FIC: "Catalyst" (Part Three) (Dave Wenham, Harry Sinclair, Karl Urban, Orlando Bloom)
Title: "Catalyst" (Part Three)
Authors: Brenda (azewewish) & Jo (idiosyncratic)
Series: Claimed Universe
Notes: Click here for full disclaimers and pairings.
Part One | Part Two |
The Viper hugged the curves of Coldwater Canyon like a lover as Karl navigated each turn with reckless ease. He didn't need to glance down at the tachometer to know he was going dangerously fast, but, well, if he wiped out over one of the cliffs, it wouldn't be the first car he'd totaled. Or the first time he'd embraced injury.
He could really use a good, bruising fight right now. Fuck Harry, anyway, and his damnable code of ethics. Some things were fucking well more important than some misplaced code of honor.
//Sean, are you around?//
A moment later, a puzzled voice answered. //Yeah, why?//
//I need you to meet me at the ring.//
//Anything I should know about?//
//I'll tell you when you get here.// With that, Karl swung onto Sunset and headed for the boxing club that he and Harry had started decades ago, mostly to keep their hard-won fighting skills sharp and so they'd have different opponents when they wanted to spar.
By the time Karl walked into the locker room, Sean was sitting on a bench and dressed in a pair of ratty boxing shorts and a tank top. One of the assistants was busy taping his hands and wrists. Sean looked up with a grin of welcome that vanished the second he got a good look at Karl's face.
"Right then," Sean said, holding a hand out for a glove. "Since I don't recall doing anything recently to piss you off, I'm going to guess and say Harry?"
Karl shook his head, still too angry to speak. He slammed his locker door open, started to strip off his street clothes.
"Not Harry?" When Karl shook his head again, Sean frowned. "Karl, it either is or isn't Harry. Which is it?"
"Not just Harry," Karl bit out, and hastily yanked on his boxing shorts and socks and shoes. He didn't bother with a shirt. He stalked over to the assistant, held his hands out to be taped.
"Not just Harry," Sean repeated slowly, then his face cleared. "You don't mean...you fought with Orlando?"
"Don't say his name." Just hearing it brought back the murderous rage in full force. He swung over to Sean just as soon as his gloves were on. "We doing this or not?"
"Of course. If it's a fight you want, I haven't had a decent one today," Sean shrugged, and followed him to the nearby ring.
Karl barely waited for them to step inside before he came out swinging. Sean just managed to block it, retaliated with his own punch, and the next thirty minutes were silent, except for the dull slap of gloves on flesh and the harsh grunts as each blow found its target. Karl let everything else fall by the wayside, and concentrated solely on blocking Sean's hits and getting in his own.
After a particularly brutal shot to the jaw, Sean backed up and raised his hands. "How long we going to keep this up?"
Karl answered with a vicious jab to Sean's stomach. Sean bore the brunt of that one, then ducked another punch, before coming in hard and fast, landing several sharp shots to Karl's ribs before dancing back out of reach. "That long, huh?"
"Long enough." Long enough so that the urge to drive right back up the hill to beat the hell out of both Harry and Orlando would start to lessen. He danced out of reach of the next blow, then ducked in low, landing several punches to Sean's solar plexus before Sean came in with a nasty uppercut that had him seeing stars. He stumbled back, had just enough in him to block the next strike before Sean simply kicked out a leg and swept his feet from under him.
Karl lay on the mat for a few long moments, wheezing, each bruise making itself felt. "That's cheating," he finally managed.
"And?" Sean hunkered down next to him. "I'm tired of being your punching bag. And I dunno about you, but I could sure as fuck use a drink."
"Several of them," Karl said, and let Sean pull him to his feet.
"That can be arranged." Sean peeled off his other glove, wiped his forehead with the back of one hand. "You ready to talk about it yet?"
"Drinks first," Karl said, and climbed out of the ring.
Leading the way into the locker room, Sean grinned over his shoulder. "Viper Room? It's closest."
"Only if you swear to get me drunk enough so I don't heckle any of the bad bands."
"Deal."
