for minor things. still <3ing caspian and arthur. why have we not written more caspian earlier?! oh right, because we get easily distracted by the shiny of peter/susan.


"i'm not getting involved in a mafia vendetta," arthur bursts out after caspian explains the situation.

why does everyone keep saying that? oh wait, caspian knows perfect well why everyone says that. "that's what i said," he mutters.

"don't touch my booze," arthur snaps when caspian goes to refill his glass.

caspian raises his eyebrows. "i'll get you back. you want me to get YOU a drink?"

"are you really offering me my own alcohol?"

and for a few seconds, the argument is so familiar and comfortable that caspian cracks a grin, flashes back to the old days when the worst thing they had to worry about was getting the right internship and buying the right suit, and where the party was that weekend.

arthur chuckles to himself. "god, you haven't changed at all."

caspian hands arthur a glass of scotch. "that's what i've been trying to say, asshole."

"hey hey hey," arthur cuts in, holding up his hand, "you don't get to break into MY apartment and drink MY alcohol and call ME an asshole."

"dude," says caspian, "i just did."

arthur rolls his eyes. "caspian--"

"so the deal--"

"the deal is that there is no deal!" arthur exclaims. "tough luck for edward pevensie--"

"edmund."

"whatever, tough luck for that guy, but the foundation is not going to go down because their VP was caught red-handed making bad decisions."

caspian looks at him with what he hopes are dead-serious eyes. "you won't get caught."

"you can't guarantee that!"

"i thought you wanted to help people!"

"i AM," arthur snaps. "what the hell do you think i'm doing being the VP of a philanthropic organization? i don't just sit on my ass. a lot of people depend on us. we stock food banks and run shelters. we are mouthpieces for urban environmentalism and organic--"

"save it," caspian cuts in irritably. "just, save it. okay first of all, you wouldn't be the VP if your father weren't the president, and second of all, as a fucking vice president, you're not stacking cans at the pantry downtown. you're not the one with an apron on in the soup kitchen. what the fuck do you do? you shmooze at black-tie fundraisers while nibbling on caviar and finagling the guilt-ridden nouveau riche out of their money, hoping to god that this time uther will notice."

arthur glares at him. "look--"

"i may have daddy issues," caspian continues, "but i'm not the only one with daddy issues, is all i'm saying."

this is not going the way caspian had imagined at all. arthur looks like maybe he wants to take caspian's head off, or at least give it a good kick. caspian is grateful for whatever is holding him back, because he has seen arthur hold his own in a fight. after the fight, caspian had commented, rather intelligently, "dude," and arthur just said in an irritated voice, "what? he was tooling up on my sister." (in the end, morgana called arthur an interfering dickcase, arthur called her something worse, and everyone went home angry. arthur took it out on caspian for two days. arthur and morgana, they have a whole 'nother set of issues going on.)

"for all your claiming that you were too smart to cheat in school," arthur says icily, "you're making some horrendously stupid decisions. it's all going to end in hell."

caspian shrugs. "it's the right thing to do." arthur looks away. caspian adds, "they're my friends. i owe it to them." when arthur still doesn't say anything, caspian adds, "and you still owe me from the time you puked on my playstation."