"Maybe I lost my direction, what if our love is the cost?"
Title: Damn Right I've Sold Out
Fandom: Robin Hood (BBC drama thingy)
Pairing: Allan A Dale/Guy of Gisborne
Challenge/Prompt: 30randomkisses, 021. Gold
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Slash
Copyright: Title taken from "Sunset Boulevard" by Andrew Lloyd Webber.
Summary: Allan is selling half their secrets to Sir Guy of Gisborne in exchange for his life, for gold, and for the chance to have Gisborne scowl at him.
Spoilers: Series two! (but this isn't the torture fic I was gonna write because... eh).
Author’s Notes: *facepalm* Uh... I had to. I couldn't help it. I amused myself in several lessons this week writing this. I'm not responsible for typos though, 'cause I can't feel my fingers right now. And I'm not going to feel like this is historically inaccurate because... have you seen the show? And also, has anyone noticed how Guy as UST with everyone? Is it the leather?
Allan finds that betraying all your friends and everything you ever stood for is actually not as hard as it’s cracked up to be.
To begin with, he’s anxious; worried Robin will know just by looking at him (he has judgemental eyes, he has such judgemental eyes) - but then no one finds out. No one even suspects, not even as the Sheriff’s men start doing sentry duty at just the right entrances, or soldiers burst into the houses they’re trying to rob (for whatever reason it is that Robin has found this week). No, the others just laugh at the narrow escape, drink too much beer, and clap each other on the back. Their inability to see that Allan is selling half their secrets to Sir Guy of Gisborne in exchange for his life, for gold, and for the chance to have Gisborne scowl at him (not that he’s thinking about the last reason - it’s too dangerous even to contemplate) is becoming irritating. In fact, what with their group being so wilfully naïve, there are times when Allan wonders just why they’re winning. They’re really not doing anything to help themselves.
He can’t pinpoint exactly when he begins to resent his friends. Allan doesn’t want to be caught out, because he can hardly throw himself on Gisborne begging for sanctuary, and there’s nowhere to go in England when the sodding outlaws won’t take you. Still, he hates them for their warm smiles and his forced inclusion in their caring, sharing, obsessed-with-justice gang (“We are Robin Hood!” But Allan isn’t, not any more - though he can hardly tell them that, can he?) Allan finds himself staring at Robin one night, a little drunk, half-blind from firelight, and thinks: how stupid can you be? I’m fucking you over and you don’t have the slightest idea, do you? Robin turns to him with a vague smile and Allan almost wants to tell him, just to make the suffocating waiting stop; but he’ll never be that foolish and so he drags up a smile from somewhere and turns back to watching the flames.
It’s becoming increasingly obvious that Djaq has chosen Will - either because she’s sensing the change in Allan and doesn’t like it, or because it was Will all along (which is probably the case - for a con artist, Allan has no manner of luck at all). Allan doesn’t care as much as he thought he would - or even should - and anyway he’s coming to the depressingly inevitable conclusion that Djaq is far less appealing now that she’s started growing her hair and acting more like a woman. She’s beautiful, yes - but Allan knows full well that he’s just using her to lie to himself (as ever). It’s not, and has never been, Djaq.
Much, Allan supposes, could probably be persuaded that he’s considerably more interested in men than women (Allan has always suspected, but it’s not really something that’s easy to slip into conversation), but then Much would probably be anxious and stammering and would also probably tell Robin immediately and all in all it’s a terrible idea. It’s true that living in forest doesn’t do wonders for anyone’s sex life - but Allan is not going to succumb to being in Robin Hood’s Merry Band Of Eunuchs without a bloody good fight.
After passing on that Robin is planning to attack the coach of the Sheriff’s latest visitor, so perhaps an alternative route might be better, Allan leaves his latest meeting with Gisborne with four gold coins, five new bruises, and a slightly worrying hard-on. He never did know what was good for him.
Gisborne is good-looking to a fault, though he wears too much leather and still smudges kohl around his eyes (like men in the Holy Land do; Robin told him once, a faraway, tired look on his face) as though he needs to deflect the sun in these criminally rain-filled English summers. And the law means far too much to him - or perhaps it means nothing at all (either way is bad, far too dangerous). He’s Marian’s previous lover, Robin’s sworn enemy, the Sheriff’s obedient servant. And he’s trapped Allan into playing a very complex game that will undoubtedly end in destruction for both of them. No, Gisborne is a terrible choice, a cockroach of a man. But they meet in small dark rooms, breathing each other’s air and talking in snarling whispers, often leaving Allan so crazy and wanting that he usually ends up crouched behind a tree with his hand down his trousers before he can return to their camp, with a smile that tries so hard not to involve gritted teeth.
