
"Best man doesn't always win. Look, I'm sorry, mate. Robin should be thinkin' about your feelings instead of what's in his--"
"Could we just...just not talk about it?"
"Sure." Allan eyed the pot of stew. "Looks good."
"The others better get back soon," Much said. "Did Robin say where he was headed after you shipped Thornton off to the asylum?"
"That Thornton...'e looked a bit upset wif' that gag in 'is mouth. Shoulda' seen 'im," Allan laughed. "Robin and Tuck headed to Locksley to get Kate. John should be back from the castle soon. I hope Robin is right about trustin' Isabella. She's got a wicked streak in her, ya' know. Wouldn't turn my back on 'er...not for one second. 'Nuf of that." He took another swig of mead. "If they don't show up, there will be more stew for you and me."
"It's the last of the chicken we got in Nettlestone."
Allan ignored his usual inclination to scan the trees to see Much squirm and deny that squirrels were a regular part of their diet. "Well, you wake me up in the mornin' and I'll help you hunt for tomorrow's meal. Maybe we'll catch us a boar!"
Much's face scrunched into a frown. He waited for the squirrel comment but when Allan tossed him a 'what?', he just nodded. "We haven't had boar in a while. I do like boar. Not as much as roast pig, mind you, all fattened up in the farmer's pens. Boar can be a bit tougher. I can smell it already, roasting over the fire. Fresh herbs. And we'll have enough bread to--" Much stopped when he noticed Allan's huge smile. "What?" he pouted.
"That's more like it. You talkin' up a storm! I can die and go to Valhalla a happy man!"
"Oi!" Much stirred the stew and added a bit more seasoning. "Valhalla doesn't have quite the same ring to it. Die and go to heaven." Much nodded that funny little sideways nod that endeared him to the gang...well to all but maybe Kate. "Much better."
"You're right, mate!" Allan grabbed the ladle from Much and stirred their dinner. "Tuck can take his Norsemen and Valhalla and go--"
"Allan!" Much admonished the former poacher. Much turned his eyes toward the skies then suddenly burst out laughing. He'd made Much smile and it felt good.