FIC: "Catalyst" (Part One) (Dave Wenham, Harry Sinclair, Karl Urban, Orlando Bloom)
Title: "Catalyst" (Part One)
Authors: Brenda (azewewish) & Jo (idiosyncratic)
Series: Claimed Universe
Featuring: Dave Wenham, Dominic Monaghan, Elijah Wood, Harry Sinclair, Josh Hartnett, Karl Urban, Lawrence Makoare, Liv Tyler, Orlando Bloom, Sean Bean, and Viggo Mortensen
Rating: PG to NC-17
Summary: After a decade of adjusting to life with Orlando and Dave, change is once again sweeping into Harry and Karl's world, testing both themselves and everyone they hold dear.
Takes place five years after Casual and ten years after the events concluded in Consummated.
Disclaimer: Vampires still don’t exist. And we doubt that any of these people are fucking each other.
Notes: Special thanks to the_stowaway for her initial beta and insight. Any remaining mistakes purely belong to Jo & Brenda.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve | Part Thirteen | Part Fourteen | Part Fifteen | Part Sixteen | Part Seventeen | Part Eighteen | Part Nineteen | Part Twenty | Part Twenty-One | Part Twenty-Two | Part Twenty-Three | Part Twenty-Four | Part Twenty-Five | Part Twenty-Six | Part Twenty-Seven | Part Twenty-Eight | Part Twenty-Nine | Part Thirty | Part Thirty-One | Part Thirty-Two | Part Thirty-Three | Part Thirty-Four | Part Thirty-Five | Part Thirty-Six | Part Thirty-Seven | Part Thirty-Eight | Part Thirty-Nine | Part Forty | Part Forty-One | Part Forty-Two | Part Forty-Three | Part Forty-Four | Part Forty-Five | Part Forty-Six | Part Forty-Seven | Part Forty-Eight | Part Forty-Nine | Part Fifty | Part Fifty-One | Part Fifty-Two | Part Fifty-Three | Part Fifty-Four | Part Fifty-Five | Fifty-Six | Part Fifty-Seven | Part Fifty-Eight | Part Fifty-Nine | Part Sixty |
The garage was quiet, except for the clanging of tools and Harry's occasional curse at a particularly recalcitrant bolt. Karl knew better than to try to interject any sort of conversation into the mix. If there was one thing that was sacred to Harry, it was tinkering with anything mechanical, especially the cars and bikes they'd bought over the years. Karl considered himself lucky that Harry allowed him access to the garage at all, let alone when there was work to be done.
Not that watching Harry work was exactly hard on the eyes. Well-worn jeans hugged Harry's hips and thighs and ass as he bent over the hood of a restored '67 GTX, and his sweat-soaked t-shirt clung to a broad, muscled chest. His hair, normally dark and flowing and framing a remarkable face, was pulled into a loose ponytail. He had smudge marks all along his arms and an oil smear across his forehead. Karl entertained the very nice mental image of yanking Harry to him and plundering that lush mouth, of filling his hands with slick skin, but, for now, he was content to lean against the bumper of the Viper and watch Harry in action.
It was better than watching porn.
"Fucking cocksmoking fucking..." Harry yanked on the wrench, and let out a feral grunt when the bolt loosened. "I'm fucking killing Orlando."
Which, depending on exactly how pissed Harry was when he saw Orlando, wasn't exactly an empty threat. "Should I ask?" Karl said, careful to keep his voice neutral.
"Timing's shot again." Harry gave Karl a disgusted look. "This is your fault."
"Why is it my fault now?"
"You let him get behind the wheel."
It was never a smart idea to provoke Harry, but, well, what was life without a little risk? "Last I looked, Orlando was an adult. He hardly needs my permission to take any of the cars out."
Harry made a noise of disapproval, and bent back to the piston block. "You spoil him."
Which was normally true, but not as of late. "I've barely seen him the last few months. Orlando's been...absent." Which was sort of odd, now that Karl was thinking about it. In the last decade that Orlando had been part of their lives, Karl'd come to rely on Orlando's constant, welcome presence. "Any idea what's been going on?"
"You'd have to ask Orlando."
Karl's eyes narrowed. It wasn't like Harry to evade a direct question. "That's not an answer."
