Re: In Time RP (Polo!)

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

When Griffin woke in the morning, Toby was already up, bustling around the kitchen. But it wasn't that that woke him. Rather, the sound of his usual morning alarm split his head like a sledgehammer, and long after he'd smacked the clock into silence, his head continued to ring. Thanks to the water the night before he was not as hungover as he could have been, but he still felt far from wonderful. And his eyes were dry and sore, although that had little to do with the drinking.
He emerged from his room like some blind creature from a dark cave, squinting at the light and shielding his eyes. When he reached the lounge, Toby was already there.
"You look terrible." His friend greeted him pleasantly, and Griffin grunted in response, "Cheers." He nodded to Toby's bruised, battered chest, "So do you."
Plonking himself down on the couch, he groaned, rubbing his temples tenderly. Toby vanished into the kitchen, and when he returned a few minutes later, he was carrying a couple of mugs, filled to the brim with piping hot coffee. Smiling gratefully, Griffin accepted his and took a sip.
"Aaah..." He sighed, instantly relaxing as he cradled the salty beverage, "Now that hits the spot..."
"I'm going to head back to the lair at nine." Toby told him, sitting down beside him, "If you want to skip work you can come with me, if you like."
"I don't much feel like going to work." Griff admitted, pulling a face, "But I'll have to see what my boss says first. I'll call him now."
Setting down his coffee, he picked up his phone and dialed his boss's number.
A short conversation later, he had managed to convince the Chief that he was, in fact, deathly ill. He had been granted the day off.
"Okay," He tossed the phone carelessly over his shoulder, "I'm a free man. So what's the plan?" He looked up at Toby, intelligent eyes blinking curiously. He was clearly in desperate need of some quality entertainment.

[Dreambug]

Toby watched his friend as he dismissed himself to talk to his boss, and turned back to the TV with a sigh. His eyes were hurting from staring at the screen for so long... Then he noticed his bare stomach on show - along with the horrible bruises that came with it - and zipped the jacket up with a flush of his cheeks. If he didn't want to make things weird he'd have to keep an eye on himself... He'd picked up some bad habits due to the reaction he kept getting from Griff about his muscles.
After a couple of minutes chatting to his boss, Griffin wandered back in the room with the phone in his hand, then threw it carelessly over his shoulder.
"Okay. I'm a free man. So what's the plan?"
Toby paused. "Um... We go to the lair?" He said unhelpfully, sipping at his coffee. He hadn't planned it yet. But he'd figure something out... Either that or they could play chess on their phones until it killed them both.
"Well I need to get back into shape." He murmured, absentmindedly rubbing his bruised stomach. "You can either work out too, watch me, or bring your DS." He winked cheekily. Poor Griff had been dragged into his rather boring day.
"I'd recommend playing Danger in the Dark, but since we're both a little sore, it probably wouldn't work."

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

"That sounds like so much fun." Griffin said sarcastically, a completely lackluster expression on his face, "Seriously, Superman. Watching you work out is all I've ever dreamed of. It's not like I'll be bored out of my mind or anything." Rolling his eyes, he grabbed his PSP - he had an intense game of Final Fantasy going there - and dropped it into his bag, along with his cellphone (which he retrieved from halfway across the room, remarkably unharmed) and his keys.
"I assume you've got your keys, since you've mutilated my fruit bowl." He grumbled, casting a sorrowful glance at the apple core lying on the kitchen table like a wounded soldier. "In that case, you can get yourself to the lair, and finish your stupid workouts. I've got some business in Dayton anyway." He touched the frayed leather bracelet woven around his wrist, frowning absentmindedly, "I'll meet you there a little later. Maybe I'll bring snacks, if I feel like it."
Flashing a smirk, he swiped his house keys off a hook near the door, then let himself out, pausing briefly to wait for Toby.

The pair headed to the garage - Griff to his car and Toby to his bike - and both started up their vehicles, departing Griffin's driveway to take on the open road together.
When they reached Dayton, Griffin left Toby to head off in his own direction. More specifically, in the direction of a certain parking lot, which had once been a ghetto graveyard.
He missed his mother. And sad as it was that an empty parking lot was the closest he could get to her, it couldn't be helped.
When he arrived, he stopped his car in the street outside the parking lot; ironic, really, but knowing that under that concrete floor the dead lay sleeping, he simply couldn't bring himself to drive over it. From his bag, he produced a flower - it had been a few days since he'd bought it, so it was already starting to wilt - and vaulted easily over the high metal fence surrounding the parking lot. He landed lightly on the concrete, and strode the familiar path, trodden into his memory, to where his mother's remains lay resting.
"Hi Mom."
He stopped, staring dolefully down at the ground, and dropped the wilting lily onto the cold ground. His mother had loved lillies...
Sighing, Griff slowly sat down, moving his sore limbs gingerly, and crossed his legs.
"I miss you..." He whispered into the silence, closing his eyes, and letting the gentle breeze lull him.
"I've really needed your guidance, with all that's happened lately. With Toby, and Paisley... I try to do the right thing, but sometimes it's so hard..." He frowned, picking at a rough spot on the concrete, "I just wish that I had you here to show me the way..."
For a while longer, Griffin went on speaking quietly to a mother that he knew deep down couldn't hear a word he said. He lost track of time, sitting there alone, but when he heard the distant sound of soft footsteps, he figured that it was time to leave.
Sighing, he pushed himself slowly to his feet. As he was brushing the dust from his pants, he heard the footsteps quicken to a run. He froze.
Spinning around in the nick of time, Griffin saw his attacker coming. The man looked half mad, his ragged T-shirt soaked with sweat, and his eyes stretched wide with fear. Tear tracks cut through the grime on his stress-lined face and, seeing this, Griff couldn't help but take pity.
"Hey," He stepped forward, raising his hands to calm the frightened citizen, "What's the-"
"Give me your time!" Without slowing, the man slammed into him, grabbing him by the collar and pressing a knife to his throat. Griff saw the man's eyes flick to his wrist, and he let his own gaze follow. No wonder the poor thing was in such a state. He was down to his last minute.
"Calm down," Griffin began gently, but the blade was pressed more firmly to his throat, and his attacker drew in a frightened gasp of breath and shouted, "Don't move!"
Clumsy hands fumbled for his wrist. He could feel the man's frantic cold sweat. The fingers that closer about his arm were not experienced ones.
With a quiet ticking sound, he heard his time start slipping away.
"Hey," He pulled away, suddenly nervous, "What do you think you're doing? Let me go!" He jerked his arm back, and was met by threatening bit of steel at his throat.
"Are you f*cking kidding me?!" Temper flaring, Griffin lunged forward and heatbutted the poor fellow, sending him staggering back, clutching a bloody nose. He looked at his wrist, then spun around and took off running.
"Good riddance!" Griff called after him, stumbling forward as his own head throbbed dizzily. Then he looked at his arm.
Five minutes?!
He hadn't been too concerned about losing a few weeks to that poor beggar, but to have twenty five years snatched in a matter of seconds was another story entirely. He didn't even know how it had happened.
"Hey you! Get back here!" He shouted angrily, throwing himself into a sprint. He ran for the car park fence and vaulted over, but even as he chased his quarry down the street, he could feel his lungs starting to fail him. He still felt sick from the night before.
"Come back!" He demanded furiously, "Goddammit, come here or I'll f*cking arrest you..."
The thief put on another burst of speed, vanishing around a distant corner, and Griff felt his legs give out beneath him.
"Wait..." With a feeble murmur, he dropped to his knees in despair, staring after his lost time. Then he looked at his wrist, and his heart damn near stopped.
I've got four minutes!
He blanched at the sight, suddenly overcome with terror as he looked fate right in the eye. He was too far from home, too far from a time bank, too far from-
Toby!
Clutching at his last desperate hope, he scrambled to his feet and sprinted to his car, juggling his cellphone and keys as he threw himself into the driver's seat and dialed his friend's number.
"Toby!" He gasped, shocked to hear the shaking in his own voice as he revved his car into action. "I need time." His wide eyes fell upon his wrist. 3:30. "I'm on the outskirts of Dayton now, near the railway station." 3:25. His voice started to shake, and the Mazda's engine roared as he stamped flat down on the accelerator, sending it speeding out of Dayton, and out onto the wastelands leading to the lair. "You'll see me. Just hurry." 3:10. "Please, hurry!"

