Hey sorry about that! Can I request 24 with BBCs Robin Hood instead? With Sir Guy and Allan-a-Dale?
Here you go Nonnie! Some cute early friendship fluff! also posted on ao3
Allan, it seemed, was becoming an indispensable part of Guy’slife. What had started as a straightforward spymaster-spy relationship wasquickly starting to resemble a true partnership, although Guy never let Allanforget who was boss. Allan wasn’t fazed by that; in fact, to Guy’s annoyance,he sometimes got the feeling he found it amusing. His laughter was never reallyat Guy’s expense, however, which made a welcome change from the Sheriff and, hehad to admit, even Marian at times.
Yes, Allan was becoming all but vital to Guy’s day-to-dayexistence and he didn’t like it much, even when Allan defended him from theSheriff (mostly by coming up with smarter plans than Guy ever could) or joinedhim, uninvited, for a drink in a tavern of an evening. Allan would witter on orleave him in peace by turns, but he never demanded any form of contributionfrom Guy, and Guy found himself feeling grateful (pathetic, spat the voiceinside his head that belonged to the Sheriff) for his companionship.
One such evening, as Allan was telling a story of how he’donce conned a dozen different people within the space of an hour, Guyinterrupted him mid-flow.
“When did you get so comfortable with me?” he burst out.
Allan raised his eyebrow, a bit miffed at being interruptedin the middle of what he thought was an excellent story. “What?” he said.
“I mean, everyone else is either scared of me, or they wantme to do their bidding. You’re…neither of those.”
Allan grinned and shook his head in amusement. “I was neverscared of you, Guy. Of the things you had the power to do to me, yeah sure, butnot of you.”
Guy furrowed his brow. “Why?”
Allan shrugged. “You’re just – now don’t take this the wrongway but – you’re just not a very scary bloke.”
Guy glowered at him, which just made Allan chuckle, provinghis point.
“I mean, especially since I’ve gotten to know you, I cantell – all the brooding and the glaring and the outbursts – it’s just an act,innit?”
“You think you’ve gotten to know me, then?” said Guy, hisvoice more curious than dangerous.
Allan nodded. “Pretty well, I think. Better than most anyoneat the castle, at any rate.”
“Hm,” Guy said, hunching his shoulders and curling in onhimself.
“You alright, Giz?” asked Allan, worried he’d said somethingwrong. “You want another drink?”
Guy let the use of that awful nickname pass, just this once.He shook his head. “No, I’m fine, Allan,” he said, tiredly. “I’m just going togo home.”
Allan nodded. “Right you are,” he said, although he made nomove to get up himself, instead calling the barman over for another drink.
Guy huffed a laugh and turned to go. Then, hating himselffor voicing the thought out loud, he turned back and asked, “What am I to you,Allan?”
Allan looked taken aback at the vulnerability inherent inboth the question and his voice. He rolled his neck around uncomfortably. “Uh,well, you’re my boss,” he said.
“Is that all?” asked Guy, unable to keep the disappointmentfrom edging into his voice.
“S’pose you’re a sort of friend now,” Allan mumbled noncommittally.“Probably the only one I’ve got left, matter of fact.”
Guy couldn’t help the small smile that graced his featuresat that, even hearing the bitterness in Allan’s tone at his second comment.
“All right, friend,” he said, testing the foreign word outon his tongue, sounding probably more cheerful than he had in years, “I’ll seeyou at 6 o’clock sharp tomorrow morning in the castle courtyard. Goodnight,Allan.”
Allan groaned half-heartedly but then grinned back at him. “G’night,Guy,” he said, turning back to his drink as Guy left the tavern. Guy ofGisborne was a strange’un, he thought, and make no mistake.
