Fic for Valentine's Day
Feb. 14th, 2009 12:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mylodonH and A, the original and best. Set in about 1819.
“Remember this?” Horatio lovingly unwraps the tissue from the hat, brushes the nap gently with his sleeve.
“Good God,” Archie smiles affectionately. “You’ve still got that old thing? I’m surprised the moths haven’t devoured it.”
“I’d never rid myself of it, even if it were riddled with holes.” Horatio twirled the hat round, caressing the brim.
“How long is it since it’s seen the light of day?”
“Can’t you remember? Five years, to the day, almost to the very hour.”
“Ah.” Archie’s face flushes slightly in remembrance. “Admiral Hornblower wants to lose some of his lace and play at being a plain lieutenant again? Of course, you weren’t an admiral last time we indulged.”
“No. We were of the same rank, so you were allowed to be the lieutenant and I had to don both hat and flashes and be the one at the bridge.”
“That four poster bed made a remarkably good bridge, I remember that extremely well. And such a pep talk I gave you.” Archie gently takes the hat, places it on Horatio’s salt and pepper curls. “Much more understanding than the one you gave me, in the original setting.”
“It was my duty, Archie. And it was successful; for all that you’ve mocked me these last twenty years about how harsh I was. You went to that bridge a frightened boy, yet you came away a man.”
“I became a man – we both became men – a few days later, I seem to recall.”
“Ah.” It is Horatio’s turn to flush now, redder than anyone could ever imagine an admiral becoming, except if he were ascending the rigging.
“So you’ve not forgotten that first time? Portsmouth, leave, a bottle of claret and only so little room at the inn that we had to share a bed.”
“How could I forget that night? How could any man forget his first time?” Horatio’s face is aflame, cooled by the swift touch of Archie’s hand drawn down it.
“I will never forget. Though I may grow old, toothless, incontinent, senile, I will recall every moment of that night, from first kiss to last favours.” Archie smiles again, caresses the hat. “Horatio, I have a confession to make. About the bridge.”
“Yes?” Hornblower’s voice is dreamy, as if at least part of him is back at the inn, looking out over a waking sea, his lover – his beautiful, satisfied lover – still asleep in bed and only his memories to keep him waking company. Memories of that night have walked with him ever since.
“Would you be terribly hurt if I said that it wasn’t what you said that galvanised me that day? It was more the way you said it.”
Hornblower’s attention has been dragged back to the present, to a lover still as beautiful, if more wrinkled. “Did you recognise in me, even then, the air of authority?” He grins, takes the hat to place it on Archie’s silvered hair.
“Ah, not so much that.” Archie puts his hand to Horatio’s cheek, gently strokes it. “You see, Horatio, I’d been in such awe of you. You seemed such a natural leader, so talented, I was jealous.”
“So you told me, back in Ferrol.”
“I should have told you that I loved you, as well, back then. But I couldn’t. You were such a shining star, so correct in all that you did and I felt such a failure.”
“Sh.” Horatio places his hands on Archie’s face, looks deeply into those perfect blue eyes. “Don’t say such things. You’re wrong.” He kisses his lover, warmly. “Except about confessing our love. Such times we could have had in Spain, if we’d known.”
“I don’t suppose I’d have had the nerve. I had to see,” Archie blushes, casts down his eyes, “your feet of clay. When we went to France, you were running around like a headless chicken and being about as useful. When I panicked and you came to talk to me, well – I hope you won’t take this amiss - but I’d never heard such pompous twaddle in all my life.”
“What?” Horatio’s hands slide from his lover’s face, are caught by Archie’s strong grip in their fall.
“Please don’t take this amiss, I was really heartened. I thought He’s no different to me inside. Confused and putting a brave face on it. Helped me buck my ideas up no end.” Archie smiles, lifts Horatio’s hands to kiss his knuckles. “Gave me the courage to tell you how much I loved you, too. Perfect all round.”
“I think,” Horatio is working hard to regain his composure in light of this revelation, “that I should punish you by putting that hat away. No panic at the bridge for you.”
“Now don’t be such a spoil sport. I’ll be the acting lieutenant and you can be all dominant and stern. You can even,” Archie puts his lips to Horatio’s ear, whispers something so naughty it can make an admiral blush again, “if you like.”
“If I like?” Horatio’s eyebrows have disappeared into his salt and pepper curls. “If that’s on the watch bill then we’ll have your coat from Ferrol, too. And those half boots.”
“Oh they went to the moths years ago, Horatio.” Archie pulls the admiral close, begins to fiddle with strings and buttons. “Let’s make some new memories to replace them.”
