Eric stepped through the portal to arrive in a scene straight out of hell. He hadn't meant to arrive in the lobby again, but there he was and there were bodies all over the floor. Undertaker's bizarre dolls were feeding on the corpses and the sight was so ghastly that even a reaper like Eric couldn't help but recoil. He was rarely troubled by the sight of blood and gore but this was too much even for him. The Scot clamped a hand over his mouth as the sight and smell of it all threatened to make him lose his breakfast. He quickly sprinted towards the emergency stairs, foregoing the elevator as a possible death trap. He ran into two enemy reapers on his way up, but they wanted nothing to do with him. Realizing they were only trying to escape when they didn't draw weapons on him, Eric called out a warning.
"Wouldn't go down tae th' lobby if I were yeh. It's full o' zombies an' they aren't gonna let yeh pass as they did me."
The pair—a tall man with brown hair and a younger, shorter one with blond hair—stopped in their tracks and regarded him uncertainly. Eric sighed and combed his fingers through his wavy locks, considering the best course of action to take. "If ya surrender yer weapons tae me an' cooperate, I'll see tae it yer fairly treated. Ye'll even be released tae yer organization wi' any others we've taken prisoner, when this day's o'er."
They looked at each other, weighing their options. The blond was shaking visibly and Eric found himself feeling sorry for him. The kid couldn't be any older than Ronald was—possibly even younger. "I'm no' misleading ya," promised Eric in a gentler voice. "Our goal's only tae take back our branches yer associates stole from us. We've only been killing when we've had no other choice, lad."
The brunet slowly withdrew his pistol, nodding at his younger companion assertively. "Surrender to the Scotsman, Daniel. We've little other choice."
Eric took their weapons—including their original death scythes. He nodded and jerked his whiskered chin at the stairs. "Yer making tha right choice. Now head up tha stairs tae the Dispatch office floor. I'll be right behind ya."
He wasn't foolish enough to turn his back on them even though they'd cooperated and relinquished their scythes to him. The pair started up the stairs and Eric waited for them to get in front of him before following. They made it up to the Dispatch floor after a while and Eric was relieved to see that his people were still holding the area. Several Revivalist agents were cuffed and sitting against the wall, and Lawrence was shouting orders. Evidently the two teams had met up again and Eric could see Grell cuffing another enemy.
"Got two more fer ya," announced Eric. "Ran intae these two on my way up. They surrendered tae me."
"You get my Unnie to safety?" Grell asked, pulling out another pair of cuffs and slapping them onto Daniel's wrists before moving to do the same to his companion. "Go have a seat with your friends in the blood-free zone."
The redhead jerked his head to the wall where all their prisoners were lined up, "And behave yourselves, We don't need any more of you trying to fight us in the safe zone. That kind of defeats the point of it all." He ushered the two in the direction of the wall and returned his gaze to Eric. There was no hiding the worry in his eyes.
"They're taking care o' yer man right now," assured Eric. "I'm sure he'll be fine, Grell. He'll be cracking his morbid jokes again in no time."
He looked around as Fabian's team prepared to move on to the next floor. "So are we staying here tae keep this floor secured, or are we moving up wi' them tae clear out ano'er one?"
"We're moving up. I have assigned a few of our agents to keep this floor secure and keep watch of these ones." Grell jabbed his thumb at the line of captives, "I'm assuming this raid won't last much longer. The real fighters all met us right off. As we move up we get more and more kids who'd just as soon make a run for it. Some of them surrender right off without even drawing their scythes. It makes for a dull fight."
He turned to address the others on his team. "Lets head on up to the next level! Those of you staying here, keep this one secure. We'll send down any more prisoners to you as we get them. Uhh-you." he pointed to one of their agents from their original group, "You're in charge down here."
The agent nodded and gave the "death" salute. Anderson checked his watch and he nodded at the exit. "I shall remain behind while you and Mister Olson lead your teams up to the next level, agent Sutcliff. Should anything go amiss I will contact you immediately. Hopefully the remaining enemy agents have not had the opportunity to send for aid and we can finish this without any further casualties."
"Right, let's go," said Eric with enthusiasm. He was right by Grell's side as they left through the exit and charged up the stairs behind Fabian's team. Grell was absolutely right; the only Revivalists they ran into on the next floor were fledgling reapers, and only a few put up a fight at all. Most of them threw their hands up in surrender the moment they saw the Dispatch agents pour out of the fire escape door.
Eric got the satisfaction of shooting one of them in the leg as he tried to make a break for the window, and he saw Grell block the attack of another and counter it with his chainsaw. The rest wanted nothing to do with a fight.
"Disappointing," observed Fabian as he counted out the numbers. "I haven't even been scratched today."
Eric did a mental check of the layout as Father Anderson had described it. "Damn, this is tha last floor, too. I'll take a few agents wi' me tae check tha bathrooms an' supply closets on this floor while yeh an' Grell take care o' tha prisoners."
"Look in the air ducts as well," suggested Olson. "Earlier I found one of them hiding in one of them."
"I'm out of restraints, Hey, Ronnie, lend me a hand?" Grell said, pulling the agent he'd disarmed up to his feet. But of course he didn't get a response from the blond.
"Ronnie?" Grell blinked, looking around the room, "Where's Ronald? He' not hurt is he? You! Girl, you were my Ronnie's partner, right? where is he? -Hey! If you try running again, I promise I'll cut both your feet from your legs!" he warned his captive.
The German girl shook her head, "We were separated quickly. I think spotted him fighting along side that computer guy in the first section we took. I have been working with these two." she glanced at the reapers next to her.
"What computer guy? Has anyone else seen Ronald?" he called out in worry.
Fabian heard him and he was quick to reassure him. "He and Alexander left together earlier," explained the Danish reaper. "Alex was not coping well with the battle and Ronald chose to go with him. They're both safe."
Grell let out a sigh of relief, "As long as he isn't hurt somewhere-or worse. Okay, lets get this place wrapped up nice and secure. " As he spoke, Grell yanked a phone cord from a desk phone and used it to tie the reaper's hands with skill. It wasn't as secure as cuffs, but it'd do for now.
