darker_london | Bliss no more (Peter, Aly, Vision!Tamm)

Things had reached such a state of bliss at the Kemp household, at least as much as they really could, that they should have known something would come along to take it away. But not a single one of them was on edge. Lydia was chatting with some of the friends who had spent the night. The ones who had opted to stay a little longer. Caleb and Anna were playing in the backyard. Svetlana was with Rasputina, Tasha was with Stephie, Gavin and Lavannah were making the most of a few moments to themselves, and Aly and Peter had just put baby Thomas down for a nap. Things were as quiet as they had been in a long time. And then Aly said, "we should make the bed."

Making the bed was always semi-dangerous when both Peter and Aly were in the room. They would get the fitted sheet on the mattress and then they would gaze into each other's eyes as they put the next sheet on. Glances were exchanged while they tucked the sheet up under the mattress and then, inevitably, one or the other of them reached across the bed, pulling the other one on to it to share a passionate kiss. Which always descended in to a state of bliss and crumpled sheets. Peter and Aly were doomed to ever have an unmade bed.

Today was no exception. Peter watched Aly as she tucked the corners of the sheet up under the mattress. He loved the way her gorgeous hair fell over her shoulders the way it did. And when she looked back up at him, he licked his lips and he smiled. "Heh. You-ACK!" Aly's hand had shot out, fingers curling in his collar. She pulled him on to the bed and she was kissing him deeply, seconds later. Peter was not complaining.

The removal of two shirts later, and Peter was kissing the soft skin of Aly's stomach. And then, out of nowhere, he smelled stagnant air. It reminded him of being confined. Peter blinked and pulled back from her, shaking his head. Aly sat up, looking terrified. Two husbands dying of brain tumours tended to put you on high alert at the first sign of trouble. "Peter, what's wrong!?"

Peter closed his eyes and he took a deep breath. "I smelled...nothing. It's...nothing." He leaned back down to kiss her, but Aly was distracted now.

"Peter..." She sucked her breath in through her teeth as his lips brushed her nipple. "Peter!" She pushed him away, but she was gentle. "It's...are you sure it's nothing?"

No. He really wasn't. But he nodded and he gave her a sweet smile anyway. "I think I'll be-" And then he groaned and his eyes fluttered closed. A flash of light blinded him and then he felt like his head was splitting in two. He fell back against the mattress with a loud, unintelligible yell.

He was in a cave. Rock above him and below him and all around him. Sky in front. Peter walked towards the sky and the smell of salty air. But it seemed that the more he walked towards it, the further away it was. He started to run, desperate to get to it because it was the only way out, wasn't it? He ran and ran and then, he reached the edge. Cliff and then nothingness. Peter screamed and his arms windmilled until he could step backwards, just managing not to dive over the edge. He fell to the ground and he crawled forward to peek out over the edge once again. No way out. No way down. Hungry and thirsty and pain. Pain in his arse? And then Peter could see that it wasn't himself at all. It was Tamm. Tamm was in trouble. And then Tamm leaned over the edge and he vomited-

"-n you hear me!? PETE-Augh!" Aly backed way the hell up as Peter vomited all over the clean, slightly rumpled sheets. "Oh...oh, Sweetheart..." She put a hand on his back, which was now slick with sweat. "Peter?"

Peter groaned and he wiped his mouth. "Damn you chimichangas."

"...Ew..." Aly gave him a slightly disgusted look and she pulled him away from the puddle of sick. "Peter...what happened? Was it..." Please don't be sick again. Please don't leave me....

"Vision." Peter said, shaking terribly in Aly's arms. "Liked it better when I had 'em while I was sleeping." Peter moaned and he rested his head in his hands. "Was Tamm. Tamm's in trouble."

Aly's eyes widened. "Oh god! I'll go ring...Deirdre! I'll ring Deirdre!"

Aly headed for the door and Peter looked up at her. "Aly."

"Yeah, Peter?"

"Shirt." Peter pointed to were her shirt lay, in a pile on the floor.

"Oh! Right..." Aly ran back over to it and she pulled it over her head before finally leaving the room. Peter let his body slide off the bed where he curled into a ball on the floor. His head was pounding and he felt violently ill. A few minutes. He just needed a few minutes.

And maybe a shot of whiskey.

Dammit.