Title: Curtain's Fall 19/?
Section: II Dress Rehearsal (8/10)
Author: Magpie and Wolfling
Email: magpie@moracle.co.uk and wolfling@sympatico.ca
Show: Buffy
Rating: NC-17
Category: angst, hurt/comfort
Warnings: spoilers up to the end of Chosen
Pairings: Giles/Ethan
Series: Of Old Mystics, sequel to Charades
Summary: The roles have all been filled and the players move into place.

Author Notes: This is the last story of the Old Mystics Series, sequel to Charades. We expect this to be rather long -- long enough that we've developed it into subsections: I Casting Call, II Dress Rehearsal, III Opening Night, IV Grand Finale, and V Encore. Many thanks to Mad Poetess and Wesleysgirl for betaing :) Previous stories in the series can be found http://www.myarseisnotpansy.co.uk/piedm/mystics.html. Thanks to all the people who have sent us feedback.

"Good choice," Ethan said to Ian, as he and Rupert entered the clearing in the woods and quickly appraised the spot Ian had chosen for the ritual.

Were it not for the circumstances, for the strain that threatened to topple everything -- every*one* -- Ethan held dear, he'd actually be looking forward to this. To do magic with Ian, wild and far-reaching magic -- it felt almost as if Ethan was about to reclaim his soul.

Ian grinned at him with knowing eyes. "I scouted out likely places when we first arrived. Rather unsurprisingly -- given your family history, Rupert -- there are quite a lot of locations that offer that extra-sensitivity to magic."

Ethan wandered closer to the large ant mound that dominated the woodland floor here amongst the beech trees. It looked almost like a hillock of sawdust, only it was redder, fiery coloured, and the surface was moving. "Perfect," he murmured, instinctively twisting the patterns of the ants to go around him. "See this, Rupert? This is Chaos in action. The right sort of Chaos, of course."

Rupert came over until he was looking over Ethan's shoulder. He hummed 'The ants come marching' as he watched with a bemused expression.

"I'll keep them away from you, dearheart. Never fret. Big little buggers, aren't they?"

"Wouldn't want to have them marching through the kitchen," Rupert replied. He paused. "That isn't going to be part of the ritual, is it? We're not going to end up with a homing ant?"

Ethan snorted. "As the item in question could be in Outer Mongolia for all we know, that wouldn't be very practical now, would it?"

"Although it could be an interesting variant to try some time," Ian mused, as he busied himself with pen and paper.

Ethan was almost buzzing with the anticipation. And hell, he wasn't a guilt-ridden Watcher; it wasn't obligatory to maintain pallbearer levels of moroseness at all times. Magic went better if you were into it, anyway. Joy was not something to feel guilty about; it was a gift... and he was probably protesting too much, but even so, he was right.

He grinned over at Ian. "Want some help remembering it all?"

Ian wrote down a couple more lines then handed both paper and pen to Ethan. "I do believe I got it all, but feel free to check my work."

Ethan skimmed through Ian's writing; he did seem to have included everything they'd been able to discover about the crystal and its creation. There was nothing Ethan needed to add, unless... hmm. He moved around behind Rupert, using his back to lean on as he added, 'It is required by the Arch-guardians of the Third Millennium to contain the Word of God.'

Ian took it back and looked at what Ethan had added. "Good," he said, nodding with approval. "That kind of prophetic statement always helps sharpen the patterns."

The approval felt good even if his eager reaction to it felt embarrassing. Ethan smiled at Ian. "So, are we ready to begin?"

Rupert stirred. "Where do you want me?"

"With us, to start with. I need to bond our patterns together as I did yesterday, only with Ian's included as well. That way, you can be our anchor, as we're going very deep into pattern." Ethan smirked at Rupert. "I won't start anything dubious between us out here. Promise."

"Not until the spell is completed at least," Ian threw in, deadpan.

Ethan was aware that his chuckle was rather too close to a giggle. He took Rupert's hand in one of his and held the other out to Ian as he backed them away from the ant mound. "Come on, let's make like araldite."