***
An hour later, after both of them showered and dressed in the change of clothes they kept in their lockers, Sean and Karl were comfortably seated at one of the so-called VIP booths, a mostly-empty bottle of single malt between them. Onstage, a pretty, young girl was sitting on a stool, strumming an acoustic guitar, and doing her best to channel her inner Ani DiFranco. She made for innocuous enough background noise.
"Talk," Sean said, refilling Karl's glass.
Sighing, Karl drained the contents before speaking. "Did you know that Orlando had taken a companion?"
Sean stared at Karl for a full minute. "I'm sorry, I must've misheard that. If I didn't know better, I'd swear you just said Orlando has taken a companion."
"He did. Sharing a companion with Harry, in fact."
"I...see." Even though it sounded as if he didn't. "That's good, though, right? Means the child is maturing."
"This happened a year ago."
"A year?"
"I found out about him by accident this afternoon."
"And Harry never mentioned it?" Sean asked, signaling their server for another bottle. "You two've never kept your companions a secret from the other."
"Harry," Karl made the name a curse, "was apparently obeying Orlando's wishes not to tell me about him."
"Why the fuck wouldn't Orlando tell you?"
"Apparently, I wasn't told because, and I quote, I'd take over if Orlando introduced me to him." He could still sense the bitterness and hurt vying for control. It wasn't a pleasant feeling.
"I... Oh." A peculiar look crossed Sean's face.
//Sean?//
Sean sighed before meeting Karl's gaze. "Well, I can see where he might've got that impression."
The anger surged back up, but Sean held up a hand before Karl could speak. "I'm not saying you would have," Sean continued. "I'm just saying that I can understand why he might have felt that way, at least, if this had happened in the early days of your relationship. But he should know better by now. If he doesn't..."
...it's serious problem. Sean didn't need to say it. Neither one of them did.
"I'd thought things were better," Karl finally said. "I'd thought we were communicating, that he was learning to come to me, that we were figuring all of this out together." When he lifted his eyes, he knew he had to look as miserable as he felt. "I don't know what to do about this. If he can't trust me..."
"Take a few days, give yourself some time to think. He loves you -"
"I've never doubted that."
"- but he obviously still has a lot of lingering issues where you're concerned. And you both need to deal with them when you're not as emotional."
Karl let out a laugh that was devoid of all humor. "He really should have been Harry's, you know. They understand each other so much better."
"True, but he belongs to both of you. And I doubt, even now, you'd want Viggo to do anything to break that bond."
"Might be easier." But there was no real conviction behind it. They both knew that Sean was right. Karl would fight anyone to the death to protect what he and Orlando had.
Sean started to add something, but the lights dimmed and the curtain on the stage opened. A low hum had started to build in the crowd. Then the noise was shattered by a single, clear saxophone note.
Karl spared the band a cursory glance, then did a double take at the sax player. Narrowed eyes took in long legs, a lanky frame, broad shoulders, and a mop of dark hair that contrasted nicely with lightly tanned skin. A bolt of visceral shock punched through him, sent his senses reeling in a white-hot mix of lust and possessiveness. He was halfway out of the booth, intent on dragging the mortal off-stage and somewhere private when Sean reached out, closed heavy fingers over his arm.
//Ease down, Karl, he's not going anywhere.//
Startled, Karl could only stare at Sean's hand for a moment, dazed mind trying to make sense of what Sean was saying. //I need to...//
//I know, trust me. The zing was so sharp that even I got a taste.// When Karl looked up, Sean's grin was wolfish. //Been awhile since I've seen you react that strongly to anyone.//
Still reeling, Karl could only nod as he returned his attention to the stage. The jazz-fusion combo wasn't the normal sort of fare for the Viper Room, but the crowd certainly seemed to be into it. Karl could tell that the sax player was feeding off the energy as he played, each note a low, liquid seduction that snared him all over again.
An unseen surge of energy caught his attention, pulled it from the stage, and he snarled. Even Sean bared fangs, head turning slightly in an effort to find the source of the disturbance.
