Page 106 of Total Creative Control

What struck Lewis most as he read was the power of the internal point of view. Hearing Faolán’s thoughts was… Well, it was no surprise that he sounded a lot like Aaron. Faolán was, as Lewis had only recently come to understand, somewhat based on Aaron: Skye’s cute and faithful sidekick with an undertone of forbidden sexual tension. Not that Faolán had started out precisely that way. It was only after Aaron had started working at RPP that Lewis had recognised Faolán’s long-term potential.

Shoving that thought aside, Lewis started scrolling through the story titles again. His eye caught on one called, innocently enough,Pizza Night. It made him think of all those late-night pizzas he and Aaron had shared, as they worked. Clicking through, he began to read.

Pizza NightbyJägerMeister

Leeches

After Amy storms out, Skye and Faolán are left alone...(Coda: S05e10 “Bushido”)

Bushido. That had been a tricky episode, and an important one. It had picked up multiple seemingly unconnected threads from previous episodes which had then needed to be woven together into the end of season five storyline. Lewis distinctly remembered working through a whole weekend with Aaron on that episode, and Aaron’s infectious enthusiasm, even when faced with the knottiest of plot problems.

Curious, he read on.

When everyone else has left, they end up sitting on the floor with the pizza box open between them.

Margherita, extra-large.

Skye prefers simple food, and Faolán is happy to indulge him. They’ve never discussed it, but Faolán suspects Skye’s undeveloped palate is a result of having been turned so young.

He never had a chance to develop adult tastes.

Now, Skye’s sitting with his back against the wall, long, lean legs stretched out before him. They’re still clad in the black jeans he was wearing during the fight, and there’s a rip near the top of one thigh—courtesy of Merrick’s vicious wooden stake.

Through the tear, Faolán glimpses a flash of ivory skin. He looks away hurriedly.

“I adore pizza,” Skye says. He’s already working on his fourth slice. “But you really need to go to Naples for the good stuff. Specifically, Naples circa 1898. Glorious.”

Faolán huffs as he reaches for another slice. “Given that I don’t own a time machine, I’ll have to make do with Domino’s. And can you slow down? I’m starving, and this is actually a meal for me instead of a...” What had Skye called it? “...a gastronomic indulgence?”

Skye slides him a smiling look. “True. But too much pizza will make you fat, my friend, whereas I…” He takes an enormous bite. “Will never change.”

“Sure,” Faolán says darkly. “Until someone sticks a stake between your ribs.” He’s looking at the slash in Skye’s jeans again; it had been too close. And even though Amy’s already delivered the lecture, Faolán can’t help but say, “You should never have gone there alone tonight. Amy’s right. It was rash.”

Skye doesn’t answer until he’s finished his mouthful—impeccable manners, vampires. “Well,” he says, “since we’re talking about imprudence, you should not have been there at all. I specifically told you I could handle it.”

“Handle it?” Faolán almost chokes on his pizza. “You weren’t handling it. Merrick had that stake to your—”

“All right.” Anger flashes in Skye’s eyes.

Or at least that’s what Faolán would have called it a year ago. Now he knows better. Now he recognises that stormy expression as fear.

“It was dangerous tonight,” Skye says shortly. “You and Amy could have been killed. Or worse.”

“Worse?”

Skye gives him a speaking look and doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t need to.

“Okay, fine. But you could have been killed too. And I couldn’t—” Faolán shakes his head, feeling his throat tighten. “I know this might shock you, but I’d actually miss you. If you were, you know, dead.”

Skye eyes him. Faolán concedes, “Dead-er.”

After a pause, Skye says, “As it happens, I’d miss you too. You make my life—my existence—tolerable.”

“Tolerable?” Faolán smiles. “Now, don’t go getting all mushy on me.”

Skye lets out a put-upon sigh, but when his eyes meet Faolán’s, there’s a glint in their depths, one Faolán hasn’t seen before. A hint of the boy he’d once been, perhaps?

“This is very tolerable.” Skye gestures between them with his slice of pizza, encompassing the food, the dimly lit room. Perhaps even the night itself. “Very tolerable indeed. I should have been sorry to miss it.” Then his expression grows more complex, and he adds, “Thank you, Faolán, for… For coming to my aid.”