Okay, I apologize profusely for the incredibly long wait, but if I don't update my PJO fics often, I have mini riots on my hands. It's not a pretty sight. But I noticed the new review that I hadn't read before and decided to write a new chapter. Also, I see all these reviews for standing up for what I believe in. And while I'm grateful, it's unnecessary. I don't do that kind of thing to rack up the reviews, I do it because it's the right thing to do. I strongly believe that love is not biased or racist or whatever you want to call it. I don't stand up for what I believe it to be praised (though it's nice to see so many additional supporters). I do it because it's what I've been taught to do.
…
Will never did get to do his assessment, which irked him. After all his planning and worrying, nothing! But Morgarath was on the prowl again, so they needed to break quickly and go scout out his home base at the Mountain of Rain and Night. The apprentices were told to go back to their fiefs, which none of them complained about. Frankly, Will would be happy to return to Horace's warm embrace and soft lips, if he could coax another kiss out of him that is. Will rode Tug in silence, wishing, not for the first time, that Halt was coming back with him. But Halt was with the force going to scout the mountain, and for good reasons. Halt was the best Ranger of this millennium. If anyone could safely discover what Morgarath was up to, it was Halt.
The apprentice ranger appeared at the cabin after a few hours riding. He was weary from the lack of sleep and the hard travel on short notice. He untied his pack from Tug's saddle, and the little horse tossed his head and nickered. Will fed him an apple then patted his snout affectionately. He made his way inside the cabin, wishing nothing more than to collapse onto his bed from exhaustion. What he was greeted with, however, made him wake up quick. Horace hadn't heard Will enter, which was strange because they purposely didn't oil the hinges on the door so it gave an almighty creak when someone opened the door. Horace was using a damp cloth to wipe down the mantel of the fireplace, and he hummed quietly to himself. Will wasn't supposed to be back for a couple of days, but two of Jenny's meat pies were cooling on the table. He knew they were hers simply by the smell.
"Hello Horace," Will said, chuckling lowly when Horace whirled around to look for the apprentice ranger. But Will was still wrapped securely in his cloak, and he melded into the background. Horace stuck his lip out in a pout and huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Very funny Will," he said. "Can you come out now? I wasn't expecting you home, so I thought I'd have more time to clean for you." Will took pity on the apprentice and stepped out of the shadows, throwing the cowl of his cloak back. He ran a hand through his dark hair, wishing it would cooperate for a change. "My my Will. You're going to give me quite the fright one of these days doing that."
"Sorry Horace," Will replied, sinking into his place at the table. "Morgarath is stirring again, so I never got to do my assessment. The worrying I did was all for nothing." That got the battle school apprentice's attention. He sat opposite of Will, shoving one of Jenny's pies in front of him.
"Eat while you talk," he said. "Jenny made these especially for you. She figured you'd be hungry when you returned." Hungry was too mild a word to describe how Will was feeling. Famished about covered it. Will tucked in eagerly, sighing and closing his eyes in pleasure. Jenny's pies were always the best. "See, you are hungry," Horace said with a small smile of triumph. "Hey, before we get to all the grim stuff, how'd you sleep last night?" Will paused in his devouring of the savory pie and looked at Horace.
"Not a wink," he replied, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I tossed and turned so much I think I hit Halt once or twice. But since I still have all my limbs, I'm assuming he's not too mad about the fact. Because of that fact, I'm slightly glad that the assessment was cancelled. I might've fallen asleep!" The very idea horrified the apprentice ranger. Horace moved beside him and stilled his shaking shoulders. Will was unaware that they'd been shaking in the first place.
"You're exhausted Will," Horace said, picking the smaller boy up. "You can tell me all about Morgarath later. Right now, you need a nap." At the word nap, Will yawned. Now that Horace mentioned it, sleep did sound like a wonderful idea. The muscular youth carried the smaller boy into his room, laying with him and cradling him against his chest. Will grabbed hold of Horace's shirt to make sure he was real. Horace chuckled lowly. "I'm here Will. It's okay. Sleep now." Will's eyelids were growing increasingly heavier, and he curled up against the battleschool apprentice. Horace flipped onto his back and allowed Will to tuck his head under his chin. His arms went around the smaller boy once again, anchoring Will's lithe body to his own. Soon, Will was out. Horace wasn't the least bit tired, because he did finally manage to doze, so he was content to watch Will sleep, and play with his dark hair so he stayed asleep. And how cute he looked too.
…
"Morning sleepyhead." That was the first thing Will heard when he woke from his nap. It must've been several hours later, because it was dark outside his window now. He languidly stretched his arms above his head. "Ow," he heard. He closed his eyes. This couldn't be real. Horace wasn't holding him. He was just dreaming from a coma-like sleep. But when he opened his eyes, he found Horace smiling down at him. "You've been asleep for seven hours Will. You were zonked."
"Ugh, I feel like I haven't slept at all," Will complained, fisting Horace's shirt. "But I'm glad you're here. It's nice to be surrounded by friends." He gazed around the empty cabin. "Well, you know what I mean," he huffed at last. Horace laughed.
"I do," he agreed. "I do know what you mean. I'm glad you're back early. Sir Rodney gave me the rest of the week off to prepare your cabin, so now I can use those few days off to talk to you. And do this." The battleschool apprentice's lips sought the apprentice ranger's lips, and an arch of electricity shot down Will's spine. But it felt good. Finally, a proper kiss. But friends didn't do this. He was so startled by it all, he shoved Horace away. "Is something wrong Will?" he asked, alarm beginning to show in his features. "I haven't hurt you, have I?" He began inspecting the apprentice ranger for even the tiniest bit of damage. Will shoved him aside.
"I'm fine you great oaf," he said crossly. Horace sat back down, tilting his head to the side. He was confused. "We're friends, Horace." The apprentice ranger laid a little extra stress on the word friends. "Just friends don't kiss, unless they're more than friends." The confusion cleared, but only to be replaced with sadness.
"I…I rather thought…." Horace didn't get much farther. He bolted from the room and flew out the door, swinging up onto Kicker and spurring him into action in the same motion. Will staggered after them, but he fell face first into the earth. He hadn't meant it like that. He was trying to imply that they needed to be more than friends before they continued with the next step in their relationship. He hadn't meant to hurt his friend.
…
It was close to midnight, and Will was neither tired nor wide awake. He sat in front of the fireplace, staring glumly at the coals that had gone out some hours ago. It was lonely in this smallish cabin by himself. He missed Horace so much it hurt when he breathed. He honestly hadn't meant to hurt the battleschool apprentice. Thing was, Will wasn't sure how to make it up to him. He'd never really apologized for something he did before. Sure, he said sorry, but that wouldn't cut it this time. He wanted to prove to Horace that he was sorry from the bottom of his heart. He didn't want to get him a gift. Too material. He wasn't any good with words, like George or Alyss, so that was out too. What could he do? And with what talents he had?
Will paced the length of the cabin, but walking in a ten foot line only worked for so long. He switched to staring out the window at the sliver of moon. It was just like a Wargal scratch, but not as deep and this wouldn't eventually kill you. The moon offered no ideas, so back to pacing it was. He was in for a long night.
…
Well how bout that? A little longer. Any more hate? Bring it on! I got a ton of stuff ready for ya!