This will be a Jon/Ardeth fic. I never tried this couple before, so this is completely experimental. If it's horrible, I apologize. I've been playing around with different writing styles lately, so I figured this would be a perfect time to try something new. As there always is with my work, there are tidbits and pieces scattered about that don't seem to fit quite right, but, shrugs. All I can say is, read on at your own risk.
Jonathan downed another shot of bourbon, quite drunk and still quite depressed. The trip back from Hamunuptra had been thankfully, uneventful. Jonathan didn't think he could handle any more cursed mummies popping up from their resting places as Imhotep had, reaping plagues upon mankind, kidnapping his sister, and forcing him to help save all of mankind.
Bloody wankers weren't grateful anyway, so why should he? Let some other fool resurrect a 3,000 year-old burden and see if he cared.
He heaved a sigh, casting a look around the newest bar he discovered, and his eyes fell upon a beautiful sight. She was about 5'3, blonde hair, blue eyes, obviously a westerner. Long legs led up to a slender form with generous curves, clad in form fitting pants and a tight shirt. It seemed as if she were perfect.
Perfect, if not for one small detail.
She was draped across the arms of another man. And an ugly one at that. He was a rather large man, with a square jaw, which clashed with his abnormally large nose, setting crookedly in between his eyes. Jonathan couldn't even begin to guess what color said eyes were, as they were obscured by two bushy eyebrows that seemed to meld into one. The chair he was currently sitting in was sagging under his weight, looking as if it were to give at out any moment.
Jonathan grimaced and signaled for another shot.
If he didn't know any better, he would bet his life that Sasquatch occupied the table. The woman let out a laugh, drawing almost every eye in the bar. She really had no idea what she was doing, did she? It seems as if Jonathan would once more have to go save a beautiful girl from making a disastrous mistake.
Dropping some money on the bar, he made his way over, stumbling occasionally. Though if it were from the alcohol or the chairs that were strewn carelessly about, he honestly couldn't say.
The table was occupied by three other men besides Sasquatch, each just as ugly as their leader. There was one empty chair between him and one of his friends, and Jonathan leaned on it from behind, his weight resting on his hands.
"Isn't this just a lovely picture? A beautiful woman in the arms of a handsome man, a shy new love becoming apparent to everyone but themselves." He pulled out the chair from the table. "You wouldn't mind if I joined you, right?" He sat down before anyone at the table could say otherwise. "But then to make that picture a reality you would actually have to be in the arms of a handsome man, and judging by the looks of this guy, I would say that the pictures not yet perfect." He smiled at the woman, who was staring at him strangely. "But I can fix that."
"Look, pal--"
"I'm talking to the lady, if you don't mind." He turned his attention back to her, flashing her, what he hoped to be, a charming smile. He caught one of her hands and brought it to his lips. "My name is Jonathan, my dear, and I do say, you have lovely eyes. May I buy you a drink?"
"No, you can't."
Jonathan sighed in irritation as the guy once again interrupted. "I told you, I'm trying to talk to the lady, so if you please wouldn't mind--"
The man stood up angrily, his fists slamming down on the table, cutting Jon off and causing a few drinks to topple over as well. "Yeah, I mind, pal."
"You know, I heard that men who were, wait, how did they put this? Oh yes, 'in a constant state of anger', I believe they said, were really just upset about their inability to satisfy their partners. They have doctors for that now-a-days. I'd try and get that little issue worked out, if I were you."
The guys jaw clenched in anger, but Jonathan failed to notice and turned his attention back to the woman, a smile back on his face. The man growled and threw a punch, his fist connecting with Jonathan's jaw with such force that Jon flew backwards, the chair failing to hold his weight and he hit the floor, the chair coming out from beneath him.
He staggered to his feet, one eye shut, a bruise already becoming visible.
His hand automatically went to his eye, and he pulled it away just as quickly, hissing in pain. "Was that really necessary? Really, you try to have a civilized conversation with some--"
His eyes widened as the same offending fist flew at his face once more, this time landing squarely on his jaw, causing his lip to split open. The man sneered. "I'm gettin' real tired of you, real fast."
"Right, then." Jonathan threw a punch of his own, his swing wild. He missed his target completely, grunting in pain as the guy countered with a jab to his stomach. His eyes widened as he was pushed backwards, crashing into the next table over.
Regaining his breath, he stood up, wiping some blood off of his lip. He straightened his jacket and backed up a few steps, swaying uncertainly. "I think...I'll just..." Reaching out to steady himself on the back of a nearby chair he missed, falling heavily to the ground as his eyes rolled backwards.
There was a moment of silence and the guy sneered. "Somebody get him outta my sight." He sat down heavily in his abandoned chair as the people around looked at one another uncertainly. "I mean NOW!"
