Avon/Vila for Vandonovan

[icarus_chained]

Title:  Seeing
Rating:  PG(ish)
Pairing:  Avon/Vila
Summary:  The trick with Avon is not to listen to what he says, but to watch what he does. Vila is quite good at this.
Wordcount:  1312
Disclaimer:  Characters belong to the Beeb. Lucky bastards.

Seeing

He and Avon fought regularly. No, that wasn't the right word. Fought was what Avon did with Blake. What they did was ... heckle, maybe. Snipe at each other, sometimes teasing, sometimes in earnest, always with an appreciation of the barbed wit of the other. Well, Vila appreciated Avon's wit, anyway. It was always hard to tell when the other man appreciated anything, unless it was a computer, or a woman. But Vila didn't begrudge him that one. Be a bit hypocritical, after all.

Their little arguments were acquiring something of a reputation, though nothing like the legendary nature of the battles with Blake. It'd be just a little difficult to top those. They were entertainment of the first order, Blake and Avon's little spats. Provided you weren't involved, or it didn't push one or the other into doing something stupid. But Vila liked to think that when he and Avon went at it, it provided some little spark to the lives of those around them too. In a less deadly way, which was always a bonus in Vila's book.

But the thing of it was, Vila knew Avon never really meant the things he said. Most of the time. But he did know for sure that Avon didn't actually care that he was a delta grade. It was just a handy label by which to package his insults, in the same way Blake was an 'idealist' or 'Fearless Leader', or, on Avon's less eloquent days, just a bloody fool. The marvellous thing about Avon was that he considered himself inherantly superior to everyone, so he didn't really care how you compared to other people. He just cared how you compared to him. You had to hand it to the bastard, at least he was democratic in his elitism. There was Avon, and then there was Everyone Else, and the level of vitriol you came in for was directly related to how much you were irritating him at that particular moment, and, oddly enough, how much he cared about you. In many ways, Vila prefered that severe simplicity to Blake's complicated system of worth and value. At least you knew where you stood with Avon. It was almost never anywhere good, but at least you knew where it was.

The trick with Avon, he'd found, was not to listen to what he said, but to watch what he did. If you listened to Avon and Blake go at it, you'd swear blind they hated each other's guts. And while that might not exactly be far wrong, it didn't take into account the fact that either of them would die for the other. And while Avon derided every single person on the Liberator at considerable length, and appeared to take considerable pleasure in letting them know he'd abandon them at the drop of a hat, there was Horizon, and that research station with ... with Gan, and all the other times ...

And if you listened to Avon talk about him, well, you'd get the distinct impression Avon thought he was the stupidest, weakest, most cowardly wimp going. Two out of three wasn't bad going, though, so you wouldn't have to be too hard on yourself. But Avon didn't think he was stupid. If Avon thought he was stupid, Vila was pretty sure the other man wouldn't talk to him at all. Avon wasn't tolerant of a lot of things, but stupidity put you so completely beneath his notice that he sooner talk to air. And the fact of it was, Avon would sooner talk to Vila than most other people on the ship, with the possible exception of Cally. But Vila couldn't exactly blame him there, either. And most of the time, Vila was just proud that the other man had recognised his genius for what it was.

As for what Vila thought of Avon ... that was more complicated. Avon was complicated. Avon thought Vila was a coward, and Vila, if he was honest, thought exactly the same of Avon. The difference lay in where they showed it. Avon had once asked him why he stayed with Blake, and Vila had told him he liked the man, and that was enough. And that was the difference. There were some people in life who were always going to lead you into danger. There were some people it was literally deadly to know. Avon knew it, and was afraid of the people, of getting close to them. Vila knew it too, but he settled for being afraid of the danger, not the people who led you to it. Danger was terrifying. The people were ... worth knowing, usually. Vila was a coward when it came to danger, and brave when it came to people. Avon was the other way around.

Which made Vila doubly proud of having gotten so close. Oh, so very close.

The trick with Avon was to watch what he did, not what he said. So you had to know how to watch. How to see that when Avon insulted him, derided his intelligence, his lineage and his skills, the man's eyes were warm, and crinkled at the sides. You had to see how Avon chose to go planetside with him, despite more than once calling him a coward. You had to see how Avon came to him to upgrade his lockpicking skills, instead of to a computer as he usually did.

And you had to see how his hands were the gentlest Vila had ever known, even if he was whispering the most vicious insults. You had to see how his kiss, despite being given through a smirk, was fierce and thorough and utterly designed for Vila to enjoy. You had to see how attentive he was, how he made so very sure that Vila enjoyed each and every experience, even if before and afterwards all he did was coldly ask, and coldly leave. You had to watch for the tenderness of his touch, the patience in the giving, the pleasure the seemingly uncaring man took in making him happy. You had to see him smile as he came, had to see his eyes shine with a warmth that was never in his voice, with a depth of emotion that the man would never let another living soul see.

You had to see the caring, when all you heard was contempt. And Vila did.

There were some people in the universe it was worth knowing, even if they led you to your end. There were some things it was worth giving, even if they could never fully give it back. There were some dangers worth braving, even if they cost you your life. Avon was one of those people, one of those things.

And sometimes, when the other man surprised him, with a little gift, with a game designed just for them, with a secret, sly smile where no-one else could see, Vila wondered if Avon felt the same about him. Sometimes he wondered if Avon could forget that people could hurt you, forget that people were dangerous, long enough to really love him back, the way he'd loved whoever had hurt him the first time. Sometimes, when those eyes were at their warmest, when those hands were at their gentlest and most exciting, when that smile had lost its vicious edge ... sometimes, he let himself believe it was possible. Those were the best of times.

But for when he couldn't hope for that, he cheerfully settled for the rest. He loved Avon, and that was more than enough. Avon made him happy, and that was more than he expected. And Avon liked him back, and that was more than he'd ever dreamed someone like him could have.

Vila firmly believed that as long as you were happy, and preferably safe, that was all that mattered. With Avon, at least for now, he was both.

It was all that mattered.