Setting a Trap
Author: mideltone_one
Title: Setting a Trap
Words: 1048
Genre: Slash
Rating: PG
Disclaimer:The Robin Hood characters written about here belong to Tiger Aspect and the British Broadcasting Corporation. All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement is intended nor is any money being made. I don't own them - if I did I'd be too busy drooling to write! All mistakes are mine.
Summary: Snow brings its own problems.
Warnings: None.
Characters/Pairings: Allan/Will, Much
Snow was very much a double edged sword for a band of outlaws. On the one hand it made tracking rich merchants and soldiers easy; on the other it made being tracked just as simple. And what would seem more suspicious than a set of tracks which suddenly vanished into thin air? Any leader worth his salt, and that definitely included Gisborne, would be led straight to the camp.
From Allan's point of view you'd have to be mad to go out on a day like this, which probably explained why Robin had taken the majority of the gang out. Only he and Will had been left at camp, one to work on new weapons, the other to tend to the cooking. At any other time of year, Allan would have been insulted being forced to stay behind while the gang was out on a raid. Today though the possibility of keeping one's feet dry, or nearly dry, overrode any feelings of annoyance. The furthest he'd had to walk so far had been down to the river to get more water. It had taken a lot longer than usual, mainly because he'd had to sweep away any trace of footprints both ways. As he got closer to the camp again he noticed a set of prints in the snow leading up to the fire and back again. Wondering if he was about to be ambushed, he quietly lowered the bucket of water and retreated a few steps, making sure he wiped away any evidence as he went.
Once around the perimeter of the camp and he was certain there was nobody waiting to pounce. Picking up the bucket again he made his way back to the fire. The hearth was close enough to the covered area of the camp to allow Allan to keep an eye on it and the main approach to the camp whilst staying under cover and dry. He was pleased to see a fresh sprinkling of snow falling from the grey sky; if this kept up any tracks would be quickly buried.
Movement from the trees on the far side of the valley put him on edge for a moment, before he recognised Much's cap. What on earth was he doing back so soon? Allan wondered if this was about the food. Was the cooking so important to Much that he didn't trust it to be left to anyone else? Or was it that he didn't trust Allan with it?
As he drew closer, Allan called out to him. "Oi, Much, what are you doin' back 'ere? Worried about the stew, are we?" He glanced behind his companion, noticing that the fresh footprints had already virtually vanished. When he looked up again, he noticed he was being stared at. Much looked as if he was in fear of his life.
"I just came back to get some gold for the people" he said, "I don't have time for any of your silly games. If you just let me pass, I'll be on my way."
Allan was utterly bemused by this; he had no idea what "games" Much was talking about, so he stepped to one side and waved the manservant past him.
Nobody had ever seen Much move as fast as he did dodging past his fellow outlaw. Allan called after him as he made his way back out, but there was no response. Scratching his head he sat back down; what on earth had he done to upset Much like that? He had no idea, but he’d have to do something about it when the gang got back later, or it would just fester and make things worse.
Another movement in the trees caught his attention. For a moment he wondered if Much had come back, but after a moment’s observation he realised it was Will. The boy was carrying some long pieces of thin timber, with his tools balanced precariously on top. The snow wasn’t helping his progress either. Just on the edge of the camp itself he slipped, sending tools and timber flying up in the air. "Need an ‘and, mate?" called Allan, hoping his friend wasn’t hurt.
A snow covered head rose from the pristine white surface. "Please."
Allan ran over and within minutes they were transporting tools and timber into the safety of the camp. Once back under cover he brushed himself down, while the young carpenter put the tools back where they belonged. Hearing a quiet cough from behind him he turned, and was surprised to find Will standing right next to him.
His surprise didn’t last long, as moments later it was replaced by a much bigger surprise. Without saying a word, Will lent in and planted a kiss on his lips. His head didn’t know what to make of this, but his body did. Opening his mouth he allowed his friend’s tongue to slide inside, and begin a sensual dance with his own. Time slowed down as the two of them stayed locked together for what felt like an eternity. Needing to breath, and regretting that need immensely, he broke the kiss.
The smile on Will’s face turned into a broad grin, in response to Allan’s look of disbelief. How had the boy known what he wanted; what he had wanted for months but had been too afraid to ask for? He tried to ask a question, but his powers of speech seemed to evade him. "Wha ... how ... why ..." In reply, Will pointed upwards. Following the direction indicated things became slightly clearer. Pinned to one of the cross beams that held up the roof was a sprig of mistletoe. Suddenly it became clear why Much had behaved so oddly. He must have thought he was under threat of attack by lips as he passed by.
"Just because we’re outlaws, it doesn’t mean we have to leave all the traditions behind," said Will, "like kissing somebody you fancy under the mistletoe."
"Fancy me do you?" asked Allan, filling with pride at the words from his new found love interest.
"What do you think?" replied Will, weaving his arm around his companion's waist.
"I think we should take down the mistletoe," said Allan, "'cos if John stands under it you're gonna need a ladder before you kiss him."
