Inevitable

It really was inevitable that they'd find love in each other's arms, don't you think? Tintin&Haddock all the way…Slash, just in case you were wondering. Yeah. From me - who'da thunk! Eight chapters and they get hotter as they go…

…

Really – how can it not be inevitable? I could go through analogy after analogy, but let's face it…they belong together.

Along with that sentiment, the inspiration for this story was a drawing I found surfing through the internet for tintinxhaddock images (ahh – internet, you give us all such sweet, sweet things for our passions…) and came across a drawing described in paragraph six through ten (with some artistic license as I added my own place/reason to the scene…). I would give credit where due, but unfortunately the artist chose to refer to themselves as 'anonymous' though there is a tag 'Stubborn_child_by_tpt' (search by that and you'll find the drawing). If by some strange twist of fate and that person reads this – thank you from the bottom of my Tintin and Haddock obsessed heart.

Don't own Tintin&Company – Moulinsart does.

To perdition with grammatical apologies.

Hope you enjoy fellow T&H shippers…

… The Spark

It really was inevitable their coming together. After all, one doesn't share all the experiences they had without becoming closer than close. They had started out as two people who needed aid in a desperate situation, had become friends, then trusted companions and finally as close as two people could get without actually becoming physically intimate.

They were quite comfortable in touching each other in a friendly manner - the hand on shoulder or arm or wrapped around waist and had no trouble in standing so close that they were looking into each other eye to eye. They had seen each other naked, had slept in same hotel room, tent, prison cell, sleeping bag, rocket.

But neither one had ever taking that step that lead from mere friendship to something so much more.

All it needed was a simple impetus, a slight spark, the light yet oh so important nudge.

And received it by standing together in a hospital emergency room, holding onto each other gently yet securely.

Neither one was hurt horribly, nor suffered debilitating injuries. A scrape on one cheek here, a cut on another's cheek there, scattered bruises along with muscles sore and bones achy from yet another adventure that had found its usual satisfying if not overwhelmingly insane conclusion.

Their clothes were filthy and stained in places, and they were both worn out and wanted nothing better than to go home and relax.

But they continued to stand together, alone in the small room, both having been released by the doctors with the admonition to take it easy for a while. The younger man, his ginger hair sporting its tuft that never seemed to wilt, had his hands on either side of the bearded older man, fists clenched into the dark blue, thick sweater. His head was down and he stared unseeingly, frowning slightly, but perhaps that was just because of how tired he was.

The older man had his arms around the smaller figure, one hand resting gently on the back of the youth's neck, the other hand just below and to one side. His eyes were closed, his expression one of fatigued gratefulness.

Neither one said a thing, just stood there taking and giving solace, knowing that once again they had pulled through odds no bookmaker would ever take and had come out not only alive, but victorious as usual.

It was hard to say which one sighed first or gave a subtle shift of weight but by unspoken consent they stepped away. One head tilted up a bit and the other down and they gave each other a rueful smile.

"Shall we go, my boy?"

"Yes, I am more than ready to say goodbye to this latest adventure."

"Aye, this was a tough one."

"Mmm. But we did it, didn't we?"

"Indeed we did, laddie, but not without getting caught in the usual mayhem. I swear, Tintin…"

"Now Captain, all's right that end's right and this one ended right. The criminals are going to prison, and we're going home with just the usual assortment of bumps and bruises."

A not so soft snort replied to that statement, and the youth only shook his head good naturedly.

Limping a little from sore knee, swaying a bit from being knocked out (again), they made their way to the exit, collected one somewhat patiently waiting white terrier who gave them quite the talking to, having had to wait outside like some common cur without even a chicken bone to keep it company and then the three of them made their slow way to the nearest train station.

Once again fortune smiled upon them and they found a train leaving within a half hour that would take them back to home, sweet blessed home. As they waited for the conductor's cry to board, they shared schnitzel, salted pretzels and a large bottle of orange drink bought from nearby vendors, still selling their wares at this late hour. The older man (and dog, for that matter) would have enjoyed a beverage of a stronger nature, but wisely said nothing.

Hearing the "Aaaall Aboaaard", they winced and made small noises of discomfort as bodies that had become somewhat relaxed were forced to move once more. Climbing on board they travelled from one compartment to another until they found one that was unoccupied – not wanting any company but their own.

Collapsing upon the padded bench, they all heaved sighs of relief. The Captain was next to the window, Tintin next to him, and Snowy had lain beside his master, furry muzzle laid across thigh, a soft hand gently stroking his ears just right.

They sat there and stared unseeingly at the bench across from them, neither one of them even realizing that either one could have sat upon it. It was given no more notice than the air they breathed. It was just there.

A small jerk that had them all tensing up a bit as bodies were suddenly pushed forward and then pulled backwards and they were off. There were many miles to go and hours to spend but they were on their way home. Three sets of lungs expanded and then let out low, soft sighs.

The only one not staring out the window was the dog, softly snoring as he lay curled against his beloved boy. The older man had his head turned slightly, his eyes at half mast. The youth gazed out at utter darkness that was relieved only by a tiny light of far-off farm house or the occasional streetlamp at the occasional crossing.

The only noise the rhythmic clacking of wheels or the creaking of rail car as it swayed back and forth with the mournful sound of train whistle as infrequent accompanist.

Tintin sighed and shifted in his seat, his muscles stiffened from having sat for so long. He laid his head back against the seat and closed his eyes.

The older man shifted as well and Tintin unthinkingly shifted in response, bending forward as an arm was placed around him. He shifted once more, snuggling a little into the warmth and comfort. He could smell the tobacco and whisky along with the ever present tang of sea air that permeated the fabric and inhaled the soothingly familiar scents and took a long, deep breath, holding those aromas until his lungs began to protest.

"Go to sleep, have a long way to go." the Captain's gruff voice murmured.

"Mmmm, maybe…for a little while." Tintin whispered back and closed his eyes. But he really didn't want to sleep. Not that he wasn't tired – he was utterly and completely exhausted. But he had come to realize something, something ephemeral yet also straightforward…

This was what he enjoyed the most about adventures.

Yes, he got quite the thrill from learning about a mystery, discovering clues and piecing them together, confronting the no-gooders and delivering them up to justice. But when it was all said and done, this…this is what made it all worthwhile.

Sitting safe and warm, high and dry, comfy and cozy with his best friend - knowing that everything was all right with the world, they had looked the dragon in the eye, pulled the tiger's tail, spun the wheel of fate and had walked away intact (relatively speaking - not withstanding a bruise or two…).

As much as Tintin enjoyed being whirled around by the hurricane that made up his usual day to day activities, he had realized a long time ago that he relished being in the calm of its eye. Just as he knew a lot to do with that calm came from the man who was next to him, the man he was leaning against, snuggled into his side, arm holding him gently and securely.

One couldn't very well walk into a viper's nest as if into a field of flowers - not if you had somebody with you and not be concerned about their welfare. All well and good if you had no-one but yourself to look after, but when there was another, well that was a different story all together. He knew how much the older man cared about him, cared deeply. Loved really.

And Tintin loved back just as deeply.

Sighing a bit contentedly, Tintin snuggled his head into the crook of the man's shoulder, closed his eyes and managed to drop off…

…