FicWad

"Um...We should...we should get erm...out now." Bert stuttered, flailing and arm in the warm bathwater. Quinn being so forward was great and all in theory, but when faced with the reality Bert wasn't so sure about it. It was sweet that Quinn seemed to care so much, but the thing is Bert wasn't sure if he even wanted to go that far with him yet. He was still kind of reeling from the revelation that Quinn was a ...god/demi-god, whatever; Bert had gotten mildly confused and there were thoughts of Ktesios and mustard and bathing Quinns and forest cabins dancing around in his head and distracting him horribly. "Quinn? Quinn!" Bert snapped, grabbing the back of the blonde head. "What?" Quinn asked, looking surprised.

"Don't 'what' me, I told you to stop!" Bert snapped. "I just need to think about
this for a second okay? You're right, I don't meet many 'demi-gods' or 'gods' or whatever when going about my daily business. So, just back off for a second and let me think. Ok?" He said.
Quinn looked contrite. "Sorry. I'm just...I...I-I..." Quinn trailed off, and a second later his trained gentlemanly manners emerged. "I'm very sorry Bert. I know this must be strange for you, and I didn't mean to push you. I think I will retire now." Quinn apologised formally, and rose to dry and dress himself. Bert cringed majorly from the weirdness of the situation and let Quinn get dressed and leave the bathroom without interrupting him.
After about twenty minutes of deep thought and a disastrous attempt at getting out of the bath without slipping; Bert dressed and slowly entered the bedroom.

Quinn was sitting beside the bed with his legs crossed and folded; an ankle on each knee. It looked mildly uncomfortable. His eyes were closed peacefully and he seemed to be meditating. Bert watched him for a minute. He looked so still and serene. It would have been impossible to know by looking that his parents had been murdered and he craved to avenge them by slaughtering his own brother. Bert sighed. All he wanted right now was to burrow in his bed and pretend this had never happened, wait for his parents to return from their work weekend and relish the scolding he would get for whatever because he would delight in the pure normality of it. He took a deep breath and worried at the skin on his wrist with his nails. He was the complete opposite of Quinn's calm, serene stillness. Bert stumbled over to the bed and slid down to the floor beside Quinn. "What are you doing?" Bert ventured after a few minutes of Quinn not opening his eyes. When he spoke, Quinn's calm eyes opened and gazed at Bert. "I was waiting for you," he explained. Bert raised an eyebrow at him. "Why?"
"It's impolite to take your leave in sleep before your host." Quinn said in a cool formal tone.

Frustrated at his distance, Bert stood up. "Er...Look, will you just stop?"

Quinn eyed him with aloof coolness. "I'm sorry?"

"Just, stop, go back to whatever and stop being so polite to me!" Bert said desperately, " I don't like it, I want you to go back the pouncing-on-me-when-I'm-not-looking and molesting me in the bath tub you crowded me into and stealing my remote control when I'm not looking and poking my mustard-"

"Is that a euphemism?"

Bert half smiled in relief. "Noooo, but-" he paused to mentally interrupt himself, "Mustard would be a pretty fucked-up word for it."
"Indeed it would. Are you going to get into bed now or just leave me sitting on your not-too-warm floor?" Quinn questioned, scratching at his knee in a remarkably ungodly way.
"Hey, you ungrateful SOB I bet the forest is a hell of a lot colder." Bert bantered, as he crawled into his bed, thanking whatever god there was that he had the presence of mind to make it this morning. For one brief instant he was overcome with the idea that if he hadn't taken a walk today, he probably never would have met Quinn. Bert was kind of alarmed at how upset that realization made him. "What did you call me?" Quinn questioned.

"SOB?" Bert asked in surprise as he snuggled himself into the sleepy warmth of his soft bed.

"Yes." Quinn acknowledged, as he too curled into the bed. "Whatever is an 'SOB'?"
"Er, son of a bitch? You didn't know?" Bert questioned in wonder.
Quinn shook his head in response.
The corners of Bert lips curled up in a grin without his permission. Quinn arched an eyebrow at him in curiosity. Bert shook his head, and secretly loved their silent conversation.

Quinn gave him his Tell-Me-Now glower, Level Four. It was just one step down from his all-out I-DEMAND-ATTENTION glare. Bert looked sufficiently terrified. "I was just thinking...I kind of love how innocent you are. You don't know anything about the fakery and the phony nature of humans and I love that so much. You're not like..." Bert's brain finally caught up to to his mouth and he clamped it shut in horror. He mentally cursed himself into oblivion. He just knew Quinn was gonna think he was so pathetic. Oh, Christ, he couldn't just stop there, what if Quinn would think he had meant something even more suggestive. He had to finish it. "-Anyone else I've ever met."

Oh, great. Grreeeeaaaaat....That was completely suave. Smooth, Bert, really debonair. He couldn't restrain himself from slamming his palm into his forehead, very glad that it was so dark.
"You know I can see you, right?"
Bert paused in his face palming and cracked one eye open. "Fugg."
He swore violently. Damn supernatural beings. Never knew what you were gonna get with them. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry..."
"For what?" Quinn wondered. Bert felt Quinn's hand reach out and massage the muscles in the back of Bert's neck. It was immensely and strangely comforting
"Nothing...just. Just go to sleep we'll talk in the morning. Okay?" Bert checked, allowing his hand to move up to his neck to twine it to Quinn's.
"Okay." Quinn said softly. "Promise?" he asked and Bert felt a surge of an unidentified emotion curl warmly in his stomach at the small vulnerability. "I promise." Bert swore, smoothing his fingers over Quinn's thumb. They curled deeper into the bed and soon fall into unconsciousness.




