Early morning rays of light reaching through tall windows were fragmented by the figure of a tall, thin man slinking through the quiet halls on his trek from his room down towards the kitchen. Every floorboard that sank just so was carefully avoided as he navigated in hopeful silence. Theodore could not be entirely sure that his attempts at stealth were truly as hushed as he intended but men could dream. His heartbeat alone felt so heavy within his breast, he was sure that everyone in the building could hear it with the way it crashed against his ribs.
Yet, as he drew into the kitchen where the young scullery maid was scrubbing potatoes, it seemed none had even been aware of his presence by the way she startled. A finger to his lips and a small wink was the only communication between the two as he pulled down the cook's tattered and well-worn cloak to wrap about his shoulders on his way out the door.
His feet raced faster and faster across the earth as he took the servant's path out the back of his home to the boundary gate and onto the main road. Only once he was around the bend and out of view of home did he allow himself to slow, winded as he was from such a short jaunt. Theodore inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the dewy morning air and feeling for the briefest moment at peace. The hood of his borrowed cloak was pulled firmly up over his head filling his nose with the scent of onions and garlic that made his eyes burn for a moment until he got used to it.
Still, it was nice to be out. He wound his way into the market and among the carts as the sellers began their calls and bartering, not that he could hear it all of course. But he could see it; their open mouths and red faces, their hands flapping about with their wares, calling out to entice him. Theodore walked on and the market filled with people, colors, and smells. His stomach clenched with hunger as the scent fresh hot buns permeated the air. He smiled softly and waved away the baker, picking his way instead towards another sector of the market.
His head rocked side to side some in thought as quiet notes played in his head and music danced within his mind's eye. With nowhere specific to be, his head in the clouds, and a song in his heart, the man could not think of a better way to spend such a peaceful morning than among the hustle and bustle of the marketplace.
Fletcher ran.
He'd botched it. He'd meant to do this quick and efficient — get in, find the arsehole with the inventory, rough him up, find his source — but someone had tipped the man off. Now the little fucker was off and running on his own home turf, and with all the advantages that gave him. As the distance between him and his quarry widened, Fletch tore down the alley, cursing lungs blackened by decades of his last remaining vice.
The dealer burst into the sunlight and swung a hard left. A few seconds later, Fletch rounded the corner after him and plowed straight through a gaggle of servants, narrowly avoiding rolling his ankle and eating shit on the cobble. He caught his balance and took off again. Color and smell and noise assaulted his senses as he wove madly past the crowd of morning shoppers. Up ahead, his target bobbed in and out of sight. "Of course the weasel hides in the bloody market," he growled. On his list of preferable places to tackle someone and knock them senseless, busy markets were near the bottom.
Still, he ran, and now the crowd worked to his advantage. The dealer found just as much trouble navigating the busy street as he did, and the affronted cries of jostled women made it easier for Fletcher to track him. The distance between them narrowed again. With a few smart maneuvers, he began to close in. He almost had the fucker. Almost —
Up ahead, where the street narrowed, a cloaked figure sauntered at a leisurely pace, seemingly oblivious to the chase behind him — or to the fact that he blocked the entire fucking street. The dealer pushed past the man, taking advantage of a narrow gap between him and the stalls, and sped off again to disappear into the crowd. "Fuck," Fletcher spat as he barreled forward. "Move!"
The cloaked man ignored him. "MOVE, JACKASS!" he roared, expecting that this time he'd at least have half a clear path to shove his way past. But the man still sauntered and swayed and did anything but move. "Shit, shit, shit — " Unable to stop in time, Fletch smacked bodily into him and fell to the dirty pavement. That was it. It was over. He'd lost the dealer. And he was furious. "Are you fucking kidding me?" he shouted as he scrambled to his feet, shoulders heaving as he rounded on the man. "What are you, deaf?"
One minute it was the most wonderful day and the next he was face down in the dirt. His teeth clanked hard as his chin smashed into the stone path and a massive weight crushed the air from his lungs. Even as the weight left him his chest heaved and squeezed fighting for air that would not come. Panic began to fill his veins until that blessed first breath was gasped back into his chest followed by harsh body shaking coughing. Blood coated his tongue as he ran it over his teeth afraid to feel one loose.
Fire in his bones came secondary with oxygen once more under control. Everything ached as if he had been run over by a horse and cart before the cart was backed up over again for good measure. Pushing up onto his hands and knees caused a soft hiss as he pushed up faster and looked down at his scraped palms, bloody elbow and torn sleeve. Theodore could see his mother's rant already.
So much for sneaking out without anyone being none the wiser.
He paced, fuming, shooting equally livid glances at the man on the ground and the one who'd gotten away. "Square one. Square bloody one," he seethed, still locked in that adrenaline rush. "Ten days of work and it's all up in smoke because someone couldn't be arsed to MOVE. Oi. You. Get up."
The man didn't get up. Passersby skirted around the scene, eager to be anywhere else but near a foul-mouthed merc with a temper. Fletcher glowered at them before returning his attention to Mr. Fuckwit. "Are you fucking serious?" he barked, nudging the man in the arm with his boot. Nothing.
Anxiety sparked and thrummed in the back of his mind. Had the man split his head open on the street? He hadn't hit him that hard, had he? "It wasn't that much of a fall. Come on. Quit playing dead." Fletch reached down, grabbed him by a fistful of cloak, and yanked him to his feet.
A strangled gasp escaped Theodore as he flailed and was dragged with no effort to his feet. The man that did so looked furious to such an extent that his own heart sank. Once more he had failed to hear whatever it was that had gotten this man to this outraged point. Had he accidentally knocked something over? Been mistaken for a thief? Walked too closely to his wife?
His shoulders sank as he raised his hands fingers splayed and palms out in a gesture of meek harmlessness.
"I'm sorry I'm sorry. I don't know what I did. I'm deaf. I can't hear you. But I can read lips. This is all a misunderstanding. Please sir I mean no harm. How can I fix this?"
His jaw and chin throbbed as he spoke, a bruise already beginning to bloom around the nasty scuff. Theodore did not dare make any sudden movements or put his hands down out of fear for things turning ugly. The man was nearly as tall as him and had already proven his strength. One angry shove and Theodore would be on the other side of the marketplace in under a second.
The instant he heard it, Fletcher went green and his good eye went wide. His stomach turned and twisted. He released the man's cloak and took a step back. "Shit," he said. He'd done some damage. The man's face was scraped and bruised...and by his pale complexion and the softness of his hands, he wasn't the sort that some lowly merc could just rough up and walk away from without consequences. Even if his cloak was shabby and smelled of onions.
"Shit," he repeated. "Erm. Fuck, mate, I didn't — " He trailed off for a moment before mumbling another "fuck" for good measure. "Look," he said a little louder and a lot slower, like that would make the man less deaf. "You can't fix it. What's done is done. Alright? But you should go home. Get someone to look at those cuts. A servant, or something."
His eyes widened and he tried to shake his head in a pleading but but of course Lady Luck was against him and they were overheard.
"Servant?" Someone piped up from the butcher's stall behind him. "Oh young master! What are you doing out? Your parents are going to be absolutely beside themselves! You come with me now I'll take you home!" The portly woman declared as she latched onto the man's arm.
Theodore's entire face fell before the mask of resigned politeness slid into place. He smiled weakly, thanking the woman politely as she started to drag him away. But still he glanced back over his shoulder mouthing an apologetic sorry to the man that had seemingly knocked him off his feet.
What a miserable day it was indeed.
Well. That was that. He had to admit that he hadn't quite gotten the hang of how they did things in this part of the world. They seemed to coddle their nobles like children, here. But the man wasn't his problem anymore. It was just as well. Even after losing the dealer, he had other business to attend to today. And now, after that fall he'd taken, he'd have to find somewhere to wash up and get presentable, too. "Not my bloody day," he muttered, still working to catch his breath from sprinting. He turned away. Without so much as a backwards glance at the man he'd run into, he started off in the opposite direction.
The estate wasn't awfully far, but it was enough of a hike to calm his nerves and clear his head. He decided that he'd have to let the opium black market settle down again before they'd get bold enough to be able to catch. It could take months. In the meantime, he had two mouths to feed, and one of those mouths belonged to a very expensive bitch. And she would not stop following him.
Fletcher walked backwards and pointed at the great white mongrel that trotted happily not twenty feet away. "No," he ordered. "Stop that. Not here." As always, Aya chose to ignore him, and as always, he scowled about it. "You fuck this up for me, you're not getting fed, you dumb dog," he snapped. "We'll both be out a job without a roof over our heads. Stay." She didn't stay. But she did slow a little, and when he strode up to the gates, he caught a fleeting glimpse of a snowy tail as she ducked into the trees.
He cleared his throat. He smoothed his hair. He straightened his jacket again and brushed the dog hair from it. He approached the manor house door and knocked. "Mr. Daw," he introduced himself. "I'm here about the guard position."
"Right this way Mr. Daw," the servant directed showing the man to a cozy receiving room with a warm fire going. "Please make yourself comfortable. Baron Archer should be with you shortly." The man did not even blink at the shrill voice echoing through the halls from another room as he nodded and made his retreat.
"...COULD HAVE DIED...BABY...FILTHY...SAVAGE..."
The woman's shrieking grew louder as several sets of footsteps paced closer to the room.
"Ivory dear that is enough. He won't be able to make anymore attempts after we've secured a guard. Now please darling our guest has arrived."
The door opened and a tall man with silver hair, glasses, and tired brown eyes entered before being overtaken by his shorter, big energy, greying haired wife.
"What are you going to do to ensure my baby is kept safe?!" She asked rounding on the newcomer immediately without so much as a pleasantry.
"Ivory please," her husband sighed taking a seat, his voice filled with pure exhaustion. In doing so he revealed however the third person to enter the room. Theodore, now in a fresh shirt and sporting bandages on his hands and chin, entered quietly, his hazel eyes showing complete detachment from the bulldogging his mother was currently doing. That is until he looked up enough to catch sight of their guest. His eyes widened in recognition. The man who had yanked him about and screamed in his face!
Theodore stood up taller and took a step further into the room. "Hello sir," he spoke, his voice soft and gentle in direct contrast to his mother's booming interrogation. "My apologies for earlier. Are you quite well? I did not mean to cause you trouble before."
"Before? BEFORE?!" His mother squawked. "How do you two know each other? Theodore what company have you been keeping?!"
It was difficult to make himself comfortable with all of the screaming, so Fletcher opted to stand beside the fire, hands clasped behind his back in his best imitation of a man from politer circles. Moments later, what little peace was in that room evaporated into thin air as the woman barged in and flapped about like a shrieking harpy. It was clear that she was the lady of the house, and Fletch did his very best not to crack a smirk at her dramatics. But fuck, it was an uphill battle not to. He bowed his head under the pretense of a greeting, stifling a snort.
"Ma'am," he said as he finally got it under control. "Sir. If you'll tell me more about the situation, I'll be happy to — "
Someone familiar trailed in quietly behind the baron and his wife: a timid mouse of a man, all leg and arm. Had he been in the same cloak, Fletcher would have recognized him instantly. Now, all bandaged up and in fresh clothes, it took him a moment to realize that it was the man he'd barreled into not a few hours earlier. He narrowly caught his jaw from dropping. Fuck, he thought. There goes that job. He could only hope that the man had some sense not to —
"Hello sir. My apologies for earlier. Are you quite well? I did not mean to cause you trouble before."
No. There it went: his hope of some income, up in smoke. In the ensuing commotion, with the nobles' backs turned, Fletch shot him a truly withering look. "You fucking serious?" he mouthed, and then slipped back into aloof neutrality as the lady of the house addressed him. "Erm...I'm afraid I'm not following," he replied, coolly as you please. "I assure you we don't, Ma'am. Your son might be mistaken. We don't move in the same circles, as I'm sure you know. Perhaps someone else with an eyepatch?"
Fletch glanced between the two parents, hoping to all hell that he could salvage this for the sake of his empty wallet, dwindling supply of tobacco...and hungry dog. "Sir. Ma'am. As I was saying. If you'll tell me a bit more about what's been going on, I'll tell you how I'll address it."
He learned, in the next half hour, exactly what had been going on. He could have laughed then, too, but he kept up his poker face and nodded along. The "filthy savage" of the day that the baroness had referred to was, of course, him. But she'd become convinced that her son — hardly a prize worth bothering with, if he knew them well enough — was being targeted for abduction by I'kanans. Fletcher didn't blame her for paling at the thought. He knew firsthand how ballsy they could get. He cleared his throat.
