#also i hope i got jamie right EEE i love them. they're iconic

[trvelyans-archive]

wanting

for @goblin-deity <3 adam and jamie being Babies !!! bc they are Babies !!! and i hope you enjoy !!!

-

The Detective’s hand was so soft.

How was it so soft?

Adam sighs, pushing his fingers through his hair impatiently as he stares at the dummy in front of him. In the four days that have passed since the carnival – and those four days have felt very long, even for a vampire who has lived 900 years – Jamie’s hand, the one Adam held, is all he can think about. It was so much softer than his own, so much smaller – so much stronger, too, at least in that moment, his fingers clinging onto Adam so tightly that he thought that Jamie would never let go. Like his fingerprints would be etched into Adam’s skin forever.

(Not that Adam would mind that.)

He’s has never thought much about his own hands. They’re big, wide – they can lift things, hold things together, and hit things hard enough to be sufficient in a fight. He doesn’t think much about his hands because he doesn’t need to, but he hopes that Jamie does. He hopes that Jamie wants to. And then he wonders what exactly Jamie would think about those hands doing.

(Sometimes Adam thinks about what Jamie’s hands would do to him. Sometimes he wonders if they’d still be soft when – if, he reminds himself, if – they touched all the other parts of his body.)

With a grunt, he steps forward and lashes out at the dummy with his fist before following it up with a blow to the stomach. Adam doesn’t have time for this – the Detective was distracting enough before, but now that… well, whatever it was that happened at the carnival happened, he’s going to be even harder to ignore and much harder forget. Which is exactly what Adam should be trying to do, but he can’t.

He grits his teeth and hits the dummy again, frowning hard. He thought that he would never have these feelings again – he hasn’t been with anyone since before he was turned, after all, and the 900 years he’s lived alone have passed by with little in the way of romance – but now that they’ve returned, he doesn’t know how to control them. He doesn’t know what to do to make them stop.

Perhaps there’s nothing he can do. Perhaps he can’t. And there’s nothing Adam hates more than that.

He punches the dummy again and sends it wobbling backwards a second before it topples over, hitting the ground of the training room with a hard thud. Adam growls in frustration, and a moment later, the door opens.

Of course it’s Nate. The very last person Adam wants to see right now.

Usually Adam has little qualms with confiding in Nate – not that he has none, of course – but the last thing he wants to talk about with him is the detective. Nate doesn’t understand. He understands other things, experiences they’ve shared in their times as vampires, but he doesn’t understand this. He couldn’t understand this – Adam’s apprehension, his fear, and most of all, his adoration. His complete and utter adoration for Jamie that feels like it’s straight out of a Shakespearian tragedy, a comparison that Jamie would probably like.

(Adam met Shakespeare. He didn’t like him very much.)

“Hey,” Nate says warmly, sliding into the room and shutting the door behind him. “Working hard or hardly working?” After a pause, he adds to himself, “I think that’s how the saying goes…”

Adam snorts. “Take a guess.”

“I would,” Nate replies, smiling. “But I don’t think you’d like my answer.”

With a sigh, Adam turns to Nate, bending down to grab his shirt and pull it over his head. It does little to help him maintain what’s left of his dignity, but it does enough. “What do you want, Nate?”

Nate shrugs and leans against the door. “Nothing,” he says. “I was just wondering if you wanted to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Adam answers, his words short and clipped. “And – there’s certainly nothing I want to talk about. Unless Agent Murphy needs something, in which case –“

“Adam.” Nate nearly rolls his eyes, but stops himself at the last second. “You can’t keep avoiding this forever.”

“Avoiding what?” Adam asks even though he knows the answer very well.

“Your feelings for Jamie,” Nate says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. As if it isn’t tearing Adam’s heart to shreds. As if it won’t end the way Adam fears it will – as if it won’t destroy him. Because it will destroy him, one way or another.

Adam’s lip curls in a sneer. “Don’t talk about things you don’t understand,” he answers, almost immediately wincing at the defensiveness in his tone.

“I do understand.” Nate takes a step forward, his voice even and measured. “You’re scared of Jamie getting hurt, right? That you won’t always be there to save him?”

That’s exactly what he’s worried about. It’s all he can think about now when he’s not on patrol, especially after what happened with those Trappers outside of the Warehouse a few weeks ago. Still, he wrinkles his nose. “I don’t want to talk about this, Nate –“

“Adam, you don’t know how it will end.”

