Chapter 2: Pointy-Eared Street Punks
CONTENT:
Rating: Mature
Flavor: Comedy/Drama
Language: maybe
Violence: no
Nudity: only wet half-naked elves (m)
Sex: snogging, foreplay, segue (m/m)
Other: none
Number of Gratuitous Jack Deaths: 0/0
Author's Notes:
More elves settling in. No, it's not in this chapter YET!
If you enjoy Dragon Age: Torchwood, remember to also check out the Dragon Age: Torchwood clips. "Called on the Carpet" goes with this episode, and there will be a few more clips dealing with various aliens and stuff stuck here from the Rift Storms. (If I ever write them. I always have plans, they just don't always happen! In a timely manner...)
Note: future entries in this episode may appear as chapterlets. Also, several may be posted at once. Don't use the "" button when new parts come out, use the chapter list to get to where you last left off.
British facts and statements thereof checked by Kage Stratten. Except where I didn't. If I screwed anything up, blame him. Uh, I mean, all errors are my own! If they're REALLY stupid, point them out. :X
Recap:
The world has survived the End of Days, just a little bit worse for wear. Jack has revived after four days, to the relief of his team, and the elves stuck at the Torchwood Hub. Jack told them they could go, but they didn't get too far. After some food and a debriefing, and a misplacement of the elves' tracking devices, Jack went to offer them a recruitment speech.
Bannon and Zevran are Grey Wardens, fighters against evil monsters called darkspawn. They don't want to stay on Earth, but if they want to get home, the Torchwood 3 Rift manipulator is their only ticket home - even though Jack has no intention of letting it ever be used again.
After a tough round of paperwork, the elves are unofficial Torchwood operatives, off on an adventure at the local mall.
Pointy-Eared Street Punks
===#===
Jack looked down over the rail as Ianto returned from the shopping mission with the elves. The young office manager looked harried. In fact, he may even have had a few hairs out of place. It looked as if he'd been running his hands through it, or perhaps trying to tear it out. Wearily, he climbed the stairway to report.
"Ianto, I thought I asked you to get them clothing that would blend in."
Ianto sighed. "It's what they wanted."
Owen came by on his way from the greenhouse. He looked over the rail. "Ye gads, the 80's live."
Bannon had on black sneakers and charcoal cargo pants that had at least twenty pockets on them. His shirt seemed decent; Jack couldn't get a good look at it under the black trench coat that hung nearly to the floor.
Zevran had black and chrome motorcycle boots and, were those leather pants? A red bandana circled his head, concealing his ear points. His T-shirt was black with some kind of heavy metal winged motif, and his short black leather jacket was liberally festooned with bright zippers.
"Seriously?" Jack asked. "It had to be the Michael Jackson look?"
"Zevran is obsessed with zippers," Ianto began wearily.
He was interrupted as the exuberant elf bounded up the stairs. "Look at this! These little tiny metal bits! There is no way you can fit them together..." He demonstrated with one of the open zippers as he spoke. "And yet you do this-! And they are now together in a solid wall you cannot pull apart! Not even a dwarven master smith could create such a marvelous thing! It is amazing!"
"Brilliant," Owen snarked as he tried to edge his way past the bouncing elf. Zevran ran off to show Gwen.
"And," Jack continued, "you thought it a good idea to feed that obsession?"
Ianto rolled his eyes towards Jack. "Since he was feeding his obsession by zipping and unzipping Bannon's fly, in public, and we did not want to get arrested... yes. Bannon and I unanimously agreed he should have that jacket."
Jack frowned slightly. It seemed odd for a new recruit - and an alien one at that - to be making decisions alongside an established Torchwood agent. But he shrugged it off. It was just a jacket, and no doubt a good idea.
Aloud, he said, "Tell me that's not all you bought them."
"Of course not, sir. Standard coveralls in various colours, work boots, spare trainers, an array of jeans and sweats, Tees, sweaters, button shirts, sundry undergarments... And in case of emergency, one dress suit each, in their size."
