Disclaimer: I don't own V for Vendetta or any of its characters. Wishful thinking aside. See original chapter for a complete set of disclaimers and other story related information.
Warnings: See original chapter for a complete set of warnings. I plan to wrap up this story in the three or four more chapters. Thus, beginning in this chapter, there will be a notable shift in content. This chapter marks that beginning of the more slash related content. So, if you have somehow managed to make it this far without realizing this is a slash story and such content offends you, you might wanna zip off now, or risk being converted by the hawtness! Hee!
Authors Note #1: Please read and review. I am excited to see what you all think. I am open to comments, advice, and constructive criticism. This is my first V for Vendetta story and I am still looking for constructive feedback.
Words will Always Retain their Power
Chapter 5 – "Vos fortuna est quis vos planto"
He had only been asleep for maybe six, utterly blissful hours when he was awakened by a flurry of pounding at his front door. Rousting him from a dead sleep as the sound quickly morphed into a growingly impatient, base sounding rhythm that echoed through the entire house. The sound shattering the still calm that had descended when he had finally dragged his sorry arse to bed, fast asleep before he even had the chance to do so much as pull down the covers properly.
Slipping into awareness more smoothly then a normal person slips into their shoes, he bounded from between the bed covers, his bare feet curling against the chilled carpet the same moment his hand found his side arm, plucking it from his side table in one smooth, uninterrupted motion. He was halfway to the door by the time it slid home, nestling firmly in his palm, frigid and glinting in the near light before the fifth knock had even begun to echo throughout the darkened hall.
He kept the lights off, taking the stairs two at a time until he reached the door, overly conscious of the fact that given the events of the past twenty four hours, literally any situation could be awaiting him, and not all of them particularly pleasant either. It was only when he looked through the spy hole, squinting out into the foggy morning that he was shocked to discover the form of his subordinate standing nervous and edgy on his front porch, looking behind him repeatedly, as though suspicious he was being followed.
For the second time that night, fear, anger and adrenaline roared through him like fire trapped deep in his veins. Was someone tailing him? Was someone after him? Christ! With all that had happened he hadn't even considered that Dominic might be a target. Having assumed that any backlash that could have conceivably come their way, whether from the government or some angry citizen would have been directed at himself. Damnit! He should have known better!
Cursing under his breath, he yarded the door open, gun up, shoulders squared and prepared to bring hell fire and the devils fury down upon whoever was tailing his man.
But the moment he opened the door the man all but burst though, practically vibrating with nervous energy, his mouth opening and then promptly closing again, as though he had planned on saying something, but had suddenly changed his mind.
What the hell? There was no panic.. No desperation.. Nor even the slightest indication of suspicion from the man now firmly planted just inside his front door.. Dominic didn't even have his gun out for Christ sakes! What the bloody hell is going on?
Flowing out in the man's wake, gun still raised he looked up and down the street, straining for the slightest sound that would reveal what was going on. But there was nothing. Not even a single untoward sound to be heard. And there was certainly nothing, or at least no one following him. Indeed, the street looked suspiciously empty and rather silent in spite of the man's earlier behaviour, making him feel remarkably foolish and increasingly irate as he realized he was standing out on his own front steps in naught by his skivvies, likely giving his neighbours one hell of a show.
Stamping down his confused irritation, he grunted in annoyance as he stepped back inside, flicking the safety down on his gun as he set his expression into a mixture of confusion, circumspection, and what he sincerely hoped was a look authoritarian enough to set the young detective's head back on straight.
He blew out a long, steadying breath as he took in the man before him. Who under his steady gaze and close scrutiny had uncharacteristically retreated until he was level with the door jam. The younger man looked..well…he looked a mess.
The man looked uncommonly debauched, with his normally immaculate hair always parted severely yet rakishly to the side, now set free of its confining part. Ruffled all to hell, and sending the odd lock of auburn brown trailing down to frame his cheeks, hanging there for a few long moments before it was inevitably swatted away in growing irritation. A condition that somehow made the man look about a decade younger then he actually was.
