**warning chapter contains adult content, but at this point are you really surprised?**
Chapter 12. Metal and Dust
And so, you built a life on trust
Though it starts, with love and lust
And when your house, begins to rust
Oh, it's just, metal and dust
We argue, we don't fight
We argue, we don't fight
And all foundation that we made
Built to last, they disintegrate
And when your house begins to rust
Oh, it's just, metal and dust
We argue, we don't fight
Stay awake in the middle of the night
~London Grammar, Metal & Rust
"Where have you been?" The little sound of his voice made William's heart break as Jem held him and buried his face into his neck. He wanted nothing more than to take away that ache, to go back and change what it was he had done; and have left on better terms—told him where it was he was going, and leave him with a promise that he would return. But true soldiers knew better than to make promises they could not keep, and in the face of a war the unrest of the city was enough to shake him free from the stupid idea of loyalty. Jem was better off without him, protected now by raven wings, but Will had given in to his weakness. All he wanted was one more night, one more chance to see those silver eyes blink up at him, and he quickly touched Jem's cheeks to chase away the tears that fell like rain.
"I've not been far," Will brushed his thumb along the corners of Jem's mouth, feeling the warmth of his breath like a second chance, and wanting of him as he never had before.
"I've been so worried, William, you can't do this to me," Jem held onto the other as though he knew that Will was drowning. They both treaded water so carefully, keeping the surface just at their chest hoping to not be swallowed whole, but Jem knew that William was tired—he could feel it in his bones. And where he had been holding onto him, Jem now held him up as the ice around him started to thaw, and the pain set in.
"I'm…I…s-sorry," Will's teeth chattered and he blinked in attempt to clear his blurry vision and stay upright, but his futile attempts failed him and the last thing he could remember was strong little hands and a distant voice calling out his name.
Great halls were meant for gatherings as this, parties that were fit for any queen and where men sat at the edges of tables like kings. Jean-Luc had grown up in an era as this, knowing only the formal manners of those around him and of the very regimented formalities of how to properly conduct oneself as though bred to only ever attend events. From the formal dining hall to the great ballroom London's material wealth flashed like brilliant stars, each one brighter than the next and forming a powerful night sky for all to see. Lords, Ladies, and the Royal Family celebrated the birth of a savior by flashing false smiles and forgetting for one night that outside the golden gates there was a war washing up on a sea of blood. This was not the first time that London had known such violence, but with the rest of the world starving it was in their best interest to deal with the civil uprising quickly.
It won't be long before we smoke them out, we found one of their hideouts. Rebel scum.
"I grow tired of this talk, Jean-Luc," The woman to whom he'd escorted whined at the edge of his hem, her hand resting in a place that just a few hour ago Jem had touched and he hated her for it. His dark eyes, soulless and sinister shifted so that she could not read them, but knew enough to be still. There was much more to the Professor than he let on, but it didn't take those intimate with him to know. He was a brilliant man, but was getting careless in his desperation and affection of the little silver haired student.
"I need a drink, come find me when you are done with your cabbages and kings," And while the sea is boiling hot, and whether pigs have wings. (~Louis Carol) Jean-Luc knew that he should have cared a little more that his date was upset, that she was parted from him with such a heavy sigh, but he could not bring himself to leave the conversation. He knew that at any moment he would be asked of his opinion, and though the university has been under lots of pressure in the media he knew that an educators opinion during times of crisis was always welcome. If only for a moment, he could fool himself into thinking that a diplomatic truce would come from this—if only he could get his grace to listen.
"We will strike at dawn, and force those bastards right out. They can't hide forever. We have already cut off their supplies and without the proper medicine to treat the wounded, well I dare say it won't be long before we are rid of them, and if we don't do it. God will." a fat bellied man spoke with such conviction that one would think he had the answer to the war there in his fat grubby hands.
"I did not think God chose a side during civil wars, Lord Bryant," Jean-Luc spoke unable to stop himself, and standing just a few shoulders down from the lord in question while those around him parted as if they were the very fingers of God almighty parting the Red Sea. A few little gasps bulked at the nerve of the man to question such a noble and steadfast authority.
