A/N: I just keep updating this! I bet my readers over at the Darren Shan-fandom freak when they see this… All I can say is: Shavel. Your argument is invalid.

This chapter is set in the Dead Men/War-era, hence the other pairing mentioned. Oh, and this is how they get together ;)

Oh, and it was one of my besties' birthday this Saturday, so this chapter is dedicated to the angelic Anna. You know I love you, sweetie! :3

Too Much Pain.

His leg hurt. His leg hurt as fuck.

They'd fought Vengeous this time, and he'd stared with those damn golden eyes and he'd shattered his femoral. Hopeless and Rue, with their – compared to the rest of them – superior medical knowledge, had done a fine job at wrapping his leg up and getting him back to their tent.

And now he was missing out on the fun. Oh, what he'd give to get out there and give the Baron the beating of his life. How he wanted to use the air to bash his skull in. But no, he had to wait. Mature as he was, he soon found himself glaring intensely at his leg, whilst imagining himself crushing the Baron's brain. If it was one thing Erskine Ravel hated, it was not doing anything. He loathed not doing anything in wartime.

He didn't know how long a time had passed before Shudder opened the tent-flap, having to stoop down to get through the opening.

"What are you doing here?" Ravel asked, quite sourly.

"There isn't much left of Vengeous's army." Anton answered, fighting to keep a smile out of his voice as he observed his friend's five-year-old-demeanour. "So they sent me to check up on you."

"What of Vengeous himself?"

"He got away." Something dark seemed to slither across the Adept's face.

"Oh." Erskine crossed his arms and pouted again, before the question he'd been pondering for weeks slipped out. "Are you sleeping with Larrikin?"

Anton's eyes widened in surprise. "No. Why?"

"Oh, nothing. Dexter's been a bit edgy, and it seems like you don't find Larrikin's annoying whispers as annoying, that's all." He realized that he sounded too observant.

"He hasn't mentioned anything. Maybe I should talk to him, make sure he and Dexter are doing alright."

"Maybe you should." Erskine's voice was soft, strangely so.

They sat in silence for a while, before Shudder spoke up again. "Why are you asking me about Larrikin anyway? You could ask him yourself."

"I didn't ask about Larrikin." Ravel's eyes flickered nervously across the taller man's features. "I asked about you." He looked away, biting his lower lip.

"Oh."

"Yes." He fidgeted, hated his leg a bit more for keeping him trapped, and didn't look up.

There was shifting beside him, and a rough, warm palm rested on top of his hand. "Erskine…"

"No." He tried to retract his hand, but the long, lean fingers kept a firm grip. "Don't bother. Just forget that I said anything."

"Why should I?" The question was calm, serious.

"Because you're… You're not…" The Elemental's voice was a faltering slur, and he didn't quite know what he was saying. When Anton leaned closer, he didn't know what he was saying at all.

Dark, dark brown. "Why should I?" It was a soft murmur this time, accompanied by a warm breath that made his lips tingle.

He leaned forward, and now there were soft lips on his, and his heartbeats were erratic. The war outside faded to nothing, and the only truly real thing was the feeling of soft, raven hair tangled around his fingertips. Before he could recall how to think properly, his fingers had found their way beneath Shudder's shirt, tracing far too prominent ribs, and–

He yelled abruptly, and Anton pulled back, all worry. "What happened?"

"I hate that damn leg!" The Elemental responded angrily, glaring at the limb that he had accidentally tried to shift.

The other male's lips curled up, and he burst out laughing, which was something Erskine had never seen him do. The Adept's whole demeanor brightened, and for a moment he stopped looking haunted.

He pressed another kiss to Ravel's lips. "Ghastly's going to come by with some food any minute. I'll be back later." He got up, a happy expression still lingering on his face, and left the tent.

Erskine sank back into the bed, and rejoiced at the fact that he now had something to distract himself with.

Later.

A/N: Aaaaw! I'm thinking about writing the later-part in the next chapter and give it a bit of M, although not very long or explicit. Tell me what you think, please ;)