Fic : Bacon Sandwiches in Oxford - Dark is Rising

[burntcopper]

Finally finished a fic I started back in August '02 and occasionally hound megolas with. Dark is Rising, Bran/Will.

One day I want to write fic that has a point. Or a big conclusion. I think the majority of my fic that isn't PWP that *has* a big event in it could really be described as 'Can we please get this out of the way so we can get back home? The Archers is due to start in an hour.'


Title : Bacon Sandwiches in Oxford
Author : Gunbunny
E-Mail : kabukivice@beeb.net
Fandom : Dark is Rising Sequence
Pairing : Bran/Will
Rating : No sex and no swearing. Am slipping.
Summary : The fascinating subject of Bran coming to visit student-Will in
Oxford. (sort of sequel to Drinking Problem)
Disclaimer : Not mine. Hers. :points to Susan Cooper:
Feedback : I accept burnt offerings and alcohol.
Archive : http://kabukivice.com/underskin , anywhere else feel free.

Oxford, mid-January. There was some snow a few days ago, but it's since
degenerated into grey slush with the passage of feet and pollution.

Bran kicks at a bit of it. "The lack of cold is made up for by a distinct rise in
pollution and dreariness, Old One."

Will protests. "Oxford? Dreary? Bran, look at the architecture! Bracknell's
dreary, not Oxford."

Bran casts a jaded eye over it. "It's all grey stone and bicycles." He makes
a face as he side-steps a mush made of sodden newspapers. "Not to
mention the rubbish."

"Complain, complain, complain." Will replies. "Besides, you're from Wales.
Thought grey stone was second nature to the towns there."

"Different, that is."

"Entirely." Will replies, grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Besides,
Oxford's a world-renowned centre of learning."

"My other point. What're you doing at university? Useless when you know
everything you need. You know more about life, the universe and
everything than the rest of them put together."

"Not everything, Bran. I couldn't do the job of a scientist unless I trained
for it."

"Pah. Semantics. And languages. You chose to study languages. You,
who can speak every language under the sun that's ever been spoken by
man, Old One. And probably some by Neanderthals."

"Bran, I've told you, people from Essex are human beings too."

Bran snorts. "I'll believe that when I see it. And you still haven't answered
my question."

"It's interesting."

"Hmph. And how is the Drew boy?"

"Still studying medicine." Simon Drew says, looming up behind them. "See
you haven't gotten rid of your fetish for Welsh boys, Stanton."

"It's a curse I have to bear." Will sighs.

Bran pulls down his sunglasses to peer at Simon. "Presume you're indulging
in disgusting medical student behaviour."

"Of course. It's expected of me." His hand comes up, jerking over his
shoulder. "There's a decent café over there if you feel like lunch."

"You offering to pay?" Bran asks.

"No." Simon grins. "I'm saving that for when I start earning real money."

"Damn. Coming, Will?" Bran asks. Will's stomach growls in response.

Simon laughs. "There's your answer."

In the café, Bran stirs his tea idly. "So what does Will get up to while I'm
not here?"

Simon shrugs. "Made a name for himself in the languages department.
Honestly, I don't know why he even bothers with the degree. Suppose
he's trying to emulate Gumerry. You always did idolise him, didn't you?"

"Not all that much of one." Will protests. "Besides, Professor Merriman was
in the archaeology department."

"That's not stopping you from getting hijacked by the anthropologists on a
regular basis. They're looking to adopt you, Stanton. The languages lot
are getting tetchy."

Bran frowns. "Adopt him? But why would anyone want a dreamer like him?"

"You've never seen him in full academic and cultural flow, I presume. And
you're one to talk."

"I'm only shagging him. Completely different matter."

"Completely." Simon says.

Will tucks into his bacon sandwich when the waitress brings it over. Bran's
leaning back and sipping his tea, having added far too much sugar to it.
"How's the family? Barney still a brat?"

"Unfortunately, yes. But an immensely talented brat. That kind of thing is
what gets altars set up to you in art school. He's got his second exhibition
at the end of this year."

"If he's getting shows, what's he doing in art school? Thought that was the
point of art school, getting you ready for that kind of thing."

"Talk to the artists. There's nothing they love more than continuous
lessons, for some reason." Simon says, sipping his tea.

An hour slips by with more cups of tea, and another bacon sandwich for
Will.

Bran glances at it, then says pointedly "Try not to do such a good
impression of a gannet this time, boyo."

"Didn't." Will protests, reaching for it.

"Yes you did. You're not supposed to inhale it, you're supposed to chew it
and savour the flavour."

"I did savour the last one!" Will complains, prior to taking a bite from it.

"Speaking as the voice of authority on these matters, Stanton, chew that
mouthful at least four times or you'll end up choking on it, and neither of us
want to attempt the Heimlich in here." Simon says.

