Full Fathom Five
Title: Full Fathom Five
Pairing: Josef/Mick, some Mick/Beth
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: How will Mick respond, when he finds out Josef must leave L.A for good?
posted to moonlight_slash
_______________________________
Beth stifled a yawn, and shifted position, trying not to make her growing disinterest too apparent. They’d been talking for hours it seemed, the same topic over, and over, only the words chosen to describe it had changed.
Mick had spent the day with Josef. Josef had said this, Josef had done that; Josef had flown a round trip to the moon. At some point Beth had started making up her own flights of fancy where Josef was concerned. It was either that or fall asleep with her fourth cup of coffee spilling down the front of her blouse.
“So anyway, after all that…”
Finally, Beth had had enough. Placing a hand on Mick’s arm, she halted him mid-sentence.
“Mick, I know he’s your best friend, but could we please talk about something else for a while.”
Despite her best efforts, Beth found it difficult to keep the exasperated tone from her voice. Her words came out sounding more like a cry of frustration, rather than the casual request she had been aiming for.
If Mick had noticed Beth’s demeanour, he wasn’t letting on. He stammered out a hurried apology, quickly affected a suitably contrite look, and offered to change the subject.
“What did you want to talk about? How was your day?”
“Oh, the usual,” Beth smiled at Mick’s consideration, and took a moment to make a mental note that she really would have to try to be a little more considerate when it came to Josef. There weren’t too many Vampires in L.A Mick trusted after all. Come to think of it there weren’t too many humans he trusted either. Both she and Josef were part of an honoured elite.
“I take it the new boss is still giving you grief then?” Setting aside his own thoughts for the moment, Mick focused his attention on Beth.
“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Beth looked relieved at the opportunity to finally unload. “First he expects a deadline of 5 pm, and then…”
Beth found her relief short lived. The shrill, insistent sound of the telephone cut through her conversation.
“That was…” Mick stopped short of saying Josef’s name, merely stood, and looked sheepishly apologetic.
“Don’t tell me, let me guess.” Beth raised a smug smile, taking a moment to stretch her fingers, and then clench them into a loosely held fist.
“I’m sorry, it sounded urgent. I have to…” Mick shifted nervously from one foot to the other, and glanced toward the door. “I’m really sorry, I’ll make it up to you. Hey, maybe we could…”
“…Go.” Forcing an understanding smile, Beth opened, clenched her fists one more time, and then waved Mick off. “Just go, Mick. It’s ok, Josef needs you.”
Watching after Mick’s retreating form, Beth waited until he was out of sight, and then picked up a cushion from the couch.
And screamed her frustration into it’s corduroy padded depths.
“Are you going somewhere?” Mick glanced around at the whirlwind of activity that surrounded him, and arched a bemused eyebrow, his teeth working distractedly over the pad of this thumb.
Josef took a moment to adjust the sleeves of his shirt, and then walked over to a French Armoire that stood waiting to be packed. Opening one of its drawers, he drew out a folded newspaper, and handed it to Mick.
“Read the headline.”
“Vampires do exist.” Mick read aloud, eyes scanning across the page. “Hedge Fund Trader, Josef Kostan, seen here in this photo with celebrity starlet…” he had read enough, folding the paper back in half Mick cast it dismissively aside. “It’s the Weekly World News, Josef. Alien conspiracy theories, and who killed JFK. Nobody sane believes it.”
“And what about the not so sane, Mick?” Josef took a moment to scrub at an imaginary spot on the floor with his shoe. And then he was looking up, and holding Mick’s gaze steady with his own. “You know I can’t take that risk.”
“You’re leaving?” Mick placed his hands on top of his head, and took a moment to let the weight of realization sink in. “Christ, Josef. How long have you known about this?”
“About a week.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me any sooner.” Mick snorted a note of disgust, “Great.”
