Spring 1888

Before the Hunt

"You can imagine my surprise when I received your letter, Pellinore."

Pellinore Warthrop paused. He had been making his way to his bedroom. He would need to be fully rested for the anthropophagi hunt on the following eve. But Jack's voice, emanating from his open door, called him back.

With some reservations, he stepped into the light of Kearns' borrowed room. Kearns himself was not looking at him. He was standing near the window, looking out, though not much could be seen beyond his own reflection in the dark glass.

Pellinore shifted his weight uncomfortably and clasped his hands behind his back. "I do not see why, Jack. As I said, I required your services."

Kearns looked over his shoulder and raised a slim brow, "You must have been quite desperate to ask me to come."

"Stanley is in Buganda...he is the real expert."

"Ah," Jack said with mocking understanding, "So I was the only option you had left." He turned back to the window, his voice dropping the mocking tone and becoming quite dull he said, "I ought to have surmised."

Bitterly Pellinore retorted, "Yes. You ought to have."

Jack turned leisurely and smirked, "I would not be so quick to insult, my dear Pellinore, the monsters are far from dead, I could still take my leave."

Pellinore's lip curled, "That would not be out of character for you, Kearns, to leave just when you are most needed."

A flicker passed through his gray eyes but then Jack shrugged with seeming nonchalance. He lifted his valise and strode toward the door, slowing as he passed Pellinore to hiss into his ear, "As you wish. I shall send for my things. Happy hunting."

Pellinore's hand shot out to grip Kearns' arm at the elbow. Minutely, he turned his head and stammered, "Jack, stay."

"Whyever would you want that?"

"...I need you, John."

Kearns eyes closed for a prolonged moment, then he turn his head to meet Pellinore's, their faces inches apart. In a silken whisper he said, "Stay until the monsters are taken care of, that is what you mean, of course. You need my expertise."

"...Of course," Pellinore said, leaning back, "Whatever else would I mean?"

Jack grinned, baring those straight, white teeth, "Whatever else indeed?"

Pellinore released Kearns' arm and he returned his valise to his bed.

"Then you will stay?" Pellinore asked.

In a stiff voice Kearns said, "Well, I did come all this way."

Pellinore took a hesitating step toward him, "...Thank you, John."

"Jack, I've told you, I prefer Jack"

"Jack...thank you."

Kearns turned and his eyes roved over Pellinore, he parted his lips and a shadow of a smirk lifted their edges, "You can do better than that," he paused and then lingered over the syllables, "Pellinore."

Pellinore averted his eyes, "I do not know what you mean, Kearns."

A lift of his eyebrows, "Don't you? Is your memory so poor?" His voice had become teasing again, as it had been in the library with Morgan.

Pellinore was resolutely not looking at him, his voice had become dull and stiff, "I haven't the faintest inkling as to your meaning, as I said."

Jack sidled closer, until his breath could nigh be felt upon Pellinore's cheek, the singular inch he possessed in height over Pellinore seeming to allow him to loom over the doctor. "Because," Kearns began, his voice so low Pellinore had to remain absolutely silent to hear it, "I seem to remember your being far more," he lifted his hand as slow as one charming a tiger and traced the pad of his thumb over Warthrop's lower lip, "gracious."

Pellinore, who had gasped at the contact drew back sharply, the color high on his cheeks, eyes wild, "I will have none of that, Kearns," he snarled in a low voice, eyes darting to the open door.

"Won't you?" Jack asked, tilting his head, "That would be a first."

Pellinore's head was bowed and his own fingers were tracing his bottom lip, "No, Jack. Not this time."

In a whisper free of all teasing Jack breathed, "Why not?"

Pellinore's head shot up and he rumbled, "You know very well why not, Kearns! Every time I allow you to return you find something new to strip me of!" Vehemently he turned to the door.

Kearns held him back, low voice impassioned, "I did not mean for it to end as it did, Pellinore!"

"You never do, Jack," Pellinore said, looking toward the hallway.

Kearns laughed harshly and without humor, "Then I am to be blamed for all of it?"

"Because all of it is your fault," Pellinore retorted, spinning to face Kearns again, sneering.

"People die, Pellinore."

"With incredible frequency whenever you come around, Jack."

Jack tipped back his chin ever so slightly that he might look down his nose at Pellinore, "There is only one death I would have mourned, and he did not manage to make it all the way to the grave."