Jack pursed his lips and nodded. "It's about time for dinner; take them with you to Jubilee's." Ianto gave him such a hangdog expression, he quickly amended, "Maybe Gwen can go with you. Gwen!" he called down. She looked up, perhaps hoping to be rescued from Zevran's zipper demonstration. "When are you going to bring Rhys in?"
"Friday night. Should be able to get him to go out with me for 'something special,' and then recover over the weekend."
Yeah, that was if he passed the physical. Still, it was a good a plan as any. "All right. Go with Ianto and the elves to get pizza."
She nodded.
Jack turned to Ianto. "What? Get them to carry the pizza boxes for you."
"They don't do servant work."
"Why, what are they? Princes?"
"It seems elves were enslaved by humans for many generations. And 'city elves,' which they are, are often relegated to positions of servitude and labor."
"Hm." Jack filed that bit of information away. "Well, everyone at Torchwood pulls their own weight. Don't let them walk all over you. Remember, you outrank them." He grinned.
"I will try to keep that in mind, sir."
===#===
The troops gathered in the lounge area for pizza delivery. Owen slouched comfortably at 'his' end of the couch and Gwen joined him there. She had to scoot down to make room for Ianto when he and the elves set the pizza boxes on the coffee table. They were parceled out by the efficient office manager: meat feast at one end, and a lonely mushroom and olives for Gwen, Tosh, and Ianto.
Tosh hit save on whatever computer project she was working on and came over. She sat on the floor, cross-legged on the other side of the table, along with Bannon and Zevran.
Jack noted that Torchwood 3 might need more furniture as well as an extra vehicle. After so many decades, his little team of hand-picked recruits was growing. It warmed his heart, but he was not about to give up the leather couch in his office.
As for himself, he cleared a pile of magazines off the end table so he could use that as a makeshift chair. Gwen passed him a slice of pizza on a napkin from Owen's box.
The elves each had their own large pizza. They peered at the food with curiosity and twitching noses, enticed by the scent, though confused at the alienness of the design. Bannon watched Owen and Gwen, then figured out from there how to separate out a slice, fold up the tip, and take a bite.
"Careful, it's hot," Ianto warned.
That didn't seem to deter the elf as he sank his teeth into the chewy dough and gooey cheese. Zevran watched avidly.
"Not going to check it for poison?" Jack teased him.
Zevran shrugged. "If he drops dead, I will know it is poisoned, no?"
Jack snorted.
Gwen said, "Why would we give them poisoned pizza?"
Jack shrugged at her and started handing out beer bottles from the cooler.
Meanwhile, Bannon was clearly not poisoned, but experiencing some type of cheese-induced nirvana. "Oh," he moaned throatily. "Cheese..." He scarfed another bite.
Zevran looked tempted, but turned to make sad puppy eyes at Tosh. She paused in her chewing, then finished and swallowed. "What's wrong?"
"Could you show me how?"
"It's not that hard, just..." Tosh showed him how to pull up a slice and hold it.
Zevran leaned towards her moonily. "Feed me?"
"Ah, I think you're perfectly capable on your own."
The blond elf sighed. "Did you know, I am an orphan?"
Tosh frowned in sympathy. "I'm sorry."
"May I lay my head on your bosom?"
"No, Zevran." Tosh chomped on her pizza, pointedly shutting him down.
He looked over at Gwen.
"Not a chance," she said pre-emptively.
Owen said, "Do we have to have this at the dinner table?"
Whereupon Zevran made doe eyes at him. "May I lay my head in your lap?"
"Oh, hell no."
The gang had a laugh at that one, either at the doctor's expense or Zevran's. Bannon chided his partner to just eat, already. His food.
Jack snickered and leaned forward to put two bottles down between the boxes where the elves could reach them. "Do you have beer on your world?"
"It's like ale," Ianto supplied.
"Yeah, we have beer." Bannon picked up his bottle and studied the cap. He turned it nearly upside down, probably looking for the seal.