[Dreambug]

Toby headed to the lair on his own to work out, glad to finally be reunited with his trusted motorbike once again. It probably wouldn't last much longer, but at least he had the Time to buy another one if worst came to worst. Or get a car. Although a car would probably use too much space... At least he'd be able to sleep in it.
For a good hour he was at the lair, either hung upside down and lifting himself up to his feet, or pulling himself up each level of the bar-ladder. For the rest of the time he was in the darkest corner of the room beating the punchbags to death and imagining each one had Paisley's face on it.
When he heard his phone ringing he stopped, frowning, and pulled it out of his pocket. He noticed Griffin's name and rolled his eyes. The poor guy was probably bored somewhere.
He answered it.
"Griff, wh-"
"Toby!" His eyebrows shot skywards at the urgency in his friend's voice. "I need Time. I'm on the outskirts of Dayton now, near the railway station."
Toby could have dropped his phone. What exactly had his friend been doing that would get him in view of Timetakers? Then again... Any poor sod with no Time would do anything for it, even steal from the nearest passer-by.
"Okay, I'm on it." He assured his friend quickly, running to the elevator.
"You'll see me. Just hurry. Please, hurry!"
"I will." Toby gasped, bursting out the door of the lair and vaulting his bike. "I promise."
And he did. As soon as his bike jolted into life he sped down the dusty wasteland, pulling on a pair of shades as he went to protect his eyes. The outskirts of Dayton would late five minutes to get to if he was lucky, and he wasn't sure how much Time his friend had left. But by he sound of it Griff had got into his Mazda, so Toby prayed this would give him the boost he needed.
He took the shortest, bumpiest route to the highway and sped down the road, until the shining Mazda finally came into sight. He skidded the bike to a halt, parking it sideways on the quiet, almost untouched road as he waited for his friend to arrive.
Hold on, mate. He thought, yanking off his armwarmer as quickly as he could. I'm here for you.

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

When Griffin hung up the phone, he looked at his wrist again. Two minutes and fifty seconds. He heard somebody groaning in despair, and it took nearly half of his remaining lifetime to realize that it was him. He shifted the Mazda up a gear, even as the engine began to whine in protest, and the tyres skidded on the dusty wasteland. It wasn't built for off road. He looked at his wrist again. One minute ten.
"Come on!" His voice rose near hysteria, cracking with the shout. "Go! Faster, damn it!" He slammed his hands so hard against the steering wheel that he could feel them bruise, and again he floored the accelerator. A glance at the speedometer showed that he was going well over 200. His clock showed one flat.
"GO!" His cry turned into a sob as he watched his time drop into the seconds, and with each heartstopping tick, he felt his hope drain away. "Toby, where are you?!"
55. 54. 53.
"Toby!" On the horizon, a glimmer of hope appeared; a rusty old bike with a familiar figure astride it, shimmering in the heat haze. Griffin's heart leaped. They were just up ahead, and he had a minute. He could make it!
A laugh jumped from his lips, or perhaps it was a sob. In his relieved state, he couldn't quite be sure. The distance between him and Toby was closing. Two kilometers. One. Five hundred meters. Now it was just the railway separating him from his friend, and he still had thirty seconds on the clock. He would make it. Barely in the nick of time, but he would-
BANG!
With a sound like gunfire, the Mazda crashed over the railway, getting airborne from the speed, and hitting the ground so hard that Griffin felt his neck snap back with the impact. The wheels slid on the dusty ground, and he cursed as he spun the steering wheel left and right, battling to get the vehicle under control. He chanced a glance at his wrist. Twenty seconds. A lump of panic rose in his throat, and he slammed his foot down on the accelerator. The engine whined, then coughed, spluttering with dust and damage.
"Come on!" Griffin screamed, stamping on the pedal hysterically, "Go, GO!" But the car was spinning madly out of control, sliding left and right, and gradually slowing as the horrible whir of the dead engine grew louder.
Cursing, he threw open the door, and jumped.
The ground rushed up to meet him faster than he'd expected, and he yelped with pain as his shoulder struck down hard, throwing him into a roll. Twice the dirt spun him, and then somehow he was on his feet, running, clutching at a shoulder that was clearly dislocated at best. Behind him, the Mazda was still skidding to a stop.
Lifting his injured arm, he looked at his wrist. Ten seconds.
Eyes wide with fear and streaming in the wind, he looked out across the wasteland. Toby was 100 meters away.
I can't do it! His feet moved faster, flying over the ground. He stumbled. I can't! I won't make it!
"Toby!" He heard his own hysteric voice scream his friend's name, and he threw his arm out in front of him, like a relay runner passing a baton.
Five. Four. Three.
I won't make it...
"Toby, hurry!" His voice cracked. Ten meters left. He stumbled again, shoes losing traction in the dirt.
Two.
He could see the whites of Toby's eyes. His outstretched fingers reached for his friend's arm. He closed his eyes.
One.

