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ectonurites · 3 years

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My least favorite type of fic!Tim is when he’s portrayed as depressed/very mentally and emotionally unstable, but also at the same time as someone who is like lauded as being super dangerous/the most skilled or something like that?? Those fics where Tim is chugging caffeine and barely sleeping, but characters are still like “oh I wouldn’t wanna piss off Tim he is Dangerous” and that’s annoying enough but then there are fics that at the same time as that portray him as like on the edge of a breakdown. It’s very irritating even if I’m not sure I can articulate exactly why, it just really rubs me the wrong way. Like, I definitely do think Tim has some issues with depression and stuff, but in fics like those it’s treated more like a quirk sort of instead of a serious issue

LMAOO I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT i’m not a fan of that either. I’m apologizing in advance if I sound mean in any of this critique i’m about to give of that fanon version of him. I want to preface this by saying that people can write whatever the hell they want, like, they’re allowed to! And I’m not referencing/calling out any specific works here. Just trends. But I’m gonna bitch about some things I’ve noticed that annoy me, personally. (so again, not saying other people can’t enjoy this stuff! just. not for me)

so like sorry if im mean but this is just me ranting and also this is my blog anyways so:

(nobody take this as an attack on them please because it’s really not)

The problem is a lot of those fics seem to interpret Tim’s behavior in Red Robin (& especially like that last whole arc of his Robin run also by FabNic) as if that’s his normal, rather than the result of a few years of CONSTANT traumatic incidents pushing him to a breaking point (because while all the shit he went through with his Dad, Steph, Kon, Bart, and then Bruce dying was spread out over several years for us as readers, it’s regarded as like within two years in canon! It all happens when he’s 16 and 17. According to the Batman comic right after War Games, Jack was murdered only days after Steph died.

(Batman #634)

That’s a LOT to process for one kid jesus christ)

I love Red Robin honestly, I do, but it is about Tim at the lowest points in his life. It’s the grand finale of Tim’s story, and everything crumbles, that’s kinda the point! The end leaves him in a position to either rebuild himself or fall apart. It’s all about how he chooses to continue after this point!

(Red Robin #26)

The way he acts and the things he does in that comic should be regarded as such. He can’t live the way he does in Red Robin forever or he will literally burn himself out/become something unrecognizable, like, jesus it’s kinda even acknowledged in the comic when he thinks about what his potential futures would be if he keeps it up like he’s doing:

(Red Robin #25)

He sees himself as dead, as Batman (which he has countless times said he doesn’t want to be and at this point in his history almost every time he’s seen a future he became Batman in he had become a killer), or needing to retire and taking over an Oracle-esque role, likely because he exerted himself too much to continue.

When you look at him around this same timeframe when he’s not isolating himself/too deep into the mission and is instead working with his friends back on the Titans, you can see that he is starting to heal and work in a more positive direction. He’s choosing to work on coming out of this rough period by being together with his friends who he loves.

(Teen Titans (2003) #100)

Not to say that you can’t write about situations in which he doesn’t start to come out of it, but if you are doing so it’s something you should be taking seriously because that’s the idea you want to explore, not just acting like it’s perfectly okay or normal? (And again, there are a lot of works that do explore it in good ways, there’s just also a LOT that don’t)

Like, so much content I see just make any sadness and depression and tendency to over-work himself that’s rooted in his traumas (which! those do have a basis in canon!) into a quirky personality trait rather than a response to trauma. Acting as if he’s always been this way and it’s normal for him. That’s what bothers me. If people want to seriously explore the effects of all these incidents and how that plays into his ability to do his job as a hero, then hell yes do it! But when it all gets brushed off as ‘oh thats just tim, he just doesnt eat or sleep or feel any happiness but like its fine he’s just always been like that’ I feel my blood boil.

This also often strikes me as related/tied to fanon’s seemingly never-ending quest to make Tim into this victim of so many things he really wasn’t. They make his childhood 10x worse than it actually was (yes he was lonely because he was sent to boarding schools rather than having his parents around, but he was NOT just left home alone all the time as a child.