“Come on. You know me, Mick. I never was one for tortured goodbyes.” Waving a dismissive hand, Josef tried to make light of the situation. And then he was shifting toward where Mick stood; a nudge of Mick’s arm designed to signal some sort of camaraderie between them. “Besides, it’s time to take the training fangs out boy-o, live a little, figure out how to make babies with Beth, or have fun trying.”
“Easy come, easy go. Is it that?”
Mick was challenging Josef point blank then. Hands on hips, and chin jutted forth. In an instant the mood in the room changed. Josef snapped his fingers, and issued a singular command to those milling around them.
“Leave us.” Waiting for his entourage to disperse, Josef took another step closer, moving into Mick’s space. A hand on the back of Mick’s neck drawing him near, Josef’s forehead rested against Mick’s own. “Don’t you dare presume this is easy for me,” Josef’s fingers gripped tight, digging into the base of Mick’s skull. “You know how I feel about you, Mick. You’ve always known. So don’t you dare.”
Mick wasn’t given time to respond. Once more they were shifting gears. Josef released his hold on Mick’s neck, and took a step back, adjusting the sleeves of his shirt with business like precision as he cleared his throat, and spoke again. “I need you to do something for me.”
“Like what?” Mick felt the will to fight drain out of him, denial or acceptance? For a moment he wasn’t sure. Josef’s words echoed in his mind.
You know how I feel about you, Mick. You’ve always known.
No, not acceptance, never acceptance, deep down Mick knew he felt the same.
Full Fathom Five…
“I need you to access the bank accounts I set up in your name.” Josef’s voice drew Mick back to the present time. He listened as Josef began issuing a complicated set of instructions. A money trail carefully designed to be hidden, and then disappear. Once Josef was gone, no trace of him as Josef Kostan would remain.
And then Mick found himself being summarily dismissed, Josef affecting a callous tone, cold and unfeeling. And that might have been a convincing act, if it weren’t for the crack in Josef’s voice, and the way his hands shook, even as he shoved them in his pockets, and tried to convince himself he was only doing this for Mick’s own good.
“How was…?” Beth’s words were halted by a thunder faced Mick pushing past her. Moments later she heard the door of his office gym room slam shut, and then the sharp crack of fists beaten furiously against leather.
Hours later, and the noise had died down, the apartment silent now. Beth approached the door of the room where Mick sat, and tentatively knocked against its wooden surface.
“Can I come in?”
Pushing the door open a crack, Beth peered in; saw Mick seated on the floor, his legs outstretched, back against the far-side wall, shoulders slumped. Watched as he beat out a steady rhythm with his skull thud thudding against the bricks and mortar behind, watched as he matched that same rhythm with balled fists hitting against the polished wooden floor beneath.
“Did something happen with Josef?” Beth entered the room, and sat down beside Mick then. Her hand rested in his lap.
“Josef’s leaving L.A, for good.” Mick squeezed Beth’s hand in his own, and gradually stilled. “People know he’s a Vampire, he’s being forced to disappear.”
“Oh Mick, I’m so sorry.” Beth couldn’t think of what else to say. For the longest while there was silence between them, Beth’s fingers still gripping tight with Mick’s own. “You love him, don’t you?”
“No.”
Beth might have believed Mick then, except his ‘o’ was a little too drawn out, and the roll of his eyes just a little too exaggerated.
“You can squash it down, and pretend it doesn’t exist all you want, Mick,” Beth’s mind had begun to process her realisation, “but no matter how deep you try and hide it, it will always be there.”
“Full Fathom Five.” Mick muttered, half to himself.
“The Tempest?” Sitting back a moment, Beth regarded Mick with a curious expression, wondering where he was going with the analogy.
“You were talking about the lengths I’ve gone to suppress my feelings.” Mick replied, and then took a moment to take stock of the fact that this was the closest he had ever come to admitting those feelings.
