Fic: while we have oceans (Blade: Trinity, Abigail/King, PG13)
Title: while we have oceans
Author: alyse
Fandom: Blade: Trinity
Pairing: Abigail Whistler/Hannibal King
Rating: PG13
Warnings/Spoilers: No warnings. Set during the movie
Genres: Established relationship
Word Count: 3,600
Status: Complete, one shot
Disclaimer: Blade: Trinity, the motion picture, is owned by New Line Cinema. This is a not for profit fanfiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Notes: Thanks to
aithine for beta reading duties. Any mistakes remaining are my own. Title and quote from 'Spirits' by Jamie Woon, which is an awesome, awesome song. Written for my kissbingo card square 'other: to put them to sleep'.
Summary: She should punch him, just fucking punch him for doing that to her, but she couldn't, not when she could see the genuine concern in his eyes and not when King gave so little shit about so much. It figured that he'd finally give a shit about this.
-o-
While we have oceans
Rivers that still bring us life
Reasons to live in the moment
Well, hold onto your time
-o-
"You want to go after Dracula," Blade intoned, the words so sparse of emotion that Abigail couldn't tell if Blade's reaction was good or bad. The man was impossible to read, as closed off as he was; his voice was as heavy and impassive now as it had been since Abigail and King had rescued him - or helped him rescue himself, which might be a more accurate way of putting it.
It hadn't been a question, but King nodded anyway, slow and serious when King was normally anything but. He glanced over and met Abby's eyes for a moment, and she could almost see the gears slowly turning away inside his head. King normally didn't let the fact that he had a brain show; he was too good at distracting, using a smart quip and a sleight of hand to keep people off balance, never letting anyone see past the smokescreen he threw up that hid the dedicated, driven man underneath.
More than once Abby had wondered what he'd been like before Danica Talos got her fangs into him.
Blade snorted, shaking his head, but more to himself, it seemed rather than any audience. He'd been dismissing the Night Stalkers from the very second that King had burst through safety glass and bought him his freedom, and Abby was beginning to tire of it.
"You in?" King asked, and Abby wondered if she was the only one who heard the tension in his voice. She knew him too well to miss it, even if King wasn't giving away anything on the surface. He was lounging against the bench, his arms folded across his chest, looking as though he was just shooting the breeze for the hell of it, no particular urgency because he had no particular place to be. Blade certainly didn't seem impressed; he gave King a long, slow look, head tilted to the side, like King was a not particularly interesting insect that had crawled into his range of view and Blade was trying to decide whether to squash it or not. Whatever was going on behind Blade's stony façade, he finally nodded, brief and decisive.
"I'm in," he said, and Abby huffed out a breath she hadn't even known she was holding, feeling some of the tension in her chest leak away. "First thing we do is hunt familiars."
He said it as though it was news, like the Night Stalkers needed to be told the most basic of things when King probably knew even better than Blade how the vampires operated - Blade may have hunted them for longer than any of them, but King had lived and breathed it for five long fucking years. She half-expected King to say as much - he threw that little detail around far too often, and not just to boast. It was more a 'fuck you, I'm not dead yet' aimed at the world, and at Danica Talos in particular. But King didn't call Blade on his admittedly impressive shit; instead he just clapped his hands together, back to loud and attention-getting now that the question had been answered to his satisfaction. "Sounds like a plan," he said, glancing away from Blade and back to her; she could see the moment when the curtains inside King's head came down. Or went up, and the clown was back on stage, depending on how you looked at it. "But those particular rats aren't nocturnal, so I say we get some shut eye and start beating the crap out of people in the morning."
While King had been talking, Blade had switched his attention to Abby, his expression giving nothing away as he stared at her, probably looking for traces of her father in the contours of her face, but at King's words he turned his head slowly back towards her partner. His face was no longer expressionless, and the look on it dropped the temperature of the room a couple of degrees. He let out a long, low growl that sent King's gaze darting briefly back in Abby's direction again, his eyebrow raising fractionally. No, she didn't know what Blade's problem was, either, although she suspected that some of it at least had to do with King and his mile-a-minute mouth.