Sighing, Harry looked up. "It's his place to tell you."
"And if I guess?" Whatever it was, he didn't like the sound of it. Anything that was bad enough to have Harry keeping secrets from him was cause for worry.
"You know I won't lie to you."
"But you won't volunteer anything." When Harry continued to look at him, Karl made an irritated noise. "Sometimes that honor of yours is a damn nuisance."
Harry just arched an eyebrow and turned back to the car. "If you want to know what's going on with him, you know what to do."
Karl opened his mouth to reply and was hit by a sudden, disconcerting thought. "He's not getting bored with us, is he?"
"I'm not going to dignify that with an answer," Harry said, head deep beneath the hood.
"But -" The door to the garage opened, and Karl stopped mid-sentence as the subject of their discussion came into view. Even dressed casually in track pants and an old t-shirt, Orlando radiated innate grace, and was still so beautiful that, even now, he managed to stutter Karl's breath.
"Hey...um..." Orlando's greeting trailed off as Harry straightened up and glared. "Fuck, c'mon, it's not bad...is it?"
Before Harry could do more than loom, Karl reached out and snagged Orlando's hand, pulling him out of reach. "Best not to talk to him right now," he murmured.
"But I..." Orlando stopped when Karl shook his head. "Um..." Apparently deciding that Karl had the right way of it (smart idea, Karl thought), Orlando let Karl drag him out of the garage and onto the front lawn. And, more importantly, Orlando was out of reach of any flying tools that Harry might fling about in sheer, frustrated anger. Harry's temper in the best of times was something Karl goaded only sparingly.
"There, we should be safe."
Orlando chewed on his lower lip, a lock of dark curls falling across a high forehead. "He's going to kill me, isn't he?"
"He might've mentioned it," Karl replied, with a rakish grin. "But I could put in a good word for you."
Orlando's gaze narrowed. "What's in it for you?"
"I'm shocked you would say such a thing."
"I'm shocked that you're shocked," Orlando retorted, dryly. "You're not very good at playing the maligned lover."
Good point. Karl decided to abandon his stance, and simply shrugged instead. "It occurred to me that I haven't seen much of you lately," he said, instead. "Anything going on I should know about?"
If Karl hadn't been watching for it, he would have missed the faint deer-in-headlights look that appeared before vanishing just as quickly. Karl had to give Orlando credit. He was getting much better at hiding what was going on inside his head. "Don't know what you mean."
"No?" Karl stepped in, smiled as Orlando stepped back. It wasn't a large step, but it was a step. "Please tell me you're not going to attempt to lie to me."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Orlando replied, a little too airily for Karl's liking.
"So tell me what you've been up to all these evenings that you're not home." Another step in, and Karl was more than a little pleased that Orlando stood his ground.
"I, um, I've just been busy." For a few seconds, Orlando managed to hold Karl's gaze. "With things."
"I see." For some unaccountable reason, Karl was disappointed. He'd honestly thought that he and Orlando had gotten past the point where the child would feel the need to try to lie to him. "Well, then, is there time in your busy schedule for dinner with Harry and me tonight?"
"Um..." Orlando chewed his lip again. "Can't," he finally muttered, eyes darting back towards the garage. "Gotta date."
"A date?"
"Not a date date," Orlando squeaked, finally taking that next step back. "A, um, thing. You know. Meeting. And, um, I need to get ready. So I'm not late."
"Alright." Disappointment was now warring with anger and hurt. Never a good combination. "Keep your secrets. I won't bother you again."
For a moment, Orlando reeled back like he'd been slapped. Karl immediately felt a tug of guilt over it, which was ridiculous, considering that Karl was the injured party here. "Karl, I..."
"No, really, it's alright." He ignored Orlando's outstretched hand. "I'm your lover, not your father. You don't owe me an explanation." Which was true, as far as it went. One of the reasons why Karl and Harry had lasted as long as they had was because they'd led separate lives, had different interests and friends. But Harry had never lied to him, not when asked a direct question. And, somehow, the idea that Orlando trusted Harry with whatever this was - because it was clear Harry knew - and not Karl was its own sort of slap.
Orlando reached out, wrapped his fingers around Karl's wrist. "Do you really want to know?"
"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."
