Red Devil part 12
Dec. 3rd, 2011 09:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mylodonH/A, AU, modern, usual disclaimers.
Horatio lay in bed, looking at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of the city, unable to sleep.
The diving expedition had been...a revelation. He felt he’d held his end up well, a bit rusty maybe but soon back into the swing of things. He was no slouch in the water and he’d never have anticipated that Archie would so outdo him. The man had been a natural in the water, although slightly self-conscious about it. As if afraid to look like a show off.
In his wildest dreams, Horatio couldn’t have anticipated such a wonderful start to a holiday which had been taken reluctantly at best. If you hadn’t come here you’d have passed up one of the best chances life’s ever given you.
It had been a splendid day, although most of the time had been spent looking for crustaceans and – what was the word, coppypods something like that – which Archie said were the natural prey for squid. Part of his thesis was about comparing what was eaten off by squid off this coast with what the Humboldt’s fed on over on the west. Next year he’d be relocating to California so he could study the things up close, or something like that. Horatio had been too distracted by Archie’s muscular frame squeezed into its diving suit to really take a lot of notice.
He’d just thanked his lucky stars that he’d come here this summer and had the foresight to go that bloody aquarium.
There’d been one small cloud on a glorious, blue skied day, which had been prompted by some seemingly innocent remark, by the student – Styles – who’d accompanied them, about how giant squid seemed to be one of nature’s design failures.
“Their brain surrounds their intestine, like a donut around a tube. Isn’t that stupid, Horatio? Like if they bit of more than they could chew, it’d be like committing suicide!”
“Belay that, Styles,” Archie had snapped, looking up from checking his diving equipment. “It’s a shame you don’t have enough brain to go round your little finger, let alone your gut.”
Horatio realised he’d never seen Archie cross about anything before. Snarky, yes, but never downright angry. Maybe he’d become proprietorial and thought Styles was flirting. The thought of two men fighting over him was vaguely exciting. And not a problem Horatio had ever had before. He’d swallowed hard, prepared to try and defuse things, but the insult had been water off a duck’s back to Styles. The awkward moment had passed, leaving just a little nagging doubt about what exactly was going on. Those doubts remained, driving away Horatio’s sleep.
He wasn’t going to see Archie for a few days. The guy had University commitments, and he’d booked a hire car, to go exploring down along the south shore, to Plymouth and beyond. He’d be back on Thursday to see the Shakespeare in the park – Much Ado about Nothing – and it was just a shame he wasn’t returning to a sojourn in Archie’s bed and much ado about quite a lot. If only he could persuade the bloke to come out to Provincetown on Friday night for a weekend, dirty or squeaky clean, but Archie was still playing hard to get about it, even if his goodbye kisses this evening, shared on the dance floor of a gay bar, had suggested “hard to get” was the last thing he was wanting to play, where Horatio was generally concerned.
Shame Horatio had been too knackered at the time to take advantage of things. Still, by the time they got to Friday, his jetlag would be all gone and any residual aches and pains from the diving would be simply a memory. According to all he’d heard and read, Provincetown would work the oracle. If only he could get Archie there.
Horatio lay in bed, looking at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of the city, unable to sleep.
The diving expedition had been...a revelation. He felt he’d held his end up well, a bit rusty maybe but soon back into the swing of things. He was no slouch in the water and he’d never have anticipated that Archie would so outdo him. The man had been a natural in the water, although slightly self-conscious about it. As if afraid to look like a show off.
In his wildest dreams, Horatio couldn’t have anticipated such a wonderful start to a holiday which had been taken reluctantly at best. If you hadn’t come here you’d have passed up one of the best chances life’s ever given you.
It had been a splendid day, although most of the time had been spent looking for crustaceans and – what was the word, coppypods something like that – which Archie said were the natural prey for squid. Part of his thesis was about comparing what was eaten off by squid off this coast with what the Humboldt’s fed on over on the west. Next year he’d be relocating to California so he could study the things up close, or something like that. Horatio had been too distracted by Archie’s muscular frame squeezed into its diving suit to really take a lot of notice.
He’d just thanked his lucky stars that he’d come here this summer and had the foresight to go that bloody aquarium.
There’d been one small cloud on a glorious, blue skied day, which had been prompted by some seemingly innocent remark, by the student – Styles – who’d accompanied them, about how giant squid seemed to be one of nature’s design failures.
“Their brain surrounds their intestine, like a donut around a tube. Isn’t that stupid, Horatio? Like if they bit of more than they could chew, it’d be like committing suicide!”
“Belay that, Styles,” Archie had snapped, looking up from checking his diving equipment. “It’s a shame you don’t have enough brain to go round your little finger, let alone your gut.”
Horatio realised he’d never seen Archie cross about anything before. Snarky, yes, but never downright angry. Maybe he’d become proprietorial and thought Styles was flirting. The thought of two men fighting over him was vaguely exciting. And not a problem Horatio had ever had before. He’d swallowed hard, prepared to try and defuse things, but the insult had been water off a duck’s back to Styles. The awkward moment had passed, leaving just a little nagging doubt about what exactly was going on. Those doubts remained, driving away Horatio’s sleep.
He wasn’t going to see Archie for a few days. The guy had University commitments, and he’d booked a hire car, to go exploring down along the south shore, to Plymouth and beyond. He’d be back on Thursday to see the Shakespeare in the park – Much Ado about Nothing – and it was just a shame he wasn’t returning to a sojourn in Archie’s bed and much ado about quite a lot. If only he could persuade the bloke to come out to Provincetown on Friday night for a weekend, dirty or squeaky clean, but Archie was still playing hard to get about it, even if his goodbye kisses this evening, shared on the dance floor of a gay bar, had suggested “hard to get” was the last thing he was wanting to play, where Horatio was generally concerned.
Shame Horatio had been too knackered at the time to take advantage of things. Still, by the time they got to Friday, his jetlag would be all gone and any residual aches and pains from the diving would be simply a memory. According to all he’d heard and read, Provincetown would work the oracle. If only he could get Archie there.
