FIC - Purity of Intention (6/?)

[oceansecrets2.livejournal.com]

Title: Purity of Intention (6/ ?)
Author: namarie120 and arieltachna
Type: RPS / FPS crossover
Pairing: Diego / Orlando
Rating: NC-17
Warning: none
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, created for entertainment and enjoyment only. With all due respect, we do not own these characters, either the actors or those created by Arturo Pérez-Reverte. We just think it’s a fascinating world.
Feedback: would be wonderful
Beta: sileya
Summary: A cynical swordsman is hired to return a runaway – or so it appears
A/N: Thanks to tularia for the beautiful banner






~~~~~~~


Orlando stiffened. Given that Íñigo was standing right there, having brought the other man into the room, he assumed the newcomer was this Roux whom Diego trusted so completely that he called for him in time of need. That did not bother him so much. It made sense that the swordsman would have trusted friends. What bothered him, set his nerves on edge so much that he could feel his hackles rising, was the familiar, lustful way Roux was watching his Diego.

Alatriste eased back into the chair, grinning at his old comrade-in-arms. “You saw it often enough during the war,” the swordsman agreed, “though I would have preferred to have spared you the sight today.” He shifted his shoulder tentatively, testing the range of motion the bandage permitted, then motioned to Íñigo to bring him a clean shirt. “As it is, I have a … situation … in which I could use your help.”

“A situation?” Roux asked with amusement. He knew Diego would not have sent for him if the ‘situation’, as his friend called it, was not serious, but he could not help but notice the way the young man behind his friend had reacted. It had been eight years since Diego had a steady lover. Roux had always known that their relationship was as much about convenience as anything else and had let it end willingly along with the end of the war. Since then, he had watched his friend satisfy his body in the arms of the willing señoritas, but nothing had satisfied the mercenary’s heart. Roux suspected nothing would as long as he lived the solitary life of a hired sword. Something in the young man’s mien suggested a more than platonic interest. “Would it have something to do with your young man?”

Carefully pulling the shirt Íñigo handed him over his head, Diego grimaced at the tone in the gypsy’s voice. He and Roux had never pretended their time together was any more than it was, and they had remained friends after the end of the war that had drawn them together. There was no one else he would trust to keep Orlando safe, even if it meant enduring the gypsy’s innuendos in return. He had no idea how the other man had sensed his interest in Orlando from a single glance, but Roux had always had ways of knowing things that nothing could explain. “He’s not my young man,” Alatriste answered dryly, “he’s my responsibility to keep safe. As you can see, it is not an easy task.”

Orlando frowned at the gypsy’s words. Your young man… The words echoed in Orlando’s heart, wishing as he did that they were true. Diego’s response, though, dashed what little hope remained. He dropped his eyes, backing away from the swordsman’s chair.

Roux smirked at Alatriste’s comment. He would watch and wait, but he decided immediately that he would find a way to encourage the undercurrents he felt in the room. “Apparently not,” he agreed. “So what do you want me to do?”

Briefly, Alatriste described to Roux the pretext under which McKellen had hired him, and the truth Orlando had revealed after Diego had incapacitated his bodyguard. “We need to find some way to stop McKellen from simply hiring someone else to capture Orlando – Señor Bloom,” the swordsman concluded.

“You never have simple problems, do you, amigo?” Roux asked with a smirk. He heard Diego’s slip and was surprised by it. It was rare to hear a given name from the swordsman’s lips in this society of formality in which they lived. “No, you could not have needed me to just patch up your shoulder or your heart. You have to bring me something complicated.”

“I do my best to alleviate the tedium of your existence, and this is the thanks I get?” Diego retorted, knowing the gypsy would remember similar comments from the time they shared together. He beckoned for his friend to join him at the small table. “Let us put our heads together and see if we can find some weakness on McKellen’s part we can exploit.”

“You shouldn’t be sitting at the table!” Orlando protested, jealousy surging at the familiar way the two men addressed each other. “You told me you’d go to bed when Roux arrived.”

“Your ward didn’t tell me that was what you needed me for,” Roux replied with an arched brow, amusement growing at the young man’s reactions.

Used to the pair’s interaction, Íñigo merely shook his head as Diego grinned at the gypsy. “You think because I’m injured you can finally keep up with me?” Alatriste jested. He would not be so bold with anyone else, or if they were in a public place, but with Roux he could let his guard slip a bit and display the humor he so rarely allowed himself to express.