"Don't shake it," warned Ianto.
"This is the good stuff," Jack said. "No screw caps or pop-tops. These require a special tool called a bottle opener." Ianto handed the opener to him after Owen was done with it. The captain demonstrated its use, then tossed it across the table.
Bannon snatched it out of the air. Jack had to admire his fast hands and keen reflexes. It only took him a moment to get his bottle open.
Again, Zevran was content to sit back and watch, then try it himself.
Jack had to wonder about the actual nature of their partnership. At times, Zevran seemed subservient, but at other times, the two would almost be at each other's throats. If they were in a military order - those Grey Wardens - it was certainly a slipshod, undisciplined one. Or else the elves' relationship went deeper. But he hadn't seen any evidence of that, either. Zevran didn't seem to care if Bannon expired of poisoned pizza, and Bannon didn't even bat an eye when Zevran flirted shamelessly.
Except for the fact they came from different cultures, they could be siblings.
Both of them tested the beer and pronounced it good. Well, Bannon seemed to like it a good bit. Zevran scoffed that it was nowhere near as good as 'Antivan brandy.'
"So tell us a bit about yourselves," Gwen invited the elves after they'd slowed down on the food. They did seem determined to eat a whole pizza each. "What do you usually eat?"
"Meat," said Zevran. "Bread and cheese. Actually, this-" he eyed his pizza slice- "is a perfect union of all three." He took an appreciative chomp.
"Do you not have any vegetables? Fruit?"
"Turnips," Bannon muttered. Zevran choked and fell over for no apparent reason. His partner ignored his conniption. "Um... beans, corn, tomatoes. Potatoes." The elf shrugged.
Gwen said, "Yeah, men usually aren't too keen on those for some reason." She shot Jack a glance at him and his meat feast pizza slice. He was sure she meant Rhys.
"We have apples mostly in Ferelden," the elf continued. "And pears. Sometimes grapes."
"Strawberries," Zevran added, recovering and sitting up. "And we have oranges in Antiva. They are the most sweet, the most succulent..." He licked his lips, making them gleam.
"Do you have any favorite foods you like?" Gwen asked.
"In Antiva, we have fish chowder."
"Ugh," Ianto opined.
"Well, Antiva is really the only place to get a proper bowl of fish chowder."
"I like sausage," Bannon said. His partner started sniggering, so he kicked him, both hands being preoccupied with lifting another floppy slice of pizza to his mouth. "And bacon."
"Do you like any sweets?"
"They have a predilection for candy," Jack noted.
"Cookies," Bannon said, chewing.
"Mmm, snickerdoodles!" Zevran agreed. "And pie!"
"Apple pie."
"I prefer cherry."
"You would."
Zevran snickered and polished off his beer. "Is there more?"
Jack looked at him. "How many would it take for you to get drunk?"
"Are you trying to get me drunk, captain?"
"Just the opposite, trust me."
The elves shared a look, and a shrug. "On this?" Zevran asked. "Two jugs, at least."
Good to know. The elves seemed to have a decent alcohol tolerance, at least. He passed Zevran another beer.
Gwen went on with the get-to-know-you chatter. "Tell us about where you're from. You're from... different countries?"
"I am from Antiva," Zevran said with patriotic pride.
"We could have guessed," said Ianto. The elf did have a bias for 'Antivan this' and 'Antivan that.'
"Antiva City is the greatest, grandest, most beautiful sparkling city."
Bannon continued, imitating the accent, "Antiva City, capitol of Antiva, on the Antivan River, overlooking Antiva Sea."
Zevran punched him in the arm. "And he is from Ferelden, a cold, wet, muddy country that smells entirely of dog."
"But...," Bannon prompted him.
Zevran ducked his head between his shoulders like a recalcitrant child.
"Ferelden is better than Antiva, because...," the other elf continued prodding him.
Zevran sighed and answered in plodding rote. "Because they do not have slavery."
"Right!" Bannon munched his pizza crust in triumph.