“I do!” he says. Nate’s eyes widen, surprised at Adam’s outburst, and Adam pauses for a moment to collect himself. “I do know, Nate. The maa-alused woman told me.”

He frowns. “What did she say?”

With a heavy sigh, Adam runs a hand over his scalp. However many weeks it’s been since their first night at the carnival, Sanja’s words echo in his head. He isn’t sure they’ll ever go away. “That even if we… embrace the light, the darkness to come will swallow us both,” he answers. “The darkness, Nate. And if I make it through that and Jamie doesn’t…”

“We’ll take care of him,” Nate assures him, though a sudden shakiness to his voice betrays that he doesn’t seem to entirely believe it himself. “You and me, Rebecca and the team. We’ll take care of him, Adam. We will keep him safe.”

“I would do anything for him,” Adam confesses under his breath. He closes his eyes, the truth nearly crushing him under the weight of it on his heavy heart. “I would do anything, Nate.”

“And I would do anything for you, old friend.” Nate claps his hand onto Adam’s shoulder, squeezing him gently. “Including telling you that you should talk to the detective, whether you want to hear that or not, and that you should let yourself have feelings for him. You should let yourself be happy, even for a little while. You shouldn’t have to deny yourself of these feelings forever. I’ll be there for you every step of the way.”

Adam sighs. “You shouldn’t have to do that,” he says. He doesn’t like relying on people, and he already relies on the team and the detective far too much for his liking. “And I can’t ask you to.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing you didn’t, and good that I’m going to do it anyway.” He smiles at Adam, his dark brown eyes sparkling. “It will be worth it. Go see him.” Before he leaves the room, he turns around on last time. “And, if you’re looking for an excuse, you could try bringing him a drink.”

“Goodbye, Nate,” Adam says, ushering his friend through the door with a tense smile before shutting it behind him.

His smile falters, however, once Nate’s footsteps fade into silence, and he leans against the door and slides onto the ground, pressing his face into his hands. How he let himself turn into such a fool, he’ll never know, but there’s nothing he can do about it now, all things considered. He’ll just have to wait and see what becomes of this – at least what becomes of this before, well, whatever darkness it is that’s awaiting them in the future…

He stays there for a few moments, collecting himself, before he stands up and heads for his room to get ready.

-

An hour later, Adam is standing at the foot of the detective’s apartment building, a to-go cup clutched so tightly in his fist he’s scared it’s going to crush it. That would be unfortunate – he’s wearing his cleanest white shirt, and he could do without spilling a hot drink all over it, especially considering that would require him to embarrass himself before even entering the detective’s home. After a deep breath, he strides up the front stairs and into the building.

His footsteps echo through the empty hallways, and he moves slowly in the direction of Jamie’s apartment, trying to figure out what he’s going to say. He could greet him normally and pretend there’s an Agency matter he needs to discuss with him, but – well, there isn’t, so a lie like that could cause trouble in the near future. He could say he was on patrol and wanted to stop by, but if he was on patrol then he wouldn’t have had time to go and buy Jamie a drink, so that’s out of the question. Or he could say that…

Or he could say that he just wanted to see him. After the carnival, that probably wouldn’t come as much of a surprise.

Either way, he’s knocking on Jamie’s front door before he can think twice about it.

“Hello?” Jamie calls from somewhere inside the apartment.

Even just hearing his voice makes Adam’s knees weak – it’s so familiar, so soft. Just like his hand, and just like the rest of him, probably. Adam shakes his head and clears his throat. “Hello, Detective, it’s…” He sighs. “It’s, uh, Agent du Mortain. I mean – Adam. It’s me.”

Fool.

“Oh!” There’s an awkward pause on the other side of the door and Adam frowns, unsure of how to move forward. “Uh – come in, the door should be open. I’m just changing.”

“Oh.” He closes his eyes. “It’s… Er, it’s fine, I can wait. Outside.”

He should turn on his heel and leave, really. He’s already embarrassed himself plenty.

“Adam.” He can hear Jamie laughing. “Just come in.”

Jaw clenched, Adam grabs the doorknob and reluctantly heads inside.

