darker_london | Touching Base (Flynn/Quinn)

"Do you mind that I'm a musician?"

The question had cut through the silence in their bedroom, though Quinn was used to Flynn asking deep questions out of seemingly nowhere. He had been reading for his thesis but he set aside the book by Kant easily enough and leaned forward in his chair. Flynn was stretched out on their bed, the covers draped lazily across his knees as he played with his tablet. He hadn't even looked up when he asked, though once Quinn moved, Flynn smiled over at him. "Something on your mind, Bub?" Quinn asked, rather than answering the question directly. Flynn didn't often use a lot of words, and it was better to understand where this was coming from before stumbling into the conversation blindly.

"Thomas and Spectre were fighting," Flynn explained, and it was indeed true. Spectre was one of Flynn's closest friend as well as the front man of their band and his marriage to Thomas Littleton had been very rough of late, though they seemed to be patching things up.

"I heard," Quinn nodded, "mostly from Deidre."

Affection took over Flynn's features when Quinn mentioned Deirdre's name. "She does that," he said, amused. "More out of concern than anything else." While it was easy to see the Irish woman's over-sharing of information as harmful, she had a good heart. In case Deirdre hadn't explained the situation well, Flynn continued. "Some of it was about the fact that Spectre wasn't home much."

And there it was. Flynn wasn't asking if Quinn minded that he was a musician, because of course Quinn didn't. He was asking if Quinn had been harbouring hurt feelings that Flynn was gone a lot. "Bub, I do miss you when you're gone, but I know you're out there doing what you love. Of course I don't want you to leave the band." Having said that, he stood and crossed the room, settling beside his husband. "Have you been worrying about it?"

"Only for a few days," Flynn admitted. "Spectre explained everything to me and I worried about you feeling the same way."

Ruffling Flynn's hair, Quinn grinned over at him. "You worrying about me is wonderful, Mal, but I just want you to be happy. I know Thomas feels the same way about Spectre too, but they have kids. It has to be difficult juggling everything, and it sounds like Thomas was keeping some things to himself he shouldn't have been. If something bothers me, I promise to bring it up as long as you do too." He sometimes did worry about Flynn keeping mum about his worries since he was so laconic, but when Flynn did speak, it tended to be important.

"Sure," Flynn agreed. "I just don't want to fight like they did. It sounded scary." Their marriage had been patchy as well, though the fault for that laid with Frankie, Flynn's now deceased brother. Things had been good for a while now, and Quinn hoped without Frankie to mess things up, they would stay that way.

"Yes, let's not do that! They're doing better now though?"

"Spectre said they were," Flynn nodded. "And Thomas was smiling when I went to visit James yesterday. I think it's okay. So are you going to keep reading or what?"

The sudden switch of topic made Quinn giggle, and his laughter only grew at the eager and confused little look on Flynn's face at his reaction. "You are darling," Quinn assured his husband. "Absolutely darling. No, I don't have to read any more. What were you doing on the tablet?"

"Thinking about kissing you."

"Oooh, good tablet," Quinn grinned. "I didn't know there was an app for that."

"There's an app for that in my brain," Flynn informed Quinn. "But not in my brain is better. Take clothes off?"

"I'm glad we're talking this out," Quinn laughed as he jumped up to comply.