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Date Posted: 15:24:26 02/05/02 Tue
Author: Tristan and Rowan
Subject: Same here (sort of)
In reply to: Tia 's message, "One down, one up (kind of)" on 09:59:04 02/05/02 Tue

Tristan’s grief at Tia’s leaving him lasted for about half a second before he returned to being hysterically happy again. Maybe hysterically happy was too strong a word…but it was definitely a huge step up from his usual sober propensity toward depression. Marz often fussed at him for his sullen nature, believing his moodiness to be dull and hideously uninteresting.

Tristan had tried to liven himself up lately; at least he complained about Marz and occasionally Corum’s stupidity less often, and he tried his best to act like he enjoyed being stupid along with them. But feeling comfortable enough to let loose completely was a drug he had yet to fully indulge in. Until then, he would rely on a little sneak fix here and there, and of course, the ultimate high that came from loving, and being loved by, a person like Marz.

Sudden movement on the bedroll instantly snagged his attention, dragging his thoughts away from the recent past. He crawled anxiously to the side of his awakening lover and stared down into his face. A wide, almost delirious smile spread over his own face when Marz opened his eyes, though just barely so. Willingly, he let himself be pulled down, until they were resting comfortably together.

Tristan drew his hand around Marz when he laid his head on his shoulder, and began gently stroking his back. The air was thick with heat and cigarette smoke, the camp outside startlingly quiet. His fingers moved slowly, almost listlessly, while Marz was speaking.

“I must have been really tired.” Still tired, Tristan thought, to sound as he did—like someone who’d never spoken before, a mute discovering his voice. “What the hell were we doing before I passed out on you, and why does it smell so awful in here?”

“You were dying,” Tristan answered immediately, his own voice calm and almost far-away sounding. “The dark mage tried to steal your magic, and you almost died.” He kissed his forehead, only slightly smiling now. “Tia helped me save you. Val said you were in a coma, but you came back, before you died, because I told you that you couldn’t go.”

There was silence between them, from Tristan because his thoughts were still wandering aimlessly, and Marz, probably because he was still very, very weary. Tristan stared at the ceiling of the tent, blinking up at the smoke as it curled around in different shapes before his eyes. He knew they were just tiny hallucinations, but he still felt strangely fascinated by them.

“If you die,” he said at last, very softly, “Will you come and visit me in my dreams?” It was a comforting, almost vivid thought, and oddly enough containing none of the grief he’d previously felt earlier when Marz had been stricken by the coma. “You’ll have to hurry, so you can stop me before…before I….”

The sentence died off his tongue, not because he was afraid to finish it, but because he didn’t know how. For the moment, he couldn’t figure out what would happen should he one day lose Marz the only way he really could—through death. It confused him in a happy way, and he continued to stare at the smoke on the ceiling, only half-waiting for an answer to his peculiar question.

~*~*~*~*~

Rowan held Tia in his arms for several long minutes before finally coming to his senses. Carefully, he got to his feet, clutching her to him, and carried her to the nearest empty tent. She positively reeked of the foul smoke in Marz’s tent, but the smell didn’t bother him in the slightest. It had felt great to be kissed by her, with such spritely determined vigor, the way he loved to be kissed by a woman. He was glad they’d had that talk a while ago to, because in his mind at least, there was no longer any doubt concerning what each of them wanted from the other, as well as what they were each willing to give to one another.

Gently, he laid her down on the soft pallet, brushing her hair out of her face while pushing a pillow up under her head. His eyes lingered on her scantily clad body much longer than a gentleman’s ought to, taking in the delicious sight of the material clinging to the various parts of her that always managed to charm him without realizing it. Sighing, he found a light, cotton blanket and spread it over her, pulling it up to just below her shoulders before tucking it in on the sides.

Rowan didn’t consider himself a gentleman, by any means, despite the pedigreed blood supposedly running through his veins. His blood was just as red as anybody else’s, and spilled as easily too, as well he knew. But Justin’s comment about Tia owing him for the whiskey left him feeling a bit uneasy. He was loath to leave her alone, dressed as she was, while sleeping off her intoxicated little head.

Instead, he lay down beside her, curling up on his side and fixing his blue eyes longingly on the figure beside him. Thoughts of the two of them doing more than just sleeping side by side filled his head, bringing awake urges within him that were hard to snuff out.

Again and again, he ran the scenario over in his head of them sharing an intimate relationship while remaining good friends, but he wasn’t so sure of the outcome. Brief little love affairs always ended with a few bickers and squabbles, and the cold promise to keep in touch which was naturally never fulfilled. Rowan only assumed a friendly acquaintance with his past lovers after several years had passed, several months at the very least.

He wasn’t so sure he really wanted to just toss his friendship with Tia up in the air or not. But whether he wanted to anymore obviously wasn’t an issue. His attraction to her was growing too strong to be ignored for much longer—and Rowan was not used to ignoring his natural urges. He’d just have to lull her into his arms for a few nights and see what happened afterward. It never once entered his head that he should maybe fall in love with her. He never counted on being that lucky again.

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