You knew it was going to be One Of Those Nights when you woke up. The way things went at the house that early evening confirmed it. You left, Valan stayed home, your friends couldn't get a-hold of you, shite happened, Davydd's romantic dinner plans -- while not ruined -- certainly weren't what he had planned, Rose ended up smashed and at the Wheatsheaf, Mortie's boys were pissed when she wasn't there, words were said...
     Yadda yadda yadda...
     So, now it's three-AM and you're getting home. Maybe Valan will still be pissed off -- the lights are on, he's home. And if the entire evening hadn't been enough, you see Davydd's Jag parked outside, top sort of up (not locked down). Brilliant.

     The door does its ritual clicking and turn once the electronic systems go off. Edward sighs, pushing the door open. He slips inside, not taking up much space, and twists immediately to close the door behind him.

     The foyer opens into the living room, no additional door blocks the view. When the front door opens, the hum of conversation still lingers in the air. Two heads lean outward, men leaning forward from their individual chairs. One golden, one bronze. Both men are wearing smart sweaters, look absolutely amazing, and both of them have been furious with you tonight.
     Have they been conspiring like hens?
     Davydd cuts a smile toward you, Edward. Sure, he was angry. "I've come to apologize for my behavior," he rolls out grandly, sitting back as you come into view and returning to his stretch upon the sofa. "Montague was about to let me put my head on his lap..."

     Valan has perhaps never looked better. He made sure of that, and you spent all of your time out on the town instead of home with him? He's in a camel-colored mohair sweater and cream-colored cords, his golden hair straight, shining. Not punked out or mussed as usual, but sleeked back slightly.
     "We were just commiserating, talking about That Woman," Rose, "... and my presentation." He smiles to you -- are we still fighting? -- "And ... a little bit about our various arguments with you today. We are both sorry... "

     "I'm still pissed off," Davydd cautions in a grump, "...just not at you..."

     "That woman," Edward says, after spinning about, raising brows, staring, then exhaling as he took out his keys and gun, "...has a name. It's Rosamund. And no need to apologize," Edward waves off, stepping into the living room proper, "...I'm sorry I missed your call, Davy. Got kinda occupied tonight."
     "Sorry on not calling you either," Edward shrugs, slithering out of his jacket. It's not his way to make a deal of things.

     "It's alright," Davydd gruffs, he pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his leather coat's pocket, the leather coat sitting beside him. "And I told him not to mention her name," he lights the cigarette with billows of smoke.

     Valan settles back, the smile trailing off to an bland expression of nothing and raising of the brows. He uncurls himself from his seat. "I'll leave you two to ... get caught up," get your shite settled, what-have-you. A hand lands on your hip, Edward, and a kiss on your cheek as you slither out of your jacket. We'll talk later.

     Davydd doesn't stand up, wave it off, protest or otherwise make a poetic or dramatic refusal to let Valan go his way. One argument at a time. "Congrats, Montague," he rumbles low, taking a pull of fire and smoke, breathing ash and letting it go through mouth and nose. "Welcome to the jungle," he smiles. "I'll get you a communion present next week." And then dark green eyes are settling on Edward.

     Davydd may talk, but Edward isn't done. The hand on his hip is caught and the kiss on the cheek is returned on the lips. Regardless who's in the room.
     I need you.
     Then, "Communion present," Edward grins, liking that image.

     "Jesus Christ in his great mercy," Davydd rolls out, laughing at the kiss. He averts his eyes, looking to the ceiling. "If you start breathing heavy, I'm just going to leave..."

     Valan chuckles into the kiss, the smile brilliant, the kiss given warm, followed by a second. And then he pants, laughing. Looking to Edward, Valan grins for both of you. "You can stay up and visit, but not past four," a finger hooks in Edward's waistband, tugging Edward to him, grinning into a third kiss. And then he lets Edward go. "Davydd," he says, turning to look at the Welshman, "...it was good to see you. Come back sometime, not so late and grumpy. We'll go out." A wink to you, Edward. See! I was here, calming him down.