Ian smiled as he took Ethan's proffered hand, blue eyes sparkling with good humour despite the seriousness of why they were doing this.

This part of the ritual was Ethan's to perform, as Ian had never done this sort of thing, Derek dying before he'd had the chance to learn. "Hold each others' hands too," he murmured, closing his eyes. "Circles are good things in any sort of magic."

They did so. He could feel them both looking at him expectantly.

It really was surprisingly easy to weave patterns together now that he knew how, and adding a third person didn't seem to add difficulties. Ethan quickly 'darned' node to corresponding node again and again until the three of them were linked at an intrinsic level.

The impulse to be a little naughty here was strong with the three of them together like this and performing pattern magic. Ethan felt a shiver of excitement go through him, although he resisted acting upon it, opening his eyes again. He felt as much as saw Ian's knowing look shot his way, which was just another indicator that he had woven them all together successfully.

Reluctantly, he let Rupert's hand drop. "You'd better find somewhere to sit down now, dearheart... before I jump on you and demand ravishing."

"Spell first, ravishing later," Rupert agreed, as he headed over and settled on a fallen log. Ian chuckled.

Ethan smiled at Ian, and they made their way back to the anthill, where Ethan picked up the jar from the few items Ian had carried out here. Ian grabbed their page of notes and a box of Swan Vesta. Taking the lid from the jar, Ethan asked, "Ready then, Lord Crow?"

"Ready. You?"

"Completely. Let's do it."

Ian pulled out one of the pink-headed matches and struck it, touching it to the corner of the paper and setting it alight. He pushed the paper into the jar Ethan was holding, and they watched until all of it had burnt to powder.

"Shall I be mother?" Ethan asked, proffering the jar towards the ant mound.

"By all means." Ian gestured dramatically.

Tipping the jar carefully, Ethan scattered the ash over the ant mound. Some of it blew away in the breeze, but enough landed for their purposes. He felt he should say something, the old-school Chaos rituals he'd used for so long had required at least a level of solemnity and rote, but the best he could think of here was, "There you go, girls. Some nice new reading material for you."

Ian chuckled again as he pocketed the box of matches. "Now we wait and see what they have to tell us."

Tossing the jar to the side, Ethan took Ian's hand again and let his vision slip into the first levels of pattern sight. "We haven't worked like this together since you were teaching me how."

"I guess this is where we find out how well you learnt your lessons then, eh?" Ian asked with a smile, as Ethan felt his mentor slip into pattern sight as well.

"I'll follow you, to start with at least."

It was easy to let Ian control their path as they went deeper into the developing pattern the ritual was creating; his touch was deft and practiced, moving their awareness slowly, becoming one with what was happening.

The paths and patterns of the ants were infinitely complex when all the variables were added to a four-dimensional spectrum. The plan wasn't to look for anything in particular within it; they were just allowing whimsy and random luck to take their joined perceptions where they would. Their focus moved, at first slowly, but then increasingly fast.

Ethan was starting to feel just slightly giddy, which only added to the excitement. He squeezed Ian's hand. "This is like the very best rollercoaster," he said a little breathlessly.

Ian squeezed back. "We're just getting started."

And with that, they seemed to dive, plunging headfirst into the array of probability and event that formed the anthill at this level of seeing. It was breath-stealing, mind-expanding, as if they were striding universes as opposed to just watching ants. The nodes shone like stars and made constellations no less potent than the ones above.

Ethan was still passive in their exploration, initiating nothing, receiving everything, but he was getting the impression that Ian wasn't exactly in control himself. They went where the currents and eddies took them, where the dance wove them through the warp and weft of the pattern.

"Better than steering a boat down a one-way river, no?" Ethan said, or at least he thought he'd said it, but he was so deep in pattern that the words themselves became four-dimensional, like ornate beads in the tapestry they travelled.

He must have said them though, as Ian answered. "Warmer, at least." Despite the dry understatement, Ethan knew, could feel, that Ian was as hard and high as he was himself. And how could he not be? Boating on the Thames had been fun, a good jape, but this? This was glorious. Rivers, however old and loaded with history, were very linear things; surface things too in the main.