"Alright," he nodded. "You already have rotating guard shifts, if I saw it right on my way in. You may want to extend that to a perimeter patrol — pairs of guards. No man posted alone. I'kanans will think it's child's play otherwise. As for me: I can keep a constant watch on your son during the day. Check the doors and windows at night. Make sure everyone in the house is who they say they are. You'll want another man or two to take over during odd shifts." He ran through his mental checklist for anything he'd missed. "I'm happy to demonstrate my skill if you have a willing man to spar with, though...that might not be proper for you or your son to see, Ma'am. Oh, and, er...I would scrutinize your household staff and replace any of them who might be fond enough to allow an heir to slip through cracks in security." He cast a hard, pointed look over at the man again. "Just a hunch."
Theodore blushed at what he could only assume were mouthed words given the way his parents failed to react. How was he supposed to know the man was here for a job? It was not as if anyone told him anything ever directly to his face. He was almost willing to let it slide too if it weren't for the fact that the man tried to suggest it was another man with an eyepatch he saw. Theodore cast back his own headtilt of 'are you fucking serious' before quickly righting his features.
His eyes glazed over some as he watched the conversation. The ever so slight sliding of his father's lips to the corner indicating his concern at what this would cost them contrasting how his mother's painted ones began to blend in with the rest of her face as her newest anxiety attack began to take hold. This Mr. Daw however, spoke differently. His accent was strange. Adelan perhaps? From the southern regions? He did not hang on vowels the way the Essyrni did, that was for sure. He carried himself like he was one of them but the way his lips pulled in and down suggested how he held back words before releasing them. His mind was ahead of his tongue. Ivory could not relate.
'...household staff and replace any of them...'
Theodore's eyes widened in panic and he came back into focus. His brow knit in concern as he tried to shake his head behind his parents at the perspective new staff member. 'Not Aneisha and Kenna. No please gods of hearth and home, it's not their fault. Please don't do this to them. Oh gods what have I done?'
"Yes well that's all well and good," Pascal sighed, waving his hand and getting to his feet. "I trust you'll interview them all and report back on your findings then, Mr. Daw? As our new Head of Security it will be in your best interest to learn the layout of our home and the staff you'll be working with. I'll have Kifes," he called the name, the servant appearing almost from the doorway where he had been waiting in the hall, "escort you to your new quarters. The servant quarters for Theodore have not been in use since he had a nanny so should be more than enough for your needs. You'll take your meals in the kitchen with the other servants and pay will be at the end of the week. Are there any accommodations I need to take into consideration before writing up your contract?"
That their son shook his head in panic at the mention of replacing staff did not go amiss. Well, Fletcher thought. Should have thought of that before you snuck out. Truthfully, it was all smoke and mirrors and bluster. He had no intention of fucking over some poor scullery maid's bread and butter. Besides, if he did his job right, he'd shortly close that lapse in security. But the man didn't know that, and he aimed to keep it that way.
"Of course," he replied to the baron. The corner of his mouth twitched at the mention of a nanny. "No, no further accommodations. Thank you, sir. I'll take my leave and get settled. Ma'am." With a stiff nod at the two of them, and fully ignoring their son, he left the receiving room and began to follow Kifes. As soon as he entered the hall, he dropped his arms back to his sides. His aching shoulders fell again, as did the tight expression he'd kept up. He hated pleasantries. He hated acting like a fucking ponce. But he hated being hungry and out of smokes more, so he'd take the job. He just wouldn't be happy about it. "There wouldn't happen to be a window in my quarters, would there?" he asked Kifes. "One that opens?"
"Right this way, Mr. Daw," the middle-aged man directed. He waited until they were out of earshot of the squabbling family before likewise sighing and relaxing his posture. "You'll learn to get used to that. Theodore's great, Baron's rather relaxed, but the Baroness," the man shivered and shook his head. "My name's Olivier by the way. Welcome to the staff," he continued smiling freely while offering a hand for shaking.
"As for your room, it does have a small window, which can be opened. Can it be closed is the more appropriate question however. Room is fully furnished and has been prepared for your arrival, so if you have any things that need moving in you just need to let us know and we'll help you. Mealtimes are dawn, midday, and dusk. If you miss one be wary of cook, she's feisty with a meat cleaver and doesn't take too kindly to people sneaking food through her kitchen.
"This is the Young Master's room and this is yours," Kifes stated motioning to a door. The room inside was simple but cozy. Lots of light from the little window, a bed made with fresh albeit worn linens, a wardrobe with drawers, and a little desk. An additional closed door sat in the wall between his room and Theodore's. "Is there anything I can do to help you get settled or anywhere you'd like to specifically see?"
Fletch looked even more relieved, and gratefully took Oliver's hand. "That obvious that I'm new to this, ey?" he murmured with a chuckle. "Thanks." He stepped into the room and turned slowly in place, taking in the amenities. "This is, erm..." He turned back to Oliver and flashed a sheepish grin in stark contrast to his earlier chill. "Well. It's a few steps up from a ship's cabin with a bunk and a bucket, I'll say that much. Appreciate it, mate. No, I'll just have a look around later, if that's alright. And, er...what was said back there. The...interviews? Just don't worry too much about it. I'm not about to shit where I eat."
With that, he set his bag down, nodded a goodbye to Olivier, and closed the door. He eyed the other one that connected his room with the man's. "Nanny, my arse," he muttered to himself as he strode up and latched it firmly with a loud click. Then, alone at last with a rare moment of leisure, he climbed up onto the bed, opened the window, and began to fish through his pockets for a cigarette.
"Nah, you carry it well. Don't you worry. You'll fit in just fine here I think." Olivier tapped the side of his own nose with a wink before making a retreat to return to his own work. Fletcher's peace was not meant to be though as quiet as a mouse, Theodore who had slipped away from his mother's ramblings darkened his doorway. Leaning against the doorjamb with his arms loosely crossed over his chest, he simply took in the sight of his newest keeper looking every bit ready to start smoking.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he spoke softly. "Mother would have your head for it."
Fletcher startled, whacked the back of his head on the window frame, swore louder than he should have, and shoved the cigarette back in his pocket. He turned around, looking every bit the guilty party for trying to sneak a smoke. "Fuck it all," he muttered before he could catch his own language. "Knock next time, would you? ...Sir." He scrambled down off the bed and crossed his arms in kind, and then finally, he remembered who he was talking to. His hands swept back around and clasped behind him. "Forgive my manners," he added with a note of cold formality. "Something you need?"
He waited patiently for the other man to gather himself again and cease his swearing. "Apologies I will do better in the future." Theodore bobbed his head slightly in apology as he took in Fletcher's stance before lifting his chin some preparing for a fight fight. "There will be no interviews and there will be no let gos. The staff had nothing to do with my outing today and you will see to it that your report says the same. Do this and you won't have any problems from me ever.
"As it stands I imagine your job will be very boring for you." He sighed softly and stood straight, uncrossing his arms. "I don't go anywhere and I don't do anything. You'll see soon enough your heightened security measures are overkill. But as long as you leave the staff alone, I don't care what you do. Will that work for you Mr. Taw?"
Fletcher didn't quite conceal his surprise in time, and he kicked himself for it. Of all the things he'd expected Pretty Boy to get on his case for — being rude at the market, scraping up his face, his general unsavoriness and swearing and duplicity — this was not one of them. Did the man really care so much about commoners? His eye narrowed slightly and he stood there quiet for far longer than he should have as he bit back a million sharp retorts. But he didn't know this man, beyond that he was deaf, quiet, overly polite, and upper crust. He didn't trust him as far as he could throw him, so he'd keep his cards close.
"Respectfully, sir, I answer to the Baron and Baroness," he replied. "I'll do the job I was hired for, and I'll do it the way I see fit." He stepped forward a few paces — just enough to make his point, but not so close as to threaten his ward. "If there's nothing I can do for you, I think you should leave, sir. The way I understand it, it's not proper for you to be in a servant's quarters. Your mother certainly doesn't seem to want you mixing with the savage commoners."
Theodore held his ground even if his face paled some at the approach and his lip wobbled ever so slightly. These were his friends. These were the people he grew up with and around and he was not going to let some cocky new pompous asshole come in and take their livelihoods from them.
"Have you no soul?" He asked quietly, his voice cracking some as he fought to keep his hands from shaking or shrinking away. "You may not know them but the people who are my father's staff are people with names and families and homes. They are good, honest people. They have done nothing wrong, but you'll come here and threaten that for them? To prove what? What good does hurting people do for you? Leave them alone. I am not asking."
He swallowed and surreptitiously wiped his sweaty palm on his pant leg. "Forgive me. That was perhaps more forceful than I intended.
"As for savage commoners I believe you misheard my mother as the only ones she refers to as savage are the Adelans and more specifically the I'kanans to the southwest. As you appear to lack either sharpened teeth or cheek scars, I believe us to be safe from her opinions. Unless I am mistaken?"
More silence. More bitten back retorts. Fletcher couldn't see himself lasting a day without dropping the act and laying into his own charge. The man had a mouth on him. Pretty, and polite, and proper, and quiet, but a mouth nonetheless. But the more he listened and took Pretty Boy in, the more he sounded shaken. So. He meant what he said. There was conviction in it. He cared enough to stand up for the staff. Maybe Olivier was right, and his charge was a good one.
Either way, he was tense, he was tired, and he needed a smoke. He let out a heavy sigh, relaxed, and set his hands on his hips. "Right. I need a fag or I'm going to burst. Either come in and close the door and we hope your mum doesn't smell me smoking, or take a walk with me while I pretend to lecture you on security. Which do you want?"
His brows knit together in confusion. "You need a what?" He blinked in disbelief because surely he didn't say he needed a 'vag.'
Theodore shook his head and stepped out of the doorway. "Outside. She knows all and there will be no end.
"You will leave them alone?" He asked quieter his face showing all his vulnerability and worry. "Please?"
"A cigarette," Fletcher clarified, enunciating a little better this time. "Come on. Smoke first, then talk. I'm dying, here." He motioned for Pretty Boy to move out of the doorframe, then led the way outside, walking as quickly as he could without looking unprofessional or urgently ill. Once out the door, he swung around the side of the house until they were out of earshot of the other guards. He paused, popped the fag in, and lit it. "Fuck me," he mumbled. "She really going to make me do this outside if it rains?" The question was more rhetorical than anything. He knew the answer. Of course she was going to. Woman was so uptight it was a miracle she'd pushed out a child at all.
He resumed the walk but slowed his pace and faced the man as he spoke. "You're going to have to forgive me, sir, but I'm dropping the pleasantries. Was never good at that shite. Firstly: no. I'm not getting anyone fired. I'm not a monster. You've nothing to worry about there." He squinted at Pretty Boy, still unsure if he could entirely trust him. "Already told Olivier, so they all know by now. So you're going to keep that to yourself, yeah? Word gets to your mum that I'm soft on the staff, I'm out, and then you have someone else in a room right next to you who doesn't share your radical sentiments on classes." He paused and took a long drag, then continued. "And I know the I'kanans. Well...some of them. Good people. Maybe a little nutty. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, but I don't think we'll come to it at all. Which means my only job, really, is making sure you don't leave the grounds. And I do need this job. So I'm going to do what I need to do to keep it."
He sighed wearily again, took another drag, and looked Pretty Boy over. "Questions?"
"Worse," he replied honestly. "She'll make you smoke on the furthest corner of the garden and likely still have a fit if she sees you. Her nerves can only endure so much."
A whoosh of air escaped his lungs in pure relief and it was only then as his vision speckled with stars that Theodore realized he had been holding his breath. His head felt fuzzy and he staggered slightly bumping into Fletcher's shoulder for a moment before being able to pull himself together.
"Sorry," he apologized quietly while taking a few very necessary grounding breaths.
"I'm not entirely convinced even you share my so-called radical ideals on classes. I do not know you sir beyond the fact you are now my keeper, and indeed very strong."
Catching his breath finally he shook his head as they reached the outer edges of the garden and placed his bandages hands on the fencing to stare off into the world beyond his front door. "I have not had the good fortune to meet an I'kanan but I know them to be incredible sea-farers. Their knowledge and intuition alone is worth its weight in gold. My mother is just a bigot and while yes a certain very sought after young noblewoman was stolen from her home by them, I am really nothing in comparison and my mother worries needlessly. All of this works in your favor though as you will most assuredly have job security as long as you desire it doing...nothing. Welcome to your new boredom," he sighed and shook his head.