"Look, man," King began, and Abby suppressed the instinctive wince at that. "I have no idea whether or not you actually need to sleep or whether you just do some fucked up freaky half-vampire shit, but me and Abby? Definitely human." King paused for a breath, his brow furrowing thoughtfully. "Well, now, anyway. And we've already had one pitched battle tonight - saving your ass I might add." Blade bared his teeth, a tiny little lip curl that may, or may not, have been intentional. "We're running on fumes."
Blade's head turned slowly back in her direction, and Abby kept her mouth firmly shut. She wasn't about to get into it with Blade - Blade of all people - and she certainly wasn't going to do or admit to anything that made her look weak in his eyes. But she also wasn't going to do anything to contradict King. He was her partner - she had his back. Always.
"Besides," King continued, meeting her eyes behind Blade's back and giving her an apologetic little twitch of a look, "the cops will have made our usual vehicle - as if driving around in a van with bullet holes in it wouldn't have attracted attention anyway. Dex will need some time to source us some new wheels. And Hedges will need a few to come up with some party favours," King added as an afterthought.
Hedges snorted. "I notice Dex and I aren't on the sleep rotation."
"You can sleep when you're dead, baby," King shot back, quick as a flash, and then, because he was King, he had to add, "And some of us, not me of course, need our beauty sleep. Actually, come to think of it, you need that most of all, Hedges."
Hedges protested that as well, but Abby tuned him out, watching Blade's lip curl again as he took in King. Whatever his opinion of King, at least this time he didn't seem to be able to refute what King was saying.
"First light," he growled, his eyes still focused on King even if his ever-present shades hid the look in them.
"Dawn raid," said King, switching his attention from tormenting Hedges back to Blade and nodding slowly again. "I like it. Simple. Sweet. Deadly. As plans go, it doesn't suck."
Blade's expression said it all, but, no matter what Blade thought or how dismissive he was of them, her father had selected the Night Stalkers for a reason. Still, she'd be lying if she didn't admit that it was a relief when Blade's gaze passed over her without the same expression of distaste on his face as there was when he looked at King. But then his eyes returned to her face and lingered, his expression blank, like he was carved from stone.
Not much fazed her, but Blade's focus had her shifting uncomfortably, feeling strangely vulnerable and hating it. Unlike King - who hid the stillness underneath with a flurry of movement on the surface - Blade was all stillness on the surface, but who knew what currents were churning away below? He was still a mystery to her: something alien, untouchable and immovable, a creature of myth and legend larger than could be related to.
But her father had loved him. More than he had loved Abigail.
"There's a room, if you want it," Dex interrupted to offer in his slow drawl; Blade snatched his attention back from Abigail, focusing on Dex. It didn't seem to faze Dex, and he could have a sense of humour as peculiar as King's sometimes; it was only a beat before he added, completely unbowed by Blade's look, "It's next to King's."
Blade snorted again, and his face wasn't as inexpressive as usual when he glanced over at King. There were hints of disbelief and irritation, and maybe even some contempt, amongst the granite, but he didn't say anything, simply following where Dex led in a swirl of leather and - as King would probably say - total cool.
"I don't think he likes me," said King once the pair of them disappeared around the corner. He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise when Abby glanced over at him, but there was a hint of a smile on his face, like his amusement couldn't help but rise to the surface no matter what playful form of hurt he was trying to project.
Abby returned it, one of those little quirks of connection they shared.
"Nobody likes you," grumbled Hedges, retrieving one of his toys from behind King, who didn't move out of his way, instead making Hedges reach around him like it was a game. Knowing King, it probably was. Hedges gave him an exasperated look, and Abby's smile deepened.
"Abigail likes me," King pouted, sending a look of appeal in her direction.
"Abby tolerates you," Hedges huffed, busying himself something or other on his workbench. "There's a difference."
King widened his eyes comically at Abby, his expression tragic, and her smile grew into a grin.
"I tolerate Hedges," she said. "You, the jury is still out on."
"Ouch," he said, and actually placed his hand over his heart as though she'd mortally wounded him. His eyes were dancing, though, and there was a small grin playing around the corners of his mouth. "Want to twist that blade a little deeper, sweetheart?"
"Will you two just go to bed?" snapped Hedges, who was still trying to work around King; King, being King, was still making that as difficult for him as possible.
"Are you actually suggesting that Abby and I do the dirty, Hedges? Because I'm not sure how Abigail is going to feel about that kind of talk."