[Dreambug]

Toby's perception of Time seemed to be dragged to a halt as he watched the shining Mazda jump and fly into the air as it jolted over the trainline, the wheels spinning desperately. Then, quicker than Toby could react to, the tyres lost the grip of the loose terrain and turned continuously, wheeling at least four hundred degrees until it finally skidded to a stop. A body flew aimlessly out of the driver's seat, limbs flying like a rag doll, and at the sight of Griffin's long, shaggy hair, Toby's heart leapt in his mouth.
He leapt into a sprint, as fast as his legs would carry him.
Miraculously the body found it's feet, and with a look of pain Griffin began running towards him, stumbling in his desperation.
Just a little further... Toby thought, sweat forming on his brow. He was glad for he workout before, because otherwise he would have been far too stiff to run so far. His beady eyes locked on Griffin's hand, ripping off his shades so he'd be able to see easier. The digits were ticking away.
Griff might have screamed his name, but it was lost in the wind by the Time Toby was in the range to hear it.
The two collided like attracting magnets, their bruised chests bouncing together painfully. Toby had managed to grab his friend's wrist in the process, but the effort caused him to fall to his knees, dragging Griff with him.
Immediately his own Time began to disappear. Panting, his eyes flicked over Griff's own Time, and at the little difference compared to the Time Toby was lending him, it seemed that until he had reached him, Griff only had seconds to live.
Toby released his grip once he had distributed a small handful of days, then he finally glanced up to study the damage that the spinning car had done to his friend's already battered body. Griff's shoulder was swollen, no wonder he'd been clasping it, and his clothes were covered in dirt.
"God..." He gasped, resting his brow against Griffin's, too tired to raise his head. "I leave you for a couple of hours..." He chuckled hysterically, slumping an arm around his friend's neck.
It had been so close. Too close. A couple of seconds later and Toby would have been dealing with a Timed Out body in his arms.
He scrunched his eyes closed. No way was he thinking about that now.
"Jesus..." He panted, shock and fatigue sending him to silence, and the urge to wrap his strong arms around his friend and never let go gripped him. But something stopped him.
What if he doesn't want it?

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

Griffin saw the final second on his clock through eyes blurry with tears, and time seemed to come to a complete halt as he waited for that single glowing digit to disappear. He flet Toby's fingers closing about his wrist, and as his flooded eyes saw the time on the clock change, for one fraction of a second he could have sworn he felt his heart stop.
Too late...
He went limp with despair, expecting death, only to feel himself whip around as Toby's firm grip stopped his momentum. His eyes flashed open, spilling tears into the dirt, as he collapsed painfully into his friend's arms. He could feel life rushing into him, filling him with an overpowering sense of relief.
I made it... We made it!
Toby was saying something, but Griffin was deaf to everything but the ticking sound of time - glorious time - rushing into his starved clock. His heart had never raced so fast, and never had he been so wonderfully aware of his own existence, his own wonderful life. Each breath, each throb of pain, was suddenly more real - and more welcome - than it had ever been before.
"I-I'm alive..." He stammered, his mouth to dry to lend volume to his words. He choked in the silence. "I'm alive..."[/i]
He looked at his wrist, at the minutes flowing into hours, and hours into days. It seemed like so much. A second ago, he'd been living his final breath.

It all hit him so suddenly that Griffin couldn't even remember when it had happened; all he knew was that the next moment he was collapsed in against Toby, his arms wrapped desperately about his friend, fingers clawing at his back. He shook like a drowned rat in the warm embrace, and with miles of nothingness to watch him, he crumbled right down to his core. Whimpering desperately with terror, he buried his streaming face in Toby's shoulder, his tears soaking the man's shirt in instants. Sobs shook every inch of his frail body, and when the movement brought agony to his injured shoulder he could only cry harder.
Once he started, there was just no stopping. For so long he had pretended to be strong, and at last all the pain was rushing out of him like poison.
"I nearly died." He choked, clutching Toby tighter, "I saw my last second. Toby, I-" He broke off, crying again, and burying himself more deeply than ever in the warm comfort of his friend's strong chest.
He sat there for many minutes, until finally he had cried the hysterics away, left with nothing but numb, shocked warmth. He hiccuped.
"You... Made it on time..." He whispered, a quiet shadow of a laugh slipping from his lips, "Thank you."
His eyes filled with tears again at the power of his gratitude. The words seemed so empty. He hugged Toby tighter, desperate to get closer to that strong, firm warmth that had become his one sure safety in life. He trusted Toby with all that he was. Never, in all his time, had he met somebody that he could believe in so firmly, with every fibre of his being.
His grip on Toby's shirt tightened, and he pressed his face into the man's shoulder, breathing in the comforting scent of him. He never wanted to let go. Never again. His love for Toby at that moment was all-consuming.

[Dreambug]

Despite all his doubts and uncomfortable hesitations, Toby was dragged close to Griffin by no choice of his own, and when he felt something warm dampen his shoulder he automatically enveloped his arms around his friend's trembling body. It was then the sobs started, and, for the first time, Griffin cried his heart out into Toby's shoulder, releasing all his terror and relief through every tear he shed. Toby didn't stop him.
In fact when he felt Griff's head lift - just slightly - to speak, Toby placed a hand on the back of his head and guided it back to his shoulder. Having been put through such a fright, not to mention the delay of the car almost capsizing and breaking his shoulder, there was no point trying to push it all away too soon. He would only break down easier the next time.
Toby could relate to that.
He wouldn't let himself be affected by what had just happened. Griffin needed him to be the strong one, to hold his friend like a mother to a baby when he needed him like this. So, despite his own breathlessness and shaking hands, he cradled Griffin in his arm and supported him when his body shook with sobs, right until the moment that he'd cried himself dry.
"You... Made it on time..." Griffin whispered weakly into his shirt. "Thank you."
"You sound surprised." Toby murmured in his ear, smiling slightly. "Don't I always?"