Fletcher watched the man curiously as he stumbled, but said nothing. He wondered if he was ill, or simply weak. No wonder the baroness was worried for her son. He looked like a particularly strong gust of wind might blow him off his feet and away from the estate. At Pretty Boy's doubt of his character, however, he let loose a dark-sounding chuckle. Something about it had gotten under his skin just the slightest bit. It didn't help that, as he worked on the cigarette, his bracelet peeked out from under his coat sleeve: a mocking reminder of the man who'd made him that way in the first place. He slipped another step away from polite decency — though he did keep his voice calm and even. "You're welcome to that opinion, mate. We both know you've got enough on me for your mum to fire me on the spot. You really going to take that risk before you know for sure? Could make it worse for your friends if you do."
Fletcher looked out across the grounds. It was absurdly quiet out here. Peaceful, almost, except for Missus Archer's awful shrieking. He didn't like it quiet. It made him tense, and he didn't know why. But he wasn't about to give up on a private room and good food and steady income. So he turned to Pretty Boy, he shrugged, and he lied. "As for boring, well...I could use a good night's sleep for once."
"Depends," he replied with a slight shrug, "why did you attack me? What great offense did I commit this time? Also if this is going to work between us I'd appreciate it if you didn't threaten the people in my life with every other sentence. I am allowed to feel wary towards the man that made me eat dirt and threatened to fire coworkers he's never met. Believe me or don't but I have no interest in making your life difficult. You should have many restful nights ahead here."
Fletcher drew a breath, held it, couldn't for the life of him come up with a good retort, and let it out again. Instead, his expression shifted. It was subtle, at first: the warning flash left his eye, and the tension in his arms slackened. He cocked his head and looked over Theodore Archer with something like respect. He'd been wrong: the man wasn't a pushover at all. "Hmm. Yeah. No. You're right. Though — wasn't a threat. At least, not this time. First time, it was, yeah...might have gotten a little rude when you threatened my livelihood right out the gate. But like I said, I'm not fucking over my own kind. Just reality: you replace me, that replacement may not be willing to drag you, a noble, out of the house for a smoke and some better understanding. You want one, by the way? Cigarette?"
He took a drag and paced a bit. Standing still in this quiet made him antsy. "And I wasn't attacking you. I was running. You were in the middle of the street. I yelled...tried to get you to move...you, er, obviously didn't hear that, and..." Fletcher shot him a sheepish glance. "I'm sorry. About your face. Wasn't my intent."
He shook his head politely. "I don't smoke but go ahead. I won't tell." Theodore squinted as he tried to follow Fletcher's pacing. There was a delayed silence as he tried to process what he was seeing and piece it together into comprehensible sentences he could reply to.
A shrug met his apology. "I'll heal. Or I won't." Theodore looked down at his hands though and flexed his fingers, grimacing slightly at the sting the action created.
"Do you have a first name Mr. Taw? Or do you prefer I keep to pleasantries with you?"
He cocked his head again. Every time Pretty Boy spoke, he was more of a riddle. He was certainly different than every other noble Fletch had ever met. Usually, they were the sort to brag at parties that they had their servants wipe their arses for them for a laugh. They loved their stupid, useless, frilly lives. This one looked like he was about to crack under it all.
"It's Jack. But you're the one that gets to decide that, aren't you?" he asked. "Not my place to tell you how to address m — oh, for fuck's sake, Aya! No!"
In the middle of his sentence, two massive paws and an inquisitive face appeared over the fence. The dog grinned her idiot grin like she found the idea of jeopardizing her own dinner amusing. "Go on," Fletcher hissed. "Not in broad fucking daylight." But as always, Aya played it off like she couldn't understand a word he said, and chose instead to inquisitively sniff the air in Pretty Boy's direction.
"You have autonomy, Mr. Taw. You're a person and if you want me to call you by your first name you'll tell me and if you want to be called otherwise I have no doubt you'll tell me that too."
His head snapped to the side to see what was causing such ire only for his expression to melt. Theodore bobbed his head in respectful greeting to the dog before offering a hand palm up below chin level to her.
"Hello beautiful one," he intoned slipping into his native Serenian dialect easily. "Where did you come from? Does my jailer belong to you? Are you his keeper?" Theodore chuckled very softly as he allowed her to decide how their interaction would go, plenty amused at his own jokes.
Fletcher groaned as yet another unsuspecting victim fell prey to Aya's charms. "No, don't let her — she'll — " but his warning came too late, and Theo hadn't read what he'd said, and now the dog was halfway over the damned fence with her back legs kicking in the air for traction. Her target: Pretty Boy's hands, and when she reached his fingers, she began to lick his wounds. "Aya, no," Fletch insisted. "Shit. You'll need to wash those out again. I didn't think she'd be — Aya, no." Now the dog was fully over and onto the lawn, bent on going after the scrapes on his face. Fletcher shot a worried glance up at the house. If he wasn't careful, before long, she'd get him into trouble.
"Alright, that's enough. Enough." He stepped between the two of them and leaned into her with all his weight, shoving her away from the man he was supposed to be bodyguarding. She took a full step and a half backwards before digging her heels in like the obstinate hellion she was. "Aya, stop. Enough. You can't be here. You need to leave."
Theo heard and saw none of Fletcher's words but Aya's antics did make him laugh. His face split in an ear to ear grin as he worked to pet her head and ears right until his new bodyguard's body came between them.
The laughter quickly quieted a he straightened, moving only enough around Fletcher to be able to see his face.
"She is yours then? Mother won't let you keep her in the house but there's space in the stables where she can shelter so long as she gets along with other animals. You likely could insist in your contract that she's part of your new guard regime. She's certainly big enough to scare someone off even if she's all love no bite."
"No, not my dog," he grunted before remembering who he was talking to. He held up a finger. "One moment. Fuck's sake, Aya, back off." She finally relented and sat, though it was clear by her windmilling tail and bright eyes that her energy was barely contained. She huffed, resigned to watch Theo eagerly. Fletch turned so the man could read him again. "Not my dog," he repeated. "She just follows me around and empties my wallet. And she's part not-dog, too, so be careful. And...really? Missus will get on my case about smoking, but she'll let a fleabag on the grounds?" He shook his head, finished his smoke, tossed it in the grass, and tamped it out with his boot. "If she listened, maybe. But she doesn't. So she stays outside."
Fletcher jerked his head towards the house. "I need to get you back inside and find someone to change your bandages. Emperor knows where her mouth's been."
Theodore shrugged. "She wouldn't let her in the house of course but a massive guard dog isn't something Father would necessarily say no to." The man looked down to the tamped out cigarette and then up to Fletcher, stubbornly keeping in place. "You can finish your smoking before we go back in. I will not come undone from being licked.
"As for your not dog--does she have a name? Allow me to show you where the stables are and we can see about having a den for her so she isn't running loose around the grounds or getting into the henhouse...would she get into the henhouse?"
Fletcher snorted and barely managed to conceal his laughter by pretending to cough into his sleeve. Even when he managed to compose himself, the tug at the corner of his mouth and the creases under his good eye gave him up. Pretty Boy seemed none the wiser for what he'd just said. Was it a language thing? Or was he just that sheltered? Fletch cleared his throat and forced the smirk away. "Well, I'm not going to eat the damned thing," he countered. "Surely she's not going to come all the way out here and fuss over one cigarette butt. The rain will melt it. As for the mutt..."
He sighed resignedly and looked down at her. He tapped his foot. There were many times when he wished she'd stop following him altogether. Then he wouldn't have to see her, or think about her, or answer all these questions when people inevitably fell in love with her. "Her name's Aya. Not my idea. She never was. But as long as she's well-fed, she won't hurt a fly. Actually..." He brightened up at the idea he'd just had and arched an eyebrow at Pretty Boy. "Think if she's considered a guard dog, they'd add feeding her to the contract?"
"You have met my mother," he replied with a raised brow that clearly conveyed 'what do you think?' Still Theo sighed and bent down to pick up the discarded trash, keeping it in his hand as he nodded with his head towards the stables, patting his thigh hoping to beckon Aya to follow as well.
There was a quiet as he lead the way and thought deeply on Fletcher's question. "I think Mr. Taw if you can make enough of a case for it that she is necessary to," he grimaced "my safety then it could be added in. It might mean a smaller cut of suns for you as it is docked from your pay but even if I must out of my own allowance, I will ensure she is cared for. It's not her fault she exists.
He sighed heavily, shaking his head slightly as thoughts of his own self tried to invade and he did his best to mentally bat them away. The stables were not as grand as most nobles likely had but there was room enough for a few horses. The space was tidy and well kept albeit with worn and well-used equipment. Theodore approached one of the empty stalls and opened it revealing a clean space predominantly used for storage as well as a couple of sleepy barn cats that rushed to weave between his legs. These babies he bent to pet carefully with the back of his free hand before pulling down a horse blanket and setting it up on the floor and patting to try and summon Aya.
"Will this work for you, Contessa Aya?"
For a second, he looked mortified. "Fine. But give that back, would you? Somehow I think it would be even worse if she found out you were picking up after the staff." He held out his hand expectantly as they began to walk, waiting for Pretty Boy to cough up the godawful thing he'd just plucked from the grass. Aya wedged her way between the two of them like any of this was her business, favoring Theo and watching him expectantly. Fletcher scowled. "She thinks you're an easy target," he explained. "Thinks you'll give her something if she bats her eyes enough."
His face fell as they approached the stables. He'd suspected they'd dock his pay to feed her, but he hated to hear it. For a moment, he'd been excited about the idea of coin staying in his pocket and not going right down the drain — or down a gullet, as it were. At least here, he wasn't paying for a bed, or for three square meals. He had his own private room, and that was more than he could say for most of his life. But still...money was going to be tight. He'd have to stick around for a while, after all.
"No, don't bother," he replied. "I'll take care of it. If they'll dock my pay, it's more trouble than it's worth to mention. Damned dog thinks she's a princess," he added. They'd stopped in front of a stable, and before he could protest, Pretty Boy had set her up a bed. He spoke to her in that odd language again as he did. It struck such a familiar chord: someone quiet and gentle and lost in conversation with an animal that understood none of it at all. Fletcher's gaze hardened as he watched the two of them together. Aya was already enchanted. She'd seen the resemblance in his own charge before he had, and now she sat obediently on her new throne and ate up the man's attention.
He waited for Theo to meet his eye. "Should be getting back to the house, now, sir," he said.
"You seem like a confidence man," Theo murmured back. "Ask for what you need and see what they say. My mother will do anything if she thinks it will keep me preserved in one piece and my father will do my mother's bidding. If not, as I said I will care for her as she is without owner."
Theodore gave her head and ears a tender love before quietly introducing her to Gin and Tonic the ginger and tabby cats checking her out curiously. He refused to look at Fletcher as long as he could manage, already knowing his temporary flight would be over when he did and the leash would drag him back into his gilded cage. A bucket was carefully filled with water and though it took more strength from him than he cared to admit and both arms to cart it back without spilling it he still placed it down for Aya with one final pat. A nod to his keeper and he was exiting the stables with a wistful glance to the sky before bypassing the side entrance he should have been using and instead heading for the back servant's entrance into the kitchens.
The smell of hearty cooking assailed his senses but it was the small body of Aneisha the scullery maid attacking him from the side in a sudden hug that sent the nobleman staggering slightly back into his new guard as he caught her and lightly patted her back.
"Are you in lots of trouble, Teddy? I promise I didn't tell anyone!" she said looking up at him with wide, concerned eyes. He patted her head with a smile that did not reach his eyes and shook his head. "All is well Aneisha. Don't worry. You're not in trouble. I know you wouldn't. Would you help me with my hands, please? I got the bandages dirty while out for a walk."
"You're so clumsy!" The young girl beamed up at him as she ushered him to sit, startling slightly to see Fletcher behind him and waving shyly with a bright red face before scooting off quickly to get the necessary supplies. Theo meanwhile sat back in the rickety chair completely uncaring for the mess around him and relaxed as he waited for her return. When she did come back, Aneisha kept casting curious glances over at the other man before gesturing her hands to Theo in conversation who gestured back with whatever free hand he had while she worked, smirking softly as he also glanced at Fletcher from the corner of his eye and nodded.
He bit back a retort. Not your dog, either. He'd warned Pretty Boy plenty, and now, in typical uppercrust fashion, the man was going to do what he was going to do, and damn the consequences of keeping a disobedient wolf. Aya seemed to understand that this was her place, now — much to Fletcher's chagrin. She watched Theo fetch her water. She whined at the cats, ears perked and eyes alert, but seemed to know better than to run up and sniff them. As the two of them departed, Fletch saw her circle a few times, dig at the horse blanket, and then flop down contentedly. Somehow, it made him even moodier. "Don't you have a stablehand to do these things?" he muttered, not caring whether Pretty Boy read it.