Even his clothing, yet another aspect of the man's persona that was generally as precise and as immaculate as his hair style, was now noticeably rumpled and scuffed, creased with wrinkles and smeared with dust and dirt. And he couldn't help but notice as the man stood, practically fidgeting in front of him, hands roving from his hips to his trouser pockets, how the man's tie was inexplicably missing, with one side of his collar having somehow popped up completely, while the other side seemed strangely flattened.
But it wasn't just his persona that spoke volumes to the man's state of mind; it was evident across his very skin, with the sides of his eyes slightly creased, as if they had been pressed up against a hard surface, and with the odd pressure line rimming the outline of his chin and cheeks. Even his face looked uncommonly flushed despite the agreeable weather.
…He might have felt like he had gotten hit by a lorry earlier, but by the look of it, Dominic might have actually had…
"Dominic..?" He finally greeted. The word coming out of his mouth more like a mish-mash of a greeting and a question all tied together rather then the man's name. The name itself seeming heavy and laden down with the weight his unvoiced questions as it slipped from his lips.
"Inspector, I have to..." The younger man began in a rush, uncharacteristically not even pausing to greet him before he trailed off altogether, words coming to an abrupt halt as his eyes seared down the length of him.
Momentarily confused at what would have caused the man to be so strapped for words, he followed the man's gaze downward. …Ah…
The corners of his lips twitched slightly as he fought down a small grin. His free hand coming up to run through his shaggy mess of hair in a rather useless gesture, something that coincidentally didn't work on the best of days and would certainly do him no good now, especially after having spent half the night mashed severely into his pillows.
..Poor Dominic. He must look quite the sight, gun in hand, black hair sleep tousled and unruly, clad in only a pair of navy blue boxer shorts and his worn grey academy t-shirt…It was like something out of bad day time television..
However, as quickly as amusement struck, discomfort descended as well when he realized that despite being in the comfort of his own home, and having always been relatively confident in his own skin, he felt remarkably exposed under Dominic's wide eyed stare. Realizing that this was the first time the man had probably ever seen him out of work attire, or even so much as one of his long sleeved dress shirts. It was a feeling that he certainly didn't relish, but it threw him off guard all the more when his first thoughts on how to deal with the matter notably did not revolve around him not so subtly reminding his subordinate that it was four in the bleedin' morning, and it had been him that had been pounding on his door like a bloody snow ball trying to escape from the fires of hell.
Instead his thoughts mostly seemed to revolve around the sudden realization that he hadn't shaved in over forty eight hours, and that his old t-shirt was just a mite too tight, worn thin with sentimental favouritism, showing off the outline of his chest starkly, leaving little guess to any imperfections that his body might hold.
He wasn't used to the emotions of self doubt and discomfort, at least not in regards to something as mundane as his own appearance and body image. In fact he was generally as pleased with his own appearance as he could be. Though he was not vain by any stretch of the imagination, even he could accept that despite his years he had certainly aged well. He exercised regularly, taking pride in himself and his ability to keep up with men on the force half his age. He dressed as his station expected, no more and no less, but was rarely without one of his signature suits and overcoats. Indeed he had even once been told that his dark black hair, now lightened here and there by the odd piece of silver, made him look distinguished rather then aged.
But now, with Dominic just standing there taking him in, he suddenly felt the full weight of his years. Indeed he felt remarkably…rumpled and care worn in comparison.
..Damn Dominic and his infernal timing anyway!
And worse, now that the man was here his thoughts seemed to run wild, restless and worrisomely feral. He found that he almost couldn't help it as his mind cycled back, allowing him a reprieve as his continued to sort through his jumbled thoughts. And as his mind raced, he couldn't help but dwell upon the day that Dominic Stone had made his poignant yet rather unremarkable appearance in his life.