Orlando’s frustration exploded along with his jealousy. It seemed Diego did enjoy the company of men – or one man anyway – so it must be Orlando he did not want. He could deal, had dealt, with much in his life, but he did not think he could stand to watch another man flirt with the man he wanted. “This is not the time for casual jests and flirtations! Two men attacked us today, and McKellan is not likely to stop simply because those two failed. They are not the first he has hired to kidnap me and they will certainly not be the last.” He focused on Diego, making himself concentrate on the swordsman’s face, not the alluringly bared chest. “You said we would stop him. How is this… this gypsy supposed to help when all you do is trade insults and innuendos?”

“Roux has all manner of unexpected talents,” Alatriste answered, biting back his anger at Orlando’s outburst. He told himself he should not be surprised at the younger man’s impatience with his spending a moment laughing with his friend – the nobleman obviously had no use for anything other than Diego’s prowess with a sword. Reminding himself that freeing his charge from McKellen’s threat was his only responsibility, he thrust his useless fantasies out of his mind and returned to business. “Can you find where McKellen is living in Madrid?” he asked Roux. “Perhaps by searching his rooms we can discover something we can use to stop him.”

Embarrassed at being scolded like a child and mollified by the suggestion, Orlando subsided, sulking.

Across the room, Íñigo hid his grin at seeing the aristocrat called down like the spoiled brat he was. He had been afraid the Capitán would not see it, but he should have had more faith in his guardian. Diego Alatriste was nobody's fool.

Roux shook his head at the foolishness of youth, except that it appeared Diego had caught that malady as well. "I will find where he is living," he assured his friend. "After that, we will see about searching his rooms. Even one of my unexpected talents cannot gain entrance to all quarters. Before I go, though, I will take a look at that wound. You always were worthless at the healing arts. Let us get you into bed."

Knowing it was useless to argue with Roux, Alatriste let the slighter man help him up and lead him into the bedroom, grimacing as the bandage was removed from his injured shoulder.

As he reached the threshold to the other room, Roux turned back to Íñigo. “Fetch some more bandages, mijo,” he ordered. “These are too dirty to reuse.”

Íñigo left the room, knowing better than to argue with the gypsy. He might occasionally question the Capitán, but he was far too in awe of the other man to say anything.

Seeing that the boy was following orders, Roux turned back to Diego and helped him into the bedroom. He kicked the door hard enough that it swung shut, but did not quite latch. Looking around the room, he saw it had changed little. “So where did your young man sleep last night?” he teased. “I see Íñigo’s cot and your bed, but nothing else. Do not tell me you made him sleep on the floor.”

Lowering himself onto the rumpled sheets with a grunt of pain, Diego scowled. "He slept here," he admitted, settling against the pillows. "Don't," he added in warning as Roux's expression changed to a knowing grin. "He slept. That is all."

“And why is that?” the gypsy challenged, seeing the dejection on his friend’s face. “Why would you not take what he is offering you?”

Outside the room, Orlando flinched at Roux’s words. If his interest was so obvious even a stranger could see it, then he could not even pretend to himself that Diego was unaware of his desires. He would do better to banish this infatuation before it turned into more.

"Offering me?" Diego scoffed. "He sees me as a mercenary who tried to kill his friend. He puts up with me because he has no one else. As soon as he is free of McKellen's threat, he will be gone."

“I see you are as blind as ever, amigo. The question is not if he wants you, but if you want him,” Roux said, shaking his head as he untied the bandage Orlando had fashioned around Diego’s shoulder. He examined the wound critically before reaching into his pouch for some crushed herbs. “Do you have fresh water here? These will be more effective wet.”

Orlando flinched again. He already knew the swordsman did not want him. He thought Orlando little more than a child, incapable of defending himself or of knowing his own mind. He slumped in the chair Diego had just vacated. Perhaps it would be better to return to Málaga and take his chances with Eric.

"In the pitcher – in the other room," Diego hissed as the bandage was peeled away from his skin. "When have we ever had the luxury to indulge our own wants?" he added dourly as the gypsy turned toward the door. "

“Would you, though?” Roux challenged, starting back toward the door. “If things were different, would you want him?”

For just a moment, Alatriste let himself imagine Orlando entwined with him in his bed, imagined there was any possible way the two of them could be together. Sure that Roux could read the naked longing in his eyes, he dropped his gaze to the spot where Orlando had lain the night before. "Why do you ask questions to which you already know the answer?" he complained. It did not matter what he wanted. He would fulfill his duty to the younger man, and that would be all.

“I wanted to make sure you knew the answer,” Roux replied, stepping into the other room.