Pellinore leaned forward and hissed, "No thanks to you."

Jack recoiled as though struck, "I could not have-"

"Couldn't you? You could not even visit? Even after?" Old hurt crept into Pellinore's voice.

Jack swallowed audibly, "Pellinore."

Pellinore looked up at him, "Jack?"

Jack stepped closer to him again and lifted his hand to his face. Almost unconsciously Pellinore pressed his cheek against Jack's palm. His eyes closed. Jack shifted closer still and ran his thumb across Pellinore's lips. "Are you quite certain, Pellinore?" Jack whispered, "Do you have it in you to turn me aside?"

"Yes," Pellinore murmured, his eyes lidded and looking away.

"Then turn me aside."

When no reply was forthcoming Jack tilted down his head in tiny increments. He stopped when his cherubic lips hung so near Pellinore's that Pellinore could nearly feel them. His breath warm on Pellinore's flesh he whispered, "May I?"

Pellinore's eyes lifted to meet Jack's and many breaths passed between them before Pellinore answered, "Damn you...yes."

Jack made a sound of abject relief and pressed his lips to Pellinore's. Pellinore's hands leapt to Jack's collar and wrenched him closer. Jack, no longer tender, slid his hands down Pellinore's slender frame, biting his bottom lip hard enough to make Pellinore gasp. He slid his tongue against Pellinore's, growling.

Pellinore pulled Jack's head backward by the hair and dragged his teeth and lips over his throat, he found the spot right at the crux of Jack's neck and shoulder, a spot he had found many times, and bit.

Jack called out.

Pellinore drew back sharply and hissed, "Kearns, quiet!" Again he looked over his shoulder at the open door.

Jack ran his tongue over his lips, that already looked swollen and particularly pink and said, "Shut the door, Pellinore."

Pellinore went to the door but paused a moment before it was closed, he looked up at Kearns, "I ought not, Jack. I...We ought to rest."

Jack fixed him with a most leonine smile and raised a brow, "Now, my darling Pellinore, tomorrow is to be quite the dangerous day, we may not live through it."

Pellinore almost looked amused, "I would have thought, Jack, that you would be above such pedestrian arguments as 'this could be the last night of our lives.'"

Jack looked at Pellinore through hooded eyes, "As you well know, concerning you, Pellinore, I am above nothing."

Pellinore sighed and shut the door then turned back to face Kearns. He took a hesitant step toward him and, unable to wait, Kearns crossed the room. He pressed his face into Pellinore's neck, nuzzling and pressing kisses along the skin.

Pellinore made soft gasps as Kearns hands strayed under his shirt. Gently he drew his fingernails down Pellinore's stomach. Pellinore jerked and his hands gripped Jack's hips. He pressed himself against Kearns and he could be felt through the fabric of his trousers.

"You have-" he gasped, "-not forgotten too much, I see."

Jack teased the shell of Pellinore's ear with his teeth and whispered, "As though this were something I would ever forget."

Jack's hands slid down the front of Pellinore's trousers. Indiscriminately he palmed Pellinore through his pants, his lips and teeth teasing Pellinore's throat.

Pellinore pulled Jack against him by the hips and lifted him, one arm beneath him, and one behind his back. Compliantly Jack wrapped his legs about his slight waist and tilted Pellinore's head back that he might kiss him.

Pellinore carried him across the room, dropping him unto the bed and moving Jack's valise out of the way. He crawled over him, working at the buttons on Jack's shirt. Happy to help, Jack divested himself of his shirt and then rolled his hips up lasciviously to rid himself of his trousers also. Entirely bared he lifted his arms and put them behind his head, wantonly displaying what he knew Pellinore to find quite irresistible.

"Jack," Pellinore breathed over him.

Jack wriggled underneath him as Pellinore, sitting atop his hips, explored the well crafted muscles of Jack's torso with his long fingers.

Softly Pellinore said, "There are things I have remembered also, John."

Under hooded eyes Jack said, "I do not believe it, Pellinore, you shall have to prove yourself."

Pellinore whispered, "That is not what I meant."

Kearns sat up, pulling himself to Pellinore, kissing him desperately. Pellinore held him to himself one hand in his hair and one behind his back. He held him firmly. It was less a kiss than an embrace, fierce and needy.

"Pellinore," Kearns whined.

"John," He said. He nuzzled the side of John's face, "John, I missed you."