A handful of lesser, fledgling vampires were clustered by the bar, and two of them were staring intently at the stage. At the sax player. When Karl stood this time, Sean didn't stop him. He pushed his way through the crowd, and leaned against the bar, closest to the one who was most fixated on the mortal. Then, with a lethal smile that exposed fully extended fangs, Karl waited. The second the younger vampire glanced at him, Karl curled his fingers around a slender wrist and squeezed hard enough to grind bones together. //Are you simply ignorant or stupid that you would willfully ignore my claim on the mortal?//
The other vampire yanked futilely on his hand, and Karl could tell a scathing retort was on the tip of his tongue before his eyes widened. //My Lord?// came the stammered reply.
Karl leaned in, sniffed lightly at the fledgling's neck, the threat unmistakable. //I'll spare you this time. But your youth will not always protect you should you ever choose to challenge me again.//
//I-I wasn't...I didn't know...//
//Then your Sire has failed you. Would you like me to speak with her on her duties to you?//
The other vampire shook his head. //N-no, my Lord. That w-won't be necessary.//
Karl dropped the other vampire's wrist. //Then I wish you a better night and a more successful hunt in another venue.// He inclined his head to the others, and turned, making his way back to the booth, and Sean.
"Laid it on a bit heavy, didn't you?" Sean said, and raised his glass in salute. "Poor bastard's going to have nightmares for a month."
"Good," Karl said, trying to refocus on the stage. He'd never admit aloud, but he was more than a little disappointed the fledgling had given in so easily. It had been decades since he'd put one in their proper place.
"Think your new pretty noticed. If the way his eyes followed you across the room is any indication, that is."
"Good." The next time the sax player's eyes traversed the room and landed on him, Karl allowed his gaze to linger. The small, answering jolt of lust was a welcome reward.
"Well, as much fun as it is watching you when you've got a new plaything in your grasp, I should be getting on before I'm late to meet Dom." Sean clasped both of his hands over one of Karl's, gave him a serious look. "Have fun with that one up there, but promise me you'll talk to Orlando when you do eventually make your way home."
"I will," Karl said, just as seriously. "And thank you."
"Well, you've done it for me often enough," Sean grinned, the motion crinkling the corners of his eyes. "I'd tell you to go easy on your new friend, but I have a feeling he wouldn't appreciate it."
"I hope not," Karl laughed, and waited until Sean had slid out of the booth before returning his attention to the stage. He sincerely hoped the band wouldn’t play too much longer.
(To Be Continued)
Authors: Brenda (azewewish) & Jo (idiosyncratic)
Series: Claimed Universe
Notes: Click here for full disclaimers and pairings.
Part One | Part Two |
The Viper hugged the curves of Coldwater Canyon like a lover as Karl navigated each turn with reckless ease. He didn't need to glance down at the tachometer to know he was going dangerously fast, but, well, if he wiped out over one of the cliffs, it wouldn't be the first car he'd totaled. Or the first time he'd embraced injury.
He could really use a good, bruising fight right now. Fuck Harry, anyway, and his damnable code of ethics. Some things were fucking well more important than some misplaced code of honor.
//Sean, are you around?//
A moment later, a puzzled voice answered. //Yeah, why?//
//I need you to meet me at the ring.//
//Anything I should know about?//
//I'll tell you when you get here.// With that, Karl swung onto Sunset and headed for the boxing club that he and Harry had started decades ago, mostly to keep their hard-won fighting skills sharp and so they'd have different opponents when they wanted to spar.
By the time Karl walked into the locker room, Sean was sitting on a bench and dressed in a pair of ratty boxing shorts and a tank top. One of the assistants was busy taping his hands and wrists. Sean looked up with a grin of welcome that vanished the second he got a good look at Karl's face.
"Right then," Sean said, holding a hand out for a glove. "Since I don't recall doing anything recently to piss you off, I'm going to guess and say Harry?"
Karl shook his head, still too angry to speak. He slammed his locker door open, started to strip off his street clothes.
"Not Harry?" When Karl shook his head again, Sean frowned. "Karl, it either is or isn't Harry. Which is it?"
"Not just Harry," Karl bit out, and hastily yanked on his boxing shorts and socks and shoes. He didn't bother with a shirt. He stalked over to the assistant, held his hands out to be taped.
"Not just Harry," Sean repeated slowly, then his face cleared. "You don't mean...you fought with Orlando?"
"Don't say his name." Just hearing it brought back the murderous rage in full force. He swung over to Sean just as soon as his gloves were on. "We doing this or not?"