(Batman #441)

He snuck away during a school vacation week to follow Bruce one (1) time and to then track down Dick. This is established in his introduction story! PLEASE read Lonely Place of Dying!) and it just... going with those fanon assumptions as being true changes so much of how people characterize him!

Some people will also (not to call out tim/kon shippers especially because I literally am also one but) vilify the shit out of Steph and make their relationship out to be some abusive thing rather than just... a messy teen relationship between vigilantes because they had really complicated lives and baggage with one another? Which they both acknowledge they made mistakes in!

(Red Robin #10)

Or people will vilify the shit out of Dick in regards to the situation at the start of Red Robin, or literally just make anyone who Tim ever had a disagreement with out to be the bad guy despite the actual situations always being way more complex and multi-faceted than that.

And then on top of all that, aside from making him into this ‘im broken 24/7 and not doing anything to fix it also everyone around me is terrible to me’ type of character, because he’s a lot of people’s favorite, they also want him to be as cool and strong as he is at his high points. So they’re projecting all this stuff onto him that makes him what should be a barely functioning person but then also act like that’s fine and he’s able to be a dangerous badass on top of it.

Like I’m sorry but someone who is going out and actively acting as a vigilante like that which is incredibly physically taxing is NOT surviving on coffee alone and no sleep. That’s literally not possible, he’d fucking collapse. (And like, again, if you want to explore him pushing himself to that point, that’s one thing! but acting like he can manage all of that for more than a few days at a time/maybe while working on one really tough case is nuts!) and like, even canon can be a little guilty of this type of thing particularly since the New 52 (Detective Comics 2016 had more than a few references to him barely sleeping, but at least they also made references to him eating normally/healthily and he wasn’t completely self isolating or anything) (and also that comic had him be so self sacrificial he was ready to die to save everyone and only didn’t die because of Mr.Oz’s interference, he’s definitely not in his best place there) but usually it’s still within some realm of possibility.

Also like. The fanon ‘chugging coffee to survive thing’ just annoys the shit out of me because, like, yes there’s a few moments in canon where he’s under a lot of pressure and pushing himself further than he normally would and had some coffee (one of the only times I can even remember him having it on panel is... oh... during that last Robin arc I just mentioned a little while ago shouldn’t be where you source your normal characterization of him because it’s a very difficult situation that pushes him further than he normally would go! huh!) But the thing is like, people play it off for laughs, or like it’s a normal thing he would do at any time in his life! If you want to explore him pushing himself and using coffee as a crutch, like, there’s ways you can write it that takes it seriously, but almost every time I see it come up in fics it is like a core part of his personality and just ‘oh haha silly tim always with his entire pot of coffee he must chug every morning or he’ll die :^)’ And that bothers the hell out of me.

In general it’s just... people treat Tim so weird. They want him to be so many different things that he’s shown himself to be at different times for very specific reasons, except they want him to do all of it at the same time which just doesn’t work. A person can’t function like that, and it’s not even close to who he is in canon.

Again, people can do what they want, and this is just my opinion obviously, but yeah. My two cents on the matter. Read Lonely Place of Dying, read Young Justice, read his Robin run. Read his comics and get a feel for who he was before all the rest of his trauma, and see how he canonically reacts to it along the way. I know reading comics can be tough for some people but so much stuff just echo chambers and becomes barely recognizable in this fandom and it’s just... a shame when it happens with a character ya love.

#Anonymous

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baldwin-montclair · 5 years

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Baldwin’s Nightingale - Part 3

Characters: Baldwin Montclair/OC

Timeframe: Before the S1 Finale, TV Show canon only (haven’t read the books yet)

Summary: Despite her Mentor’s misgivings about the date, Alisha goes ahead with the meeting.

Tag requests: @christi14 @poemfreak306 @pookie-cleary

PART 1

PART 2

Michael hadn’t spoken a word to her the entire forty minute drive home. The tube would have been faster, it’s how she got there.

