I wanna hold 'em like they do in Texas plays {OPEN}

[Tristian]

As Mordred got himself into the car Tristian continued with his lies, “Because Emma asked me too and I am helpful and obliging. They needed a stage manager and what with being a Prince and all and being good at bossing people around she believed I would be quite good at it. She was correct. Seeing girls in their pants was simply a bonus.”

Well it wasn’t a total lie. He did see a lot of other people in their pants.

Getting in beside him, placing his bag down at his feet and shutting the door he said to the driver, “Rose Avenue please, building 13.”

On returning to Tintagel he had decided to move to his mother’s old flat that she had shared with Marian and Merlin, rather than living in the dormitories or doing as his father wished and staying in the frat house. Because his father had wanted it Tristian had decided against it. Not that it mattered, he enjoyed living in his mother’s flat, it was more in keeping with his style. Lot’s of whites and blues. It also meant he had an entire room for a closet (Merlin’s old room) and no annoying roommate to worry about. It meant he could bring whoever he liked back without worrying about someone seeing them and it meant that he could occasionally get dressed up for ‘work’ in advance, rather than having to carry his bag around everywhere.

It was his sanctuary. Thank goodness there was a lock on his closet otherwise he never would have dreamed of letting Mordred crash at his place.

When Mordred mentioned going for his phone Tristian tried to remember if he had been able to pick it up from the table for the two of them had to make their mad dash from the casino…that seemed so long ago now. “First of all, that is a terrible plan, text her in the morning,” said Tristian as the Taxi pulled away from the pavement, “secondly, I think you might have left your phone behind when we were running away from those thugs.”

[Mordred Le Fey]

He glanced down at the bag as Tristian got into the car. It was starting to intrigue him.

"Emma again... so she works on the shows, huh? Well I know what I'm doing tomorrow night..." He grinned looking at Tristian. "I can finally get a glimpse of the famous Miss Emma." He raised an eyebrow. "I mean, I assume she's a miss. You're not being a naughty boy, are you Tris? That's not why you're so secretive?" He grinned. "Wait... is she a teacher?"

He groaned when Tristian said he'd left his phone behind, before leaning forward to talk to the driver. "Go via the casino - I need my phone." He ordered, before sitting back again quickly. The motion of the car was making him feel sick.

He looked at the bag again. "Tris... what is in that bag? You rob a bank or something?"

[Tristian]

“It was a ‘one night only’ kind of thing so if you head back tomorrow she won’t be there,” said Tristian, trying to keep his tone casual, “and no, she is not married, do you really think I would be as clichéd as all that?”

It had been a one night only thing, however the last thing he needed was for Mordred to go back and find out what kind of show it was. He still had ‘back up’ lies if he did and he thanked the goddess that his ‘persona’ was not famous to warrant a billing on the posters, he had made sure of that. When he started going down the road of not being a ‘Miss’ he tensed a little but had relaxed when he went on to ask if she was married or a teacher.

In this situation, that might have been better.

Then he was back to worrying about the phone; Tristian leaned forward to the driver and said, “Just the flat please, thank you.”

He then turned to Mordred and said, “I’ll message Emma when we get in, she can pick your phone up for you and I’ll pick it up off her tomorrow. That way we can go home and you don’t need to get beaten up by thugs again.”

In truth he would just message the actual stage manager, a lovely young man by the name of Todd who seemed very eager to please, and see if he could locate Mordred’s missing phone. Then his attention switched to the bag. Tristian instinctively tightened his legs around it. He couldn’t say ‘nothing’, that would just cause Mordred more curiosity, so he had to come up with something else. Something plausible, something that if Mordred did somehow get a look inside the bag he would have backup.

“Props, for the show,” said Tristian, “and some bits of costume. I said I would take some with me when they were clearing up because it wasn’t going to all fit in one car, I’m supposed to meet up with them tomorrow to give them it back.”

[Mordred Le Fey]

"Hmmm, that's oddly convenient." Mordred tried to focus on his friend, but his vision wasn't too good and there appeared to be three Tristian's sitting next to him in the car. Closing his eyes he tried to focus on not throwing up - it wouldn't be the first time he'd thrown up in a taxi and, for some reason, the drivers never seemed particularly impressed by it. "Are you calling me a cliche?" He muttered, head resting back on the headrest and eyes closed. He was getting tired - the night's exertions, coupled with the cocktail of drugs and alcohol he had taken, were starting to take their toll.