Djaq doesn’t trust him. Allan thinks that she sees what the others don’t know to look for: the false laughter, the jingle of too much coin in his purse, the fresh bruises when they haven’t been in a good fight for weeks. She doesn’t know the truth - but her eyes narrow when she looks at him and she seriously could work it out. Then all hell will break loose and it’s really only a toss-up as to whether Robin or Gisborne kills him first. Of course, there is the happy possibility that they’ll both do it.
The chalk shakes and then snaps in his palm when Allan determinedly draws their symbol onto the wall. This is probably suicide but there is a small chance that it might not be and besides, Allan has seen something other than contempt in Gisborne’s eyes. It could just be another shade of sadism; but he doesn’t think it is. Marian walked away and Gisborne isn’t getting any either. It should be easy to blur the lines of their business partnership.
“Well?” Gisborne demands, face twisted into its perpetual scowl. They’re alone, trapped in the tiny back room of the local tavern, lit by two feeble candles. To all intents and purposes, this is a romantic tryst; but for the romance and the distinct lack of ‘tryst’.
“Robin’s consolidating,” Allan says casually, it’s almost true anyway, “Going to leave you lot to stew for a bit.”
The change from mild annoyance to anger happens so quick on Gisborne’s face that it’s almost impossible to see, and then Allan finds himself slammed against the wall.
“I thought I told you never to come to me with nothing again!” he snarls, hands clenched in Allan’s shirt, candlelight glinting in his furious eyes.
“This isn’t nothing,” Allan hisses back, leaning forward before Gisborne can react, and kissing him.
It’s too quick and clumsy and Gisborne pulls away almost instantly, and, for a second, Allan sees what Sir Guy of Gisborne looks like hopelessly disconcerted. Just for a moment. Then the flames are back in his eyes and Allan has the horrible, crushing realisation that he’s gone much too far. Really, it would be easy for Gisborne to shove a knife between his ribs, leave Allan to bleed to death, a robbery gone wrong, could happen to anyone. And it’s such a stupid reason to be killed.
“I-” he begins helplessly, words failing him, not really sure what it is he wants to ask for.
Then Gisborne’s mouth crashes back down on his, no preamble, no apology, no permission; the kiss is deep and angry and Allan can taste Gisborne’s contempt for him. Blind panic hits him, because this is not so much a stupid idea as a death wish. There is the smallest chance that Robin and the others could understand his first, desperate transgression. This is inexcusable, almost unbelievable, and a betrayal of the worst kind. There is no going back from this, no chance of redemption. He has to stop, now, while he still can, while there’s still a chance that he’ll get away with all this.
Allan grabs a handful of skin-warmed leather and holds on for dear life (he never did get the hang of self-preservation).
Gisborne answers with a low growl against his teeth that Allan feels all the way through his shaking body. Even if he weren’t trapped, Allan wouldn’t be able to escape. Not now.
Oh sweet Jesus, he thinks weakly, as Gisborne bites down on his lip enough to seriously hurt.
And then, mercifully, outside the door a couple of men get into an argument and the whole thing descends into a really noisy brawl. Gisborne pulls away, something in his eyes that isn’t anger but isn’t much better. Allan runs his tongue across his mouth and tastes blood.
“You’re right,” Gisborne says quietly, “This isn’t nothing.” Allan’s breath catches in his chest. “This is less than nothing.”
Allan knows then that he’s stuck. That this is going to happen again and again and again, and there is nothing he can do because he started it.
Gisborne pulls his cloak around him, about to walk out and put a stop to the fight by having everyone arrested and threatening various types of amputation (because that’s the way to deal with these things - good old justice system). He drops a couple of gold pieces on the floor and doesn’t look at Allan when he leaves.
Allan’s mouth his bleeding and he’s got bruises on his ribs and Robin is going to kill him when he finds out. And he wishes he had enough dignity to ignore Gisborne’s money.
