Work Text:
Bobby Hobbes was cooked. Limp. Possibly dead, a man cut down in his prime, a beautiful corpse.
Fawkes sat up beside him. Bobby groaned, "I'm out, Fawkes. I'm done."
"Relax." Fawkes patted his belly. "Don't want you to pass out or anything."
Bobby grunted.
"Never seen your bedroom before." Fawkes swung out of bed and Bobby slitted his eyes, because Fawkes strolling around naked and sweaty was not a sight to be missed, oh no. His hair looked like he'd been licking light switches. His snake was a happy green. There were finger marks on his ass.
Fawkes opened the closet door. "Not organized by color?"
"Costumes and non-costumes." Although he had to admit, he sometimes wore the costume clothes when his laundry was at a critical state, but otherwise, he kept them strictly segregated.
"Huh." Fawkes was kind of funny-looking naked, like a big stick insect, but then he'd twitch a thigh or something and be a big sexy stick insect.
Fawkes strolled over to the dresser and took a hard look. Bobby's fists clenched--that was his stuff, his intimate, most personal stuff--but Fawkes was his partner, that he was, and he already knew him. Knew most everything about him.
"What's this ring?"
Bobby's stomach turned over. There were four rings on his dresser, each in its little velvet box: his wedding ring; his wife's wedding ring; his wife's engagement ring that she returned to him, because it was a family diamond; and the engagement ring he bought for gorgeous Sally Ann when he still thought he had the chance of starting over, which had never been worn.
And Fawkes didn't know about that last one. "Which one?"
"This one." Fawkes sat on the bed and lowered his cupped hand.
It was a chunky gold ring with a big red stone. Hobbes was so relieved he felt like he was levitating. "Oh, that one! That is my high school class ring, my friend."
Fawkes grinned. "You have swords on it."
"Fencing."
"And hands?"
"Judo."
"Dangerous guy."
"Always."
"You ever give this to a girl to wear? You know, to go steady?" Darien tried it on his middle finger, then his ring finger.
Bobby tried to, but... "No."
Darien waggled his ring finger. "Think the Keep would twig?"
Bobby swallowed. "Well, she isn't from around these parts."
"She is not."
"From a land far, far away."
"She is." Darien looked at his hand, raising his eyebrows in turn, then he rolled back into bed.
Bobby snaked his arm around Darien's waist. "I bet Eberts would figure it out, though."
Darien laughed.
THE END.
All comments are welcome.