He heard Tristian's suggestion about his phone and made a noise of agreement. "Yeah... I need to text Meredith... need to say... stuff." He muttered, sliding sideways on the seat and landing with his head on Tristian's shoulder. Shifting his position slightly to get more comfortable, he kept his head there, finding Tristian's shoulder surprisingly comfortable.

"I'd never have put you down as a theatre geek..." Mordred yawned, nuzzling slightly into Tristian's shoulder to get comfortable, as he began to fall asleep.

[Tristian]

Was there no end to the torture this boy was going to put him through?

He looked down at the head that was now resting on his shoulder and he was glad that it was dark and Mordred already had his eyes shut because Tristian could not help the find smile that came upon him as he looked on him. It was unfair, it was so terribly unfair and he should just push him off him, get him to rest his head somewhere else but it was just so…nice. Couldn’t he just have this? Couldn’t he just enjoy this moment.

He mentioned texting Meredith and he should, Tristian knew that he should, in the morning when things in his mind would be clearer, but right now, Tristian was happy to let him doze off on his shoulder.

“Well…there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” said Tristian quietly as his friend dozed.

It wasn’t a long journey to the flat, and on the way Tristian had taken his phone out and messaged Todd about Mordred’s phone, although had still faced the screen away from the dozing Mordred just in case he woke up and saw what Tristian was typing. He mentioned to the boy that if he had to trade Tristian’s number for it (if the brute that had stepped in to delay the others was still around and in possession of Mordred’s phone) then that was ok. Todd had responded with a ‘yes miss knightly’. Tristian had then quickly deleted all those texts, just in case.

The taxi pulled up outside the flat and Tristian turned around to Mordred and gently shook him, “hey, we’re here.”

With his free hand he took out his wallet and paid the driver, tipping him generously before turning his attention back to Mordred to help him out the car.

[Mordred Le Fey]

Mordred had fallen asleep more or less as soon as he had gotten comfortable on Tristian's shoulder, and didn't hear Tristian's comment, or see him texting, and was completely unaware of the journey back to Tristian's flat.

The next thing he was aware of was was Tristian gently shaking him, and he opened his eyes, sitting up so suddenly he felt his head spin and his stomach churn.

"Woah..." He muttered, putting a hand to his head. "I am so drunk..."

[Tristian]

“Indeed you are,” said Tristian, helping him out of the car, whilst also slinging his bag over his shoulder.

As he started to urge Mordred towards the front door, he started thinking about what state he had left the flat in before he headed out. The closet was locked, the closet was always locked, filled with all his precious, precious clothes. So that was something he wouldn’t need to worry about. There might be make up lying about but he could explain that away by either using ‘Emma’ or stuff his mother, or Jenny or Genevieve had left behind.

Marian’s old room was out. He was still in the process of having it redecorated (he hoped she would approve) into a guest room, and was filled with different paints he had been trying out on the wall. He sighed as he realised he was probably going to give up his bed for this drunkard…he needed a decent sleep…

He pulled out his keys and opened the door to the flat. A quick glance told him that he had at least tidied up a bit before leaving. Thank goodness.

“Come on, bed time,” he said to Mordred.

[Mordred Le Fey]

He allowed Tristian to help him out of the car, and leaned on him heavily as they made their way to the door of Tristian's flat. Along with the fact that he was paralytically drunk, he was also crashing severely as the various drugs started to leave his system. He wasn't going to be able to stay on his feet much longer.

They made their into the flat and Mordred grinned at Tristian as he told his it was bedtime. "Are you going to put me to bed, Tris?" He grinned at his friend, still hanging off his shoulders. "Will you tuck me in and read me a bedtime story?"

[Tristian]

“You wish,” said Tristian rolling his eyes as he half dragged his friend over to where his room was.

‘I wish’ he thought and tried to ignore the happy feeling in his stomach that those words had given him, because only pain followed them when he realised it was foolish to be hopeful.

Opening the door he all but threw Mordred on to the bed, and before he could muddy up his crisp white sheets with his boots, Tristian walked down to the bottom of the bed and started pulling them off. “Take your coat off, you can’t sleep in that,” said Tristian as he worked on pulling one of the boats off.

Once the coat and the boots were off he would leave him to it, he’d make himself a cup of tea, wallow in self-pity for a bit and then go sleep on the couch.

[Mordred Le Fey]

He fell onto the bed and lay on his back staring at the ceiling, which was dancing in fast circles around his head. He frowned, trying desperately to focus on something to stop it swimming around in front of his eyes, but soon gave up and turned his head, watching Tristian as he pulled his boots of for him. He struggled with his coat, slowly propping himself up on an elbow and pulling his arm out of the sleeve, before falling backwards again and giving up.