Despite how those daft day time soaps and paper pack romances like to tell it, his feelings towards Dominic had been fashioned through a liberal dosing of real life rather then fairy tale. It was not love at first sight, or even lust. In fact he had disliked the slick haired, well groomed man from the moment his cocky, designer clad arse had taken up residence in the desk across from his and had vehemently refused to be intimidated into leaving.
Dodgy little git.
Because the truth was that Dominic Stone had been a festering tack on his ass from day one. Period.
To start, he hadn't been looking for a partner in the first place. And the last thing he needed was a lunk head straight out of the academy that had an itchy trigger finger, and was raring to get his prick wet. And he certainly didn't need some rich mans son playing hero.
But at the end of the day, the point was that he worked alone for a reason. Because in his case the old adage held true, he didn't play well with others and he knew it. He had always been a bit too introverted and solitary to form any lasting, mutually beneficial partnerships in the past. Yet despite this, over the years, by merit of his dedication and impressive case ratio, he had risen to such a position that he had generally earned the privilege to work as he choose to… alone.
Or so he had thought until that day, six years ago now, when that young, clean cut yahoo had had the balls to look him straight in the eye from his seat at the desk across the room, coat already assumingly hung up on his coat rack, greeting him with a cheery: "Good morning Inspector."
Indeed, now that he thought about it, not much had changed since then if you took into account that sole, morning routine. The man always greeted him the same way, often even with that same, cocked up little grin, as the tired, liquidly perk of the coffee maker bubbled in the background.
He had never been able to get a straight answer out of his superiors as to why he had been saddled with the slick haired rookie. Even Human Resources had remained inexplicably mum on the subject, which was certainly saying something as they were undoubtedly the biggest gossips in the department. Because despite his constant queries, they had only nudged him in the direction of the mans exemplary file, saying only when pressed that the order had come from 'higher up' and that was all they had to say on the matter.
At the time it had been maddening, because righteous irritation and indignation aside, the thought had of course crossed his mind that this was simply another form of government surveillance. Indeed, it wouldn't be the first time Creedy or one of Sutler's underlings had swung his ass over the fire in an effort to sway his decision regarding a case or an opinion on the High Council. He wasn't above the occasional bout of paranoia after all. Especially not these days..
His irritation on the matter had stuck for some time, despite the fact that those thoughts were eventually proved false, with Dominic Stone turning out be no more then he appeared to be. The currently estranged son of a wealthy, up and coming aristocrat who was too busy holding a grudge over the fact that his youngest son had chosen to graduate out of the University of Westminster and go directly to the Police Academy over the political aspirations his father had planned for him, to notice the budding potential his son actually showed for the job.
And after a while, when it appeared that his best efforts at being effacing and downright disagreeable had failed, and the repressible man didn't appear to be going anywhere any time soon, he had eventually resigned himself to playing nursemaid for the foreseeable future. The man was a stubborn little git, he'd give him that.
…Only the thing was that he eventually he got used to him…
Somewhere along the line, dislike had turned into toleration, and then sometime later to hedging sort of forbearance. Until that too was overtaken by a grudging form of acceptance. It hadn't been long after that when rather predictably, that same acceptance had spiralled down into familiarity, camaraderie and eventually even friendship.
Because in spite of his best efforts, they meshed together in a way no partnership ever had. In the beginning, it had started off with the little things. Like the way the man always seemed to beat him to work in the mornings, even when he was hours early himself. When he would arrive in the morning to find their current case already prepped and laid out, coffee perking in the background, with two mugs placed beside the machine in weary anticipation. And eventually, he began to appreciate that fact. Hell, he even grew to look forward to the way that Dominic would always stop what he was working on to bid him good morning, emerging out of a case file in favour of engaging him in discussion over some topic of current interest, whether it was case related or not, ever interested in his thoughts and opinions on such matters before sharing his own.