Finally, they headed back to the house...and past the main entrance. It took Fletch a moment to grasp where they were going. "This your escape hatch?" he asked as they approached the servant's entrance and stepped up into the scullery. But before Theo had a chance to answer, they were ambushed.
The girl seemed sweet. Genuine. It was clear by their familiarity that the two of them had a rapport. Fletcher found a spot in the corner and sat, still preoccupied by that sudden and jarring reminder of a thing that, like Aya, shadowed him wherever he went. He was so deep in thought that the cigarette was halfway out of his pocket before he remembered where he was, and back it went again. That little jolt of anxious guilt snapped him back to the present, though, and now he watched Pretty Boy and the girl as they waved their hands through the air. He squinted. What were they...?
It came to him suddenly: that silent language he'd seen used south of here. A few of the "words" were similar, in fact — though most weren't familiar at all. He had a sneaking suspicion that they were gossiping about him, and Pretty Boy's expression confirmed it. Still, it was hard to be particularly bothered about it, especially when the maid was already so nervous with him there. He leaned forward a little. "Could at least have the decency to talk shit out of earshot, you know," he chuckled.
Aneisha squeaked as if slapped, shrinking down further beside Theo as she finished off his bandages before gently being waved off back to her work with a quiet thanks. "You understand?" he asked signing the words as he spoke. "Then you would know she is curious about you. She thinks you're a pirate." Amusement played across the nobleman's features as sunlight streaked through the cracks in the wooden window slats and warmed his face. He did not want to leave and go back to the reality that was upstairs.
"Have you eaten, Mr. Taw?"
It was Fletcher's turn to look embarrassed. Try as he might, he picked up on very little that Pretty Boy had just signed. Although...was one of the words...pirate? He frowned, perplexed. He supposed he had told Olivier as much. The man must have gossiped already. "Erm...it's been ages since I sailed, truthfully — oh. You mean the eye?" he asked the girl as he tapped the eyepatch. He flashed a disarming grin to soften how frightening he knew he must look. "Different story entirely. Though, maybe one for later. Little too gorey for kitchen talk."
Pretty Boy seemed to find it all funny. He was still such a puzzle. His mannerisms and looks and posture were a dead giveaway of status, but Fletch had only seen the weight lift with Aya and here in the kitchen. One thing was for certain, though: he did actually care for the staff. He was honest about that from the start, and now Fletcher could see it for himself in the warmth between him and the girl.
"Have you eaten, Mr. Taw?" he asked.
"No," Fletch replied. "Not since breakfast. I thought, erm...Olivier said your cook would go after me with a cleaver if I nicked anything between meals. Not that it'd be the first time I've run from a woman with a knife, but...that's a first impression I'd rather avoid if it's all the same."
Aneisha blushed and smiled back even if she ducked more into the shadows to be perceived less. Theo for his part snorted softly at the mental image of his guard running from an armed woman. But no sooner had Fletcher answered than a small rough hand was pushing a plate stacked high with leftover breakfast rolls, dried meat, and sliced apple into his lap. The young girl chewed at her bottom lip as she rocked slightly on her toes in anxious anticipation.
"Have you seen a pirate before?" She asked suddenly.
Taken aback by the maid's sudden generosity, it took Fletcher a moment to remember his manners. He looked between the plate and her, suddenly uncertain what to make of these people. He was so used to nothing being freely given. To everything having some hidden price. He'd assumed that household staff worked much the same way, but it was clear as day that Aneisha wasn't pulling that on him now. "Erm. Thank you, this is...erm...you sure I'm not getting you in a heap of trouble, here?" He took a slice of apple, eager to have something to fuel him besides smoke and nerves.
"Pirates...let me think. Well...without damning myself out of a job and into a cell," he joked, "I suppose we dealt with more than a few thieves while running cargo. It's why my brother taught me to fight, actually. Not much point in getting paid to break your back if some shirtless wanker jumps aboard and steals it all out from under you, is there? Erm...sorry. Still learning to watch my mouth."
He took another bite, savoring the first home-cooked meal he'd had in who knew how long. He made a mental note to butter up the cook. If he wasn't careful, he'd lose his figure eating like this. "Well? Your turn," he said, nodding to Aneisha. "You ever seen any highwaymen? How about robbers? Ghosts?"
"Ghosts aren't real!" She protested, lightly smacking his shoulder before covering her mouth as she realized what she had done.
"Yes they are," Theo intoned, pulling attention away from her and causing her to cock her hip and grimace at him while offering a very rude gesture.
"May I have some tea please, Aneisha?"
"No," she replied full of sass. "Not until you admit the ghost is you."
Theodore shrugged as she turned back to Fletcher. "Would you like some tea, Mr.—is it Daw or Taw?"
Fletch didn't stifle his snort this time as the maid did the last thing he'd ever expect from her. "Oh, I like you. You're well on your way to being a pirate already," he quipped. Without realizing it, he'd relaxed more than he'd been able to all day — from the chase this morning to his nerves at meeting his new employers. "Erm, no, no thank you. It's never been my drink of choice, truthfully. And Daw. It's Daw, with a D. Jack Daw. Like the bird. Also not my idea." He paused, frowning, as he pieced something together. Pretty Boy was stalling. He'd been stalling since they walked out on the grounds. Either he was that avoidant of his mother, or someone had needed time to rifle through Fletcher's things. Well, there was one way to find out.
"I should get you back where you should be, sir," he said, now watching keenly for a reaction.
Aneisha giggled softly and shook her head. "Our stable boy has it worse. Poor Dewey." Turning to Theo, the young girl pointed towards Fletcher and then signed the correct spelling of his last name making the nobleman sit up and flush in embarrassment.
The look he sent Fletcher was a cross between shame and hurt. "You're not going to lose your job for correcting my pronunciation," he intoned quietly as he got to his feet to obey the direction to return to normal life. There was no hesitation in his movements even as he hopped up the steps, easily skipping every creaky spot in the process so that his ascension was only as loud as the whisper brushing of his clothing against each other.
Wordlessly he lead the other man to a room with double doors clearly meant to receive and entertain people. Inside sat a piano, shoved unceremoniously into a corner. Theo continued to walk towards it until he abruptly stopped. There was a pause before he did an immediate about face and hurried himself right out of the room not even pausing to avoid nearly bowling Fletcher over in the process.
The reason for his haste would be self-evident a few seconds later as his mother's shrill voice suddenly rang out fruitlessly calling for him.
"Teddybear! Teddy I know you're in there come here please. Theodore Archer I know you can hear me!!!"
Theodore walked faster, scaling the steps two at a time, all the way up to his room before stopping and at last turning to face his guard.
"I find myself with a headache and will be retiring for now. I'm sure my father is likely done drawing up your contract if you wish to return to his study and finish the final dealings as well as add your addendum about the need for a guard dog. Otherwise your afternoon is your own. I will let you know before deciding to leave my room," he sighed and grimaced, "although I do not foresee myself doing so for the rest of the—day.
"Or do you require access to my rooms to sufficiently guard me?" The last he asked genuinely without snark or disgust.
Oh. No. It was definitely the former. Fletcher kicked himself for misreading the situation, and for pulling such a bad bluff. He shot an apologetic glance at Aneisha. "Sorry to dine and dash. Thanks for the food, love. I owe you one." With that, he took off after his silent charge as the man rushed through the house: known territory for him, largely unknown for Fletcher. Fletch huffed and puffed up the stairs behind him, not certain where Pretty Boy was going but determined not to lose him out a window.
"Sir — wait — " he gasped in between bouts of swearing beneath his breath. But Theodore never faced him, instead racing in and out of an empty room and hurrying up the next flight of stairs. Hot on their heels, the Baroness began her awful shrieking. "Good fucking emperor, woman," Fletch breathed, and picked up his pace again.
When at last they reached the top, Theo finally gave him a chance to speak. Fletcher leaned against the doorframe and fought to catch his breath again. "Can you not do that to me?" he mouthed, barely letting a whisper escape his throat for fear that he'd be heard downstairs. He straightened and recoiled a little at what Pretty Boy said last, then screwed up his face in confusion. "No. Why would I...? You're not a child, sir. And I'm not a fucking sadist. I'm not invading your quarters." He rubbed at his eye and grumbled. "Yeah. Thanks. You're right. I'm going to go take care of the contract. Please just...don't get me fired by hopping out a window and breaking your ankle. Alright?"
He spent the afternoon settling in as best as he could. Between securing Aya her position as princess of the stables, checking his room to make absolutely sure nothing had been taken, exploring the ins and outs of the property, and beginning a truly laughable series of bullshit interviews for the sake of appearances, the rest of the day was hardly his own. By the time the cook dished out dinner for the staff, he found himself looking forward to an early night.
But somehow, rest didn't come easy. His mind buzzed with the events of the day — the riddles and puzzles and peculiarities of this way of life that he'd always imagined having, yet never known. It was soft, and the people here were kind, and he had everything he could think to ask for. But something felt wrong about it. The too-quiet house that felt more like a tomb. The way Pretty Boy ran from his mother and rebelled like a teen under curfew. He'd known how to keep quiet when he walked. It was the same way Fletch had moved as a kid when he was scared his dad might go after him. That thought kept him up longer than he'd have liked. By the time he finally fell asleep, fully clothed and atop the covers, the candles had burned down to the stick.
Theodore slept. The sun moved through the sky and his window until it set beyond the horizon and still he did not stir. Another maid came and tried to get his attention for dinner and still he slept. By the time Fletcher crashed in his own bed the food left for the Young Master had sat by his door and long gone cold.
The moon hung high in the sky by the time he finally sat up suddenly in his bed, heart racing in disorientated confusion before he realized where he was. He had slept the day away and managed another afternoon of avoiding his mother and her nagging.
He got up quietly and went used the basin in his bathroom to wash his face and neck. The bandages in his hands were carefully removed and abandoned. It was overkill for a few scrapes but there was no telling the Baroness that. The one on his chin was removed and refreshed though as it already was looking rather angry red and dark purple with bruising.
For a moment he stood there hunched over the basin and staring at himself in the mirror. Everything here was a farce. He was a puppet for his mother's amusement when she remembered him and a disappointing reminder of what he could and should have been to his father. The irony that the man who had warranted him needing a guard had become it was not lost on him either. The more he thought in the matter though the more he wanted to laugh in despair. As if there was an I'kanan in the planet that would want a discard like him. It was a joke.
He splashes water at the mirror and turned away from it. His gaze was drawn instead to the door that divided his room from the one next door. The Nanny's room his father had called it. As if the one who had once resided there didn't have a name. As if the one who used to care and comfort for him and been his entire world had never existed. And now someone else lived there. Was he there now? Probably, it was late after all.
Theodore felt antsy. He wanted nothing more than tear out of his room and down the stairs to his sanctuary but knew that was no longer so simple or allowed an act. He had promised to notify him—Jack, if he was going to be leaving his rooms but would thank him for disturbing him? He anxiously picked at his cuticles while mulling over the dilemma.
Finally, brave enough to move even as his heart hammered in his chest he stepped forward towards their shared door and hesitated. His hand hovered the wood as each breath felt like it shuddered and squeezed within his lungs. Would he be in trouble? Only one way to find out. Theodore knocked—softly, gently as if afraid to wake the one within but also needing to then retreated from the door as fast as humanly possible to exit his room into the hall and wait.
Someone knocked. Had he dreamed it? No, there it was again — a gentle knock, but enough to wake him. Fletcher groaned and rolled clumsily to his feet. It was dark out. What time was it? How long had he been out? By the state of the candle, not long at all. "Coming," he managed, dragging his sword from where it leaned against the wall. "Better be important," he added to himself. He ran a hand over his face and cracked open the door.
"Yeah?" he began, blinking the sleep away and trying bring the outline of Pretty Boy into focus. Then his hand stopped over his bare and sunken left eye, and his right one went wide. He'd forgotten his eyepatch on the bed. "Shit. Sorry," he mumbled. "A minute, would you? Or, just...I don't care. Fuck it. Come in if you want." He ducked back into the room and turned his back to spare the man the ugly sight. After he'd secured his eyepatch, he returned his attention to his charge. "What d'you need?"