And then the floodgates were opening, and Mick was sharing a lifetime of memories. Josef had taken him to see a production of The Tempest at the New York Metropolitan Theatre, shortly after they had met. He had spent the entire performance decrying the loss of artistry compared to days gone by, and lauding the performances of Sir Henry Irving, and his ilk. At the start of the night, Mick had thought Josef a pompous ass. By the end, Josef had managed to utterly captivate him.
“He does have that effect on people.”
Mick heard Beth’s tinkle of laughter, and still the memories kept on coming. Josef and he seated together in a Parisienne café. Mick dressed in the beatnik stylings of the time, regaling Josef with stories written by Jack Kerouac. Whilst Josef sipped Whiskeyfied blood, and rolled his eyes with world-weary impatience.
“Jack Kerouac? Sometimes I forget just how wide read you are.” Beth tapped a thoughtful finger against Mick’s temple; “You’re as old as he is in there sometimes.”
“Maybe.” Mick looked thoughtful for a moment, and then found himself staring with wide-eyed surprise at Beth’s follow up words.
“You should be with him, Mick.”
“What about us?” Mick couldn’t believe what he was hearing, nor the way Beth had spoken with such quiet determination.
“There is no ‘us’, Mick.” Beth replied simply. “There never really has been. I know that now. You, and me were just a beautiful fantasy.”
It couldn’t be that simple, only it was. Hours prior Beth had been screaming into corduroy cushions, now she was accepting the end of their relationship as if it were the most natural progression in the world. No hard feelings, Mick. Now go be with the one you love.
“Thank you.” Mick drew Beth close, and kissed the top of her forehead, his fingers tangling gently through her long, blond tresses.
They said their goodbyes in the silence that followed. Dawn the next day, Mick quietly tip toed away from a still slumbering Beth, packed a leather duffel bag with clothes, and then scrawled a quick note, which he left on the Kitchen counter, along with the keys to his apartment. The apartment was Beth’s now, to do with as she wished. It was his gift to her. The least he could do.
The last person Josef expected to see standing by his car when he came downstairs at 7.am, was Mick St John; with a stupid grin plastered all over his face. “What are you doing here?” He asked, and raised a bemused eyebrow.
“I’m coming with you.” Mick shrugged, grinned some more, and then tossed his bag into the back seat.
“Like hell you are.” For a moment Josef was caught uncharacteristically off-guard. “Your life is here, with Beth.”
“No.” Mick shook his head, and held his gaze determined with Josef’s own, “My life is with you. It always has been.”
“Shouldn’t you have bought an accompanying Violin player?” Josef parried a quick-witted response, and then tossed his chin in Mick’s direction, issuing Mick with a challenge. “Alright then, if you’re serious? Kiss me.”
In an instant Mick covered the distance between them, and vacuum sealed his mouth against Josef’s own.
“Christ.” Moments later Josef came up pretending to struggle for unneeded air. “I said kiss me, not try and hoover my damn lips off. Who the hell taught you how to kiss, anyway?”
“Betsy Fornington, in the fifth grade.”
“With a name like that, I’m not surprised.” Josef rolled his eyes with mock contempt, and then opened the passenger side door. “Get in.”
Mick climbed in, as Josef went round to the driver’s side door, and did the same. Still denigrating Mick for his lack of kissing prowess as he went.
“I need to take you shopping for a new wardrobe as well. Something a little less in the range of Henleys.”
“Yes dear.” Mick stifled a laugh, and pretended to look very studious.
“Oh shut up.” Josef gunned the engine, and threw the car into gear.
“So where are we headed then?”
“Well the Airport might be a start, Mick,” Josef pointed the car Northbound. “Unless you know of an easier way to fly to Montreal.”
“Montreal?”
“I’m sorry, is that not suitable for a man of your cosmopolitan tastes?” Josef replied with lashings of trademark sarcasm.
“Josef?” Mick felt Josef’s hand slip into his.
“What, Mick?”
