Nighttime Frights

“I think we’d be fine,” June says with all of the confidence in the world because he can. 

Sylas only looks at him funny but nods understandingly. “Well you’d win in a fist fight.” 

“Not in a fist fight. I’m just hard to kill,” he replies. 

After all, his entire job can be summed up as doing dangerous things and not dying. But in June’s way of putting it, it really actually means ‘getting thrown down staircases and lit on fire’ instead of winning an actual fight. He’s never actually punched anyone else. 

June’s been punched though. Many many times. 

“Still. That’s a good thing.” 

A beat. 

He turns to look at Sylas. “You’re talking as if I’m going to leave you behind or something if those lurkers appear.” 

“Well last time we went to that haunted house–” 

“It was one time,” he whines as they round a corner. These days June isn’t sure if he should be staying at Sylas’ place or his own apartment. They don’t communicate about it much, rather it’s just an attempt to fit together even if they don’t know each other well. 

At least June has his lanturn. It makes the dark mildly less scary. 

“And plus, we’ll be fine. We’ll live.” 

“Right because if you get into a mess I’ll clobber you myself,” Sylas mutters under his breath. Really, June’s not quite sure when Sylas started clinging onto him. Between the two of them, shouldn’t Sylas be  the one who’s not cold? 

Their footsteps continue to echo as June wonders how Burrowgatory got into this mess in the first place. Really, they haven’t done anything and he wonders how Lucius is holding up. The guy works in the church anyways and in his eyes, is someone who cannot cope with anything. 

“Do you want my jacket?” June asks Sylas instead. “Later I mean. You look cold.” 

The other bun only looks at him funny. Really it’s why he claims that he doesn’t know what they are to each other yet. It’s one of those questions that June would ask but also he doesn’t think Sylas would even give him a straight answer in the first place.  

“I won’t bother returning it if you give it to me,” Sylas points out as they round another corner. June swears they’re lost. In Burrowgatory of all places. “And maybe we ought to get a drink. It’s not like you’re working tomorrow.” 

Well. Technically he isn’t on call but he’s closer to a freelancer between the two of them. 

“You have practice.” 

“I always have practice.” 

June doesn’t have a reply for that. Technically the practice never ends but then again, he’s not sure how this walk even started in the first place given how he’s coming back from another day on a set. His head is still buzzing from the noise and the night isn’t helping that much.

Really, part of him worries whether or not he can even keep Sylas safe if the situation comes to shove. Because he can throw a good punch and avoid breaking bones but Sylas is a figure skater. 

Maybe if there’s ice, there’d be more wiggle room but June is nothing if a worrier. 

(He knows how Lucius calls him someone far too loyal to those he cares about and doesn’t know when to back down but he doesn’t know what he should be like. 

A stuntman and someone with no preservation?  He remembers Lucius musing. It almost sounds like you’re asking to die stupidly. 

Except that’s his job. He’s the one who takes the fall for others because it’s expected. That way Burrrowgatory still has its beloved actors. June tells himself that he’s fine with that–)  

“I’m just saying that if the lurkers do jump out, you’d be out of your mind if you make me make a run for it, Mr ‘I know how to do parkour’.” 

June blinks, turns to look at Sylas and the confusion must show on his face because the other bun raises a brow. 

“I could carry you?” he proposes. “It’s not like you weigh that much to me–” 

“But if you are going to climb up a wall, I will bite you.” 

Of course Sylas will. June doesn’t expect anything else from him. “But if things go south, you’re better off running. You said that I’m the one who’d win a fist fight–” 

“Only if you let me throw a shoe at them first before running.” 

A beat. 

June raises a brow. “Whose shoe are you throwing?” 

“Neither of ours. Or maybe I’ll throw a brick instead.” 

“Please don’t hit me instead, Sylas.”

And from what he knows about Sylas, the odds are that the poor lurker is fucked. Even June wouldn’t fight him on a good day, much less a bad day and he’s the one who can actually fight. 

“Stop thinking, it’s stupid of you to think that a lurker would be enough to take you away from me.”