Theodore stood still in the light of the candle he held as it cast unsavory shadows on Fletcher's face. Yet, all he did was stare curiously rather than in horror. He looked away to allow the other man his privacy though as he rushed to replace his eyepatch.
"I'm sorry for waking you Mr. Daw. I just wished to inform you that I am going downstairs for a bit. I did not wish you to worry that I am not where you are expecting. I am not leaving the house so you can go back to bed."
"Oh." Fletch squinted, brows knitted, still fighting off the sleep that had just come to him. Between his messed hair and his rumpled clothes, he was a disheveled sight at this hour. "Erm. No." He sighed, blinked a few times, and looked around for his sword. He found it where he'd set it on the bed. He supposed if Pretty Boy was just going to another room, he wouldn't likely need it. "No," he mumbled again before remembering to face the man when talking to him. "Lemme get my coat. I'll come with."
"I'm sorry," he apologized again sighing painfully as he waited. Once Fletcher joined him he carefully wound his way past his abandoned and uneaten food, down the hall, extra slowly down the stairs again, and back into the room he had fled from during the daylight. His candle was placed on the windowsill before he sat down at the piano to play. The hand positions made his scabs sting but it did not stop him from trying all the same.
Soft, slow, mournful notes flowed from the instrument as Theodore played what was on his heart. There was no music to read as he played what was written in his soul. Time was immaterial and he did not notice its passage as he played. All else faded out of attention as he allowed his mind to wander. He thought of the thrill of his morning as he ran to the road and felt the crisp air in his lungs and he played. He recalled his fall and his mother's overprotective fawning and he played. The reintroduction of Mr. Jack Daw into his life and the fear of his friends being fired froze icily in his veins and he played. The joy of a dog so excited to see him and kiss his wounds better that she climbed a fence to see him, the playfulness of his friend tending to him in a warm kitchen, the harsh reminder of reality, the sleep that never refreshed and he played.
The notes sang, they wept, they danced, and hoped and dreamed and crashed and fell first slow then fast then dragging their feet to the very end. By the time the music stopped the candle had long since burned out and dawn was stretching back into waking the day.
Theo sat and stared at the coming morn feeling empty inside. He has played all night and now as the world was still and quiet so too was the well of emotions within him.
Of all the things he thought Pretty Boy might be getting up to — grabbing a book, or stealing a snack, or even sneaking out the back for a bit for air — this was not one of them. Fletcher followed him dutifully into the room and did a bleary-eyed double take when the man sat down at the piano in the corner. But...he couldn't hear. So what was he...? Bemused but too tired to make a fuss over it, he found a spot on a lounging couch and rested a boot over the other knee.
He'd expected discord. Shitty noise like a small child would make while banging the keys. What met his ears instead was...feeling. Something raw and real and poignant. It was music, sure. It was pleasant enough to listen to. But it was more than that, too: like a release. And somehow also like a siren's call, beckoning him down beneath the waves.
He shook himself. His eye had closed the moment it started, and he'd started to nod off to the melody. Taking a deep and fortifying breath, he sat up straight again and strained to keep awake. He wondered how long Pretty Boy was going to take, and whether he could win the battle he was losing against sleep.
He awoke with a start to quiet and the predawn light. "Shit," he grunted, picking himself up from the couch in a panic. Was it morning already? Pretty Boy must have run off the moment he'd passed out — no, there he was, still at the piano. Fletch breathed a sigh of relief and pushed himself to his feet with a groan. He staggered to the piano like a zombie. "You didn't run," he commented, his voice cracking through a parched throat. "Thanks."
Theo startled horribly, flinching deeply as Fletcher came into view. He settled quickly as he recognized the man and apologized softly. His own voice was thick with disuse and spent emotion.
"I didn't mean to keep you up all night. I'm so sorry, I forgot you were there." He rubbed a hand over his face and settled back into his polite mask. "I told you if you gave them no trouble I would give you none and behave. You haven't and I am."
He sighed again and looked to him. "Do you need to smoke again? Or go back to bed? Again I'm sorry for that. It was very selfish and inconsiderate of me. I will try to do better in the future."
Lack of sleep stole what little filter Fletch might have had in place before. He stood there swaying, half awake and entirely a scruffy mess, and frowned blearily down at Theo. "You apologize a lot. You know that?" he rasped. "You don't need to, mate. Least, not to me," he added with a dark glance towards the door. "Erm. No. If I go back to bed, I'm missing my shift. I'll manage. Will need a smoke, though. You want fresh air, you're welcome to walk with me."
He stared up at the other man, taking in his disheveled appearance and finding that he liked how it softened and made his jailer seem more human. Perhaps the man wasn't all bad after all. Perhaps they had just had a rough start and the two could find peaceful balance living in cohabitation due to unfortunate circumstances.
"You're not any less deserving of consideration and apologies just because I hate why you're here. You're still just as much a person as I am...moreso even," he added even more quietly.
He got to his feet, pausing long enough to carefully pick at the melted wax that had spilled out of the collection dish and all over the windowsill. Every piece of extra wax was meticulously peeled away and placed where it would be less mess for the maids to clean up later.
"After you, Mr. Daw. You've been patient enough with me and my eccentricities."
He led the way. In his stupefied state, he couldn't quite remember each and every spot that Pretty Boy had skipped over, but somehow he managed to avoid the worst-offending floorboards. The last thing he wanted was to wake the Baroness and make up some excuse on the spot as to why he was dragging her son outside at this hour. Well, Ma'am, he needs to learn to defend himself, he thought, making a face and jerking his head farcically as he imagined the encounter. You want him fit enough to repel hundreds of I'kanan suitors, that begins with a morning jog around the grounds. Blah, blah, blah...
He snorted at his own silent joke. Although...it wouldn't be a terrible idea, now that he thought on it. Pretty Boy had struggled with that bucket of water back in the stables. He seemed like he could use some sun, too. But none of that was in Fletcher's job description, so he set the thought aside, led them both out through the scullery, and headed for the fence again. He pulled a cigarette and grimaced at how few he had left in the case. Then he shrugged and waggled it at Theo anyways. "Smoke?"
Like a ghost haunting his every step, Theo silently followed. He paused in the scullery long enough to grab an empty metal pail before continuing all the long to the fence line. He shook his head in reply.
"No, thank you. I don't smoke," he repeated easily without any hint of frustration at having to repeat himself. The pail was tucked in between a tree and the fence for Fletcher's discard use and the nobleman straightened to lean back against the fence. The dewy morning air left a damp chill in his bones that made him almost regret coming out in just a tunic and trousers but he was even more reluctant to go inside and retrieve his coat. He simply wrapped his arms about himself as he stared up at the window to his room and thought of all the times he had stood staring down at the road wishing it was him on it with friends. A blob of white caught his eye and as he readjusted his gaze he snorted softly.
"The dog is back."
It took Fletcher a second to realize what the pail was for. He didn't say anything on the subject, but he did give Theo an odd look. The man was determined not to leave a trace of himself behind, and he'd extended that here, too. The Baroness really was a menace, Fletch decided, if she'd beaten it into her son this badly.
Pretty Boy refused again. "'Course not," Fletcher grunted with the cigarette balanced between his lips. He lit the thing and leaned over the fence, staring off into the dark forest. He closed his eyes. Today was going to be rough. He could feel it already. He'd need to set up the night shift soon or he'd be passing out on the job. It wasn't the worst he'd experienced, but he was no longer that young and limber little bastard who could pull a full day's hard labor on a few hours of shut eye.
A shivering breath caught his attention, and he turned to see Pretty Boy shaking with his arms wrapped around nothing but a damned tunic. "Fuck's sake," he muttered. He stood up straight and shuffled his belongings into his trouser pockets, then pulled his jacket off and tossed it at the man. "First a maid's cloak, now this. Do I need to amend my contract and procure you a coat, sir?" he grumbled in jest before scowling up the hill at Aya. "I think she heard you. Careful. She'll try to go for your face again."
Sure enough, the dog barreled towards them, dug in a little too late to slow her own momentum, went up on her hind legs, and, before Fletch could react, landed her front paws firmly on Theo's shoulders, pressing mud and wet grass and bits of straw into the fabric of his tunic. She bestowed him with the customary dog greeting of too many kisses, pausing only to press her cold nose and sniff directly into his ear. "Aya," Fletcher snapped, positioning himself to pull her off of his charge. "Leave him alone."
"No, I own a coat, thank you." Theo caught the coat awkwardly but draped it over the fence instead of putting it on. "You'll catch a cold and get sick and then what work will you have? Keep it. At least if I get sick you'll have a few easy days," he attempted to jest back, the words sounding flat on his tongue.
With his gaze on Fletcher though he missed Aya's entrance until she was literally plowing into him. A hard grunt escaped him as his back collided with the fence behind him and he had muddy paws and puppy kisses to worry about instead. Theo, gently grabbed her front paws and moved them so her own momentum would lower her to the ground before recrossing his arms and refused to look at or acknowledge her until she settled down. Only then did he reach to give her head pets and soft words.
"You're going to have to behave better if you're not going to get your colleague Mr. Daw into trouble, Miss Aya. You're a guard dog now. Very important business means not jumping on your client like a common stray. You're not a common stray are you? No, I didn't think so. Not that there's anything wrong with strays but you have a job to do, y'know?"
He scratched her ears before straightening and brushing what debris he could off his shirt. He'd need to change before his mother saw him but he was loathe to go in just yet. "Were you able to discuss the contract with my father regarding Aya?"
Fletcher stepped back and watched Pretty Boy work the same magic on Aya that Ven once had. He crossed his arms over his chest. His expression grew guarded again. "Course she listens to you," he said, his voice low and bitter. "You remind her of her old master." He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a second, then added, "Baron was amenable to having her on perimeter rounds. She can stay. Point taken, though. She's a bit too wild. Have you got anyone on the staff who can train her?"
He noticed the abandoned jacket on the fence, rolled his eyes, and retrieved it. He shook it at Theo. "You catch a cold and I get scolded for neglecting your well-being. That's not an easy few days in my book. Put the damned coat on, sir."
"I'm sorry," Theo replied looking to Fletcher with genuine sympathy. "It must not be easy to be left with a reminder you're not exactly thrilled to be saddled with. I do not mean to bring up painful memories for you." He sighed in thought. "....Dewey is a faunapath. He may be able to work with her if she is willing to work with him. He doesn't like to force his will on others though."
Theodore glanced at the coat being shaken at him before dragging his eyes up to Fletcher's face. "Put it on yourself, Mr. Daw. If I catch cold they will just assume it was from my outing yestermorn. I know it is your job to be concerned but I assure you I am shockingly an adult male and not the baby the Baroness implies me to be.
"You will quickly find that your job is little more than glorified babysitting of a grown recluse. There are no I'kanans that would ever be interested in me, no murderous highwaymen, no kidnappers expecting ransom, and with your arrival and our agreement, no disfigured heirs escaping out into crowded marketplaces. I would truly congratulate you on securing such a well-paid and simple position if it did not come out sounding so much like an insult."
For a split second, Fletcher looked like he'd been slapped. He'd run his mouth on numerous occasions already, it was true. But he never expected that his charge was the sort to piece together the clues in between the words and see the truth so quickly. Whether or not Pretty Boy had meant it, that simple, quiet observation was a bullet striking bone. He didn't like that. Not one bit. "Fine," he replied, jaw clenched and lips pursed. "We'll try Dewey."
He donned the coat again as instructed, but not without a dubious glance at his charge. He was quiet as Theo spoke, and then for a while after, with his expression softening over time. The man was so sure that he was trapped. All the money in the world wouldn't change his mind and pull him out of his own arse. Yet his back wasn't broken from years of thankless toil. He had power in being the heir of what appeared to be a healthy family fortune. He had status. Hell, he had friends here, too. Fletcher didn't think that Theo was all that bad, but still: he couldn't quite manage to stand there and listen to this naive man's self-pity without saying something in return. He finished his cigarette and flicked it at the bucket. It barely made it in. "Depth perception's gone to shit," he complained before turning back to Pretty Boy.
"Look," he said, and the way he looked at the man was not unkind, even if his words were harsh. "I'm going to be honest with you, sir, because frankly, anyone who stands up for working folk is alright in my book. We wouldn't be having this conversation at all if I thought for a second that you were a copy of your parents. But...this sort of self-pity won't get you anywhere. You're right. You're a grown man. What's more, you're of means. At the risk of losing my job within a day of getting it — " he paused, shook his head at his own candor, lacked the will to stop himself, and continued anyways — "you decide your circumstances. If you're not what your mother says...prove it. Because from where I'm standing, the only one holding the cage door closed is you."