"Was I... no! Jesus, King! Sometimes you're a Grade A dick."
"The dick is grade A," King agreed gravely, "I can see why you think Abby might be interested."
Hedges just stopped in his tracks, his expression stunned as he looked between the pair of them. "What...?" Hedges hands fluttered entertainingly, before he looked over that Abby, the look on his face now pleading. "Abby, I didn't mean..."
Hedges should know better than to appeal to her for back-up. She was perfectly willing to rein King in when he'd started it, and she was one of the few who could - it was amazing how much a vague look of disappointment on her part could achieve where King was concerned - but this time Hedges had thrown the first punch and he needed to take his licks like a big boy. She shrugged her shoulders, giving Hedges a look that was half-way between 'what can you do?' and 'he's got a point'.
"Oh, God, just... both of you," Hedges flapped his hands again, the move this time encompassing both Abby and King, "go be somewhere else. Anywhere else. Please, for the love of all that is good and holy!"
King gave him an easy smile, pushing himself away from the bench and sauntering towards the door, flipping a casual wave back towards Hedges, who was still spluttering slightly to himself. Abby followed him, swallowing down a smile.
King slowed his steps once they were out of the door, letting Abby catch him up and then matching her pace. She gave him a sidelong look, wondering what was going on in that brain of his. He was being unusually silent now that they were out of Hedges' hearing, and that wasn't like him at all. Even when it was just the two of them, he tended to keep up a steady stream of consciousness, almost like he was scared that as soon as he stopped talking, he'd start thinking.
She got why he might want to avoid that.
"You okay?" she asked quietly.
"Me? I'm peachy." He gave her a sidelong look of his own, quirking his eyebrow at her. "Why?"
"Because your room is in the opposite direction."
He let out a little 'huh' sound, one that didn't fool her at all. "Maybe I was just being a gentleman, walking you to your door." Her disbelieving look said everything it needed to, and he chuckled a little ruefully. "Not buying it, huh?"
"Not for a second, King." They'd reached her door, and she opened it, leaning against the doorframe and eyeing him. "What's the real reason?"
"Figured I'd just sleep here."
"Did you, now?" She folded her arms and gave him a long, measured look over the top of them. "What astounding and twisted thought processes led you to that conclusion?"
"Well..." He lowered his voice and leant in, resting his elbow on the wall next to her so that his face was only inches from hers. "Apparently Blade's sleeping in the room next to mine, and he doesn't seem to like me very much. I'm a bit worried that he's going to sneak into my room in the middle of the night and stake me in my sleep."
He was so full of shit, sometimes, but in spite of herself, Abby found herself grinning at him. "That right?"
"Yeah. And it's a little too... homoerotic for me, at least for a first date. I mean, I barely know the guy. I think he should buy me dinner first, don't you?"
She laughed, a low rumble that shook all the way through her. "You didn't buy me dinner first," she reminded him, her voice a low purr as she hooked one finger through the belt-loop on his pants.
"Man, how quickly they forget. I bought you a Happy Meal, remember?"
"You kept the toy," she pointed out.
"Details, details, Whistler." He leaned in closer, his breath brushing over her cheek and his gaze fixed on her mouth. "Hey, Whistler?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I sleep in your bed tonight?" She pushed at him gently, and he rocked backwards on his feet with a grin. "Is that a yes?"
"I thought the whole point was to get some rest."
"What did you think I meant?" And then he widened his eyes, his grin breaking the surface. "Abigail Whistler, are you trying to suggest something improper? Because I have to tell you, I'm totally that kind of a guy." Like she hadn't worked that one out for herself, but before she could come up with a suitably snappy retort, King reached up and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. His fingers lingered for a moment, soft and gentle against her skin. "I'll behave myself. Scout's honour."
"When were you ever a boy scout?"
"Oh, I'm always prepared, sweetheart." That she could believe.
"King..."
He leaned in and kissed her, just as soft and gentle as his touch had been, and it stopped the words in her mouth. "That a yes?" he asked again when he pulled back, staying close enough that she could feel the words as they formed against her lips. She kissed him back, and it was all the answer he needed.
His hands slid slowly down her back, over the curve of her ass, finally settling on her upper thighs. A little pressure from him, and she went up, curling her legs around his waist as he carried her into her room. He dropped her onto the bed, and she bounced with a soft oof, giving him an exasperated look as he sat down next to her and started unlacing his shoes.