Griff squeezed him so hard he was beginning to struggle to breath, so he gently ran his hands down Griff's arms - carefully avoiding his swollen shoulder - and guided his hands away from Toby's bruised stomach.
But when Griff raised his head and the two met eyes, Toby noticed for the first time how heartbreaking it was to see the tears in his friend's eyes, the way the forest green flecks sparkled with complete shock of the trauma he'd gone through made something in Toby snap. He'd hugged Griff for a long time, but by the look on his face, it wasn't enough.
I want to take your tears away. He thought silently, clenching his jaw. He was crossing forbidden territory here. The line he thought Griff would never let him cross. The line he swore he would never cross when he went into hiding.
I don't want to see you hurt anymore.
His eyes narrowed, like there was something inside him burning, causing such unbearable agony because of his feelings, like he couldn't quite get a grip on something. But despite the war he tried to fight within himself, he raised a hand to Griff's soft cheek and gently wiped a tear away with his thumb.
The wasteland was so untouched, so silent, that despite the wind Toby felt as if he could feel both their heartbeats like bullets to the sky. They were racing.
His hand didn't fall.
Griff's breathing was still shallow and uneven from his tears, but what was Toby's excuse? He wasn't even sure anymore.
Without warning to himself, he felt his face inch closer to Griff's. They weren't dangerously close, but he knew what he wanted, and he was desperate to be told it was wrong. But all he could think about was Griffin, and the sight of the tear streams on his face. He wanted to take that away.
Breathing heavier, he froze. His dull, blue eyes were staring at Griffin's lips, his own parted slightly. His heavy breathing wafted onto Griffin's mouth, but he couldn't pull himself away.
"Tell me to stop." he whispered, more like a plea than a challenge. There were so many things about this that were wrong, but despite this he wouldn't move away on his own. Instincts were taking over. "Tell me it's wrong. Tell me..." He trailed off, scrunching his brow as his thumb caressed the remaining tears from one of Griffin's swollen eyelids. It would take more than his self control to push him away from what he wanted to do.

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

A touch on his arm awakened him from his stupour, and as he felt Toby's hands guiding his arms gently away, Griffin slackened his grip obediently. He hadn't realized how tightly he had been holding his poor, bruised friend. An apology rose to his lips, but he was still shaking too hard to give it words. He looked up, and found Toby looking right back. His eyes were captivating. Lost in the gaze, still panting and trembling, Griffin felt a tear slide down his cheek, only to be stopped halfway by Toby's thumb. The man's hand cupped his cheek, warm and reassuring, and even after the stray tear was long gone, the touch remained. Griffin felt his heartbeat quicken. He didn't pull away.
There was something in Toby's eyes that hadn't been there before. A burning passion, a hunger... Toby inched closer, and Griff knew what was coming. He knew, and yet still, he did not resist. He had expected to feel repulsed, perhaps even scared, but he felt nothing of the sort. He saw Toby's lips parted, felt the warmth breath on his own, and his heart raced faster still.
"Tell me to stop." Toby pleaded, and Griff looked up, his wide green eyes searching Toby's. He didn't say a word. "Tell me it's wrong. Tell me..."
He closed his eyes, feeling a tingling warmth spreading through him. With the adrenaline still fresh in his veins, he was acutely aware of Toby's touch on his cheek, and the sweet breath wafting over his face. It called to him. Encouraged him. Egged him on... He couldn't pull away.
"I..." He looked up at Toby, eyes wide with disbelief, "I... can't."
Without even a speck of understanding for his own actions, Griffin slackened his tense shoulders and gave in to the pull, letting his lips find Toby's like magnets. Fire roared through his veins, and he felt his friend's hair running between his fingers without any memory of having lifted his hands. All his senses were vague and fuzzy, and his thoughts seemed stuck on a single broken track. All he knew was the feeling of Toby's lips against his; the wonderful, forbidden tragedy of it, and the terror that all he could feel, with a man's lips pressed to his, was a rush of affection so great it overpowered him completely.

[Dreambug]

At Griff's reply Toby swore he could feel some form of despair pulling a weight in the back of his throat, and for a long, painful moment he had the urge to cry. Then I won't be able to stop myself...
"Please..." He begged, clutching Griff's head desperately with a pair of sweaty palms. He didn't want to try anything unless Griffin really wanted him to, and he highly doubted it would end up that way. Griff had made that obvious the night before. If he tried anything it would be like asking to rip up their relationship inch by inch, and he would rather die than lose his one and only friend.
But the feeling of Griff's breath warming his lips was addictive, and it took all Toby's power not to let it drag him closer in fear of it going wrong.
But before he could understand what was going on, the soft breath turned into a pair of lips, locking onto his. With a gasp in surprise, he wrapped his arms around the small of Griff's back as if catching him from a fall, and their beating chests pressed up against each other.
But I didn't do this. He thought, flabbergasted. This isn't me. I stopped before-
When it finally occured to him what was happening, and that Griff had in fact chosen to move first, Toby managed to let himself relax into it, if only a little bit. He didn't think about what it meant. It just felt... Right.
A warm touch brushed his cheek. His heart fluttered at the contact, and before he knew what he was doing, Toby was returning the kiss. It was a gentle, reassuring kiss, somewhat clumsy perhaps. His eyes screwed tightly shut, like he was pushing the rest of the world out of his mind, and focusing on nothing but Griffin. In a way, he was afraid to pull away, afraid to open his eyes ad face the truth to what he was doing.
I'm going to Hell for this. He thought, feeling his throat clench at the rush of emotion that kept his heart fluttering like a caged animal. For pulling someone I care about into my life. For letting myself get so close, so attached to another person. For exposing them to my problems...
At this thought he pulled his lips away merely a few inches, and pressed his brow against Griffin's.
"Is..." He began, breathless, and swallowed the frog in his throat. "Is this real?" He asked weakly, his eyes flashing open and staring right into Griffin's warm, forest green eyes. He looked scared.
Scared that it wasn't the right thing.
Scared that it was.