The patterns of a living, growing, constantly active community of creatures were more complex than every waterway in the world seen together. Although, having said that...

Suddenly the patterns seemed almost to click, like one of those magic eye pictures coming into focus, and Ethan realised what he was looking at. "That's London! Ian, that looks just like an aerial view of London. See, the wiggly line is the Thames."

"Indeed. It looks as if we won't have to make that trip to Mongolia after all."

Ethan snorted. "Really, it's making our big adventurous destiny seem a trifle provincial, isn't it? Will the patterns take us closer, do you think? I don't fancy the haystack and needle picture we currently have."

"Shall we see?" Ian asked, and with that, the roller coaster was off again, swooping and plunging them down and up as they moved ever deeper into the pattern, ever closer to the representation of London.

For a moment, Ethan thought worriedly that they were being taken to the Thames; diving for lost artefacts was something he could assuredly live without. But the motion paused again over what he thought must be Blackfriars Bridge and moved north, just a little way. "Ok," he said slowly, when they didn't start moving again, "we're looking at Fleet Street, I think. Wish we'd brought an A-Z with us. Hmm, Rupert?"

Rupert had been sitting quietly, a silent presence in the back of Ethan's mind as he and Ian rode the patterns. Ethan wasn't sure how much of that wild ride Rupert had been aware of, but he came forward immediately when Ethan called. "Yes?"

"Hold my hand, dearest?" Ethan held out his free one. "Join in the fun." A second or two passed and then Rupert's familiar hand grasped his. "Brace yourself, we're going in," Ethan told him with a giggle he couldn't resist, and he gifted Rupert with full pattern sight.

"Bloody hell," Rupert muttered as he got the full effect all at once. Ian also giggled.

Ethan squeezed Rupert's hand tightly as he felt his husband stagger a little under the brunt of the things he was now seeing. "Just relax. Don't fight it. Surrender to it like you would good sex."

"That's quite an apt analogy in some ways," Ian pointed out. "Have to say it's quite refreshing not to be masturbating, so to speak."

"Never any need to resort to that while we're around, dear crow," Ethan said wickedly. "Now Rupert, see the fattest of the long golden lines?"

"Yes," Rupert replied immediately. "That's the trail?"

"That, I think, is Fleet Street. Orientate yourself before we go in closer. You know this part of London better than I."

Rupert was quiet for a minute as he got his bearings, then made a small sound of surprise in the back of his throat.

"Mmm, what is it?" Ethan asked.

"If I haven't got myself turned around, I do believe we're hovering directly over my secret vault."

He couldn't help it; Ethan let out a bark of laughter. "Take us in deeper if you can, Ian, and if my most darling husband is correct, it's his turn for a spanking tonight."

Ian chuckled and obeyed, threading their way deeper still into the pattern, rushing them down towards the street and then below it.

Ethan felt another giddy thrill as the focus moved underground. The patterns were different here, darker and less frenetic. If above ground had been a rollercoaster, this was the ghost train. He wasn't sure what he was looking at in terms of the anthill, but that didn't matter.

There were darkly glowing tracks -- tunnels -- everywhere, but the centre of their focus seemed to be a chamber of some kind. "Rupert, is that...?"

"It is." Rupert sounded bemused.

"And you never once thought to tell me you were in possession of the item I've been killing myself trying find for days now?" Ethan's chuckle sounded only slightly strained to his ears. "You know, the item that I never actually described to you because I didn't *have* a description."

"I suppose it does explain why that place felt like mine from the moment I found it," Rupert said. "I really was *meant* to find it."

"You know," Ethan said dryly to no one in particular, "I've said it before, but I'm sure if I focus just right, I'll be able to see the strings. They chafe at times. Really."

"It's not strings," Ian said, "so much as you being integral parts of the pattern -- you exist to ensure it continues. It's going to touch you more strongly than it does others."

Ethan saw exactly what Ian meant, but he still thought he should be, at the very least, pissed off with this almost ludicrous turn of events. He really should. But on the other hand, this wasn't, as Ian had pointed out, Outer Mongolia. Or worst still, another dimension. This was somewhere extremely accessible.

