still more Tristan & Sethan
Vanilla #10. Phobia with Hot Fudge
Rating : PG
Timeframe : 1261
Word Count : 721
A sharp rattle and a click broke the silence. Tristan bolted upright on the stiff mattress, blinking rapidly to banish the darkness. He thrust a hand beneath the pillow, fingers curling around the cold steel of the hilt of the knife hidden there, as the door swung open.
“Do you have any idea what time it is?” he asked the willowy figure in the ever present dark cloak that now loomed in his doorway, bathed in the eerie light of a single candle.
Seemingly oblivious to both the question and his tone, Sethan proceded into the room, setting his candle on the table as he shut the door. “I have some news I thought you might-” His gaze slid down Tristan’s arm to the mattress and one dark brow lifted. “You have a knife under your pillow?”
Tristan’s eyes flew to the hand and the exposed butt of the knife. “I… er…” He moved to shove the thing back out of sight. A hand closed over his wrist and he froze.
Sethan tossed the pillow aside and slipped the knife from Tristan’s grasp. “When did you come by a knife?“ he said, slowly turning it over. “Seems I need to keep a closer eye on you.“ Tristan swallowed hard and shifted uncomfortably on the bed under the cold, blue stare. “Under your pillow, though?” he said. Thin lips curled ever so slightly as his eyes drifted back to the weapon in his hands. “You know I’m the only one with a key.”
“Exactly why I have a knife under my pillow.”
He cringed as Sethan threw his head back in laughter, a sight he was glad to experience quite infrequently. “And just what are you expecting?”
“I don‘t know,” said Tristan, staring sheepishly at his empty hand on the mattress. “I’d just rather not be unarmed when it happens.”
“How long have you been here?” Sethan’s tone turned patronizing.
Tristan picked at a wrinkle in the sheet as he thought for a moment. “I’m not even sure anymore, but-”
“Have I ever done anything inappropriate to you?”
Tristan glared up at the man still toying with the knife. “I’d love to hear you define-” Sethan cut him short with an icy look, slender fingers tensing along the weapon‘s handle. Tristan’s eyes dove back to his lap where his hands resumed their worrying at the covers. “Everyone thinks- I mean, they keep saying…”
He swore he heard a sigh. “If I was going to take advantage of you, don’t you think I’d have done it by now?” Sethan laughed again and Tristan risked a nervous glance his way. “Besides,” he continued, with a smirk and a hand run down the flat of the blade. “A knife wouldn’t do you much good.” He tossed the weapon and it landed, with a heavy thump, in Tristan’s lap.
“So,” said Tristan slowly, eyes on the knife and wondering what, if anything, would be of any protection. “What are you doing in my room at this hour?
Folding his arms, Sethan settled against the wall of the narrow chamber. “Thought you might like to hear that your wife and her sister showed up in court today,” he said.
Tristan’s head shot up, his throat suddenly tight as he searched Sethan’s passive look for some sign that he knew anything more. “She’s all right, then?”
“Apparently,” came the response, as Sethan reached for both the candle and the door.
“Apparently?” Tristan repeated, the sudden pounding of his heart nearly as loud to his own ear as his voice. “You come barging in here in the night and that’s all you have to say?”
Sethan shrugged, one hand curled around the knob. “Would you rather it come from someone else? Or, perhaps, not at all?”
Tristan’s gaze fell back to the knife in his lap, words failing him as he searched in vain for a reason why Ski and Lyssa would come out of hiding after so long. He swallowed, the lump in his throat only growing larger.
“Oh, another thing,” said Sethan, as the door creaked open. “Seems you’re an uncle.”
“I- What-?” But the door snapped shut and Tristan was alone in the dark again. He quietly slid the knife back under his pillow and wondered how long it would be before he could sleep again.
Rating : PG
Timeframe : 1261
Word Count : 721
A sharp rattle and a click broke the silence. Tristan bolted upright on the stiff mattress, blinking rapidly to banish the darkness. He thrust a hand beneath the pillow, fingers curling around the cold steel of the hilt of the knife hidden there, as the door swung open.
“Do you have any idea what time it is?” he asked the willowy figure in the ever present dark cloak that now loomed in his doorway, bathed in the eerie light of a single candle.
Seemingly oblivious to both the question and his tone, Sethan proceded into the room, setting his candle on the table as he shut the door. “I have some news I thought you might-” His gaze slid down Tristan’s arm to the mattress and one dark brow lifted. “You have a knife under your pillow?”
Tristan’s eyes flew to the hand and the exposed butt of the knife. “I… er…” He moved to shove the thing back out of sight. A hand closed over his wrist and he froze.
Sethan tossed the pillow aside and slipped the knife from Tristan’s grasp. “When did you come by a knife?“ he said, slowly turning it over. “Seems I need to keep a closer eye on you.“ Tristan swallowed hard and shifted uncomfortably on the bed under the cold, blue stare. “Under your pillow, though?” he said. Thin lips curled ever so slightly as his eyes drifted back to the weapon in his hands. “You know I’m the only one with a key.”
“Exactly why I have a knife under my pillow.”
He cringed as Sethan threw his head back in laughter, a sight he was glad to experience quite infrequently. “And just what are you expecting?”
“I don‘t know,” said Tristan, staring sheepishly at his empty hand on the mattress. “I’d just rather not be unarmed when it happens.”
“How long have you been here?” Sethan’s tone turned patronizing.
Tristan picked at a wrinkle in the sheet as he thought for a moment. “I’m not even sure anymore, but-”
“Have I ever done anything inappropriate to you?”
Tristan glared up at the man still toying with the knife. “I’d love to hear you define-” Sethan cut him short with an icy look, slender fingers tensing along the weapon‘s handle. Tristan’s eyes dove back to his lap where his hands resumed their worrying at the covers. “Everyone thinks- I mean, they keep saying…”
He swore he heard a sigh. “If I was going to take advantage of you, don’t you think I’d have done it by now?” Sethan laughed again and Tristan risked a nervous glance his way. “Besides,” he continued, with a smirk and a hand run down the flat of the blade. “A knife wouldn’t do you much good.” He tossed the weapon and it landed, with a heavy thump, in Tristan’s lap.
“So,” said Tristan slowly, eyes on the knife and wondering what, if anything, would be of any protection. “What are you doing in my room at this hour?
Folding his arms, Sethan settled against the wall of the narrow chamber. “Thought you might like to hear that your wife and her sister showed up in court today,” he said.
Tristan’s head shot up, his throat suddenly tight as he searched Sethan’s passive look for some sign that he knew anything more. “She’s all right, then?”
“Apparently,” came the response, as Sethan reached for both the candle and the door.
“Apparently?” Tristan repeated, the sudden pounding of his heart nearly as loud to his own ear as his voice. “You come barging in here in the night and that’s all you have to say?”
Sethan shrugged, one hand curled around the knob. “Would you rather it come from someone else? Or, perhaps, not at all?”
Tristan’s gaze fell back to the knife in his lap, words failing him as he searched in vain for a reason why Ski and Lyssa would come out of hiding after so long. He swallowed, the lump in his throat only growing larger.
“Oh, another thing,” said Sethan, as the door creaked open. “Seems you’re an uncle.”
“I- What-?” But the door snapped shut and Tristan was alone in the dark again. He quietly slid the knife back under his pillow and wondered how long it would be before he could sleep again.