TDIR: Together Again
Fandom: The Dark Is Rising
Pairing: Will/Bran
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: And it suddenly all made sense. For fic_on_demand, sequel to Never Again and directly following Over Again.
"I thought you would have been more busy since the last time I spoke to you..."
Bran shrugged slightly, hugging his knees as he had when he'd been a boy sitting on the same hillside. Will sat beside him, their arms just touching, and he was more focused on that than on anything else: focused on the faint warmth, and the more elusive, more subjective feeling of the warmth of companionship. He couldn't remember the last time he'd sat there with anyone. "I... I've never felt like doing much. I missed you."
Will rolled his eyes. "If I'd known you'd waste away without me..."
Bran snorted softly, poking Will in the ribs with one bony elbow. "Hush, you. I'm serious."
"So am I," Will said, immediately, and then made a face. "Well, sort of. I couldn't have stayed, but I might have... I don't know. There's no use in talking about it, anyway. Water under the bridge."
Bran looked at him, for a moment, trying to understand, but then shook his head. "You're still as strange as ever, Will."
"I know," he said, shrugging. He leaned closer, so their shoulders pressed solidly together. "So. What have you been doing, apart from getting taller and ever more handsome?"
He snorted softly, at that. "Not very much. No girlfriends, or anything like that."
"No boyfriends, either, then?" Will asked, and Bran realised that he was tense, almost holding his breath, as he waited for the answer. It didn't take a genius to work out what it meant. Bran turned, slowly, to look at him, pulled away. Will seemed to realise he'd given himself away: he let out his breath, lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, hurriedly. "I was just hoping -- Bran, I'm sorry. I'm an idiot."
"Yes, you are," Bran said, looking at him like everything had suddenly become clear. And, certainly, six years of waiting, six years of missing a friend, had. He reached up and cupped Will's cheek, moved closer, and now he was holding his breath. Their foreheads bumped together. Will seemed to have lost his voice, his mouth slightly open as if he'd like to speak, but no sound coming out. Bran grinned. "Come on, Stanton, hurry up and kiss me. You want to, don't you?"
"Yes," Will said, very quietly, like he was awed. He placed his hand on the back of Bran's neck, feeling the soft hair tickling his palm, and looked into Bran's eyes. "But..."
"Will," Bran said, warningly, and Will laughed, and threw caution to the winds, and kissed him.
Six years of waiting, six years of missing each other, and yet never being ready to forget it -- for both of them, then, it made a lot more sense. And Bran dared to think they might be happy.
Pairing: Will/Bran
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: And it suddenly all made sense. For fic_on_demand, sequel to Never Again and directly following Over Again.
"I thought you would have been more busy since the last time I spoke to you..."
Bran shrugged slightly, hugging his knees as he had when he'd been a boy sitting on the same hillside. Will sat beside him, their arms just touching, and he was more focused on that than on anything else: focused on the faint warmth, and the more elusive, more subjective feeling of the warmth of companionship. He couldn't remember the last time he'd sat there with anyone. "I... I've never felt like doing much. I missed you."
Will rolled his eyes. "If I'd known you'd waste away without me..."
Bran snorted softly, poking Will in the ribs with one bony elbow. "Hush, you. I'm serious."
"So am I," Will said, immediately, and then made a face. "Well, sort of. I couldn't have stayed, but I might have... I don't know. There's no use in talking about it, anyway. Water under the bridge."
Bran looked at him, for a moment, trying to understand, but then shook his head. "You're still as strange as ever, Will."
"I know," he said, shrugging. He leaned closer, so their shoulders pressed solidly together. "So. What have you been doing, apart from getting taller and ever more handsome?"
He snorted softly, at that. "Not very much. No girlfriends, or anything like that."
"No boyfriends, either, then?" Will asked, and Bran realised that he was tense, almost holding his breath, as he waited for the answer. It didn't take a genius to work out what it meant. Bran turned, slowly, to look at him, pulled away. Will seemed to realise he'd given himself away: he let out his breath, lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, hurriedly. "I was just hoping -- Bran, I'm sorry. I'm an idiot."
"Yes, you are," Bran said, looking at him like everything had suddenly become clear. And, certainly, six years of waiting, six years of missing a friend, had. He reached up and cupped Will's cheek, moved closer, and now he was holding his breath. Their foreheads bumped together. Will seemed to have lost his voice, his mouth slightly open as if he'd like to speak, but no sound coming out. Bran grinned. "Come on, Stanton, hurry up and kiss me. You want to, don't you?"
"Yes," Will said, very quietly, like he was awed. He placed his hand on the back of Bran's neck, feeling the soft hair tickling his palm, and looked into Bran's eyes. "But..."
"Will," Bran said, warningly, and Will laughed, and threw caution to the winds, and kissed him.
Six years of waiting, six years of missing each other, and yet never being ready to forget it -- for both of them, then, it made a lot more sense. And Bran dared to think they might be happy.