This Is So Funny To Me Since In The Percilot Fandom It's Usually James Who Tries To Convince His Boyfriend

This is so funny to me since in the Percilot fandom it's usually James who tries to convince his boyfriend to do a terrible idea with him.

James and James are like two totally opposite twin brothers with the same name, stuck in a different timeline with totally opposite boyfriends.

Family dinners must be fun...

POV: you’re trying to convince your boyfriend to do a terrible idea with you

The way he’s so pretty under the moonlight

For everyone wondering what I've been doing....

I'm procrastinating on art by doing art ._.

Yep

Bye-

He shouldn't have let Alistair's concerns bother him, this was his chance. Finally he'd show everyone that he was just as good an agent as Harry. That he wasn't just there by default. Then perhaps the whispers, the snide remarks and judging looks would all stop.

Of course, Ali insisted it was all in his head. That no one saw him as unworthy of his place, but he didn't see the way Harry looked at him. With all that…regret.

Yeah, well Harry only had himself to blame, didn't he. If he'd done his job properly, then Lee would have survived.

But if Lee hasn't sacrificed himself to save them all, would he be Lancelot now? James didn't know, and that was the worst part.

All through training, he and Lee had been rivals, but also friends. Unlike the other recruits, Lee Unwin had been a genuinely decent man. From the moment they'd shaken hands, James had liked him, but also envied him. He was so confident, friendly, and handsome.

And he had far better motivation to succeed. Needing to prove he wasn't the useless sod his family believed him to be, paled in comparison to Lee wanting to provide a better life for his wife and small child.

So, yes, deep down, James knew who would be sitting at that table had Harry fucking Hart done his bloody job.

Pulling up to the shop, James stepped out of the cab and jogged up the marble steps. The place was dark, still hours away from opening, but he knew it wasn't empty. He pressed the buzzer and waited. A second later the latch disconnected and he strolled inside.

"Good morning, Sir" The young security guard greeted with surprise. It was barely morning, if they were both honest. Dawn was still hours away, but James was on a deadline.

"William." James nodded with as bright a smile as he could manage at 3am and headed for the armoury.

As he stepped into the large room hidden behind one of the fitting room walls, he replayed his conversation with Alistair. The tired desperate way he'd pleaded for him not to leave.

I have a bad feeling about this.

James' stomach twisted and a shiver went through him, as he reached for a weapon. The thing was, Ali had never been wrong. He had an almost sixth sense for trouble. He'd teased him countless times about it. His own personal Peter Parker, James had joked every time the man saved their lives.

So listen to him now.

<< PREV

He'd been sitting at the desk listening to his colleagues drone on for almost an hour now, barely taking it in. He should never have agreed to come to Paris while James was off god only knew where, doing god only knew what.

Since he'd woken in the middle of the night to find his partner getting dressed, he'd had this sinking feeling that no amount of reassurance from James could dispel.

When he'd arrived at the shop a few hours late he'd hoped, prayed, James had taken his concerns to heart and instead of fucking off to try and prove himself, he'd have simply gone to Arthur and given him all the information he'd obtained. But even as he'd stepped over that threshold, he'd known James' ridiculous obsession with outshining Harry would win through.

Of course, Alistair knew it wasn't about Harry, not really. It had always been about James' own insecurities. Deep down, he believed he wasn't good enough. That he was only there because Lee Unwin died. But more than that, there was guilt and shame.

I should have done it. I should have thrown myself on that grenade. James had said one dark night after a rough mission he'd barely survived. As he sat in Alistair's living room, half a bottle of tequila open in front of him. But I didn't react quick enough. Lee did. Lee saw it and he would have seen the trip wire too.

They'd started that night. Drink had led to comfort, which had led to almost a decade long relationship. And while James had generally become more confident in himself, there was always a part of him that couldn't quite let go of the fact that he was there instead of Lee.

Alistair had often wondered if Lee's death haunted James because he'd felt more than friendship for the man. He'd never asked, hadn't wanted to know, in all honesty, but he couldn't think of another explanation for why he was still so angry, or why he blamed Harry.

With a sigh, Alistair reached for his phone, glancing at the screen. Still no reply. He'd messaged James when he'd left Chester's office to tell him he was being sent to France. Then again when he'd arrived. He messaged when he got to his flat and then to the tailors shop in Paris. It had been almost an hour and he still hadn't heard anything.

And with each passing hour, his anxiety grew worse, gnawing away at his insides and leaving him unable to focus on anything but the increasing fear.

A knock on the office door drew his attention from his phone and a young woman smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, Percival, but Arthur is insisting on speaking to you."

Ice spread through him, its tendrils closing around his heart and squeezing tight.

"E-excuse me, ladies and gentleman." He stammered and waited in frozen hell for them to leave before slipping on his glasses.

"Percival." The old man said softly, "I'm afraid I have some news about Lancelot."

<<PREV

It's been a while since my last post.

For the past few weeks I've been having a writer block. I couldn't come up with anything.

So I turned to one of my hobbies, to spend my time on something, to do something more productive rather than sitting in front of an empty screen.

If yall wondering what I've been doing, this is it.

I've been making little James

His tattersalls shirt is the real pain in my back

I hate your husband's shirt

Burn them all, Percy