     Davydd smirks, "Alright, alright! Jesus! Less grumpy." He rolls dark green eyes, waves at Montague -- go upstairs, kid! "And you're getting coal for your communion present," he rolls out, voice lifting.

     Edward gives the first smile of several hours. He watches Valan go -- a vision, or so his expression says.
     "Make it fast," Edward does then grump. "I'm hungry." And tired. A long night, compounded with a little bloodloss, can make a man agitated.
     "How are you? Why are you here? Something up?" Edward wonders, moving over to collapse on the sofa. Immediately his head falls back and he closes his eyes.

     His hand reaches out, giving you a nudge, a rub, a pat and then he stands. "No, I'm no kind of man to get in between a man and his supper," Davydd rolls out. "I just wanted to... apologize... for being a twat." He takes his jacket and sighs it on. "I came here to cool off and wait for you. I should get back to Sandrine..."
     He's frowning. It's been an upsetting night. "I'm more bitter than I thought I'd be, more angry that I thought I'd be... is all... and..." a heavy exhale, "...even though she used that shite to piss me off, about Montague's vestiture... I meant what I told her. I didn't need to be there. That was from London. I'm not of London. I just... hated that the shite came from her.... that's all. So, we're square. You still love me, and all the world's right as rain..." Leathered arms outspread.

     "Davydd," Edward's eyes open, "...you know you don't need to explain t' me, mate." Edward shrugs against the sofa, then pushes off to stand again. "Why'd you let me sit?" he asks with a smirk. "No skin off my nose, eh? Just sorry I didn't get your call tonight, y'know. I didn't hear it go off."
     The open arms are stepped into and Edward gives a series of cursory pats. Come on, now. "I don't know what's happened between ya. I just know it ended. And as long as you're square, I'm same."

     "That's all there was, was the ending," he snorts. "And then I have to see her while waiting on Sandrine to close the shop. A city of millions. What's that line: of all the gin joints in all the world, she has to walk into mine." He smirks. Then he frowns, "Bah, to hell with her and Mortimer."
     He did love her, despite what he said. It hurt him when she fucked Vincent, despite what he said, chucked his shit on the lawn like he was a dog. Vincent probably got her drunk or hyped up on some shit. And he didn't treat her right when he had her. He didn't treat her right at all. Course, that went both ways, didn't it.
     A hug is given and a loud, hard pat on the leather. "Have a lovely dinner," he grins. You naughty man, you. "I'll be leaving London shortly," just so you know. "Maybe you and Valan can join Sandrine and I for dinner before we go. Have you over to Meniwell." And with that he moves toward the door.

     "That'd be nice," Edward nods. A social evening. "I'll ask him if he wants to, tomorrow, eh?" Edward adds, walking towards the door, opening it once he gets there.
     "And, um, Davy...just...think about the future, eh?" With Sandrine.

     Davydd looks at you for a few minutes and then he nods. "Aye.... I will," he says quietly. He will. His eyes are open. "And... tomorrow will be super. I'll let her know."
     He stands there another few seconds, thinking about the past and thinking about the future. There's no comparison really, and that's not what the feelings are about. It...just hasn't been that long. It really hasn't.
     He wakes with a smile, tosses you a wink, and then is heading out the door. Rosamund Clifford Caermichael ...well...she's like London as a whole, she's its spirit to him. A symbol of things that... just didn't fit. That just didn't make sense. That he couldn't trust, or that, in truth, didn't want him. They belong together, London and Rosamund.
     Squarely in his rearview mirror....
     But at you're moving up the stairs, there comes thought against your blood and the sound of his voice in your ears. You're a good man, Meurelle. And ...congratulations...

     "Ah me," Edward murmurs to himself, the house locked up once more. This time, the lights downstairs are turned off, the alarms set for the day, and a bottle grabbed in one hand with a gun in the other.
     Edward's ready for bed.
     The stairs creak slightly under his weight, and the planks on the landing sigh as he passes them. Edward's back appears at the bedroom door first, he pushing it open as both of his hands are full.

