londoncallingrpg | It's About Balance

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It's About Balance - OTA

His new show had finally been announced, and he'd done a small round of press this morning. Radio, mostly. Just little interviews, mostly about his return to telly and the fact that he was starring in the reboot of a classic and beloved show. Nothing taxing, nothing thrilling. Just boring media- The side of the job Fin sort of wished he could skip. He managed to be his charming self though, deflecting when the questions got too personal, all while flirting shamelessly with a few of the interviewers. The public loved that, he'd found, and he wasn't shy about playing it up.

Mid-day found him wandering Covent Garden, two small shopping bags in one hand, Starbucks in the other. He was clean shaven, and his hair was getting a bit ridiculous again, just touching his shoulders as he walked, and occasionally getting in his face when he stopped to peek in shop windows. All and all, a dreadfully normal day. ...At least, it had been.

He'd been having little pains lately, ever since New Years. Nothing dreadful, but... Discomfort that was a bit too familiar. If felt like... It felt like his heart. Though it couldn't be, could it? Not now. not with his enchanted heart and fae blood. It had to be something mundane. Heartburn, perhaps. Something innocent.

That's what he kept telling himself- Even now when the pain returned. It was sudden and sharp, enough that he dropped his shopping and doubled over slightly, holding his chest and panicking a bit. He couldn't go to the hospital, couldn't risk them checking his blood... He had to do something though, and he pulled out his phone. Hand shaking, he wasn't sure which number he'd called. Wasn't even sure he'd managed to make a call.

(OTA- If you're friends with Fin, feel free to assume he called you! He's not well and could have easily called anyone in his contacts. ;) If you don't know Fin or your pup wouldn't be reachable for whatever reason, feel free to simply be in the right place at the right time. LT/ST very welcome. <3)

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Robin pulled into the garage and into his parking space. "Do you need help?" he asked, his voice a touch gentler as he unfastened his seatbelt and opened his door.

"I'll need you to guide me. I can't see," Fin admitted. "I don't carry my walking stick with me anymore."

Robin got out and went around to the other side of his car, took Fin's arm as he got out, and then led him to the elevator.

"Did you call me instead of Will because you don't want him to know?" he asked once they were inside and climbing to the penthouse.

He could have easily lied, but Fin wasn't one to fib if he didn't have to.

"I don't actually know who I meant to call. I was fumbling a bit when I pulled out my cell. I didn't know who I'd rung until you answered. ...Though I'm glad it was you. Will would have panicked," he confessed, holding on as they made their way to Rob's.

"I thought I was going to die."

He still wasn't convinced he wasn't on the edge of death.

Ah. Robin wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that.

"Good thing you didn't call your hairdresser instead," he said.

The elevator dinged and the door slid open. Robin led Fin into his apartment. "You can have my bed," he said. "I'll stay close."

"Thank you," Fin said holding Robin's arm and trying to visualize the space he was in- Though it was honestly hard to focus right now.

Pausing, he leaned over and kissed the puck's cheek.

Robin led him to the bed. "Rest," he said. "And concentrate. If I catch you asleep I'll wake you."

Fin lay down, nodding a little and focusing on healing- Nothing else.

It was a bit like going into a trance- The rest of the world seemed muted and dulled as he focused on the beat of his heart.

Robin watched him for a moment, and then went into the living room and poured himself a glass of wine, and then picked up a book and brought it into the bedroom. He sat in a chair there and drank and read, occasionally glancing over to make sure Fin was still breathing.

Fin was still, painfully still. Hours went by before he moved, sitting up a little.

His vision was still dark, but he looked a touch better. His face had colour again, but he still looked slightly off.

"Better," he said quietly. "I think my magic needs to rest though."

Robin looked up from the book, which he'd now nearly finished.

"Then don't use it for now," he said. "You can stay here until you're at your best again." He found himself relieved that Fin looked so much better.

"Thank you," Fin said softly. "For letting me stay, for taking me home. I still don't know what happened really."

He moved to sit cross-legged on the bed, wrapping his arms around himself briefly, then reaching out to Robin with one hand.

Robin set the book aside and then stood, coming to sit on the bed beside Fin.

"You're welcome," he said. "And you should talk to someone about this. Someone who actually knows."

Reaching out, Fin rested his hand on the other man's shoulder, using it to guide himself closer to the puck, then resting his head on his shoulder.

"Sure I will. I will," he said, but he wasn't sure that was true.

"Look, there are lots of reasons someone can die," said Robin. "But stupidity is an unacceptable one. Got it?"

Fin said nothing, moving closer still and nuzzling at Robin's neck. It wasn't necessarily sexual though, there was something soft and sweet about it. It was pure affection, pure love.

"I'll be alright," he promised. "I'll be alright, Robin. Don't worry."

Robin was less worried about whatever was actually wrong with him, and more worried with how he'd been talking in the care. But he still relaxed a little.

"You're feeling better?"

"No. ...Well, a bit. Yeah," Fin said softly, nuzzling at him again. "I feel tired, but I'm sure that's just, you know, the magic."

"Would you like a drink?" Robin asked. Then, as if an afterthought, "Or food?"

"Tea would be nice, actually," Fin admitted, offering a tired smile, then leaning in and kissing Robin softly.

He cupped the puck's face with two hands, suddenly overwhelmed by the idea that he could, truly, be dying. This could honestly be it. Last days. Last chances to do right by his friends and loved ones.

"You swear you aren't cross with me for New Years?" he asked gently.

Robin sighed softly. "You were selfish, insensitive, and stupid," he said. "You were also plastered. It doesn't seem like the kind of thing I should hold a grudge over."

"I could make it up to you," he said, letting his fingers roam over the puck's face, painting a picture in his head.

"You're beautiful, you know? ....Of course you know."

He stroked his thumb along his jaw, then smiled faintly. "We could have some real fun. You like real fun. I know someone I could call to get us the good stuff..."

Robin always reacted positively to praise, and this was no different. But he did say quietly, "As lovely as that sounds, you really think it's a good idea to do drugs after you just spent hours healing yourself?"

"If I do go out, why not go out with a bang?" Fin shrugged. "Besides, I'm fine- I'm fine."

He pushed his magic, forcing his vision to clear and come back. It was rough, but it worked. He blinked away the fuzzy vision, then found a smile.

"Ah, see it's that first part that concerns me," said Robin. "You know that I am rarely against hedonism, pet. Nor am I risk averse. But I do try to draw the line at intentionally self destructive. There is enough danger of destruction unintentionally."

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