Red Devil part 11
Nov. 29th, 2011 12:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mylodonSo, when I started writing this story, it was supposed to be crack fic based on this really silly concept. And from the very start, the story (and the characters in it) had their own ideas. They wanted to be serious and a bit dark and I had no idea what was happening, which is one of the reasons the story stalled for so long. I think I know what's going on now. I think...
H/A AU, usual disclaimers apply.
It had been an interesting day. Horatio – he was just about getting used to that name, now he’d taught himself to think of it in its Shakespearean friend of the hero way – had proved to be less of a nerd than expected. He certainly didn’t kiss like one. No desperate eagerness and lack of skill. On the first kiss scale it was up there with the best of them.
Shame it brought back such memories; that had been the sort of side effect Archie hadn’t planned for, the sudden flood of recollection that hit him on the subway. If it had waited until he’d been at home he could have curled up and hugged himself like he’d done on dark days before. First kiss shared innocently in the woods, a nice looking lad from the year above him in school. He couldn’t even think of his Christian name now; maybe he’d never known it. He thought of the lad as Hartley major, as opposed to Hartley minor who’d been a snotty little oik in the lower school. Dear God, it seemed a lifetime away, a throwback to another age.
He’d sat watching the stations whizz past, trying to disconnect the recollection of Horatio’s wonderful kiss from the memories of his own past. The burgeoning of the seeds of sexuality, the change into adulthood and all that had brought. Being gay had turned out to be the least of it. Sometimes he wished he’d just been afflicted by something like epilepsy, even though that would have brought its own downsides– at least the condition had a degree of respectability (Julius Caesar and all that!) and there were treatments to control it. Modern medicine couldn’t work on everything.
Well, Horatio need never find out about any of that and what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. And Archie wouldn’t have to be hurt by someone else running a mile. You mustn’t fall for him. You know that. You said you’d leave complications, commitment, behind. For everybody’s sake.
Walking back to his flat, he kept trying to persuade himself that this would just be a fling, a nice fortnight – avoiding next weekend – in which he could see how close to Horatio’s bed he’d get. Right in it, given the bloke’s physical reactions, earlier.
The incoming message tone on his phone brought him back from the depths of thought. Horatio – of course – saying he’d seen something about an event on at Provincetown next weekend and did he fancy making a few days break of it? Next weekend? Why did fate seem to be teasing him? His reply was simple, non-committal. “I’ll let you know. May be double booked. See you tomorrow. Hugs. Archie.” He’d have to have a better excuse ready for when they next met.
And that feeling of falling in love, the one he’d experienced when Horatio smiled? That could go screw itself. Love was a complication he couldn’t afford.
H/A AU, usual disclaimers apply.
It had been an interesting day. Horatio – he was just about getting used to that name, now he’d taught himself to think of it in its Shakespearean friend of the hero way – had proved to be less of a nerd than expected. He certainly didn’t kiss like one. No desperate eagerness and lack of skill. On the first kiss scale it was up there with the best of them.
Shame it brought back such memories; that had been the sort of side effect Archie hadn’t planned for, the sudden flood of recollection that hit him on the subway. If it had waited until he’d been at home he could have curled up and hugged himself like he’d done on dark days before. First kiss shared innocently in the woods, a nice looking lad from the year above him in school. He couldn’t even think of his Christian name now; maybe he’d never known it. He thought of the lad as Hartley major, as opposed to Hartley minor who’d been a snotty little oik in the lower school. Dear God, it seemed a lifetime away, a throwback to another age.
He’d sat watching the stations whizz past, trying to disconnect the recollection of Horatio’s wonderful kiss from the memories of his own past. The burgeoning of the seeds of sexuality, the change into adulthood and all that had brought. Being gay had turned out to be the least of it. Sometimes he wished he’d just been afflicted by something like epilepsy, even though that would have brought its own downsides– at least the condition had a degree of respectability (Julius Caesar and all that!) and there were treatments to control it. Modern medicine couldn’t work on everything.
Well, Horatio need never find out about any of that and what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. And Archie wouldn’t have to be hurt by someone else running a mile. You mustn’t fall for him. You know that. You said you’d leave complications, commitment, behind. For everybody’s sake.
Walking back to his flat, he kept trying to persuade himself that this would just be a fling, a nice fortnight – avoiding next weekend – in which he could see how close to Horatio’s bed he’d get. Right in it, given the bloke’s physical reactions, earlier.
The incoming message tone on his phone brought him back from the depths of thought. Horatio – of course – saying he’d seen something about an event on at Provincetown next weekend and did he fancy making a few days break of it? Next weekend? Why did fate seem to be teasing him? His reply was simple, non-committal. “I’ll let you know. May be double booked. See you tomorrow. Hugs. Archie.” He’d have to have a better excuse ready for when they next met.
And that feeling of falling in love, the one he’d experienced when Horatio smiled? That could go screw itself. Love was a complication he couldn’t afford.