Orlando looked up at the gypsy, wondering how to interpret the look on the older man’s face. Diego’s words had given him pause. He had been so sure the mercenary had no use for him, yet the man’s last words seemed to suggest otherwise. Rising to his feet, he declared, “You should show me what Diego needs done to help him heal. If you go after McKellen, tending to him will fall to me.”

"Come with me, then, guapo," Roux replied, gathering the pitcher of water. Before they went back into the bedroom, he caught the young man's arm. "Diego deserves only the best," he growled. "Hurt him, and you'll answer to me, comprende?"

Orlando blinked, his surprise growing. Was the gypsy giving him... permission? And if so, did that mean he thought Diego was interested in Orlando? "I would never hurt him intentionally," he settled on for an answer.

Roux nodded, silently appraising the young man. He saw a depth of character there had would not have expected in one so young, but he recognized an old soul when he saw one. His instincts told him this one would be good for Diego, if only the stubborn Spaniard would let him be. Caring for the swordsman would give the Englishman plenty of opportunities to get close. He only hoped Orlando had enough experience to take advantage of the situation. "Vamos," he said, leading the young man back into Diego's room.

Alatriste tensed when Roux motioned for Orlando to take his place at the swordsman's bedside. Instinctively he twitched his hips away from contact with the Englishman's thighs as the younger man settled onto the edge of the thin mattress. Diego shot a glare at the gypsy, who raised an eyebrow and returned an innocent smile. "If I am to find McKellen's lair, the Inglés will need to care for you while I am gone," Roux explained reasonably.

"Just bandage me up again and I will be fine," Diego demanded. As much as he wanted to insist on accompanying Roux to find McKellen, he knew the gypsy would not allow it in his current condition. He had conceded to himself that he needed to rest and regain his strength so he could take action once they determined how to approach McKellen, but he had not counted on having to struggle against his growing attraction to the Englishman at the same time.

"And if it gets infected?" Orlando demanded. "If Roux is searching for McKellen, he will not be free to come tend to you. Better that he shows me what to do now." He looked up at Roux and waited for the gypsy's directions.

Roux grinned pointedly at Diego as he handed the herbs to the Englishman. "Dip them in the water, spread them across the wound, then bandage him as before. You will need to change the dressings twice a day until the skin closes." He almost wished he could stay to watch his friend struggle against his attraction to his commission, but Diego was right. They needed to find the source of the threat. He would give them one more push in the right direction. The rest would be up to them. "You should also bathe him during the day to keep his temperature down. Even with the herbs, he will probably develop a fever, and if it gets too high, it could kill him. Make sure to keep him cool at all times."

Fixing a pointed glare at his supposed friend, Diego braced himself for the touch of Orlando's hands against his chest. He would consider a way to repay Roux for his treachery later; right now all his consciousness was focused on the ripples of heat that fanned over his skin wherever the Englishman's slender fingers spread the paste of herbs over his wound. He concentrated on the pain, and the realization that the fingertips were uncallused, confirming his suspicions that the nobleman had little experience wielding his sword – anything to distract himself from the growing ache that had nothing to do with the pain of his wound.

Roux watched for a moment, observing the Englishman's care. Seeing nothing to fault in it, he addressed his friend once more. "Since you are in such capable hands, I will begin my search. How long it will take me depends on how determined this snake is not to be found. I will return when I have news." He looked at Orlando one more time, his gaze hardening. "Remember what I told you."

Orlando nodded as the gypsy disappeared. Then he turned his attention back to Diego, tying off the bandage and laying his hand across the Spaniard's forehead. "Roux is right. I can feel the fever starting already." Picking up a rag, he dipped it in the water, brushing it across Alatriste's neck, the tips of his fingers slipping off the edge of the cloth to lightly caress the stubbled skin.

A shiver shook through Alatriste's frame, the gentle scrape of Orlando's fingertips more overwhelming than the cool trickle of water down the side of his throat. He caught the hand holding the cloth in his own, his pale gaze flickering up to lock with the younger man's molten chocolate eyes. The heat in his blood grew as he recognized an answering flare. So Roux was right, as he always was – Orlando did want him. It changed nothing. Letting his eyelids fall to hood his gaze, he plucked the cloth from the Englishman's slackened grasp and rubbed it wearily across the nape of his neck, knowing the cool water would be powerless to dampen the fever that consumed him.

"Let me take care of you," Orlando requested softly. "Let me..." He could not say what he wanted, not without some greater assurance that his interest was returned. He met Diego's eyes, holding his gaze, willing the other man to acknowledge him, his interest.

Diego shook his head, unable to prevent another shudder from wracking him. He wiped a hand over the sweat that dotted his forehead, recognizing the beginning stage of fever. Damn Roux for always being correct! He let himself settle deeper into the pillows, closing his eyes, hoping Orlando would think he had fallen asleep.