“Remember this?” Horatio lovingly unwraps the tissue from the hat, brushes the nap gently with his sleeve.
“Good God,” Archie smiles affectionately. “You’ve still got that old thing? I’m surprised the moths haven’t devoured it.”
“I’d never rid myself of it, even if it were riddled with holes.” Horatio twirled the hat round, caressing the brim.
“How long is it since it’s seen the light of day?”
“Can’t you remember? Five years, to the day, almost to the very hour.”
“Ah.” Archie’s face flushes slightly in remembrance. “Admiral Hornblower wants to lose some of his lace and play at being a plain lieutenant again? Of course, you weren’t an admiral last time we indulged.”
“No. We were of the same rank, so you were allowed to be the lieutenant and I had to don both hat and flashes and be the one at the bridge.”
“That four poster bed made a remarkably good bridge, I remember that extremely well. And such a pep talk I gave you.” Archie gently takes the hat, places it on Horatio’s salt and pepper curls. “Much more understanding than the one you gave me, in the original setting.”
“It was my duty, Archie. And it was successful; for all that you’ve mocked me these last twenty years about how harsh I was. You went to that bridge a frightened boy, yet you came away a man.”
“I became a man – we both became men – a few days later, I seem to recall.”
“Ah.” It is Horatio’s turn to flush now, redder than anyone could ever imagine an admiral becoming, except if he were ascending the rigging.
“So you’ve not forgotten that first time? Portsmouth, leave, a bottle of claret and only so little room at the inn that we had to share a bed.”
“How could I forget that night? How could any man forget his first time?” Horatio’s face is aflame, cooled by the swift touch of Archie’s hand drawn down it.
“I will never forget. Though I may grow old, toothless, incontinent, senile, I will recall every moment of that night, from first kiss to last favours.” Archie smiles again, caresses the hat. “Horatio, I have a confession to make. About the bridge.”
“Yes?” Hornblower’s voice is dreamy, as if at least part of him is back at the inn, looking out over a waking sea, his lover – his beautiful, satisfied lover – still asleep in bed and only his memories to keep him waking company. Memories of that night have walked with him ever since.
“Would you be terribly hurt if I said that it wasn’t what you said that galvanised me that day? It was more the way you said it.”
Hornblower’s attention has been dragged back to the present, to a lover still as beautiful, if more wrinkled. “Did you recognise in me, even then, the air of authority?” He grins, takes the hat to place it on Archie’s silvered hair.
“Ah, not so much that.” Archie puts his hand to Horatio’s cheek, gently strokes it. “You see, Horatio, I’d been in such awe of you. You seemed such a natural leader, so talented, I was jealous.”
“So you told me, back in Ferrol.”
“I should have told you that I loved you, as well, back then. But I couldn’t. You were such a shining star, so correct in all that you did and I felt such a failure.”
“Sh.” Horatio places his hands on Archie’s face, looks deeply into those perfect blue eyes. “Don’t say such things. You’re wrong.” He kisses his lover, warmly. “Except about confessing our love. Such times we could have had in Spain, if we’d known.”
“I don’t suppose I’d have had the nerve. I had to see,” Archie blushes, casts down his eyes, “your feet of clay. When we went to France, you were running around like a headless chicken and being about as useful. When I panicked and you came to talk to me, well – I hope you won’t take this amiss - but I’d never heard such pompous twaddle in all my life.”
“What?” Horatio’s hands slide from his lover’s face, are caught by Archie’s strong grip in their fall.
“Please don’t take this amiss, I was really heartened. I thought He’s no different to me inside. Confused and putting a brave face on it. Helped me buck my ideas up no end.” Archie smiles, lifts Horatio’s hands to kiss his knuckles. “Gave me the courage to tell you how much I loved you, too. Perfect all round.”
“I think,” Horatio is working hard to regain his composure in light of this revelation, “that I should punish you by putting that hat away. No panic at the bridge for you.”
“Now don’t be such a spoil sport. I’ll be the acting lieutenant and you can be all dominant and stern. You can even,” Archie puts his lips to Horatio’s ear, whispers something so naughty it can make an admiral blush again, “if you like.”
“If I like?” Horatio’s eyebrows have disappeared into his salt and pepper curls. “If that’s on the watch bill then we’ll have your coat from Ferrol, too. And those half boots.”
“Oh they went to the moths years ago, Horatio.” Archie pulls the admiral close, begins to fiddle with strings and buttons. “Let’s make some new memories to replace them.”