John buried his head into Pellinore's neck, smelling his hair and skin, his voice shook, "I always miss you. I always have."

Pellinore drew back enough to look at him and brushed his blonde hair out of his eyes, tucking the loose strands back behind his ears. He reached behind John's head and untied the ribbon that tied back his hair and let it fall around his bare shoulders. He drew his fingers through the silken strands and Kearns nearly purred.

Softly, his lips against John's ear, his hummed,br /

"Haloed in a golden light,br /

His lips spilled forth his song,"br /

John's head shot up and his eyes blazed, "Please, Pellinore."

Defeated Pellinore said, "Please, what? What do you want, John?"

"More. I know that you remember."

"...I do remember." He looked into John's pleading face, "No."

John's wail was keening.

"I said, quiet, Kearns," Pellinore's face screwed up and he shoved Kearns back down onto the mattress. He followed Kearns down, kissing him harshly, grinding his hips down, his fingers finding the tender spots on Kearn's torso and alternating between tender caresses and tweaks that were nearly rough.

Kearns writhed under him. His trousers becoming quite constraining Pellinore quickly abandoned his clothing atop Kearns'. No sooner was he unclothed but Kearns hands leapt to his skin, caressing every inch of it. He lifted his shoulders to kiss Pellinore's chest and throat, scraping his teeth against his skin. Both of them had lost the moment of gentleness and proceeded with intensity that bordered on harshness. When Kearns hands strayed lower, nails biting on the inside of Pellinore's thigh he gasped and pushed Jack back down onto the bed by the shoulder.

"That oil -" he breathed hard, "Jack, do you still carry it with you?"

"In my bag, under the bed, let me get it."

Jack reached under the bed and fumbled for a moment in the bag before retrieving a small bottle. He dangled it in front of Pellinore, "How would you prefer we proceed?" he asked teasingly.

"Turn around."

Kearns raised and eyebrow, "A gentleman might say, 'please.'"

Pellinore lurched forward, seizing Jack by the jaw and kissing him with ferocious purpose, then he growled, "Turn around."

Without another work Jack turned onto his belly and drew himself up until he was on all fours. He looked coyly over his shoulder at Pellinore, "Is this what you had in mind?"

Pellinore braced himself over Kearns, pulling his head back by the hair, exposing his throat, "Yes."

For all his bravado, Pellinore was careful in his preparations, slicking his fingers gratuitously and teasing Jack apart. Manhandle him perhaps, but Pellinore would not really hurt him.

"Get a bloody move on, will you?"

Pellinore complied, groaning as he coated himself in the heady scented oil and bearing down on Kearns. It was too much. John beneath him as he moved, his golden features losing their rigid control in favor of abject bliss, those lips repeating Pellinore's name. In too brief a time, Pellinore careened over the edge. His hips jerked and he threw back his head, hoarsely hissing, "John!"

Jack followed soon after, his own keening moans kept quiet by Pellinore's hand.

Minutes later and still catching his breath Pellinore lay stretched out on top of the covers, legs still tangled with Kearns'.

Recovering before him, Kearns rolled over and lifted himself onto his elbow, his free hand brushing hair out of Pellinore's face. He grinned, his eyes softer than Pellinore had seen them in years. He pressed a series of kisses across Pellinore's face.

"Are you going to throw me out as quickly as you did last time, Pellinore?" He said tenderly.

Pellinore allowed himself a small, uncharacteristic smirk, "If you behave yourself for once, John, perhaps I shall let you stay."

Jack waggled his eyebrows, "It's Jack, and you know I was never so good at that! Turn over."

"I am no longer a youth, Jack, give me a moment to rest would you?"

Jack scoffed, "That is not what I'm after, you scoundrel, now turn over, this is for your benefit."

Compliantly, Pellinore turned over to his stomach, looking curiously up at Jack over his shoulder. Jack slid astride him, knees tucked against his sides.

Jack leaned over to the bedstand and snagged the bottle of oil they had recently made use of and spilled some on Pellinore's bare back. Pellinore hissed at the cold.

"Hush," Jack said and pressed his fingers into Pellinore's back, massaging the knotted muscles.

Pellinore dropped his head into his arms and groaned, "My god, Jack."

Jack worked his way down his shoulders and back, thumbs pressing out the tense knots. All the while Pellinore groaned and bleatted into his arms.

