#leslieeissott

[thehangeddemon]

Shards, Part II || Charleson & Leslie || July, 2023

Mason/Leslie: The wall between their minds was thin at best, but still present. Charles had been given a glimpse, but deserved peace. Just this half, this terrible half would be hidden, not his entirety. Years of open telepathy had practiced Mason's skill in dividing himself for this very reason. It was all for Charles, and it was better than barring the connection completely.

Leslie had taken to text between entertaining children and washing the piling mess in the kitchen. There was always something to do, but he was trying. Sending updates with dinner, dessert, what he was doing and what he planned to do. Little innocent details to keep Tristan in the loop, waiting for Charles to return downstairs.

Charles: For a moment, he'd carved out a sliver of peace. Nightmares still threatened at the fringes of his mind, but with the familiar heat and scent of his husband so close, Charles managed to slip into a doze.

Light though it was, his sleep was blessedly dreamless. He might have made it through the night, if the drugs he'd taken had not worn off. He shifted, and pain lanced up his side, spurring from sleep. He let out a ragged gasp and sat up.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," he whispered, fearing he might have disturbed Mason's rest.

Mason: Mason remained in a state of twilight, eyes closed, breathing deep and steady. All for one man. His chest belonged to him. His arm around his husband's shoulders, kept safe, if not for reality creeping in.

"Baby, don't do that." He pressed a kiss into his temple and sighed.

"Either I'm gettin' ya medicine or I'm findin' that witch." He was simply too tired to bother with a name.

Charles: "I just didn't mean to wake you." If he'd already done so, there was really no need to whisper. Still, he kept his voice low. The peace was fragile.

"Let's not bother Leslie." He'd done so much already, and as dearly as Charles loved him, that bone mending had been... difficult. Better to let his ribs heal the old-fashioned way.

"I'll call for Hank to bring something. Please stay." For Mason's sake, as much as his own.

Mason: Mason cracked his eyes open, breathing deep and slow but having nowhere for his disapproval to go. He didn't want to hear his husband scream again, but whatever horrors the witch gave, peace followed.

But the part of his mind open to his beloved knew that path was now closed.

"Hurry back."

Charles: He wasn't going anywhere. Not really. He shifted gingerly to the edge of the bed, masking a wince and a groan as he moved. No sense in causing undue worry. Mason hadn't slept for nearly long enough.

His mind brushed Hank's cautiously at first, but the beast of a mutant was just as on edge as everyone else he loved, it seemed. A silent request, one that was answered in the affirmative. He waited from his perch on the mattress until the soft knock sounded.

He inhaled deeply as he rose. It was the only sound he'd allow himself, even as he shuffled his way to the door. He opened it just a crack, thanking Hank in low tones before shutting it with a click.

He wanted to wash down the little white pill with a glass of scotch. But that was a terrible idea, and the thought of walking all the way to his study put it fully to rest. He swallowed it dry and eased back onto the mattress.

Mason: Mason was sitting up with his back to the headboard by the time Charles returned. Hands on his thighs, waiting patiently to invite him back to the warmth of his chest. He would lay however he was required for the telepath to rest.

Apologizing was a waste of words at this point. The obvious was there out in the open. I should have been there. I should have found you sooner. I should have done more. But logic was soap, and guilt ink on his skin.

"Want me t'lay back?"

Charles: "You're supposed to be asleep." Not a scolding. There simply wasn't enough heat behind it. He was too tired, and Mason was a beacon in the dark, despite his position.

"Please," he agreed, inching slowly and carefully toward that warmth.

Mason: Then back he would go. As flat as Charles desired. Little different than fluffing a pillow. Much as Lawrence had tended to him hours ago, his arm was open, and warm around his shoulders. Same love language, same soul.

"Leslie's lookin' for Kurt," he mumbled.

Charles: He sank against him. It was nearly as soothing as sinking into a hot bath. Only thing better would be a bath together. It was an appealing thought, but he was just so drained.

"Yeah? Does he need to go home?" It would make sense. Tristan must have been worried sick. Guilt tugged at him to consider it. He needed to find some way to thank his little rescue team, and those closest to them. Something to think about later. Too much for his head to wrap around, now.

Mason: His mouth opened, letting an exhale escape between his lips. He wanted - no, he wouldn't. Saying what he had felt would only sour the carefully constructed atmosphere.

"He's found him. Rec room." He turned his head, burying his nose in dark tresses.

"He'll be up to say goodbye in a minute."

Charles: "All right." Charles had no intention to move. His bad manners would have to be forgiven. He pressed his lips to Mason's chest.

"What is it?" Because of course he hadn't missed that. "What's on your mind? Talk to me."

Mason: "It's not for me t'say, now is it?" It wasn't his thoughts, but the very subject now making his way upstairs.

Charles: Charles would wait for Leslie's knock as well, but he'd make no effort to leave the bed, only sit up enough to look at the door.

