Red Devil part 8
Nov. 23rd, 2011 10:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mylodonUsual disclaimers apply. H/A AU, not my characters, wish they were.
“She’s a beauty.” They hadn’t even got on the ship – they’d only progressed as far as the well ordered, well patrolled queue - yet Archie had kept up a stream of conversation about her, from the moment he’d hopped off the bus and bounced up to Horatio. It had been the injection of energy the day had needed, Archie’s smiling face capable of lifting anyone’s sagging or flagging spirits.
“She’d better be a stunner, given the build up she’s had from you.” Age of sail ships – another of his father’s passions, not really shared by the son even though he’d been given plenty of encouragement as a boy. “I used to sail a little frigate on the local pond. When I was a child.”
“And there was me thinking you’d only sailed it last week.” Archie cuffed his new friend’s shoulder.
“Do you come out here often?” They shuffled further along the queue as another tour party was taken off to be shown off to by a young, bright eyed cadet, clearly bursting with pride in his job.
“Only when I have an excuse. Visiting family, or a new kid in town.” Archie grinned. “Think of me as your official guide to the city. To the state. I’ll look after you.”
“I’ll take you up on that, but only if you can guarantee that all the sites are up to the quality of this one. The last two days have been...interesting.”
Discussion of the best and worst of what Boston had to offer kept them going until their turn came to tread the hallowed timbers and then even Archie – garrulous Archie – fell silent at the sheer majesty of the vessel. All he managed was a whispered, awe struck, “She oozes history. Can’t you feel it?” as they were taken around her.
The sense of wonder – and the stream of “Did you see?” and “What did you think of?” – lasted until they’d left the dockyard, en route for somewhere to wet their whistles. As Archie pointed out, the sun was well over the yardarm, so beer was in order, to be drunk in the sunshine by the waterside.
“Do you miss home?” Horatio regretted asking the question as soon as it was out of his mouth. There’d been something in Archie’s reaction, a brief almost imperceptible flinch, to suggest he’d hit on something painful.
“I do, but I’ve made this academic bed and I have to lie in it. Sometimes there are choices we have to make.” Archie studied his beer.
Horatio waited before replying. To change the subject so abruptly would be to advertise the fact he’d realised something was wrong, but to pursue it risked putting Archie’s back up. Which was hardly the right way forward when there was clearly every chance of a holiday romance. Not even Horatio could misread the glances held just too long, the small contacts of hand on arm, the narrowing of the space between them.
“You’ve made plenty of friends here?” he asked, after a draught of beer. Archie’s remark about “using the company” still buzzed in his brain. How could a guy like this ever lack a network of associates? Unless he was on the rebound, of course, which might explain the speed at which he’d been picked up.
“Plenty.” Archie looked rueful. “More than anyone could want or need. Not the same as...” he stopped in mid flow, shrugged and took another mouthful of beer. “Right, this isn’t getting your sightseeing done. Where next?”
Horatio took his courage – not a small item, and often exercised in the cause of social interaction – in both hands. “Here. Would it be too much of a pain just to sit over a couple of beers and watch the boats?”
Archie stared at his beer, then looked up, smiling. “I think that might be the best idea I’ve heard in a long time.”
“She’s a beauty.” They hadn’t even got on the ship – they’d only progressed as far as the well ordered, well patrolled queue - yet Archie had kept up a stream of conversation about her, from the moment he’d hopped off the bus and bounced up to Horatio. It had been the injection of energy the day had needed, Archie’s smiling face capable of lifting anyone’s sagging or flagging spirits.
“She’d better be a stunner, given the build up she’s had from you.” Age of sail ships – another of his father’s passions, not really shared by the son even though he’d been given plenty of encouragement as a boy. “I used to sail a little frigate on the local pond. When I was a child.”
“And there was me thinking you’d only sailed it last week.” Archie cuffed his new friend’s shoulder.
“Do you come out here often?” They shuffled further along the queue as another tour party was taken off to be shown off to by a young, bright eyed cadet, clearly bursting with pride in his job.
“Only when I have an excuse. Visiting family, or a new kid in town.” Archie grinned. “Think of me as your official guide to the city. To the state. I’ll look after you.”
“I’ll take you up on that, but only if you can guarantee that all the sites are up to the quality of this one. The last two days have been...interesting.”
Discussion of the best and worst of what Boston had to offer kept them going until their turn came to tread the hallowed timbers and then even Archie – garrulous Archie – fell silent at the sheer majesty of the vessel. All he managed was a whispered, awe struck, “She oozes history. Can’t you feel it?” as they were taken around her.
The sense of wonder – and the stream of “Did you see?” and “What did you think of?” – lasted until they’d left the dockyard, en route for somewhere to wet their whistles. As Archie pointed out, the sun was well over the yardarm, so beer was in order, to be drunk in the sunshine by the waterside.
“Do you miss home?” Horatio regretted asking the question as soon as it was out of his mouth. There’d been something in Archie’s reaction, a brief almost imperceptible flinch, to suggest he’d hit on something painful.
“I do, but I’ve made this academic bed and I have to lie in it. Sometimes there are choices we have to make.” Archie studied his beer.
Horatio waited before replying. To change the subject so abruptly would be to advertise the fact he’d realised something was wrong, but to pursue it risked putting Archie’s back up. Which was hardly the right way forward when there was clearly every chance of a holiday romance. Not even Horatio could misread the glances held just too long, the small contacts of hand on arm, the narrowing of the space between them.
“You’ve made plenty of friends here?” he asked, after a draught of beer. Archie’s remark about “using the company” still buzzed in his brain. How could a guy like this ever lack a network of associates? Unless he was on the rebound, of course, which might explain the speed at which he’d been picked up.
“Plenty.” Archie looked rueful. “More than anyone could want or need. Not the same as...” he stopped in mid flow, shrugged and took another mouthful of beer. “Right, this isn’t getting your sightseeing done. Where next?”
Horatio took his courage – not a small item, and often exercised in the cause of social interaction – in both hands. “Here. Would it be too much of a pain just to sit over a couple of beers and watch the boats?”
Archie stared at his beer, then looked up, smiling. “I think that might be the best idea I’ve heard in a long time.”