Without another word or a backwards glance, he headed back towards the house. Either Theo would follow, or he wouldn't.
Theo watched patiently as the other man was extremely candid with him while also placing things as delicately as he probably could for a rogue. He took the words in and not just at face value but deeply to heart. He let them sit there, resonate, sink in, touch the shadowy parts of himself that knew them to be the truth, and then accepted them. For someone who had just met him, Fletcher had either made one very lucky glancing strike into his heart or more likely saw straight through to him.
The nobleman mulled this over as he watched the man's back walk a few paces away from him. "You're right," he called out suddenly. "I do hold my own door closed. Perhaps you'll stick around long enough to find out why." Pushing off the fence and mindful of Aya trotting along beside him, Theodore gained on Fletcher with his longer strides. "And it's Theo, not sir, Mr. Daw." He looked to the other man offering a nod of respectful acknowledgement as he walked back with him towards the house.
"Oh, he's a fucking poet, too," Fletch muttered. With his back turned, his surprise was hidden. He'd thought for sure that he'd run his mouth for the last time just then, but...somehow, his gruff, worn, half-asleep rambling had gotten through. Miraculous, really, given that he'd just told a nobleman to cut the self-pitying crap to his face. "What am I getting myself into?" he mumbled. He'd been so sure that he could walk into this house and take the job and pretend not to be himself for hours on end, and he'd done a clumsy, piss-poor job of that indeed.
Well. It had worked so far. Hadn't it?
Pretty Boy caught up, and Aya too. "And it's Theo, not sir, Mr. Daw." Fletcher turned to look at him as they walked, suddenly a caricature of seriousness and concern. "Yes, sir," he replied with a sardonic tilt of the head, unable to help himself. Then he was all business again. "It's getting light out. We should head in before your mum has me hanged. Erm...dog shouldn't get close to the kitchen," he advised. "Wouldn't want her knocking one of the girls over." He diverted them back towards the stables, and Aya came willingly enough. Once he'd managed to have her settled into her throne, he marched back towards the servant's entrance and paused to hold open the door. "After you, sir," he said.
Theo tilted his head at him in good-natured resignation before nodding and following obediently. Only once she was on her blanket did he give her praise and headpets before also likewise exiting. Their return however was met with boisterous accolade. The moment they stepped foot into the scullery, Aneisha came zooming up to them.
"Good morning, Pirate Jack!" she chirped offering him a salute while pushing a plate stacked with fresh hot buns, a cooked sausage, and some cooked tomatoes. "Breakfast time!"
The scullery maid signed quickly to Theo something about pirate and surprise causing the nobleman to chuckle and pat her head as he headed for the stairs. "Enjoy your breakfast, Mr. Daw. I'll see you when you come to collect me for breakfast. In the mean time," he plucked at his soiled and rumpled shirt, "I will be needing a bath."
It was still more food than he knew what to do with, and he eyed it in wonderment before remembering himself. "That's Smuggler Jack to you," he chuckled to Aneisha. "Can't call me Pirate until I earn the hook hand, and I'm still not planning on letting Cook do that to me. Are you trying to fatten me up?" he added. "You'll be rolling me places at this rate." He nodded to Theo in acknowledgement of what he'd said. "I'll have a chat with Dewey today," he added with a mite more formality before finally digging into breakfast.
"So," he started by way of conversation. "What do you all do for fun around here? Any wild parties when the Baron and Baroness go out?"
Aneisha laughed, her whole face lighting up as she helped clear the workbench for everyone to sit at. The few other maids and servants soon gathered, each taking their own plates as they sat down and started the morning gossip. The scullery maid for her part patted the spot beside her on the wooden bench for him to join her.
"We don't have any parties here, although around yule Teddy sneaks us a barrel of mulled wine and we'll drink it while telling ghost stories. On Fridays we all tend to go down to the pub for some fun and on paydays we like to pile into Orz's cart and he takes us to the next town over where they have carnival and performances and things. They even had a real mermaid!"
"Oh come off it Neish, everyone knows it was a lady in a fin skirt holding her breath and flirtin with the lads. When are you gonna grow up? Mermaids ain't real lass. Selkies though, them you gotta watch for," the cook chimed in pointing a knife as she spoke. "Steal your souls they will."
"Thanks," he said, and plopped down beside the girl. He ate slowly and carefully — strategically, almost. First the tomatoes, then the sausage, then a little bit of one bun. He grinned as he listened to Aneisha, noting again how fond they all were of his charge. She was sweet, the girl. Reminded him a lot of his sisters, though that was half a lifetime ago now. Had the same fire as they did, too.
The more he learned, though, the more he began to feel on edge. They were all so happy. They weren't at each other's throats or cold and quiet or disingenuous and catty. This was a comfortable life for them. They wanted to be here. They wanted to be around each other. And that was something that he had never known: not as a child, not as a runaway, not on a ship, not with the man he'd loved. He began to wonder what the catch was. When the other shoe would drop. His smile grew just a little strained, and maybe a little sad, too. But he held it up for Aneisha's sake and picked at the bun again.
"No, no, I want to hear this bit about the mermaid. Was she pretty? Can you put in a good word for me? Tell her I'm a pirate? She'll love that."
She laughed again and scooted half a sausage off her plate onto his. "She was very pretty. Her hair was so long! It reached all the way down..." she motioned over her chest with mischievous eyes.
"Yeah and she charges by the quarter hour," Orz muttered under his breath earning a smack from Olivier.
"Will you come with us, Smuggler Jack? They have lots of fun foods too. Meats I've never heard of from far away places and candies shaped like stars! They even have this sweet bread that almost rivals Kenna's." She leaned into him and whispered conspiratorially behind her hand. "Theirs are bigger though."
Fletch snorted at Orz. "And how would you know that?" he countered before returning his attention to Aneisha. "Erm...maybe once I sort out who'd fill in for me. I can't exactly leave my post until I'm off, love. After that, sure, I'll be your bodyguard in town. Scare away all the boys. I don't come cheap, though," he added. "You've got to show me your favorite food there. Deal?" As he spoke, he quietly moved the sausage back to her plate.
"Because three hours costs a fucking fortune," Orz muttered through gritted teeth, earning him another smack and getting sent away from the table to return to work, a bread roll jammed into his mouth as he hurried out the door.
"Oh but can't we just take Teddy with us? I'm sure he'd love to see the sights. Maybe not the mermaid of course but I don't think he'd mind the fresh air." Aneisha moved the sausage back to his plate in a fluid movement as she reached across it to grab the jar of jam which she applied liberally to her roll. "Even so you can't be working all hours of the night and day. You're still a human after all--" she suddenly gasped eyes alight as she fully turned to face him. "You're not a zombie smuggler are you? Do you turn into a skeleton by the light of the moon?!"
"Not the mermaid? What, he doesn't fancy seafood?" But then Fletcher quieted a little as, unbeknownst to her, Aneisha put him on the spot. "Well," he said. "Do you want to be the one to ask the Baroness about that? She's a bit too scary for me. Don't think I'd win. Which means I think your Teddy is stuck here for now. Unless you want to dress him up in a horse costume and make him carry you down the road," he added with an impish chuckle before shaking his head at her last question.
"You'll have to sort that one out for yourself. I should be going, though...should clean up so I don't look like absolute shite." With that, he stood, deftly dropped the sausage back on her plate again, grabbed the buns from his own, and gave her a mock salute off his brow. "Thanks for feeding me," he called over his shoulder to the cook, and disappeared up into the house.
He hurried to his quarters, keeping and eye and an ear out for the Baroness. Thankfully, she was nowhere to be seen, and he slipped through his door before anyone would notice what a mess he was. He locked it and turned, meaning to set the buns aside on the dresser, only to stop in his tracks and stare. At first he thought it was a mistake — that someone had delivered a gift to the wrong room. Then he saw the little card with his pseudonym. Then he glanced around the room, thinking that maybe this was a practical joke, but no...it wasn't. He looked back at the basket, piled high with the sort of baked things he used to dream of stealing as a kid, and clenched his teeth against the unexpected tightness in his throat.
"No," he said to himself, shaking off the feeling. "No. You people aren't real. This doesn't happen." He breathed deep, set the buns carefully next to the basket, and resolved to pretend it wasn't there at all. A few minutes later after a hasty washing up, he emerged looking both preoccupied and irritated, strode up to Pretty Boy's door, and knocked. And waited. Then, realizing what he'd just done, he groaned up at the ceiling and opted simply to stand and wait for the man to appear.
Her shoulders slumped though at being reminded of the Baroness. The disappointment did not last long though at the mental image of the Young Master being dressed as a horse. "We could!" she called after Fletcher as he made his exit. There was a soft cry of protest that could be heard as she discovered the returned sausage but otherwise the staff carried on with their talk and their chores, allowing the day to get fully underway.
Theodore for his part had managed to fully bathe and change into fresh clothes. There was no hiding the dark circles under his eyes but perhaps if he kept his head down enough his mother would simply not notice. Then again she likely would notice him ignoring her unending prattling and would like get in trouble for ignoring her. It was ultimately a lose-lose scenario for him.
His thoughts were interrupted though by the feel of the floor beneath his feet vibrating with the footsteps of another nearby. 'Mr. Daw must be finished breakfast,' he mused to himself with a small grin. 'Aneisha must be buzzing over him finding her little surprise. I know she was worried about him liking it but I don't see him as the kind of man to look a gift horse in the mouth.'
More footsteps and then a bigger vibration caused by his door rattling signaled the other man's arrival at his door. He quickly scuttled across the room to open in it, his hazel eyes twinkling with a tiny spot of mischief and amusement. "Did you enjoy your breakfast, Mr. Daw?"
"Ye—" He stopped mid-word and released the rest of that breath like a kettle with steam. Pretty Boy looked a little too entertained, given how tired they both were. The crease between Fletcher's brows deepened. "You in on this?" he asked bluntly. "If it's a joke, sir, it's not a good one." He jerked his head to his own door. "Knock when you're ready. I'll wait." With that, he spun on heel and disappeared back into his quarters, shutting the door firmly behind him. He glowered at the basket once more before striding to the bed and flopping down on it, pointedly ignoring what he'd been given.
Theo's expression when from pleased to utterly confused by Fletcher's sudden outburst and change of mood. Weren't they getting along almost before they parted ways? Why was he now so fussed and running off? What had happened?
The nobleman stood there in stunned silence for several moments as he attempted desperately to wrack his brain for what he had done wrong to suddenly cause such an offense and yet still came up empty. With his heart hammering against his ribcage he took the leaden steps to the next room over and lightly brushed his knuckles against the door.
"Mr. Daw? Can I speak with you? I'm sorry but I don't know what happened just now and I'm trying to understand."
Fletch shot daggers at the closed door. He ignored the man for as long as he could comfortably manage, grumbled, rolled back off the bed, stomped up to the door, and opened it again. The look he cast at Pretty Boy was a severe one. "Are you ready for breakfast, sir?" he asked through gritted teeth, ignoring the rest of what Theo had said.
Theodore flinched at the look but held his ground. "I'm sorry I didn't catch that. Please, I thought we were getting along. Have I done something to offend you? Were the staff cruel to you? Did Aneisha cross a boundary? Did my mother find out about this morning? I'll speak with her and smooth things out. It's my fault anyway."
It just made it worse. The softness. The questions. Fletcher hadn't expected any of this. He hadn't been ready. He scanned the hall, then returned his piercing gaze to Theo, blood pumping furiously and nostrils flared. In spite of it all, his eyes strained to water. "Are you. Ready. For breakfast. Sir?" he repeated, enunciating every word this time.
Fletcher looked like he would explode from the inside at any moment if Theo so much as looked at him the wrong way. He had no idea why everything had suddenly turned on its head but he knew he was part of the problem and he very much wanted not to be. For a moment he was completely silent, taking in the tension of the other man's shoulders, the way his pulse throbbed in the veins of his forehead, and the glassiness of his eye.
Wordlessly he placed a hand on the other man's chest and gently pushed him back into his room, closing the door behind him. "Jack, please. What's going on," he asked softly with genuine concern. "I fear I've done something horrible to hurt you and I don't understand what. What can I do to help you? Please, I want to help. I want to right this wrong."
