Malachy Ronan Flynn (myeyesarehollow) wrote in darker_london,
Malachy Ronan Flynn

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The Greatest Love (Flynn, Quinn) Warning: Language!

Yesterday, Flynn had lost his mind and he had beaten up a 300-year-old angel who could easily have smeared his sad little body across the floor had he wanted to. Flynn had gotten in a quick attack, yes, but if Rolf had had it in mind to retaliate, the price would have been very high indeed. Flynn was lucky and he knew it. He was now far too aware that he was possibly slightly insane, no matter how many times Quinn assured him he was the opposite.

And Tasha was missing. Flynn and Quinn were out looking, though they didn't exactly know where to start. Tasha was a cop and she worked a lot of the time. When she wasn't working, she spent time with her family and Hope. Those places were easy enough to check. And she wasn't there. She had disappeared in front of Peter and Aly's eyes. Where in the world could you start? Searching was mostly an attempt to keep busy. To feel helpful. To feel anything but useless.

They were walking through Regents Park with absolutely desperate hope that Tasha would randomly be there for no reason either of them was aware of.

Quinn slid his fingers into Flynn's hand and he smiled at his lover. "Mal, you're quiet. -er than normal," he added, because Flynn had never been a chatterbox. "What are you thinking about?"

"Whether or not you're going to go over my head and sign me up for anger management classes," Flynn answered, matter-of-factly.

Quinn gave him a strange look. "I...hadn't thought about it. I don't think punching Rolf in the head automatically equals a need for anger management..."

"I punched him in the head a lot." Flynn moved to the side to allow a cyclist to whizz past him. "Like...a lot a lot."

"Not...needing the elaboration, Babe." Quinn gave Flynn's hand a squeeze though, just so he knew he wasn't mad.

"I acted like old me. It happened in about thirty seconds. It took me by surprise. I so rarely feel angry. When it doesn't involve Amaris..." He had worked long and hard at cutting anger out of his life. Having it reappear was like having the rug yanked out from under him.

"Well what happened involves Jillian, and being angry when either of them are involved is understandable." Quinn signed and he froze there on there on the path, giving it a sort of desperate look. "My feet hurt." Quinn was in good shape despite the fact that he was a smoker which sometimes made him short of breath when he ran, but they had been at it for hours. His feet did hurt. "I wish I could fly."

Flynn looked up at the tree beside the path and he pointed to it. "I could climb and look. Shimmy up it. Have a gander." He was pretty sure she wasn't here anyway. And that would cut out some time.

"I'm pretty sure that's illegal, Bub..." Quinn looked around again, this time he appeared slightly shifty.

"I'm looking for a cop. Fuck, if my arsehole brother could see me now." The PIRA did not enjoy English cops, and they would probably revel in the fact that Tasha was missing.

Flynn took a running leap and he managed to grab on to a lower hanging branch. He used that to swing his body up, and Quinn just stared at him in awe. Quinn was a fond climber of trees, but the branches he used to swing himself up had to be lower and more accessible than that...

"That is so not fair. I only have one eye and I don't have monkey DNA." He had just been in a car accident and he was still sore. Another reason why he wanted to have gone home three hours ago.

Flynn chuckled from above, and he continued upwards at a startling pace. "Don't you talk about my momma that way." Though Flynn didn't actually care about his mother, not even a little. He crested the tree, and looked around. All he saw was more parkland, which was all he had expected to see. No Tasha. Nothing out of the ordinary. Well, there was a dog who appeared to be eating either illegal park feces or something else decidedly brown and lumpy. Dogs were strange. But they hadn't come here to report on the activities of wayward canines.

Flynn dropped to the ground beside Quinn, and even that he made look graceful and easy. "Nothing."

"Shit." Quinn reached for a cigarette and he turned to Flynn. He put the cigarette away again. He couldn't be bothered. "I wouldn't say nothing. Watching you jump up there turned me on."

Flynn smiled and he took Quinn's hand, giving it a squeeze. "Good to know. Do you think we should try her beat again?"

"Listen to you with the Cop Fu!?" Quinn squeezed Flynn's hand back and he nodded. "But sure, Monkey Man. Sounds good."