“A vampire? How could you be so monumentally dim?” He surprised her with the abrupt and insulting question from the lounge as she emptied a vase of fake flowers to replace them with Baldwin’s gorgeous bouquet.

“For fuck sake Michael,” Alisha rolled her eyes and stomped into the living room, “it’s drinks!”

“Not just any vampire,” he continued, oblivious to her answer, “no, you choose the head of one of the most powerful vampire dynasties whilst they’re engaged in a power struggle with the others.”

“That has nothing to do with me. Whatever’s going on, we stay out of it, that’s what you’ve always said. It’s drinks, that’s it.”

“You think that’s all he wants, you’re really that naive?” He seethes.

“Are you really that naive as to think that’s all I want.”

“Jesus!” He winced in discomfort over her frank statement.

“Look-” she sighed but stopped when he sank his tall frame into the armchair.

“I’m scared, okay,” he admitted, “I’m sorry for being such an asshole about this but I am genuinely terrified that you’re going to get hurt.”

“You really think Baldwin’s likely to hurt me?”

“I’m sorry, did you just say ‘Baldwin’, is that what just happened?”

“It’s his name.”

“This century it is!”

“Is he dangerous, yes or no?” She tried to bring the conversation back to topic.

“He’s one of the most lethal creatures of the past two thousand years.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I know it’s not but I’m concerned that if I give my answer you might mistake his unlikeliness to harm you with the conclusion that there is no danger.”

“How unlikely?”

“In all honesty and as far as I can tell, he has not harmed anyone or even typically kept Nightingales. His enemies, however, are not likely to treat you with equal consideration.”

“Nightingales?” She asked and he just shook his head.

“Never mind, it’s stupid.” He waved his hand, trying to dismiss the importance of what he said.

“No, what is it?” Michael sighed, knowing he wasn’t getting out of it.

“It’s a caged bird reference, like a ‘kept’ daemon of a witch or vampire.”

“I thought we generally weren’t supposed to mix?”

“We’re not but as usual, it doesn’t tend to apply to those in charge so if the head of the congregation decides to take a daemon as a pet no-one’s going to stop him.”

“That’s not what he’s doing.”

“Impressive that you’ve managed to glean the intentions of a politician with two millennia’s practice in hiding said intentions and all within the space of a ten minute chat. You don’t know him.”

“By that point, neither do you!”

“True, but he’s not trying to get into my pants.”

“Mike.”

“Just...be careful, okay?”

——-

The bar was a surprising choice, a cosy prohibition era speakeasy type of establishment as far as she could tell as the car pulled up in front of the building and the driver got out, holding the door open for her.

If she hadn’t received the call from Baldwin, apologising for being late, and asking that she allow his driver, the petite blonde vampire Christina, to escort her to the venue she would have likely refused.

He was persuasive, or maybe she just let her attraction rule over her common sense.

As though on cue, a valet exited the bar and approached them.

“Thanks, I can make it from here.” Alisha told Christina as the other handed the keys to the valet.

“I’m sure you can but I have my instructions Ms Black, please.” Christina held the door to the bar open for Alisha. Deciding it unfair to argue, given the fact that it wasn’t Christina’s fault she was there, Alisha relented, entering the bar.

Photos adorned the walls of the long forgotten patrons of the bar, many of a criminal persuasion she deduced from the white suits and absurd hats.

A waiter greeted them at the door, another vampire.

“Ms Black, please, let me take your coat.” He retrieved the garment and passed it onto a second waiter who spirited it away to the cloak room.

“This way.” He led both women to a table with wine already decanted and he made to pour it into her glass when she stopped him.

“No, thanks, I’m not a huge fan of wine.”

“But Miss, this is a...” he rattled of a long and important title of vintages and regions.

“It’s just wine, Percy,” Baldwin interrupted with his entrance and turned to a surprised Alisha, “what do you like?”

Somehow an ‘appletini’ didn’t seem sophisticated enough for the company.

“Spiced rum,” Alisha watched him give yet another long overcoat to the waiter, “and coke.”

The waiter opened his mouth but abruptly closed it when Baldwin gave him a withering stare.