Maybe it was the shock at Pretty Boy's sheer fucking audacity. Or maybe it was his own fear that if he let any of this out, he'd break the man's pretty little nose and be out on the street again within the hour. Whatever it was, he allowed himself to be pushed back into his quarters. He backed away another few steps. To his own surprise, he barked an exasperated laugh. "Of course you don't fucking understand," he rasped, straining to keep his voice low. "Why would you understand? The fucking balls on nobility, mate. You think everything is for you. Do you honestly think you can just snap your pretty fingers and somehow understand the people who serve you? What, just because you joke with them a bit and they let you into the bloody kitchen?"
He was fuming and pacing now, hands flailing to enunciate his every point. "You," he continued, jabbing a finger at Theo, "Have never had to worry about where your next meal comes from. You've never had to starve so your siblings could eat. You've never had to scrimp and save just to buy some shitty, moldy little loaf of bread and been fucking thankful to see it. You've never laid awake at night with your stomach hurting so bad that you can't get to sleep. You don't know. It's not for you."
He stood in place now, heaving, but could find nothing more to say. Slowly, he managed to get a grip on himself, and now the rage was tempered with heavy resignation as it settled with him what he'd just done, and to whom. "You know what...I'm sorry. That wasn't...I'll pack my things and go. No need to tell them."
Theodore strained to keep focused on what Fletcher was saying. Every jarring movement threatened to distract enough into missing crucial points. And yet he continued to stare practically unblinking so as to not miss a single word. By the time he was done, Theodore could feel his eyes burning and yet it was nothing in comparison to the deep sinking weight that slipped from his chest to his stomach.
"No," he intoned at last. "You're right. I do not know what it is like to go without basic necessities. I do not know what it is like to have to fight for inedible scraps just to survive. I do not know the injustices that so many people face, firsthand.
"I recognize that I am very privileged. Disgustingly so in your eyes I'm sure. And yes the people downstairs treat me warmly most likely more out of obligation than true desire to. You're not wrong on any of this. But is my lack of experience and understanding such a vast barrier that it is impossible for me to comprehend what grievous error I've made towards you?
"If you want to leave, you can of course leave. But, I do not wish you to. I see no reason for you to unless truly whatever this horrible thing I have done is just so reprehensible that you cannot stand to be in my presence.
"But please," he swallowed thickly his voice cracking even as he pressed on, "please even if it is too great a thing to ask of you, tell me what I have done wrong to you."
Fletcher stood still, hand to his forehead and eye averted, as he wearily listened to all that Pretty Boy had to say. And it was all so perfect. Of course it was perfect. Why would it be anything other than that? Why have flaws when he could reply with grace and precision? Why argue like a human fucking being — furious and ugly and messy — when the man could sound like he'd just read his own words from a book? Even his confusion at Fletcher's mention of leaving was insufferable.
Fletch glanced up between the cracks in his fingers, then dropped his hand to his side so Pretty Boy could read him. "You're serious?" he growled. "Fine. Fucking spell it out for you then." He pointed at the basket. "No one is this nice. Life isn't this good. There's always a catch. Maybe not for you, but for people like me? Always a fucking catch. And I am...very clearly in the wrong place. I don't belong here. I've now insulted you more than once, by the way, and I can't fathom how that hasn't gotten me kicked to the curb. You're too nice. They're too nice. And I'm not. So I don't fucking belong here."
Theo looked at the basket and dawning begin to reflect behind his eyes. Aneisha's present was not being well received. Silence hung heavily between them after Fletcher had spewed his vitriol, but Theodore was still slowly weighing his options. His feet wanted to run like the coward he was. Run and not stop until he was so far away no one could find him. But doing so would hurt the people who relied on his existence including Fletcher whose sole job was keeping him contained. Running was not a viable option.
His heart ached for the hurts inside this stranger. He wanted to help. He wanted to wrap his arms around him as one had done for him once and tell him the world is cruel but there's good in it too and that his anger is justified. But he was a coward and was sure such actions would get him tossed out the nearest window after being beaten into a pulp.
He could order him down to the training yard and let him pummel some poor recruit or training dummy into the ground. But neither the ordering nor sending a man on the verge of a breakdown seemed like the right course of action. He would win no favors by throwing his authority and privilege around and in turn humiliating the other man.
He could leave and let him wallow in whatever toxic quagmire of emotion he was sinking into. But Theo knew firsthand how bad drowning in plain sight felt. He knew how it destroyed the soul to be screaming inside for someone anyone to notice you and they stood right there and watched as the waves claimed you, doing nothing to help. He could keep himself in a cage of his own making but he wasn't going to allow someone else to drown with him. The world could be incredibly cruel, but it wasn't that mean either.
"No one is that nice. Aneisha spent all night making you that basket herself and was so proud to be able to welcome you with it that she told me right in front of you. She, sweet and silly girl that she is, wants something of you. She wants your friendship. She fawns because she is good but wants to know you are as well. Dragons don't bite if they're well fed.
"I'm not this nice. I accept the insults you hurl because I know them to be true. I sit in a gilded cage of my own making and cry how unfair my life is while others truly suffer and I hold the key to my own freedom. But I am a coward and I console myself that the reason I stay is because my presence supports the lives of others, like you. My only friends are servants obligated to like me whose care and attention I buy with nice gifts. What's the harm in a kind word if it makes people behave how you want towards you?
"And you're not nice at all. You're gruff and coarse and run with every opportunity to cause insult as if your life depended upon it while pretending to be poised and reserved. But..."
Theo took a calming breath and softened his volume and tone. "But, you care for a dog that is not your own even when the doing hurts you. You tease and laugh and soften yourself to not scare a shy girl that still believes in fantasy and wonder and mystery when everyone else has long since outgrown it. You accommodate a man even as you are furious with him so that he can stand on equal footing with you, when even his own mother would rather pretend he is not defective on a good day. You're not a monster either.
"If you want to leave, then leave. But find a better excuse than this cowardly attempt to provoke me into causing your own self-fulfilling prophecy as you run from happiness. I have enough misery I don't need to make yours too."
Fletch kept his mouth shut. As Theo spoke, the fire faded in him and his expression shifted to that same, cryptic look — like the dawning of respect. Though, when the man mentioned Aya, his eye darkened for a moment, and again when Theo mentioned his mother. At last, Theo was done, and even though he'd woven plenty more self-pity into what he'd said, it had struck true.
Fletcher released a quiet hiss of a chuckle through his nose. The faintest smile appeared. "Could have just thrown a punch, sir. It'd be less effort." He glanced at the basket, then sheepishly back at Theo. "Don't tell her I've been an ass," he added, before groaning and rubbing his face for the thousandth time. "Right," he muttered into his hands. He strode wearily towards the nanny door, unlocked it, and held it open. "Give me a moment to look presentable again, would you? I'll retrieve you in a minute."
Theo snorted back, twisting his neck slightly to relieve his own tension. "Would have just broken my hand and it would felt like a feather hitting you all at once."
He gave a knowing look but nodded. "She loves raspberries and frogs. Just in case you were feeling inclined to be less of an...ass in the near future."
As Fletcher unlocked the conjoined door, a strange look came over the nobleman's face. He paled and hesitated as it was opened for him before nodding and hurrying through quickly. "Take your time."
He shut the door and latched it again. He took a breath. Then another, and then reluctantly approached the small mirror in the corner. He looked about as close to dog shit as he'd been expecting. His eye was bloodshot, both from lack of sleep and from wrestling with his own anger. A dark circle ringed it like a bruise. He'd neglected to shave yesterday evening, and already that silver-speckled stubble had grown right back and made him scruffy. In contrast with his surroundings, he looked so out of place: like someone had tracked mud in over a nice rug. I don't fucking belong here, he repeated to himself, but this time, Pretty Boy's retort echoed and slapped it out of him.
"Stop feeling sorry for yourself," he murmured into the mirror. "They fire you, or they don't. Make some money. Feed the bloody dog." He turned without another glance, splashed his face with cool water from the basin, dried off, smoothed his hair down again, and went to fetch his charge.
With the door closed behind him, Theodore allowed himself to pool onto the floor in the middle of his room. The adrenaline rush of standing up to the angry man with as much calmness as he could manage was quickly leaving his system leaving him feeling weak and shaky. Theo wanted to cry from the release. He knew he was lucky that Fletcher was a better man than he actually thought himself to be because plenty of other men would have thrown more than just a punch at him.
His knees felt weak as he struggled back up to his feet to splash some cold water on his face. For a brief moment his thoughts drifted back to the door and had to forcefully shake his head to send them away. He did not need to be thinking about that right now, he really would cry if he did.
'It's fine. Everything's fine. You're fine. He's fine. All is fine. Everything's fine. Fine, fine, fine. Breathe. You're fine...it's fine.'
He audibly exhaled and rolled his neck feeling it crunch and pop as he did before heading for his door when he felt Fletcher's footsteps return. Theodore nodded at the other man as if checking they were both good, then allowed the perfect polite mask to fall back into place. He lead Fletcher down to the main dining room where the Baron and Baroness were already seated far apart on opposite ends of the table.
While Theo attempted to take his seat as quickly and discretely as possible, his father sighed while looking up from the morning reports at him with a disapproving glance.
"There you are Teddy! Where have you been? Our entire breakfast has gone cold waiting for you to come down in the last five minutes. Why can't you be more considerate? Your poor father is practically wasting away and will be late for his meeting with the ship captains at this rate."
"My apologies Mother. My apologies Father. I will be more punctual in the future," Theo directed to each of his parents as trays of food were finally brought in. For the Baron it was a plate of various breakfast meats, toast, and eggs that he did not even look up from what he was reading to begin eating. For the Baroness it was a bowl of boiled eggs that sent her screeching.
"I said I wanted one, four-minute egg not four, one-minute eggs and where in God's name is our bread?"
The servant quickly murmured an apology while whisking the food away. Meanwhile Theo was presented with literal trays of food that would have easily served the entire staff let alone one person. The was a resigned drooping of his shoulders as he took it all in knowing it was expected of him but that he would never be able to finish it all. He filled his plate modestly and did his best not to catch his mother's eye so he could eat in relative peace. The atmosphere around him was so different than the warmth Fletcher had gotten to experience earlier. Here there was only the cold, weight of failed expectations to sour the good food and mood.
Backed against the wall, hands clasped behind him again, Fletch had no choice but to watch the absurd spectacle that was breakfast. The extravagant spread of dishes didn't anger him like the basket had; it wasn't his food, after all. It was theirs. It did feel like a dream, though. Like he still wasn't meant to be here or see any of this. He found a fixed point to stare at on the palladian window opposite him and held his mouth as still as he could make it. It was one hell of a feat to bite back a grimace here or a smirk there whenever the woman squawked like the oversized bird that she was.
His eye wandered outward to the grounds beyond the window. He found himself wanting to do anything other than stand there silent and chew on his own thoughts. Some sparring, maybe, or to practice some riding. Even having that chat with the stablehand about Aya seemed like a better distraction than this. Babysitting indeed. Theo wasn't wrong, was he?
At the thought, the man came into focus. Fletch glanced between him and his mother, then to the Baron, then back to him. He was clearly miserable. Here, surrounded by obscene wealth, he couldn't have been more different than the man who smiled in the kitchen and laughed at Aya. It was something Fletch would never understand, just like Theo would never understand what the basket meant. Still a puzzle, Pretty Boy, he thought, and returned his attention to that spot on the window.
The meal passed in waves of cold silence and incessant nitpicking until finally the Baron excused himself, kissed his wife in passing, and retreated without so much as a word to his son. The Baroness continued her tyranny for several more minutes as her son ate incredibly slowly with his head down until she was finally done. She ruffled the boy's hair before shooting out of the room lamenting the lateness of the morning and all she still had to do.
Only then when finally alone with just the staff did Theo slump in his seat with a deep sigh. Two women hurried over to collect his trays of uneaten food, the elder scooting a few more eggs onto his plate pointedly before whisking it all away.
"Thank Kenna and give her my apologies please," he called after them before sitting up again to glower at his plate. "Did you get enough to eat this morning, Mr. Daw?"
Fletcher visibly relaxed as soon as the Baroness was out of sight — and out of earshot. He allowed himself a grimace and an eye roll at her before taking all other surroundings besides the window in again. The expression returned with a bit more bite when Pretty Boy asked if he'd eaten well. "Ate just fine," he replied, his brusqueness back now that the Baron and Baroness were gone. He eyed the eggs and his brow raised. "You know...Aya could help you with that. She's good at making problems disappear."
Theo winced as he understood the look and realized his own foolish mistake. The feelings of self-torment didn't last long though as Fletcher suggested an alternate solution. The nobleman immediately perked up, daring to almost smile. "What an excellent guard dog she makes then," he replied while motioning over one of the women to gather some of the meat and the rest of the eggs in brown paper so he could take it with him.
