darker_london | The path less travelled (Flynn, Reagan, Quinn) (Reply)

Flynn had been watching the results of the American election with Quinn in his lap and once Barack Obama was declared the winner, they had decided they should go out and celebrate. Quinn took longer to get ready in general so while he was coiffing, Flynn stole down to the kitchen to grab a drink of pomegranate juice. Or that was his intention until he heard a knock at the door.

Flynn answered it and when he found Reagan standing there, he was surprised to realise he felt rather apathetic about her presence on his doorstep. He was neither bothered nor happy to see her, but he gave her a pleasant smile anyway. "Hi, Reagan. Pomegranate juice?"

"Ew...no, what the fuck is wrong with you?!" Reagan asked, her voice sounding amused that Flynn would drink the stuff.

"I like seedy fruit." Flynn muttered and then he looked confused as to why what he had just said sounded so very wrong.

"Do you?" Reagan winked and she walked past him into the house. "I've seen Frankie again."

Quickly, at the mention of his older brother's name, Flynn shut the door and then he locked it. Twice. "What, where!?" He asked, once he was sure the door was bolted and it was safe to talk. It had been so long since Frankie had returned, he had started to think maybe it wouldn't matter anymore.

"A little paranoid are we? I wouldn't have come here if he was still around. He came to my house with an itch he couldn't scratch." Reagan kept to herself whether or not she had scratched said itch. "But I felt I should warn you because he's...he's really serious about this, Mal. He's biding his time, but he's not intending on letting you get away with leaving him. He wants you back, Flynn. And he's willing to kill to do that."

"Like killing someone is a way to get me to go back to him!" Flynn shrieked and then he lowered his voice. "I have friends. I have a family now. A real one. They'll keep me safe, and that's just how it is. He'll just have to shove it up his hole."

"Mature, Mal." Reagan sighed and then she fished around in her pocket. "Here. I figured you hadn't kept any of your old weapons but you'll need on to protect yourself." And then Reagan held out a gun for Flynn to take.

Flynn stared at it, blinking in confusion for a few moments. In those mere seconds, he had already taken in the make and the design and he saw the power of the weapon. It was small, but sleek, but it would have one hell of a kick. And then his brain caught up with him and he found that he was shaking his head. "Rage...er...Reagan, no! No, I'm not going to carry a gun around with me!"

"Don't be an idiot, Mal! Frankie is going to try and kill you."

"Well then I'm going to have to deal with that in a sane way that doesn't involve firearms that will only worsen the problem!" Flynn reached out to touch the gun, but only to push it back towards her. His fingers brushed against the cool metal and he remembered how amazing it felt to be holding something like that in your hand. The power of life and death. And instead of yearning for it, the thought repulsed him. "Take that out of this house! I can't have it here!" Little Mara and James lived here, and if one of them happened to find the gun and blew their faces off with it, he wouldn't ever forgive himself and he had a feeling no one else would either.

"You're going to die, Mal!" Reagan said desperately, still holding the gun pathetically in one hand.

"Then I'll die as the man who took the high road. You have to go now and don't you go bringin' that thing back here!" Flynn pushed her gently out the door and then he locked it behind her once more. Twice.

Taking the stairs two by two, Flynn reached his bedroom where Quinn was just coming out of the bathroom. "Hey, Mal! I'm ready!"

"We're staying in..." Flynn whispered and he shuffled his feet nervously.

Quinn was about to say that he'd gotten all dressed up and they should go out, but he saw the look on Flynn's face and he knew that something had happened while Flynn was downstairs. He also knew Flynn would talk about it when he was ready. So he didn't argue, nor did he ask what had happened. "Of course, Mal. We can stay in. Do you want to watch Aladdin again?"

Flynn brightened at that, and he nodded. "Yes! Can we have popcorn!?"

Quinn laughed and he nodded. "You can have anything you want, Bub."

Flynn grinned and he wrapped his arms around his Quinn, which was heaps better than wrapping his fingers around the cold, unyielding metal of a gun any day.