"Come in."

Leslie: The door opened with a crack. Strawberry blond hair sticking through, a blond five o'clock shadow finally making an appearance.

"Hey."

Charles: "Hey." He managed a small smile, for Leslie's benefit. He must have been as tired as any of them. "Heading home?"

Leslie: "Yeah. Couldn't go without saying goodbye. You need anything?"

Charles: "Not at all. Thank you so much, Les. For absolutely everything. Go home and get some rest. Apologize to Tristan for me?"

Mason/Leslie: "Only one who needs to apologize is me. Don't start - "

"We're workin' on it. Go home."

At least there they could agree. With a wave of his hand, the door closed behind him with a click.

Charles: He'd had his mouth open to offer a retort when he was interrupted. He was still too tired to scold, but it was a near thing.

"Bye! I'll ring you tomorrow."

He fell back against Mason's chest with a huff and a wince. Never mind. He could scold a little bit.

"You should have let me finish. He dropped everything for us. He shouldn't feel the least bit guilty."

Mason: "Mhm." This was a non-argument simply because Mason had his eyes closed, his muscles relaxed, and his head - he was attempting to empty it. It wasn't an argument because he didn't care about the witch enough to defend him. He just wanted Charles to rest.

"Ya want Gina brought here?"

Charles: Now he definitely didn't have the energy to scold any more. He pressed his cheek to that warm chest and sighed.

"I... why? I'm not opposed, or anything. I just don't know why she'd want to be here."

Mason: "'Cause Lawr won't shut the hell up about her, n'it'll be my turn, next."

It was an uncomfortable subject to broach, be it now or next week, but Lawrence held a prediction in his grasp, and Mason had an inkling of its accuracy.

Best to know now, so Lawrence could prepare his family for visits.

Charles: That felt... unfair. Gina was a lovely woman, but she hadn't been taken. Hadn't been... still too fresh. Too much. He couldn't fathom Mason being out of reach for an hour, let alone days at a time. He could feel his pulse begin to race at the thought, ridiculous tears burning his eyes. What was wrong with him?

He shut his eyes before they could fall and took a steadying breath. "I'm... That's fine. She can come. I don't... It's fine."

Mason: That was all they needed. All Mason was willing to tolerate. He couldn't squeeze his husband as tightly as he'd prefer, but he could cradle him. For now, until he was strong enough to sleep on his chest without wincing, as he was meant to.

"It's fine. It's fine," soothed the demon.

Charles: Even with that gentle soothing, it took a while for his breathing to slow, and his heart to follow. His hands eventually stopped their trembling. He still felt like weeping, but he suppressed the urge. If he started, he didn't think he'd be able to stop. Hadn't he cried enough in the morgue?

Oh. Not the place he needed to revisit. He forced it away. Forced away everything but the steady rise and fall of his husband's chest.

"I'm sorry."

Mason: He could tell him again to stop. He didn't need an apology. He didn't want one, and Charles didn't deserve the guilt. But, there were times, he knew, when you just needed to say it. The catharsis outweighed the logic.

The record player across the room came to life. Chopin. Nocturnes. The record scratched to life. He kissed his husband's hair.

"Quiet."

Charles: There really weren't words to describe the depth of his love. It could only be felt.

The music soothed his frayed nerves. Blocked out the worst of the dark thoughts.

He did cry, then. A raw purge of everything he'd held onto since waking. His tears were blessedly silent. They might have gone unnoticed, if not for the sheer volume of them, and the way they shook his battered frame.

He wept until there was nothing left but Mason, and the gentle music. He was completely spent. He could probably sleep for three days.

[wildroseofarran]

"Meg is right around the corner. If it were a two-week vacation I'd say Hazel and Clive." He'd yet to let go of Tristan's hand. He was suddenly biting his lip. Mischievous look in his eyes.

“Meg it is. I’ll give her a call later and set it up.” Knowing his mother, she’d be thrilled to have the girls to herself for a few days.

That look had Tristan squinting while a slow smile began to play at his lips. “What?”

[thehighlandhealer]

Leslie had no experience cooking for anyone pregnant, but he assumed something light wouldn't do any harm. Especially with how she was feeling. Some breakfast in bed, complete with orange juice.

In the meantime, he would tend to her garden, write various spells from his grimiore, and excuse himself for an hour-long phone call with Tristan. The next day, Torsten barred the witch from the kitchen, already impatient for him to leave.

So, Leslie made himself at home at the foot of her bed, ready to once more go over the ritual.

Although Bronwyn ate whenever food was put in front of her and drank whenever liquid was offered to her, she wasn’t fully present. When she wasn’t staring at the little root she’d yet to let go of, she was staring off into space, her mind a million miles away.

Ava couldn’t tell if she was processing her situation or already grieving again, but looking at Bronwyn made their ritual--and the spell she’d need to come up with afterward--all the more imperative. She couldn’t allow Bronwyn to wither away.

