Better The Devil You Know...
Summary: Sleeping with someone these days is a novelty.Sleeping in the same bed as Ethan again, after all this time, however, is unsettling.
FR15 Pairing Giles/Ethan
Written, once again, for Raven_Rayne_314, who wanted to see my take on their 'bedtime' ^^
Better The Devil You Know…
It would have been far more appropriate and melodramatic, Giles thought to himself, were there thunder and lightning in the sky, and sheets of rain pelting against the window so hard that he feared for whether it would remain intact.
This; the warm summer breeze, which stirred lazily through the window really didn’t do things; this, justice. For god’s sake, there wasn’t even a full moon, or a bottle of scotch that he could blame his actions on, not this time.
Outside the window, which had been left open a crack, a cricket thrilled it’s song of summer love.
And, as though in response to that insects’ proclamation, the thin, lithe figure in his arms rolled towards him, and pressed flush against him, making a tiny noise of contentment as he did so.
It was still instinctual, even after all this time, to tighten his grasp and hold the other man close.
He closed his eyes, tried to still his thoughts.
He’d sworn never to do this again, never to allow himself to weaken to the point where this looked like an attractive option, but here he was.
Again.
Sharing a bed with Ethan.
No matter what resolutions he made, it always seemed that he failed to keep them; at least as far as this one man was concerned.
He’d told himself that he was fine on his own, that Ethan, a who’s a wanted bloody criminal, for god’s sake, was the last person in the world that he needed, but while he may have fooled others around him he couldn’t ever convince himself of the truth in that statement -Because it was a truth that wasn’t there.
If there was one person in the world that he needed, even in spite of himself, then it was this man. Ever since the first time that he’d been to bed with Ethan, the first time that he’d ever slept with another man, with the only other man that he’d ever bedded in any seriousness (he didn’t count the orgies, because they had been a natural side-effect of summoning Eyghon) he’d needed him.
It was nearly four in the morning by the time he’d forced himself to relax enough to the point where sleep was actually a viable option. And as he drifted out, on the tides of consciousness, he found himself remembering other times, other nights and mornings with this man.
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As the first light of the day played across Ethan’s face, the younger man stirred, groaning softly. The heavy partying of the night before hadn’t left a single trace on him, as per usual.
And neither had the drunken debauchery that had followed it.
Ethan opened his eyes a crack, squinting against the bright morning light. Then he caught Ripper’s gaze, which was on him, intent, and the corners of his mouth twitching up into a grin. There was no denying that the single-minded focus, which was directed on him, was more then enough to stir his interest.
“Morning, you twisted little bastard.”
“Just the way you love me.”
Ethan’s laid-back grin became an open smirk, at the words, which were belied by the fond tone that they were spoken in.
“Yes, it is morning Rupes,” a light, quick hand snaked out, and began to play over Giles’s chest, “How nice of you to notice. And you’re just peeved at me because I thought to balance the after-effects of the party with magick before I got wasted. Unlike someone else.”
Until Ethan had gone ahead and added that last part to his sentence Giles had been quite happy to allow that wandering hand free reign. But as soon as he did so, pushing things to the limit as he always did, challenging and testing, always challenging and testing, Giles caught Ethan’s hand in his left, and squeezed it just to the point where it was uncomfortably tight.
“Didn’t you get enough last night, you prat?” Again, the words were said with a note of affection.
Ethan sent a touch of magick along the nerves in Giles’s hand, so that he could free his own hand with no damage done, as he gave his companion the most charming grin in his repetatur, “Do you honestly think that I could ever have enough of you, now that I’ve finally found you?”
Giles rolled his eyes in response, just as the smell of Deirdre’s cooking filtered through the small flat. Most other mornings that would have had him bounding down the stairs, two at a time, because Deirdre is a bloody skilled cook. But not this morning…
Ethan was just as good with his clever words, at getting himself out of trouble as he was at getting himself into it.
And it’s still enough of a novelty, waking up next to someone every morning, that he didn’t want to rush out on the possibility of anything.
Rolling over, he propped himself up on one hand, and leaning over Ethan he pressed his lips against his best friends. Ethan closed his eyes and groaned out loud, as he raised the hand that had, minutes before, been playing over him, to grasp the back of his head and pull him down, deepening the kiss.