Fabian assisted him and he ordered one of his team members to escort the new prisoners down to Anderson. Eric came jogging back a few moments later, and the group he'd taken with him brought with them two more young reapers. One of them had a stain on his crotch and the Scotsman glanced at him with a blend of disgust and pity as he spoke to Grell.
"This looks like all of 'em. I think we can handle things here if ya want tae portal back tae London Headquarters and check in on yer man, Grell." He looked to Anderson. "Pops, are ya ready tae send word out fer negotiations?"
Lawrence turned away from the agent he was speaking with and he nodded. "I shall inform Mr. Jeffries immediately and advise him to come assist. Please see to it that any injured prisoners are seen to and offer all of them refreshment, Agent Slingby."
Eric nodded and he turned back to Grell. "Sound good tae yeh, Grell?"
Grell nodded, "At least Unnie didn't miss much." he sighed, "I'll send our Mister Alex back over for communications with the enemy."
With that, Grell opened up a portal back and stepped through. Once back in London, he sent word that the battle was over and that Anderson would be soon ready to try to negotiate.
The infirmary wasn't nearly as busy as it had been after they had retaken London, and Grell quickly spotted his silver lover laying on his side as a medical reaper stitched him up with soul thread.
"So it was serious." Grell observed, walking over to him and reaching out to brush silver bangs away from his face, "You didn't miss much. They surrendered quickly after that first wave of fighting."
"Ah, pooh," grumbled the mortician playfully, offering a wan smile up at his lover. "And here I was hoping there might be more carnage." His eyes were fully visible thanks to the haircut he'd accepted to look more like his old self, and they caressed Grell intimately. "No ouchies, eh? 'Course, I'll be happy to give you a more thorough look-over later on after they let me out of here."
He winked at Grell suggestively, in good humor even though his lips were virtually colorless and there were dark circles under his eyes. Fortunately they'd deadened the area around his injury, so he couldn't feel the needle going in as they stitched him up.
"I'll gladly strip down and let you touch, but you are to get rest and heal up, my love." Grell leaned over and stole a kiss. "I'll be sure to reward you if you can be a good boy while you heal up. I'll make you cookies and everything."
"Mm, cookies," sighed the mortician. "That a promise, love?" The medic informed that she was finished with his back and she requested that he roll over so that she could inspect what she'd already done with the exit wound in the front. Undertaker obliged and he looked down with mild interest to inspect the work himself. "Your suturing's improved, love," he complimented her.
Jenna glanced up with a smile of pleasure. "Thank you, sir. I've done my best to improve. It seems we're all done here so why don't you just relax and chat with your spouse for a while?"
Undertaker almost explained to her that Grell wasn't his spouse, but then he looked at the crimson reaper and he couldn't stop staring. Why in buggery Styx not, after all? They'd nearly had a child together and he could barely keep his hands off of him. All it took from Grell was a glance to make the Undertaker randy and breathless.
He kept staring as the nurse left them alone together, and he finally blurted his thoughts out after a moment. "Why aren't we married yet, darlin'?"
Grell blinked in surprise, "Because we have only had time for one wedding and Allie stole up that spot with his handsome Scot," he said simply. He slipped onto the uncomfortably firm infirmary bed and let Undertaker place his head in his lap. "And you never seemed interested in such a commitment. It is one level of a relationship even I wouldn't push, Darling, it's a huge step for reapers and it can't be reversed, unlike human marriage."
The mortician closed his eyes, thinking the matter over as he absently kneaded Grell's thigh like a cat. "I've been thinking," he murmured, cracking his eyes open again and staring at the wall through the veil of his lashes, "mayhap after all we've been through together it mightn't be such a bad idea."
What he really wanted to say was that he'd also been considering the conversation they'd had about trying again someday for another baby. In his heart, however, he feared bringing that particular matter up again. That loss had been so unexpectedly painful for the both of them, and he wondered if he should wait longer to make mention of it. He turned his head and he looked up at his lover. "I was never much for that sort of commitment before, I know. Things have changed though, m'dear."
"Are you sure you want this with me?" Grell asked with an unsure frown. "Our love hasn't exactly been...fairytale. Eric and Alan have a perfect connection—hell, even Will and Ron had a better love than us. You and I...we sort of...broke up twice. Whenever we're thrown a shock by fate, you leave and I get angry..."
He sighed and leaned back, looking upwards. "I love you more than I have ever loved anyone else, but I can't help but question if we should take the vows of marriage. I never thought I'd say this, but I need time to think on it, and I think you should, too."
The Undertaker fought off a sense of acute disappointment and he somehow resisted sulking. Yes, he'd made some bad decisions during the course of their relationship, but he'd never expected to fall so deeply in love with this reaper. The way he saw it, their ability to stay together despite the hurt and the loss and the strife was proof enough...but he wasn't the sort to let himself feel sorry for himself for too terribly long. He saw the pitying look that Jenna gave him and he shook his head at her in silent warning not to get emotionally invested in his personal issues.
"That's fine, love," he murmured to Grell, shutting his eyes again so that the redhead wouldn't see the hurt in his gaze. "You do what you need t' do. It's all anyone can expect after all this."
Maybe real love simply wasn't in the works for him. Maybe he really was destined to be a crazy old hermit alone forever, after all was said and done. He'd managed to make it this far under such circumstances and he doubted he'd have really noticed the difference if it weren't for Grell finding his way into his heart.
~I should just make myself scarce when we've finished with all this. Vanish for a while and mayhap set up shop in some other location...lick my wounds and...and what?~
The Undertaker frowned, familiar with this impulsive thought pattern. Hiding. That's what he'd been doing for so long, and he was so used to it that it was almost second nature to him. It was his first reaction to rejection. How could he prove he was serious to Grell if he vanished into the night at the earliest opportunity?
But it did hurt...
"I'm sorry." Grell looked back down at Undertaker and rubbed his cheek with the backs of his fingers. "Let's just...stay as we are for a while longer before making such a commitment. Let's make sure what we have is real. That those two times where we were apart were just flukes. That it wasn't because we aren't as compatible as we feel we are."
He bent over and kissed Undertaker's eyelids. "I want to marry you, but I want to make sure it's the right thing for us both."
