darker_london | Two opposite sides of the spectrum (Flynn/Quinn)

There was something wrong. Quinn knew it the second Flynn walked into his room.

Quinn had spent the night with Renee and Julian, and there hadn't been much sleep involved. More talking until the early hours of morning before he went off to a half day of research in the library. Eventually Quinn had given up and headed for home when his critical examination of Plato didn't keep him awake. If Plato couldn't do it, no one could. He had only been home a few minutes when Flynn had walked in, looking more than slightly disconcerted. And the expression on Flynn's face was more than enough to quell all of Quinn's joy at seeing the man he loved. Instead of his stomach exploding into warm little butterflies, it shriveled up and his heart started pounding against his chest. And not in the good way. "Mal..."

Flynn looked down at his hands and then back up at Quinn. Only then did Quinn look too, and realise Flynn's hands had blood on them. "Jesus...Mal." Quinn grabbed Flynn's arm and he pulled his lover into his bathroom. "What the fuck happened? Did someone...were you hurt?"

Flynn shook his head, and he sat down on the toilet lid while Quinn buzzed around, cleaning the blood from Flynn's skin. "'s not mine."

Quinn looked up then. Paused in his efforts. Blinked twice and then sat down hard on the edge of the tub. "The blood is someone else's?" Flynn nodded. "And you weren't attacked?" Flynn shook his head. "Which means..."

"Rolf. I...I attacked Rolf. He...Jillian was at Tristan's."

Quinn's eyes widened, and there was definite panic now. "Tristan!? Is he-"

"He's fine. Alive. Confused, I think. Rolf let her out. She could have killed him."

"But she didn't..."

Flynn groaned and he hid his face in his wet hands. "That's what he said," muffled into his palms. "I...fuck, Quinny. I lost it."

Quinn sighed and he pulled Flynn's hands out from under his face, because he wasn't going to let Flynn hide. "I wasn't done."

"B..."

"Shh!" Quinn finished cleaning the blood from Flynn's hands in tight-lipped silence. When he had finished, he disposed of the rags and then he turned to Flynn. "Anything else I need to clean off of you?" Flynn shook his head, ashamed. "I feel like I've done this so many times..."

Flynn licked his lips and then he reached for Quinn's hand. To his surprise, Quinn didn't pull away. "I'm sorry."

"Only difference is....I used to do it because you were beating the crap out of people who hurt me." Quinn looked over at him and he raised his eyebrows at Flynn. "Are we going to have a problem here? Because of Tristan?"

"What?! N...No!" Flynn swallowed roughly. "You're not mad I beat Rolf up?"

"Rolf can take care of himself." Quinn said, neatly avoiding the real question. "Frankly I'm surprised you managed it, and you should be more fucking careful. I don't give a particular fuck that you bloodied him up. I don't condone violence. I really don't. But sometimes people don't listen to anything else. And I would have preferred the message come from someone else not my lover. What's done is done. I'm just...making sure you- Do you love me?"

"Have...have you gone daft?!" Flynn asked, his voice incredulous. "Ardal, I've been in fucking love with you since the goddamn millennium!" He stood then, and he knelt in front of Quinn, who instantly threaded his fingers into Flynn's hair. "I'm having a bloody personal fucking crisis here, and you decide now is the time to question what I feel about you?" There was no malicious intent behind his words, only wonder at the ability of the human mind to see things that did not exist. "I love Tristan. You know that. I'm with you. And that's never changing. Now can we talk about the fact that I'm fucked up, please!?"

Despite the circumstances, Quinn smiled and he pulled Flynn into his arms. "I love you. I love you, Mal."

"I love you too, crazy," Flynn mumbled into Quinn's shoulders.

God relationships were such trouble sometimes!