He’s been here enough to remember the layout. He doesn’t think he will ever forget it. From a tactical standpoint, he has counterattacks and defenses planned for and from every corner of the room – using pieces of furniture, his teammates, and himself as a means to protect the detective. He’s even spent a few distracted, aimless nights going over new tactics with every supernatural he remembers they should prepare for – that Jamie should prepare for, he always reminds himself – but it’s a long list, and he doesn’t always have time to sit down with it like he would like to.

Maybe he’ll do that instead of training whenever he’s frustrated. The Agency doesn’t have enough funds to keep supplying them with new dummies whenever he destroys them.

He places the to-go cup of earl grey on a coffee table and folds his arms over his chest, glancing around the room. It’s nicely decorated, as far as human homes go, but what catches his eye are the pictures on the bookshelves. He hasn’t examined them much before – he’s never felt the need to – but now, standing in the detective’s apartment and waiting for him to finish changing, it’s a very welcome distraction.

There are a couple of pictures of a younger Jamie, one Adam doesn’t entirely recognize at first – he has different hair, a rounder face. None of his current scars. There are a handful of framed theatre pamphlets and pictures to go along with them, as well, including a few of Jamie wearing a lopsided pair of headphones and an even more lopsided smile, and one in the middle of his bookshelf of him and Tina where her grin is wide but his is even wider, despite the harsh lighting of the hospital.

Adam clenches his fist by his sides. His heartbeat is so loud in his ears that he can’t even hear Jamie walking into the room.

“Ah, that’s one of my favourites,” Jamie says, sidling up beside Adam with his dress shirt half-unbuttoned.

Adam frowns. “Why?” he asks. He would never keep a memento of what he assumes to be a painful memory, let alone keep it on display. (Perhaps he’s just upset because he doesn’t like seeing Jamie hurt.)

Jamie shrugs, continuing to try and button up his shirt with one hand while the other grips his cane. “I don’t know,” he answers. “I just like it.”

He’s told them about the accident a few times before. He talked about it with Adam the day he drove him home after the carnival when he was nearly falling asleep in the passenger seat. It’s part of the reason Adam asked him to text him or call him whenever Jamie drives home from the Warehouse, especially at night – Adam can’t help but worry.  He turns to him with a response but can’t get the words out before his eyes catch on Jamie’s fingers, struggling to finish up with the last few buttons of his shirt.

“Here,” he says in an effort to distract his mind from wandering. “Let me.”

Jamie glances towards him. “Are you sure?” he asks.

Adam stalls for a moment before nodding. “Unless you have an issue with that, in which case–“

“No,” Jamie says hurriedly. “No, I don’t mind at all.”

Adam tries to ignore the other man beaming. If he doesn’t, he’ll do something he might regret.

(Though now, with Jamie in front of him, it’s hard to regret anything. Anything leading up to this point and anything that’s going to come after.)

“So,” Jamie says, clearing his throat as Adam works slowly at his buttons. “Did you need something?”

“Hm?”

“You don’t usually drop by without texting me first,” Jamie continues. “Or, uh, getting Felix to do it.”

“Yes, well…” Adam purses his lips. He hadn’t expected that he would have to explain himself so soon, but tries not to let himself panic. (Which he shouldn’t be doing, because he’s not a man who panics. Adam du Mortain has nothing to panic about.) “I was on patrol, and thought I would stop by to check on you.”

“Mason usually patrols at this time, doesn’t he?”

Damn. That’s true. And Adam would have no reason for taking Mason’s shift – Jamie would know that very well. He pauses for a moment, considering. “Yes,” he says, “but –“

And then he sighs. “I wasn’t on patrol,” he admits. “I just… perhaps I just wanted to see you.”

“Did you now?” Jamie asks.

Adam would find that entirely un-funny if he weren’t so flustered. “Yes,” he responds simply.

“Is there a reason you came to see me?”

Adam ignores the slight hopefulness in his voice and drops his hands from the other man’s shirt, stepping away from him and gesturing towards the cup. “I brought you… a drink,” he says. It sounds completely pathetic right now, but… perhaps that’s fitting. He feels completely pathetic right now, too, because he’s come all this way and Jamie hasn’t even said anything about what happened at the carnival.

Perhaps Adam should bring it up first…

Jamie bends down to grab the cup, lifts it to his nose, and pulls the lid away. “Oh,” he says, smiling as he sniffs it. “It’s my favourite.”