Tosh said, "They have slaves in Antiva?"
"Oh, not human slaves," Zevran replied with sarcasm. "That would just be uncouth. Only elves are fit to be slaves, my dear."
"Were you...?" Tosh chewed the inside of her cheek.
"A slave? Indeed! My mother sold me to the Antivan Crows when I was six."
This dire pronouncement was met with silence around the table. Bannon shot his partner an unguarded look, but it was too brief for Jack to read it.
Meanwhile, Zevran was making a sad face at Toshiko. "Perhaps now you will find it in your heart to let me lay my head upon your bosom?"
"That's inappropriate," Tosh tried. She flushed and looked away.
"Slavery," Owen said in disgust. "It's barbaric."
Zevran shrugged and said with a careless air, "I was worth quite the exorbitant sum! And of course the Antivan Crows got more than their money's worth from me." He grinned.
Owen said, "These Crow blokes, that's assassins, right?"
"Si."
"You're an assassin?" Tosh said with some alarm. She must be the only one who hadn't heard the elf bragging about it yet.
"Si! I am the best there ever was!"
And now she was an official member of the club.
Ianto said, "But you're not a slave any more. You could do anything you want. Be anything."
"Why would I want to be anything else? I was trained my entire life; my skills are unmatched."
Owen said, "You could learn new skills. Why stick with... killing people?"
"I enjoy it."
This was met by silence of a different nature. Then Gwen cleared her throat and said, "We don't assassinate anyone here in Torchwood."
Zevran quirked a brow, then looked at Jack.
Gwen also turned to Jack, only her brow wasn't quirked, it was knitted accusingly.
"Well," he hedged, "maybe dangerous alien lifeforms."
That made Gwen's look go steely. Her jaw dropped slightly in a silent huff of annoyance, and he was sure he was going to get an earful about it later.
She turned back to Zevran. "We try not to kill anyone, unless it is the last resort."
Zevran shrugged. Clearly he had his own idea on how often killing was necessary.
"What about you, Bannon?" Jack asked. "You like killing things?"
The elf shrugged noncommittally.
Jack frowned. The last thing he needed were thrill-killers. Then he calmed and reminded himself that they were from a primitive society, where it was probably socially acceptable to settle disputes with swords. That would explain their blase' attitude about it.
Gwen steered the subject back to the elves' homeworld. He hoped she wasn't going to dwell on this too long. It was good for breaking the ice, but the sooner the elves put aside their past ties, the better.
"I'm from Denerim," Bannon said. "Capitol city of Ferelden. I think it's the biggest city in the world."
"Hmph," Zevran interjected. "Antiva City is bigger."
"You think everything of yours is bigger," Bannon said, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, I don't think it's as big as this place."
"Our city is called Cardiff, in South Wales," Gwen told the elves, filling in some local culture. "Along with the rest of England, Scotland, and Northern Ireland, we make up the United Kingdom."
"You have a king?" Zevran asked.
"We have a queen, Elizabeth the Second."
"Do you have a king?" Ianto asked the elves.
Zevran chuckled, and Bannon said, "Yes, we have a king." He couldn't keep his mouth from twitching in amusement, though.
"He doesn't sound like much of a king," Jack said.
"No, it's not that. He's a friend of ours."
Zevran grinned. "Ah, we knew him when! Do you remember the look on his face when he saw the picture of him I painted on his tent?"
"I'm so glad that washed off."
The elves shared easy laughter. Jack's heart sank, just a bit. Despite the primitive conditions of their world, and how much nicer the conveniences of Twenty-first century Earth were, it was going to be hard for them to face the fact they could never go home.
===#===
Informal pizza dinner was a relaxing affair. Then all too soon after, it was cleaning up and tidying. At last, as evening drew on, it was time to get the elves settled into their apartment for the night. Ianto couldn't wait.
As he'd told Jack, he'd already sub-divided his apartment above the tourist shop. It wasn't large to begin with, but really, what did he ever use it for, but to sleep? He didn't require a lot of room. The kitchen was downstairs, alongside the shop; they could all share that.
