(Author's Note: Hey everybody! This is my first ever FanFiction so reviews are much appreciated. Although I sadly don't own any of these glorious characters, I'll entertain myself by playing with them. Read and enjoy!)
Chapter One: Simply Addicted
He knew he should have stopped doing this. He knew it would only end badly, with both facing trouble on their own sides if they were caught. But, despite the knowledge that this would inevitably end badly, he couldn't stop. He didn't want to stop. He was truly addicted to her and he knew he never wanted a cure.
The rain continued to pour down upon the world and Allan hurried under the canopy of the nearest shop, splashing mud into his boots and drawing his cloak tighter to his shivering form. Winter had never agreed with Allan. Avoiding eye contact with the shop-keeper before she could thrust her wares upon him, Allan hustled across the puddle filled path towards the pub bearing the name The Golden Arrow.
"No doubt in honor of Sherwood's greatest outlaw", Allan muttered to himself as he quickly stepped inside. Immediately a wave of warmth came over the once companion of Robin Hood. Despite the overwhelming desire to do so, Allan did not draw back the hood of his cloak. The last thing he needed was to draw attention to himself.
Allan walked forward with the skill of one who knew how to be unseen. Without gaining any looks from the current customers, he stepped up to the bar to speak with Tom, owner of The Golden Arrow.
"Hello sir, anythin' I can do for you today?" said Tom as he wiped out a dirty glass with an even dirtier rag.
"Yes sir. I was hoping to rent out a room for the night. Any space left for a weary traveler hoping to escape the rain?" Allan kept his head bent down towards the worn oak table of the bar, passing a small leather purse towards the balding barman. Tom placed the glass he was attempting to clean onto the bar and reached for Allan's purse. He brought it close to his ear and, after giving it a good shake, gave Allan a wide, toothless grin.
"Of course good sir, Ole Tom can fix you up no problem. Weary traveler you say? And where might you be coming in from?" Tom craned his neck conspicuously as if trying to see under Allan's hood.
"I don't mean to disappoint Tom, but I would appreciate it if I could keep my business to myself. However, a friend of mine who lives nearby is going to meet me later. If they ask for a Jonathon Ashton, would you be so kind as to send them to my room?" Allan withdrew another coin from his breeches pocket and flipped it to Tom who caught it in his palm.
"Aye Master Ashton, not a problem with me. If you'd grab a seat somewhere I'll have my daughter Melissa set you up with a supper while my wife Elizabeth fixes you a room." Tom nodded to Allan one last time and moved on to a new customer further down the bar.
Swiveling on his stool Allan scanned the room looking for a secluded spot to wait for his room to be finished. Finding a spot close to the fire, without being too close to the center of the room, Allan stood and walked to his table swiftly, narrowly avoiding collision with a drunken man singing and leaving the bar. As he took his seat, Allan relaxed and took in his surroundings.
A group of three white haired men sat in the table next to him, arguing heatedly about the best place to purchase livestock. "I'm telling you", the man nearest to Allan shouted, most likely due to his lack of hearing, "Farmer Dole has got shit fer sale and prices it as if it were fit fer King Richard himself! That arse should be thrown in jail, robbin' the people of their wages for some rotten pieces of what he calls meat." This statement did nothing to settle the other two men, and the argument continued on. Allan then looked to the table in front of his, watching a game of cards begin.
I could use a nice game of cards. Earn me some extra money; God knows I could clean every one of those poor bastards out. Allan watched intently the moves of the card dealer, and chuckled lightly as the man slipped a card out of his sleeve and into his own pile. Amateur, Allan thought to himself. Then again, thievery and the like were what got Allan into his current mess of a situation. Maybe it was best to lay off it for a while. Fat chance of that happening.
Turning from the cheaters' table, Allan glanced at the table to his right. A large man sat in a chair much too small for him, the legs bending under his massive weight. Allan could see the leather belt he wore strained at its spot on the last hole, pushing past the point of breaking. A large beer belly hung over the belt, protruding out massively where it met the edge of the table. The man ate as if he was starved, shoveling ripped chunks of bread and meat into his cavernous mouth and dropping bits into his black greasy beard. Joining the bits were large drops of ale, running down the sides of the man's mouth as he slurped noisily. Ugh. At least I know I'm not that bad. Hell, being called a traitor I can handle. But looking like a fat slob like that? I'd rather just be killed.
In the center of the room, Allan watched a young handsome man flirt heavily with a buxom red head. Her breasts close to spilling out of her overly tight bodice, the red head plopped herself onto the man's lap, urging his hand up her skirts and into her thigh. Her laughter rang out like church bells, but God knows church was the last place you would find her.
"Ahem." Allan's eyes quickly darted to his right, seeing a slight blonde standing holding a tankard and a plate of food. "Hello sir, I'm Melissa, Tom's daughter. I'm sorry for the wait on your supper but it's rather busy tonight." Melissa, obviously unnerved by Allan's odd and secretive mannerisms, hastily dropped the plate in front of him and hurried off with a quiet "call if you need me". Allan tucked in to the hearty beef stew that steamed in front of him and continued to wait for his room to be ready.
An hour later, Allan finally threw back his hood as he entered the room that Elizabeth has prepared for him. A fire blazed in the fireplace and new white sheets were tightly draw across a small, simple bed. A large bowl sat on a table next to a ceramic pitcher decorated with blue and white flowers. Pouring water from the pitcher, Allan washed his face and hands in the icy cold. Refreshed and ready, he took off his cloak and boots and stretched out on the bed. There, he would wait. With his arms folded behind his bed, Allan looked up at the wooden beams criss-crossing over the ceiling. Through the closed window he could hear the constant pitter patter of falling rain.
God I hope she comes. What an arse I am for asking her to come see me in the rain. I had to see her though, it's been nearly three weeks since I saw her last. Minutes ticked by and as the sky began to darken, Allan began to worry. Jesus what did I do. What if she got caught? Hurt? Somehow in trouble? Lord knows she's always in trouble that woman. Worse…what if she didn't want to come? Changed her mind? I'm surprised she's done this for this long anyway, Hell I'm surprised she's done this at all. If it were anyone else, they would've given up on me. But please not her, not yet. I need her. God knows I need her.
Just as he was about to turn over and give up hope, the door creaked softly. Jumping up from his spot on the bed, Allan felt his heart jump in his chest as he looked at her. She came. Sweet Jesus, she came.
There she stood in the doorway, droplets of rain dripping down from the curls at the base of her neck and sliding over her ever-tanned skin. Deep brown eyes stared back at him, swallowing him whole into their warm depths. He could see the goose bumps that covered her visible skin, and her tongue whipped out to quickly moisten her parted lips. Allan felt his spine tingle at the sight, his blood rushing faster in his body. After all the waiting, he just couldn't wait anymore. Taking one tentative step forward, Allan simply uttered one word before sweeping her into his arms and pressing his mouth to hers, warming her frozen lips.
"Djaq."