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

With Toby's arms around his back, Griffin felt his spine curve obediently away from the pressure, bringing him closer to Toby, so the man's chest was barely a hair's breadth away. Numb to the pain, Griff raised his free hand to Toby's chest, but whether his intention was to push the man away or to pull him closer, he wasn't quite sure. His closed eyelids flickered, and in a heartbeat, Toby was returning his kiss in full force.
Colour rushed to his cheeks, hurried along by the sudden onslaught of emotions, and Griffin felt himself shrinking shyly away; though not once did his lips part from Toby's. He was lost; blinded by a passion that he barely even understood. He didn't see it as right or wrong, gay or straight... All he saw was a mad, cruel world delving into darkness, while his hands clasped desperately to the one last thing that still shone light into his life. He needed Toby. Of that one fact, he held not a flicker of doubt.
"Is..." The lips pressed to his broke away, and as the fuzzy warmth drained from his mind, Griffin felt crystal reality rushing back around him like a cold tide. "Is this real?"
His eyes opened, met by Toby's frightened blue gaze, shockingly close. Griffin searched his friend's familiar face, desperate to find what had changed. There was nothing. And yet suddenly, he saw Toby completely differently to the way he did before.
"I..." His lips trembled, wide doe-eyed mirroring the fear they saw in Toby's. His whisper was hoarse. "I... I don't know."
He was shivering frantically, disheveled as a kitten rescued from an icy pool.
"I don't..."
What just happened?
He stared at Toby like a deer in headlights, frozen in fear as the implications of his actions began to sink in.
"W-Why did I...?" He blinked, tearing his gaze away from his friend to stare at the empty wasteland around them. For miles, there wasn't a soul in sight. With nobody there to judge him, Griffin couldn't help but wonder just what he was so afraid of. It was the shock that did it. In the space of a second, everything had changed. Yet when he looked at Toby, deep down, he wondered if - just maybe - it had changed for the better?
Dropping his gaze, he watched as his hand slowly tightened to a fist, clenching a handful of Toby's shirt.
"Do you..." He licked his lips anxiously. He could still taste Toby's kiss, "Do you... Want this to be real?" His head lifted, and he looked up at Toby, eyes wide with innocence and wonder.
Man or woman... What did it matter? Toby was everything that he had ever longed for. For the first time in a long time, the emptiness inside him had been filled. He needed him. Wanted him...
I love him.

[Dreambug]

Griffin's eyes changed when they too realised how big this one little action had become, and in turn his body followed, trembling violently. The sight of him made Toby want to hug him again. He hated seeing Griffin suffer anything that wasn't happiness, even if he'd caused it.
When Griff's head bowed, Toby followed his gaze to the handful of shirt that was being yanked around his stomach area, then the fist that was holding it tightly, so tight that the knuckles had gone sheet white. It, too, was trembling.
"Do you..." Griff paused to run his tongue over his swollen lips. "Do you... Want this to be real?"
Toby swallowed. He wasn't really sure how to answer that.
I shouldn't...
He shrugged. "I guess..."
I should walk away right now.
"Maybe..."
[i]No!
He nodded, closing his eyes. Yes, he wanted it to be real. He wanted it despite the dangers, but he'd made that choice at the beginning to accept Griff as a friend. Their lives were intertwined already ad had been for a long time. It didn't matter anymore how close they were, just that they were and the consequences had already started coming.
But it's more than that. This feels... Feels like I'm falling. In love? Into neverending danger? Probably both.
His lips twitched, just slightly, into the ghost of a smile. He'd always been in neverending danger. For the last fourteen years, at least. The only difference now was that he had something to protect.
"Come on." He urged, shakily sitting upright, then took Griff's hand. It wasn't an utterly caring gesture. "Hold still." He ordered softly, then straightened out Griff's arm. "This'll hurt," he warned seriously. "But it'll be over quick. I promise." He winked, then started counting to three. He reached two, then pushed at Griff's swollen shoulder. Hard. With a sickening crack the bone was jolted back into position.
"Three." He finished, smiling slightly, then pulled himself to his feet and offered Griff a hand. The wasteland was flat, and although there wasn't a soul around, if anyone saw them they'd be able to for miles. It was too open. "Let me take you back to the lair." He urged softly. "I've got that credit machine, so I can give you your Time back. And I promise, just this once, I'll drive safe." He winked.

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

The nod was all Griffin needed. He blinked in acceptance, and in the silence, a promise was made. He would never leave Toby's side.
"Come on." The sound of his friend's shaky voice let in the cold draft of reality, and Griffin shivered, then winced when he noticed the pain in his shoulder at last. Toby took his hand, and Griff drew in a suspicious hiss of breath through his teeth when he felt his arm straightened. It hurt, but the pain was not intolerable. What frightened him more was the inescapable knowledge that worse was soon to come.
"Hold still. This'll hurt,"
"W-wait." Griff stammered quickly, eyes wide, "Don't-"
"But it'll be over quick. I promise." Toby winked at him, but despite the friendly gesture, Griffin remained unsmiling. He looked like he was expecting a beating. He just didn't want any more pain... But he supposed, in the end, he had no choice. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and nodded.
Toby counted to three.
On two, a sickening blast of pain stabbed through his shoulder, and Griffin yelped, pulling away and clutching his arm in agony. Within instants, he was shivering again. He felt sick.
Somewhere nearby he heard the sound of movement, and when he looked up - the pain haze slowly clearing - he saw Toby standing before him, holding out a hand. Timidly, Griff extended his good arm, and allowed his friend to pull him to his feet. It seemed an awful long way up.
"Let me take you back to the lair." Toby urged, his voice gentle and reassuring, even in Griffin's shocked state, "I've got that credit machine, so I can give you your Time back. And I promise, just this once, I'll drive safe."
At this, he finally allowed a small smile to curve his pale lips, but he did not respond right away. He stood there, looking hesitantly back at his Mazda, smoking a few hundred meters away. He would need to get it home, and fix it. He wasn't sure yet in what order. In any case, the car could wait. His hands were shaking too much to be of any use near a toolbox anyway.
"Okay." He said at last, turning to Toby with a weak smile, "But I won't take your Time, Superman. It's payday tomorrow. You've given me enough to last until then. I wouldn't ask any more of you." He rubbed the chill from his arms, and tottered unsteadily to Toby's side. His whole body hurt; from the bullets, the jump, and the mad sprint across the dirt. Body and mind, he was in tatters.
"I hope you have Tequila in that lair of yours." He chuckled weakly, "It'll take a lot more than Appletinis to forget a scare like that."