Looking at it that way, it was hard to imagine a better result, unless the crystal were to be found lurking in the attic here anyway. Laughing again, as there was no other sensible way to react to this, Ethan asked brightly, "So who's for a trip up to town?"

***

Right. This was it. He was twenty-one and finally a free man, and he was damned if he wasn't going to have *fun*.

Rupert drove down Oxford Street, which with just four shopping days 'til Christmas meant driving slower than he could walk, but he didn't give a toss. The lights were bright, strung across the thoroughfare, and the swarming shoppers seemed exotic and almost outrageously colourful. Ethan could show them all a thing or two about style though.

Ethan. Rupert smiled, imagining his boyfriend's reaction at finding him at the door. He'd got Ethan a present too, but Rupert knew -- felt very confident -- that Ethan's best present would be the boxes and bags in the back of Rupert's clapped out Morris Minor. All his worldly goods. What he'd cared to take, anyhow.

Once he was free of the big shops, driving through Holburn at this time on a Friday night was easy. Rupert motored through the City, hardly seeing the grand old buildings, 'cause the Zep were on the radio, and he was singing his heart out with Robert Plant.

The buildings around him got smaller and dirtier, and then he was there -- Whitechapel and the grotty top floor flat that Ethan had wangled rent-free through some no doubt dubious means that Rupert never had been able to get the whole truth about.

He found a parking spot directly in front of the flat, taking it as another sign that this was the right decision. Not that he needed any signs to tell him that, not anymore, but he couldn't stop making note of them anyway.

Getting out of the car, Rupert grabbed Ethan's gift and one of his bags and headed inside, up the stairs to Ethan's flat.

Their flat now, as long as Ethan hadn't changed his mind.

Something smelled foul on the first floor, but either luck or some cantrip of Ethan's had kept the air clean by the third. The door was shut and warded, but Ethan's wards didn't keep Rupert out any longer; hadn't done for a long time now. Should he go straight in, or should he knock and make this more... formal?

For a brief moment, Rupert surprised himself by worrying what he might find inside. What if Ethan, thinking himself Rupert-free until the New Year, had found himself some easy company? Rupert shook his head, dismissing that thought as highly unlikely, but still, he wasn't quite able to shake the sudden case of nerves as he made his decision and knocked on the door.

He only became aware that he'd been hearing music at a low register when it stopped. There was a pause, and then Ethan swung the door open in a hurry. "Rupert!" He was grinning, but obviously confused. "I thought..."

"That I would be spending Christmas at home? I am." Rupert paused to take a breath before continuing. "Here. If the offer's still open...?"

"You're here for Christmas? The whole of it?" Ethan either couldn't or simply wasn't bothering to mask how happy that made him. He moved back into the room. "What have I done to deserve such a brilliant present? Or... should I ask what have *they* done?"

"Nothing," Rupert was quick to assure him as he stepped into the flat. "Or nothing that isn't the usual at least." He put Ethan's present down on the table and his bag on the floor. "I just made a decision about where I wanted to be."

Ethan was getting his composure back now, although Rupert knew him well enough to spot the spring in Ethan's step as he walked up and looped his arms around Rupert's neck. "And me without even a box of crackers in for the hols. We'll have to do a quick spot of lifting, my dear."

It was obvious that Ethan hadn't heard or hadn't taken in quite what was happening. Rupert grinned and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's waist. "Certainly. Crowds should make it easy. But first you need to help me unload the car, bring all my stuff up."

A slight crease appeared between Ethan's brows. He was completely clean of make up, something Rupert didn't get to see all that often. "Don't tell me you've brought your homework with you?" But by the look that Ethan was now giving him, Rupert knew the other boy was starting to suspect... but perhaps not quite daring to believe.

"Not much point in that, considering I withdrew from Oxford," he said, as casually as he could manage, watching Ethan's expression closely.

"Wh..what? Rupert, are you..." Ethan was tense in his arms, his expression almost blank. This wasn't the reaction Rupert had been hoping for. He knew that expression, or rather the lack of it. Any moment now, Ethan would be pulling away and engaging in brittle sarcasm.