He valued the fact that from the very beginning, Dominic had always had the balls to meet his eyes when he spoke to him, not at all intimidated by either his position or his manner. Telling him straight up what he thought about a case without any semantically formed governmental bullshit. It also didn't hurt that the man was his equal in intellect, more often complimenting each others thought processes then hindering them. Indeed even from the get-go it seemed all too easy to bounce ideas off the man, dissecting a case so freely and so effortlessly that it seemed all but provincial.
The man grew on him. Like a fungus. It was utterly daft.
He even grew to appreciate the fact that they could argue to the point of raised voices, subsiding into simmering glares over top the flimsy barricades of their computer screens, thinking all manner of unsavoury thoughts about the other when the occupants of the neighbouring offices started pounding on the walls in retaliation.
Because he knew with absolute certainty, that within a mere few hours he would find Dominic plunking down an extra large cup of that exquisite, if not entirely overly priced coffee that he was far to frugal to buy from himself, affixing him with a pointed look before popping the lid on his own and pointedly starting a conversation that had absolutely nothing to do with what they had been previously quarrelling over. Or depending on the circumstances, he would find himself coaxing the man out after shift, springing for dinner at the old pub down by the docks that they both liked. A peace offering shared with the clink of beer steins and the scrape of utensils against plates until one of them invariably broke the silence, knowing full well that all was eventually forgiven between them.
It was bloody weird. But it was them.
And perhaps it was the fact that Dominic had quickly gained his respect as well. Something that even in the most favourable of circumstances was remarkably difficult to attain. There was a good reason why he kept largely to himself after all.
Looking back on it, it was hard to tell when that shift had occurred. As there had never been any one signature moment where in which he had realized that he had not only come to like the man, but respect him as well. But he figured that at the end of the day, at least he knew part of the reason why.
Up until Dominic he had figured he was simply the last of a dying breed, especially given the level of fear, and shoddy training that the National Policing Improvement Agency imparted on the new recruits in the decades after Norsefire came into power. A system of training where in which the importance of things such as the judicial truth, and the desire to solve crime for the good of humankind had been systematically acclimated to a specific set of government protocols and an increasingly obvious Party agenda. Indeed, such practices had only grown in application until it felt more like agencies such as the Metropolitan Police Service and the Homicide and Serious Crime Agency existed more for the benefit of the Party then their nation's people.
And if that wasn't the definition of corruption, he didn't know what was…
Indeed, dislike of the man aside, he was quick to realize that much like himself, the younger man seemed to genuinely care about justice. About actively seeking out the truth and championing the continuing need for moral law and civility, especially in these growingly problematic times.
It was an awareness, a drive, hell, even a desire that went beyond anything he had seen in the others, even in his own colleagues. Because unlike the other depressingly multiplying carbon copies that seemed to have over run the policing arena of late, Dominic had struck him as being remarkably real and strikingly honest. A rare spark admist a growing horde of brainwashed brats that wouldn't recognize an act of compassion or common decency even if it stripped naked and danced the Electric Jive right under their noses.
And this realization, as slow and as gradual as it had been, had been refreshing enough for him to pause, and actually stop to consider Detective Dominic Stone. And like a moth to the flame, he had willingly, if not somewhat uncomprehendingly thrown himself into the blaze.
Ironically, it had all been dominos from there on in…
Because eventually somewhere along the line, that companionably familiarity and budding respect had turned into something more, at least for him.
It had been the kind of feeling that had mouldered under the surface of his conscious thought much like the slow, gradual burn of a peat fire. Simmering out of sight and out of mind until the day it bursts alight from the dampened coals and all but bowls you over with its intensity and raw truth. With the emotions both frightening and titillating him as he realised just how utterly and completely buggered he actually was.
And after that, as much as he repressed and berated himself for such useless and utterly impossible thoughts, in the end it didn't matter, the damage had already been done.
Because the truth was, he possibly and quite probably, loved the man. His partner, his subordinate, and a man probably a decade or more his junior, all in an age when such love was not only unheard of but actively reviled and condemned. Even now it was as difficult for him to admit to himself as it still was to even think about. With far too many years of repression, self preservation, and his own cocked up hang ups having taken their toll.