"Well he may not normally, Professor, but this time he has. All of those rebel bastards are dying one by one with the infection, and even I can't take credit for that. Soon all of England will be free from such scum, think of it—an England free of homosexuals, a world without Muslim barbarians, and savage sinners. I raise a glass to that!" And around him the crystal chimed like church bells, and thankfully his gloved hands were without a glass. Instead, his fingers tightened around the head of his cane, wanting nothing more than to run the silver clad tip through the barrel of this fools chest. Venomous words held to his tongue like poison and the more he stood there, the closer he came to spitting them in the eyes of who dare speak such ignorant folly. However, no matter how unsettled he may have been on the inside, Jean-Luc stood the very picture of pride with his shoulders square and everything in place, and had it not been for this he may have missed the flash of eyes that mirrored his own.
The only difference being his did not have the clear catlike distinction, and burned like amber fire.
"Perhaps we should call the Professor home," A woman's voice soft and gentle filtered in through his fitful dreams, but William couldn't recognize it. The pain he knew, the cold as well, but when he felt the needle enter his skin he didn't dare fight against it. Perhaps, it was just all a dream too because the voice that came next was as welcome as a spring day.
"No, I would not worry him. I can handle this," The transformation that the little maid saw in Jem was uncanny and she wished the rest of the staff was here to see it. He truly was in his element. Jem rolled back his sleeves and went to work on the boy as though medicine truly was his second nature, and started to work on getting blood samples. "He's exhausted and dehydrated but the IV will kick in soon, and it would probably do us both some good to have something to eat?" The little mouse of a woman bobbed her head and scurried down into the kitchen, after she watched Jem draw a bit of blood from the fallen.
Holding the vial up to the light Jem hadn't noticed that blue eyes had opened and watched him with a warm affection that came with wicked amusement. Will knew that if he drew attention to himself now the vial would be dropped in Jem's surprised state, but he couldn't help the desire to reach out and touch the young man who he dreamed of so often. His clothes had been changed, his skin felt cleaner than it had in weeks, and Will could tell that his hair was still damp.
"Looking for ways to clone me Gin?" The pet name one he worried he would never get to use again, and when Jem scrunched his nose at the sound of it Will knew it had the same affect as it did that very first time they met,
"You Jean?" The stranger asked, and somewhere Jem prayed this wasn't the student who was going to take him to the University. He would rather walk.
"Jian." Jem corrected him, looking for any sort of badge or ID to confirm the other man's identity. They were supposed to send another student, not James Dean. Regardless, the platform was starting to empty, and they were suddenly alone. "Are you, Mr. Herondale?" Jem fumbled for the paper that had been the only instructions they had given him.
"Gin?" The youth cracked his lips in a small cat like smirk, and Jem could tell he was biting back laughter, "Like the drink?" His thin fingers came to remove the cigarette from his lips, taking a long drag before the smoke spilled from his lips like water. Jem wrinkled his nose in disgust and fanned his face to break apart the fog.
"No..Ji-an, James if you can't say it."
…
They walked a little further in silence, Jem with his suitcase, and Will smoking his cigarette. It wouldn't be until they exited the train station into the almost empty streets, and Will made his way over to an old rusty motorbike that was older then both of them combined did start his protest.
"Where is your car?" He asked looking the old motorbike over with a look of terror, and when Will straddled the seat of the old Vintage Royal Endield all the color from his face paled. "This is not funny." He clutched the suitcase again to his chest while Will set back on the seat, "I am not getting on that rusty thing."
"You chicken?" Will slurred, pulling the blunt of his smoke between his fingers to take the final drag, "She's from World War II, Jin." As if history somehow made it better, "She doesn't take much gas, and is sturdier then she looks."
~Chapter 2
"Oh no," Jem smiled coming to the bedside after the vial's of Will's blood were safe in the tray, "I think the world could not handle two of you." His pale fingers came to brush the bruised hand of the other and his thumb brushed along Will's knuckles, "Get into a fight recently?" He asked with a tentative desire for the truth, half of him didn't want to know. Jem liked to pretend that Will wasn't out there on the streets, that somehow he'd gotten to go back home.
"When am I not in a fight?" Through his weakened state Will was still able to crack a smile, the half grin that made Jem want to confess every sin just so he could start on a new one, and for a moment Jem wanted to pretend that everything was alright. Most of those bruises he could recognize as typical William Herondale battle scars, but a few around his neck and down the base of his spine worried Jem more than he cared to admit. However, for now he could set them aside and just enjoy the time they had together.
"Please take this thing out of me," Will lifted his hand with the IV port, but Jem shook his head. "Jem please…it's bad enough I'm here on your cloud, intruding on your kept boy lifestyle, and have you tending to me like a fair maiden." He regretted the words the moment he said them as he felt silver eyes grow cold, and the little medic was quick to find a pressure point in his wrist that made him squeal like a child.