The bar erupted in noise as the people rushed about, two of the men hauling Jonathan up by his jacket, dragging him towards the back door. They threw him outside, barely missing the garbage piles and slammed the door behind them, neither noticing nor caring that the man was regaining consciousness.
Nobody seemed to notice Jonathan as he made his way home. It had become a regular occurrence for them, to see him stumble his way through town, bloodied and bruised.
He ignored the venders as they called out to him, whether they were asking after his well being or trying to sell him something. He stopped once before, only to see mockery and contempt in their eyes. They didn't care about him. He was just another source of amusement for them.
He could imagine scenes in his head of them meeting with their friends the next day.
"Do you know who I talked to last night?"
"Who?"
"Jonathan O'Carahan."
"The man that always comes through here drunk and beaten?"
"Yes. Pitiful, isn't he?"
"Quite."
And here they would laugh and go about their days, as if the conversation they just had was as if they were speaking of the weather. No worry. No cares.
Well, who needed them anyways? He had a respectable job, a loving family, a good home. He could survive just fine without them.
He turned down a side street that wound sideways, going around the rest of the marketplace, and conveniently leading to another road that would lead to his home. He stopped at the beginning of the road, just looking around.
The house he and Evy shared, and now Rick as well, was left to them by their parents, who had inherited it from his mothers parents. It stood at the end of the street, the only house facing back towards the opposite end, almost as if it were looking after the other houses.
He made his way to the house slowly, and paused at the beginning of the walk, taking time to admire the house that stood proud before him.
The stone walk led to a set of wooden stairs, which were attached to a wrap-around porch, adorned with a couple of rocking chairs and a small table. The house itself was a large two-story home, flowered curtains displayed in the multiple windows.
Most people saw the curtains as a sign of a woman's domain. Which actually summed it up quite right, in Jonathans opinion. Evy and Rick had fought tooth-and-nail for two weeks about the curtains, Rick finally giving in after Evy had threatened to lock him out of the bedroom for a week.
Evy pretty much got her way about everything now, whether they were discussing new rugs or a new car. Leave it to a woman to exploit a mans weak spot.
He gave another heavy sigh, dreading the short walk up to the house. No doubt Evy would be waiting up in the living room for him, prepared to lecture him on yet another day wasted. "Drinking," she would say, "is for the weak. Even the most respectable men can turn into complete scoundrels. It's beneath you, Jonathan."
Well, no use putting it off any longer. She'd spot him through her flowered curtains and come drag him inside, uncaring if she was to make a scene in front of the neighbors. Not that it would have mattered, they were probably used to it by now anyhow.
He dug his key out of his back pocket, struggling to fit it into the lock, cursing all the while. With a cry of triumph, he finally managed to open the door, nearly falling as it swung inwards. "Mess with me why don't ya. Stupid door. There hasn't been one yet that I haven't managed to open."
He shrugged off his jacket, and tossed his keys to where he knew the side table to be, not noticing the dull thud as they hit the floor instead. "Evy? Are you home?" ... "Hm. Must be out with Rick. At least there won't be a lecture today."
He shrugged, making his way into the living room, flipping on a couple of lights as he did. "Why the hell is it so bloody dark in here?"
The light came on before he could make his way to the switch, revealing a crowd of people in the living room. "SURPRISE!"
There was a flurry of activity as everyone let loose cheers, the occasional party streamer making its way through the air. Evy stepped forward, her smile fading as she got a good look at him. "Oh, Jonathan, not again."
"Let it go, Evy, I'm fine." Ignoring the people in the room he made his way up the stairs, leaving them to Evy. Her eyes dimmed as she watched him walk away, and forced a smile on her face as she turned back to the guests. "Well, then. I guess I'll put on a bit of music while he gets cleaned up."
Jonathan frowned as he heard the music coming from downstairs. People just couldn't leave well enough alone, could they? They always had to find reasons to butt into other peoples lives because their own was unsatisfying. Half of the people downstairs didn't even know him. The other half didn't even like him. Who were they trying to fool, putting on fake smiles and invading his home like they were his friends?
Shaking his head in disgust, he went into the bathroom, grabbing his first aid kit from beneath the sink. He made to take off his shirt, wincing when the fabric brushed over his ribs. Bruised, no doubt. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, unhappy with the sight that greeted him.
His left eye was already a nice deep purple, where the imprints of a fist could still be seen clearly. His lip was busted, blood dried upon it and his chin where it had spilled over. A cut ran along his forehead, starting at his hairline and running into his brow. No wonder Evy was upset. He looked horrible.