Ianto looked at the kitchen now, mentally cataloguing potential problems. Stove: Gas burning. Potentially fatal by poisoning the air or burning the place down. Pantry: requires knowledge of use of can openers, probably including a sidebar on electricity. Plus, how to heat the contents of a can? Microwave: explosions.
"This is the refrigerator," he said, moving to the relatively safe large appliance. "The doors of which shall remain closed at all times when you are not directly accessing it." He swung the door open and peered inside along with the elves. They would need to get more fresh fruit and vegetables in. Some lunchmeat and cheese should also work.
"This is where you keep the beer," Zevran noticed right away.
"We're meant to be moderate in our imbibing."
The both of them just gave him a pitying look.
Ianto closed the refrigerator. "If you get peckish during the night, here is the bread." He demonstrated how the plastic clip worked to open and close the bag.
"Oh, you cut it already," Bannon noted. He looked impressed by the thin, regular slices.
"It is very pale," said Zevran, clearly not used to bleached flour.
Ianto contemplated the toaster and all possible resultant disasters. Well, he'd install fresh batteries in all the smoke detectors. "If you would like it toasted, you put the slices in here, and press down this lever until it catches." He did so, then manually released it. "When it is done, it wll pop up, and there's your toast." The elves looked impressed. "Do not stick any knives, forks, daggers, or metal implements into the toaster."
"Why not?" asked Bannon.
"It's very dangerous. You could be killed."
The elf snorted. "We can cook, you know. Usually without killing ourselves." Zevran snickered at his sarcasm. "Where's your wood pile?"
"We do not use wood for cooking, we use gas, and it's very dangerous."
Zevran shook his head. "Why is everything in your house so dangerous?"
"The danger is mitigated by knowledge," Ianto said. "Look, when you were little, didn't you learn not to grab a pot off the fire, or it would burn your hand?" They nodded. "Well, we learn that as children, and also not to leave the gas on, and not to stick forks in the toaster." He sighed wearily. "I'll teach you these things, but not tonight." Tonight, he was utterly knackered. Elf-sitting was like baby-sitting seventeen-year-old toddlers. All he wanted was a hot shower and some quiet time curled up in bed with his current novel.
To help forestall midnight kitchen disasters, Ianto grabbed a bag of pretzels and a bag of crisps, and took the elves upstairs to their apartment. It was very small - or 'cozy' as the realtors would call it. It had a sitting room with a couch, a battered old coffee table, a chest of drawers, and a desk with a chair.
The other half of the apartment was taken up by the bedroom, containing a double bed, a pair of vertical chests of drawers, a closet, and a three-quarters bath.
Ianto set the snacks down on the coffee table, while the elves looked around their new abode like a pair of cats. "There's only one bed," Ianto ventured, looking at their faces for some reaction one way or the other, "but the sofa folds out, if needed."
Zevran peered through the bedroom doorway. "It looks big enough."
Bannon shrugged. "We don't take up a lot of room."
Well, that was completely uninformative. Ianto knew that in medieval times, travelers paid for a bed at the inn, and then piled in as long as there was room for a body. Sometimes four or five or more. The elves' personal lives weren't any of his business, anyway.
He followed them into the bedroom to point out the bathroom amenities. "This is your personal toilet facility. You are solely responsible for its upkeep and cleanliness. We do not have maid servants." And I'm definitely not either, he added silently.
"This is your hamper," he went on. "Soiled clothes go in here. We'll learn about laundry in a day or two."
"We have laundry on our world," Bannon griped.
"Not like this, I am sure," Zevran said eagerly. "It must be that magical laundry you are always after Wynne about."
"These are your toothbrushes. I'm sure you clean your teeth on your world, too."
"Mm, these are nice," said Zevran, not being shy about checking them out. Though Ianto could stand a little more respect for his personal space in the small room.
