Work Text:
Smudged
by Sam-Tony
He sits alone in front of the plate glass window that was the selling feature of his office, staring out at the lights of Chicago as they shine below his high rise perch, overlooking the city like some guardian angel. There is a glass of merlot at his elbow and he takes a familiar, deliberate sip. If he is an angel, his wings are heavy with the soot of past failures, past sins; barely able to lift him up above those that he now hunts. These days, barely is enough.
His purity of purpose has been smudged, blurred; redefined. White Knight, Black King…he thinks it’s a more noble purpose now, if that helps. His rational mind is still unsure, but Eliot was right; his conscience is clear.
It’s a few minutes until midnight and the new year promises to ring in loud and bright across the night sky and from his vantage point, he is in a position to see it all. He now realizes that the bright, gaudy colors of the fireworks he will see will mean nothing to the shades of grey in which he now walks. No longer a pure knight, he has become the muddied king he has spent countless years chasing. But in becoming the king, some of the knight yet remains to dull the black into that grey, and so his halo may be tarnished but, like his wings, he likes to think it still shines bright enough to do a little good.
There is still the chase; still bad guys he needs to go after so in that much his life is exactly the same. Only now he no longer needs to face the darkness alone…
“Thought I’d find you here.”
He smiles at the hint of exasperation in the soft gravel tone. He knew Eliot would be the one to find him. Never taking his eyes off the city spread out before him, he waves the glass vaguely back toward the other man he could barely see standing in his doorway. There is already a chair and another wine glass waiting.
He can feel the blue eyes on him as Eliot moves around the back of the chair to sit, favoring him with an assessing gaze. He sits, but resigned, almost warily; no doubt thinking Nate is drunk and in need of rescue from his depressive, brooding thoughts. Nate smiles and carries the glass to his lips. The slight bite of the alcohol goes down smooth.
“How many?”
“Two,” he answers and immediately knows from the sharp inhalation of breath that Eliot has misunderstood.
“Jesus, Nate - “
“Glasses, Eliot, not bottles.”
“Oh.”
He can see the confusion under the relief when the strong body relaxes back into the dark leather of his chair, Eliot taking his own glass and bringing it up to his lips. They’re smiling now, in that fond, smirky kind of way that makes Nate want to smile back, just to join in; Eliot accusing, “Bastard.”
“Probably.”
He smiles as Eliot takes a single sip from his glass before setting it firmly back on the table. He is still smiling as the younger man gets up and stalks over to him, standing in front of his chair and looking down on him as if he were weighing his options; options Nate had weighed, measured and accepted weeks ago.
He is smiling still as a strong, gentle hand tangles in his hair, pulling his head back for a first kiss just as the grandfather clock in the reception area chimes midnight and the fireworks in the their cheerful blooms of gaudy color shoot and flare over the city outside of his very expensive floor to ceiling window. For all of the strength and deadly grace in the strong man in front of him, the kiss is tender, almost tentative; the lips pressing against his an offering rather than a demand.
Soft lips and light stubble draw back, blue eyes flickering open to smile down at him from a greater height as that rough gravel drawl deepens to say, “Happy New Year, Nate.”
White Knight, Black King, Tarnished Angel - none of it mattered because whatever he had become, Nathan Ford was no longer in it alone.
“Yes,” he said, reaching up to run his fingers through the thick brown strands of Eliot’s hair, tugging him down for another kiss. “It is now.”
End