TDIR: Pandora's Box
Fandom: The Dark is Rising
Main characters: Will, Bran
Referenced characters: Merriman
Pairing: Will/Bran
Contains: Sap
Rating: PG13
Summary: Will sometimes doubts if this is real.
Notes: Written for
cottoncandy_bingo, prompt "towel".
Will wakes up and for a moment he's confused, like always, because he's not alone and he should be. That's what he always expected. Five will return and one go alone... In one way, it was Merriman who went alone, but in another, it was meant to be Will, because he was the one who really went alone. The others all returned to the places they were meant to be, the lives they should have lived, but Will was meant to carry on the burden of knowing, the burden of watching.
But the Light couldn't change Bran's nature, even if they had wanted to. They can't even stop him from using all the hot water on a morning.
"Bran!" Will yells, in protest, when he realises.
"Your fault for getting up so late," Bran yells back, over the sound of the water. His Welsh accent is fading, after all these years. He'll never sound English, and he still slips into Welsh as quick as a thought, but the singsong music is fading. You can't live so long and never be touched by the world, after all. No matter how big the chip on your shoulder is.
"I need my sleep!"
"Of course you do, Old One," Bran says, and the lilt is there in the mocking tone. Will throws an arm over his eyes for a moment and groans, just to be dramatic, and then rolls out of the bed. He is an Old One, he doesn't really feel the cold that much, but the change of temperature makes him shiver anyway, naked as he is. Bran's opened the curtains already, but Will doesn't really care if someone gets an eyeful.
He's more concerned about the hot water.
Bran didn't lock the bathroom door this time, at least, and Will lets himself into the steamy bathroom with a grin. "I'll show you how old I am," he says, because he couldn't feel younger right now. He doesn't like to think of all the years that have gone by, touching them only lightly, and right now he feels like a teenager, like a boy, like the boy who first kissed Bran Davies and re-opened the Pandora's box of memory, unsure what would happen but ready to risk it. As old and wise as he is now -- even if his body doesn't show it -- he wouldn't make that choice again.
And he'd be an idiot.
Bran grins at him, yanking the shower curtain back. "C'mon then, sais-bach," he says, cheerful. He looks otherworldly even in a setting like this, even in a hotel bathroom, with his tawny eyes and bright hair. But his smile is a mocking thing, and all Bran. And he's swamped the bathroom again, and Will's towel is on the floor and in a puddle. That, as much as anything, convinces Will that this is real and that Bran isn't going to go away.
"I wish you wouldn't call me that," Will says. He gets into the shower gingerly, glad for the non-slip mat. "I'm not little anymore."
"Masculinity feeling threatened, is it?" Bran asks, and he's probably going to say something else, but Will has no time for that, even if they have all the time in all the worlds. He covers Bran's mouth with his own in a kiss, and holds him close.
"Bran," he says, softly, heart full.
"Cariad," Bran says, soft as well.
Will pulls back a little, smirks. "I'm having your towel when we get out."
This was originally posted here, on Dreamwidth. I would prefer people to comment and subscribe to me there, if you already have an account; I'll happily share Dreamwidth invites, if you want to make an account. Comments aren't disabled here on LJ, though.
Main characters: Will, Bran
Referenced characters: Merriman
Pairing: Will/Bran
Contains: Sap
Rating: PG13
Summary: Will sometimes doubts if this is real.
Notes: Written for
cottoncandy_bingo, prompt "towel".
Will wakes up and for a moment he's confused, like always, because he's not alone and he should be. That's what he always expected. Five will return and one go alone... In one way, it was Merriman who went alone, but in another, it was meant to be Will, because he was the one who really went alone. The others all returned to the places they were meant to be, the lives they should have lived, but Will was meant to carry on the burden of knowing, the burden of watching.
But the Light couldn't change Bran's nature, even if they had wanted to. They can't even stop him from using all the hot water on a morning.
"Bran!" Will yells, in protest, when he realises.
"Your fault for getting up so late," Bran yells back, over the sound of the water. His Welsh accent is fading, after all these years. He'll never sound English, and he still slips into Welsh as quick as a thought, but the singsong music is fading. You can't live so long and never be touched by the world, after all. No matter how big the chip on your shoulder is.
"I need my sleep!"
"Of course you do, Old One," Bran says, and the lilt is there in the mocking tone. Will throws an arm over his eyes for a moment and groans, just to be dramatic, and then rolls out of the bed. He is an Old One, he doesn't really feel the cold that much, but the change of temperature makes him shiver anyway, naked as he is. Bran's opened the curtains already, but Will doesn't really care if someone gets an eyeful.
He's more concerned about the hot water.
Bran didn't lock the bathroom door this time, at least, and Will lets himself into the steamy bathroom with a grin. "I'll show you how old I am," he says, because he couldn't feel younger right now. He doesn't like to think of all the years that have gone by, touching them only lightly, and right now he feels like a teenager, like a boy, like the boy who first kissed Bran Davies and re-opened the Pandora's box of memory, unsure what would happen but ready to risk it. As old and wise as he is now -- even if his body doesn't show it -- he wouldn't make that choice again.
And he'd be an idiot.
Bran grins at him, yanking the shower curtain back. "C'mon then, sais-bach," he says, cheerful. He looks otherworldly even in a setting like this, even in a hotel bathroom, with his tawny eyes and bright hair. But his smile is a mocking thing, and all Bran. And he's swamped the bathroom again, and Will's towel is on the floor and in a puddle. That, as much as anything, convinces Will that this is real and that Bran isn't going to go away.
"I wish you wouldn't call me that," Will says. He gets into the shower gingerly, glad for the non-slip mat. "I'm not little anymore."
"Masculinity feeling threatened, is it?" Bran asks, and he's probably going to say something else, but Will has no time for that, even if they have all the time in all the worlds. He covers Bran's mouth with his own in a kiss, and holds him close.
"Bran," he says, softly, heart full.
"Cariad," Bran says, soft as well.
Will pulls back a little, smirks. "I'm having your towel when we get out."
This was originally posted here, on Dreamwidth. I would prefer people to comment and subscribe to me there, if you already have an account; I'll happily share Dreamwidth invites, if you want to make an account. Comments aren't disabled here on LJ, though.