Today

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the books in the Knight and Rogue series. If I did, do you think I would I really be writing fanfic?

Rating: T (for this chapter at least): talk of sex/sexual implications, maleXmale, slight language, and violence (also slight)

Well, it's been a while since I read the Knight and Rogue series, but since I finally got nii-san to read the first one (at least) I felt I had to write some slash for it, that and the fact that I just now realized there was a category for it. Since it's been a while since I read it, there's most likely going to be a lot of accidental OOCness, and for that I apologize profusely *bows head in shame*, but I desperately feel the need to put more Michael/Fisk out into the world (even if it's not that well written or conceived). I hope it's not too bad!

Also thank you nii-san (P3 Dude) for providing the summary and title!

"For the last time, I said I'm fine, Noble Sir", Fisk angrily shoved Michael away as he attempted to check the makeshift dressing on his shoulder for about the tenth time in the past hour.

His squire had a right to be mad, Michael couldn't help but concede. It was of course his fault (as always) that they were in this situation. Locked up in the basement of some abandoned building, beaten, injured, and most likely about to be killed by the powerful drug lord Michael had been so intent on bringing to justice- something Fisk had not failed to mention (quite a few times) was just about one of the stupidest things he had ever done. But he was just worried!

Five or six of the drug lord's goons had jumped them on that night on their way back to the inn they were staying in. During the skirmish, which was rather short-lived outnumbered and caught off guard as they were, Fisk had been stabbed in the shoulder. He supposed they should be thankful it was the worst of their injuries- something that was more then a bit surprising as one would think men like these would just kill them on the spot, and of course brought about the rather unsettling question of what they did plan on doing with them. Properly treated, it would not necessarily be life threatening, but still, it was a very deep wound and had bled terribly. And it still seemed to be causing Fisk quite a bit of pain, though he refused to admit it.

It was rather strange now that he thought of it. In these sorts of situations, it always seemed to be Michael who was injured or in peril, and the knight errant couldn't help but feel bad for his friend now that he'd gotten a taste of what the other side of it was like.

Shortly after they had first been locked up in here, Fisk had fainted from either pain or blood loss, and for one brief but terrible moment Michael had thought he was dead. The utter horror of that moment was nothing he ever wanted the displeasure of reliving.

"Does it still hurt? Tis not bleeding again, is it?" Michael tried once more to check the wound, but Fisk shrugged away from him, wincing in pain and cursing under his breath when the movement aggravated his injury.

"Of course it still hurts! And perhaps it would stop bleeding if someone would stop making me move", the rogue retorted through clenched teeth, clutching his shoulder, which Michael saw now, was in fact bleeding once more.

The knight errant frowned, biting his lip worriedly. Fisk had already lost quite a bit of blood. Even in the extremely dim light of the one candle they had found amongst other rubbish down here, Michael could see that the rogue's face was quite a bit paler and though he tried to hide it, had started to shiver slightly. In his weakened state he doubted his friend would even be able to stand unassisted. He had considered looking for a needle and thread amongst the cluttered items to try stitching the wound shut, but with nothing to sterilize them with, it would most likely do more harm then good especially with anything he might find within all this dirt and dust.

Gods, he felt so utterly helpless. And again, he felt a pang of sympathy for Fisk for the times the situation had been reversed.

"Stop your damn worrying. You look more pathetic then I do, and its making it hard for me to stay mad at you." The flare of pain evidently having passed, the rogue's expression softened, and his right hand's grip on his left shoulder loosened falling back to his side his voice taking on a softer sympathetic tone as a sort of counter to the slightly harsh choice of words, making them sound more teasing then angry really. "Its really not that bad. I'm sure it only feels like I'm dying."

Michael couldn't help but smile. It was obvious that Fisk was trying to make him feel better. The rogue could be downright sweet at times even if he didn't quite show it openly or would even admit to it if it was brought up later. He supposed it was only natural. His friend had led a tough life, had been forced to grow up much too fast, his life of crime teaching him to be cynical and trust no one. But it was these rare moments where his natural kindness and good-naturedness shown through that made Michael hopeful for a day when the two of them could truly be completely intimate with each other.

"Completely intimate"

The knight errant felt a blush creep up on his face at the way he had inadvertently phrased that last thought. A wide range of mental images assaulted him, none of which should be described in polite company and he had to quickly turn away as he felt his blush deepen. All he had meant was that he wanted the two of them to be close friends, comrades! Not… not… that! As if in protest to the admonishment, one image came back even clearer then before. The two of them naked, kissing, touching, caressing, and- Horrified by what his own imagination had produced, Michael quickly squashed down the thought, frantically trying to think of something- anything else.

Fisk raised an eyebrow, looking at the back of his friend's suddenly turned head. "Problems?"

"N-no, I- umm- Nothing!" Damn, that was the best response he could come up with? Michael still didn't turn around, and could feel his friends eyes boring into the back of his skull. He was suddenly glad for the dim lighting, as it made it much harder to notice the growing bulge in his trousers, though he still self-consciously moved his hands to his lap in an attempt to hide it just in case.

"I- I mean", turning around, but still not meeting his friend's eyes the knight errant nervously cleared his throat, "tis nothing. I just…" He trailed off. I just what? Was thinking of us sleeping together, and it distracted me? He could still feel Fisk staring at him, and he knew he had to look like a complete mad man right now, but he couldn't for the life of him think of any excuse to cover for his behavior, and being in such close proximity to Fisk in such a dark room was not helping the situation in the slightest.

Michael straightened slightly, mentally shaking his head as he did his best to regain his composure. "Umm, so you are sure your injury is fine?"