[Dreambug]

Toby looped a hand protectively around Griff's waist to keep him standing, shooting him a look of concern. His shoulder would hurt for a few days, but after a week he'd be able to move it fine without too much pain. He'd be stiff for a bit, though. Still, he wasn't supposed to look so ill.
"Griff-"
"Okay. But I won't take your Time, Superman. It's payday tomorrow. You've given me enough to last until then. I wouldn't ask any more of you."
Toby rolled his eyes. He had one million years back at the lair. What was losing some twenty five? He certainly wouldn't miss it, and he'd feel bad if Griffin wasn't completely paid back for the trauma he'd had to suffer in, what, a few minutes?
He held back the anger simmering inside him. It was reasons like this that the poverty in Dayton had to be sorted out. No one should have to go through that. Not his mother, and certainly not Griffin.
"I hope you have Tequila in that lair of yours." His friend mumbled, still with some difficulty standing. "It'll take a lot more than Appletinis to forget a scare like that."
"I don't have Tequila." Toby told him regretfully, slowing his pace so Griff could keep up with him. "But I've got a fat, comfy sofa."
He turned his head slightly and raised an eyebrow, smiling playfully at his friend. He wasn't sure what had loosened his spirits so easily after a scare like that. Maybe the fact that he no longer had to feel ashamed of being gay, that his friend actually wanted the same thing. At least in the lair he could pretend the rest of the world didn't exist.
"I've also got plenty of Coca Cola." He added as somewhat of an afterthought, swiping his shades off the ground and dusting them off with a flick of his hand. Then, shrugging, he slid them on and guided Griffin back to his motorbike.
"Give me a shout if anything starts hurting too much." He informed him, mounting the front of the bike, then jerking his head in a gesture for Griffin to do the same. "I've got painkillers at the lair, and a kettle. But that's broken, so..." He winked, his eyes sparkling in a secret challenge. He knew Griffin liked to fix things, so if he felt up for it it'd give him something to do.

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

"A barman doesn't have Tequila." Griff snorted in amusement, shaking his head. "Now I've seen it all." He caught the playful smile that Toby shot him, and rolled his eyes, his usual smile gradually returning to his lips. He didn't know what Toby was looking so happy about, but he was glad anyway.
"I've also got plenty of Coca Cola." Toby offered, picking up a pair of sunglasses from the ground. Griff hadn't noticed them until that moment, but he made a mental note to steal them later. The idea of Toby in sunglasses did not appeal to him in the slightest.
"I don't like Coke." He pointed out, approaching the bike and casting it a distrustful glare, "It's too sweet. It's like syrup and medicine had a kid."
Toby mounted the bike, looking ridiculous in his shades, and at his gesture, Griffin mounted obediently behind him, sliding his good arm gently around his friend's waist. His sore one hung limply at his side. He could still feel the ligaments twitching horribly where they'd stretched.
"Give me a shout if anything starts hurting too much." His friend told him kindly, "I've got painkillers at the lair, and a kettle. But that's broken, so..."
"Hmph." Griff snorted, unimpressed, "If I see one snippet of reckless driving from you, Mister, your head's gonna be broken." His eyes narrowed dangerously, "The kettle, I'll fix."
Taking the sting from his words, he gave Toby a teasing prod in the back.
"Go on, then." He shifted his arm more firmly around his friend's waist, "But seriously, drive carefully. I'm still a little shaky, so I don't know how well I'll balance." Sighing heavily, he offered a strained smile. No matter what he said, he trusted Toby. He knew that his friend would do everything in his power to protect him, no questions asked. It was himself he didn't trust. The world was spinning so fast around him that, even sitting still, he feared he'd slide right off the bike the moment he lifted his feet up.

[Dreambug]

Toby smiled secretly to himself at the snort of disapproval behind him. "If I see one snippet of reckless driving from you, Mister, your head's gonna be broken."
His smile grew. Honestly, at a scolding like that, telling him not to do something when he wanted to do it, he looked like a naughty school boy who'd just apologised for a crime he certainly wasn't sorry for. His lips remained obediently closed.
"But seriously, drive carefully. I'm still a little shaky, so I don't know how well I'll balance."
"I will." He promised finally, still smiling at the petty scolding he'd just received. "It's just a few minutes following the train track. I'll go steady for you."
With that he revved up the engine, flicked off the bike rest and gently set off in first gear.

True to his word, it took them at least ten minutes to get back to the lair due to his 'safe' driving, and he parked the bike safely outside the steel door of the lair. Once he'd turned off the engine he dismounted, then waited for Griffin to do the same. Unlocking the steel door he rolled the bike into the darkness, and guided Griffin into the lift.
Once they'd reached the lair Toby headed straight for his now fixed CD player and put on some slow jazz. He paused to appreciate the soft, soulful beat before wandering across the room to a set of drawers. He pulled a first aid kit out of one and tossed it in Griff's direction. "There'll be some paracetamol and ibuprofin in there somewhere." He said, then pulled out a pair of small beer bottles from a broken mini fridge. It didn't need to work, since the place was cold enough to act as a fridge in itself sometimes anyway.
He then wandered over and sat down beside Griff, handing him a beer bottle, and smirked. "You asked for Tequila. I don't have tequila." He repeated cheekily, like he needed to explain himself.