Three hours later and the door slammed onto the floor. Quinn bolted from the bed. Loud crashing noises echoed through the house. Bert gasped and sat up, gawping in shock at the broken door.
"Toldya it wasn't locked, boys." A gruff voice said.
"I told him that but he never listens to me Bobby!" Another male voice said in a complaining voice.
"Hey, shut up Sammy, I've got this! And why would I listen to you? All you do is nag me!" yet another male voice argued. "I'm sick of-Woah."He got distracted by a poster of Evanescence and immediately began ogling Amy Lee. "She's hot right? For a Goth chick an' all."

The taller one just looked at him disdainfully and the shorter, older one rolled his eyes at both of them. "Sam! Dean! Like children, the two o' ya, bickering or like an old married couple." He had a beard and was dressed sort of like a red neck. "I swear-t-God Bobby you don't stop calling us a married couple I'ma kick some ass." The middle height one warned, pointing a finger at the short one.

'Bobby' shook his head and scolded Sam and Dean. "Don't we have a monster to hunt, ya eejit?"

Quinn stood up bravely, and Bert's jaw dropped in shock. "Oh, there he is." Dean said brightly. "That was easy."
The one called Sam sighed in a long-suffering way. "Dean, will you just do it? You're scaring hi-Oh, crap there's two. Um, hi." He offered to Bert, who was clutching his bed sheets in his fist. His mouth was still open in astonished disbelief.

Bert didn't know to be scared yet. He would regret his inaction later. All of a sudden, the tall one had grabbed Bert around his arms and wrestled him away from the bed. Dean had hauled a struggling Quinn to his feet. He was pressing some metallic object to his chest. The fighting bodies shifted and Bert saw. It was a cross. It had no effect against Quinn's skin. Bobby was reading from a bible and all it was doing was confusing Quinn.

"Get off me! Leave him alone! Get out!" Bert screamed, wrenching one arm free of

Sam's grasp. He made a run for Quinn but Sam held him back. "It's ok, we'll get rid of him, you're gonna be just fine." Sam soothed and Bert gaped at him. "You stupid son of a bitch, I am fine! Leave him alone!" Bert bellowed.
Suddenly, shockingly, the room was filled with a burning red light. Its blazing brightness burned Bert's eyes and he clamped them shut in defence. Bert could see the shadows of the bodies fighting against his dry lids. The light flamed brightest around Quinn. It seemed to be emanating from his chest. Bert was deaf, the dense silence weighing heavy on his eardrums. The felt like they'd crack. He could smell sulphur in the air. Abruptly, it all ended. Just...stopped. Bert opened his eyes, terrified. The three intruders were gone. So was Quinn.

The room still smelled of sulphur.





Once upon a time there was a beautiful young god named Quinn. He had long blonde hair and thick feathered wings. He had his own history but now is not the time to delve into that. One day, when hunting for food in the forest he happened upon a young man in mortal peril.
A young man who was ordinary to all appearances. He was short and had long black hair. He had no wings. He had his own history too, but it was too far behind him and too buried to rip it up again. One day when walking in the forest near his lonely home, he endangered his life by daydreaming while walking a cliff. Some people would fear it a subconscious suicide attempt. Bert feared it as evidence of the stupidity of youth. He had none of that stupidity now and less of the youth. He just happened to be drawn irrevocably to a young winged god.

That night while sleeping, the two were attacked in their bed by demon hunters, mistaken in their purpose. Bert was captured in arms by a tall man they called Sam. Quinn was attacked and injured. He was in terrible danger. But gods do not like being captured. Even fallen ones. Quinn's anger became tangible and it filled the room with its red, ferocious power. The magical anger reacted with the holy objects in the room and Quinn's desperate thoughts (getthemawayfromBertawaythey'llhurthimwannagohomeIwannagohomeleave) where they were realized. The innocent magic in Quinn's body brought the hunters to a town in South America and departed Quinn in the deep woods surrounding Oropus.
A year later and Quinn had befriended the elfin guard to the door. The elf, Charlotte trusted Quinn and one night she allowed him into the secret chambers of his half brother Ktesios. Quinn held his own and struck Ktesios with a crooked sword. His head ripped off his neck from the blunt blade and the magical empires in Olympus recognised Quinn as the successor of Ktesios. He was finally hailed as the god he was. Disregarding his power, Quinn handed the land to the hands of his only good half-sisters and resumed his long mission to find the young boy who had once offered him shelter.

But that same young boy was now a man and was nowhere to be found. Quinn searched the world, fruitlessly and he sank into an inexplicable depression. Quinn thought he had searched the globe in every possible place Bert could be. He never thought to explore the reclaimed forest near Oropus that he called his home.


After that defining night where his home had been invaded, Bert's feet took him to all of the places Quinn had mentioned in their too-short time together. He hunted down the hunters who had destroyed his young hope but they had no idea where to find the man they had tormented. He visited Ireland to follow the whispers of magical creatures to find the home of Cúchulainn. Quinn was nowhere to be found. Finally, he examined the empire Quinn had relegated to his half sisters. He befriended the guard named Charlotte and after many days and nights of thought and searches, Bert came across the manor in the woods. Quinn's manor escalated into the trees themselves and the walls radiated with a good, powerful magic. Bert fell to his knees in shock and happiness and he glimpsed red and black wings round a tree.

The supernatural fences around his manor were alarmed and Quinn took his sword down to the entrance hall to defend his home against intruders. In the open, white room Quinn's sword dropped to the dirt floor with a muffled clang. The man looked up in wonder as a darker male entered his manor. "Bert?"
"Quinn." The relief in the coarse voice was deliriously appealing to Quinn.

Once upon a time, there was an angel and his lover who lived in their home among trees.