When he was finished Jack curled up next to the now pliable Pellinore and pulled him flush to him, nuzzling into his dark hair. "Stay here tonight."

Pellinore turned his head and kissed him languidly, "Would that I could, John. I need to wake in my own room. Imagine if someone came calling."

Jack only attached himself more securely to Pellinore, who did not resist curling up against him.

Into Pellinore's hair Jack murmured, "...I want to stay, Pellinore."

Pellinore pressed his head against Jack's chest, "Then stay."

Jack sat up enough to look at Pellinore, "Do you really mean -"

A movement from the other side of the room caused both of them to twist around to look.

Pellinore spoke in a dangerously low tone, "It came from your box, Jack."

Jack tongue passed over his teeth, "So it did."

Pellinore drew away, standing, "What is in that box, John?"

Jack sat up, leaning back against the headboard, "You asked me here to hunt anthropophagi, Pellinore, don't you already know know what's in the box?"

Pellinore stiffened and he swept his trousers off the floor, wrenching them on. He spat at Jack, "I ought to tell the constable, Kearns."

Jack sighed and reaffixed his sly smile, his eyes losing all traces of softness, "By all means, Pellinore, but what do you propose we use instead? The boy, perhaps?"

Still only half dressed Pellinore snarled at Jack, "I am surprised you are not chomping at the bit to send Will Henry to the wolves as you did his father!"

Jack rose fluidly, smiling in the face of Pellinore's fury, "As far as I recall there was another who was equally complicit in the horrific death of James Henry," he tapped his finger to his cheek as though thinking, "Now, whoever could that have been?"

Pellinore struck him, the force of it turning Kearns' head to the side.

Jack laughed softly, a red mark upon his cheek, "So tell good Bobby Morgan and do write me about the jolly good time you had hunting the fiends without my 'inestimable services.'"

Pellinore's chest was heaving, he pulled his shirt on and scowled at the box and cursed, "When we have finished with the anthropophagi you will take your leave, John."

Jack grinned, "As you wish, my darling Pellinore. And it's Jack."

Pellinore left, slamming the door behind him.

After the Hunt

Warthrop had first tended to Will Henry's wounds, then sent him to his bed in his loft. When Will had been seen to he bathed himself, scouring his body of the mud and blood of the hunt. The heat of the bath nearly put him to sleep, he hadn't realized how cold he'd been, half dressed and damp crawling about under the graveyard. When at long last, the bathwater had gone cold, he went to his bedroom, intending to sleep more hours than he usually did in four nights combined. But, exhausted as he was, sleep did not come peacefully.

When it did it was in short and terrible bursts that he woke from after barely closing his eyes, coming awake certain that a beast was upon him. On the third of such instances, a monster was.

"Kearns," he hissed, "What the devil are you doing in here?" he pulled his coverlet up to hide his bare chest.

Kearns, also clad in sleepwear, although his was silken and not as ratty as Pellinore's was distracted from his original purpose to raise his eyebrows, "Modesty, Pellinore? That seems hardly necessary where I am concerned."

"I am sleeping, Kearns, leave me be."

"Are you? Because from what I could hear you were merely tossing about and gasping. Is everything quite alright?"

"No it is not, Kearns. My assistant, as you may recall, was nearly devoured. Malachi Stinnett was slain and it is a surprise, to be frank, that the two of us emerged as whole as we did."

Uninvited Kearns sat at the edge of his bed, "I do wish the Stinnett boy had not been killed, you know, but he did volunteer."

Accusing, Pellinore's voice rose from the dark, "You pushed Will Henry into a den of the beasts, Jack."

"So I did."

"Have you nothing to say on the matter?"

In the moonlight shining through the window, Pellinore could see the dimmest outline of Jack shrugging, "Only that there was no other recourse. You had already put him in danger, I had no idea you would be so aggravated over the matter, particularly considering that he was alright. I never left him, not for an instant."

"I did not think his crawling through that hole would be dangerous."

Jack chuckled, "Then whyever did you lie to Bobby Morgan about it?"

"Get out of my bedroom, Jack."

"Do you truly want me to leave?"

"Jack, do you really think I am up for your advances?"

"You wound me, Pellinore," he said and sounded as though Pellinore really may have, "That wasn't what I was offering."

In a tone that nearly made his next words sound like an apology Pellinore said, "Well...I know quite well how you are about hunts."

Jack laughed softly, "They do get my blood up, yes, but you are clearly in no condition for anything so engaged."

