alittlebitoldschool-blog

[alittlebitoldschool-blog]

"Frank Castle? The Punisher? God, that little idiot is going to get himself killed."

Good riddance, Roy thinks to himself. It would certainly solve a lot of problems, and Jacob was far away enough that he wouldn’t have to deal with the inevitable collateral that would come about when two very destructive forces met.

Out loud, he grunts noncommittally and finds more interest in the cream content of his tea than necessary. “Ye want me tae send someone in, have him moved to a new location?”

[alittlebitoldschool-blog]

rcddiesel:

Sometimes, even if you see the bullet coming, you still can’t dodge it. Jake had known that Roy would not keep the conversation as light as he had throughout dinner and the fact that his glass seemed to almost magically refill every time it even threatened to become empty was a clear warning sign.

He did not drink much, or often and the alcohol had gotten to him, making him feel warm and slightly lightheaded and the food had further softened his mood into something melancholic, almost. “Yes…”, Jacob sighed finally, leaning back in the chair and folding his long hands around the tumbler resting against his belly. “And you are going to ask me what I’m doing here.”

Taking a deep breath, Jake tilted his head to look at his friend. He couldn’t even be mad about his friend’s ploy. Honestly, he would have done the same. Had done something similar some years back when there had been issues with Karen.

“I have some unfinished business here.”, it wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t entirely the only reason either. It was the reason he was in England, maybe, but it wasn’t the reason he wasn’t in Cairo anymore, sitting out on the little balcony with Max leaning against him and a glass of wine or a bottle of beer in his hand, watching the dessert night fall over the city.

“Yeah... d’ye want some company for that?” There was only so long that the morgue would hang on to a body before proper procedure had to be followed. With Ruan’s next of kin being either dead or unavailable due to being international criminals, there had only been so much that could be done to stall their usual disposal methods. 

Roy had done his best to at least ensure there was a proper grave for him, whenever Jake could finally make it back. He deserved that much.

And he knew for a fact Jake hadn’t had the time to properly mourn his son. From the moment he���d said his goodbyes, it had been a whirlwind of activity, between breaking that crazy little cop out of imprisonment and fleeing across Europe, there simply hadn’t been time. To some degree, Roy suspected he’d been avoiding it, keeping himself busy, but now he was back.

Back, without the little pest attached at the waist. That said a lot.

“...Jake.” Roy leaned over to top the tumbler off again. “Ye can tell me tae sod off if ye want but I’m gonna keep asking. What happened in Cairo? Ye were there for -- what, four months? And then ye dump the little madman in New York and leave without a way tae trace ye... I know ye better than that.”

[alittlebitoldschool-blog]

rcddiesel:

@alittlebitoldschool:

“He’s little, he’s a problem, and ye seem awfully invested in what happens tae him, so I’d say that makes him yuirs. So, yeah… yeah he is.”

“You make him sound like a smoking habit.”, Jacob harrumphed, rolling his eyes.

“Bad for yuirs and everyone else’s health and comes with advisory warnings that everyone ignores? Sounds about right.”

[alittlebitoldschool-blog]

"He's not my 'little problem'!"

“He’s little, he’s a problem, and ye seem awfully invested in what happens tae him, so I’d say that makes him yuirs. So, yeah… yeah he is.”

[alittlebitoldschool-blog]

James McAvoy by Soraya Dayani 

[alittlebitoldschool-blog]

rcddiesel:

[text: Roy] A man could, yes. You? No. I will see you at eight.

He trusted and adored Roy, but he also knew that Roy did nothing without reason. He had an idea of what the reason was. Not hard to guess, after he had asked him to keep an eye on Max. After everything, really.

But he owed Roy at least an explanation. Answers to the questions he knew his friend had. Roy had helped him both with getting Max out of prison and with their flight.

When Jacob showed up at Roy’s house that night at six minutes to eight, he was carrying a bottle of Glenfiddich and a heavy feeling in his stomach. But when Roy opened the door after he had rung the bell, Jake was smiling. “You look good for a dead man.”

“Fuck ye, Jake, I look good regardless. Come here,” Roy threw his arms out and drew the taller man in for a warm embrace. Jacob felt thin – he was always narrow, but he’d definitely lost a bit of weight since he’d last seen him. Life on the run was never easy, and his friend wasn’t getting any younger.

To say he was worried was an understatement.

“Come on, then, no sense darkening my doorstep.” He kept a hand on Jake’s lower back, ushering him inside. “Go make yuirself comfortable – no, don’t go trying tae help, ye go relax or I’ll knock ye on yuir arse.”

With no wife or children about to force him to act semi-civilized, Roy had opted to skipping taking their meal at the dinner table and set up in front of the fireplace, where the seats were more comfortable and their plates could be set on the end tables. It was warmer and gave a feeling of intimacy, both of which would make Jacob more inclined to speaking freely. So he returned from the kitchen with two plates of homemade Scottish cooking, setting one on the table next to Jake’s chair and one on his.

“Ahh, shit, glasses –” he remembered out loud, and ducked back into the kitchen, returning with two tumblers for the whisky. The meal was mostly taken with small talk – Jacob asking about the kids and tentatively sidestepping asking too much about Karen, while Roy mostly shrugged, said their grades were alright but Dalia was too like her mother and Teagan was going through one those phases where he didn’t think he had to listen to a damn soul. He made sure to keep Jake’s glass topped off, till the man was looking properly glassy-eyed and flushed.

Luckily for him, Jake had never been much of a drinker.  

“So… Yuir back in England.” Roy finally said, by way of getting started on his bigger concerns.

[alittlebitoldschool-blog]

@rcddiesel

[text: Egghead] Can’t a man make dinner for an old friend without ulterior motives being involved?

[text: Egghead] Besides, you were skin and bones the last I saw you and I’m betting that hasn’t gotten any better keeping that little loony under control. 

It wasn’t a lie. He really was worried about the man he’d known for the better part of their lives. Jacob was generally good about taking care of his health -- he was far too fond of efficiency to let himself start to slide physically, but stress had a habit of eating up what little body fat the man could manage to put on, and Roy had no intention of letting him get away without at least one hearty meal in him as long as they had some spare time together.

That they had the house to themselves and it was the first time in years he’d had some genuine time alone with the man, well, one couldn’t blame him for wanting to enjoy the company while it lasted.