For a moment, Orlando just stood there. Then his shoulders slumped as he released Karl's arm. "I'm sorry. I just...I've been seeing someone. And I know I should have told you, but I was afraid you'd take over, because you've just got this way about you. And, um, it wasn't going to be a long term thing, and it isn't, and it probably isn't going to last much longer because Jake...well...we've just been enjoying ourselves."
"Take over?" The words were automatic; Karl's mind reeled at the knowledge that Orlando had finally taken a companion and hadn't even told him about it.
"Oh, come on, Karl, you know what you're like." Orlando waved his hands in Karl's direction. Karl glanced down, saw only himself, dressed in oil-slick jeans and a dirty t-shirt. Certainly nothing sinister. "You have all of this...magnetism about you. It's hard for anyone to look anywhere that's not you when you're around."
"And you thought Harry would make a more acceptable partner in crime?" Karl asked, dumbfounded. If Karl had magnetism, Harry had the nuclear equivalent.
Orlando made a small sound of frustration. "He was with me the night I met Jake. We're sort of...I mean, we're..."
"Both fucking him? I got that part," Karl supplied, certain he had to sound as annoyed as he felt.
"Yes," Orlando replied, just as tightly. "Well, it's way more me than him, but..."
"But you felt that you couldn't trust me with something as important as your first companion."
"It's not like that," Orlando snapped. Flags of color rode high on his cheeks. His eyes had taken on a liquid sheen. "I was going to tell you."
"Sometime in this century, I presume?" Fuck that. And fuck Orlando (and Harry, for that matter) for not trusting him, and swear to God, if the child started to cry, Karl was going to snap and belt him.
"It never came up!"
"I see. Granted, it's not exactly something you can drop into a casual conversation, but you might have at least tried. Or did you think I would try to take your companion away from you? Do you really believe -?"
"I think he's gotten the point, Karl."
"I don't give a flying fuck what you think," Karl stated, carefully and clearly, turning to meet Harry's gaze. "You knew. You knew and didn't tell me, never even so much as hinted at it."
Harry didn't so much as flinch at Karl's tone. "At Orlando's request."
"Karl, I'm sor..."
"Don't." Karl shook his head, the motion short. "So help me God, Orlando, if you say you're sorry one more time, I will not be held accountable for my actions."
"Alright." Out of the corner of his eye, Karl could see Orlando twisting his hands the way he did when he was nervous about something. The sight sent a savage sense of satisfaction through him.
"Orlando, why don't you go on?"
"I...alright. I'll be home later."
Before Orlando could move, Karl turned his head just enough to look at him. Orlando wilted, and that sense of satisfaction grew. "Enjoy yourself. You can tell me all about it when you get home."
"Karl." The quiet word brought Karl's head whipping around again, and Orlando took the opportunity offered, escaping back into the house. Fucking coward.
Karl held up a finger, shook his head. He was having a hard time even looking at Harry right now. "I don't want to hear it."
"I don't particularly care. Christ, old man, would you listen to yourself? You sound like Lauren used to in one of her snits," Harry snapped, throwing his oil rag to the ground as he stepped closer, invaded Karl's personal space.
The urge to plow his fist into something - anything - was fast overriding the need to understand what had happened and why neither of them had trusted him. "We're not fighting and fucking our way out of this, puppy," Karl said, nostrils flaring as he clenched his hands into tight fists to avoid shoving Harry away.
"Who said I wanted to?" Harry asked, the bond between them pulsing with a dark and dangerous current. "We both know this isn't about who Orlando takes to his bed."
"Of course not." Karl was insulted that Harry would feel the need to mention it. He wasn't some flighty mortal, for fuck's sake. "We both know what this is about. How long?"
"Going on a year."
Every bit of hard-won calm went flying out the window. Karl's voice sank to a growl. "A year? You both kept this from me for a year?"
His fist rose, almost of its own accord, plowed into Harry's chin, before he was fully aware he'd even moved. "Fuck you both," he snarled, and turned to walk away.
One hand clamped over his shoulder, whirled him around. He barely had time to react before Harry's own fist connected across his cheek, the punch sending him staggering back.
Harry wiped the blood pooling across the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, stance wide, ready for combat. "Come back when you can be an adult about this."