Trying to head that off, Rupert caressed Ethan's cheek and asked, "That offer to share still good?"

Ethan's eyes flicked shut. "Tell me you mean it." Barely audible at all.

"It's not a joke, Ethan," Rupert assured him. "I'm not just here for Christmas. I'm here for good. If you'll have me."

Ethan's eyes opened again and stared intensely at Rupert for a few seconds. "If I'll have you?" Then a ridiculously broad grin cracked Ethan's impassivity. "Well, maybe. But you'll have to ask very nicely."

"Brat," Rupert said fondly.

Ethan, who always had been able to run the entire gauntlet of emotions in five minutes flat, was now bouncing on his toes excitedly. "You mean it? Really mean it?"

"The amount of stuff you're going to have to help me haul up here should be enough to convince y--"

He didn't finish what he was saying as suddenly he was trying to talk into Ethan's lips, now glued to his own. This was more the reaction he'd been expecting -- hoping -- he'd get. Rupert pulled Ethan closer and kissed him back with all the conviction in him.

Ethan writhed and pushed against him, and Rupert fondly imagined Christmas was about to come early. But then Ethan pulled back, his eyes avid. "We'll have to rearrange things. This is your place now, as well as mine. You'll need areas that are just yours. And we'll have to nick some paint, and fix the leaking pipe, and--"

Rupert couldn't help but laugh and kiss Ethan again, the only way to cut off the stream of words long enough to say something himself. "How 'bout we start with bringing my things up, and then we can talk about rearranging and nicking and fixing and painting and shagging and all of that?"

Ethan grinned happily, but managed to calm down enough to say only, "Shagging? I believe you may be taking me for granted, Rupert, and you've only lived with me for, oh, a minute at the most."

"You saying there's not going to be shagging?" Rupert asked with a grin of his own, as he took Ethan's hand and headed for the door, leading him out of the flat.

"Oh, I may deign to allow you access to my arse. If you ask nicely enough. And that includes simply pushing me into the nearest wall and taking what you want, of course." Ethan chuckled. "Be rude to refuse a request as thoroughly made as that."

And didn't that bring to mind some lovely mental images? "After we get my stuff up, we'll see what we can do." Rupert tossed a wicked grin over his shoulder at Ethan as they made their way down the narrow stairs. "Your arse can be my housewarming gift."

That provoked a definite giggle from Ethan. "I'll have to steal the bow from that interesting looking present you put down on the table. Stick it on my back pocket." His grin became grimace as they hit the stench on the first floor. "What *is* that old bastard doing in there? Oh, I really don't want to know. Renova aeram!"

An incongruous gust of wind blew down the stairwell as Ethan gestured, lifting debris as it passed. The air smelled much sweeter once it was gone.

"That's a new trick," Rupert observed, filing away the words and gesture and what he could sense of Ethan's magic to try it himself later.

"Needs must. The smell was encroaching into my space." There was a pause as they reached the front door, and then Ethan corrected himself happily. "*Our* space."

"That's not going to be a problem, is it?" Rupert suddenly wondered. "Me encroaching on your space?"

"My spaces -- all of them -- are yours, dear." Ethan smirked at him then opened the door.

"All of them?"

"Ears need syringing? I said all." Ethan sauntered out through the small courtyard to the street.

Rupert followed, stopping behind his car and opening the boot. "Might just have to test that out."

Ethan slinked around behind him, standing very close despite the returning shoppers and outgoing clubbers wandering through the street. "Am I to be an experimental subject? How thrilling."

"Oh, trust me, it will be," Rupert assured him, lifting a box of books out of the boot and handing it Ethan... who immediately nearly dropped it.

"You have a collection of lead weights! How... novel."

"I did, but I left them behind. That's just a few books I thought we could use." Rupert grinned wolfishly. "My father will have apoplexy when he realises I took them."

Ethan's eyes widened, and he tightened his hold on the box. "*Those* sort of books? Oh, we're going to have the best sort of Christmas. Really, we are."

