Title: I'd Die For You
Author: Lycanus
Fandom: King Arthur
Character(s): Tristan; Dagonet
Rating: M
Type: angst; friendship
Summary: During a night-time stakeout, a Scout's mind drifts to the person he desires ...
Comments & Reviews: positive comments welcomed
Disclaimer: Dagonet and Tristan are still Jerry Bruckheimer's & Touchstone Pictures' boys, despite all my wishing, hoping and praying - and I have the very painful knees to prove it, godsdammit !
Warning: contains, thanks to a certain Scout's hyperactive imagination and wishful thinking, thoughts of a "slashy" nature, as well as some pretty strong language.
A/N:
i) AU, set in the present day, where the five - yup, this is no screw up, I did say five - remaining Sarmatians are all ex-military and now work in security. Arthur and Lancelot were killed by a landmine in the Middle-East.
ii) "Crush" belongs to Garbage.
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I'd Die For You
Tristan's pov:
I love the night.
It's the only time I feel truly at peace. It calms, soothes me and somehow, I'm always able to see things more clearly and to think rationally in the dark. The cover of night shields me. The darkness is my protector. My ally. My friend. It's the one constant in my life that I can rely on ... That I trust.
Or so I thought ...
I would die for you ...
I would die for you.
I've been dying just to feel you by my side.
To know that you're mine.
I will cry for you ...
I will cry for you.
I will wash away your pain with all my tears
and drown your fears.
Everything changed once Bors saw fit to pair me up with his cousin for night-time stakeouts a couple of months ago.
Whether the rest of our company, Gawain and Galahad, had any input in this decision, I'll never know. What I am aware of, is that Bors rarely works nights anymore, thanks to an ever increasing family and a strikingly attractive, fiesty, flame-haired lover. I swear, the man must've been a fucking rabbit in a previous life, because they're always at it. After fifteen years together, he's still passionately in love with his woman, and Vanora's affections are mutual. They continuously bicker and fight, yet she remains completely devoted to Bors, simply because she genuinely adores him. In all the time they've been together, she hasn't looked at another man once.
So, Bors tells me he's no longer doing stakeouts due to other commitments. And considering he's the only one who has the responsibility of family and kids, I can't really argue with him, can I ? After all, who in their right mind would willingly cross Vanora regarding this issue ? Hell ! Not me for starters. Even I'm not that fucking insane ... or suicidal.
Fuck ! I've fought in Iraq and even did a tour in Afghanistan, before I was released from my post as a sniper. And trust me, those were rough times. Really fucking rough ... The worst time was our final Afghan tour. There we lost both Arthur and Lance. They were instantly killed when their ARV struck an undetected landmine. That was when the rest of us realized it was time to get out. Fast.
Thankfully, Bors, Dagonet and I had come to the end of our service, but Gawain and Galahad had to find a way to buy themselves out as they still had two years left to complete, but somehow, they - and I didn't want to know how they did it - managed to get released from their contracts.
Anyway, I'm getting sidetracked here ... Bors dropped his bombshell about only working the day shift, leaving Dag without someone to watch his back and me with a responsibility I didn't need or particularly want. A partner.
I'm a loner. I freely admit it and I don't give a flying fuck what other people think about it. I found at a young age, that I'm better off alone. That others can be a liability. That you can only rely on yourself in the long run. If people don't drop you in the proverbial shit from a great height, or stab you in the back, they tend to wind up dead. It was a hard lesson to learn, but if you don't let anyone get close enough, you can't get hurt ... Physically. Mentally. Or emotionally. And so far, that reasoning's kept me alive. Kept me sane ...
I didn't think anything about it much at first, as Dag and I had always got on. He'd just turned thirty and was three years my senior. A quiet, somewhat shy man, he possesses a keen mind and a sharp intelligence although he never flaunts it. But when Dagonet speaks, we all tend to pay attention and with good cause, as his advice has always proved invaluable and for the most, kept us in relatively one piece. We'd originally met when he'd been drafted in as our corps' medic and it was thanks to his skill that the five of us returned home alive.
Like I said, Dag's a quiet and private man, yet he has a sharp, dry wit which is often targeted at his more outspoken, volatile cousin's expense and that often provides the rest of us with a great deal of amusement.
Anyway, despite my protests that I work better alone - that I prefer to work alone - I got lumbered with a sidekick. Ok, so maybe "lumbered" isn't the right word ... I inherited a partner. And I wasn't too happy about it ...
Yet now, here I am six weeks later, in a quandary. A dilemma. Because I've had a change of heart and can't possibly imagine my life without Dagonet.
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I will pray for you ...
I will pray for you.
I will sell my soul for something pure and true ...
Someone like you ...
See your face every place that I walk in.
Hear your voice every time that I'm talking.
You will believe in me
and I will never be ignored ...
It's just after two in the morning and I can't help feeling restless ... on edge. And it's all thanks to the man that's quietly sleeping in the passenger seat next to me. Ever since Bors made the announcement that I'd be working nights with Dagonet, I've not been able to relax. And it's seriously winding me up, as I've always been at ease in the dark.
Oh, I know Dag's not to blame for it. He's completely oblivious to the way I feel about things ... About him. Totally unaware that he's continuously in my thoughts twenty-four-seven. That he's unwittingly invaded my dreams and stolen my heart. He's succeeded with his kind heart, gentle ways and caring nature where others have failed. Dag's managed to break through my defences. Got close to me. And despite all of my good intentions, made me feel once more. He's made me do something I swore I'd never do again - made me let him in and care for him.