“Just drive.”
Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes;
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Pairing: Josef/Mick, some Mick/Beth
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: How will Mick respond, when he finds out Josef must leave L.A for good?
posted to moonlight_slash
_______________________________
Beth stifled a yawn, and shifted position, trying not to make her growing disinterest too apparent. They’d been talking for hours it seemed, the same topic over, and over, only the words chosen to describe it had changed.
Mick had spent the day with Josef. Josef had said this, Josef had done that; Josef had flown a round trip to the moon. At some point Beth had started making up her own flights of fancy where Josef was concerned. It was either that or fall asleep with her fourth cup of coffee spilling down the front of her blouse.
“So anyway, after all that…”
Finally, Beth had had enough. Placing a hand on Mick’s arm, she halted him mid-sentence.
“Mick, I know he’s your best friend, but could we please talk about something else for a while.”
Despite her best efforts, Beth found it difficult to keep the exasperated tone from her voice. Her words came out sounding more like a cry of frustration, rather than the casual request she had been aiming for.
If Mick had noticed Beth’s demeanour, he wasn’t letting on. He stammered out a hurried apology, quickly affected a suitably contrite look, and offered to change the subject.
“What did you want to talk about? How was your day?”
“Oh, the usual,” Beth smiled at Mick’s consideration, and took a moment to make a mental note that she really would have to try to be a little more considerate when it came to Josef. There weren’t too many Vampires in L.A Mick trusted after all. Come to think of it there weren’t too many humans he trusted either. Both she and Josef were part of an honoured elite.
“I take it the new boss is still giving you grief then?” Setting aside his own thoughts for the moment, Mick focused his attention on Beth.
“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Beth looked relieved at the opportunity to finally unload. “First he expects a deadline of 5 pm, and then…”
Beth found her relief short lived. The shrill, insistent sound of the telephone cut through her conversation.
“That was…” Mick stopped short of saying Josef’s name, merely stood, and looked sheepishly apologetic.
“Don’t tell me, let me guess.” Beth raised a smug smile, taking a moment to stretch her fingers, and then clench them into a loosely held fist.
“I’m sorry, it sounded urgent. I have to…” Mick shifted nervously from one foot to the other, and glanced toward the door. “I’m really sorry, I’ll make it up to you. Hey, maybe we could…”
“…Go.” Forcing an understanding smile, Beth opened, clenched her fists one more time, and then waved Mick off. “Just go, Mick. It’s ok, Josef needs you.”
Watching after Mick’s retreating form, Beth waited until he was out of sight, and then picked up a cushion from the couch.
And screamed her frustration into it’s corduroy padded depths.
“Are you going somewhere?” Mick glanced around at the whirlwind of activity that surrounded him, and arched a bemused eyebrow, his teeth working distractedly over the pad of this thumb.
Josef took a moment to adjust the sleeves of his shirt, and then walked over to a French Armoire that stood waiting to be packed. Opening one of its drawers, he drew out a folded newspaper, and handed it to Mick.
“Read the headline.”
“Vampires do exist.” Mick read aloud, eyes scanning across the page. “Hedge Fund Trader, Josef Kostan, seen here in this photo with celebrity starlet…” he had read enough, folding the paper back in half Mick cast it dismissively aside. “It’s the Weekly World News, Josef. Alien conspiracy theories, and who killed JFK. Nobody sane believes it.”
“And what about the not so sane, Mick?” Josef took a moment to scrub at an imaginary spot on the floor with his shoe. And then he was looking up, and holding Mick’s gaze steady with his own. “You know I can’t take that risk.”
“You’re leaving?” Mick placed his hands on top of his head, and took a moment to let the weight of realization sink in. “Christ, Josef. How long have you known about this?”
“About a week.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me any sooner.” Mick snorted a note of disgust, “Great.”