Bronwyn tried to smile at Leslie while Avalbane cleared her plates away. “I’m sorry about Torsten. He’s...protective.” She adjusted her covers. “The milk should be here soon. Is the dish okay?”

She nodded to the bowl on her bedside table. It was shallow and white with flowers painted on the china. Something pretty and happy.

[wildroseofarran]

"Starting to sound romantic." It had from the beginning, but the pearl was the cherry on the cake.

He took Tristan's hand between his own and squeezed. Back on his feet. Maybe for five minutes, he could feel something other than restless.

Tristan laughed. "Then I guess we should be calling it R&R&R. Romance, rest, and relaxation." He knew the odds of actually making good on that pearl promise were slim but it wasn't really about that. This little getaway was about breaking their routine and helping Leslie.

"So what do you think? Meg's or Hazel and Clive's for the girls?"

[wildroseofarran]

Hadn't it been obvious? Wasn't that what this little game was about? Well, shit. He just shook his head and sniffed the box of tea.

"Nothing. No one."

Kelly squinted at Leslie over the rim of his glass. “Either you’re being weird today or I woke up dense.”

Or, though he’d never acknowledge it, his ability to compartmentalize was getting concerning.

[wildroseofarran]

"Do you just wanna hear me say his name?" asked carefully.

Kelly frowned in genuine confusion. “Whose?”

[wildroseofarran]

Fiend. Of course Leslie wasn't going to say no to food. He was back by Kelly's side looking rather sheepish.

"A certain someone went on about it. That's all."

Of course he wasn’t, and Kelly knew it. He was an observant man, after all.

“About tea?” He poured Leslie a drink as a consolation prize. “Who?”

[wildroseofarran]

"Oh look, a window!" He would just see himself out.

Kelly chuckled and shook his head. “Not being forthcoming, huh? That’s not very festive of you. Guess you don’t want your cutting board or the casserole Pete’s sister asked me to give you.”

[wildroseofarran]

"This isn't giddy. I'm not giddy. Promise! Just... I like tea."

Kelly gave a good-natured sigh. “You’re a crap liar, Leslie. Out with it, come on. You wouldn’t have mentioned it for no reason.”

[wildroseofarran]

Time to bite his cheek. "I'm not smiling. I'm not!" Well, now he was.

Kelly pointed at Leslie’s face. “What’s that then? Why’s tea making you all giddy?”

[wildroseofarran]

Kelly gets a cheek kiss for Christmas. Alright, also a box of personally mixed and blessed tea as well.

"To help you sleep. I hear you drink a lot more tea lately." Now if Leslie could just keep his smile to himself.

Both would be accepted with Kelly’s usual sedate smile. “Thanks. Remind me to give you the cutting board I made you. I keep forgetting.”

“Not really.” The wolf squinted. “What’s that smile for, Leslie?”

[wildroseofarran]

There. Tristan had earned a laugh. "All of that and more. We'll bring wine, and whiskey. Fish the old-fashioned way." A pause. "Go for a midnight swim."

“All of that and more,” Tristan echoed, going in for a proper kiss. “We’ll bring stuff to make a giant charcuterie platter too.”

As for the midnight swim…

The suggestion wasn’t unwelcome. It didn’t dim Tristan’s eyes or dull his smile. He’d made his peace with what he was in his own tentative way after they’d paid Boone a visit.

He nodded. “We will. I’ll dive down and get you a pearl.”

[wildroseofarran]

Leslie closed his eyes to the kiss. Seemed to be Tristan's favorite place for affection. He sighed, and tried to push every negative, self-pitying thought to the back burner.

"Next week, then."

Tristan wouldn’t deny that. He loved the shape of Leslie’s mouth. It was one of the most attractive things about his witch’s face.

“It’s a date. We’ll practice magic, get in a little R&R, make love under the moonlight. It’ll be great.”

[wildroseofarran]

His smile faltered a moment. "I'm booked for the next three months. We'd have three days at most. Is that enough?"

Tristan nodded. “Three days is longer than you think and besides, your merman is a fast sailor and a magical prodigy.”

He kissed the corner of Leslie’s mouth. “It’s plenty of time.”

[wildroseofarran]

That was the most appealing suggestion he'd heard in some time. His body straightened, eyes widening.

"What about the girls? Your mother?"

“We’ll set the girls up with Meg or your parents. They’ll have a ball.”

Tristan smiled and caressed Leslie’s cheek with his thumb. “You deserve to take some time to do something for yourself. We both do.”

[wildroseofarran]

Tristan was given apologetic eyes. "You really want to learn more spells? It's been a while. Been... caught up with everything else in our lives. Feels like we're falling into a routine."

He nodded and smiled. “I really do.” If Leslie wasn’t letting him be sorry then Tristan wasn’t going to let Leslie be sorry either.

“Then let’s break it. Let’s take a sail somewhere and practice magic. Just you and me.”