Figures. He never could do anything the easy way.
To this day he still has no idea how long such feelings had remained dormant. Who knew how many months, or even years had gone by where he had managed to delude himself? But if he knew one thing, it was that he did know the moment that he realized it.
Even without his life altering realization, it would have been a hard day to ever forget. It had been one of those nightmare cases. The kind that hits you like a roundhouse kick to the gut when you arrive on scene to find a broken window latch and an empty bed. The mounds of dolls and stuffed animals that you just knew had all been specifically arranged by the little tot the night before, were now strewn in every imaginable direction, spilling off the bed, tangled together with the overturned bed sheets and linens until they layered the floor in a colourful jumble of smiling faces and empty, upraised arms.
It was the kind of case where you had to force yourself to appear calm and unaffected as you questioned sobbing mothers and pale faced fathers, clutching tightly to bits of clothing. Their hands close around impossibly tiny dresses and little pink socks as you gently pry them out of their trembling hands, handing them over to Dominic to give to the scent dogs. Even though all the while you feel remarkably as though you might need to streak outside and retch at any moment.
All because he knew. He knew the odds, the percentages, and the outcomes of cases such as these. He knew how they so often ended. He wished he didn't, but he did.
Only this time they were all ridiculously lucky, and the nightmare had a happy ending. And only nineteen hours later he was able to personally deliver the young, but remarkably resilient little tot back into the ecstatically gratefully arms of her parents.
And despite the fact that they had just pulled the equivalent to almost three full shifts in a row, nothing could quite compare to the way the good natured little babe had cooed happily in his ear. Her chubby little fingers digging curiously into his thick, tousled black hair as he had scooped her up from where they had found her, abandoned in the deep woods close to forty miles outside the city as her abductor took off alone in a last ditch effort to escape. He had bundled her up in his overcoat as Dominic had looked on, pressed tight against his side, exhausted relief stamped clear across his tired face as the rest of the team blew past them, his eyes closing in unabashed gratitude as the girl burbled out a happy little laugh, clearly amused by something that was entirely beyond them both as she pressed her face, runny nose and all, right into the crook of his neck.
He wouldn't have had it any other way.
And as he had left the family to their joyful reunion, watching with no small sense of rebellious satisfaction as Dominic had manhandled the deranged suspect into a squad car. He was reminded that at the end of the day, regardless of the party and the bloody government, this was exactly the kind of case that made his job worthwhile.
Not long afterwards he made a quick judgement call and timed them both out, ordering the man off duty for the next twenty four hours as he bid him goodnight. Not even making it as far as his own arm chair before he fell asleep still fully dressed, slumped half over the arm rest.
He found Dominic back in the office, only six criminally short hours later, swaying exhaustedly over the coffee maker when he himself had failed to heed his own advice.
The man looked like beaten shit, so he was sure that he looked about five times worse…
A number of things set off his alarm bells straight off. Because the man rarely even took off his suit jacket at work, and yet here he was, dressed in only his dress shirt and gun braces, tie loose around his collar, and his suit jacket rumpled and abandoned carelessly over the shoulder of his desk chair.
He was still wearing the same dress shirt he had had on earlier, cut under his coal black suit when they had parted ways only a few hours before. The one that still had the faded brown coffee stain on the right cuff from the time the mail delivery cart had upset the mans cup as they had talked with the Superintendent in the main lobby. Only now, to add to it's rather forlorn appearance, the mans collar was now popped up in an odd way that made him half wonder if the man hadn't fallen asleep on his living room couch for a period before simply getting up and plodding right out the door for work again.
These outward observations were indications in themselves that the man was doing poorly. Dominic was fastidious and down right obsessive with anything from his workspace to his person. As like him the man thrived under a certain modicum of control and self imposed order.
"For god sakes Dominic. Didn't I tell you to go home?" He exclaimed quietly, far too tired to get more worked up about it then he already was. His movements stilted and slow as he made his way across the room.