He bends down and picks up the gold anyway.
Fandom: Robin Hood (BBC drama thingy)
Pairing: Allan A Dale/Guy of Gisborne
Challenge/Prompt: 30randomkisses, 021. Gold
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Slash
Copyright: Title taken from "Sunset Boulevard" by Andrew Lloyd Webber.
Summary: Allan is selling half their secrets to Sir Guy of Gisborne in exchange for his life, for gold, and for the chance to have Gisborne scowl at him.
Spoilers: Series two! (but this isn't the torture fic I was gonna write because... eh).
Author’s Notes: *facepalm* Uh... I had to. I couldn't help it. I amused myself in several lessons this week writing this. I'm not responsible for typos though, 'cause I can't feel my fingers right now. And I'm not going to feel like this is historically inaccurate because... have you seen the show? And also, has anyone noticed how Guy as UST with everyone? Is it the leather?
Allan finds that betraying all your friends and everything you ever stood for is actually not as hard as it’s cracked up to be.
To begin with, he’s anxious; worried Robin will know just by looking at him (he has judgemental eyes, he has such judgemental eyes) - but then no one finds out. No one even suspects, not even as the Sheriff’s men start doing sentry duty at just the right entrances, or soldiers burst into the houses they’re trying to rob (for whatever reason it is that Robin has found this week). No, the others just laugh at the narrow escape, drink too much beer, and clap each other on the back. Their inability to see that Allan is selling half their secrets to Sir Guy of Gisborne in exchange for his life, for gold, and for the chance to have Gisborne scowl at him (not that he’s thinking about the last reason - it’s too dangerous even to contemplate) is becoming irritating. In fact, what with their group being so wilfully naïve, there are times when Allan wonders just why they’re winning. They’re really not doing anything to help themselves.
He can’t pinpoint exactly when he begins to resent his friends. Allan doesn’t want to be caught out, because he can hardly throw himself on Gisborne begging for sanctuary, and there’s nowhere to go in England when the sodding outlaws won’t take you. Still, he hates them for their warm smiles and his forced inclusion in their caring, sharing, obsessed-with-justice gang (“We are Robin Hood!” But Allan isn’t, not any more - though he can hardly tell them that, can he?) Allan finds himself staring at Robin one night, a little drunk, half-blind from firelight, and thinks: how stupid can you be? I’m fucking you over and you don’t have the slightest idea, do you? Robin turns to him with a vague smile and Allan almost wants to tell him, just to make the suffocating waiting stop; but he’ll never be that foolish and so he drags up a smile from somewhere and turns back to watching the flames.
It’s becoming increasingly obvious that Djaq has chosen Will - either because she’s sensing the change in Allan and doesn’t like it, or because it was Will all along (which is probably the case - for a con artist, Allan has no manner of luck at all). Allan doesn’t care as much as he thought he would - or even should - and anyway he’s coming to the depressingly inevitable conclusion that Djaq is far less appealing now that she’s started growing her hair and acting more like a woman. She’s beautiful, yes - but Allan knows full well that he’s just using her to lie to himself (as ever). It’s not, and has never been, Djaq.
Much, Allan supposes, could probably be persuaded that he’s considerably more interested in men than women (Allan has always suspected, but it’s not really something that’s easy to slip into conversation), but then Much would probably be anxious and stammering and would also probably tell Robin immediately and all in all it’s a terrible idea. It’s true that living in forest doesn’t do wonders for anyone’s sex life - but Allan is not going to succumb to being in Robin Hood’s Merry Band Of Eunuchs without a bloody good fight.
After passing on that Robin is planning to attack the coach of the Sheriff’s latest visitor, so perhaps an alternative route might be better, Allan leaves his latest meeting with Gisborne with four gold coins, five new bruises, and a slightly worrying hard-on. He never did know what was good for him.
Gisborne is good-looking to a fault, though he wears too much leather and still smudges kohl around his eyes (like men in the Holy Land do; Robin told him once, a faraway, tired look on his face) as though he needs to deflect the sun in these criminally rain-filled English summers. And the law means far too much to him - or perhaps it means nothing at all (either way is bad, far too dangerous). He’s Marian’s previous lover, Robin’s sworn enemy, the Sheriff’s obedient servant. And he’s trapped Allan into playing a very complex game that will undoubtedly end in destruction for both of them. No, Gisborne is a terrible choice, a cockroach of a man. But they meet in small dark rooms, breathing each other’s air and talking in snarling whispers, often leaving Allan so crazy and wanting that he usually ends up crouched behind a tree with his hand down his trousers before he can return to their camp, with a smile that tries so hard not to involve gritted teeth.