Hearing Grell admit that he did want to wed him salved the sting of rejection somewhat, and the Undertaker dared to open his eyes again to gaze up at him. He forced a smile for his benefit and he tried to sound light-hearted. "No rush, darlin'. It's just a thought that's been going through my head since...since..."
He trailed off uncertainly. When Grell had told him he wanted to try again someday, he'd been the one to suggest they wait and revisit the idea when things calmed down. Now there he was doing the same thing—even if it was a different sort of proposal. The mortician pushed aside the part of him that wondered why Grell would suggest trying for another baby if he wasn't certain they were compatible, because he still believed that at the time, Grell's suggestion was born of grief.
A low chuckle escaped his lips. "My, my," he breathed, his grin becoming more genuine. I'm a hypocritical ol' fart at times."
"How so?" Grell met his gaze, clearly unaware of all that was going on in the elder's mind.
Undertaker waited until the medic was finished with him and he asked her for a private moment before answering the question. When she nodded respectfully and left, he addressed Grell again. "You remember when you brought up the possibility of trying again after we lost our little one? How I cautioned to give it more time to be sure it was right for us, or whatnot?"
He couldn't recall exactly what he'd said but that was the gist of it.
Grell nodded solemnly, "I do. And you were right to do so." He rubbed his hand along Undertaker's arm, "And I still want to try again later. But we don't need to take the vows to try having another child. Many parents never take the vows..." he pointed out.
"I s'pose so," sighed the Undertaker. He was growing sleepy from the pain medications they'd given him. It certainly took long enough for it to set in, but he had a rather high tolerance to such things. He was still inwardly disappointed, but that was just his boyish side speaking. He really did understand Grell's reasoning. He started to drift off to sleep with his head resting on his lover's lap, still absently kneading his thigh.
He wasn't even consciously aware of it when he mumbled: "Love you, li'l rose."
"I love you too, Darling." Grell smiled, "Go to sleep. I'll bring you to our room once they let you go."
Which he did. Once he was given clearance to take Undertaker out, the redhead gathered his lover into his arms, carrying the legendary reaper bridal-style to his office and laying him out on the unfolded futon. He stripped the man's boots off before tucking him in and kissing his cheek.
After the successful takeover of the Manchester branch, the Dispatch loyalists began to spread out and take back other smaller branches. The Undertaker recovered with remarkable speed, to the surprise of his colleagues. Eric could only shake his head at the ancient's rapid healing, recalling all too well how long it had taken him to mend from a scythe gunshot wound. He'd been laid up for days himself and the simple act of trying to be intimate with Alan had re-opened his wound and gotten him bedridden for a further three days.
"How do ya do it, auld man?" He asked the Undertaker as they walked together to a meeting, eight days after taking back Manchester headquarters. "Yer spry as a teenager an' planning tae go on tha next raid. It took me two blasted weeks tae heal up enough tae be fit fer a fight, last time I caught a scythe bullet."
The mortician shrugged his lean shoulders and cast a sidelong grin at Eric. "Could be us ancients are just made better, chap. You know the old saying: 'They don't make 'em like they used to'."
Eric snorted. "Keep dreaming."
The Undertaker laughed, finding Eric's resentment amusing. He patted him on the shoulder solicitously as they opened the door to join the gathering. "You'll do fine. I'm just a fossil and mayhap my skin's grown a bit thicker over time."
Inside the meeting room, all of the council leaders were already seated—including Grell, Ronald and Alex. Due to their hard work, they had been promoted. Undertaker took his seat next to Grell and Eric sat down beside Alan as Lawrence began the meeting.
"Sorry we're late," murmured Eric to his spouse. "Have we missed anything?"
Alan shook his head, "The meeting hasn't started yet. But Matthew missed his daddy." The baby boy in question was laying comfortably against his mother's shoulder, the leg of a plush purple cat with a rattle inside clutched in his fist and dangling down.
Matt was a happy, quiet baby when all his needs were met, so with a fresh nappy and a full tummy, Alan had brought him to the meeting, knowing that he wouldn't start fussing.
The brunet then, not caring to wait for Eric to agree to it or get ready, transferred the baby into his father's arms. The boy let out a happy giggle to greet the man, reaching up to grab at the tuft of hair on Eric's chin. The action earned more than a few adoring smiles from those in the room before eyes turned to Lawrence.
Anderson also smiled at the picture that the small family made together, and then he sobered a bit and he took his pipe out. He would never light it during a meeting even though he'd recently been able to purchase new tobacco. It was always his go-to just to gather his thoughts. He sucked on it for a moment before addressing the assembly.
"Well then, let's get this meeting underway, shall we?" He stood up at the head of the table and he cleared his throat before continuing. "Our broadcast after taking back the Manchester branch has caused quite a stir. People are beginning to rally behind us and more agents that have been drafted into the Revivalist ranks have begun to push back. It came to our attention this morning that the New York branch in reaper America has been taken back by our allies. That still leaves Copenhagen and at least six more capital branches to liberate, but we've accomplished an incredible number of things since re-taking our division."
He paused and he went to his seat to pick up a file folder on the table before it, and he opened it to read through it before going on. "I propose that our next target be the Copenhagen branch in Denmark." He glanced at Fabian Olson as the flaxen-haired reaper straightened up a bit in his chair with interest. "We have been promising to move in on Copenhagen for some time now, and I believe our numbers are great enough for a liberation attempt. I propose a strike on Copenhagen Dispatch headquarters, as soon as possible."
"Gahh!" Matthew was the first to voice his approval, though his attentions were more focused on his father and his toy cat.
Grell giggled, "The youngest has spoken, and he agrees it is a good plan. Now we just need our plan of attack."
Ronald nodded and turned his gaze to Fabian, "You, uh... Salty's boyfriend." he flushed, not recalling the man's name. "Isn't that where you are from or something? You'd know the layout of the place, right?"
Fabian nodded and a small smirk adorned his lips. "Like the back of my hand, friend."
Alex grinned at the Dane. "Then I'd best pick your brain today and work out the best route of attack on the schematic I'm going to no doubt be snatching from their database—provided I can get past their system securities." He sighed and looked up at Lawrence. "Father Anderson, I've got one request. Give me at least two days to break past their securities and get that data. Three would actually be best, in fact. If we can pre-map the attack and review it with the teams the day before, it'd really help out our chances."