"As fine as it's going to be, but I think we should be more worried about your injury, Noble Sir. You seem to have taken a rather harsh blow to the head. How many fingers am I holding up?"

Michael involuntarily blushed as the fingers were shoved in his face. He knew where he would like those fingers to be- oh gods, stop thinking about that!

And then to his horror, Michael heard rather then felt himself blurt out "Fisk, may I kiss you?"

A long silence filled the dark room. Fisk's mouth opened as if he was about to say something, but no words came out. Unsuccessful in getting anything out, he closed it, blinking incredulously at his friend, who remained silent as well, looking to be just as shocked by his own request.

"Wha… Why…?" Fisk tried again, slightly more successful this time around, if not expressing everything that was going through his head right now, at least getting down to the main point of it.

"I-I apologize! I don't know what I'm saying! Tis merely stress, I'm sure!", Michael replied hurriedly. Suddenly snapping out of the initial shock that had left him speechless, words now poured out his mouth in an almost unintelligible stream. He could feel that he was blushing again, but somehow that seemed to be the least of his problems right now. How could he have said that? Fisk must now think him to be insane, or some kind of pervert. "Ah, um, perhaps you were right. I must have been hit on the head. Yes of course, that must be it!"

The knight errant gave his friend a rather unconvincing reassuring smile. One the rogue didn't seem to be buying by his expression which had "oh really?" written all over it.

Fisk sighed, running his hand- of his uninjured arm- through his hair trying to collect his thoughts before replying slowly, "Why…", he paused for a moment, the preposterousness of the situation seeming to have put him at a loss for words, taking a second before he could continue. "Why would you want to kiss me…?" Then, seeming to rethink it, groaned covering his face with his hand, "Gods, I must be worse off then I thought to be hallucinating like this."

Michael didn't respond, but shuffled a little uncomfortably in his seated position. If only that were a viable excuse, he thought. Honestly, why had he said that? It wasn't as if his friend was just going to say "okay, knock yourself out, but not too much tongue please" or anything like that. And now the knight errant feared that this could very well ruin the friendship he had been working so hard to achieve.

"Do you…" Fisk started when Michael remained silent, "do you really feel… that way about me…?" He sounded rather taken aback as if it was hard for him to believe the words coming out of his own mouth right now. None of this was anything he would have expected, even though as a successful con man, the rogue had thought he was quite good at reading people. Apparently not good enough he conceded.

Michael's gaze was fixed on the floor, and he shifted nervously a bit before answering, "I…" How could he answer that? Especially when he didn't really understand it himself. The two of them had been together for quite some time now, had been with each other through many a tough time, and had gotten a lot closer then he had really expected possible. In fact, without a doubt he could say that Fisk was the best friend he had ever had. Not that tough of a competition he conceded a bit bitterly, especially now that he had no real ties left to his past life, and precious little chance of making much of a new one for himself with those accursed marks on his wrists, but still Fisk had always had his back, both physically and emotionally. And just recently, Michael had started to have…. those thoughts about him.

He couldn't say exactly when it had started, only that it hadn't been all at once. Just a vague passing notion at first, growing gradually in intensity until even the slightest touch or look was enough to spur his mind into one of those awful unbidden fantasies. But… he wasn't sure what he felt. I could merely be the lack of any real female- er- contact… ever. However, a small voice in the back of his mind argued that this was not the case. Still…

"I… don't know… I-I mean, kind of…" Michael stumbled his way through the best answer he could give, sighing and closing his eyes for a moment, still not looking at Fisk. "I'm sorry. Tis… most confusing. I don't…" He trailed off, realizing he was just repeating himself.

There was an agonizing pause, in which Michael's eyes remained fearfully glued to the floor. Scared to look up to see his friend's expression. Would he be angry, disgusted? A relationship like that between two men was something that to most civilized people was simply unheard of. Something that was sure to make both parties shunned for life (well… much like being marked as unredeemed actually…).

"Well, I can't say that I'm not flattered. I didn't know I was that irresistible." It caught Michael off guard when Fisk laughed casually.

"I mean, I have to say, you're actually quite a nice catch if I do say so myself." The rogue shrugged, then winced having forgotten about his shoulder.

To say Michael was dumbfounded was a gross understatement. This was not at all the reaction he had expected, and the knight could do nothing but stare, mouth open dumbly, though he was finding it incredibly difficult to make actual words come out.

"Y-you mean… you don't… mind…" Michael finally managed with a bit of difficulty. The knight's gaze nervously fell back to floor as he said this, his eyes darting up only for a second to try to catch his friend's reaction still afraid that any second he would be rejected.

"Mind? Michael, I…" Fisk paused, his casual demeanor dropping and sounding as though he was unsure of exactly what it was he meant to say, "I really…", the rogue's voice trailed off again, before he finally settled on a different route. "So how about that kiss?"

Michael gave a sheepish smile, blushing as he was reminded of his previous request. Well, it wouldn't do for a knight not to follow through with what he set out to do…

Slowly, Michael leaned forward, careful of Fisk's injury, as he lightly pressed himself against his friend's body. Their faces were so close that their lips were nearly touching. Michael felt more then heard Fisk take in a shaky breath, and the following light exhale of air. The knight errant closed his eyes, leaning in that last little distance to meet his friend's lips, sealing the soft kiss that he hoped would only be the beginning.

If you've gotten this far, thank you for reading my terrible writing! Please leave a review and tell me your opinions/criticisms (I'd especially like to know if they seemed out of character or not, since I'm a bit worried about that) and whether or not you think the story should change to an M rating in later chapters (right now this is my only non M fic) ,or even have later chapters.

~angel-san