darker_london | Reconcile (Flynn, Quinn) {Date changed}

It was their last day of the Spectre UK tour. They had spent the last several weeks stopping in cities all over Europe to play their music for the fans. Spectre's popularity was growing and in some cities, they had done two nights, which they had never done before. Their venues were bigger and more elaborate. And none of it mattered to Flynn. He would have played his bass out to a tiny venue if it were void of people. All he cared about was the music they'd written together as a band. He returned to his simple stage presence of hiding halfway behind the monitors and playing without connecting with the audience at all. It was very easy to forget he was there.

And Flynn wanted them to.

His return to his life had been gradual and uncomfortable. He still hadn't reconciled with his husband, which had made the first anniversary of their wedding a horrible and depressing day. Nothing in his life was settled. He didn't know where he would live when they got back to London, but he wasn't worried. He would figure it out. As long as he wasn't in Liverpool at the mercy of his horrible landlord, then it didn't matter.

He didn't even know what city they were in any more.

As usual, he was sharing a hotel room with Deirdre, though she was taking a walk with her twins. The phone rang and without even checking, Flynn answered the phone assuming it was Deirdre. It wasn't.

"...Mal?" Quinn's hesitance was caused by how easily Flynn had answered the phone. They hadn't spoken in a long time and when they had, it had been barely civil. He had been afraid Flynn wouldn't even answer.

"Quinn. Are you okay?"

There was silence and Flynn wondered if Quinn had misdialed. Then Quinn started to speak. "No. No, not really. Mal, when you come home tomorrow, where will you be staying? Oh. Uh, also how has the tour been?"

Flynn smiled at that, and suddenly he missed Quinn so much it hurt. He loved his husband so much. "The tour's been fine. Long. I'm tired. And I don't know where I'll be staying. Probably with Deirdre."

"Oh."

Flynn blinked and he sat up in the bed, pulling the blankets in around him. "Quinn, do you have somewhere you want me to stay?"

Another silence and then Flynn heard, "I want you to come home."

Flynn didn't know how he felt about that. He missed his husband, yes. Achingly. He wasn't sure they were ready to live together again. Quinn hadn't dealt with the fact that Flynn had slept with Susan while they were apart, despite the fact that Flynn had thought they were getting divorced. Flynn understood why Quinn was angry. He was angry too, but not at himself anymore. He knew now that what had happened was not his fault. It had been a terrible misunderstanding.

"Do you really?" Flynn asked carefully.

"I miss you, Mal. I don't want to be angry anymore. I just...I just want you to come home and we can work on things."

Flynn ran his fingers through his hair and then he took a deep breath. "Uhm...okay. I want to try too. Will you meet me at the airport?"

The amount of relief in Quinn's voice made Flynn happy. "Of course! Mal, I'll be there. I love you, Bub. And I can't wait to see you. I have to go, I'm on break at the shelter, but I am really excited. Good luck tonight on stage, okay?"

"Thank you," Flynn said quietly, wishing he could take a moment to enjoy the fact that Quinn had just told him he was loved. "I love you too, Quinn."

He hung up and he sat a moment, trying to make his heart stop beating so fast. Maybe things would be okay. At least there was a chance now. He could return to London and everything would be fine.

And tonight, on stage, perhaps he would dance.