Karl's only response was to flip Harry off before stalking to the garage.
(To Be Continued)
Authors: Brenda (azewewish) & Jo (idiosyncratic)
Series: Claimed Universe
Featuring: Dave Wenham, Dominic Monaghan, Elijah Wood, Harry Sinclair, Josh Hartnett, Karl Urban, Lawrence Makoare, Liv Tyler, Orlando Bloom, Sean Bean, and Viggo Mortensen
Rating: PG to NC-17
Summary: After a decade of adjusting to life with Orlando and Dave, change is once again sweeping into Harry and Karl's world, testing both themselves and everyone they hold dear.
Takes place five years after Casual and ten years after the events concluded in Consummated.
Disclaimer: Vampires still don’t exist. And we doubt that any of these people are fucking each other.
Notes: Special thanks to the_stowaway for her initial beta and insight. Any remaining mistakes purely belong to Jo & Brenda.
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve | Part Thirteen | Part Fourteen | Part Fifteen | Part Sixteen | Part Seventeen | Part Eighteen | Part Nineteen | Part Twenty | Part Twenty-One | Part Twenty-Two | Part Twenty-Three | Part Twenty-Four | Part Twenty-Five | Part Twenty-Six | Part Twenty-Seven | Part Twenty-Eight | Part Twenty-Nine | Part Thirty | Part Thirty-One | Part Thirty-Two | Part Thirty-Three | Part Thirty-Four | Part Thirty-Five | Part Thirty-Six | Part Thirty-Seven | Part Thirty-Eight | Part Thirty-Nine | Part Forty | Part Forty-One | Part Forty-Two | Part Forty-Three | Part Forty-Four | Part Forty-Five | Part Forty-Six | Part Forty-Seven | Part Forty-Eight | Part Forty-Nine | Part Fifty | Part Fifty-One | Part Fifty-Two | Part Fifty-Three | Part Fifty-Four | Part Fifty-Five | Fifty-Six | Part Fifty-Seven | Part Fifty-Eight | Part Fifty-Nine | Part Sixty |
The garage was quiet, except for the clanging of tools and Harry's occasional curse at a particularly recalcitrant bolt. Karl knew better than to try to interject any sort of conversation into the mix. If there was one thing that was sacred to Harry, it was tinkering with anything mechanical, especially the cars and bikes they'd bought over the years. Karl considered himself lucky that Harry allowed him access to the garage at all, let alone when there was work to be done.
Not that watching Harry work was exactly hard on the eyes. Well-worn jeans hugged Harry's hips and thighs and ass as he bent over the hood of a restored '67 GTX, and his sweat-soaked t-shirt clung to a broad, muscled chest. His hair, normally dark and flowing and framing a remarkable face, was pulled into a loose ponytail. He had smudge marks all along his arms and an oil smear across his forehead. Karl entertained the very nice mental image of yanking Harry to him and plundering that lush mouth, of filling his hands with slick skin, but, for now, he was content to lean against the bumper of the Viper and watch Harry in action.
It was better than watching porn.
"Fucking cocksmoking fucking..." Harry yanked on the wrench, and let out a feral grunt when the bolt loosened. "I'm fucking killing Orlando."
Which, depending on exactly how pissed Harry was when he saw Orlando, wasn't exactly an empty threat. "Should I ask?" Karl said, careful to keep his voice neutral.
"Timing's shot again." Harry gave Karl a disgusted look. "This is your fault."
"Why is it my fault now?"
"You let him get behind the wheel."
It was never a smart idea to provoke Harry, but, well, what was life without a little risk? "Last I looked, Orlando was an adult. He hardly needs my permission to take any of the cars out."
Harry made a noise of disapproval, and bent back to the piston block. "You spoil him."
Which was normally true, but not as of late. "I've barely seen him the last few months. Orlando's been...absent." Which was sort of odd, now that Karl was thinking about it. In the last decade that Orlando had been part of their lives, Karl'd come to rely on Orlando's constant, welcome presence. "Any idea what's been going on?"
"You'd have to ask Orlando."
Karl's eyes narrowed. It wasn't like Harry to evade a direct question. "That's not an answer."
Sighing, Harry looked up. "It's his place to tell you."