Giles chuckled into it, as he indulged, slipping his tongue between Ethan’s parted lips, seeking out the other mans tongue, and exploring the warm wetness of his mouth.
“Greedy,” he growled, when they broke for air.
It was pointless to argue with Ethan. In the end he always got what he wanted.
He could feel a wide grin spreading over his own face.
It was a good thing that he didn’t have any plans for the day…
A few minutes later, just when things were starting to get interesting, the door to the room swung open in order to let Deirdre in.
Bugger. I was sure I locked it. Ethan frowned to himself as Ripper broke the kiss, and Ethan glared pointedly at Deirdre for interrupting the fun, “What the hell do you do, Dee?” he glowered at her, “Stand with your ear against the door so that you can figure out the best time to come crashing in?”
He wouldn’t put it past her.
She gave them both her most disarming grin, “At it again, boys?”
“Not fooling either of us, Dee,” Rupert muttered, even as Ethan blushed a little, and Rupert reached over him to snatch the newspaper out of her hand, which she allowed him to have with minimal fuss, before his expression became calculated, “Have fun with Phillip last night, did you?”
“Bugger you, Ripper,” she half-snapped at him, not at all seriously.
“Much rather bugger someone else, thanks,” he didn’t blush, didn’t look away. Ethan wasn’t sure, sometimes, how he managed to keep such a straight face.
She turned, and walked out doing her best to look insulted. Giles chuckled, as he flicked the paper open, mock scowled as Ethan grabbed hold of the pages that he wanted and removed them from the rest of the paper.
That was Ethan. Always taking without asking.
And of course, it was the gossip section that he nicked.
“Why in the world do you wanna read that drivel?”
“Because, mate,” he replied, returning to ghosting his hand over Ripper’s chest, “There’s nothing in London, or the world over, that’s more chaotic then the scandals that make up the lives of the rich and famous.”
It had been a couple of years before they’d started sleeping together, that Ethan had sworn his servitude to chaos.
It was a decision that he wasn’t entirely sure, now, that he would have made if he’d known what had been waiting for him in the future.
This… being in love, and happier then he’d ever been before in his entire life. He closed the pages that he’d nicked, folded the paper, and put it to the side, before noting, not without some satisfaction, that Giles was only half finished.
Grinning, he folded the paper in Rupert’s hands down backwards, until it was in half, even as the other began his habitual protest.
The protest was quickly cut short by the continuation of the kiss that had been interrupted just before.
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He’d grown his hair long enough for Giles to curl around his fingers when he drew his fingers through it, because Ripper liked to be able to hold onto something, liked to have something in his grasp which gave him control. It was a small price to pay, in order to keep a steady lover.
It was amazing -every day he found himself falling a little more in love with Ripper.
He as sure that was something that would never ceased to amaze him.
With everything else that he’d seen, Ripper -Rupert -could barely keep himself under control.
In the early days of their relationship Giles had used to enjoy the odd moment of peace, but these days he was constantly moving from farce to farce, act to act, with a dark, jittery energy just under his skin.
He wasn’t the same man that he had been before, that was a given.
These days Ripper was violent -he had no hesitation about lashing out, dealing with those matters that were sufficient enough to warrant his attention, with a heavy hand and a cold attitude.
But he’d never once struck Ethan. Not in anger, anyway. A few times when they’d been role-playing he’d gotten a little rough, but he’d always kept himself roped in, and Ethan was bloody grateful for that, because Ripper could hit like a tonne of bricks that had been dropped from ten stories above your head.
They had been living in their own little one-bedroom flat for the past six months, not that it was that much different from living with the rest of the circle. Dee still dropped by every morning, if they hadn’t come over by the ungodly hour of ten, with breakfast and a paper if she could nick one.
Half the time, Ethan was sure that she used the walk over just as an excuse to keep her hand in. And the other half of the time he had a feeling that she was hoping that she just might interrupt something.
She was bloody devious in some matters, even if she was completely clueless in others.
Being away from the others, Rupert has allowed himself to come into his own as a lover, too.
Most of the time, now that he’s really warmed up to the idea of sleeping with Ethan, of loving with him, he can relax and let go, acting on instinct and trusting to feeling.
Rupert is a very sensual lover. He loves to spend time, languid and indolent, simply touching Ethan’s body, running fingers and hands over him here and there. Slow, long hours spent, talking to one another with only touch acting as the words between them.
