(no subject)

[therealpm]

*He's almost finished setting up the hex for tomorrow (Frances is persistent, a simple phone block will not be enough), when he remembers the still rather pitiable state of his wards.*

Hmmmm.

*He finishes the spell, then dashes off a quick text.*


Text from 07### ######

John,

change of plan. Coming over this evening. Prepare the spare bedroom.

-Peter


*He's pretty certain John still feels enough residual guilt to maintain the apartment's wards against an angry Frances.*

Comments

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*John rolls his eyes and tries to control his temper.*

Thank you, Peter. I shall see to it tomorrow.

I am rather tired at the moment.

Sally, stop sniggering.

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

Oh.

*Peter looks worried and chews his lip.*

It's... well it's not very safe, is it?

*He notices John's expression growing stormier and holds up both hands.*

Just.... if you wanted a hand. That's all.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

*At Peter's last comment Sally starts outright laughing, then wanders off to calm down. John simply sighs, puts his tea down and gets to work on the wards.*

Are there any other gaps of which I should be made aware?

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*They spend the next hour or so stitching together and reinforcing the wards until Peter is satisfied that he'll be safe tomorrow and John's eyelids are beginning to droop.

Peter gives the flat one last scan, then nods decisively.*

Finished.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

Marvelous.

May I go back to bed now?

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

*Peter blinks as what John says combines with the vague memory of a smell from earlier to give him a rather firm idea of what exactly it was he interrupted.*

I...yes.


Good night.

[bamfbercow.livejournal.com]

I'm sure you know where everything is by now. The spare room is set up if you'd rather not sleep on the sofa.

*John leaves to go back to bed, too tired and annoyed to fully appreciate Peter's uncomfortable embarrassment.*

[therealpm.livejournal.com]

....

*Peter heads off to the spare bedroom, trying not to think of what this revelation means for the sly smiles and other gestures Sally had been making earlier. He doesn't sleep well.*