Rupert pulled out another box then closed the boot again, so nothing would go missing when they made the trip back up to the flat. "Yeah, we are. We should decorate -- nick some garlands, maybe a piece or two of mistletoe..."

"There's a tree outside Swantons down on Copfield," Ethan remarked as they headed back inside. "The old git's in hospital; he doesn't need it."

"We going to nick a goose and all the fixings too?" Rupert asked with a smile as they headed back the stairs.

"Well, I know where there's a chicken, at least. You, um, know how to pluck?"

"Ah. I s'pose I could figure it out, but why don't we splurge and go out for a proper meal? I've got a bit of bread I've been saving up, can afford for us to go somewhere posh."

"On Christmas Eve? That--" Ethan balanced the box on his hip long enough to move his hand within the wards outside his door, then pushed the door open with his arse, beaming at Rupert. "--would be smashing!"

"Right then. That's what we'll do." Rupert looked around, finally settling on putting his box down over in the far corner.

When he straightened up, he saw Ethan was still holding his box back by the door, looking suddenly uncertain.

"What is it?" Rupert asked, walking back over.

Ethan's cheek twitched as he attempted a smile. "Nothing, dear. Where do you want this?"

"I probably should be asking you that." He took the box from Ethan. "Your space I'm moving into, don't want to run roughshod over it."

"No." Ethan shook his head. "Take what you need. I can rearrange my own things. It's just junk -- most of it, anyway."

Rupert frowned and put the box down so he could wrap his arms around Ethan instead. "It's your things. Therefore, by definition, not junk."

Ethan's cheek twitched again. "None of it matters. Not compared to..."

"To...?"

Ethan just smiled and fidgeted, finally laying his forehead on Rupert's shoulder.

There were times when Rupert felt like he knew everything Ethan was thinking or feeling, and there were other times when the boy was a complete mystery to him. "Talk to me, love," he bade gently.

There was a lot more fidgeting and then an evasive, "What do you want to know?"

"Everything." The word, heartfelt, slipped out without thought. Rupert slid a hand up to toy with the hair at the nape of Ethan's neck. "But I'll settle for now for why the smiles disappeared."

"I'm smiling," Ethan said to Rupert's shoulder. "Shall we leave the rest of the boxes 'til later?" He wriggled enticingly against Rupert.

Rupert's body was quite enthusiastically in favour of that plan; however, his mind was still working on the puzzle of Ethan's mercurial emotions, especially since Ethan was still not meeting Rupert's eyes. "Of course," he replied. "If you tell me what's eating you first."

Ethan pulled back and smiled, although it looked a bit forced. "I'm happy. Truly. This will be my best Christmas ever."

Rupert believed that Ethan was telling him the truth, but there was still something underneath, something that was shadowing the joy in Ethan's eyes. It didn't look like Ethan was about to tell him what it was however, and indeed, Rupert recognised one of his boyfriend's favourite avoidance tactics as Ethan leant back in and flicked his tongue over Rupert's lips.

"Ethan..." Rupert murmured, not sure if he was going to ask him to stop or to continue.

"Mmm?" The tongue darted in and out of Rupert's slightly opened lips.

Rupert was rapidly losing his train of thought. "You..."

"Need a good shagging. Quite correct, dear." Ethan grinned at him before moving to nibble on the side of Rupert's neck. Rupert felt hands sliding down over his arse and back up again as Ethan moved sensually against him.

"But..." For the life of him, Rupert couldn't at that second think of any reason why he shouldn't shag Ethan then and there.

"Let me show you how happy I am that you're here?" Ethan suggested, making it very clear with his body the sort of thing this would entail.

Giving in -- not that there had ever been any serious chance of him not doing so -- Rupert kissed Ethan quite thoroughly then pulled back with a smile. "Show me then."

Ethan pouted seductively and began to dance to a slow, slow beat. He held Rupert by the waist, rubbing against him with every swing of his hips. "This is the long version," he said. "Do say if you'd prefer edited highlights."