"Yeah..But you're here Inspector, aren't you?" The man replied with a small smile, wiping a tired hand along the span of his blood shot eyes as the coffee maker hissed indignantly in the background.
It was with that innocent, unassuming little phrase that the man almost killed him.
Because what the man was really saying, was he wasn't here for the case, or the god damned job. He had come back for him. Because Dominic knew he would be back and didn't want him to be alone. He had swallowed hard, trying to free his throat of the sudden lump that had taken up residence there.
Something sparked down the length of him as he had crossed the room, collecting Dominic's coat off the chair as he went, brushing shoulders with the man as he herded him right out the office door. Unapologetically manhandling the man out and into the car, entirely ignoring the man's exhausted, sleepy protests the entire length of the twenty minute drive.
He had made a point to walk the man all the way up the seven flights of stairs that made up the man's high rise building, and right up to his flat's door. Wordlessly badgering the man into compliance as he waited around, watching as the younger man fished out the keys and jammed them sullenly into the lock.
But even as the door had swung open and the homey smell of Dominic's apartment wafted out to greet him, as tired they both were, the man had stood there for a long moment, brow deliciously furrowed, looking from him to his open door in a way that immediately set his teeth on edge.
Because while the man still looked tired, confused, and a million other minuet little emotions, he had suddenly taken on the look of a man who had just stumbled upon a very important, life altering realization.
That was the moment where it had really sunk in. Where everything he had felt in the office only a half an hour earlier finally crashed down on him. And call him a coward, but he had said his goodbyes and fled. Leaving Dominic standing there in the middle of the hallway, looking for the world of him like he wanted to say something more..
He sat in his car for a full thirty minutes afterwards, parked in front of the high-rise, his knuckles white around the steering wheel until he had collected himself enough so that he could safety drive home. His hands had ached for days afterwards..
It took him an hour of mucking about at home, mind electric with his own sudden realization before he faced the fact that sleep would be a long time coming. The overnight secretary hadn't even batted an eye when his time card had slid through, flashing a disgusting 3:35 am across the department's terminal, far too used to his habits by that point to question him.
He closed the file in two hours flat and left as quietly as he came in, dialling the Human Resources desk even as he slid into the car, calling in sick for the first time in over six years for his shift that started in only a few hours.
Dominic had called him seven times before noon the next day; practically beside himself by the time he had woken up and regained the presence of mind to ring the man back before he broke down and called the god damned Search and Rescue.
..The entire thing had made absolutely no sense. But then again, he figured that love, and even attraction rarely did anyway..
He cleared his throat softly, eventually rousted from his own concerns when the man in front of him shifted, his long but sturdy fingers curling around the door knob, seemingly for no other reason then to keep his flighty limbs occupied.
"You had something to tell me Dominic?" He eventually prompted when it became clear that the pointed silence growing between them was gaining them little ground.
"Yes…Yes. I do." The man affirmed, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself then anyone else as he shifted again, boot soles squeaking loudly against the glossy laminate floors.
"Just let me throw something on then." He finally returned when he realized that the man wasn't going to continue right away. Turning towards the stairs and thinking fond thoughts about a pair of trousers and a more company appropriate shirt. Hoping that by being fully dressed he could regain some of his equilibrium and at least feel as though they were both on equal footing again.
"No!..I mean..Don't trouble yourself sir..I- I probably wont be here very long anyway." Dominic replied rather fatalistically, embarrassment sending a light flush arrowing across the span of his cheeks as he ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair. The man seemingly unable to meet his eyes as he stared gob smacked at his young partner's outburst.
Strange...He had never seen the man so flummoxed, so out of sorts..
It was around that point that he realized that the man was still hovering in the door jam, not quite inside the house, but definitely not outside it either, as if the man were uncertain of his welcome.