"And if I guess?" Whatever it was, he didn't like the sound of it. Anything that was bad enough to have Harry keeping secrets from him was cause for worry.
"You know I won't lie to you."
"But you won't volunteer anything." When Harry continued to look at him, Karl made an irritated noise. "Sometimes that honor of yours is a damn nuisance."
Harry just arched an eyebrow and turned back to the car. "If you want to know what's going on with him, you know what to do."
Karl opened his mouth to reply and was hit by a sudden, disconcerting thought. "He's not getting bored with us, is he?"
"I'm not going to dignify that with an answer," Harry said, head deep beneath the hood.
"But -" The door to the garage opened, and Karl stopped mid-sentence as the subject of their discussion came into view. Even dressed casually in track pants and an old t-shirt, Orlando radiated innate grace, and was still so beautiful that, even now, he managed to stutter Karl's breath.
"Hey...um..." Orlando's greeting trailed off as Harry straightened up and glared. "Fuck, c'mon, it's not bad...is it?"
Before Harry could do more than loom, Karl reached out and snagged Orlando's hand, pulling him out of reach. "Best not to talk to him right now," he murmured.
"But I..." Orlando stopped when Karl shook his head. "Um..." Apparently deciding that Karl had the right way of it (smart idea, Karl thought), Orlando let Karl drag him out of the garage and onto the front lawn. And, more importantly, Orlando was out of reach of any flying tools that Harry might fling about in sheer, frustrated anger. Harry's temper in the best of times was something Karl goaded only sparingly.
"There, we should be safe."
Orlando chewed on his lower lip, a lock of dark curls falling across a high forehead. "He's going to kill me, isn't he?"
"He might've mentioned it," Karl replied, with a rakish grin. "But I could put in a good word for you."
Orlando's gaze narrowed. "What's in it for you?"
"I'm shocked you would say such a thing."
"I'm shocked that you're shocked," Orlando retorted, dryly. "You're not very good at playing the maligned lover."
Good point. Karl decided to abandon his stance, and simply shrugged instead. "It occurred to me that I haven't seen much of you lately," he said, instead. "Anything going on I should know about?"
If Karl hadn't been watching for it, he would have missed the faint deer-in-headlights look that appeared before vanishing just as quickly. Karl had to give Orlando credit. He was getting much better at hiding what was going on inside his head. "Don't know what you mean."
"No?" Karl stepped in, smiled as Orlando stepped back. It wasn't a large step, but it was a step. "Please tell me you're not going to attempt to lie to me."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Orlando replied, a little too airily for Karl's liking.
"So tell me what you've been up to all these evenings that you're not home." Another step in, and Karl was more than a little pleased that Orlando stood his ground.
"I, um, I've just been busy." For a few seconds, Orlando managed to hold Karl's gaze. "With things."
"I see." For some unaccountable reason, Karl was disappointed. He'd honestly thought that he and Orlando had gotten past the point where the child would feel the need to try to lie to him. "Well, then, is there time in your busy schedule for dinner with Harry and me tonight?"
"Um..." Orlando chewed his lip again. "Can't," he finally muttered, eyes darting back towards the garage. "Gotta date."
"A date?"
"Not a date date," Orlando squeaked, finally taking that next step back. "A, um, thing. You know. Meeting. And, um, I need to get ready. So I'm not late."
"Alright." Disappointment was now warring with anger and hurt. Never a good combination. "Keep your secrets. I won't bother you again."
For a moment, Orlando reeled back like he'd been slapped. Karl immediately felt a tug of guilt over it, which was ridiculous, considering that Karl was the injured party here. "Karl, I..."
"No, really, it's alright." He ignored Orlando's outstretched hand. "I'm your lover, not your father. You don't owe me an explanation." Which was true, as far as it went. One of the reasons why Karl and Harry had lasted as long as they had was because they'd led separate lives, had different interests and friends. But Harry had never lied to him, not when asked a direct question. And, somehow, the idea that Orlando trusted Harry with whatever this was - because it was clear Harry knew - and not Karl was its own sort of slap.
Orlando reached out, wrapped his fingers around Karl's wrist. "Do you really want to know?"
"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."