"Of course. If it's a fight you want, I haven't had a decent one today," Sean shrugged, and followed him to the nearby ring.
Karl barely waited for them to step inside before he came out swinging. Sean just managed to block it, retaliated with his own punch, and the next thirty minutes were silent, except for the dull slap of gloves on flesh and the harsh grunts as each blow found its target. Karl let everything else fall by the wayside, and concentrated solely on blocking Sean's hits and getting in his own.
After a particularly brutal shot to the jaw, Sean backed up and raised his hands. "How long we going to keep this up?"
Karl answered with a vicious jab to Sean's stomach. Sean bore the brunt of that one, then ducked another punch, before coming in hard and fast, landing several sharp shots to Karl's ribs before dancing back out of reach. "That long, huh?"
"Long enough." Long enough so that the urge to drive right back up the hill to beat the hell out of both Harry and Orlando would start to lessen. He danced out of reach of the next blow, then ducked in low, landing several punches to Sean's solar plexus before Sean came in with a nasty uppercut that had him seeing stars. He stumbled back, had just enough in him to block the next strike before Sean simply kicked out a leg and swept his feet from under him.
Karl lay on the mat for a few long moments, wheezing, each bruise making itself felt. "That's cheating," he finally managed.
"And?" Sean hunkered down next to him. "I'm tired of being your punching bag. And I dunno about you, but I could sure as fuck use a drink."
"Several of them," Karl said, and let Sean pull him to his feet.
"That can be arranged." Sean peeled off his other glove, wiped his forehead with the back of one hand. "You ready to talk about it yet?"
"Drinks first," Karl said, and climbed out of the ring.
Leading the way into the locker room, Sean grinned over his shoulder. "Viper Room? It's closest."
"Only if you swear to get me drunk enough so I don't heckle any of the bad bands."
"Deal."
***
An hour later, after both of them showered and dressed in the change of clothes they kept in their lockers, Sean and Karl were comfortably seated at one of the so-called VIP booths, a mostly-empty bottle of single malt between them. Onstage, a pretty, young girl was sitting on a stool, strumming an acoustic guitar, and doing her best to channel her inner Ani DiFranco. She made for innocuous enough background noise.
"Talk," Sean said, refilling Karl's glass.
Sighing, Karl drained the contents before speaking. "Did you know that Orlando had taken a companion?"
Sean stared at Karl for a full minute. "I'm sorry, I must've misheard that. If I didn't know better, I'd swear you just said Orlando has taken a companion."
"He did. Sharing a companion with Harry, in fact."
"I...see." Even though it sounded as if he didn't. "That's good, though, right? Means the child is maturing."
"This happened a year ago."
"A year?"
"I found out about him by accident this afternoon."
"And Harry never mentioned it?" Sean asked, signaling their server for another bottle. "You two've never kept your companions a secret from the other."
"Harry," Karl made the name a curse, "was apparently obeying Orlando's wishes not to tell me about him."
"Why the fuck wouldn't Orlando tell you?"
"Apparently, I wasn't told because, and I quote, I'd take over if Orlando introduced me to him." He could still sense the bitterness and hurt vying for control. It wasn't a pleasant feeling.
"I... Oh." A peculiar look crossed Sean's face.
//Sean?//
Sean sighed before meeting Karl's gaze. "Well, I can see where he might've got that impression."
The anger surged back up, but Sean held up a hand before Karl could speak. "I'm not saying you would have," Sean continued. "I'm just saying that I can understand why he might have felt that way, at least, if this had happened in the early days of your relationship. But he should know better by now. If he doesn't..."
...it's serious problem. Sean didn't need to say it. Neither one of them did.
"I'd thought things were better," Karl finally said. "I'd thought we were communicating, that he was learning to come to me, that we were figuring all of this out together." When he lifted his eyes, he knew he had to look as miserable as he felt. "I don't know what to do about this. If he can't trust me..."
"Take a few days, give yourself some time to think. He loves you -"
"I've never doubted that."
"- but he obviously still has a lot of lingering issues where you're concerned. And you both need to deal with them when you're not as emotional."
Karl let out a laugh that was devoid of all humor. "He really should have been Harry's, you know. They understand each other so much better."