Djaq doesn’t trust him. Allan thinks that she sees what the others don’t know to look for: the false laughter, the jingle of too much coin in his purse, the fresh bruises when they haven’t been in a good fight for weeks. She doesn’t know the truth - but her eyes narrow when she looks at him and she seriously could work it out. Then all hell will break loose and it’s really only a toss-up as to whether Robin or Gisborne kills him first. Of course, there is the happy possibility that they’ll both do it.
The chalk shakes and then snaps in his palm when Allan determinedly draws their symbol onto the wall. This is probably suicide but there is a small chance that it might not be and besides, Allan has seen something other than contempt in Gisborne’s eyes. It could just be another shade of sadism; but he doesn’t think it is. Marian walked away and Gisborne isn’t getting any either. It should be easy to blur the lines of their business partnership.
“Well?” Gisborne demands, face twisted into its perpetual scowl. They’re alone, trapped in the tiny back room of the local tavern, lit by two feeble candles. To all intents and purposes, this is a romantic tryst; but for the romance and the distinct lack of ‘tryst’.
“Robin’s consolidating,” Allan says casually, it’s almost true anyway, “Going to leave you lot to stew for a bit.”
The change from mild annoyance to anger happens so quick on Gisborne’s face that it’s almost impossible to see, and then Allan finds himself slammed against the wall.
“I thought I told you never to come to me with nothing again!” he snarls, hands clenched in Allan’s shirt, candlelight glinting in his furious eyes.
“This isn’t nothing,” Allan hisses back, leaning forward before Gisborne can react, and kissing him.
It’s too quick and clumsy and Gisborne pulls away almost instantly, and, for a second, Allan sees what Sir Guy of Gisborne looks like hopelessly disconcerted. Just for a moment. Then the flames are back in his eyes and Allan has the horrible, crushing realisation that he’s gone much too far. Really, it would be easy for Gisborne to shove a knife between his ribs, leave Allan to bleed to death, a robbery gone wrong, could happen to anyone. And it’s such a stupid reason to be killed.
“I-” he begins helplessly, words failing him, not really sure what it is he wants to ask for.
Then Gisborne’s mouth crashes back down on his, no preamble, no apology, no permission; the kiss is deep and angry and Allan can taste Gisborne’s contempt for him. Blind panic hits him, because this is not so much a stupid idea as a death wish. There is the smallest chance that Robin and the others could understand his first, desperate transgression. This is inexcusable, almost unbelievable, and a betrayal of the worst kind. There is no going back from this, no chance of redemption. He has to stop, now, while he still can, while there’s still a chance that he’ll get away with all this.
Allan grabs a handful of skin-warmed leather and holds on for dear life (he never did get the hang of self-preservation).
Gisborne answers with a low growl against his teeth that Allan feels all the way through his shaking body. Even if he weren’t trapped, Allan wouldn’t be able to escape. Not now.
Oh sweet Jesus, he thinks weakly, as Gisborne bites down on his lip enough to seriously hurt.
And then, mercifully, outside the door a couple of men get into an argument and the whole thing descends into a really noisy brawl. Gisborne pulls away, something in his eyes that isn’t anger but isn’t much better. Allan runs his tongue across his mouth and tastes blood.
“You’re right,” Gisborne says quietly, “This isn’t nothing.” Allan’s breath catches in his chest. “This is less than nothing.”
Allan knows then that he’s stuck. That this is going to happen again and again and again, and there is nothing he can do because he started it.
Gisborne pulls his cloak around him, about to walk out and put a stop to the fight by having everyone arrested and threatening various types of amputation (because that’s the way to deal with these things - good old justice system). He drops a couple of gold pieces on the floor and doesn’t look at Allan when he leaves.
Allan’s mouth his bleeding and he’s got bruises on his ribs and Robin is going to kill him when he finds out. And he wishes he had enough dignity to ignore Gisborne’s money.
He bends down and picks up the gold anyway.