"Nice to see romance isn't dead," she said dryly, and he paused for a moment, giving her a strange little look, with a side order of a small smile that was just as strange. He kicked his shoes off, and they landed on the floor with a soft clattering sound. He left them where they were, of course, and it would be his own damned fault if he needed to piss in the middle of the night and tripped over them.
"You okay?" he asked, turning to face her as she started to unzip her boots.
"Sure." She pulled the first one off, and then the second, more focused on that - and tucking them neatly and pointedly under her side of the bed - rather than worrying about King. "Why do you ask?"
He didn't answer her straight away, saying nothing at all until she finally looked back at him, and then he said softly, and that made it worse somehow, "I'm sorry about your dad."
It hit her like a sucker punch, knocking the air right out of her so that she could only sit there and stare at him, watching his face twist in silent apology. He reached up and stroked his fingers along her hairline, and she should punch him, just fucking punch him for doing that to her, but she couldn't, not when she could see the genuine concern in his eyes and not when King gave so little shit about so much. It figured that he'd finally give a shit about this.
She took in a ragged breath, her eyes stinging. She wasn't going to cry, not now, not ever. Not in front of King, no matter how he was looking at her.
"We weren't exactly close," she said eventually, proud of how little her voice shook, and he nodded.
"I know," he said. "I'm sorry about that, too."
Bastard.
"I'm fine," she said, putting some steel in her tone this time, and he gave her a little half-smile, one that said he'd caught it and wasn't fooled.
"I know. Now, are you going to talk all night or are you going to let me get some sleep?"
He stretched out on the bed on his side, facing her, cushioning his head on one arm. Glaring at him didn't make her feel better; she kicked at him instead, wishing she still had her boots on, and added a scowl when he simply grinned up at her, completely unrepentant. "Come here," he said, reaching out to grab her hand and tug her down towards him. She resisted at first - no point in making it too easy for him - but eventually she let him pull her down onto the mattress and wrap his arms around her. She still stayed stiff for long moments, refusing to relax into the warmth of his body. Her resistance didn't seem to bother him - he simply rolled onto his back and pulled her closer, tucking her head into his neck and stroking his fingers lightly up and down her side until, finally, it seemed stupid not to let the tension slowly ease out of her body.
He was too muscular to make a good pillow, but his shoulder was broad enough for her to rest her head on and she'd slept in worse and much more uncomfortable places. She breathed out slowly, her body finally relaxing into his and the last of stiffness ebbing away. He pressed his lips against her forehead and she closed her eyes, almost undone by the casual touch; it shouldn't have meant anything but somehow it meant everything instead.
"I barely saw him growing up," she whispered into King's neck, keeping her eyes tightly closed. He nodded and his beard brushed against her skin, scratching and prickling slightly. She opened her eyes, staring down his body and watching the even rise and fall of his chest. "I mean... it wasn't like he was going to win Father of the Year, you know?" He nodded again, turning his head to press his lips back against her skin; they stayed there, his breath warm against her forehead. "He was always in a goddamned hurry to be somewhere else," she said. "I knew why. I think I always knew why. But..."
But there was a world of difference between barely seeing someone and knowing that you were never going to see them again.
The sudden surge of grief surprised her, welling up inside her until she shook with it. But King held her through it, his arms around her and his mouth gentle on her skin, even more so when it finally met hers, and that was more surprising still.
She felt better afterwards, embarrassed but like everything had been washed away and left her empty, hollowed out but somehow clean. It wasn't a bad feeling, and she gave in to a further moment of weakness, tightening her arms around King and not missing the way he returned it.
"Thank you," she said, tucking herself back against his side; it was easier to say it to his chest than it would have been had she still been looking at him. "For... you know..."
"Yeah, about that... You know I was just worried that Blade was going to murder me in my sleep, right?"
She laughed softly, because that was what he expected and it was easier for both of them that way. "Still..."
He nodded, still strangely silent; she could feel the move even if she couldn't see it, just as she could feel it when his lips brushed over her skin again, lingering there as he breathed her in.
"Go to sleep, Whistler." In spite of his words, he pulled her a little closer, and she closed her eyes, listening to the sound of his breathing, feeling the rhythm of his pulse under her as his heart beat, slow and sure. "We've got a busy day tomorrow."