“Right away Miss.” He rushed off into the back.

“Thank you Christina, I’ll make sure Ms Black gets home, you can go about your business.” Baldwin tells the vampire as he sits opposite Alisha, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he did so.

“Enjoy your night,” Christina told them both politely, “it was nice to meet you, Ms Black.”

The stunted formality of vampires does not get any easier to get used to.

“Alisha, please.” Christina shot a questioning glance at Baldwin who studies at Alisha first before giving Christina a decisive nod.

“As you wish, Alisha.”

Christina left and Alisha was suddenly and acutely aware they were now alone, after a long week of waiting.

And she had nothing to say!

“The smoking, you stopped.” It wasn’t a question yet he seemed to be waiting for an answer.

“I was going to stop anyway, the experience with Angelo just sealed the deal.” She told him, not wanting to give him too much credit in the decision.

“Regardless of the reason,” he retorted, clearly not believing her, “it was the right choice.”

The waiter returned with her drink and poured Baldwin’s wine for him as he studied her in silence.

“What?” She asked when the waiter left, feeling self-conscious at his stare.

“You seem nervous.” He answered, placing his hand over hers on the table.

“Wow, you are bad at this.” She retorted, taking a long drink from the glass with her free hand.

“How so?” He frowned slightly at the jibe.

“Come on, there’s rules to a ‘date’, surely you know that.”

“Enlighten me!” He sighed with mock resignation.

“It’s generally not procedure to have your driver pick your date up in a flash car, usually a simple ‘I’ll be a bit late’ text will suffice.”

“I don’t text, I call.”

“That’s because, unlike everyone else, you don’t have anyone who can give you a tiny panic attack when their name shows up in caller ID.”

“That’s true, although when my brother calls it’s generally not good news.” He answered and a flicker of confusion flashed across his countenance, as though he was surprised at sharing this.

Alisha had heard of this brother, of course, the infamous Matthew Clairmont, infamous in daemon circles anyway, she could easily understand the more libertine de Clermont causing Baldwin more than one headache.

Also, she felt a slight shift in his guarded demeanour with the admission of brotherly friction.

“That aside, must be nice being the one who knocks.” She teased, knowing the reference would be lost on him. The furrow of his brow told her she was right.

“Do you always speak in code?” He asked, and, feeling a bit more confident, she moved her hand under his to grasp his instead.

“How’d you get this?” She asked, running a finger over a long healed cut.

“Hundreds of battles and you expect me to remember every wound?” His voice had an edge of interest tempered by a thread of sternness. If he was determined to maintain control, she was willing to see how far she could push that limit.

“If I were to guess, I’d say the sack of Alexandria. Did you really have to burn the library?”

“I wasn’t there.”

“You’re not as old as they say?” She ribbed innocently.

“Careful.” He warned, his eyes dark and foreboding.

“Okay, not that, hmm...” she pondered and, with mock wide-eyed revelation continued, “oh, did one of the other senators knick you by accident whilst y’all were stabbing Caesar in the back.”

The tiniest hint from the quirk of his lip in amusement was undermined when he gripped her wrist, not painfully, but firm in a way that told her she was not getting free unless he allowed it.

She found the limit but she wasn’t sure if it was in referencing his long past or the insinuation that he would be so weak as to not face a opponent directly.

“I believe I told you that I tend not to repeat myself.”

“You did but I thought I made it clear that I would not be able to settle for a ‘because I said so’, you need to tell me how I offended you.”

“I do?” He chuckled, more from surprise than genuine amusement.

“If you respect me you would. Do you respect-“

“Yes!”

He answered abruptly, loosening his grip but not letting go as he instead dropped their joined hands to the table, his thumb lightly grazing over her pulse.

“Why did you ask me to come here, tonight?” She asked.

“The same reason, I assume, you agreed.”

“I have no intention of being your pet daemon, Baldwin.” She mustered with conviction.

His wounded glance gave her momentary pause.

“I would never ask that of you, or anyone else, it’s not what I want.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I don’t know, that’s the truth of it. I pride myself on knowing the intentions of everyone else yet I don’t seem to know my own.”

