mylodon: (archie grating)
Horatio and Archie through time and AUs. All the usual disclaimers apply.

The Channel, 1799

“Your birthday seems to come round with startling frequency.”

Horatio tries to smile but weariness defeats him. They beat to quarters at three bells in the forenoon watch; the engagement ended in the second dog watch and he is dog tired.

Archie—how can he still be so sprightly?—rubs Horatio’s shoulder. “At least Bracegirdle gets to take the prize in and you can get some rest.”

“I think a few hours in my cot would be the best present I could hope for.” Horatio’s eyes are already closed as he whispers, “As we can’t spend a few hours in yours.” He feels something pressed into his hand and forces his eyes apart to see a little packet.

“Open it.” Archie’s lips are by his ear.

Horatio pulls the tissue away to reveal a silver shoe buckle, small but perfectly formed, as Archie is small but perfectly formed.

“You’ll get the matching one once we make port.” Those lips are touching his brow now. “Once we’ve seen action there,” they murmur, and Archie draws away.

France 1918

“Your birthday seems to come round with startling frequency.”

Horatio tries to smile but weariness defeats him. Their platoons have been out for thirty six hours, fighting a desperate rearguard action in defence of land they took in 1915—will this senseless war never resolve itself? “I’m only glad to have survived to see another one.” Horatio corrects himself and this time he can force a smile out. “I’m glad we’ve both survived.”

“Please God we’ll make another. And please God we’ll celebrate it in Blighty.” Archie puts a hand under his pillow, fetching out a brown paper parcel. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you.” Their hands touch—briefly, lovingly—as the gift is exchanged. “Oh, thank you.” It’s two pairs of socks; warm, dry, silken woollen socks, smelling of home and comfort—and Archie’s mother’s scent as the Countess herself has knit them. “I’ll wear them when I wake.”

Archie smiles, raising his mug of tea to toast the day. “Next year in England.”

Horatio raises his mug in return but doesn’t repeat the words. He’s seen too many men tempt fate.

Hampshire, 2010

“Your birthday seems to come round with startling frequency.”

Horatio tries to smile but weariness defeats him. The power went down at the refinery forty eight hours ago and he’s worked almost every one of them, nursing his precious computer systems through the crisis. Not a processor he doesn’t know and love, but not as much as he loves Archie.

“Are you like the Queen and have two a year?” Archie has fed him, bathed him and put him to bed with the cricket on the radio to lull him to sleep. “Will I leave your presents until tomorrow?”

“I have more than one?” Horatio’s voice is thick with the need for sleep. “Maybe just the one now.”

Archie has it ready to hand, a small box which he has to help his lover to open, so tired is he.

“It’s beautiful.” It is. An original Napoleonic war sextant, to grace Horatio’s desk here at home. “I’ve always wanted one.”

“I know.” Archie reaches for the bedside light and switches it off, the heavy curtains leaving the room unnaturally dark for an afternoon. “Sleep now.”

Horatio turns, finding his favoured position. “The other in the morning?”

“The other whenever you’re ready.” Archie kisses him full on the lips and Horatio goes to sleep smiling, well aware of what his other present will be.


Nov. 30th, 2008 09:23 pm
mylodon: (Default)
Why is it that almost everything I watch, read or write at the moment alludes to The Great War?

Inspired by 'Einstein and Eddington' and David Tennant's wonderfully understated performance.

Did you ever wonder, as the train pulled out, why I wasn't there? Did it occur to you that I'd been delayed, having to play my polite part once more, unable to find the words to break away? Unable to finds the words. Again.

Did you think of me? As I thought of you, every hour of every day, the golden sun on mellow stone turning into grey light on muddy fields. Every mile I rode I had you at my side; was I at yours, each mile you marched towards Ypres? Did you at least remember your watch, if not the keeper, and wonder if it marked the same long hours? Hours I wasted while they still counted for something.

Do you know? Even if I didn't have the nerve to tell you then, under green trees and fair English skies? Have you too looked and seen God thinking and did his thoughts at last reveal mine to you? And has he kept you safe, as your country could not keep you? For me?
mylodon: (jonny 1940's)
Thanks to all of you who voted in the poll. I decided that I needed to do a serious version (to follow) and a daft one, in which Horatio gets whacked. (What does it say about this fandom that so many people wanted Hornblower walloped?) Not quite the 17 whacks as requested by [ profile] calavarna, but as many as were possible within the bounds of decency.

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mylodon: (winged victory)
The final part of the fix it.

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mylodon: (sacre coeur)
I had a number of requests for a fix-it for the Arromanches story. This is part the first. H/A AU of AU.

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mylodon: (Default)
Stolen by the perfidious Ms Cochrane.
mylodon: (archie)
Title: Five AUs I will never write
Pairing: H/A
Rating: PG
Notes: I had to add an extra AU when I decided that I could write one of the scenarios I’d come up with.
I don't own these characters but they are great fun to play with.

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mylodon: (Default)
Title: The man who made me feel fifteen again.
Fandom: Hornblower
Character: Archie Kennedy
Spoilers: All the Hornblower series of films
Notes: An essay produced for [ profile] idol_reflection (I must stop volunteering for things). By a strange coincidence it must be about a year since I first caught sight of Kennedy. Happy day!

The man who made me feel fifteen again.
mylodon: (Default)
This is for the Ioan ficathon.

Author: Mylodon
Pairing: John Gray/OMC
Rating: PG
Recipient: Widget (and a happy belated birthday!)
Summary: Like a twit I opted to write John Gray (prompt 'mementoes') rather then the safe option of H/A. I researched Gray's life and found he eventually ended up as a Catholic priest; this resulting story is set post Gray's initial conversion to Catholicism in the early 1890's. Thanks to [ profile] just_jac7 for the beta.
Notes: No claim made on or profit made from these characters.

The Carpenter's Gift
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