Lawrence nodded. "Of course. I believe that is a perfectly reasonable request for the Council to agree with. What say you, ladies and gentlemen?" He looked around at the assembly expectantly.
The Undertaker made a toasting motion with his coffee. "Here, here. This one's going to be as tough as London branch was to take back—could be even tougher. I've got no objection to giving the lad an extra day t' pull up an attack plan that might help us through this easier. I myself haven't been to Copenhagen Dispatch in well over a century, so I'd probably end up leading my team into a maintenance closet if I went by my fuzzy memory. Not much of a fight to be had there."
Eric started to voice his agreement when Matthew began to fuss. The pungent aroma of soiled diapers reached his nose and he quickly shifted the infant in his arms and apologized to his compatriots. "Sorry, I'll go' tae change him or he'll cause a distraction. I'm voting 'aye' tae tha motion an' if I miss anything important, Alan can fill me in."
He got up and he made sure to pick up the baby's dropped rattle before assuring his spouse he'd handle it and leaving the meeting room with their son.
"Any dirty nappy I don't have to change is a good one in my book." Alan chuckled as Eric slipped out. He then turned back to the topic at hand. "I'll be happy to assist you, Alex, as I did when we took back London. I like being of help despite my choice not to take part in the fighting so I can be with my son."
"Hey, that reminds me." Ronald reached over to tap the table in front of Alex. "I want to talk to you after the meeting about something a little off topic to bring up here, so no disappearing on me, okay?"
Alexander shrugged. "Sure, that's fine by me. Uh, Mr. Humphries, thanks for that offer. I'm not going to say 'no' because any help is welcome. I really appreciate it that you're offering to step up on that. Not to be mean but some of my other helpers...er...well..." he scratched his head and he blushed and shrugged when Fabian smirked at him. "They mean well but they sometimes hinder more than help. No offense to them."
Fabian's smirk grew into a crooked grin and he glanced away. "None taken. It was the thought that counted. I haven't the head for your specialty, truthfully."
Alex blew a sigh of visible relief, and Lawrence sat back down in his chair at the head of the table after counting raised hands. "It seems we are unanimous. In three days time—provided there are no issues or discrepancies—we shall assemble all strike teams for the liberation mission in Copenhagen. Team leaders, please review new recruits and ensure that they are evenly distributed amongst you. Are there any further questions or concerns that anyone would like to bring up before this meeting comes to a close?"
Nobody offered anything, and Lawrence nodded with satisfaction. "Well and good, then. Mister Jeffries, please do not hesitate to ask for further assistance if required and try not to rush yourself. Everyone else should attempt to get in as much rest as possible, in the meantime."
Once everyone filed out of the boardroom, Ronald caught up to Alex, glancing up at the other boy's lover as he started to speak.
"Um, I know we haven't always gotten along, at least until recently, and...don't take this too hard, but you totally suck at fighting. It's like you forgot what we learned in the academy," he started, getting right to the point.
"I've been thinking since you and I abandoned ship on that last raid... Will's death is too fresh in my heart for me to be of help on raids if people get taken out by headshots...but I still have the skills to fight and defend myself should something happen and the bad guys come raid us, you know?"
He sighed and met Alex's confused gaze, "I want to help teach you to fight again so you won't be so rusty if that happens. I don't want to lose anyone else I care about-and that includes you, Salt-erm, Alex. It doesn't have to be much... just, like, an hour or so after dinner each day."
Alexander was completely taken off-guard by the offer and he put a hand on Fabian's arm when he sensed the older reaper tensing up in response to Ronald's frank comment. He sighed and he took his cap off, running his fingers through his reddish-brown locks.
"All right, I'm gonna level with you here, Lem—er—Ronald. I never even wanted to join Dispatch. My parents wanted me to and well...they both died on the job some thirty years ago. Doesn't really matter I guess. Dispatch kept me on the payroll because I can do things with the aether systems that most people can't and that came in handy. If you really want to teach me to be...uh...less of a nancy in a fight, well I'm happy to do that with you when we can both spare the minutes. Even if I don't go back to reaping again I'd like pointers on defending myself if you think you've got some to give. I just want you to know that I'm never going to have what it takes to be a field agent like you. I solve problems, man. That's what I'm good at. I don't want ya to get frustrated trying to teach me something I'm just not cut out for; but I'm willing to try and learn anything you can show me."
Alex lowered his eyes and he struggled to come up with a closing for the response. Aside from Fabian he really had nobody else he could call his ally. "I also...yanno...appreciate you calling me by name and not just 'Salty'. I know I've got some weird habits and such, but it's nice to see someone try and look past them now and then. Especially someone that didn't really like me. So um...thanks for that."
"It's just for a safety precaution," Ronald promised. "Everyone should know how to defend themselves, and you proved to be too rusty at it." He sighed and turned to the window, looking out at the blue skies.
"To tell you the truth, this whole thing has changed me too. I used to be so damned reckless...and now...I think I'd rather stick to paperwork. At least for a while after this is all over. Field work...could be too tempting for my recklessness right now, and Will wouldn't like that. I don't know-we all have some big life choices to make after this is over. Maybe I'll stop dispatch all together and become a combat teacher at the academy...I was pretty darn good at teaching people to use the guns, so maybe I have a talent for it."
Alex nodded. "I could see that. I guess a few of us are going to have to re-think where we fit in best once this is all over with."
His thoughts went to Fabian and he sighed. The man always seemed so sure of himself...so fierce in a fighting situation. Fabian had tried to school him in combat but it usually ended in groping, with little training to be had by the end. Maybe Ronald would be different. They were both around the same age and there was no sexual frustration to get in the way.
Finally, Alex nodded. "Yeah, I think that'd be good. I keep getting uh...distracted when I try to spar with Fabian and it doesn't end the way it should."
He kept out the part where they ended up making out. That wasn't what Knox needed to hear.
Ronald gave a rueful smirk, "I'm in love, too. I know how trying to train with that special someone can be. When I taught Will to shoot I took advantage of touching...probably was a bit too distracting, to be honest. But don't worry, I won't be that way with you. It was just him. Fabian can come too, if you want him there for security reasons. He may have some pointers I didn't think of."