"True, but he belongs to both of you. And I doubt, even now, you'd want Viggo to do anything to break that bond."
"Might be easier." But there was no real conviction behind it. They both knew that Sean was right. Karl would fight anyone to the death to protect what he and Orlando had.
Sean started to add something, but the lights dimmed and the curtain on the stage opened. A low hum had started to build in the crowd. Then the noise was shattered by a single, clear saxophone note.
Karl spared the band a cursory glance, then did a double take at the sax player. Narrowed eyes took in long legs, a lanky frame, broad shoulders, and a mop of dark hair that contrasted nicely with lightly tanned skin. A bolt of visceral shock punched through him, sent his senses reeling in a white-hot mix of lust and possessiveness. He was halfway out of the booth, intent on dragging the mortal off-stage and somewhere private when Sean reached out, closed heavy fingers over his arm.
//Ease down, Karl, he's not going anywhere.//
Startled, Karl could only stare at Sean's hand for a moment, dazed mind trying to make sense of what Sean was saying. //I need to...//
//I know, trust me. The zing was so sharp that even I got a taste.// When Karl looked up, Sean's grin was wolfish. //Been awhile since I've seen you react that strongly to anyone.//
Still reeling, Karl could only nod as he returned his attention to the stage. The jazz-fusion combo wasn't the normal sort of fare for the Viper Room, but the crowd certainly seemed to be into it. Karl could tell that the sax player was feeding off the energy as he played, each note a low, liquid seduction that snared him all over again.
An unseen surge of energy caught his attention, pulled it from the stage, and he snarled. Even Sean bared fangs, head turning slightly in an effort to find the source of the disturbance.
A handful of lesser, fledgling vampires were clustered by the bar, and two of them were staring intently at the stage. At the sax player. When Karl stood this time, Sean didn't stop him. He pushed his way through the crowd, and leaned against the bar, closest to the one who was most fixated on the mortal. Then, with a lethal smile that exposed fully extended fangs, Karl waited. The second the younger vampire glanced at him, Karl curled his fingers around a slender wrist and squeezed hard enough to grind bones together. //Are you simply ignorant or stupid that you would willfully ignore my claim on the mortal?//
The other vampire yanked futilely on his hand, and Karl could tell a scathing retort was on the tip of his tongue before his eyes widened. //My Lord?// came the stammered reply.
Karl leaned in, sniffed lightly at the fledgling's neck, the threat unmistakable. //I'll spare you this time. But your youth will not always protect you should you ever choose to challenge me again.//
//I-I wasn't...I didn't know...//
//Then your Sire has failed you. Would you like me to speak with her on her duties to you?//
The other vampire shook his head. //N-no, my Lord. That w-won't be necessary.//
Karl dropped the other vampire's wrist. //Then I wish you a better night and a more successful hunt in another venue.// He inclined his head to the others, and turned, making his way back to the booth, and Sean.
"Laid it on a bit heavy, didn't you?" Sean said, and raised his glass in salute. "Poor bastard's going to have nightmares for a month."
"Good," Karl said, trying to refocus on the stage. He'd never admit aloud, but he was more than a little disappointed the fledgling had given in so easily. It had been decades since he'd put one in their proper place.
"Think your new pretty noticed. If the way his eyes followed you across the room is any indication, that is."
"Good." The next time the sax player's eyes traversed the room and landed on him, Karl allowed his gaze to linger. The small, answering jolt of lust was a welcome reward.
"Well, as much fun as it is watching you when you've got a new plaything in your grasp, I should be getting on before I'm late to meet Dom." Sean clasped both of his hands over one of Karl's, gave him a serious look. "Have fun with that one up there, but promise me you'll talk to Orlando when you do eventually make your way home."
"I will," Karl said, just as seriously. "And thank you."
"Well, you've done it for me often enough," Sean grinned, the motion crinkling the corners of his eyes. "I'd tell you to go easy on your new friend, but I have a feeling he wouldn't appreciate it."
"I hope not," Karl laughed, and waited until Sean had slid out of the booth before returning his attention to the stage. He sincerely hoped the band wouldn’t play too much longer.
(To Be Continued)