"For god sakes Dominic, get in." He nearly growled, head cocked and suddenly alert to the not so subtle sounds of his aging neighbour in the town house across the street stirring. Her living room light switching on as the old snob of a bird, obviously far too interested in things that were certainty none of her bloody business, decided it was high time to investigate the source of all the early morning ruckus. He shut the door swiftly, effectively cutting off her view as the younger man all but jumped inside, nervous and practically twitching like a cadet fresh out of academy boot camp.
Outwardly he only raised an eyebrow, but inside his mind worked frantically, with worry beginning to outstrip any residual amusement and confusion that had previously lay in its stead. He forgot all about the fact that he was half naked, and that the floor was a mite too cold to be walking around in naught but his skivvies. Instead a thousand different explanations flashed through his mind. Had something happened? Was the man leaving London? Leaving the department? Did he want a transfer? A new partner?
"Dominic.." He didn't even know what he could say, what he should say. When it came to personal things, even if it was just between friends..he wasn't just out of practise, he was so bloody useless it was practically pathetic. He had no idea how to approach this correctly. Though, on that note he figured that he might be in good company because judging by the man's mounting discomfort, apparently neither did Dominic.
"Oh right, sorry Inspector." The man murmured, apparently under the impression that he was been lightly reprimanded for his outburst. Well this was certainly going well..
"Eric." He replied suddenly; surprising himself as his gut clenched with a strange sense of nervous excitement as he spoke. He felt as though he were giving away something infinitely precious with the utterance of that single word. His given name. And in a sense, he supposed that he was. This, at the very least, was something of himself that he could freely give to the man. Something safe.
"Sir?" Dominic returned confusion evident in his tone as he finally met his eyes for what seemed like the first time since he had all but blown through his front door.
"Under the circumstances.." He said, looking down at himself and around the apartment before going so far as to gesture out the window, where the lights of Parliament no longer glowed. "I think you can drop the formalities.." He finished with a pointed look.
And apparently he managed to say something right after all. Because the man flashed him one of those blinding, million candle watt smiles. The kind that went all the way up to his eyes, and was so utterly genuine and unguarded that not for the first time since Dominic had sashayed his way into his life, he felt his heart plummet into his gut.
Still, he figured that that daft feeling was neither here nor there because in the end it certainly didn't explain why the man was here, standing a few feet from the entrance to his own bloody living room in the same rumpled clothes he had been wearing when he had dropped him off at the Underground god only knows how many hours earlier.
Confusion battled exhaustion for dominance, the sensation crawling up the length of his tired limbs, and following the curve of his spine upwards until the feeling seemed to leech all the way up into his muddled brain. Seemingly overloaded to a point were even he was having issues processing.
Dominic obviously had something important to say; something that was clearly weighing as heavily on his mind as the events of the past twenty-four hours were on his own. The only difference that existed between them was the fact that he was getting the growing impression that Dominic's thoughts were ones that he probably didn't want to hear.
Cocking his head to ease the nervous tension building in the muscles of his neck, he raised a hand to rub across his tired, sleep encrusted eyes. But a quick arrow of splintering pain nipped that movement in the bud, and he hissed lightly as his injured fist throbbed reproachfully at the coarse action.
Shite. He had almost forgotten.
He looked down, turning his hand so that it better caught the light. It was a right mess alright. His abrupt movement had torn open the slowly scabbing cuts, causing the delicate skin to crack and break, letting loose a tangible copperish tang into the close air. Even now the blood was already flowing over the ragged edges, trickling past the mangled skin to stream in sluggish, but growing rivulets between his knuckles and along the length of his bruised fingers. He had really done a number on himself, it had to be said.
It had been a fool thing to do. But still, he couldn't bring himself to regret it..
He was about to encourage the man to continue when Dominic caught sight of it, and before he could even react, the man made a small noise in the back of his throat and all but pounced. Indeed if he had been any less knackered, he might have marvelled on the fact that in that instant, all the awkwardness that had existed between them inexplicably vanished.