The end
Author: alyse
Fandom: Blade: Trinity
Pairing: Abigail Whistler/Hannibal King
Rating: PG13
Warnings/Spoilers: No warnings. Set during the movie
Genres: Established relationship
Word Count: 3,600
Status: Complete, one shot
Disclaimer: Blade: Trinity, the motion picture, is owned by New Line Cinema. This is a not for profit fanfiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Notes: Thanks to
aithine for beta reading duties. Any mistakes remaining are my own. Title and quote from 'Spirits' by Jamie Woon, which is an awesome, awesome song. Written for my kissbingo card square 'other: to put them to sleep'.
Summary: She should punch him, just fucking punch him for doing that to her, but she couldn't, not when she could see the genuine concern in his eyes and not when King gave so little shit about so much. It figured that he'd finally give a shit about this.
-o-
While we have oceans
Rivers that still bring us life
Reasons to live in the moment
Well, hold onto your time
-o-
"You want to go after Dracula," Blade intoned, the words so sparse of emotion that Abigail couldn't tell if Blade's reaction was good or bad. The man was impossible to read, as closed off as he was; his voice was as heavy and impassive now as it had been since Abigail and King had rescued him - or helped him rescue himself, which might be a more accurate way of putting it.
It hadn't been a question, but King nodded anyway, slow and serious when King was normally anything but. He glanced over and met Abby's eyes for a moment, and she could almost see the gears slowly turning away inside his head. King normally didn't let the fact that he had a brain show; he was too good at distracting, using a smart quip and a sleight of hand to keep people off balance, never letting anyone see past the smokescreen he threw up that hid the dedicated, driven man underneath.
More than once Abby had wondered what he'd been like before Danica Talos got her fangs into him.
Blade snorted, shaking his head, but more to himself, it seemed rather than any audience. He'd been dismissing the Night Stalkers from the very second that King had burst through safety glass and bought him his freedom, and Abby was beginning to tire of it.
"You in?" King asked, and Abby wondered if she was the only one who heard the tension in his voice. She knew him too well to miss it, even if King wasn't giving away anything on the surface. He was lounging against the bench, his arms folded across his chest, looking as though he was just shooting the breeze for the hell of it, no particular urgency because he had no particular place to be. Blade certainly didn't seem impressed; he gave King a long, slow look, head tilted to the side, like King was a not particularly interesting insect that had crawled into his range of view and Blade was trying to decide whether to squash it or not. Whatever was going on behind Blade's stony façade, he finally nodded, brief and decisive.
"I'm in," he said, and Abby huffed out a breath she hadn't even known she was holding, feeling some of the tension in her chest leak away. "First thing we do is hunt familiars."
He said it as though it was news, like the Night Stalkers needed to be told the most basic of things when King probably knew even better than Blade how the vampires operated - Blade may have hunted them for longer than any of them, but King had lived and breathed it for five long fucking years. She half-expected King to say as much - he threw that little detail around far too often, and not just to boast. It was more a 'fuck you, I'm not dead yet' aimed at the world, and at Danica Talos in particular. But King didn't call Blade on his admittedly impressive shit; instead he just clapped his hands together, back to loud and attention-getting now that the question had been answered to his satisfaction. "Sounds like a plan," he said, glancing away from Blade and back to her; she could see the moment when the curtains inside King's head came down. Or went up, and the clown was back on stage, depending on how you looked at it. "But those particular rats aren't nocturnal, so I say we get some shut eye and start beating the crap out of people in the morning."
While King had been talking, Blade had switched his attention to Abby, his expression giving nothing away as he stared at her, probably looking for traces of her father in the contours of her face, but at King's words he turned his head slowly back towards her partner. His face was no longer expressionless, and the look on it dropped the temperature of the room a couple of degrees. He let out a long, low growl that sent King's gaze darting briefly back in Abby's direction again, his eyebrow raising fractionally. No, she didn't know what Blade's problem was, either, although she suspected that some of it at least had to do with King and his mile-a-minute mouth.
"Look, man," King began, and Abby suppressed the instinctive wince at that. "I have no idea whether or not you actually need to sleep or whether you just do some fucked up freaky half-vampire shit, but me and Abby? Definitely human." King paused for a breath, his brow furrowing thoughtfully. "Well, now, anyway. And we've already had one pitched battle tonight - saving your ass I might add." Blade bared his teeth, a tiny little lip curl that may, or may not, have been intentional. "We're running on fumes."