"Perhaps another time." Rupert slid his hands down to cup Ethan's arse. "But I think I want the full unabridged edition right now."

"You wish is, as always, my command. Oh, by the way, Deirdre -- you know, my fag-hag friend? -- well, she gave me a present." Ethan languorously moved his hands down to cup Rupert's arse in turn and then slowly thrust their hips together. "I opened it already, of course."

"Impatient," Rupert teased, nuzzling lazily along Ethan's jawline. "So what did Deirdre get you?"

"It's called 'Starfield Express'." Ethan giggled, but didn't pause in his slow thrusting. "She's very naughty. You'll have to spank her for me."

"If I start spanking everyone who's naughty... well, *you'd* wear my hand out without us ever leaving the flat."

Ethan chuckled against Rupert's ear. "Well, I'm not going to spank her. You saw what she was like -- hands everywhere. Good present though. You'll like it."

"Oh?" That sounded... promising. "What is it?"

Ethan nibbled Rupert's earlobe for a few moments before pausing to say, "Luxury lube. With... added components."

Oh yes, very promising indeed. But curiosity led him to ask, "And these added components are...?"

That made Ethan laugh again. "Your guess is as good as mine; the packaging isn't exactly informative. But Deirdre says the bloke she got it from promised it was 'extraordinary'."

"So we really are experimenting then." Rupert chuckled. "Where is this mysterious luxury lube?"

"By the bed, of course." Ethan pulled back and took Rupert's hand. "We'll have to get a proper one now. Bed, that is."

"We'll put it on the to-nick list. But I do have a certain fondness for this old mattress here." He pushed Ethan down on it. "Where I first had you, after all."

"Yeah," Ethan said, with a smile both happy and hungry. He moved his hands down to Rupert's jeans and began to unbuckle. "History was made here. We have a historical mattress." He chuckled. "Old enough to be an antique anyway.

Rupert pulled off his jumper then started pulling up Ethan's tops as well. "Historical and momentous shags, that's our specialty."

Ethan's hands stopped moving briefly as he stared up at Rupert, clearly lost in thought again, but then he startled back into action, divesting Rupert of his jeans and pants rapidly. "Still can't quite believe you're here. I was resigned to not seeing you until January."

"Yeah, well, I wanted to surprise you," Rupert said, dropping his hands and eyes to the fastenings on Ethan's jeans and pants. He didn't add that he hadn't told Ethan because he'd been unsure if he'd be able to gather the courage to actually leave until he'd done it.

Lying very still suddenly, Ethan spoke with a casual tone that was blatantly false to Rupert's perceptions. "Having second thoughts, by any chance?"

"No." Rupert looked up, meeting Ethan's eyes. "None. This is where I want to be."

Ethan smiled softly, but asked, "And tomorrow? And next week?"

Rupert nodded. "And next month and next year. When we're old men of fifty, I'll still want to be with you." He spoke with all the conviction in his heart; nothing had ever meant so much or been so clear.

Ethan's eyes widened and then shut tight, almost as if he'd caught the moment and was now trying to hold onto it. "Something's going to go wrong," he said in a strange voice. "I'm happy. Really happy. It can't last, you know. Life's not that kind. Not my life, anyway."

Rupert caressed Ethan's cheek gently, trying to find words to make Ethan feel better. "We're happy now, aren't we?"

After opening his mouth to speak, Ethan shut it again and just nodded. His eyes were still closed.

Leaning down, Rupert kissed him lingeringly before saying, "Can't we just live in this moment? I've spent my whole life being told I had to always prepare for the future, sacrifice the now for the then. That's what I've left. Left to be with you, because that makes me happy." He kissed him again. "*You* make me happy."

Ethan's eyes opened then; they were dark and intense. "Fuck me now, Rupert. Claim your territory."

Rupert grinned wolfishly and then devoured Ethan's mouth until they were both breathless. "Hand me some of that magic lube, love, and I'll claim you so hard you won't be able to walk."

As Ethan did as he was bid, he laughed a little breathlessly. "In which case, going shop-lifting in a wheelchair could prove a barrel of... history and momentousness."

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