Adam nods, biting back a smile. The last thing he wants is for Jamie to know how pleased he is by that statement. “Nate said –“

Fortunately, he stops himself before he can finish, but unfortunately, it’s enough that one of Jamie’s eyebrows raises and he looks at Adam curiously.

“You were talking about me to Nate?”

Fool.

Adam splutters. “I –“ He glances away, frowning. “Do you enjoy embarrassing me, Detective?”

“Maybe,” Jamie answers. Adam doesn’t know if he’s joking or not. “But seriously - thank you, Adam, for… bringing me this. Is there, uh…” He exhales. “Is there anything else you wanted?”

Adam swallows the lump in his throat. “As I stated previously,” he begins, “I came to check on you. After everything with the maa-alused, I wanted to make sure that…” He trails off. “Now that I know you’re safe, I should… go.”

He doesn’t want to go, of course, because then he has to go back to the Warehouse, and the last thing he wants to do right now is go back to the Warehouse where he’s sure Felix will be waiting to make fun of him for leaving in the first place. Despite himself, he looks to Jamie, who says, “Or you could stay? It seems like you have something on your mind…”

“I don’t,” Adam responds.

“Yes, you do,” Jamie shoots back. Adam curses to himself. “I can tell.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Adam says defensively.

“Adam.”

He sighs, his shoulders tensing. “What happened the other night,” he starts uncertainly. “At the Carnival.”

Jamie crosses his arms over his chest, waiting for Adam to continue.

But he doesn’t want to, because then he’ll get confirmation on the detective’s feelings, and if Jamie feels the same way about Adam that Adam feels for him…

Then what?

Adam hasn’t been in a relationship in a long time. He doesn’t know how to be in a relationship. Human courting is so different nowadays. (Especially because they don’t even call it courting.). And besides, neither of them has the time for that, right? It would never work. It could never work.

And he knows that, so what is he doing?

“Yeah?” Jamie replies.

Adam clears his throat. “I don’t know,” he says, casting his eyes downwards. “I suppose I wanted to know your thoughts on it.”

There’s silence from Jamie. Adam glances up to see him biting his lip.

“What are your thoughts on it?” Jamie asks, his fingers running over the back of Adam’s knuckles, up the length of his thumb.

The touch is so soft. Jamie’s hand is so soft. Adam grits his teeth.

“I have none,” he says. It’s a blatant lie, but he doesn’t care how convincing it is at this point.

“That’s not true,” Jamie retorts.

“What are your thoughts, then?” Adam replies in challenge. “Detective?”

“I think you know my thoughts, Adam.”

He winds his fingers through Adam’s and squeezes his hand. Gently, but enough that Adam can feel it. Feel him from where he stands in front of him, hear his heartbeat from where he stands in front of him, the light from a nearby lamp casting handsome shadows over his face that makes Adam’s heartbeat pick up until matches pace.

It’s too much, too fast.

“I… I have to return to the Warehouse,” he says, pulling away and striding towards the door. “I’m glad you’re doing well, Detective –“

“Adam –“

“I will be in contact,” Adam continues, wringing his hands, “when I - when the Agency needs you.”

“What happened to off-kilter?”

Adam pauses at the door, clenching the doorknob hard in his fist.

He is not a soft man. He’s hardened himself to the world. He’s spent the past 900 years looking forward without giving anyone so much as a second glance, and he doesn’t want to hurt the detective. But Jamie has held Adam’s hand twice now, too, and Adam’s seen the way that Jamie looks at him – Adam is not the only one who feels that utter adoration.

It’s worth it. It’ll be worth it. He knows that.

But not now. Not today.

“I can’t talk about this right now,” Adam says finally. “I’m sorry.”

Jamie sighs behind him. “Okay,” he replies.

“But…” Adam turns around. “Another day.”

Jamie’s face lights up with a smile. “Okay,” he repeats. “Another day.”

Adam leaves without any further ceremony, opening the door and hurrying through it as gracefully as he can with his jaw clenched tight, and only when he’s down the stairs and outside once more does he raise his hand and stare down it, his fingers curling in on themselves.

Well, now he’s just going to be even more distracted. You’re a fool, Adam tells himself, running his thumb over his own palm. A fool.

But a soft smile plays on his lips, and it lingers there the whole drive home.