Orlando saw the beads of sweat and the closed eyes and recognized them for the fever they were. Cursing under his breath, he looked around for another rag, soaking it in the water and wiping Diego's brow and down over his chest, all attempt at seduction gone now. Yes, he wanted the swordsman, but he would not risk the other man's health in a game of desire.

The door to the apartments slammed as Íñigo rushed in, his arms full of clean rags and a pitcher of fresh water. "I brought everything Caridad had that could be used for bandages," the boy announced, his gaze flickering around the bedchamber before coming to rest on his guardian reclining on the bed. "Where is Roux?" he demanded, his voice rough with concern. "Why did he leave the Capitán with you?"

Orlando waved his hand at the boy to get him to lower his voice, continuing his gentle stroking as he felt Diego react to the noise. "He went in search of the man who hired the Capitán," he told Íñigo softly. "He showed me what to do before he left.” His gaze fell to the wounded man on the bed. “He's asleep now, but when he wakes, we'll have to change the bandage again since I reused one of the old ones."

The younger man's first instinct was to order Señor Bloom away from his guardian, to demand to care for the Capitán himself. Watching the gentle way in which the stranger used the moistened cloth to cool the Capitán's fever, and the way his gaze never left the Capitán's face, gave Íñigo pause. He realized with surprise that the Englishman was as worried about his guardian as Íñigo was himself.

"Roux would not leave the Capitán if he thought he was in danger," Íñigo reassured himself as well as the foreigner. He recognized also that the gypsy would not have left if he did not trust the Englishman – another point in the other man's favour. Íñigo paused, remembering how the Capitán had reacted on other occasions he had been wounded. "He will not be able to eat much until the fever drops," he considered. "I will ask Caridad to make some broth for him to drink when he awakes."

Floating in a hazy state between sleep and wakefulness, Diego lay with his eyes closed, listening to the quiet voices surrounding him. He supposed he ought to let the others know he was not unconscious, but the soothing strokes of the cool cloth over his heated flesh and the musical tones of the foreigner's soft voice were lulling him into a state of peacefulness he felt all too seldom.

"That is a good idea," Orlando agreed. "Do you suppose she could spare some stew or something for us as well? I do not know how long we will have to watch him, but I would rather not leave his side or the rooms, not without him to protect me. I was foolish in Málaga, an experience I would not care to repeat." He brushed a cool hand across Diego's forehead. "My next kidnapper would probably not be as honorable as the Capitán."

Pleased to see that the Englishman was beginning to recognize the Capitán's worth, Íñigo nodded. Hungry himself, and more comfortable now that he had another useful task to perform, the boy decided it would be safe to leave his guardian for a short time in the foreigner's hands. "I will see what I can find for us to eat," he agreed, offering a small smile before he hurried back downstairs to the inn kitchen.

When he was alone with his patient again, Orlando brushed the shaggy hair away from Diego's brow and lowered his head, brushing his lips across the creased forehead. Even in repose, it seemed, the older man could not abandon all care. "Rest," he urged. "I will keep watch until Roux returns."

Rising, he went into the other room to retrieve his sword. Though unwieldy in close quarters, he felt better in command of it than of Diego's long knife. Setting the sword across his knees, he retrieved the cloth and used it to idly bathe the Spaniard's neck and chest, hoping to keep him comfortable.

Diego struggled to open his eyes, but an unwelcome and ill-timed weakness weighed them down. He had been wounded enough times before to know he would do better to give in to the lethargy and let his body mend itself, but it warred with his duty to keep the Englishman safe, and his desire not to lose any portion of the time he had in Orlando's company, knowing as he did it would be all too brief. When he felt the gentle brush of what felt like a kiss on his forehead, he could not tell whether it was real or merely a product of his longing and his delirium. His eyelids fluttered as he fought once more for wakefulness, but it was a battle he was destined to lose. Cool hands caressed his chest, and he gave himself over to the dream in which he had the right to touch in return.


tbc…

Comments

[schizojuc.livejournal.com]

They are making some progress now! =D Now Orlando needs to know of Diego's feelings for him as well and the fireworks can start! =) I am enjoying this!

[oceansecrets2.livejournal.com]

It may be hard for Diego to maintain his control while he's delirious... :-)

[sarkka]

Way to go Roux ;)

I always love jealous!Orli =)

[oceansecrets2.livejournal.com]

At least now he knows Diego won't be shocked by the very idea that he's attracted to him! And jealous!Orli has far more reason to be grateful to Roux, though he doesn't realize it yet.