"Nah, Fabian's real busy and so am I," sighed Alex. "I'll find time to squeeze it in. Don't want to pull him away from his responsibilities if I can help it."
The auburn-haired young reaper summoned his scythe and he examined the black and gold weed-eater thoughtfully. The silver blades that rotated on it were the only variation in the color scheme of it. "You know, even if I decide to give up my position with Dispatch when this is all over with, it's going to be hard to give up this scythe. I know I'm not the best at fighting with it, but it's become sort of a part of me. I honestly don't like reaping and that's why I didn't mind them assigning me to technical support...but...we're reapers."
He made a face at his own words, wondering how he would manage to balance what he loved to do with what he was basically made to do. Not all reapers became Dispatch agents of course; there were plenty of civilian sorts that had mundane jobs and never even set foot in the Great Library or Dispatch headquarters. He couldn't quite silence the voice of his dearly departed father though, reminding him always that he was a god of death and there was no greater honor than wielding a custom made scythe suited for his hands alone. Even civilian reapers had basic scythes allotted to them, but only Dispatch officers were granted the legal right to order a custom-designed one made for them.
"Hey, you earned that thing." Ronald said, patting his shoulder before leaning against the wall, "Just as I earned mine and Legendary Death earned his. I don't think it's right that we have to give it up if we leave Dispatch, ya know? If we break major rules, sure, but if we retire?" he shook his head. "Thing is, we are rebuilding the Dispatch we know and support. That rule may change."
Alexander relaxed, finding Ronald's words comforting. He again reflected on how the other young reaper had matured since they lost Spears and he wondered how he might have changed if it had been Fabian instead. He reached out and patted Ron's shoulder, resisting a sigh of sympathy. Knox didn't need him reminding him of his loss. He could tell that William was always on his mind anyway, and he believed he wasn't imagining things when he said he saw the man's ghost that time.
"I appreciate that, Ronnie. Even though we got off on the wrong foot initially, I kind of think of you as a friend...and I hope you feel the same. If ya ever need an ear t' vent to, mine's always free."
Ronald gave a small nod. "I think I can call you a friend despite how we started out," he agreed. Being on the run certainly had a way of bringing people together. Friendships were both formed and strengthened, and for some, true love was discovered. Their group would never be the same, and Ronald knew it.
"It's almost a shame, splitting up and forging new lives after so long being together...all of us."
Alex nodded in agreement, lowering his gaze. "That's really keen of you. I dunno what's going to happen, but I know I'm going to want to keep in touch with everyone I fought and worked alongside through all this. Whether I end up working inside Dispatch or elsewhere, I'm never going to forget you all."
Embarrassed by his own effusive sentiment, Alex cleared his throat and looked away. "So, what days and times did you want to set up for sparring, then?"
Ron shrugged, "You are busier than me with your computer stuff. Fit me in when you think you can spare it. Your work is pretty important to our cause after all."
Alex checked the time with a sigh. "Well, right now definitely isn't up for grabs. I've got to get together with Fabian to work out a good plan of attack and get the schematic with the routes uploaded to everyone's phones. Maybe after the raid on Copenhagen Dispatch I'll have more time to spare. I'll let you know if I get some time between now and then, though."
Fabian had politely walked a distance away to give them a moment of privacy, but now he was walking back. "Alexander, are you ready? The sooner we do this, the better."
Alex nodded and he gave Ronald an apologetic shrug. "Well, duty calls. Guess I'd better grab an energy drink and buckle down. I should have those schematics uploaded for everyone by tomorrow sometime."
"You imbibe in those 'energy drinks' too often," cautioned Fabian, flaxen brows knitting over his rectangular framed glasses. "It can't be good for you."
"Well, something's got to give me a boost when I'm feeling worn down," argued the hacker. "He waved it away and spoke to Ronald. "See ya later, Ron. I'll let you know if anything changes on my schedule before the raid."
"Yeah, sure." Ronald nodded and turned to go on his way, but then he paused and looked back. "Make sure to eat and get proper rest," he added, knowing that Fabian likely would back it up with his insistence.
Just as Ronald suspected, Fabian nodded and he gave Alexander a stern look. "I'll see to it he does. Good afternoon, agent Knox."
The couple left together, just as Eric came down the hallway from the other direction. The Scot held his son comfortably against his chest, bouncing him gently as he approached in search of his spouse. "Oi, Ronnie...is Alan still in there or did he leave already?"
He covertly looked the younger reaper over, not wanting to openly ask how he was doing but concerned nonetheless. Ronald seemed to be doing much better these days but Eric knew him well enough to tell that half of it was just a front to keep others from babying him.
"Uh, I'm not sure. I think I saw him go up to Pops for something right after the meeting but I wasn't really paying attention to him."
Matthew took his hand out of his mouth and stretched it to Ronald, grinning when Ronald let him wrap his wet fingers around his pinky.
"Hey, Matty, did your daddy get you all cleaned up? Was it a big stinky? Yeah? Good boy!"
"Wasn't too bad," Eric assured with a grin. "It was stinkier than it was messy. Guess tha smell o' his own shite offended him an'...och...hey Alan. There ya are."
Eric flushed as his partner stepped out of the boardroom with a disapproving look on his face and the Scot realized it was because he'd cussed in front of their child. Eric tactfully tried to excuse himself. "He dun' know a curse from a giggle yet, sweetheart, an' most English cannae even tell when I curse anyhow. Takes some time tae get used tae censoring mah words an'...an'...yer still lookin' at me tha' way..."
"Children are sponges, Eric," Alan scolded, crossing his arms. "He'll know your accent just as well as mine, and so don't you even try to use your accent as an excuse to keep your potty-mouth! If you don't break the habit now, he will pick up on it when he starts talking, himself." He brought up a hand to point at Eric's face with the scowl of an unhappy mother. "If you can't do it yourself I'll help you with use of a bar of soap!"
Eric visibly flinched and grimaced, reminded of having his mouth washed out with soap by his own mother. "Sorry Al. I'm still learning tae curb it. I'll try tae do better...I'll even tape mah mouth shut around Matt if it comes tae it."