For a moment, Orlando just stood there. Then his shoulders slumped as he released Karl's arm. "I'm sorry. I just...I've been seeing someone. And I know I should have told you, but I was afraid you'd take over, because you've just got this way about you. And, um, it wasn't going to be a long term thing, and it isn't, and it probably isn't going to last much longer because Jake...well...we've just been enjoying ourselves."
"Take over?" The words were automatic; Karl's mind reeled at the knowledge that Orlando had finally taken a companion and hadn't even told him about it.
"Oh, come on, Karl, you know what you're like." Orlando waved his hands in Karl's direction. Karl glanced down, saw only himself, dressed in oil-slick jeans and a dirty t-shirt. Certainly nothing sinister. "You have all of this...magnetism about you. It's hard for anyone to look anywhere that's not you when you're around."
"And you thought Harry would make a more acceptable partner in crime?" Karl asked, dumbfounded. If Karl had magnetism, Harry had the nuclear equivalent.
Orlando made a small sound of frustration. "He was with me the night I met Jake. We're sort of...I mean, we're..."
"Both fucking him? I got that part," Karl supplied, certain he had to sound as annoyed as he felt.
"Yes," Orlando replied, just as tightly. "Well, it's way more me than him, but..."
"But you felt that you couldn't trust me with something as important as your first companion."
"It's not like that," Orlando snapped. Flags of color rode high on his cheeks. His eyes had taken on a liquid sheen. "I was going to tell you."
"Sometime in this century, I presume?" Fuck that. And fuck Orlando (and Harry, for that matter) for not trusting him, and swear to God, if the child started to cry, Karl was going to snap and belt him.
"It never came up!"
"I see. Granted, it's not exactly something you can drop into a casual conversation, but you might have at least tried. Or did you think I would try to take your companion away from you? Do you really believe -?"
"I think he's gotten the point, Karl."
"I don't give a flying fuck what you think," Karl stated, carefully and clearly, turning to meet Harry's gaze. "You knew. You knew and didn't tell me, never even so much as hinted at it."
Harry didn't so much as flinch at Karl's tone. "At Orlando's request."
"Karl, I'm sor..."
"Don't." Karl shook his head, the motion short. "So help me God, Orlando, if you say you're sorry one more time, I will not be held accountable for my actions."
"Alright." Out of the corner of his eye, Karl could see Orlando twisting his hands the way he did when he was nervous about something. The sight sent a savage sense of satisfaction through him.
"Orlando, why don't you go on?"
"I...alright. I'll be home later."
Before Orlando could move, Karl turned his head just enough to look at him. Orlando wilted, and that sense of satisfaction grew. "Enjoy yourself. You can tell me all about it when you get home."
"Karl." The quiet word brought Karl's head whipping around again, and Orlando took the opportunity offered, escaping back into the house. Fucking coward.
Karl held up a finger, shook his head. He was having a hard time even looking at Harry right now. "I don't want to hear it."
"I don't particularly care. Christ, old man, would you listen to yourself? You sound like Lauren used to in one of her snits," Harry snapped, throwing his oil rag to the ground as he stepped closer, invaded Karl's personal space.
The urge to plow his fist into something - anything - was fast overriding the need to understand what had happened and why neither of them had trusted him. "We're not fighting and fucking our way out of this, puppy," Karl said, nostrils flaring as he clenched his hands into tight fists to avoid shoving Harry away.
"Who said I wanted to?" Harry asked, the bond between them pulsing with a dark and dangerous current. "We both know this isn't about who Orlando takes to his bed."
"Of course not." Karl was insulted that Harry would feel the need to mention it. He wasn't some flighty mortal, for fuck's sake. "We both know what this is about. How long?"
"Going on a year."
Every bit of hard-won calm went flying out the window. Karl's voice sank to a growl. "A year? You both kept this from me for a year?"
His fist rose, almost of its own accord, plowed into Harry's chin, before he was fully aware he'd even moved. "Fuck you both," he snarled, and turned to walk away.
One hand clamped over his shoulder, whirled him around. He barely had time to react before Harry's own fist connected across his cheek, the punch sending him staggering back.
Harry wiped the blood pooling across the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, stance wide, ready for combat. "Come back when you can be an adult about this."
Karl's only response was to flip Harry off before stalking to the garage.
(To Be Continued)