#lancival

James had seconds, and every person who knew him also knew, that this could never end well. But here he was, standing pressed to a wet stonewall that already drenched his suit, and Merlin would kill him for that, as much as would Percy, but he had a bigger problem: if he wasn’t doing anything soon, there would be no Percy to kill him anymore.

Percy, his partner is every way now, not quite husband yet but close, was standing in this alleyway, hands up, looking straight into the eyes of the person aiming a gun at his head. Even from his point aside James could see his face, his knowing face, knowing one thing: that he was utterly fucked right now.

Under different circumstances a Percival with that face would make him take a photo, but, yeah, right, bigger problems.

The worst was that his partner did not know he was here. And James also was not supposed to be here, he should be on the other side of the building, doing his part of the mission, but there was this nagging feeling at the back of his head, and as soon as he took over the security room he could see the space between two buildings where a rain soaked Percy was, what was definitely considered, in combat with someone in a lighter suit. When James arrived, lightsuit seemed to have already taken control of the situation, Percys blades in the mud (oh he would never hear the bloody end of that if, no, when he got him out of here, hell no!)

Merlin was no help, he had as much visual as James and orders from Arthur were the last thing on his mind right now.

At least Percy was still alive, a small mercy. It seemed as if he tried to talk his way out of it - and for as much as he was an observant person, he did not have a silver tongue. Never had. Talking was James’ strong suit, well, he considered it his at least. At least he was talking a reasonable amount of time a day.

Now Percy was talking and that was not… not good.

He slowly moved forward, trying to keep his feet on the few visible dry spots as to not make a sound, pressed against the wall as much as he could without making a sound. Impossible, of course, but he had always taken pride in doing the impossible. Hell, he died one time, beat that!

His gun was ready, silencer long since on it, steady hands holding it, finger on the trigger. A few more inches before he could get a clear shot. Percys hands were still in the air as there were a minute ago, but upon getting closer there was more to see. Blood on his cheek, mud on his clothes. He could see his stiff posture, he was holding himself up with more force than he should. Being stubborn could not deflect a bullet, sadly. If so, Percy could himself offer for gun-training.

One last inch. A sound, as lightsuit laughed. James swallowed soundlessly, blinked, his hand steady, ready, clear and… there was a slight, almost nonexistent whistle as he pulled the trigger, sending lightsuit to the ground soundlessly until he hit the mud with a satisfying wet sound. He ignored the blood and brain matter splattered on the opposite wall, instead focusing on his Partner. There was a sigh, a sharp intake of breath from him and his shoulders slumped, some of the tension leaving them as he turned his head to face James, lowering his hands now. He still remained somewhat stiff.

“You took your bloody fucking time, James!” Percy took a step forward and immeadiatly bit his lip, swaying but steadying himself on the wall. It only took him a second to push away from it, mere inches away from the mess that once was inside lightsuits head.

“Sorry darling, I didn’t fancy the idea of shooting a piece out of you too, you know.” He stepped closer, gun still in hand, ready for anything else. Yes, they still were in enemy territory, but for a moment he allowed himself a quick look over his partner.

“The suits are-” he winced and put one hand to his torso, hovering there, not touching. “bulletproof, for fuck’s sake James. Bloody idiot broke at least two of my ribs.” James winced in sympathy but ignored the quiet whine as he put a hand on his head to press a kiss to his forehead.

“You’re okay?” he asked for the first time, looking Percys face over but finding nothing but a scratch on his cheek. His glasses were dirty. Dirty glasses, dirty blades, it really wasn’t a good day.

“Fine.” Percy grumbled and gave a pained sigh. “Can we finish this now? I need a shower, the kind where I stay in there for days.”

James bent down to pick up the blades and handed them back to his partner.

“And some really good painkillers I assume?” Percy took the blades from him, wincing again and it wasn’t clear if it was from the movement or the state they were in. There was a high chance it was both.

“Oh shut up.” It’s a thank you and he knows it.