AndreaLyn

They’ve stolen an ancient artifact in order to make a con go right, needing it temporarily for its genuine properties. It’s not supposed to be anything more than a rumoured piece of magic, a little trick of the light and sound and everything is normal behind it. “I mean, just because it says fountain of youth on the package, doesn’t mean it really ought to be,” Sean is saying nervously while the others stare at Ash.

“Would you all stop gaping?” Ash demands. “You’re like a bunch of goldfish.”

“Yeah, well,” Emma notes lamely. “You’re like…twenty.”

“Twenty-five,” Mickey adds his voice to the confused masses.

“He touched the artifact and suddenly he’s the most handsome one in the room. And young,” Sean belatedly adds, blinking rapidly. The silence that overtakes everyone means that Sean ought to take a look-see as to what’s going on and that what is that they’re all staring at him, which helps him to realize the little thing he just said. “What! Tell me he’s not gorgeous.”

“Not really the first thing on our minds, Sean,” Emma notes with concern.

“Yeah, well, does a bloke good to hear,” Ash admits with a crooked grin that makes something in Sean’s stomach tumble. Sean’s hearing goes sharp and sudden with a whoosh and he nearly misses Mickey’s sudden commands. Albert’s on research, Mickey is going to meet an old contact, Emma has to go meet some Doctor bloke who apparently is in and out of London and Sean is on guard duty.

Flipping over the cards and staring at Ash, he realises that this is a very bad idea. He wets his lips and clears his throat. “Don’t think Mickey knows about us,” Sean says, feeling like his voice is reedy. “I really don’t think he’d have left us alone if he knew.”

“Or he knows and he thinks that by the time you maul me and distract me with those still-incredible lips of yours, we’ll keep distracted and I won’t wander down to torment Eddie,” Ash drawls easily, flipping a card and claiming it in their little game of war. He keeps his steady gaze fixed on Sean, which is just unfair because it’s not as if he has a lot of control as of the moment.

Said lack of control is just proved correct when Sean lunges forward, cards toppling to the ground, and Ash falls onto his back. Sean doesn’t waste a second in pushing atop him and giving himself a moment’s pause as he hovers there above.

“Last chance,” Sean warns.

“Me last chance? I’m the one who’s your contemporary now. You ought to be the one terrified about how long I could last!”

Which, really, isn’t so scary to Sean so much as it’s the damn best thing he can ever, ever imagine.

Even the largest suites in London aren’t going to have enough beds, but Sean hadn’t exactly expected the whole crew to roll in the cot-on-wheels and give him a Look that said it wasn’t even a question as to who was sleeping on it.

“I need my privacy,” had been Mickey’s even-keeled defense as he rolls up his cuffs and claims a room.

Emma just shoots him a look. “We’re not kids anymore, Sean, we’re not sharing the bed,” and claims the other.

He doesn’t even want to protest when Albie merely hems and haws and claims the third.

Which leaves just him and Ash staring at the wheels of the cot. “C’mon,” Sean begs. It’s not like it’s the streets, but it’s not the most glamorous thing in the world and he’s seen inside all the private suites. They’re huge beds and private baths each. “Ash, please!”

“Seniority,” is all he says before claiming the last.

And at first, sure, Sean paid his dues and slept on the damn wheelie-cot. He put in his time and thought about the down-pillows that everyone else got to bed their heads on. He thought about high-count sheets and tried not to think about how Eddie was probably sleeping on a better mattress than he had.

On day ten, Sean decides that’s enough. He’s awake at two in the AM and grabs his pillow in hand. He doesn’t go for Emma’s door because she’d probably just boot his arse back to the cot. Mickey and Albie? No way, uh uh, not happening. Instead, he finds himself at Ash’s door with pillow in hand, standing in the doorway and casting a shadow in the moonlight.

Ash is barely asleep if his still-smoldering cigarette is an indication and Sean takes another step in, trying to still his beating heart. This is probably a mistake. It’s not like he’s absolutely compelled by a hero crush or anything. Not at all. Really. That’d be insane. Still, as he curls up on the other half of the king bed, he wonders if Ash could just make like a bad romantic movie on the television and bring him in close and tell him that he’s been waiting for him.

In response, he gets a snore.

Sean just lets out a laugh and settles on his back, hands folded on his chest as he imagines all the ways this morning after is going to go.

Sometimes, Emma wonders, if she’s become paranoid in her old age. It’s not that she’s old, but when she grew up at the tender age of five, every year after that seems long and stretched, a shadow drawn out too many steps on the pavement. Sean’s got this way of wearing his emotions on his sleeve and so she’s caught him looking at her and Mickey, grinding his teeth until they just might break. This time, though, it’s her turn to watch and wonder.

She’s drinking from the hotel bar and watching Sean lean forwardly eagerly, laughing at some joke Ash has just told while Sean’s gaze is rapt on Ash’s fingers as he deals cards. She must be going mad, but she could swear that there’s something more to Sean’s expression beyond respect and admiration.

Funny. She’d always thought Ash had something of a paternal love for Sean, but that doesn’t seem to be the vibe she’s picking up on and she knows vibes.

She sips at her drink and stares at the both of them until she feels a light touch to her elbow. “Has something intrigued you, my dear?” Albert wonders cordially as Emma keeps her gaze on Sean and Ash, touching and tapping fingers as they play card tricks and share wry smiles.

“Yeah,” she says, a million miles away. “Yeah, I think it has.”