*Why do I show myself in public with him, again?*

The thought is immediately followed by a loud holler, prompting Lincoln to sprint in the direction of what can only be Will causing more trouble.

Sure enough, as soon as he rounds the street corner his eyes are drawn to the teaming mob of onlookers gathered around two bodies rolling and tumbling about. It takes a minute to identify Will as both men are covered in a mix of muddy snow and blood, but when one man’s hat is torn off Lincoln recognized with disappointment, but not surprise, that he is indeed Will. Lincoln stands on the edge of the crowd to wait for Will, half considering leaving the other man to find his own way home and maybe, just maybe, become a little more of a damn adult. A final heavy thud marks the end of the fight and Lincoln shoves his way through the crowd to retrieve Will. He knows, without looking, who he will find lying on the ground. It sure as hell won’t be Will. If there’s one thing to know about Will, it’s that once he starts a fight, he doesn’t end it till he’s won, or till he’s too damn unconscious to care. Lincoln cast a pitying glance to the poor fool on the ground as he sidesteps around him. He’d never been in that position before--Will had never fought him in earnest-- but he’d witnessed it enough to know that it was gonna leave more than just his ego aching. He roughly grabs Will’s arm and yanks him away from the slowly dispersing crowd.

“I leave you alone for ten, scratch that, for FIVE, minutes and I turn around to find you hashing it out with some stranger on the ground! We’re not twelve anymore, there are some things that you just need to use your head for, Will!” Lincoln bites out between pants, “And I don’t mean hitting the damn guy with it! That’s gonna leave a great bruise by the way, Will, nice job on that. I hope it swells up and you get a right awful knot on your forehead.”

“Aw, Lincoln, you’d think you were my mother, going on like that! Give me a break, it’s my second day back! I need some excitement!” he shoots back, that devil grin creeping onto his face.

“Exactly! It’s your second day back! Try to ease into things! AUGH! I don’t know why I even try with you sometimes!”

“Lincoln, easing into something is all I can think of right now, don’t tempt me…”

Lincoln is once again left speechless and flustered, trying madly to turn down the blush lighting up his face.

“Will! What are you talking about?! Please try to think before you just throw that out there!”

Will’s turns to face Lincoln from his stance a few feet ahead of the man, his face the epitome of innocence.

“I have positively no idea what rakish thoughts you are having right now, Lincoln.” Will said, a mock expression of dignity clashed with the unerasable trace of humor and sly teasing.

The two stare at each other in silence for a minute, and Lincoln is comforted by how easily they lapse back into their familiar bantering. A wry grin grows on Will’s face, so aggressively worn that one could mistake it as a baring of teeth were it not for the gleam of excitement leaping out of his eyes. Will’s eyes stayed latched onto Lincoln’s as he leant down into a crouch. Faster than Lincoln could realize the man’s intent, a white orb was hurtling through the air, colliding with its target with perfect accuracy. Lincoln shivered as the snow melted and slipped beneath the collar of his shirt. His head slowly tilted upwards to meet Will’s gaze, and the promise of death was chillingly evident. His stunned expression morphed into one of amused disbelief. Leaning down to scoop up the icy sludge, he crooned out a calm threat.

“You just dug your grave Will…”