JOHN BARROWMAN / SCOTT GILL RPS FIC - DAMN HIS EYES - Part 14
Sorry it's been so long, folks. Work and real life got in my way.
More to come very soon.
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JOHN BARROWMAN / SCOTT GILL RPS FIC - DAMN HIS EYES - Part 14
Title: Damn His Eyes
Characters : John Barrowman and Scott Gill. Dan and Paul + others - fictional friends
Rating : PG
Disclaimer : I don't know or own JB or SG. All this is my imagination.
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part 14
John was down the steps and in the road before he realised that he’d left Scott in Terry’s rooms.
But Scott had spoken to him, hadn’t he? And that meant he must be ok, didn’t it?
Fighting the urge to go racing back up the steps, John took a deep breath to calm his nerves.
Find Dan, Scott said.
But Dan and Paul were going to stay with a friend. Which friend? Where?
Wondering if they might not have left yet, John took off at a run for the hotel Kelebek.
“Don’t touch any of it!” - Phil’s voice.
“There’re some gloves in that case.” - Terry.
“What just happened here?” - Andy’s voice, sounding very unsure.
“Is he dead?” - Terry.
“Probably not. We’ll worry about him in a minute.” - Phil.
Scott lay as still as he could, listening to the men.
He’d have liked to open his eyes to find out if Andy still had the bloody gun, but all the time they thought he was either unconscious or dead gave John precious minutes to find Dan.
John dashed up the steps of the hotel and shoved at the revolving door only to have his progress halted by some people trying to get into the door from the reception side. The glass panels had blue butterflies on them at face height, probably for safety reasons. Why butterflies? The whole nightmare of a vacation was centered around fucking butterflies, he thought angrily as he waited for the young couple to manoeuvre their buggy into the opposite section of the door.
Unable to wait any longer in the hot confines, John stepped back out onto the street and waited impatiently for the doors to become less congested.
He scowled at the hotel sign. That had a blue butterfly on it as well.
You will die unless you betray your true love
Now Phil was over the other side of the desk, Scott found he didn’t hurt so much.
He wished, for the life of him, that he could work out what the bloody phrase meant.
Phil had never been his true love.
John was.
Yes, he’d been attracted to Phil and, if he was honest, he still could be.
But there had never been that whoomph! that he’d felt when he met John.
Then there was the nose.
The butterfly he’d picked up and flung across the room hadn’t hurt him in the slightest. He realised now why he felt so awful every time Phil touched him.
Pain stabbed through his head a split second before a foot nudged him. It had to be Phil’s foot, checking to see if he really was still unconscious.
The pain confirmed what Scott had suspected.
Phil had the real thing concealed in his pocket.
John bounced impatiently on the balls of his feet while the young couple made very slow progress in using the revolving door. How the hell did they think they were all going to fit in one section? Surely the Dad and the toddler would be better in one section and the Mom and baby plus buggy in the next.
John was just about to offer his thoughts when a taxi drew up behind him.
A familiar voice, laughing, said, “He’d forget his bloody head if it wasn’t attached!”
John spun around.
“Paul! Where’s Dan?”
“In the taxi.” Paul said, “Are you OK?”
“I need to . . .” John opened the door and peered in. “Dan.” he said, “Scott gave you a paper? He says to find you and ask you for the paper.”
“I’ve done it.” Dan said, “I acted on it straight away. I really don’t know why I’m doing anything for Scott. Tell him it’s done.”
John crouched down by the open door and looked quizzically at Dan.
“I don’t get it.” he said.
“Get in. I’ll explain.” Dan offered.
John got in and sat on the seat next to Dan.
“Do you know who Eddie Clarkson-Colleridge is?” Dan asked. John shook his head. “Rufus Colleridge? The archeologist?” Dan tried, “No? Christ! Eddie is Rufus’s grandson.” Dan went on, exasperated by John’s blank expression, “Right. Your Scott and Eddie were an item back in the late eighties, early nineties. Scott broke his heart when he left him for . . . .”
Dan smiled as realization crept over John’s face.
Of course, Scott had been seeing a guy named Eddie when John and he had first met in Chichester. Eddie was history by the time John and Scott started dating properly. John had no idea of Eddie’s surname, but then, why would he have?
“I picked up the pieces.” Dan went on, “Or at least I tried to. It was difficult. I loved Eddie but I was never good enough, you know? I could never make the grade. Never be as good as Scott, in or out of bed. Technically he destroyed Eddie and the chances of any future men after him. So for that, I’m not too keen on your Scott. But . . . Scott gave me a piece of paper with a lot of details on it, all about some ancient cursed artifact. He wrote that Rufus was going to be swindled out of a fortune and neither he, nor I, for Eddie’s sake, want that to happen. So tell Scott I’ve made the calls.”
“But Scott’s in danger and Andy has a gun and I . . .I . . .we have to help him, please.” John begged.
“When Paul comes out, we can drive to where Scott is.” Dan said, “Oleander next please.” he told the driver.
John looked suspicious. “How do you know he’s at the Oleander?” he asked.
“It’s on the piece of paper. Scott wrote it himself. Look.” Dan said, handing John the paper.
Paul appeared carrying a leather fly switch.
“Got it.” He said, slapping the leather thongs against his hand.
John missed the hungry look that came into Dan’s eyes as he stared at the switch.
John quickly scanned the page of familiar spiky writing. His eyes picked out the words “Oleander” and also Rufus’ and Eddie’s names.
Written at the bottom of the page were the words - “If this all goes wrong, and the supposed curse is true, make sure that you tell John that I love him more than icecream - he’ll understand. Thanks. Scott.”