Blade's head turned slowly back in her direction, and Abby kept her mouth firmly shut. She wasn't about to get into it with Blade - Blade of all people - and she certainly wasn't going to do or admit to anything that made her look weak in his eyes. But she also wasn't going to do anything to contradict King. He was her partner - she had his back. Always.
"Besides," King continued, meeting her eyes behind Blade's back and giving her an apologetic little twitch of a look, "the cops will have made our usual vehicle - as if driving around in a van with bullet holes in it wouldn't have attracted attention anyway. Dex will need some time to source us some new wheels. And Hedges will need a few to come up with some party favours," King added as an afterthought.
Hedges snorted. "I notice Dex and I aren't on the sleep rotation."
"You can sleep when you're dead, baby," King shot back, quick as a flash, and then, because he was King, he had to add, "And some of us, not me of course, need our beauty sleep. Actually, come to think of it, you need that most of all, Hedges."
Hedges protested that as well, but Abby tuned him out, watching Blade's lip curl again as he took in King. Whatever his opinion of King, at least this time he didn't seem to be able to refute what King was saying.
"First light," he growled, his eyes still focused on King even if his ever-present shades hid the look in them.
"Dawn raid," said King, switching his attention from tormenting Hedges back to Blade and nodding slowly again. "I like it. Simple. Sweet. Deadly. As plans go, it doesn't suck."
Blade's expression said it all, but, no matter what Blade thought or how dismissive he was of them, her father had selected the Night Stalkers for a reason. Still, she'd be lying if she didn't admit that it was a relief when Blade's gaze passed over her without the same expression of distaste on his face as there was when he looked at King. But then his eyes returned to her face and lingered, his expression blank, like he was carved from stone.
Not much fazed her, but Blade's focus had her shifting uncomfortably, feeling strangely vulnerable and hating it. Unlike King - who hid the stillness underneath with a flurry of movement on the surface - Blade was all stillness on the surface, but who knew what currents were churning away below? He was still a mystery to her: something alien, untouchable and immovable, a creature of myth and legend larger than could be related to.
But her father had loved him. More than he had loved Abigail.
"There's a room, if you want it," Dex interrupted to offer in his slow drawl; Blade snatched his attention back from Abigail, focusing on Dex. It didn't seem to faze Dex, and he could have a sense of humour as peculiar as King's sometimes; it was only a beat before he added, completely unbowed by Blade's look, "It's next to King's."
Blade snorted again, and his face wasn't as inexpressive as usual when he glanced over at King. There were hints of disbelief and irritation, and maybe even some contempt, amongst the granite, but he didn't say anything, simply following where Dex led in a swirl of leather and - as King would probably say - total cool.
"I don't think he likes me," said King once the pair of them disappeared around the corner. He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise when Abby glanced over at him, but there was a hint of a smile on his face, like his amusement couldn't help but rise to the surface no matter what playful form of hurt he was trying to project.
Abby returned it, one of those little quirks of connection they shared.
"Nobody likes you," grumbled Hedges, retrieving one of his toys from behind King, who didn't move out of his way, instead making Hedges reach around him like it was a game. Knowing King, it probably was. Hedges gave him an exasperated look, and Abby's smile deepened.
"Abigail likes me," King pouted, sending a look of appeal in her direction.
"Abby tolerates you," Hedges huffed, busying himself something or other on his workbench. "There's a difference."
King widened his eyes comically at Abby, his expression tragic, and her smile grew into a grin.
"I tolerate Hedges," she said. "You, the jury is still out on."
"Ouch," he said, and actually placed his hand over his heart as though she'd mortally wounded him. His eyes were dancing, though, and there was a small grin playing around the corners of his mouth. "Want to twist that blade a little deeper, sweetheart?"
"Will you two just go to bed?" snapped Hedges, who was still trying to work around King; King, being King, was still making that as difficult for him as possible.
"Are you actually suggesting that Abby and I do the dirty, Hedges? Because I'm not sure how Abigail is going to feel about that kind of talk."
"Was I... no! Jesus, King! Sometimes you're a Grade A dick."