His cheeks were pink with an uncommon blush as he tried to pacify his husband, and he glanced at Ronald with embarrassment. He nearly warned him not to start a family of his own with William because he could just imagine how much worse Spears would be about such things, but then the harsh reminder that Will was gone from their lives hit him like a fist in the gut and he clamped his mouth shut before stupidly blurting his thoughts.
"You had better." Alan said before softening his tone and smiled at their son. "Hey sweetie." He pressed a kiss to the baby's cheek.
Ronald was trying to hold in his laughter, but it was beginning to slip out, "Tough luck!" he burst out, "You look like a puppy that got caught chewing up the couch!"
"Oi, quiet you," Eric groused, unable to stop the flush in his cheeks. "I'd like tae see how yeh stand up tae Alan's wrath, kid. Ya haven't seen tha half of it!"
He was smiling though, and he cast a roughish wink at his spouse. "Maybe I can make it up tae ya later tonight, lover." He purred the last, giving Alan a suggestive but pointed leer.
"Only if you can keep your speech clean for the rest of the day!" Alan insisted. "I don't reward bad behavior."
Ronald shrugged with a chuckle, "Sorry, Slingby, every time I see you two together I see a lion bowing to a bunny." He turned to go, "Hey, I'll see ya later. I'm going to try and find something useful to do."
Eric nodded at Ronald and then he turned and sighed, giving his spouse a dry smirk. His attempt to charm Alan out of scolding him had failed—which meant the small brunet was onto his tricks. Usually all it took for him to fluster Alan was a wink and a subtle suggestion, but Humphries was onto his game.
"Ye've gotten tae know all my methods. Feels like I'm at a disadvantage now. How am I tae get outta trouble wi' ya now?"
"By not getting into trouble to begin with," Alan suggested. He leaned in to kiss Eric's cheek and whisper into his ear, "I have always known your little tricks, Eric, and they do still work. I can't resist you. But when our baby boy is involved I can't just let you have your way with me over a charming smile and a wink."
Eric shivered subtly at the brief contact and he shifted Matthew in his arms as the baby gurgled. He leaned in towards his lover and he chose to give as well as he got. He spoke in a low purr for Alan's ears alone. "Maybe ya could have yer way wi' me later on then, sweetheart. I'll let yeh bind me like a wild thing an' we'll see if yeh can tame me."
He followed up with a kiss to Alan's neck just under his ear, and he spared a moment to nibble the smaller man's lobe before pulling back.
It worked. Alan's face burned a bright red and his knees weakened as his breath caught in his throat.
"E-Eric..." he finally choked out.
Eric resisted the urge to chuckle at his husband's reaction, and he felt a little less like a scolded dog. He'd have put his arms around him if they weren't occupied holding the baby, but he had to settle for suggestive undertones.
"Like tha' idea, do ya? Yeh know yer tha only one tha' could tame this 'lion', don't ya? Dun' be too afraid tae play around wi' me, lover."
Matthew grabbed hold of a lock of Eric's hair while he was shamelessly flirting with Alan to see just how hard he could make him blush, and the Scot was reminded that he had a baby in his arms that needed feeding soon. He glanced down at the infant and he made a silly face at him.
"Aye, Da knows it's about time fer ano'er feeding, kiddo. We'll take care of tha' now, in fact."
He gave Alan another wink. "I'll get his lunch ready, Al. Think on wha' I said."
"You are ridiculous, Eric..." Alan muttered, unable to calm the red of his cheeks as he walked beside his husband and son. "I don't know how you always do this to me..."
"Seems I've go' a talent fer it," chuckled Eric. He bounced Matthew and shushed him as the infant began to fuss. "My tongue's good fer o'er things too, though." He couldn't resist smirking flirtatiously at the smaller reaper as they made their way to their office.
"That isn't helping." Alan whispered, imagining all too vividly the way Eric's tongue caressed his bare skin when they were alone in bed together. Following that memory was how Eric's hands felt running over his body, his breath against his neck, his lips pressing to his shoulder, and his sex filling him...
"Definitely not helping!" he gasped, turning his head away, feeling like he needed a nice cold shower.
Eric was getting into a rather uncomfortable state too. He shifted a little to try and ease the growing pressure in his pants, but he was unable to physically adjust himself due to the baby he was holding. "No' helping mahself much either," he muttered. Grinning sidelong at his spouse, he leaned over to give him a quick nibble on the ear. "Maybe ya could do something in tha' department once we reach the office, though. I'm starting tae ache fer ya, lover."
"You are always 'aching' for me." Alan pointed out, glancing around to make sure no one else could see him before he adjusted his pants around his tenting problem.
"Mm, a little lower," suggested Eric with a roguish smirk. "Ya know Al, I could wear ma kilt for ya if yeh want."
Eric offered the incentive because he'd discovered his partner had a weakness for the Scottish garment after finding his old one still in his office closet and trying it on. At least, Alan had a weakness for him in a kilt. The younger reaper had walked in with Matthew as Eric was checking to see if the kilt still fit right and for a moment he'd seemed like he might almost drop the baby. Eric had quickly taken Matthew from him and he's been about to ask if he was feeling all right, but then he'd noticed the blush on Alan's cheeks and the tent in the crotch of his pants. He hadn't used his discovery to his advantage yet, but he was feeling so randy he thought now might be a good time.
Alan finished adjusting himself, but didn't trust himself to look up at his husband. The man was too sexy for his own good-and he knew it. The poor brunet only wanted to jump his bones at that moment with the mere suggestion of the Scot donning his traditional garb of his homeland. It confirmed his suspicion that Eric had seen through him the day he'd first saw the man in a kilt.
Luckily, Matthew came to his mother's rescue by letting out a loud noise to remind his parents that he was in need of his bottle, his little hands waving and smacking against his father's chest lightly as he wiggled and protested the lack of his meal.
"Aye, little one...Daddy knows yeh want dinner. Guess this conversation can wait."
With a pointed smirk at Alan's crotch, Eric continued walking to their office. They'd taken one of the spare microwaves from one of the break rooms so that they could prepare and heat Matthew's bottles in the privacy of their office, and Eric was quick to hand the baby over to Alan once they were inside so he could do just that.