"Then what are you offering?"

Cautiously, Jack lay down beside him, although over the covers rather than beneath them and put his arms around Pellinore.

Pellinore lay his head against Kearns' chest, and Kearns began softly pulling his fingers through Pellinore's freshly bathed hair.

Softly, but not without anger Pellinore murmured, "I am still angry about what you did to Will Henry."

"You have made that point abundantly clear, sleep now, Pellinore."

Pellinore allowed himself to be nuzzled for a few minutes longer before he said, "I meant it, Kearns, I am not interested in any sort of amorous advance tonight."

"I meant it as well, Pellinore, I am content with this."

Pellinore scoffed, "With me, sweating onto your pajamas?"

"Yes," Kearns said, and Pellinore dearly wished the light was burning that he might see the expression to accompany such a softened voice, "Yes, Pellinore, I am content with you."

"...Get under the blankets at least, you will catch your death of cold."

Happily, Kearns crawled under the blankets and was free to curl Pellinore against him entirely.

He was very warm and his arms about Pellinore were very comforting. Resist though he might want to, it was not long before Pellinore was too contented to consider throwing Kearns out. Just before he slipped into unconsciousness he said, "Did you mean it, Jack, when you said you wanted to stay here?"

"Yes," Kearns said very seriously, "I meant it. I should...I should like to continue, Pellinore, where we left off before...before everything else transpired."

Pellinore dug himself against Kearns, "Jack, I want you to stay."

Jack's arms tightened around him and he pressed his lips into Pellinore's hair, "Please, Pellinore, more."

Pellinore tilted back his head and looked at John in the dark,

"Haloed in a golden light,br /

His lips spilled forth his song,br /

and though he thought he looked at me,br /

my soul he looked /

When his voice trailed away Jack whispered, "I never stopped, Pellinore."

"I know John. I know."

Upon the Return from Dedum

Upon returning to Harrington Lane Kearns went immediately upstairs after his business with Dr. Jeremiah Starr and Jonathan Peterson, "I rather think it has been a splendid three days, Pellinore," Kearns said, looking over his shoulder to Pellinore who had followed him up, "I don't suppose you will take back your insistence that I not overstay my welcome."

Pellinore, fury set in every bone of his body, very nearly shook with it, "I would prefer you remained and allowed yourself to be handed over the the police."

"But you know that I won't."

"You murdered them, John."

"How often must I tell you I prefer Jack?"

"Starr and Peterson, I- you understand you have left me with no choice."

Jack had the decency to peer over Pellinore's shoulder to make sure there were no small ears listening at the door, then he leaned close, "You understand that those murders were for no one's benefit but your own."

"My own? It is not because of me that those men are dead!"

"No, not because of you, but for you," Jack looked at him through his long eyelashes, cherubic as ever.

Pellinore set his jaw, "John-"

"Jack."

"Kearns, you cannot expect me to take a double homicide as a compliment."

"Of course not, that would be ridiculous, I meant it as a gift."

"A gift?" Warthrop asked incredulously.

"Yes, my dear Pellinore, do you think I am so ungracious that after three nights of your esteemed company I would leave without giving something in return?" He lifted his brow and allowed his gaze to linger on Pellinore's lips.

"I- I will turn you over to the police," he said resolutely.

"Do as you must, but do think of me fondly while you are allowed to continue with your life's work."

Pellinore glowered, "I shall not think of you at all."

Kearns grinned, "What is it that you are always telling that assistant apprentice of yours about lying?"

He winked at Pellinore and plucked a scrap of paper off the nightstand, "Wouldn't want to forget this," he said, tucking it into his breast pocket.

"What is that?" Pellinore hissed.

"I don't suppose you would be willing to sign it? After all, I had to write this copy down myself," Jack said with the barest hint of a smile.

"Give that to me," Pellinore demanded, "You do not get to have that."

"No, Pellinore, I lost my first one, do you think I would ever let this one out of my sight?" Jack hefted his bags and strode toward the door of his borrowed bedroom, at the door he turned back. Toying lilt gone from his voice he said, "Goodbye, Pellinore, until we are reacquainted."

Pellinore glared at him, mouth twisted into a terrible sneer, "We will not be."

Jack laughed with real mirth, "Oh, Pellinore, you wound me. Someday you shall miss me so dreadfully you chase me across the continents."

"Goodbye, Jack."