Alisha could only sit in stunned silence at the admission.

“What I can tell you,” he continued, “is what I do not want.“

“Okay.”

“I do not want you to be harmed in anyway by anyone, least of all by my enemies.”

“We have that in common.” She agreed and he did the most unexpected thing.

He laughed.

A full, honest and real laugh that seemed to lessen what had to the considerable weight of the creature world and his family’s legacy upon him.

“I will protect you.” He assured, his tone now deliberate and serious.

“I won’t be a caged Nightingale either.” She warned.

“Everyone’s caged by something.”

“Yeah but your protection would shrink the freedom I actually do have.”

“In some ways, perhaps, in others, just the opposite.”

“What are your terms?”

“A negotiation?” He taunts.

“In a sense.”

“Alright.” He agreed with what could only be an assumption of a foregone victory.

“When I call, you pick up, no voicemail, no callback. I call, you answer.”

“What about when I call you, will you answer?”

“Always.”

The abruptness of his reply told her she wasn’t getting any wiggle room with that one.

“Why is it so important I answer?”

“I have no need to check up on you, if I call, it will be important. If it’s not, I’ll-”

“Text?” She interrupted.

“As you wish.” He gave the most adorable head bow with his response.

“What else?”

“You keep Christina as your driver.”

“She’s your driver.”

“Actually she isn’t but she is someone I trust.”

“Hold up, is that why you were ‘late’, you just wanted me to meet her?”

“Yes.” He answered simply and as though she had no reason to be upset.

“Okay, well, you can forget about that!”

“Alisha-” he started.

“No, it’s too much, I won’t be chauffeured around like I’m some important person.”

“You’re important to me,” he cut her off, “and she’s not just a driver, she’s private security, she’s there to protect you when I’m not with you.”

“This’ insane.” She shook her head, pulling her hand back, trying to break the spell she was falling under.

He didn’t seem fazed or upset.

“Jesus, Baldwin, we don’t even know each other, we meet once in an alley, go on a date and you want to give me a bodyguard and a driver, and I don’t even have a car for her to drive.”

“That was your car, obviously you need a secure vehicle, I purchased it based on Christina’s recommendations.”

“The Merc? You bought me a Mercedes?”

“I did.” Again, the same matter-of-fact tone.

Lost for the words needed to begin explaining the problem with the situation, she instead opted to drain the contents of her glass.

“I want to show you something that may change your mind. Will you come with me?”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“It’s not your apartment is it, because I don’t...not on the first date. Kiss, yes, Nightingale, not so much.”

“Not my apartment.” He confirmed, giving the waiter a subtle wave.

In no time, both he and a second waiter arrived with their coats and Baldwin retrieved hers from the waiter.

“What’s your answer?” He asked, the open garment in his hands an obvious invitation.

“What the hell.” Alisha shrugged, stood and allowed him to help her into her coat the same way he helped her into his in the alley.

“I should probably return yours, its-“

“I have enough, it’s better for your safety if you just keep it at home as a deterrent for other vampires.” He assured and held out his hand for her to take, which she did, without even thinking.

“The car, Percy.”

“Retrieving it for you now Mr Montclair, lovely to meet you Ms Black.”

“Thanks, Percy.” She answered as Baldwin led her out of the bar and onto the street just as the Jaguar approached, still from several blocks away.

“Why do I have the feeling this is your car?” Alisha gently tapped his tie with her finger.

Baldwin’s eyes narrowed in mock irritation and gathered her lapels in his hands to draw them together.

“You’re cold.” He explained, not a question but neither was it true.

“Your Spidey Sense must be off because I’m not.” She asserted, having to look up at him as he was still very close.

The faint aroma of incense circled around them, confirming for her that was just his unique scent. She’d be embarrassed if he knew that during the last week she would periodically stop at the coat rack when caught by the scent and imagine all sorts of interesting scenario’s.

“You’re shivering, I assumed.” He explained and she realised he knew full well the reason.