He pushed himself up again, and reaching forward grabbed Tristian's shirt and pulled him closer, until Tristian fell down on the bed next to him. He lay with his arm wrapped around Tristain's neck with his hand on his chest, holding him close as he stared at the ceiling again.

"I love you, man." He slurred, as his eyes began to close and he began to drift off to sleep. "Brothers for life..."

He asleep the second the words left his mouth.

[Tristian]

Once Mordred had shrugged off his coat Tristian was about to leave when with some extra burst of energy Mordred grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him back down onto the bed, enveloping him in a bear like hug. After everything that had happened that night he didn’t have the energy to fight him, or at least…that was what he was telling himself. It wasn’t at all because the feeling of being wrapped in Mordred’s arms was just so warm and…well…wonderful…

Of course that wonderful feeling combined with the man handling was not exactly helpful in regards to keeping his secret crush a secret and he thanked the gods that he was facing away from Mordred when he was pulled down onto the bed.

It was unfair…all he had wanted to do since Mordred told him what he had done, who he had been with, was to go home, have a cup of tea and cry himself to sleep, but no, not even now when he had done all this for his friend was he being granted that one concession…it was incredibly unfair…but it was also wonderful…

Although it seemed Mordred was going to swing one last blow his way before he fell asleep. That fire in his chest was stoked at the words ‘I love you’, but was quickly extinguished by the ‘brothers for life’. If he managed to work this out with Meredith, if the two of them really made a go of it and something came from it…maybe they would be…

He tried not to think about it, instead, he just gave up fighting and lay where Mordred was pinning him in place and before falling asleep himself said quietly, “I love you too.”

[Mordred Le Fey]

In his sleep, Mordred had shifted onto his side, facing Tristian, and wrapped his arms around him until he was spooning him. It was warm, it was comforting - it was how the night should have gone with Meredith. But instead, here we was with his best friend, holding close as he slept.

As morning came, Mordred stirred and shifted in his sleep, moaning slightly and holding Tristian a little closer.

He was going incredibly awkward when he woke up.

[Tristian]

Tristian awoke to the sound of an incredibly attractive man behind him who was moaning and holding him tighter. Normally that would be a pretty good morning for him however his brain caught up with him faster than the rest of his body did as he remembered who that man was. His eyes shot open in a panic. He was still here. Lying on the bed. Next to Mordred…no…being spooned by Mordred.

This was not good. Not good at all. He needed to unhook himself before Mordred woke up.

A feeling of irritation went through him as he thought this, it wasn’t his bloody fault they were spooning, Mordred was the one that pulled him down onto the bed. However a wicked little voice pipped up ‘yeah but you didn’t exactly fight him off did you?’. Besides, if Mordred woke up and they were still like this then somehow it would be Tristian’s fault because at least Mordred could claim innocence through drunken amnesia.

Very slowly, Tristian tried to extract himself from Mordred’s arms.

[Mordred Le Fey]

Tristian's movement brought Mordred fully out of his sleep, and he slowly opened his eyes, groaning as the light hurt his eyes and he felt his head pounding with one hell of a hangover. It took him a few moments to figure out where he was and what events of the previous night had brought him here, and he groaned again as everything came back to him in a rush.

His hand hurt. His head hurt. His jaw, really hurt, and he brought a hand up to his face to feel it, wincing as he felt the sensitivity of one hell of a bruise on his jaw line.

He hesitated when he realised that the hand he had moved had been wrapped around a warm, firm body. He blinked a few times trying to clear the sleep from his eyes - and then realised that he was spooning Tristian.

He sat up quickly, pushing himself to the other side of the bed and bringing up a hand to his head.

"Ok... so... that's new..."

[Tristian]

The minute Mordred started to move, Tristian saw his chance, but…he wasn’t quick enough and roughly at the same time as Mordred Tristian jumped out of the bed and over to the opposite side of the bed, making sure to take some of the sheets with him. It wasn’t that he wasn’t dressed, he had managed to kick off his shoes and undo a few of the buttons on his shirt in a bid to make himself more comfortable, it was just…he really needed those sheets after being held by a writhing moaning man.

“Yes…well…I’ll bet you’ll think twice about drinking that much again,” said Tristian, trying to make light of the situation and desperately trying to keep the panicked tone from his voice.

He cleared his throat and added, “Why don’t I…I’ll just…breakfast…I’ll go…make breakfast.”