"Oh no. If you break out the Amy Winehouse, we're breaking up." Flynn smiled when Quinn laughed and they continued to walk out of the park towards the Great Portland Street underground station. "Hey. Are you really too tired to keep going? I can take you home-"

"Would you stay with me?" Quinn asked, so quickly Flynn's head almost spun. "If you took me home, would you stay or go back out?"

"I'd probably go back out. help, or..." Flynn turned to look at his lover. "Or I could stay?"

"No, we can keep going. I want to be with you." Quinn kissed him and then he pulled Flynn out of the park and across the street. A random passer-by said, 'Good on you!' and he gave them the thumbs up.

"That guy likes the man on man action..." Flynn said, giving the man a shy little wave. "It's nice to have a fan..." When Flynn said things like that, it was obvious that he was incredibly oblivious to the fact that he did have fans. Which Quinn adored about him. Since meeting him almost a decade ago now, Flynn had become the bassist in a popular prog band, and it hadn't really changed him at all.

"Sometimes I think we should act more queer," Quinn said randomly, as they made their way through the ticket barrier. "You know. So people don't wonder why two straight guys are kissing."

"Do people wonder that?" Flynn thought that was strange, and he didn't care what other people thought when he kissed Quinn. He knew Quinn didn't either, however, and this conversation was making light of something so that they didn't have to think about what they were really doing. In fact, all their conversations today had been for just that reason.

"A few people at Uni have asked me, actually. Obviously not the ones who have seen me wearing a skirt. One of the kids I TA for was so shocked he dropped his chips."

Flynn snorted, and as they reached the downwards escalator, he turned around to face Quinn. Standing one step below him, it was the perfect height to kiss Quinn's chest, so he did. They ignored the ads for the Waterhouse exhibit in Leicester Square, and the warnings regarding swine flu, and they continued to be wrapped up in their own little world. "Our kissing made someone lose their lunch. Sad."

Quinn laughed, and he leaned down to kiss Flynn's head quickly before they both stepped off of the escalator and on to the platform. "Not in the most dramatic way, but I suppose you could say that. Do you think we should listen to Cher or something?"

Flynn snorted deep in his throat. "Only if you want to watch me go into a Wolverine like rage..."

"How do you feel about Madonna?" Quinn asked as the train rushed into the station.

"I think she shouldn't wear those leotards."

"I meant her music, Flynn!" Quinn stepped onto the train along with Flynn and they both chuckled. "But I do agree. And I think that comment upped your gay quotient."

"No. That comment upped my 'has eyes' quotient."

"Well crap, I'm the one who needs that!" Quinn leaned against Flynn as they started moving, and he winked with his one good eye leaving him momentarily blind. "It's obviously because you are stealing all my eye quotients."

"Oh, obviously." Flynn smiled and he kissed Quinn's head. He noted that Quinn was leaning against him quite heavily. Quinn was probably feeling much more tired than he was admitting to. "Hey, bub. Maybe we should get lunch or something, hmm? Take a little break?" Flynn never would have thought of it if Quinn hadn't been there, but now that he had his stomach gave a pleased little jump in anticipation of food.

Quinn wrapped his arms around Flynn, and he settled his head on Flynn's chest, which made Flynn chuckle again. It sounded strange with the train noise in the background. Like a locomotive-powered heart. "I'll be okay if we keep goin-"

"Don't argue." Flynn slid his hands up and down Quinn's back. "I think it's lunch time. You're about to fall over." Quinn agreed with his silence and then Flynn raised his eyebrows. "Does a massive snuggle on a circle line train up my gay quotient?"

Quinn laughed and he raised his head, so his chin was resting on Flynn's chest. "I think it just might." He kissed Flynn's chin and smiled up at him. "You know what else could up your gay quotient..."

"I am not slippin' it to you on the tube!" Flynn said, incredulous. Behind them, someone giggled.

"That...wasn't what I had in mind!" Quinn hissed. "If we get off at the next stop, we can eat at my house. Naked. Before heading back out."

"A celebration of life."

"And gay sex."

"I don't think a quotient can get gayer than that," Flynn agreed, amused.

"Damn right. I love you, Mal."

Flynn kissed Quinn's head and he rested his own on top. "I love you too." Tasha was missing and Jillian was out there and Tristan had been caught up in it. Flynn had lost his cool. But he had this. He had Quinn. With Quinn, he could get through anything.
Tags: flynn/quinn, malachy flynn, quinn wakefield

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