Title: Setting a Trap
Words: 1048
Genre: Slash
Rating: PG
Disclaimer:The Robin Hood characters written about here belong to Tiger Aspect and the British Broadcasting Corporation. All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement is intended nor is any money being made. I don't own them - if I did I'd be too busy drooling to write! All mistakes are mine.
Summary: Snow brings its own problems.
Warnings: None.
Characters/Pairings: Allan/Will, Much
Snow was very much a double edged sword for a band of outlaws. On the one hand it made tracking rich merchants and soldiers easy; on the other it made being tracked just as simple. And what would seem more suspicious than a set of tracks which suddenly vanished into thin air? Any leader worth his salt, and that definitely included Gisborne, would be led straight to the camp.
From Allan's point of view you'd have to be mad to go out on a day like this, which probably explained why Robin had taken the majority of the gang out. Only he and Will had been left at camp, one to work on new weapons, the other to tend to the cooking. At any other time of year, Allan would have been insulted being forced to stay behind while the gang was out on a raid. Today though the possibility of keeping one's feet dry, or nearly dry, overrode any feelings of annoyance. The furthest he'd had to walk so far had been down to the river to get more water. It had taken a lot longer than usual, mainly because he'd had to sweep away any trace of footprints both ways. As he got closer to the camp again he noticed a set of prints in the snow leading up to the fire and back again. Wondering if he was about to be ambushed, he quietly lowered the bucket of water and retreated a few steps, making sure he wiped away any evidence as he went.
Once around the perimeter of the camp and he was certain there was nobody waiting to pounce. Picking up the bucket again he made his way back to the fire. The hearth was close enough to the covered area of the camp to allow Allan to keep an eye on it and the main approach to the camp whilst staying under cover and dry. He was pleased to see a fresh sprinkling of snow falling from the grey sky; if this kept up any tracks would be quickly buried.
Movement from the trees on the far side of the valley put him on edge for a moment, before he recognised Much's cap. What on earth was he doing back so soon? Allan wondered if this was about the food. Was the cooking so important to Much that he didn't trust it to be left to anyone else? Or was it that he didn't trust Allan with it?
As he drew closer, Allan called out to him. "Oi, Much, what are you doin' back 'ere? Worried about the stew, are we?" He glanced behind his companion, noticing that the fresh footprints had already virtually vanished. When he looked up again, he noticed he was being stared at. Much looked as if he was in fear of his life.
"I just came back to get some gold for the people" he said, "I don't have time for any of your silly games. If you just let me pass, I'll be on my way."
Allan was utterly bemused by this; he had no idea what "games" Much was talking about, so he stepped to one side and waved the manservant past him.
Nobody had ever seen Much move as fast as he did dodging past his fellow outlaw. Allan called after him as he made his way back out, but there was no response. Scratching his head he sat back down; what on earth had he done to upset Much like that? He had no idea, but he’d have to do something about it when the gang got back later, or it would just fester and make things worse.
Another movement in the trees caught his attention. For a moment he wondered if Much had come back, but after a moment’s observation he realised it was Will. The boy was carrying some long pieces of thin timber, with his tools balanced precariously on top. The snow wasn’t helping his progress either. Just on the edge of the camp itself he slipped, sending tools and timber flying up in the air. "Need an ‘and, mate?" called Allan, hoping his friend wasn’t hurt.
A snow covered head rose from the pristine white surface. "Please."
Allan ran over and within minutes they were transporting tools and timber into the safety of the camp. Once back under cover he brushed himself down, while the young carpenter put the tools back where they belonged. Hearing a quiet cough from behind him he turned, and was surprised to find Will standing right next to him.
His surprise didn’t last long, as moments later it was replaced by a much bigger surprise. Without saying a word, Will lent in and planted a kiss on his lips. His head didn’t know what to make of this, but his body did. Opening his mouth he allowed his friend’s tongue to slide inside, and begin a sensual dance with his own. Time slowed down as the two of them stayed locked together for what felt like an eternity. Needing to breath, and regretting that need immensely, he broke the kiss.
The smile on Will’s face turned into a broad grin, in response to Allan’s look of disbelief. How had the boy known what he wanted; what he had wanted for months but had been too afraid to ask for? He tried to ask a question, but his powers of speech seemed to evade him. "Wha ... how ... why ..." In reply, Will pointed upwards. Following the direction indicated things became slightly clearer. Pinned to one of the cross beams that held up the roof was a sprig of mistletoe. Suddenly it became clear why Much had behaved so oddly. He must have thought he was under threat of attack by lips as he passed by.
"Just because we’re outlaws, it doesn’t mean we have to leave all the traditions behind," said Will, "like kissing somebody you fancy under the mistletoe."
"Fancy me do you?" asked Allan, filling with pride at the words from his new found love interest.
"What do you think?" replied Will, weaving his arm around his companion's waist.
"I think we should take down the mistletoe," said Allan, "'cos if John stands under it you're gonna need a ladder before you kiss him."