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

They crawled to the lair at a snail's pace, but when they arrived, Griffin was still in one piece, and he was grateful. Toby killed the bike engine, and Griff swung his leg over the side, stumbling slightly as he found his balance on still-shaky knees. He thanks Toby quietly, then stuck close to his friend's side as they proceeded to the lift, and down into the lair below. The light was still on, which was just was well. Griffin didn't much feel like facing the darkness just yet.
Casting his gaze over the now familiar layout of the lair, he headed over to the couch in the corner, while Toby started up some jazz on the CD player near the wall. Griffin twitched in annoyance. He couldn't stand jazz.
"There'll be some paracetamol and ibuprofin in there somewhere."
"Hm?" He looked up, and started when he saw Toby tossing a first aid kit in his direction. He made a wild grab for it, and ended up twinging his sore shoulder in the process. Wincing, he dropped the little box onto his lap, and opened the lid. Sure enough, there were some pain tablets, bound in foil. Scratching it away with his fingernail, Griff prized one from its plastic tray, then popped it into his mouth and swallowed it dry.
"Ugh!" He coughed, wrinkling his nose in disgust, "That tastes horrible."
He felt the couch dip in beside him, and looked over to find Toby sitting down, holding out a beer bottle. Griffin snatched it away desperately, clawing off the cap and quickly drinking down three great gulps. The bottle was already halfway finished.
Breathing a heavy sigh of relief, he looked at Toby and smiled.
"You asked for Tequila." His friend explained cheekily, "I don't have tequila."
"Just as well." He chuckled, taking another sip of beer, "Drinking beer while popping the pain pills is bad enough. The last thing we need is for me to get high." He laughed at the idea. That would certainly be a disaster.
Lifting the beer bottle to his lips, Griff folded his hands around it, and allowed himself a subtle smile. He was calmer now. The fright was beginning to wear off, and he was gradually starting to feel like himself again. There was just one thing that refused to change. Whenever he looked at Toby, all he could think about was that kiss. That passionate kiss, both wonderful and terrible all at once, in the heat of that moment between life and death. It was remarkable to think that when something so drastic had happened, Toby could still look so... Normal. He was the same man he had always been, but somehow his presence just seemed bigger than before. Or rather, Griffin was more aware of it. Every word, every action affected him differently, and as more time passed, he found himself growing shier and more uncertain by the minute. Part of him - perhaps the lonely, frightened part - still longed for his friend's embrace, but he was either too proud or too timid to take initiative. He just didn't know where he stood any more. Everything was confusing... Undefined...

[Dreambug]

"Just as well." Griffin agreed. "Drinking beer while popping the pain pills is bad enough. The last thing we need is for me to get high."
Toby just chuckled at this. He remembered exactly how badly his friend held the liqueur, especially when he'd tried to hold down the appletinies and goodness knows what else the night before. That had certainly ended in disaster.
Smiling fondly at the memory, Toby sipped away at his beer, not at all bothered that it was early afternoon. Unlike a certain someone he was very good at holding down his alcohol, although it usually sent him into a depressed state, sometimes violent. But that was when he was on his own, and since he'd not got drunk since hanging around with Griffin, he wasn't sure how he'd react. Stupid was one guess. ((Ps, he can't remember getting drunk the last time they were there. He's a douche like that. ))
He noticed a pair of eyes watching him from the side, and sipped his beer with a roll of his eyes. Griffin was looking at him like he was some waxwork model in the National History Museum. Eventually he gave up ignoring it, and turned to his friend with a raised eyebrow.
"Alright." He said finally, shifting in his seat so he was leaning against the chair arm, and raised a leg onto the sofa cushion so he was in somewhat of a lying down position. "Go on, Gryfindor. What're you thinking about?"
But it was a silly question, really. He knew what Griff was thinking about, he just didn't want to mention it outloud in fear of sounding too bold.
The kiss...
Toby had already admitted he wanted it to be real, to mean something, but he feared bringing it up too soon would make Griffin nervous, and that wouldn't do either of them any good.

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

"Alright." Griffin jumped when Toby's voice bit through his thoughts, head jerked up to look at the man as he shifted into a more comfortable position on the couch, "Go on, Gryfindor. What're you thinking about?"
"I-" He opened his mouth to respond, then glanced away, averting his gaze and rubbing his shoulder shyly. He wasn't sure why Toby hadn't guessed already. In his opinion, it was pretty obvious just what, exactly, was on his mind. Then again, maybe it wasn't as big a deal to Toby as it was to him. The thought was disheartening.
He swallowed anxiously, then fixed a cheerful expression on his face as he looked back at his friend. "Nothing at all." He lied easily, tossing his shoulders into a shrug, "Certainly not how I'm going to beat you at Chess... Again." Shooting Toby a devious little smirk, he hopped to his feet - looking as sprightly as his injured state could manage - and trotted off to collect the Chess set from the cupboard.
"Remember last time we played this?" He asked with a laugh, obviously keen to drag the topic of conversation as far from his thoughts as possible, "Man, you were drunk off your face. It was hilarious."
Smirking, he set the Chess set down on a small table beside the couch, and began setting up the pieces.
"You can be white. I think you'll need one turn's head start."
He swiveled the board around, bringing the black pieces within reach.
"Go on, then." He nodded toward the game. What had happened out in the wasteland was clearly not up for discussion, and it was not surprising, really. Griffin never spoke of his own worries. He bottled them up, and let them fester. The only problem was, it was difficult to hide from someone something that they themselves had taken part in. He could deny that kiss as long as he liked. Both he and Toby would always know it had happened. At some point, he would have to find the courage to face it. After all, whether he was willing to admit it or not, that kiss had left him the happiest he'd felt in years. But perhaps happy was not the word... It had left him... Fulfilled. Free from the loneliness that had ruled his life almost as far back as he could remember.

[Dreambug]

Toby wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but when the features in Griffin changed and he plastered on an overly bright expression, Toby knew for sure that it was false. Honestly, he knew Griff had been thinking about the kiss, but he wanted to see if Griffin would admit it himself. Perhaps give his honest opinion on it. Toby had told him he wanted the kiss to be real, but Griff had said he didn't know. Did that mean he was worried about it?
When the subject of Chess was brought up, Toby knew he wasn't going to get his answer. And he certainly couldn't remember playing Chess with Griffin in the lair. He'd played with him so many times before... Perhaps he'd lost count.
Then again, he could remember playing 'Danger In The Dark', and what came with that...
Blinking away his thoughts, he sat up on the sofa and watched with a deep, concerned frown as Griff jumped around and prepared the Chess board for him. There was definitely something up, but Toby had a feeling he wouldn't be able to squeeze it out of his friend so easily.
"Go on, then." He urged finally. Still frowning, Toby glanced at the Chess set, then back up at Griffin. No, there was no point bringing it up if Griff didn't want to talk about it.
"Now you're just being mean." He teased, his face breaking into a grin. "You know I'm going to lose." He leant over to the chess board and moved one of his pawns forward.
"Bruise my ego a little more, why don't you?" He chuckled, then pulled up his legs on the sofa so he was sat cross-legged, staring thoughtfully down at the chessboard. His mind wouldn't be in the game today - not that it would make much difference, other than the fact that he'd lose quicker - but he'd play along for now. Griffin was obviously bothere by what had happened, and Toby also needed some time to get his head around it.
"Your turn." He egged on, leaning his chin on his fist like a thoughtful little boy. "Bite me, Gryfindor."