"The dick is grade A," King agreed gravely, "I can see why you think Abby might be interested."
Hedges just stopped in his tracks, his expression stunned as he looked between the pair of them. "What...?" Hedges hands fluttered entertainingly, before he looked over that Abby, the look on his face now pleading. "Abby, I didn't mean..."
Hedges should know better than to appeal to her for back-up. She was perfectly willing to rein King in when he'd started it, and she was one of the few who could - it was amazing how much a vague look of disappointment on her part could achieve where King was concerned - but this time Hedges had thrown the first punch and he needed to take his licks like a big boy. She shrugged her shoulders, giving Hedges a look that was half-way between 'what can you do?' and 'he's got a point'.
"Oh, God, just... both of you," Hedges flapped his hands again, the move this time encompassing both Abby and King, "go be somewhere else. Anywhere else. Please, for the love of all that is good and holy!"
King gave him an easy smile, pushing himself away from the bench and sauntering towards the door, flipping a casual wave back towards Hedges, who was still spluttering slightly to himself. Abby followed him, swallowing down a smile.
King slowed his steps once they were out of the door, letting Abby catch him up and then matching her pace. She gave him a sidelong look, wondering what was going on in that brain of his. He was being unusually silent now that they were out of Hedges' hearing, and that wasn't like him at all. Even when it was just the two of them, he tended to keep up a steady stream of consciousness, almost like he was scared that as soon as he stopped talking, he'd start thinking.
She got why he might want to avoid that.
"You okay?" she asked quietly.
"Me? I'm peachy." He gave her a sidelong look of his own, quirking his eyebrow at her. "Why?"
"Because your room is in the opposite direction."
He let out a little 'huh' sound, one that didn't fool her at all. "Maybe I was just being a gentleman, walking you to your door." Her disbelieving look said everything it needed to, and he chuckled a little ruefully. "Not buying it, huh?"
"Not for a second, King." They'd reached her door, and she opened it, leaning against the doorframe and eyeing him. "What's the real reason?"
"Figured I'd just sleep here."
"Did you, now?" She folded her arms and gave him a long, measured look over the top of them. "What astounding and twisted thought processes led you to that conclusion?"
"Well..." He lowered his voice and leant in, resting his elbow on the wall next to her so that his face was only inches from hers. "Apparently Blade's sleeping in the room next to mine, and he doesn't seem to like me very much. I'm a bit worried that he's going to sneak into my room in the middle of the night and stake me in my sleep."
He was so full of shit, sometimes, but in spite of herself, Abby found herself grinning at him. "That right?"
"Yeah. And it's a little too... homoerotic for me, at least for a first date. I mean, I barely know the guy. I think he should buy me dinner first, don't you?"
She laughed, a low rumble that shook all the way through her. "You didn't buy me dinner first," she reminded him, her voice a low purr as she hooked one finger through the belt-loop on his pants.
"Man, how quickly they forget. I bought you a Happy Meal, remember?"
"You kept the toy," she pointed out.
"Details, details, Whistler." He leaned in closer, his breath brushing over her cheek and his gaze fixed on her mouth. "Hey, Whistler?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I sleep in your bed tonight?" She pushed at him gently, and he rocked backwards on his feet with a grin. "Is that a yes?"
"I thought the whole point was to get some rest."
"What did you think I meant?" And then he widened his eyes, his grin breaking the surface. "Abigail Whistler, are you trying to suggest something improper? Because I have to tell you, I'm totally that kind of a guy." Like she hadn't worked that one out for herself, but before she could come up with a suitably snappy retort, King reached up and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. His fingers lingered for a moment, soft and gentle against her skin. "I'll behave myself. Scout's honour."
"When were you ever a boy scout?"
"Oh, I'm always prepared, sweetheart." That she could believe.
"King..."
He leaned in and kissed her, just as soft and gentle as his touch had been, and it stopped the words in her mouth. "That a yes?" he asked again when he pulled back, staying close enough that she could feel the words as they formed against her lips. She kissed him back, and it was all the answer he needed.
His hands slid slowly down her back, over the curve of her ass, finally settling on her upper thighs. A little pressure from him, and she went up, curling her legs around his waist as he carried her into her room. He dropped her onto the bed, and she bounced with a soft oof, giving him an exasperated look as he sat down next to her and started unlacing his shoes.