"Jus' a minute, kid," advised Eric—even though he knew his son wasn't old enough to comprehend his words yet. He opened the box of formula and he took a package out to mix it with some water from the sink in the bathroom. As he prepared the bottle he talked to Alan.
"I was thinkin' we could get some candles an' have a nice candlelight dinner t'night. Ya know...clear off mah desk and eat at it. Oh an' I've go' some good news: none of our stuff was sold off or anything by tha landlords while we were away. I checked wi' both places while you were at tha meeting an' they said they both jus' locked up our apartments when they heard wha' was going on, since we still had a rental contract active. Good thing I checked wi' yers too, 'cause he was about ready to presume ya were dead and clear out yers."
Eric came back out of the little office bathroom, shaking the bottle in his hand to mix the formula. He smiled at his spouse. "Isn't tha' great? Only thing is they both changed tha locks an' they won't let us back in 'till we can pay back-rent, but everything's still there. No' my car of course...I guess she's gone fer good. Still better than starting over wi' nothing at all, aye?"
"Gahh!" Matt spotted the bottle and tried reaching for it, though it hadn't been heated yet.
"Shh, just a moment more, little one," Alan cooed, kissing his temple, "It'll be nice being able to go home." Alan sighed. He looked up at Eric with a smile, "But we don't need two apartments and neither one is large enough for raising a family. We'll have to find a new place to call home-together."
The brunet smiled at the thought, imagining the two of them taking their son home for the first time. "Maybe we can get something with a proper garden where Matthew and his future siblings can play in the fresh air..."
"Tha countryside somewhere," agreed Eric. "Either here or in Scotland. Come tae think of it, I miss Scotland. If we dun' end up living there, I'd at least like tae visit fer a while after all this gets sorted out."
The bottle finished heating and he removed it from the microwave. Testing the temperature on his wrist first, he carried it over to Alan and he gave it to the baby. "There yeh are, son. Eat up. Yummy!"
As Matthew began to hungrily suck on the bottle, Eric's gaze met Alan's. He smiled at him. "So how 'bout my idea of a candlelit dinner? We cannae really cook a gourmet meal but we might be able tae get some takeout...if any place'll deliver tae this building now."
A romantic dinner might just set the mood, and Eric already planned to wear his traditional Scottish garb for Alan.
"A candlelit dinner would be lovely, but where would we find candles here in Dispatch?" the brunet looked up from watching their son drink. "I don't doubt we can order out. We have been accepting supply deliveries since we took back the building. It just has to go through screening to make sure nothing was slipped into it that could compromise security. I've worked in the screening room a few times since coming here and others have had food delivered without a problem."
"Hmm." Eric thought about it. "I could go an' buy some candles. There's a shop right around tha corner and it'd only take me a few minutes tae get there on foot. Haven't seen any enemy activity in this area fer a good while, so it ought tae be safe enough."
Alan bit his lower lip, "I'd like you to not go alone," he admitted, "just in case. You are one of the more well known members of our group, after all."
"Wha' if Sutcliff goes wi' me?" suggested Eric. "He likes candles an' girly things. Ah wait...I might no' ever get him outta there. He's a notorious shopper. Maybe Ron, then? Och...no. Telling him I'm buying candles fer a romantic dinner would be like rubbing it in his face. I'll jus' pick out one o' tha other reapers on mah team, then. Would tha' make ya feel better?"
"As long as you aren't alone." Alan nodded, "If you want, I can go with you and we can have Grell or someone watch Matt." he suggested.
"Tha's no' a bad idea," agreed Eric. "Ya might enjoy getting out fer a little while too, an' yeh can help me pick tha candles. I'm sure Grell an' Undertaker won't mind watching Matt fer a little while." Eric looked down at the baby, who was half-finished with his bottle. "Would ya like that, lad? Spend a little time wi' yer uncles?"
Matthew's eyes moved over to look at Eric and then he smiled around the nipple in his mouth, stretching his entire body.
"I think we can take that as a yes." Alan chuckled.
Eric bent over to kiss the child on the head and then he gave his spouse a kiss on the lips. "Then I'll set up his diaper an' formula bag an' we can take him down tha hall tae Grell's office an' see if they'll mind."
He was all too eager to pick up the items and enjoy a relaxing, intimate evening with Alan. Of course they couldn't ask them to watch Matthew all night, but he really was a good kid and they didn't often have to interrupt their moments together to see to him once he went down for the night.
The brunet hummed and smiled, "You do that," he approved. Matthew would be finished eating soon, and after burping him, they'd be free to go out on their quick errand.
An hour or so later, the couple was enjoying Greek takeout on Eric's desk with votive candles lit on either side of it and a glass of white wine each. Eric spooned up some of the moussaka from one of the containers and he transferred it to his plate before getting some ziti. He smiled at his spouse as he picked up his lamb gyro and taking a bite of it.
"Mm," he mumbled as he chewed and swallowed. "Reminds me o' our time in Athens. I'd like tae go back there some day an stay there fer a week or so. Ne'er thought I'd like Greek food so much."
He had the baby's bassinet stationed close to the desk and he rocked it with his foot now and then to help coax their son to sleep.
"We will have to take a proper honeymoon when we get the chance," Alan agreed once he swallowed his bite and politely dabbed a dribble of sauce from his lip with his napkin. "We could go back then."
Eric raised his wine glass to that. "I'm all fer tha'. Maybe we could even stay at tha place we were living before we had tae move out. I liked tha ocean view. Let's mark it down on tha 'tae do' list soon as we pay up our rent an' all this mess is settled, lover."
He smiled at Alan as they clinked their glasses together and he rubbed his foot playfully against Alan's beneath the desk. He was wearing his Highland outfit as promised—and he didn't have a thing on under the kilt. He was wearing lace-up boots on his feet and calves but aside from that there was only the kilt and his long-sleeved lace-up shirt. Perhaps it was strange for him to be dressed like this while eating Greek food, but he knew his spouse loved the look on him.
Alan was sitting next to him in one of his work suits. He didn't have the options Eric had as most of the clothes he'd gotten while they were in hiding were maternity and now no longer fit him. He'd forgone the jacket and stuck simply to a dress shirt and vest with his slacks. He'd also chosen a normal black tie rather than his usual bolo he was quite fond of.