“Come on. You know me, Mick. I never was one for tortured goodbyes.” Waving a dismissive hand, Josef tried to make light of the situation. And then he was shifting toward where Mick stood; a nudge of Mick’s arm designed to signal some sort of camaraderie between them. “Besides, it’s time to take the training fangs out boy-o, live a little, figure out how to make babies with Beth, or have fun trying.”
“Easy come, easy go. Is it that?”
Mick was challenging Josef point blank then. Hands on hips, and chin jutted forth. In an instant the mood in the room changed. Josef snapped his fingers, and issued a singular command to those milling around them.
“Leave us.” Waiting for his entourage to disperse, Josef took another step closer, moving into Mick’s space. A hand on the back of Mick’s neck drawing him near, Josef’s forehead rested against Mick’s own. “Don’t you dare presume this is easy for me,” Josef’s fingers gripped tight, digging into the base of Mick’s skull. “You know how I feel about you, Mick. You’ve always known. So don’t you dare.”
Mick wasn’t given time to respond. Once more they were shifting gears. Josef released his hold on Mick’s neck, and took a step back, adjusting the sleeves of his shirt with business like precision as he cleared his throat, and spoke again. “I need you to do something for me.”
“Like what?” Mick felt the will to fight drain out of him, denial or acceptance? For a moment he wasn’t sure. Josef’s words echoed in his mind.
You know how I feel about you, Mick. You’ve always known.
No, not acceptance, never acceptance, deep down Mick knew he felt the same.
Full Fathom Five…
“I need you to access the bank accounts I set up in your name.” Josef’s voice drew Mick back to the present time. He listened as Josef began issuing a complicated set of instructions. A money trail carefully designed to be hidden, and then disappear. Once Josef was gone, no trace of him as Josef Kostan would remain.
And then Mick found himself being summarily dismissed, Josef affecting a callous tone, cold and unfeeling. And that might have been a convincing act, if it weren’t for the crack in Josef’s voice, and the way his hands shook, even as he shoved them in his pockets, and tried to convince himself he was only doing this for Mick’s own good.
“How was…?” Beth’s words were halted by a thunder faced Mick pushing past her. Moments later she heard the door of his office gym room slam shut, and then the sharp crack of fists beaten furiously against leather.
Hours later, and the noise had died down, the apartment silent now. Beth approached the door of the room where Mick sat, and tentatively knocked against its wooden surface.
“Can I come in?”
Pushing the door open a crack, Beth peered in; saw Mick seated on the floor, his legs outstretched, back against the far-side wall, shoulders slumped. Watched as he beat out a steady rhythm with his skull thud thudding against the bricks and mortar behind, watched as he matched that same rhythm with balled fists hitting against the polished wooden floor beneath.
“Did something happen with Josef?” Beth entered the room, and sat down beside Mick then. Her hand rested in his lap.
“Josef’s leaving L.A, for good.” Mick squeezed Beth’s hand in his own, and gradually stilled. “People know he’s a Vampire, he’s being forced to disappear.”
“Oh Mick, I’m so sorry.” Beth couldn’t think of what else to say. For the longest while there was silence between them, Beth’s fingers still gripping tight with Mick’s own. “You love him, don’t you?”
“No.”
Beth might have believed Mick then, except his ‘o’ was a little too drawn out, and the roll of his eyes just a little too exaggerated.
“You can squash it down, and pretend it doesn’t exist all you want, Mick,” Beth’s mind had begun to process her realisation, “but no matter how deep you try and hide it, it will always be there.”
“Full Fathom Five.” Mick muttered, half to himself.
“The Tempest?” Sitting back a moment, Beth regarded Mick with a curious expression, wondering where he was going with the analogy.
“You were talking about the lengths I’ve gone to suppress my feelings.” Mick replied, and then took a moment to take stock of the fact that this was the closest he had ever come to admitting those feelings.
