SLEEPING ARRANGEMENTS

Pairing: Vila/Tarrant, Avon/Blake

Author: Evi L'Influence

Notes: Originally published in THE BIG B7 ZINE (1993)

Sleeping Arrangements
by Evi L'Influence

"Where is Vila?"

Tarrant heard the question and chose to ignore it. He simply did not care to speak with Avon, or anyone else, at the moment. Although he'd recovered quite satisfactorily from the injuries he'd received on Gauda Prime, as they all had, he was not over the constant nagging tiredness which often results from a long convalescence. Between the fatigue, and the close quarters he shared with Avon, Vila and Blake - Well, one could say he was just a touch on the cranky side.

"Tarrant," the nasal voice nagged, "have you gone quite deaf? I asked you-"

"I heard you, Avon," Tarrant interrupted. With a sigh, he closed the book he'd been reading, and turned to face the irritable computer tech. "I simply assumed that there must be someone else present to answer you. Someone who might care where Vila is. Someone who might care to tell you, if they knew."

Avon blinked at the uncharacteristically sharp response. What was Tarrant's problem? "All right then, perhaps you know where Blake is?"

"No Avon," came the increasingly emphatic reply, "I-DO-NOT-KNOW-WHERE-BLAKE-IS!" With that, Tarrant reopened his book and proceeded to read, pointedly ignoring Avon.

Avon's temper had already been badly frayed by the excessively long period he'd spent nursing the three invalids back to health. As the only survivor of Gauda Prime who hadn't sustained serious physical injury, all nursing duties had fallen on him. It had been, to put it mildly, a living hell. And now, to have this insolent young pup speak in this manner...

Rapidly, Avon advanced on the younger man, and with a swift movement, knocked the book from Tarrant's hands. "You will have the courtesy to look at me when I am speaking to you."

Tarrant returned the tech's icy glare with equal force. Slowly, he rose to his feet, deliberately looming over the shorter man. "Careful Avon," he drawled, "your sunny disposition is starting to slip. What's the problem? Vila not keeping you warm enough on the long cold nights?"

"Why you little..." Avon hissed, clenched fists threatening.

"Alright, Avon." Provocative in the extreme, Tarrant drew the angry man closer with beckoning gestures of his hands. "I've been waiting for a good excuse to-"

"What in the name of all the gods is going on here?" boomed an angry voice from the doorway.

Both whirled at the interruption. "Keep out of it, Blake," Avon snarled. "This is between the two of us."

"Nonsense!" Blake said firmly. "I will not allow this to continue." Crossing the small room, Blake took up a position between the two adversaries. "What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?" he inquired mildly.

Defeated, momentarily, by the interruption, Tarrant retreated a step. Well, if he couldn't physically batter Avon...

"Avon can't seem to locate Vila. I wonder though," he paused, seeming to search his memory. "As I recall, Vila usually finds you, doesn't he? Wouldn't you agree, Avon? After all, I never saw you sneaking into his cabin in the dead of the night. Oh no, Vila always came to you. On Liberator, and on Xenon base. Yes...definitely, he always spent the night in your bed."

"What?!" Blake exclaimed. "You've been sleeping with Vila?"

Avon did not allow embarrassment to hamper his arrogant response. "I hardly think my sleeping arrangements are any of your concern, Blake. What should concern you, is Tarrant's reason for this little display. Your much-vaunted charisma must be waning, if your precious Tarrant is so concerned with Vila's sleeping arrangements."

"My precious Tarrant??" Blake asked forcefully. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"I am not concerned with Vila's sleeping arrangements!" bellowed Tarrant. Unfortunately, or not - as the case may be - both men spoke at the same time, thereby rendering both statements intelligible.

Deliberately timed, very loud, clapping noises caught the attention of the three antagonists. An extremely grim Vila entered the fray. "Well, well, well. If this isn't a right one for the books. Three Alphas fighting over little old me." Each man felt the heat of his scornful glare in turn. "I would be ever so grateful, if one of you would see fit to tell me why my sleeping arrangements, or lack thereof, should excite such lively controversy."

