Fic: "let's have a heart to heart. here's mine, and here's a knife."

[redbrunja]

Title: let's have a heart to heart. here's mine, and here's a knife
Author: redbrunja
Fandom: Blade: Trinity
Pairing: Abigail Whistler/Hannibal King
Rating: R
Summary: King had been with the Nightstalkers for about a year and a half before he ran into Whistler Sr.

King had been with the Nightstalkers for about a year and a half before he ran into Whistler Sr.

Hannibal wasn't about to admit this, but it had taken him a ridiculously long time to put together "Abigail Whistler" with "that old dude that reportedly hangs out with Blade." In his defense, Abby pretty much never mentioned her father, and when she did, she didn't call him dad. And Danica periodically creaming her panties over Blade, his death count, et cetera, was something King had felt pretty safe tuning out, and he'd never paid Danica more attention than he was forced to.

So Hannibal had closed the freezer one day, and there Abraham Whistler was, looking older than dirt, Abby two steps behind him, with her game face on.

"Abby tells me you're Hannibal King," Whistler Sr. said, looking unimpressed.

King had kept the ice pack pressed to his jaw. A vampire had almost ripped his jaw off; even with his beard, the bruises were beautiful. "Guilty," he'd replied, and tossed off a sloppy salute with his left hand.

Whistler Sr. had made a noise that could have been an old man's pointed throat-clearing or could have been an old man struggling to breathe or could have been an old man choking on outrage.

Then he'd limped off, Abby following.

King watched them go, feeling like someone had tapped out shave-and-a-hair-cut and forgotten two-bits.

Which, okay, he didn't think Abby had talked to her dad and been, like, 'Oh, Hannibal King, been spending a lot of time with him, you know, he's the one who gave everything around here awesome names -Nightstalkers, that was all him- and he's kind of a badass and BTW, he's also the ex-vamp I'm knocking boots with on the regular."

But, that was Abby's dad. Didn't dads have some kind of sixth sense about the guys panting after their daughters?

King had kind of been expecting a threat or two against his life and definitely one against his balls.

"So that was weird, right?" King said, much later, propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at Abby, sprawled out naked next to him.

"Hmmm?" she said, sounding drowsy. He loved seeing her like this, loose-limbed, heavy-eyed, skin glowing from exertion. Fucked up as it was, he even liked seeing the marks his fingers and the rough of his beard had left start to bloom on her skin, knowing that tomorrow they'd been concealed by her clothes but still there, still proof of this.

He leaned down, kissed her. Her mouth tasted delicious, tasted like fucking, tasted like Abby, and he lost his train of thought for a while.

"I don't know if 'weird' would be the word I would use," Abby said at bit later, nose scrunching adorably. "I mean, not for what we just did..."

"No, earlier, with your dad," he clarified.

Abby raised her eyebrows, gave him a very familiar, 'really, King, you're doing this now?' look.

"Now, thank fuck, I haven't met many parents, but old Whistler Senior seemed kind of oddly hands off," King said. "Is he always like that? Are you sure he's your father?"

Abby jerked up, sucking in an outraged breath and King flinched back, half-expecting her to punch him.

She rolled off the bed, went to go yank on her discarded t-shirt. She shimmied into the panties he'd tugged off with his teeth two hours ago and then tossed his pants over her shoulder without turning around to face him. His pants hit the wall a foot away from him, the first time he'd seen Abby miss.

Her shoulders were stiff and it was only then that his brain managed to replay what he'd just said, for the whole weight of what an asshole comment that was to hit him.

"Fuck," he said, with feeling. He wished she'd just punched him, he totally deserved it.

"He just doesn't want to get attached, okay?" Abby said, still not looking at him. Her fists were clenched. "I was just - he's already lost his wife and his daughters, he doesn't need another one who's just going to get herself killed."

Wow, that sounded like a direct fucking quote.

"It's not a big deal," Abby said, clearly lying. "He trained me and he helped get me in contact with other hunters, he's just not... invested."

"He's a fucking idiot," King said, going to stand behind her. He couldn't imagine not being invested in Abby. He'd been invested since two seconds after he met her. Which, okay, she'd been offering him a get-out-of-hell-free card at that point, but still.

"Look, it's late, I'm tired," Abby rubbed her hands over her face.

He reached out, put a hand where her shoulder curved into her neck. She shivered, and then leaned into his touch. He could see just enough of her face to see her mouth purse, self-loathing ghosting across her face. Abby always hated having other people to see her hurting. Hedges had walked in on her stitching up a gash in her side once and she'd almost shot him.

King rested his chin on her other shoulder, pressed a quick kiss to the skin there.

"I'm a fucking idiot, too," he said. "It was a stupid thing to say."

Abby frowned. "Are you ....apologizing?"

"Yeah? Maybe?"

Abby snorted a laugh and King felt tension leave his spine.

"I'm not good with, you know, feeling words, so there is an element of uncertainly here," he tilted his head, nipped softly at Abby's earlobe.

She made a pleased little sound and twisted around to face him. "Schrödinger's emotions?" she played along, not quite managing to sound light, but clearly trying.

"Exactly," he said, and kissed her, relieved to be back on familiar ground.