He loves to seek out Ethan’s hotspots, knows them as well as he knows his own, where only the lightest brush of a finger is enough to make his breath quicken, to make him shiver with anticipation, with need, cause him to ache with want, to burn as Rupert whispered his name.
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His arm was numb.
Completely numb, under Ripper’s warm, familiar weight. Still, to have no feeling was better than the pins and needles that he knew would assault him, just as soon as Ripper moved his bloody head, and let the blood-flow back through properly.
With the free hand he reached up and tried to roll Ripper off him, with no luck what so ever.
A pair of lazy, relaxed dark green eyes slowly blinked open and peered at him. Ripper dipped his head, and caught Ethan’s lips, before he could say anything.
That was his Ripper -Always taking control, always taking over, or taking the initiative, or anything else that he could take.
The kiss was unhurried, and just as easy as the expression in Ripper’s eyes. It was a promise of more to come, of more mornings spent together, of more time enjoying one another’s company.
But for now…
The second Ripper lifted himself up, and Ethan could get his arm free he did so. Then he reached up, past Ripper’s head, and towards the bedside table.
Ripper chuckled, following the hand with his eyes. The hand, which paused and hovered, over a small pottle of Vaseline… And then snatched up the T.V remote, which he rolled away with as quickly as possible.
“Twit,” Ripper muttered, fondly, as Ethan raised the remote, aimed it at the T.V, and hit the power button.
Then he flipped the remote over, looked at the back, and scowled at it.
“The battery fell out.”
“Yes, I think you’re right.”
“So?”
“So what?”
“Do you mind handing it over to me?”
“Yeah, I think I do, actually.”
“Oh, come on. I’m missing…”
“You gonna make it worth my while?” Ripper cut him off.
Ethan rolled his eyes, “Don’t I always?”
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He was wearing the leather jacket that Ethan nicked for his birthday last year, and a cold smile, and nothing else.
Eyghon bridged the gap between Ripper and Rupert, made Ripper’s dark, hard violence spread to other areas of Rupert’s life.
Every single aspect of Rupert has been obscured by Ripper -from the tenderness, right through to the moments of peace that Ethan would never have admitted that he enjoyed, in spite of the fact that he did.
Ripper is a lot more then just a stage-name now, more then simply a mask that he takes out in order to show off in front of strangers.
He’s angry all time now, savage and dark and hard. It used to be, that Rupert preferred to use his clever fingers, or his wicked mouth and tongue in order to give Ethan pleasure, but he doesn’t care about that any more.
Fucking was only ever an afterthought.
He only cared about his own gratification now.
No longer so hesitant about hitting Ethan, about hurting him. And Ethan’s tears send a dark tremor of black delight through to the demon, which is at the centre of all of their hearts now.
When he begged, when he screamed, when he bled -it all spoke to the Ripper, placating him and drawing him out.
It’s only his fault.
It all comes back to him.
Because he was the one that found the spell to summon the Sleepwalker, the one who cajoled and enticed Rupert in to doing it, in spite of his reluctance.
Hell, because of his reluctance. He’d seen it as a fresh challenge, to get Rupert to do something else that he didn’t want to, (because look at how well that had turned out last time) and he’d pressed even harder, because he loved to challenge Rupert, and push him, loved to toe the line.
Ripper would have done anything for him with a little pestering, he knows it, they both know it, and Ethan loved to take advantage of that fact.
When the others look at him these days he can see it in their eyes, see that they’re glad that they don’t have to be in his position.
They pity him. God, he pities himself for opening the door to this completely fucked up situation.
If Ripper had been bad before, then he was a thousand times worse these days.
He’d finally found a spot of trouble that he couldn’t use his clever words to talk his way out of.
He moved, to rise from the bed, but Ripper is instantly on top of him, pushing him back, as he moves up the bed with that dark expression on his face, “Where the hell d’you think you’re going, mate?”
“Nowhere.” Anywhere.
Ripper raised a hand and grasped Ethan’s jaw, thumb driving into the flesh just behind the bone, shit it hurts, and Ethan tensed fully expecting the blow to fall.
But it doesn’t. Eyghon… No not Eyghon, Ripper, he reminds himself, although it as near as makes no difference… Ripper never strikes him when he’s expecting it like this.
No. Instead, the free hand slips down and grasps him, squeezing hard, and a sharp bite is delivered to his lower lip, sharp enough to make it bleed, before Ripper’s tongue flicks out to catch one of the drops of blood that runs free.
