Fic - Like a Sunbeam Through a Shower, Chapter 7
Having been asked to post this here, I shall oblige. Previous chapters are somewhat less John-heavy, but are 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 & 6
Title: Like a Sunbeam Through a Shower, Chapter 7
Characters/Pairings: Allan, John - mentions Much
Rating: PG
Length: 1030 words.
Disclaimer: I own very little, and certainly not any recognisable characters. Just my laptop and my mind, and both of those are a little warped.
Spoilers/ Warnings: None I can think of.
Summary: In which John says more in five minutes than he did in the whole run of the show. And is very helpful, too.
Feedback: Will be loved and cuddled and cherished, forever.
*hopes she is doing it right*
After walking out the night before, Allan found himself wandering back into a silent camp just as the false dawn was waning. A lot of thinking had gotten him very few answers, and now he wasn't sure what he was going to do with himself until someone got up, except maybe hope that it wasn't Much. His wish was soon granted.
“Is it true, then?” John asked quietly.
“Is what true?” Allan didn't wonder what he was referring too - though he did marvel at John's uncanny ability to know things - but he wasn't sure exactly what he was being asked.
“Do you...,” John paused for a moment, “what you said to Much, did you mean it?”
“How do you know what I said?”
“I'll tell you if you stop avoiding the question.”
Allan sighed. Did I mean it?
“Did I mean to say it, or did I mean what I said?”
“Either. Both. Answer the question!”
“I really, really didn't mean to say it,” Allan took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, “but I think I meant it, yeah. Now are you gonna tell me how you know?”
“I know because somewhere along the line, I became Much's surrogate mother.” John looked displeased. Allan had a strange moment picturing him in a dress and apron. “I didn't want to be involved, but now that I am I want it sorted, because I do not need grown men crying on my shoulder.” John was clearly trying for stern, but Allan could tell that he was at least a little pleased with himself that Much would go to him with his problems. It was a pity he'd never gotten to be a proper dad, he would have been brilliant.
“Not that I'd want it any other way, but you seem awfully okay about this.”
“I'm not one for judgement. It's not my place.” John glanced over to where Tuck was sleeping in his bunk. Or at least, Allan would have sworn later that he did. “My place, apparently, is to sort you two out. And as much as I would like to bang your heads together, but I think this'll take more'n that. So, you are going to tell me everything that's gone on, and then I'm going to bang your heads together, ok?”
“Everything?” Allan raised an eyebrow.
“You damn well know what I mean by that, Allan A'Dale. There are some things I don't need nor want ta hear.” John crossed his arms and raised his own eyebrow. “Go on then.”
“There's not much to tell then, really. All started way back, just after we rescued Much from the Sheriff - have you seen his scar?”
“Aye, I have. And he's seen yours, so he tells me.” John's tone was almost disinterested. No distracting him, then.
“All right, all right. Like I said, not much to tell after that. We've had a thing going on since then.”
“A thing. But obviously not the kind of thing ye'd have with a barmaid, am I right?” Allan took a moment to wonder how John would know about things with barmaids, and it occurred to him, possibly for the first time, that he had to have been young, once. It was weird to think, but there it was.
“In hindsight, I can see now that it was more than that, right at the beginning. He was the first one to forgive me, y'know, all the way back when we were heading for the Holy Land. He didn't say it, no-one ever has - and that's fine, I don't deserve it anyway - but he started talking to me. Not about anything important, just used me as a sounding board, I guess. But at least someone was speaking to me again. I suppose I sorta got attached and stuff...” Allan shrugged and suddenly found his feet fascinating as he trailed off.
“You've obviously been spending more time with him than I'd noticed.” John observed wryly.
“You said you wanted the whole story.”
“Mmm. And you took many words to not tell it.”
“Well you said you didn't want to know the other bits...”
“I still don't, thank you.” John held up his hand.
“Right, that's about it, then. I had a silly crush on him, forced him into a relationship he didn't want, and then like the horse's arse I am I make declarations of love to a man who will never feel the same way.” Allan paced and flailed his arms as he spoke.
“And he's told you all this, has he?”
“Well...not in so many words...”
“So what did he say, then?”
“Uh.”
“Thought so.” Allan couldn't be certain, but he thought John might be smirking at him.
“I bare my soul to you and you're not taking it very seriously.”
“If you wanted to talk to a priest, Tuck is just over there” John nodded towards the sleeping monk, “but he doesn't know what I know.”
“Go on then, what do you know?”
“I know that you're wrong.”
“Usually am, why is that news?”
John looked at Allan for a long moment in a way that said “if you can't figure it out, there is no hope for you.”
“Oh,” Allan's eyes brightened “I'm wrong,” he paused for a second and looked straight at John, one eyebrow raised, “what'd he say?”
“Ah, well, that ye'll have te ask him.”
“Yeah, yeah I will,” Allan looked towards Much's bunk to see him curled up without a blanket. “was weird having a proper conversation with you, but good.”
“Ah, well - no-one talks to me, either. If they did, I'd have a lot more conversations.”
“I suppose so,” Allan made a mental note to talk to John more often, “thanks, anyway.” Allan went to grab his own blanket, to cover Much with.