"Nice to see romance isn't dead," she said dryly, and he paused for a moment, giving her a strange little look, with a side order of a small smile that was just as strange. He kicked his shoes off, and they landed on the floor with a soft clattering sound. He left them where they were, of course, and it would be his own damned fault if he needed to piss in the middle of the night and tripped over them.
"You okay?" he asked, turning to face her as she started to unzip her boots.
"Sure." She pulled the first one off, and then the second, more focused on that - and tucking them neatly and pointedly under her side of the bed - rather than worrying about King. "Why do you ask?"
He didn't answer her straight away, saying nothing at all until she finally looked back at him, and then he said softly, and that made it worse somehow, "I'm sorry about your dad."
It hit her like a sucker punch, knocking the air right out of her so that she could only sit there and stare at him, watching his face twist in silent apology. He reached up and stroked his fingers along her hairline, and she should punch him, just fucking punch him for doing that to her, but she couldn't, not when she could see the genuine concern in his eyes and not when King gave so little shit about so much. It figured that he'd finally give a shit about this.
She took in a ragged breath, her eyes stinging. She wasn't going to cry, not now, not ever. Not in front of King, no matter how he was looking at her.
"We weren't exactly close," she said eventually, proud of how little her voice shook, and he nodded.
"I know," he said. "I'm sorry about that, too."
Bastard.
"I'm fine," she said, putting some steel in her tone this time, and he gave her a little half-smile, one that said he'd caught it and wasn't fooled.
"I know. Now, are you going to talk all night or are you going to let me get some sleep?"
He stretched out on the bed on his side, facing her, cushioning his head on one arm. Glaring at him didn't make her feel better; she kicked at him instead, wishing she still had her boots on, and added a scowl when he simply grinned up at her, completely unrepentant. "Come here," he said, reaching out to grab her hand and tug her down towards him. She resisted at first - no point in making it too easy for him - but eventually she let him pull her down onto the mattress and wrap his arms around her. She still stayed stiff for long moments, refusing to relax into the warmth of his body. Her resistance didn't seem to bother him - he simply rolled onto his back and pulled her closer, tucking her head into his neck and stroking his fingers lightly up and down her side until, finally, it seemed stupid not to let the tension slowly ease out of her body.
He was too muscular to make a good pillow, but his shoulder was broad enough for her to rest her head on and she'd slept in worse and much more uncomfortable places. She breathed out slowly, her body finally relaxing into his and the last of stiffness ebbing away. He pressed his lips against her forehead and she closed her eyes, almost undone by the casual touch; it shouldn't have meant anything but somehow it meant everything instead.
"I barely saw him growing up," she whispered into King's neck, keeping her eyes tightly closed. He nodded and his beard brushed against her skin, scratching and prickling slightly. She opened her eyes, staring down his body and watching the even rise and fall of his chest. "I mean... it wasn't like he was going to win Father of the Year, you know?" He nodded again, turning his head to press his lips back against her skin; they stayed there, his breath warm against her forehead. "He was always in a goddamned hurry to be somewhere else," she said. "I knew why. I think I always knew why. But..."
But there was a world of difference between barely seeing someone and knowing that you were never going to see them again.
The sudden surge of grief surprised her, welling up inside her until she shook with it. But King held her through it, his arms around her and his mouth gentle on her skin, even more so when it finally met hers, and that was more surprising still.
She felt better afterwards, embarrassed but like everything had been washed away and left her empty, hollowed out but somehow clean. It wasn't a bad feeling, and she gave in to a further moment of weakness, tightening her arms around King and not missing the way he returned it.
"Thank you," she said, tucking herself back against his side; it was easier to say it to his chest than it would have been had she still been looking at him. "For... you know..."
"Yeah, about that... You know I was just worried that Blade was going to murder me in my sleep, right?"
She laughed softly, because that was what he expected and it was easier for both of them that way. "Still..."
He nodded, still strangely silent; she could feel the move even if she couldn't see it, just as she could feel it when his lips brushed over her skin again, lingering there as he breathed her in.
"Go to sleep, Whistler." In spite of his words, he pulled her a little closer, and she closed her eyes, listening to the sound of his breathing, feeling the rhythm of his pulse under her as his heart beat, slow and sure. "We've got a busy day tomorrow."
The end