The younger man winced in sympathy as he took his bruised hand in his own. His long, pale fingers winding carefully around the edges of the wound in a way that made him all but freeze in place. He couldn't remember the last time someone had touched him like that, with intent.
He let loose the breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding as the man inspected the wound closely. Watching as Dominic's practiced hazel eyes lingered, looking from him to wall across from them with barely muted concern. His keen eyes taking in the ragged hole and the glinting shards of his scotch glass as they reflected in the low light. Standing out like an entirely different sort of wound, raw, blatant, and damning.
But when he offered up nothing in response, the man's unspoken question of why was quickly shuttered behind a long perfected mask of professionalism and genuine concern. With Dominic's eyes returning to his hand, pointedly not looking at the broken plaster and bits of springy pink insulation that were threatening to spill out from the edges.
Dominic always had been good at prioritizing.
"It's fine." He said automatically, his own body betraying him as he clenched his hand at the unfamiliar sensation of the man's touch, the sudden tautness serving to only worsen the steadily building throb.
"Bollocks it is." The man responded, his expressive lips twisting around the unfamiliar words, shocking him into a brooding silence with the rare curse. As unlike himself, Dominic rarely swore or cussed, often regardless of the situation. He supposed it was likely due to the younger man's Ivy League boarding school education. Where the desired everyday mannerisms of the offspring of the rich and powerful were moulded, and in cases such as Dominic's, as deeply entrenched as the bruises you gained on your rear end if you questioned their purpose or validity. Indeed it was indication in of itself that despite having spent more then a decade of his childhood in such schools, it was remarkably rare that Dominic had anything positive to say of them.
So perhaps that was the reason why he let Dominic shepherd him into the kitchen with a surprisingly minimal amount of fuss. Content for the moment to humour the man as he sat, watching as he bustled about like a masculine and somewhat sullen looking mother hen.
The man said remarkably little as he puttered around the kitchen, carrying on with the air of someone who was decidedly comfortable with his surroundings. Something which he found marginally surprising if one considered the fact that he was almost certain that the man had never stepped a foot in his kitchen in all the years he had known him.
Indeed, even as he watched as the man opened up his cabinets and cupboards. A determined look plastered across his handsome face as he brought down the small, dusty looking First Aid kit that he had forgotten he even had, he couldn't help the wry chuckle of amusement that issued from between his lips. In fact, given the amount of take out they both lived off of he was half surprised that the younger man knew his way around akitchen at all.
In short order the man had filled a shallow basin with steaming water and plunked it down on the table in front of him, throwing a clean cloth over his shoulder, and washing his hands briskly. Ignoring all his soft protests as he rolled up his shirt sleeves and moved towards him, a determined look firmly set across the span of his troubled features.
The man already had his hand soaking in the basin, the soft cloth and warm water already loosening the taunt skin as he poked through the ancient looking first aid kit, by the time he had a moment to shore up his wits and speak again.
"I can do this myself Dominic." He finally remarked, voice gentle, but tone edging on the being somewhat reproachful as he shifted with growing discomfort, the soft rub of his shorts brushing along the skin of his naked thighs suffusing him with an entirely different sort of heat then he was properly used to. The sensation making him realize, not for the first time since Dominic had appeared at his door, that he was still wandering around in his blooming bed clothes!
But the man only met his eyes overtop the basin as he worked, barely slowing the movements of the soft cloth as he sloughed off the dried blood, delicately cleaning around the ragged flesh that rimmed the edges of the wound as he continued on.
"I know Inspector." He replied simply, catching his gaze briefly before looking back down and continuing his ministrations. And after a long expectant moment, he let him. Nothing more was said on the matter between them after that. Not that he would have known what to say anyway…
He'd never been good at this kind of thing.. Even before Norsefire…
Glossary: Chapter Title is Latin for: "Your fate is what you make."
A/N: Please let me know what you think? Reviews and constructive critiquing are love! If you took time to read it, please tell me how you found it. This is how I go about improving my writing.