“Any time. And Allan?”
“Yeah?” Allan looked back at the big man.
“I forgive you.”
Title: Like a Sunbeam Through a Shower, Chapter 7
Characters/Pairings: Allan, John - mentions Much
Rating: PG
Length: 1030 words.
Disclaimer: I own very little, and certainly not any recognisable characters. Just my laptop and my mind, and both of those are a little warped.
Spoilers/ Warnings: None I can think of.
Summary: In which John says more in five minutes than he did in the whole run of the show. And is very helpful, too.
Feedback: Will be loved and cuddled and cherished, forever.
*hopes she is doing it right*
After walking out the night before, Allan found himself wandering back into a silent camp just as the false dawn was waning. A lot of thinking had gotten him very few answers, and now he wasn't sure what he was going to do with himself until someone got up, except maybe hope that it wasn't Much. His wish was soon granted.
“Is it true, then?” John asked quietly.
“Is what true?” Allan didn't wonder what he was referring too - though he did marvel at John's uncanny ability to know things - but he wasn't sure exactly what he was being asked.
“Do you...,” John paused for a moment, “what you said to Much, did you mean it?”
“How do you know what I said?”
“I'll tell you if you stop avoiding the question.”
Allan sighed. Did I mean it?
“Did I mean to say it, or did I mean what I said?”
“Either. Both. Answer the question!”
“I really, really didn't mean to say it,” Allan took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, “but I think I meant it, yeah. Now are you gonna tell me how you know?”
“I know because somewhere along the line, I became Much's surrogate mother.” John looked displeased. Allan had a strange moment picturing him in a dress and apron. “I didn't want to be involved, but now that I am I want it sorted, because I do not need grown men crying on my shoulder.” John was clearly trying for stern, but Allan could tell that he was at least a little pleased with himself that Much would go to him with his problems. It was a pity he'd never gotten to be a proper dad, he would have been brilliant.
“Not that I'd want it any other way, but you seem awfully okay about this.”
“I'm not one for judgement. It's not my place.” John glanced over to where Tuck was sleeping in his bunk. Or at least, Allan would have sworn later that he did. “My place, apparently, is to sort you two out. And as much as I would like to bang your heads together, but I think this'll take more'n that. So, you are going to tell me everything that's gone on, and then I'm going to bang your heads together, ok?”
“Everything?” Allan raised an eyebrow.
“You damn well know what I mean by that, Allan A'Dale. There are some things I don't need nor want ta hear.” John crossed his arms and raised his own eyebrow. “Go on then.”
“There's not much to tell then, really. All started way back, just after we rescued Much from the Sheriff - have you seen his scar?”
“Aye, I have. And he's seen yours, so he tells me.” John's tone was almost disinterested. No distracting him, then.
“All right, all right. Like I said, not much to tell after that. We've had a thing going on since then.”
“A thing. But obviously not the kind of thing ye'd have with a barmaid, am I right?” Allan took a moment to wonder how John would know about things with barmaids, and it occurred to him, possibly for the first time, that he had to have been young, once. It was weird to think, but there it was.
“In hindsight, I can see now that it was more than that, right at the beginning. He was the first one to forgive me, y'know, all the way back when we were heading for the Holy Land. He didn't say it, no-one ever has - and that's fine, I don't deserve it anyway - but he started talking to me. Not about anything important, just used me as a sounding board, I guess. But at least someone was speaking to me again. I suppose I sorta got attached and stuff...” Allan shrugged and suddenly found his feet fascinating as he trailed off.
“You've obviously been spending more time with him than I'd noticed.” John observed wryly.
“You said you wanted the whole story.”
“Mmm. And you took many words to not tell it.”
“Well you said you didn't want to know the other bits...”
“I still don't, thank you.” John held up his hand.
“Right, that's about it, then. I had a silly crush on him, forced him into a relationship he didn't want, and then like the horse's arse I am I make declarations of love to a man who will never feel the same way.” Allan paced and flailed his arms as he spoke.
“And he's told you all this, has he?”
“Well...not in so many words...”
“So what did he say, then?”
“Uh.”
“Thought so.” Allan couldn't be certain, but he thought John might be smirking at him.
“I bare my soul to you and you're not taking it very seriously.”
“If you wanted to talk to a priest, Tuck is just over there” John nodded towards the sleeping monk, “but he doesn't know what I know.”
“Go on then, what do you know?”
“I know that you're wrong.”
“Usually am, why is that news?”
John looked at Allan for a long moment in a way that said “if you can't figure it out, there is no hope for you.”
“Oh,” Allan's eyes brightened “I'm wrong,” he paused for a second and looked straight at John, one eyebrow raised, “what'd he say?”
“Ah, well, that ye'll have te ask him.”
“Yeah, yeah I will,” Allan looked towards Much's bunk to see him curled up without a blanket. “was weird having a proper conversation with you, but good.”
“Ah, well - no-one talks to me, either. If they did, I'd have a lot more conversations.”
“I suppose so,” Allan made a mental note to talk to John more often, “thanks, anyway.” Allan went to grab his own blanket, to cover Much with.
“Any time. And Allan?”
“Yeah?” Allan looked back at the big man.
“I forgive you.”