Three very proper Alpha-type men blushed scarlet and studied their feet.

"Well?" he asked with utmost gentility. Moving forward, he caught Blake's eye - and slyly winked at the flustered rebel. "Tarrant," that worthy flinched, and studiously avoided Vila's probing eye, "has it ever occurred to you, my boy, that there is generally more to any given situation than meets the eye? Hmmm? If you were so very worried about what is between Avon and myself, why didn't you ask me?" Patiently, he paused, waiting for an answer. When none was forthcoming, he directed his attention to Avon.

The mighty tech quailed before Vila's gimlet stare. "And you, Avon," blithely ignoring the pleading in Avon's eyes, Vila asked, "why don't you just tell Blake how you feel? That's what you always wished for, isn't it? Ever since he left Liberator you've been lamenting the fact that you never hold him how you felt. Well, this is your big chance, fool. And while you're baring your soul...Tell them why I was in your cabin. Tell them we never had sex. Tell them about the nightmares, the fear, the endless tears-"

"Vila," Avon growled, reaching for Vila's throat, desperate to stop the revealing statements. "I'm going to-"

Perceiving a threat to Vila's well-being, which had become of vital importance to him, Tarrant jumped between the thief and the enraged tech. Avon grunted his surprise when, rather than Vila's slightly out of condition, middle-aged frame, he found himself up against Tarrant's much younger, extremely fit, body.

The two men hit the floor in a tangle of arms and legs; squabbling madly, they rolled to and fro. Few actual blows appeared to be connecting, but the air fairly turned blue with the muttered imprecations coming from both combatants.

Impassively, Vila and Blake observed the battle. The second time they narrowly avoided collision with the madly rolling bodies, Vila turned to ask Blake, "Would you care to deal with this? Or shall I get us a drink and we'll let them duke it out?"

The large rebel reached down and plucked Tarrant off the floor, lifting his by the scruff of his neck. Carefully, he set the boy on his feet, propelling his toward Vila with a gentle push. "No, thank you very much. We've allowed this ridiculous situation to carry on far longer than necessary. Tarrant, you will now tell Vila that you love him. Vila, you will return the compliment. Avon and I," Blake moved to stand over the prone man, one foot on either side of the slim hips, "will do the same."

"Oh we will, will we?" snarled Avon from his position on the floor.

Blake smiled gently as he dropped to his knees, straddling Avon's body. Lifting a gentle hand to the guarded face, he murmured, "Yes, my love...we will. And," as he lowered his head, aiming for pouting lips, "I do, so very much." Avon did not respond - his mouth was otherwise occupied.

"Ahem."

Tarrant jumped at the sound, then shyly met Vila's soft gaze. His heart melted. There in those brown eyes, was the love he'd dreamed of, hoped for, despaired of ever seeing. Convulsively, he swallowed. "I do, you know," no sense hiding what must be obvious to all but the mentally impaired. "I wanted you so much, Vila. And I was so jealous of Avon. I guess," he blushed, "that's why I always acted so nasty to you. I just couldn't understand why you went to him, when he treated you so badly."

Vila accepted the charming apology with admirable aplomb. He'd never dreamed that this stunning young Alpha male could care about him. The boy had said he loved him though; Vila fully intended to convince him that the feeling was returned. In spades. Deliberately, he stepped forward, pressing himself against the delectable body. A shiver ran down his spine at the eager acceptance, at the obvious arousal pressing insistently into his hip.

Oh gods, it was good! Better than any dream. In silent concert, the two men sank to the floor.

Things grew progressively more heated until, at the same moment, each couple rolled toward the other.

"Damn!" moaned four voices, as they collided.

"Oh, fuck it!" groaned three voices, as they rolled apart.

"Exactly!" crowed Vila.

And they did.

The End