He ignored the elf as best he could and turned to the shower. "This will be your bathing facility." Before they could ask or complain about anything, Ianto ran down how to work it. "...adjust the hot and cold mix, and then in you go. When finished, be sure to turn the faucets off fully."
He wasn't sure the elves heard that last bit, as they were staring in awe at the spray raining down.
"How long until it runs out?" Bannon asked.
"It won't. But the hot water is stored in a heated tank, and if you empty that, you'll be having a cold shower." Ianto shut off the water. "Now, you can wash up. Your clothes are in here..." He brushed past them and pointed out the closet and drawers. "And I'm sure you're ready for a good night's sleep."
"Nah," said Zevran. "We had candy."
"Yeah, we'll just stay up all night."
Ianto felt his face go slack. "Oh God, no." They wouldn't sleep? Up all night? Getting into mischief? Who was going to watch them? Because Ianto was at the end of his rope. Dangling from the frayed end! "All right, well... wash up, at least." He had to think of something! Aha!
He hadn't thrown out that old portable television; it was stuffed in the bottom of his closet. He wrestled it out and brought it over to the elves' apartment. He meant to get them their own computer and internet - someday, but this would do for now.
Bannon watched him set it up, then Ianto explained how to work the magic picture box. Zevran came out of the shower, quite wet, his long hair down, black tattoos glistening, and a nipple ring glinting along with the water droplets. Wearing a pair of sweats very low on his hips. And, Ianto was fairly certain, nothing else. Not that he was staring. Looking. Whatever.
"Safety rule number one: water and electricity do not mix. Not happily. Zevran, use a towel!"
But the bronze elf couldn't tear his eyes away from the images on the screen. "Is... incredible," he breathed. His partner stared, mouth agape.
Perfect.
"You can watch this all night. Enjoy, gentlemen."
Ianto made his escape. God help us, he thought. He headed straight to his own shower before the elves returned to their senses and used up all the hot water. He skipped the novel and just collapsed into bed, hoping the tourist shop and apartments would still be intact when he woke up.
===#===
Zevran leaned back on the couch, tipping his head to drain the last drops from the pilfered beer bottle. 'Pilfered,' because Bannon had snuck downstairs to retrieve them, but really, hadn't Ianto said he and the elves would share the kitchen? That meant everything in it. Although the human had also said they were supposed to be 'moderate in their imbibing.' Four bottles was moderate. If Ianto complained about those, well... that was definitely the pilfering thief's fault.
Bannon came out of the shower, padding barefoot on the thick rug that covered the whole floor. Zevran's keen senses alerted him to the elf's approach; he turned his head to catch sight of his partner.
And what a sight it was. He was still damp from the shower, water beading on his shoulders and chest. His arms were raised to towel his long hair, delineating the lean muscle of his torso. The bejeweled ring in his left nipple glinted.
Bannon ambled around to join Zevran on the couch, draping the towel across his shoulders as he did so. "These pants are really soft," he noted. Zevran had to agree. Despite their shapelessness and lack of utility and durability, these 'sweat pants' were as soft as a lamb - not like rough leather or stiff linen. And Zevran had to admire the tented bulge at the front. The soft, warm fabric against his own bare skin left him feeling quite elated, as well. The corner of his mouth curled.
Bannon sat beside him, his knee pressing Zevran's leg. Zevran put the empty bottle on the table, then leaned in for a lingering kiss. Bannon's tongue tip touched lightly along the underside of Zevran's lip. It tingled faintly, and Zevran showed his appreciation by toying with Bannon's ring.
Zevran's nipple perked in sympathy, his own ring vibrating minutely as the thief's thumb caressed it. Bannon's other hand slid, slowly, down the ridges of Zevran's abdomen, down, down between his legs, applying warm pressure over the fuzzy cotton.
"Did I ever mention how lucky I am?" Zevran murmured against his lover's mouth.
"Mmm... only several hundred times."
Zevran chuckled. "But what a marvelous place we have landed in, no? Such food, such drink. Such wonderful magics! That showering device! Truly, it is heaven, and I hope to never again suffer the monstrosity of those stone pig troughs you Fereldans use to bathe in!"
