Rain pounded down on the narrow street making the ground underfoot treacherous and slippery. The only sounds that could be heard were the noise of the wind howling round the sharp corners of the houses, the rain drumming on the uneven cobbles and the occasional shutter that had come open banging loudly. A figure could just be seen as a dark shadow against a darker background hurrying home. There was no light to illuminate this street so the figure stumbled frequently and occasionally crashed into the surrounding buildings with a surprised curse.

As he reached the end of the street the figure stopped and wrapped his patched and threadbare coat tighter around himself with a shudder. For a minute he stayed stood on the corner looking around as if to work out where he was then he hurried off again down a narrow alley with a nod of his head. It was even darker here so he made slow progress feeling along the wall and stopping every now and then. About half way along the alley the man came to a halt by a battered door and pulled a rusty key from his pocket. With numb fingers he struggled to get the key into the lock, cursing crossly when the door didn't open. Slamming a shoulder into the warped wood several times as he turned the key the soaked figure battled with the door for a while getting more and more frustrated the longer it took to get inside. Eventually with a loud groan of wood and a screech of rusty hinges the door slowly inched open and the man slipped inside, happy to be out of the rain at last.

The hallway was silent and pitch black and smelt of mould and other unpleasant things but this didn't seem to bother the drenched figure who hurried along the narrow passage until he reached a door at the end with peeling dark paint and a crack in it. Pulling another key from his pocket he unlocked this door and pushed it open with a creak.

"Feuilly?", an unexpected voice asked, making the figure jump and somebody could be heard shuffling about inside the room.

"What on earth are you doing here?", Feuilly demanded angrily, slamming his door shut behind him and groping around in the dark for the last candle he had left, "You made me jump!" He did not particularly want visitors this evening. It was already very late and he had been looking forward to reading quietly for half an hour before going to bed. Clearly that was not going to happen now. With a sigh he found the candle and lit it regretting his foolish decision to give Bahorel a key to his room. It had been in case of emergencies but his friend had taken it as an invitation to drop round whenever he felt like it. Sighing again Feuilly turned to face his friend. "You really shouldn't..." He voice died away with an angry hiss when he saw Bahorel's face.

Large, dark bruises completely covered the left side of his face from his jaw to his eye, which was swollen shut, his lip was split and blood slowly oozed down his chin and dripped onto his cravat. Blood also trickled from his nose and there was a nasty scratch across his forehead. It was normal for Bahorel to have some kind of injury from the various fights he got into but Feuilly had rarely seen him looking this bad. From the way he was sat leaning to one side and trying not to move too much it was fairly obvious that the injuries were not restricted to his face.

"What happened?", Feuilly wanted to know his voice full of concern as he shrugged out of his wet coat, dropped it on the floor and hurried to crouch in front of his friend peering up into his battered face.

With what he obviously hoped was a casual shrug Bahorel grinned lopsidedly at his friend. "It's nothing. Just another fight." He winced as he moved his left shoulder, a brief flash of pain visible in his eyes before he turned his head away. "You should get out of those wet clothes before..."

"Never mind about that," Feuilly interrupted reaching out and gently running his fingers over Bahorel's swollen face making him flinch, "What are you doing here? Why didn't you go and ask Joly for help?"

"I didn't want to disturb him and I knew you'd still be awake so I thought I'd come here." Bahorel shifted slightly in the chair and let out a pained hiss as he spoke. "I think I might have cracked some ribs and there's something wrong with my shoulder," he explained as Feuilly looked worried, "It really isn't as bad as it looks. I just need to clean some of this blood off and I'll be fine." The law student tried his best to smile reassuringly but it looked just a little too forced and he gave up again when Feuilly clearly didn't believe him.

Getting to his feet Feuilly made his way across the room to find a cloth and some water. He didn't like seeing one of his best friends like this, covered in blood and clearly in pain but he knew Bahorel wouldn't appreciate being fussed over. Better to just humour him and pretend not to be worried. Crouching back down again and placing the candle on the floor beside him Feuilly gently began to wash the blood from his friend's face, fixing him with a disapproving frown whenever their eyes met. "You should be more careful," he scolded as he wiped the cut above Bahorel's eye, "You might get seriously hurt one of these days."

The law student shook his head with a chuckle. "I can look after myself."

"I can see that," Feuilly muttered sarcastically under his breath so Bahorel couldn't hear him. He dropped the now blood-stained cloth back into the bowl of water and sat back on his heels to study his friend. To his immense relief Bahorel did actually look a lot better now that he didn't have trails of blood smeared across his face. "There's nothing I can do about your ribs or your shoulder I'm afraid," he said regretfully, "You really should have gone to see Joly. He would have known what to do."

Shaking his head Bahorel got carefully to his feet and Feuilly stood up with him ready to catch him if he wobbled but he seemed able to stand by himself. "Thank you," he whispered and without warning he lent forward and kissed Feuilly on the lips.

Unsure of what to do and totally shocked Feuilly just stood there for a second. Bahorel's lips were rough and dry and he could taste wine and blood on them. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was sure he should do something, protest, push him away but instead he found himself tangling his fingers into the taller man's hair and pulling him closer.

"I love you," Bahorel whispered against his lips and Feuilly felt a warm glow spread through his whole body. How had he never realised before? How could he have been so blind? They had always been close but he had just never thought about his feelings for the other man before. Now everything seemed to make perfect sense, why he always looked forward to seeing Bahorel so much, why he found himself watching him when he talked even from across the room, why he missed him so much when he wasn't there. He pulled away for a second and looked up into his friend's eyes. "I love you, too."

Then Bahorel was kissing him again and they were stumbling backwards across the room. Feuilly felt his leg connect with the bed and together they toppled onto it still kissing.

It was very late when Feuilly finally fell asleep with his head resting on Bahorel's chest. He knew he would be tired in the morning but somehow at that moment he just couldn't bring himself to care. As he dropped off listening to the sound of Bahorel's breathing he briefly wondered whether this had been Bahorel's plan all along but before he could decided if that was the case or not he was fast asleep.