John clapped a hand over his mouth and stared with tear-filled eyes at Dan.
“Please hurry.” He said to the driver.
More to come very soon.
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JOHN BARROWMAN / SCOTT GILL RPS FIC - DAMN HIS EYES - Part 14
Title: Damn His Eyes
Characters : John Barrowman and Scott Gill. Dan and Paul + others - fictional friends
Rating : PG
Disclaimer : I don't know or own JB or SG. All this is my imagination.
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part 14
John was down the steps and in the road before he realised that he’d left Scott in Terry’s rooms.
But Scott had spoken to him, hadn’t he? And that meant he must be ok, didn’t it?
Fighting the urge to go racing back up the steps, John took a deep breath to calm his nerves.
Find Dan, Scott said.
But Dan and Paul were going to stay with a friend. Which friend? Where?
Wondering if they might not have left yet, John took off at a run for the hotel Kelebek.
“Don’t touch any of it!” - Phil’s voice.
“There’re some gloves in that case.” - Terry.
“What just happened here?” - Andy’s voice, sounding very unsure.
“Is he dead?” - Terry.
“Probably not. We’ll worry about him in a minute.” - Phil.
Scott lay as still as he could, listening to the men.
He’d have liked to open his eyes to find out if Andy still had the bloody gun, but all the time they thought he was either unconscious or dead gave John precious minutes to find Dan.
John dashed up the steps of the hotel and shoved at the revolving door only to have his progress halted by some people trying to get into the door from the reception side. The glass panels had blue butterflies on them at face height, probably for safety reasons. Why butterflies? The whole nightmare of a vacation was centered around fucking butterflies, he thought angrily as he waited for the young couple to manoeuvre their buggy into the opposite section of the door.
Unable to wait any longer in the hot confines, John stepped back out onto the street and waited impatiently for the doors to become less congested.
He scowled at the hotel sign. That had a blue butterfly on it as well.
You will die unless you betray your true love
Now Phil was over the other side of the desk, Scott found he didn’t hurt so much.
He wished, for the life of him, that he could work out what the bloody phrase meant.
Phil had never been his true love.
John was.
Yes, he’d been attracted to Phil and, if he was honest, he still could be.
But there had never been that whoomph! that he’d felt when he met John.
Then there was the nose.
The butterfly he’d picked up and flung across the room hadn’t hurt him in the slightest. He realised now why he felt so awful every time Phil touched him.
Pain stabbed through his head a split second before a foot nudged him. It had to be Phil’s foot, checking to see if he really was still unconscious.
The pain confirmed what Scott had suspected.
Phil had the real thing concealed in his pocket.
John bounced impatiently on the balls of his feet while the young couple made very slow progress in using the revolving door. How the hell did they think they were all going to fit in one section? Surely the Dad and the toddler would be better in one section and the Mom and baby plus buggy in the next.
John was just about to offer his thoughts when a taxi drew up behind him.
A familiar voice, laughing, said, “He’d forget his bloody head if it wasn’t attached!”
John spun around.
“Paul! Where’s Dan?”
“In the taxi.” Paul said, “Are you OK?”
“I need to . . .” John opened the door and peered in. “Dan.” he said, “Scott gave you a paper? He says to find you and ask you for the paper.”
“I’ve done it.” Dan said, “I acted on it straight away. I really don’t know why I’m doing anything for Scott. Tell him it’s done.”
John crouched down by the open door and looked quizzically at Dan.
“I don’t get it.” he said.
“Get in. I’ll explain.” Dan offered.
John got in and sat on the seat next to Dan.
“Do you know who Eddie Clarkson-Colleridge is?” Dan asked. John shook his head. “Rufus Colleridge? The archeologist?” Dan tried, “No? Christ! Eddie is Rufus’s grandson.” Dan went on, exasperated by John’s blank expression, “Right. Your Scott and Eddie were an item back in the late eighties, early nineties. Scott broke his heart when he left him for . . . .”
Dan smiled as realization crept over John’s face.
Of course, Scott had been seeing a guy named Eddie when John and he had first met in Chichester. Eddie was history by the time John and Scott started dating properly. John had no idea of Eddie’s surname, but then, why would he have?
“I picked up the pieces.” Dan went on, “Or at least I tried to. It was difficult. I loved Eddie but I was never good enough, you know? I could never make the grade. Never be as good as Scott, in or out of bed. Technically he destroyed Eddie and the chances of any future men after him. So for that, I’m not too keen on your Scott. But . . . Scott gave me a piece of paper with a lot of details on it, all about some ancient cursed artifact. He wrote that Rufus was going to be swindled out of a fortune and neither he, nor I, for Eddie’s sake, want that to happen. So tell Scott I’ve made the calls.”
“But Scott’s in danger and Andy has a gun and I . . .I . . .we have to help him, please.” John begged.
“When Paul comes out, we can drive to where Scott is.” Dan said, “Oleander next please.” he told the driver.
John looked suspicious. “How do you know he’s at the Oleander?” he asked.
“It’s on the piece of paper. Scott wrote it himself. Look.” Dan said, handing John the paper.
Paul appeared carrying a leather fly switch.
“Got it.” He said, slapping the leather thongs against his hand.
John missed the hungry look that came into Dan’s eyes as he stared at the switch.
John quickly scanned the page of familiar spiky writing. His eyes picked out the words “Oleander” and also Rufus’ and Eddie’s names.
Written at the bottom of the page were the words - “If this all goes wrong, and the supposed curse is true, make sure that you tell John that I love him more than icecream - he’ll understand. Thanks. Scott.”
John clapped a hand over his mouth and stared with tear-filled eyes at Dan.
“Please hurry.” He said to the driver.