Bannon's face darkened. "Zev, we have to get back. My family..."
Zevran frowned. He himself had no family, and frankly, considering how Bannon's had treated him, he couldn't understand the other elf's devotion to them.
"All our friends are there," Bannon said, changing tack. He knew Zevran had no attachments. "Our responsibilities."
Zevran scowled and pushed Bannon's hand away. He looked at the antics of the tiny people inside the magic box.
Bannon sighed and pulled away slightly. "Think about Alistair. Maker, you want to leave him in charge of Ferelden on his own?"
Zevran was not swayed by the humor. What did he care, anyway? If the whole nation of Ferelden collapsed, what difference did it make to him? Things would happen, the world would carry on. It hardly mattered what one elf did.
Didn't Bannon see? Zevran was finally, finally truly well and away from the Crows. They simply didn't exist here. He could stop looking over his shoulder, waiting for a knife in his back. He could walk down a street without concern about being stalked and shadowed, buy a meat pie without worry someone had paid off the vendor to slip some poison into it.
He was the greatest Antivan Crow, a legend. The only one to escape the clutches of that organization. Bannon had bought him amnesty, but any Crow looking to make a name for himself would love nothing better than to claim the infamy of being the one to slay the legend.
Zevran was a marked man. But not here. Here, he was truly free.
"Zev." Bannon tugged at his arm and spoke his name more insistently. He met those dark eyes that looked intently into his face. "Look, none of that is more important than you. If some demon popped up and showed me two portals, and said that through one was my family, my life, the whole world; and through the other was you - I would give that all up and go with you. In a heartbeat."
It was almost impossible to tell when the thief was lying. Zevran searched his face, searched the mysterious depths of his eyes, but knew it was futile. He also knew, beyond any doubt, that his lover's words were true.
"But we can get back," Bannon went on. "Together. Maybe not right now, but... eventually." Bannon clasped his hand. "We're important," he said with conviction. "Think of the arlship. The future of our people - we could make it so much better. We have the power."
Zevran lowered his eyes. "There are no Crows," he said, hating the sound of a petulant and frightened child in his voice.
"Aw, lethallin..." His hand cupped Zevran's cheek. "You're not worried about them?"
Zevran shook his head, but said nothing.
Bannon chewed his lip. "You really want to stay? For... the rest of our lives?"
Zevran could hear the tension in his voice. Bannon was facing that demon right now. Facing that choice between everything in the world that he held dear, and the one that he loved. If Zevran said yes, the choice would be made. After all they'd been through, there was no room for doubt in Bannon's conviction to be with him.
Still... could Zevran deny him even the slim hope of return? Of course not. He released his tension in a sigh, then chuckled dryly. "Not forever, no. But is a nice vacation, si?" He grinned and met Bannon's eye. "Besides, we cannot leave until we figure out how to rig one of these showers up at the Keep!"
"Just one?" Bannon leaned forward, his hand drifting now to Zevran's thigh. "Hell, I'm going to figure them out and sell them to everyone!"
Zevran found his grin came easier with his partner's greedy attitude. Trust a city elf to look out for ways to acquire coin!
Now Bannon was looking at him with those soulful eyes. His tongue ran slowly back and forth along his upper lip, and Zevran's grin edged towards a leer. He leaned back sidewise against the arm of the couch to allow his lover to continue where he'd left off.
Another thing they were going to need before they went back would be a bale of these amazing pants. They stretched so easily, it was like magic getting them on and off. Zevran rested his hands lightly on Bannon's muscular shoulders as the elf bent over him. He let his head loll back and his eyes drift closed. A contented sigh escaped his lips.
Such a lucky, lucky elf.
===X===
End Notes:
"Mmm... only several hundred times."
- 5,000 Bloodsong points if you know Daemon's response to Mike the TV, here. From the ReBoot movies/specials. Yes, I stole her joke. It's hilarious!