     "He get off alright then," Valan murmurs from the bed, where he lies waiting. You know he knows how to present himself to you, and so you find him, your golden pheasant on a plate. "I didn't figure he'd stay." He leans over tapping out his cigarette. As you back into the room, he's stretching back, gloriously naked and breathing the last of the smoke taken.
     "I'm ... sorry about earlier," he notes at the edge of his exhale. "I don't want to talk about it. I just want to say I'm sorry for being demanding and frustrating. I hope you had an alright night? Tomorrow night, we stay in..." He doesn't know you've already made plans, of course...

     "I'm sorry too," Edward smiles, pushing the bedroom door closed with a booted foot. It's a gentle tap of a close, despite his bulk. Whatever cause the earlier huff, Edward doesn't appear to be in a great rush to discuss it either. All is well and will get even more well soon enough.
     "He's fine," Edward exhales, showing his emotional weariness. "I didn't tell him," and now he's telling you, "...that I saw her tonight. On my way home. Four sheets to the fuckin' wind, she was. Then, I got his call," Edward explains, shaking his head. "Not that it matters," Edward says, shuffling over to his side of the bed and setting bottle on the table. In his opinion, they're wasting time.
     "What about you, ami," Edward moving to a more intriguing topic. He sets on the bed, causing a sink, and groans as he swings himself into the bed proper to face what's already there. "Christ, you're gorgeous," he whispers, letting the events of the day drift off as he watches the body lying next to him.

     "I am alright," he murmurs, smiling. Such a look. Valan lies back, an arm going beneath his head, physique given to you and smile given to you. Gold-green eyes are bright in the lamplighting. "Je suis dans l'amour avec un homme, parfois nous suis tous les deux realiste." His smile broadens, smoothening, "Mais il est a la maison maintenant et tout est bon," He reaches up with his other hand, fingers moving against your face, "Je veux il me baise," and squeeze at your lips, "...comme je voulais qu'il me baisat plus tot, avant que nos bouches aient obtenu de la maniere."
     Smiling still, Valan lifts, kissing you now as he could not with Davydd present. Kiss broken, suddenly, with a tug of your mouth and he lies down again. "I have this man who makes me crazy, sometimes I don't know what to do with myself," he purrs out. "But... I think he has an idea on how he can make it better... non?"

     Edward's placid staring breaks into a dimpled smile. "I do," he proclaims. The gun is set near his pillow, on the mattress. His tongue sweeps where he's kissed, anxious for more.
     Hands free, Edward scoots over, inelegantly, bringing much of the bedding with him. "Can we cut right to it," he teases. "I really want to see you," Edward grins, "...screwing my brains out." A sure sign that he's trying to get rid of the night's travails. "Dieu, how much I want to see that," Edward smirks, drifting off into a quick fantasy, as he his hand, fingers wide, lands on your waist and the chain glinting there.
     A rise of brows, "I guess I could stop talking about it..."

     "Certainment," Valan says against your mouth, grinning. Just like that, you are on your back. Just like that, a finger-snap of a moment, and his finger presses against your lips as he sits up, warmth moving against your lips, unnatural.
     But he doesn't want it to be over... just ...like...that...
     ...and so the heat recedes. Valan Montague smiles down at you and then compressing time passes you by in its ticks and tocks to the ticking and tocking of your zipper.
     "J'aime donner mon homme ce qu'il veut..."

     This is the smile few know. Radiant as his body relaxes. "It's been a long night," Edward says softly, meaning it. "Very long," he says almost sadly, hands at your waist. Eyes meet yours. Once, he would have drunk himself into a stupor, then followed it up with something else to make it all go away. But now, Edward has a man to help him to that place instead.
     It is your ride, Valan. Edward will be there, giving himself up and over to something else, as he needs to do.

Posted by rowan at November 17, 2003 01:38 PM