"Mmph-grn-thmph." Is the only reply from Will.

"Don't speak with your mouth full." Bran scolds.

After the bacon sandwich's finished, Simon glances at his watch. "Bugger.
Got a lecture to go to. I'll have to see you two."

"Anything interesting?" Will enquires.

"I believe we're talking about the liver today."

"Ah, a subject any student is well-versed in the abuse of." Will smirks.

"Helping to add the decoration of American exchange students to the gutter
every fresher's week." Simon gestures for the bill, and pulls his wallet out.
"I think mine was a quid or so." He glares at Will. "And don't whinge about
being broke again."

"Hoi, not all of us have well-off parents we can go begging to."

Bran groans. "Speaking as one of the gainfully employed rather than a
bloody student, if this turns into a gripe about bills, I'm going to put my
fingers in my ears and sing. Loudly."

"Just so long as you do it near the rugby ground when it's grudge match
time. Using the appropriate song, of course." Simon says mildly.

Bran smiles sweetly. "Don't worry, I'll only use it in support of whichever
team is playing against yours."

"Your consistency is appreciated." Simon says, studying the bill that he's
handed and putting a pound fifty on the plate, then getting up and shoving
his hands in his pockets. "See you around, ey?"

"Think we'll be in the pub later, if you're around." Will replies. "Say goodbye
to the nice medical student, Bran."

"See you around, boyo." Bran says, turning to Will. "Bookshop or museum?"

"You know me too well."

"There is that." Bran agrees. "So which is it first?"

------

Will's room in halls, sometime around 2am. Will's curled up under the
blankets, out for as much warmth as he can get. Bran's sitting up, the
combination of moonlight and neon from the outside giving his
paler-than-pale skin an unearthly, sickly glowing yellow tinge.

Will shifts, obviously doesn't come up against the expected body shape,
blinks awake and asks blearily "Bran? You okay?"

"Thinking."

"Anything important?"

"Does Simon know?"

"Know what? Where babies come from?"

"The real stuff. Does he remember?"

"No. He just remembers what Merriman gave him. A holiday in Wales, and
two in Cornwall. Everyone thinks Merriman died from one of those flu
strains that go round. Why?"

"Why only me? Why'd you let me remember?"

Will shrugs. "You were ... empty without it. You kept having deja-vus,
something like that. I was selfish. I let you remember."

"Selfish?" Bran queries.

"I wanted the old you back. Not the one with the fake memories."

"Your own reasons. Well, they're not as simple, but at least they're real."
Bran turns his head to look out of the window, says softly "I'm as much of
the Wild Magic as I am of the High, so it comes to the same thing in the
end."

Will hoists himself up on his elbows to get a better look at his face. "That
last bit made no sense."

Bran blinks, looks back at Will, suddenly not so serious. "It was meant to?"
He rolls over, onto Will, pinning him down. "Now, the important question.
Would you have gone for me if I didn't have the memories?"

"Probably. You're sodding gorgeous, but you know that already."

"A truth universally acknowledged." Bran grins, shifting his lower body to
align with Will's.

"What about me?" Will asks.

"You? You'd still be that strange English boy that decided snogging me in
front of his relatives on New Year's Eve when he was pissed was a good
idea. Knowing you were a dewin wouldn't have made much difference to
whether I fancied you or not."

"And here I thought it added an air of exotic mystery." Will sighs
dramatically.

"Bollocks. You want exotic, I was doing exotic way before I found out who
my parents were. Being an Old One couldn't beat that." He pauses. "Why
were they cheering again?"

Will grins. "They'd known I'd had a crush on you for a couple of years. It
was your dad I was afraid of. John Rowlands had to sit on him so he didn't
do anything rash until he'd got used to the idea."

"Oh, a conspiracy, was it? Disgusting. I may have to punish you for that,
Old One." Bran says solemnly. He ruins the expression by snickering.

Will stretches himself out. "Punish away, Bran. Feel free." Still grinning.
And the grin's still in place in the morning when they wake up.

END

Comments

[oneless.livejournal.com]

That was fantastic. I really liked to mood of the peice. Excellent.

[littlerhymes]

DIR yay! Love the flow of this, casual and talky and colloquial, the easiness of the relationship.

[woe2you.livejournal.com]

Hail, wench. Hope you don't mind me dropping in, but you mentioned this and I thought I'd have to take a look. And 'tis good, all rings true except "Professor". Cos I'm a picky bastard - Will'd instinctively say "Merriman", save when he was talking in front of people he was unsure of, where he'd stick with the formal "Professor Lyon".

I'd be more lavish with the praise, but people'd only wonder what you slipped in my drink.

[aqua-eyes.livejournal.com]

:heart: *is too busy reading for arson at the mo*