In the past, when we were in Afghanistan, I'd liked him but didn't know him. Didn't know what made him tick. But when you're coerced into working closely with someone for a period of time, for long hours and often in cramped spaces, you can't help getting to know that person. And now the person I saw as just a comrade, a work mate had become - unusually for me - a good friend. Someone I could rely upon to watch my back. Someone I trust with my life ... and now my heart. Somehow, over these past few weeks, without meaning to, I've seriously fucked up ... I've fallen for my best friend.
Dagonet's become everything to me. Despite all the atrocities we've seen during our posts abroad, Dag hasn't lost his innocence completely. He still has faith and continues to see the good in others, despite Bors' insistence that life sucks and shit often happens to good people. Unlike the rest of us, Dag's retained his purity and humanity and hasn't become cynical and jaded. And that's something I envy and respect him for. I'd give anything to be able to be like that. To not see the darkness in others as I do in myself ...
But now my life - my world - revolves around Dagonet and he remains completely in the dark about it. To him, I'm someone he works with. A friend. Nothing more. And I long for ... yearn to be everything to him. To be the one true light in his life ... as he is mine. It's strange for one who used to be a solitary man, who revelled in being alone, to become so dependant on another for his happiness. But I have.
The dark no longer soothes me. Not now. Especially when the object of my affections - the one that I desire and hunger for - sleeps soundly beside me in blissful ignorance. He consumes me. Mesmerizes me. Owns me. Every part of me. Heart. Body. And soul. I only feel joy and contentment in his presence. When we are apart, I'm as miserable as sin. Irritable. Aggressive. And frustrated as hell. And I do mean frustrated ...
Gods ! I want him. Desperately. He looks younger and at peace, when he sleeps. The stress and worry lines on his face appear to have smoothed away and the long scar which descends from his eye and down his cheek also looks less livid. It has been a long night for the both of us. Dag took the first surveillance watch from six until midnight, then I took over until six in the morning when the day shift come on. He sleeps like the dead. Silent as the grave and still like a corpse. But I know from past experience how swiftly he becomes alert if the slightest sound disturbs him from his rest.
We are on yet another dull stakeout, keeping watch on some paranoid, dumb blonde who happens to be a powerful, rich man's mistress. And it sickens me that we - trained soldiers who've experienced combat and death first hand - have been resorted to take on this type of work just to pay the bills and to keep the wolves from the door. I know nothing's going to happen on this job tonight. Dag knows it too. Yet here we both are, working a case we despise, simply to make ends meet.
The only thing that keeps me from walking away from jobs like this is the incentive of being in Dagonet's company. Nothing else could make such a shitty, meaningless task worthwhile. I know I should be giving my undivided attention to the job at hand. That I should be concentrating on what's going on around me. Keeping a close eye on that daft bint and her home. But I just can't be fucking arsed. Not when I have such sinful temptation within touching distance to me. And I so want to touch him. To feel his hard, lithe, muscular body against mine. To caress firm, naked flesh and toned sinew. To have that powerful body wrapped around me. Have him kiss me. Passionately. Hungrily. For him to possess me. Love me ... Purely and intensely. As I do him.
And it's just plain torture struggling to keep my hands to myself. I find myself fighting desperately not to reach out and strip him of his clothing. To peel off his black leather biker jacket ... Rip the black t-shirt that clings lovingly, almost like a second skin, to his powerful torso as I trail my lips down the strong column of his throat, pausing briefly to gently worry the sensitive hollow at the base of his neck just above his clavicle, then laving the smarting pain away with my tongue, before falling in silent adoration to worship the broad expanse of his chest. I want to straddle his lean hips. Feel Dag's powerful thighs, encased in snug fitting black denim, flex beneath mine as I grind against his thick, hard arousal. Craving friction. Needing it. Yearning for it. Wanting him ...
I will burn for you ...
Feel pain for you.
I will twist the knife and bleed my aching heart
and tear it apart.
I will lie for you ...
Beg and steal for you.
I will crawl on hands and knees until you see ...
You're just like me ...
Violate all the love that I'm missing.
Throw away all the pain that I'm missing.
You will believe in me
and I can never be ignored ...
As I watch him sleep, I know I'd do anything for Dag. That I'd do just about everything and anything to protect him. The funny thing is that he's older, taller and more powerfully built than I am, yet I can't help being overly protective of him. That I'd do anything in my power to keep Dag safe and free from harm. Even if it would end up breaking my heart. Breaking me ...
I wish to the gods that I didn't love him so. That I could stop caring so deeply for Dagonet. I feel conflicted. Torn by my emotions. I wish I could just ... just fuck off. Leave. Because deep down I know that if Dag ever found out how I truly feel about him, I'd lose him. For good. And I couldn't bear that. Seeing the pity in his striking, kindly silver eyes. That would kill me ... But I can't leave. I lack the strength - the will - to do so. Either way, I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't. I still end up hurting. Tormenting myself over someone I love, but can never have. And that I have to accept, inspite of all of the pain and suffering I'll inevitably feel.
I would die for you.
I would kill for you.
I will steal for you.
I'd do time for you.
I will wait for you.
I'd make room for you.
I'd sail ships for you.
To be close to you.
To be part of you.
'Cause I believe in you ...
I believe in you.
I would die for you ...
So, basically, I'm trapped ... Snared like a wild, helpless animal. Caught in a trap of my own making. Unable and unwilling to break free. Enslaved by what I feel. Beguiled. Besotted. Intrigued. And hopelessly addicted.
In simple terms, I'd willingly - eagerly - sacrifice myself if it ensured Dagonet's safety. His wellbeing and happiness is paramount to me. Fuck ! I'd kill for him, without even blinking an eye. That's how much he means to me. That's partly why I'm still here. So I can be close to him. Near him. To be part of his life. In any way that would please him. Because what brings him pleasure, pleases me and ultimately, that's all that matters ...
Finis