The kiss is like a kick -makes his gut clench in the same way, makes him feel just as sick.
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Sleeping with someone these days is a novelty.
Sleeping in the same bed as Ethan again, after all this time, however, is unsettling.
The clock reads just after four thirty when Giles wakes, feeling even worse for the lick and promise that sleep had just given him.
There’s no way that he can unwind.
He doesn’t know how Ethan can stand it, after all the pain that he’d given him when they had both been caught in Eyghon’s steely grasp.
It sickens him, to think about it, to dream about it.
To dream about what he’d lost …the easiness, the peace, the trust and love
And yet, somehow, Ethan still does trust him. That much is evident.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to sleep easily in Giles arms.
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It’s just after dawn when Ethan wakes, to find himself in an empty bed. The discovery is one that surprises him, because he’d fully expected to wake to Ripper’s warm arms around him.
Minutes later his fears are alleviated, however, as Ripper comes back into the room with two drinks in his grasp.
And he wonders why he worried in the first place, when after all; this is Ripper’s home.
“Why, Ripper. Just like old times, hmm?” his voice is light, as Giles puts one on the cups down on the little table beside his head, and after a few moments of hesitation, finally sits down on the edge of the bed, grasping his own cup tightly now with both hand, and minimal hope that Ethan hasn’t noticed the trembling in his hands, or the rest of his body.
“Rupert, put the damn cup down before you burn yourself. I can assure you that I’m not going to kiss your crotch just because you’ve gone and spilt hot tea all over yourself.”
“That’s reassuring,” the Watcher’s tone of voice is dry, but he still does as Ethan had suggested.
And as soon as the cup is safely off to the side, Ethan pushes himself up into a sitting position, and slips his arms over Giles’s shoulders, linking his hand together and pulling the other man back against his chest. He’d expected Rupert to shrug free, or make some token protest but instead, with a deep sigh, he allows it.
Ethan closes his eyes for a heartbeat, and breaths in deeply.
He lies back down, and again Ripper goes with minimal protest. He wishes that he could make himself believe that this is a good thing but…
“What’s wrong, Ripper?”
Giles shuts his eyes tightly grappling with the intensity of his own emotion, “Everything.”
“How very specific.” Ethan’s tone of voice is dry, as he raises the hand that wasn’t crushed -pinned -under Ripper’s side when he had lain down, and tenderly brushes away the hair that had fallen forward, out of Ripper’s eyes.
Rupert swallowed, “This. You and I. You and I together… It… it’s all wrong, Ethan.”
Shivered, as Ethan pressed a light kiss to his bare shoulder, “It’s what we both wanted, Ripper. What makes it so wrong?”
“I… oh, god, I don’t know. How you can stand me, stand to be around me… to… God, Ethan. When I think of it, of what I put you through, it makes me sick.”
“All more’s the pity that love isn’t rational, isn’t it?”
“You… You love me? Still?”
“If I didn’t love you then why else would I have crawled into your bed so often?”
“But that was before.”
“Was. Still is.”
The fingers untangled from his hair, and traced lightly over one of the worse scars on his back, noting to himself the way that Ripper tensed slightly against the contact. They were some of the few scars that he refused, outright, to talk about, and that was something that Ethan hated.
To make the once-stoic Ripper get that pinched, tight-lipped expression, whenever the subject arose…
Giles can’t think of an answer to that.
And perhaps silence is safer.
Neither of them had ever been the type of person that had had to fill up the silence with pointless chatter.
Ethan draws him closer, holds him tighter. It’s harder to fight, when they’re like this -Harder to remember the dark history, all the water under the bridge, harder to remember that when all is said and done, they’re meant to hate each other still.
Ripper rolls over, and with that movent they’re almost eye-to-eye.
Janus, but he loved those eyes. Beautiful, and deep and dark and green -That cool gaze, which, in moments like this made him fell like he had actually mattered to someone at some stage in his fucked-up life.
Ripper is dominant, and Rayne is submissive, even in spite of Ethan’s touch of fire, and that’s the way it always has been, and always will be.
And there’s a reason that Ethan’s always come back.
Because, in spite of anything else that may have happened, then when all is said and done, then it’s here in Ripper’s bed, with his old friend’s arms around him, that he can find his peace.