And then the floodgates were opening, and Mick was sharing a lifetime of memories. Josef had taken him to see a production of The Tempest at the New York Metropolitan Theatre, shortly after they had met. He had spent the entire performance decrying the loss of artistry compared to days gone by, and lauding the performances of Sir Henry Irving, and his ilk. At the start of the night, Mick had thought Josef a pompous ass. By the end, Josef had managed to utterly captivate him.
“He does have that effect on people.”
Mick heard Beth’s tinkle of laughter, and still the memories kept on coming. Josef and he seated together in a Parisienne café. Mick dressed in the beatnik stylings of the time, regaling Josef with stories written by Jack Kerouac. Whilst Josef sipped Whiskeyfied blood, and rolled his eyes with world-weary impatience.
“Jack Kerouac? Sometimes I forget just how wide read you are.” Beth tapped a thoughtful finger against Mick’s temple; “You’re as old as he is in there sometimes.”
“Maybe.” Mick looked thoughtful for a moment, and then found himself staring with wide-eyed surprise at Beth’s follow up words.
“You should be with him, Mick.”
“What about us?” Mick couldn’t believe what he was hearing, nor the way Beth had spoken with such quiet determination.
“There is no ‘us’, Mick.” Beth replied simply. “There never really has been. I know that now. You, and me were just a beautiful fantasy.”
It couldn’t be that simple, only it was. Hours prior Beth had been screaming into corduroy cushions, now she was accepting the end of their relationship as if it were the most natural progression in the world. No hard feelings, Mick. Now go be with the one you love.
“Thank you.” Mick drew Beth close, and kissed the top of her forehead, his fingers tangling gently through her long, blond tresses.
They said their goodbyes in the silence that followed. Dawn the next day, Mick quietly tip toed away from a still slumbering Beth, packed a leather duffel bag with clothes, and then scrawled a quick note, which he left on the Kitchen counter, along with the keys to his apartment. The apartment was Beth’s now, to do with as she wished. It was his gift to her. The least he could do.
The last person Josef expected to see standing by his car when he came downstairs at 7.am, was Mick St John; with a stupid grin plastered all over his face. “What are you doing here?” He asked, and raised a bemused eyebrow.
“I’m coming with you.” Mick shrugged, grinned some more, and then tossed his bag into the back seat.
“Like hell you are.” For a moment Josef was caught uncharacteristically off-guard. “Your life is here, with Beth.”
“No.” Mick shook his head, and held his gaze determined with Josef’s own, “My life is with you. It always has been.”
“Shouldn’t you have bought an accompanying Violin player?” Josef parried a quick-witted response, and then tossed his chin in Mick’s direction, issuing Mick with a challenge. “Alright then, if you’re serious? Kiss me.”
In an instant Mick covered the distance between them, and vacuum sealed his mouth against Josef’s own.
“Christ.” Moments later Josef came up pretending to struggle for unneeded air. “I said kiss me, not try and hoover my damn lips off. Who the hell taught you how to kiss, anyway?”
“Betsy Fornington, in the fifth grade.”
“With a name like that, I’m not surprised.” Josef rolled his eyes with mock contempt, and then opened the passenger side door. “Get in.”
Mick climbed in, as Josef went round to the driver’s side door, and did the same. Still denigrating Mick for his lack of kissing prowess as he went.
“I need to take you shopping for a new wardrobe as well. Something a little less in the range of Henleys.”
“Yes dear.” Mick stifled a laugh, and pretended to look very studious.
“Oh shut up.” Josef gunned the engine, and threw the car into gear.
“So where are we headed then?”
“Well the Airport might be a start, Mick,” Josef pointed the car Northbound. “Unless you know of an easier way to fly to Montreal.”
“Montreal?”
“I’m sorry, is that not suitable for a man of your cosmopolitan tastes?” Josef replied with lashings of trademark sarcasm.
“Josef?” Mick felt Josef’s hand slip into his.
“What, Mick?”
“Just drive.”
Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes;
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.