It would be a lie to say that she had no trepidation about accompanying a vampire to a secondary location.

“You have the control here, if you do not wish to go, we won’t go, if you do not wish me to kiss you then I won’t.”

The second part of his statement got her attention and she realised that not only did she want him to, she had wanted him to do so since he sat opposite her in the bar.

Still, she’d be damned if she would give him the satisfaction of being in control.

Leaning up, she pressed her lips gently against his and he responded by framing her face in his strong hands and, gently, deepened the kiss. Her hands settled on his forearms, not as an attempt to pull away but as an anchor.

When the car finally pulled up, it was Baldwin who reluctantly broke off the kiss.

He looked down at her and, very lightly, brushed his thumb over her bottom lip as though admiring his handiwork.

“Do you want to go with me?”

She was grateful for his careful choice of words as she really was not sure she could handle the question being asked the other way.

“Yes, I do, I want to co-“ she stopped, her cheeks flushing slightly at her own mistake, “go, go with you. I want to go with you.” She corrected and he made a valiant, but failed effort not to look amused as he opened the passenger door for her.

As she watched him close her door and walk around to the driver’s side only one thought screamed in her mind.

Fuck

_______

PART 4

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yinzhengs · 5 years

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绅探 | detective l - some vague one-sided (perhaps) ben -> luo fei content. timeframe is iffy but pre-canon, no spoilers. ben gets hurt and luo fei fusses.

wrote this while i was extraordinarily sleepy, please forgive any mistakes.

“It’s nothing,” Benjamin tells him, turns half-heartedly so that his bandaged arm faces away from Luo Fei; Luo Fei notices, of course, Luo Fei notices everything. “I just have to change the dressing—“

“Let me do it,” Luo Fei says, suddenly, eyes almost pleading. Benjamin pauses, breath half-caught in his chest at the earnest glint in Luo Fei’s eyes, the way his hands twitch at his sides, already itching to move.

Almost everything, Benjamin corrects to himself.

“I can handle it,” Benjamin says softly, but Luo Fei steps closer.

“Let me help,” Luo Fei says, and Benjamin can hear the undertone of guilt now, the way he’s not asking so much as pleading. “Ben.”

He’s never been able to deny Luo Fei anything. No point in starting now, he thinks.

“Alright,” Benjamin murmurs, shaking his head.

Luo Fei perks up at once, scuttling around the morgue in quick strides, opening cabinets and pulling out all the medical equipment stashed away in their depths, gauze and medical tape and some half-antibiotic, half-herbal concoction Benjamin’s hoping won’t give him an infection — he has nothing but respect for Shanghai’s doctors, of course, but there’s a part of him that still eyes the tinctures and ointments they peddle with distrust, despite it all.

“It was just a graze,” he protests again, though he know it’s useless; once Luo Fei had made up his mind, there was no changing it. Still, he tries, for the sake of his pride.

Luo Fei pauses, stares at him with blank eyes. “The bullet went through your arm. If it’d been off by a few more degrees, a few more centimeters, it would’ve shattered your bone.”

“An occupational hazard,” Benjamin tries, lips quirking upward. Luo Fei’s lips purse, and he doesn’t reply as he approaches, hands gentle as they unwrap the gauze around Benjamin’s bicep. Benjamin sighs as the dressing falls away to reveal the ugly wound underneath, flesh red and exposed where the bullet had cut a wide swath through the skin as it’d grazed his arm.

“Ben,” Luo Fei starts, swallowing.

“I can do it myself,” Benjamin tries again. “It’s fine. You don’t need to—”

Luo Fei’s already shaking his head, and Benjamin bites back his words, quiet irritation in his voice when he speaks up again. Maybe it’s the shock or the pain,or the lack of sleep that gets to him, but he finds himself snapping, his voice alien to his ears when he rambles on.