His torso was in no better shape. Bruises mottled his form, each one a varying color, ranging from blue to black. "I look like a bloody piñata."
"It certainly seems as if you were mistaken for one."
He spun sharply at the unexpected voice, wincing as he did. "Ardeth."
The Medjai's eyes narrowed, not missing the motion. "You should sit down, my friend."
"I'm fine."
"You are not."
Jonathan ignored him, turning back to the sink, maintaining eye contact through the mirror. "Not to sound rude, but what are you doing here?"
"I ran into Evy in the souk today, and she mentioned it was your birthday. I merely came to wish you happiness."
"Well, mission accomplished. Thanks. Now if you wouldn't mind?" He motioned towards the door with a hand full of bandages, dropping a few as he did. "Oh bloody hell, what a day." He bent down to retrieve them, stopping short when his abused hand came in contact with the Medjai's, the tattoos on the warriors dark complexion a major contrast to his pale skin.
He straightened, taking the bandages with a nod of gratitude.
"That is not the only reason I came here today, Jonathan." Jonathan started when his friends fingers strayed on his hand a bit longer than necessary, his blue eyes coming up to clash with brown.
"Ardeth--"
"Just hear me out. Please." When Jonathan gave a hesitate nod of approval, Ardeth took a steadying breath, his eyes never straying. "When I first saw you at Humanuptra, I didn't even spare a second thought for you. I judged you to be weak and that was unfair of me." He held up a hand when he saw Jonathan open his mouth to interrupt.
"Please. Let me finish." He took a another breath and Jonathan found his attention drawn to the lips, and his eyes took on a life of their own, tracing the outline of his face before finding their way back to his eyes. He drew in a breath himself when he saw the emotions raging through them.
"As we found ourselves in each others company more often, I began to see you in a new light. Instead of the weak and useless individual I thought you to be, you proved to be brave, loyal, and you stayed by your friends side when they needed you the most. You helped to destroy the creature and for that, I'll be eternally grateful."
"Ardeth--"
"After you left, I found myself thinking of your more often, whether I was training or making trips through the desert. Finally one of my men said something to me that got me thinking."
There was a slight pause as Ardeth looked away and Jonathan shifted his weight. "What did he say?"
"He said, 'Love is simple yet complex. I find that sometimes we find ourselves thinking of someone we should not, whether it is by choice or by a force we can not control. Who we love is not accidental. It is fate."
"What exactly are you saying to me?"
"I am trying to say I fell in love with you."
"I-I don't know what to say. I mean-" He sighed letting his words trail off. "What do you expect me to say?"
"The truth."
"The truth? Ardeth, you can't just come in here and claim you love me and expect me to just accept it, or know what to say to you! It doesn't work that way!"
"Then how does this work?"
"I don't know! Just not like this!"
"I am sorry you feel this way. I will leave."
"Maybe that would be for the best."
"Do you really think so?"
Jonathan looked away, saying nothing.
"Jonathan--"
"Look, I'm sorry I over-reacted. It's just that I--"
Whatever he was about to say was cut off when Ardeth stepped forward, giving him a chaste kiss. "You talk too much."
"Ardeth--"
"Entirely too much." He gave the younger man another kiss, this time lingering for a moment before pulling away.
"Hmm, yes, entirely."
"Do you still wish me to leave?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. That was some confession you know."
"Was it now?"
"Yes." He leaned forward slightly, his lips meeting the Medjais. "Much better than what mine would have been."
Ardeth pulled away slightly, his gaze meeting Jonathans. "Yours?"
"Yes, mine."
"If you knew you had feelings for me, why did you react in such a manner?"
"Think of it from my view point. One - I've been planning to confess my feelings to you for weeks now, and just haven't had the courage to do so, Two - I didn't know if you felt the same way about me which made me even more anxious, Three - you come barging in here with a confession of you own before I even had a chance to finish said confession. I was confused, scared, and, in case you haven't noticed, a little drunk."
"Just a little?"
"Ok, a lot drunk. Your point?"
"My, such vocabulary you display when you are inebriated."
"If all you're going to do is tease me, you might as wel—"
"Jonathan?"
"Yes?"
"Shut up and kiss me."
He obliged, and the Medjai smiled against his lips, sighing contentedly. "Happy birthday, Jonathan."
Piñata's back then, you ask? I have no clue. If yes, then great. If not...I claim authors sovereignty! ...I do that a lot, don't I? Maybe I should just start looking things up... All in all, I am very happy with this story. Well until the end anyway. I got to the "I over-reacted" comment and it all went downhill from there. But I hope you enjoyed it despite the fact.
Anyway, If you guys see any mistakes or have any suggestions to fix it, don't be shy.
Until next time!