"We have quite the to-do list to take care of once this little dispatch war is over." he chuckled, "At the very least I need to get a new career going for myself before we take our honeymoon."
Eric sobered at that and he looked at him as he forked up some of the ziti. "Are ya really serious about quitting Dispatch? I understand why an' all, but I dun' want yeh tae end up unhappy."
"I just can't trust myself, Eric." Alan sighed, "I love being a Dispatch Officer, but...the job is too hazardous for me. I got addicted to something that gave me a deadly illness that until recently was incurable-and even now the cure is a huge risk. I can't be tempted by it any longer, not when I have you and Matthew. I have thought about this a lot and being here for my family is more important than working Dispatch."
Eric nodded, again understanding but saddened by the loss. "I'm going tae miss having yeh at mah side. Ya were honestly tha best partner I've ever had, Alan. In work an' in love. At least I get tae keep ya in love, though."
"I'm sorry. I wish I could stay your work partner, as well, but... It's just better this way." Alan reached over and placed his hand on Eric's knee, "And you always have me waiting for you at home."
"Aye, that I will." Eric forked up some of the moussaka and he blew on it to cool it. He laid his free hand over the one Alan had placed on his knee. "Have ya thought about asking fer a position in bookkeeping or somethin'? Yer good at paperwork an' filing an' ya wouldnae have tae handle cinematic records. Ya'd still be working in tha same building or close by, so it'd be something familiar to ya." He put the fork-full of food into his mouth and chewed appreciatively as he waited for his husband's answer.
"Actually," Alan's cheeks flushed a tint of pink, "I was thinking of doing something altogether different. Say... become a nurse. It'd mean going back to school, but...Nursing had always been something I was interested in. Working Dispatch was my dream, as it is every young reaper's dream, but I had always thought that if I couldn't make it into the collections program at the academy, that I'd try for the medical field."
He met Eric's gaze, "You wouldn't mind that, would you? Having your husband go back to the academy?"
He already had some experience with tending to wounds, cleaning them and stitching them. He doubted he'd have a problem with doing it every day.
"Besides, then if you get a bit careless you'll know who to come to get patched up." he offered a smile.
Eric smiled back at him and he took a sip of wine to wash down his food before answering. "Alan, I'm gonna support ya no matter wha' ya decide ya want tae do." He squeezed his hand gently and he gazed into his eyes. If ya find nursing's yer new passion, then tha's fine by me. I think ya'd be good at it. Ye've a verra gentle touch."
Eric caught up Alan's hand and he lifted it to his lips, kissing the top of it. "All I want is for yeh tae be happy an' content, sweetheart."
"I had hoped you'd feel that way about this." The brunet smiled, flexing his fingers as Eric kissed his hand so that he could feel the man's beard. "I know it'll be hard having to find and get used to a new partner, but I know we can do this. Plus, if you want to return to your homeland...it'd be easier for us to move there. You can get a transfer back easy. If I were still your partner we'd likely end up apart for a while until my transfer is approved. I could better get my new start as a nurse both here in England or there in Scotland easily."
Eric nodded and released Alan's hand so that he could pick up his gyro again for another bite. It occurred to him that he might have ordered a bit too much for just the two of them, but they could always place the leftovers in the break room fridge for later or to share with others. He tried his best not to make a mess and he grinned at Alan when he saw the smaller reaper accidentally slop on his pant leg after taking a bite of the same. He also had a small glob of tzatziki on his lower lip, which Eric decided to kiss off for him after swallowing his own bite.
"Mm, tasty," he murmured. He reached for a napkin and he dabbed up the bit on Alan's thigh with it. "Ya go' a little there, too."
Alan felt almost mortified at the mess he'd made of himself and he quickly dipped a napkin in a glass of water to further clean the mess on his pants before it stained.
"Shush-this didn't happen!" he tried.
Eric started to laugh in spite of himself. "People slop, lover. Ah, yer blushing! Dun' be embarrassed..."
He tried very hard not to snicker as he tried to help Alan clean up the mess. "Yer so cute, Al. It willnae stain...jus' calm down."
"If baby spit-up can stain a suit, then so can this!" Alan insisted, "And I don't 'slop'. I'm a gentleman."
Eric resisted another laugh, not wanting to spoil things by making Alan feel picked on. He was after all a very clean person and he'd always taken care with his appearance. Rather than display his amusement over his husband's distress, he offered advice. "Ya could always take 'em off an' soak 'em if yer tha' worried. I wouldnae be offended by 'pantless Alan', ya know."
Eric winked playfully at him.
"A gentleman never attends dinner without his slacks." Alan said simply, though he got up and went to a better lit area of the office to check the spot on his pant leg. "...Well, unless they are from Scotland and they prefer supporting their traditional kilt over slacks..." he added with a flush to his cheeks.
Finding he'd cleaned the dribble as best he could without taking them off and sending them to the cleaners, the brunet returned to his seat, this time laying his napkin in his lap as a lady would to protect her skirts.
Eric was struggling not to laugh again. Gods, he loved this reaper. He chose to stuff his face to avoid snickering and he watched Alan sidelong, admiring the way the candlelight flickered on his attractive, almost delicate features. He rocked Matthew's bassinet again with his foot and he glanced down to be sure the baby was sound asleep.
"Mm, I jus' go' a glob of tha tzatziki in tha' bite," he announced after chewing and swallowing his last bite of his gyro. "Good stuff."
"And you didn't dribble it." Alan observed as he returned to what was left of his meal, soon letting out a happy sigh and glancing back up at Eric, "However, slacks are optional for possible activities after dinner."
Eric nearly choked on his food in response to that softly uttered statement. It really didn't take much for Alan to distract him and his body immediately started to react. He finished off his gyro and he had another sip of wine. "Then here's tae ending the night wi'out pants, then."
The brunet let slip a smug smile, inwardly laughing at his husband's eager and favorable reaction. He soon covered the expression, however, by taking a sip of his own glass of wine.
Really, it was Eric's fault for getting him in the mood. The kilt was too much to pass up, and he was curious how his Scotsman would perform in it.
-To be continued