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

For one tense moment, Toby frowned, and Griffin knew in an instant that his friend had seen right through his act. He stiffened, waiting for the interrogation to start; but then, to his relief, Toby's features relaxed into a smile, and he started the game, continuing with his usual gentle teasing. Griffin smiled, eyes sparkling in unspoken gratitude, and picked up his knight, preparing to move it forward.
"Of course you're going to lose." He smirked at his friend, placing the knight down on the board, "As for your ego, I can't believe you've still got one of those. If it were me, I think I would've been picking up pieces of my shattered pride in the dirt by now."
He looked up, beaming innocently.
"Bite me, Gryfindor."
"No thanks. I'm trying to cut back." He patted his belly, and flashed Toby a wink, then gestured to the board.
"Go on, then. You've got to at least pretend to try to beat me."

[Dreambug]

"You saying I'm made of fat?" Toby challenged, then patted his imaginary 'beer belly'. "This is all nutritional stuff, right here."
He frowned at the chess board, like there was something yet worth thinking about, and moved another pawn hesitantly. He could already sense that he was going to lose the game, but so early on he had the chance to think through and make a plan.
"I'm not going to pretend anything, Mister. But if you beat me again, I'll..." He paused for thought, then smirked deviously. "I'll work out with my shirt off. So there."
Wow. Wasn't that a punch in the face.
Then again, he knew how much Griff hated him walking round with his chest out, so maybe this one time his friend would let him win one game. Even if it was pretend, he'd rather that than lose again.

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

"Sure it is." Griffin smirked, shaking his head at Toby's joking. He watched as his friend studied the chess board. He looked somewhat distracted, but Griff couldn't blame him. They both were. And it was no mystery as to why.
"I'm not going to pretend anything, Mister." Griff raised an eyebrow, "But if you beat me again, I'll... I'll work out with my shirt off. So there."
"Oh, is that so?" He questioned mildly, making his next move without even a moment's hesitance. Moving his knight, he took Toby's paw, and placed it neatly beside the board. "I've got bad news for you on that one, Superman." He held up the pawn, rolling it victoriously between his fingers, "Making me look like a loser doesn't make you any more of a winner." He smirked, then put the pawn down again. Poor Toby really didn't stand a chance against him. It was a wonder he still played. In fact, if it weren't for Toby's threat - which really was less of a threat and more of a bribe, in his opinion - he might even have considered letting his friend win, if only to keep his hopes up.
He looked up, letting his gaze dart around the lair. As much as he pretended to be okay, he was still shaken by what had happened before. Aside from coming damn close to losing his life, there was the incident with Toby, too... Deep down, he was a wreck, trying to decipher what that had meant. Frankly, it had thrown him for a loop. The game was just a means of distracting himself while he struggled to work through all the issues building up in his mind.

[Dreambug]

Toby swore when his pawn was swiped off the chessboard.
"I've got bad news for you on that one, Superman. Making me look like a loser doesn't make you any more of a winner."
"Technically it does." Toby replied, bringing forward one of his knights furiously. "Because I become a winner in another game, don't I?" He teased, reaching under his shirt to scratch his stomach. His shirt lifted just slightly, revealing a tiny strip of flesh above his navel, and his hand paused where it was for a moment. Toby's eyes were locked on Griffin, waiting for the look of disgust to appear. He wasn't ashamed.
In fact, Griffin looked like he needed something to get his mind off everything. The poor guy... In fact, if there was anything that would take him back to their relationship before that kiss he'd do it.
He raised an eyebrow playfully, then dropped his hand back to his lap, staring longingly at his stolen pawn. Griffin would pay for that.
"If I were you I'd let me win." He urged cheekily, leaning back on the sofa. "Just putting that out there. You wouldn't want to have to watch me work out for another hour, would you?"

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

"You just keep telling yourself that, Superman..." Griff mumbled, shaking his head in amusement. A small smirk lifted his lips, and his eyes flickered over the line of skin bared below Toby's shirt. He looked pointedly away. Seeing Toby shirtless had never really bothered him before - aside from making him feel jealous and inferior - but since that kiss, it was downright awkward. He felt uncomfortable just seeing one inch of bare skin. Was he supposed to look, or avert his gaze? Was he supposed to be delighted or repulsed?
He didn't have a clue. He knew neither where he stood, nor what he felt. All he knew was what he wanted... And he wanted Toby. Whether it was as his friend or his boyfriend, he really didn't care much any more. As long as he had those strong arms around him and that comforting voice in his ear, that was all he needed. If only he had the strength to say as much...
"If I were you I'd let me win." Toby teased, leaning back on the sofa like a lord, "Just putting that out there. You wouldn't want to have to watch me work out for another hour, would you?"
Griffin considered this, and felt a heavy sigh trickle from his lips. If it would spare him the awkwardness of being audience to Toby's workout, then he would forfeit his win. He did wish that his friend would show a little more sensitivity. Perhaps he had come to terms with being gay, but Griffin had barely even considered it. And yet he had kissed his friend... He was still struggling to deal with the implications of that, and yet Toby seemed to have overlooked it completely. It was what he wanted - to act as if nothing had happened - but as always, when he got what he wanted, he realized that he had wanted something completely different all along.
Staring down at the Chess board, he found himself wishing absently that Toby had forced him to talk. Perhaps then their relationship might have had some definition at that point.
Frowning, he pushed his knight to a square diagonally opposite one of Toby's pawns. If losing was what it would take to keep the peace, then he would lose. If it kept Toby by his side, then it would be worth it.

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