“How many times have you been shot? Remember when you were in the hospital for weeks, when you had shrapnel in your stomach? I’m a police officer too, as much as you are — or did you just expect me to stay in the morgue, like your pet coroner, that poor guy who can’t talk to people as well as he can corpses—“

“Ben,” Luo Fei says, pained, “That’s not — I didn’t mean —“

Luo Fei’s lips curl, displeased, as he pours saline out onto a cotton wipe. “You know that’s not what I think. Especially not about you.”

His fingers are gentle as he smooths the wipe around the edge of the wound, and Benjamin grits his teeth, breath shuddering out of him quietly. Luo Fei casts him an apologetic look, and Benjamin shakes his head.

“Then what do you think?’ he asks, trying to steady his voice.

Luo Fei starts to clean around the edge of his wound, where some of the gauze fibers have started to cling to the slow-forming scabs, and Benjamin hisses in a breath. Luo Fei’s hand pauses, and his eyes dart to the sides before coming back to land on Benjamin’s face.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Luo Fei says finally, voice barely a whisper. “Especially not for me.”

He’d pushed Luo Fei out of the way, adrenaline hot in his veins as he’d tackled the gunman who’d been aiming at Luo Fei down to the ground. A muzzle flash and a haphazard pull of the trigger later, the perpetrator had been quickly subdued, despite the sluggishly bleeding wound across Benjamin’s arm — as far as he was concerned, it was far from the worst that could’ve happened.

He hadn’t been thinking — but Luo Fei had been in danger. He’d have taken the bullet a hundred times over, graze or not.

“You would’ve done the same,” Benjamin says, and Luo Fei doesn’t reply, picking up the gauze strips and starting to rewrap the wound.

This close, Benjamin can see the long sweep of his eyelashes where they blink down under immaculately curled hair, the harsh cut of his jawbone and the line of his neck in stark contrast against the dark of his collar. He has every curve and edge of Luo Fei’s profile committed to memory, he thinks, could recognize him by touch alone if it came down to it, with trembling hands over a too-thin tarp, a bodybag.

They’re morbid thoughts — another symptom of his field, maybe.

Any regret he’s been harboring fades away in an instant as he studies the slight furrow in Luo Fei’s brow, the concentration in his eyes as he tapes down the dressing on Benjamin’s arm, fingers lingering to trail down to his forearm, where they circle his wrist gently enough for Benjamin to pull away, if he wanted to.

He doesn’t want to.

Benjamin looks up at Luo Fei with questioning eyes, and he can’t help but wonder what Luo Fei sees when he looks at him — Benjamin doesn’t doubt that his quiet longing is written across his face, obvious to anyone, genius detective or not.

If it is, Luo Fei doesn’t react, but he gives Benjamin a small, crooked smile, thumb rubbing circles across the back of his hand and sparking a dizzy rush across Benjamin’s skin.

It’s ridiculous how much he’s gone for Luo Fei, how much he’s been pining for his partner, his best friend, over the past few years. He’s sure Luo Fei knows — he has to know, doesn’t he?

And if he does, then the deadlock they’ve been trapped in is a sign, isn’t it? A hint — Benjamin’s had enough practice taking those, now. He can deal with it.

“Come have dinner at my place,” Luo Fei says, casual as anything. Benjamin snorts, ducking his head.

“You’re just saying that so you can make me cook for you,” Benjamin accuses, voice too fond for his own good.

Luo Fei smiles, honest and warm, when he mutters, “I’m wounded that you’d even suggest that, frankly,” and he laughs when Benjamin half-heartedly gives his shoulder a shove with his good arm.

“But, is that a yes?” There’s a twinkle in Luo Fei’s eye that has Benjamin already sure he has no choice in the matter either way, and Benjamin gives him an appraising look.

“To the cooking? Or to the dinner?” Benjamin eyes him suspiciously.

Luo Fei raises his hands in a placating gesture, before he grins, boyish. “Same difference, no?”

“You’re awful,” Benjamin says, but he’s already getting to his feet, rolling his eyes.

“You love me,” Luo Fei says with a flippant smile as he picks up his hat, placing it on his head with a theatric flourish.

Yeah, Benjamin thinks. I guess I do.

#detective l #feiben #luo fei #dl benjamin #本杰明

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