The gap in between

The gap inbetween

Gods knows how they even ended up in this situation, having ran into him when stranded in the middle of nowhere. Evans still new to This part of England, alright? Can you blame him? It all looks the same. It's also freezing and he wouldn't leave Evan alone, apparently here for some special meeting or whatever.

He doesn't really care.

Long given up on the, nice, casual, assassination attempts, all proving useless unless he gets his hands on something that would be enough. The couldn't hesitate him from plunging the knife. Of which is rare, and his wand can't form that.

Annoying.

Perhaps he can try again though, the thought that entered his mind when they came across the dingy hotel. It's cold, and wet, and they don't have to stay in the same rooms.

Breaking into the other boys and, very nicely, stabbing him a few times would be easy. Evan can leave before the other would get him, as if he could anyways.

So, plan formed. Check into the rooms, make his move, leave.

"Sorry, there's only one room available."

Decisions are being regretted. He takes a deep breath through his nose, letting it out before going to speak and being, rudely, interrupted.

"Well, rosie, seems as though we're spending the night together." Barty winks and Evan just turn around to leave before a hand lands on his arm.

His hand immediately goes to his wand, currently tucked neatly in his belt under his jumper, before faltering. They're in front of a civilian, a muggle civilian. Barty knows this. Bastard.

spinning back around and shrugging his arm off him as he places his hands on the counter. Nails digging so hard into it they leave marks.

"Can you check again, please?" Evan asks through gritted teeth and the woman swallows and looks down at her computer before timidly glancing back up.

"I'm sorry, sir, but this close to Christmas, we don't have that many openings" She winces.

Alright then, that's that. it's fine. They'll sleep, or Barty will, and Evan'll disappear in the night before he wakes up. He must have some form of money on him, Evan could use that to try get back to somewhere familiar.

Grabbing the keys with a bit more force necessary and ignoring Barty's grin, He turns on his heel and starts walking towards the elevator.

As soon as they get in the facades drop, Barty's floozy, and somewhat manic, smile fades and Evans eyes harden as they settle on him.

"Well isn't this great" he huffs and Barty glances at him, brows furrowing.

"it isn't my fault there wasn't any rooms." He scowls and Evan matches it, shifting so he's entirely facing the other.

"Of course it isn't, when is anything ever your fault?"

"Oh shut up, Rosier"

"Make me" Evan bites back, eyes flashing and he can see Barty's jaw tick, eye twitch slightly.

He almost smiles, revelling in the rush riling the other up gives him. The tension so thick it could be cut with a soft stroke of a pin. Filled with unspoken words and loathing. Simply just loathing.

Thankfully the doors open and he rushes out, boots thumping on the ground as he twists through the halls until finding the right number.

Felling Crouch come up behind him and the regret from earlier rises back up his throat, swallowing it down and opening the door only to halt.

He bumps into Evan and starts to curse before cutting himself off.

There's only one bed.

One.

Bed.

You have got to be fucking kidding.

Closing his eyes and taking, yet again, a deep breath. Taking a step into the room of horrors, and another, and another. Well, there's only one thing they can do.

"You're sleeping on the floor" Evan states and he whips his head around to him.

"What? Fuck no, you can."

Furrowing his brows. "Why would i?"

"Why wouldn't you?" Barty huffs then pulls out a coin, "We'll flip for it."

Evan rolls his eyes but doesn't complain, raising his brows as he flips the coin and they both call for it.

"Heads"

"Tails"

He grins when it lands on tails, giving him a sarcastic pout before laying on the bed. Making sure to make a show of how comfortable it is.

When he glances up at the other, he don't see the expected annoyed expression, or the bored frown he usually has. Not even a sarcastic smile. It's something different, something that makes Evan want to shy away yet can't take his eyes off. He does, ripping his gaze away after a moment and throwing a couple pillows, out of the kindness of his own heart, on the ground along with the spare blanket.

He hums and sits up, watching as the other crosses the room. His eyes anywhere but on him. Rude, the sentiment is shared.

Two showers and take out later, they settle. Evan happy and content in such a wonderfully cozy bed and Barty..on the floor.

Or would be content if the moron didn't keep moving and making a racket, honestly you'd think he wanted Evan to stab him. How could you not when someone is capable of being so utterly irritating?

"Oh for the love of the gods, Crouch, could you shut up?" Evan huffs, turning towards him and looking down at the cause of his annoyance.

Barty glares back up at him, sarcasm rolling off his tongue, "Oh how ever sorry i am. The floor just doesn't seem to be as comfortable and one may have thought."

Evan frowns, not responding and laying back down normally.

Groaning when it's now been half an hour, Crouch is still awake and being loud and he's not in a peaceful slumber right now as he should be. He barely sleeps in general and the one time he does tries to, this is what he gets?

"For fuc- Just get in here." He say before his mind can catch up to it. Trying not to dwell on this decision for too long. Quiet, just wanted to quiet. He doesn't respond for a beat, slowly sitting up.

"If you wanted me in your bed so bad, coulda just asked."

Regret is an old friend, a constant one too. Evan can practically hear the smile in his voice.

It doesn't take much convincing, he's practically in the bed before the words had even left his mouth. Loudly, may Evan add, settling himself down.

They lay with their backs to each other, the new found quiet making gaps for awkwardness to deep through. Soft breaths mixing in the small room. The faint smell of the others shampoo drifting, citrusy and fitting.

Evan can feel his heat on his back, can feel how close he is. So close that he could just shift in a certain way and they'd be touching.

Does he want that? Would that send courses of electricity through him like Dora says it should? Match the thrill fighting with him gives? Or something else entirely? He doesn't even know if that would be a good thing, to be fair.

He turns, facing Evan, and Evan does to. Mirroring his movements, jotting his face down in the low light.

Dark eyes and fair skin, scars littered and one prominent going through his eye. Evan never asked how he got it, he already knew. Even if he didn't, why should he care? Instead be grateful and maybe even admire the one who did it.

He can tell Barty's doing the same, can see the way his eyes flicker across Evans own. Can sense them, always could. It's a useful asset sometimes, but it feels different in moments like this.

When they pause.

Not actively fighting, or plotting against eachother, or even with each other to take down a greater threat. No, this, the gap inbetween them. The grey area, the space where they can just be with one and other.

It's filled with hurt and silent messages, it's simply them being human.

bringing a hand up and hesitating, watching as Barty stiffens when he brings it close to his face. But doesn't pull away like he could, like he would. Doesn't grab Evans hand and smile as he hears it crack painfully. Just watches. Evan brings down his hand to lightly trace the scar on his eye, feeling the bumps of the rough skin beneath his fingers.

Feeling his own pulse run through him, matching with his own. Intertwining and forming something of their own.

He lets his hand rest on the crook of Barty's neck, the steady beat evident, he never takes his eyes off of Evan.

And they sleep, Evan doesn't stab him, or disappear in the middle of the night.

They sleep curled around each other, close but never close enough. Souls reaching yet pride blocking them, hurt stopping their way and forcing them apart. As it should, as it is meant to.

They wake up with tangled limbs and awkward glances and angry murmurs. Though they're softer, They both don't want to leave. They know they should, they know this isn't how the story is meant to go. Checking out of the hotel and walking in our separate ways, silently agreeing to ignore this night. To ignore that moment. To leave it behind, to go back to normal, or whatever that may be.

To leave the gap in between.