"I am not, a kept boy!" Jem hissed at the other man wanting nothing more than to make William eat those words. "I am a guest in the house of a Professor who has been nothing but kind to me. Do not be cruel, especially when you left without so much as even saying good-bye." He was getting hysterical and he knew it, and had a hard time controlling the rush of emotion that swelled inside him. However, just as quickly as the anger came his sorrow moved to replace it, and the look there upon the broken young man nearly made Will's heart stop.
"James…" He breathed the young man's name, reaching out to take the hand who nearly lost his hold, and pulled him closer, "I didn't want to just leave you."
"Don't William," Jem put up his hand to stop himself from falling right back into those arms, despite how badly he wanted to be reunited with his lover. "You don't have say anything. I know why you did it. I've known for a very long time." He didn't have the heart to tell him that he too was infected, but he felt that Will should know that everything he was doing—he was doing out of love.
"I know you have, but that doesn't make it any easier," Will finally confessed as he pulled Jem down on top of him, and despite how much the infection had stolen from him—how much strength he no longer had it still amazed Jem at how absolute power thrived beneath blue veins. William Herondale's blood was made of fire, and it swelled up red hot in his eyes enough that Jem watched in amazement as the deep blue nearly burned the skin of his sockets. He sat up and put his arms around Jem, keeping him there to straddle his hips, and dared him to refuse him again.
"Take this thing out of my arm," His lips brushed along the pale column of Jem's throat, and he felt the submissive youth come to life beneath invading fingers and teasing kisses. Jem closed his eyes and tightened his hold, knowing full well he couldn't deny William anything.
"You need it," He breathed as he felt the other boy suck on the tender flesh beneath his ear, and caught his bottom lip between his teeth to quell a moan. His fight was for nothing as he found himself on the flat of his back with a single sweep, the rock hard surface of his lover pinning him down and his own body arched to meet him.
"You can put it back in after I am finished with you," Will's voice breathed along the small space between them as he both pinned Jem with his hands and his thighs. "Do not deny me, let me love you." He kissed every bit of skin he could find, and smiled when he felt Jem start to fumble for the IV port. Will made a quick descent upon the youth to undo his belt and free the cock that ached below.
"William wait…I have to put pressure on this, I—" His voice was stolen as he felt Will's hot lips swallow him down, and Jem who had managed to remove the port applied pressure with the cotton bandages was trapped. Somewhere, he knew Will did this on purpose, he couldn't move—he couldn't protest. All he could do was sit there with the boy in his lap with the option of letting go and getting blood all over the sheets or submitting to the pleasure. Though, William didn't take his eye off the hand that he held, Jem still couldn't tell him that it was too late to worry of the infection. How could he? He knew that William would never forgive himself, but the desire to have him fill every empty hole in his body was enough to nearly bring the confession forward.
"Mhm," Jem moaned as he threw his head back and ran fingers through the dark hair of his lover to urge him on. Will groaned at the tug of his ebony strands and only sank faster with a rush of desire to push his lover over the edge. He hallowed his cheeks and enjoyed the way Jem got revenge on his scalp by being trapped and when he felt his pale haired lover his the back of his throat he stopped to hear the sweet song his little bird sang in the heat of pleasure.
"M-Master Caristairs?" A voice from the hall caused Jem to snap from the after effects of his orgasm and push Will off, "I've brought you something to eat, but…sounds as though you are a bit busy? Is everything alright?"
"F-fine, everything is fine. Just um…sit it outside," He wanted to slap that satisfied grin off William's face, but that wolf like smirk was enough to keep him still. "Here." Jem snapped at William and showed him where to apply pressure, "Hold that there." Jem moved to get up but was pulled back down,
"It can wait," Will whispered though sounding much weaker than before, and Jem settled in beside him after taping the cotton over the IV port. "Just stay here with me a while." His skin was so pale that even Jem for once held more color than he, and though he should have gotten back up to start another round of antibiotics Jem found that he couldn't move. He knew that it was a lost cause to treat him now—not without a cure, but if he could get Will to just rest a while maybe tomorrow would be better.
A/N:
Sure would love it if you guys left a review! Just so I know you are still out there and reading. Believe it or not, this fic is almost done. Shit is about to hit the fan.
Also big shout out to my honey Mareike, for pre-reading this for me and offering some feedback. Thanks! Find her on tumblr at: alec-lightwoodsweirdhabbit
And find me at: Thou-shall-not-fall
Twitter: StarryOwlEyes