"Shall we pay her a visit before I must go into town for my duties?"
"Oh, thank fuck," he muttered to himself at the mention of going in to town. Anything to get out of this place and move a bit. He wondered in passing what Pretty Boy was doing there in the first place, and why it was allowed when his visit to the market wasn't. He supposed he'd find out along the way. "Dunno that I'd refer to her as excellent, but...should talk to your man Dewey about her anyways, before she sticks her nose in trouble," he agreed. He pushed from the wall and motioned with his head for Theo to come along. "After you, then, sir."
They made their way out the front to the stables, with Fletcher greeting his fellow guardsmen as he passed them. At the expense of Theo's ability to read him, he positioned himself between the man and the dog, wary of what she'd done to him last time. He turned just long enough to gesture for the packet of table scraps. "Give them here. I don't want a repeat incident."
Theo readily handed the parcel over, infinitely amused at Fletcher's protective stance against what was effectively an over-exuberant wolfdog. While Fletcher was left to deal with Aya, Theodore moved to the side to pet one of the barn cats that kept trying to bat at his head. The pair were soon greeted by a bright-eyed young man covered in hay and looking a bit breathless.
"Hiya, Mr. Theo...uh sir," Dewey greeted before noticing Fletcher and trying to be more professional without getting himself in trouble.
"It's alright Dewey, this is Mr. Jack Daw. Mr. Daw this our stablehand, Mr. Dewey Turnipseed. He's the one you'll be wanting to talk with regarding Aya's needs and training. He may be young but he has such a intuitive way with animals."
"Aw shucks, Mr. Theo," the lad said scratching at the back of his head looking shy and unsure before trying to remember himself and stand up straight and proper. "Uh your carriage is ready for you when you are sir. And oh thank you for the tonic. My sister's doing much better now."
"Glad to know it," Theodore replied warmly before turning to look up at Fletcher inquisitively. "Shall I leave you two to discuss things or do you need me here? There's a Miss Maple over there I'd like to have a word with otherwise."
The slightest hesitation flickered in his eye. "...Sure. Just...don't go far, sir. I'll meet you by the carriage." Fletch turned back to Dewey and extended a hand. "Just Jack's fine," he said with a grin that didn't quite erase how tired he was. He put his hands to his hips and cast a resigned look down at Aya. "Now. About this damned dog."
A few minutes later, the business of her training taken care of, he emerged and made for the carriage. "Another first, I suppose," he muttered as he approached the next display of wealth in what was sure to be a day full of them.
Theo nodded before moving ahead to talk to and pet one of the older horses near the back of the stable. Unable to hear the conversation, he simply enjoyed a peaceful moment with the sweet mare that was insistent upon dragging him in for a hug with her chin and keeping him close.
By the time Fletcher was finished, Theo's hair was unknowingly thoroughly mussed but he was quick to fall into step with the other man. "Mr. Daw will be riding inside with me. We have much to discuss on the way," he informed Orz before stepping in to face forward. Only once they were on their way did the nobleman fully slump back in his seat while rubbing at his head and eyes.
"I'm regretting making us both suffer last night. Is everything sorted then for Aya? Did she enjoy her holding breakfast?"
Fletcher snorted. "Hardly suffering." If falling asleep on a couch to the sound of a piano was suffering, he wondered what the man would make of the actual meaning of it. He crossed his legs and leaned back, absently poking at the seat cushion with a finger. He'd been in a cart and in a wagon, both times crammed in with too much cargo. He'd never been in a carriage that was meant just for people and their comfort. His gaze slid lazily from detail to detail before settling back on Pretty Boy.
"Much to discuss, ey?" he repeated before answering in earnest. "She'll be fine. I like Dewey. Seems honest. Good with horses. And...dog's smart. She just needs anyone other than me to sort out her attitude." He snorted again, this time with a hint of disdain. "Got it from him, I suppose," he added to himself, his lips barely moving to make the words. He frowned at the thought and met Theo's eye again. "You ever need to slide some leftovers off your plate and into your lap for her, she'll help you with the evidence. Girl eats like it's her last meal. Might shut up your mum, too, if you're a good enough sneak."
"I thought you could enjoy a bit of rest. If you'd rather walk I can stop it now though," he said his lip quirking slightly in contained jest.
"Dewey is a good sort." His eyes narrowed as he tried to catch the muttering before shaking his head. Best to leave that one alone. He'd been screamed at enough today and it wasn't even noon yet.
Theo hummed and nodded. "My mother feeds me as if I am an entire starving nation. It will be good to not feel ill from over eating at least. My only consolation over the waste of late has been that the majority has been salvaged for the staff or the animals. I know," he sighed, "poor rich boy. Sorry."
The nobleman pinched at his brow sighing again as he stretched his long legs out across the floor. "My one permitted freedom is that a few days a week I am allowed to take the carriage into the nice parts of town and tutor other rich children in piano in the music hall there. Except for midweek when I meant to be a humble soul that teaches the local orphans how to play." He grimaced at the mocking tone he had taken. "I find them to be far more delightful and talented if I'm being honest.
"At least you'll be able to smoke outside the room while you wait?"
Pretty Boy seemed a bit more relaxed, now. Fletch was surprised to find that he had much more of a sense of humor than he'd originally let on. He was cynical, too, in a way that felt a bit closer to comfort. A quiet unease still hung between them from their conversation that morning, but Fletcher's respect for the man had grown from it nonetheless. He wasn't a pushover. Not at all.
"Yeah, I suppose," he replied to the smoking comment. "Running a bit low, though. Need to stretch them out for now." His leg began to bounce up and down at the thought. His head felt strange, too. He wished he hadn't gone through so many, so fast, but he'd never been good at self-control with vices. Eager for a distraction, he peered out the window and watched the trees pass them by. And then it came to him.
"Alright." He leaned forward. His head spun again, and he made a face. It felt familiar, but he couldn't place it. Had he eaten something off for breakfast? "Answer me this," he continued. "You're out of prison several days a week. You clearly hate your life, which — " Fletcher grumbled and made a dismissive gesture. "Your only babysitter to date has been Mr. Three Hours up there. Why not run?"
Theo sputtered in confusion at the nickname. "Mr. Three Hours? Whaa--" he shook his head and waved a hand dismissing the importance of his own question. His expression became caged and he looked away to the window as he contemplated an answer. One hand formed into a tight fist at his side, the knuckles turning pure white with his grip before he relaxed and rested it open-palmed back on his knee, his face turning back to look at Fletcher.
"It is not a possibility for those that make deals with devils. As I will be busy teaching and have Mr. Orz with me, would you like to stop off and purchase yourself some more. I have coin if you require...floating."
It was a cryptic answer. Coupled with Theo's sudden tension, and the way he'd danced right around the subject and found a new one, Fletcher knew he'd struck a nerve. That kind of sly footwork was well familiar to him. It meant there were knots and tangles beneath the surface. He was too tired to pick at them now. He did, however, pocket it for later. "Huh. Devils. Sure," he replied, eyebrows raised at Theo's dramatics. "No. Best save your pity money for all those orphans," he added with a dark, humorless flash of a smirk. "'Scuse me, sir. I think I figured out what this is. Just knock on the roof if you need bodyguarding."
Fletcher scooted along the seat to the door and opened it to flap wildly back and forth. With one dirty boot on the seat cushion and both hands atop the carriage, he hoisted himself up like he'd done it a million times. Once he'd found his balance, he reached down and slammed the door shut again. "Ahoy," he called to Orz. "Joining you for a minute."
Theodore did not react to Fletcher's skepticism or goading. There was a dark seriousness and tension in his face right up until the moment Fletcher was suddenly making an exit coach left. "Hey! What are you doing?" the man squawked in panic. "You can't do that. Jack Daw you're going to get yourself killed!" The door slammed in his face as all he could do was glare up at the ceiling and kick the seat cushion he had formerly been sitting on. "Asshole," he muttered quietly under his breath.
Orz nearly jumped out of his skin at Fletcher's voice before laughing and patting the coach seat beside him. "Slide on down Jackieboy. Negotiations going poorly for you in there?" he teased, easing up on the reins to slow the horses enough for Fletcher to settle in easily. "I do not envy what you're about to endure, I'll tell ya that much. I thought it was bad enough sitting with the horses but I suppose bodyguarding requires a closer presence. Hope you brought cotton for your ears," he cackled.
He climbed up and slid over to plop down in the seat next to Orz. Already, the fresh air and the vantage point did wonders to quell his nausea. "Never thought I'd get seasick on land," he explained. "Oh, come off it. Can't be worse than Missus Archer shrieking day in and day out. One day and I'm already losing my mind when she's in the room. Like a throttled seagull trying to sing."
Orz cackled an ugly, throaty laugh in response. "You need cotton for that too. Half convinced the kid went deaf from her voice alone. That or he's one great pretender. Can you imagine? Going your whole life letting people think you can't hear shit just because you didn't wanna listen to your old lady squawk? Man maybe that's why I can't get a broad to stay. All I do is listen to her!"
"Just pay them the mermaid rate," Fletch countered with a chuckle. "She'll stick around for...what was your bollocks number at breakfast? Three hours? You've got to point her out to me, though, this mermaid. I've half a mind to see if she's real." He relaxed into an easy smile and leaned back a little. The familiarity of this kind of uncouth banter was a balm that eased the nerves. He hadn't realized it until that second that he'd been tense every moment since he'd arrived. And that, if anything, underscored his place in the world.
"She ain't, but she miiiighty pretty.~ I don't think any man could afford mermaid rates on the regular not even hoity-toity perfect angel back there. Y'know this is not my first fancy class job and lemme tell you the blockheads his age? Scandal, scandal, scandal. This one? Pfft! I'm not even sure he could navigate with a map! He's like one of those guys who's just so disgustingly perfect you know he's gotta be broken. There's something wrong. A wheel is loose in there, y'know?
Ah! Here we are," he declared as they rolled up. Orz smacked the side of the carriage twice to let Theo know it was safe to depart before nodding at Fletcher. "Ya gonna hang out here for a bit? I can't imagine too many unsavory folk wanting to steal him from in there, especially if you thought the Baroness sounded bad."
Orz looped back around to the topic of Pretty Boy again, but something about how he spoke rubbed Fletcher the wrong way. The Baroness was one thing, with how she treated the staff. But Theo? Sure, he was strange, and a bit mopey, but he was still...real. Not some stiff taxidermy stuffed with ego and lies, like so many of his kind. The more Orz yammered on, the darker Fletcher's expression became, until, when they stopped, he stood, turned to the man, and clapped a hand on his shoulder just a bit too roughly.
"You make a habit of ragging on the good ones, mate? Or are you only brave enough to run your mouth when it's about a man who can't fucking hear?" He patted Orz's shoulder twice more with enough force to drive the point home, shot him a look that threatened to cut his throat in his sleep, then jumped down to the street. "I'll take my chances down here, thanks."
Theo exited the carriage in time to see Orz's surprised face Fletcher jumping down to mention something about 'chances.' His brow furrowed in concern even as he glanced back to Orz before walking in with his bodyguard beside him. "You just make quick work of making friends left, right, and center here don't you?" he quipped, peeking at the other man hoping to have not managed to anger him for umpteenth time that day alone. The score was heavily not in his favor.
"What happened?" he asked more quietly as they stepped inside and he directed them to one of the backrooms.
He didn't acknowledge the jest as he followed Theo in wordlessly. Then Theo tried again, and Fletch met his gaze. Except for the twitch at the corner of his nostril, he'd contained the murderous look. "It's nothing," he said quietly. "Just a blowhard, that's all. Just not in the mood for it. Tell me where to wait, sir."
He completely deflated in the face of Fletcher's icy stare and clipped sentences. 'He's still furious with me. I just keep doing everything wrong with him. Why am I so damn stupid and oblivious?'
Theodore pursed his lips in irritation, his face dark with his own deep self-loathing as he wordlessly swept into his usual practice room. He whipped up a chair nearly banging it on the edge of the piano in his haste before moving past Fletcher and out the doorway to place it in the hall for him. "There's fine, or wherever you feel is best. I work in here. And my first student should be arriving--"
"You're late," a young voice sneered acidly.
The baron-to-be took a steadying breath before smiling and offering a graceful bow. "Viscount Clorek, my sincerest apologies for keeping you waiting. Right this way sir. We left off on Cjsorky, yes?" The mask was entirely back in place even as the boy continued to verbally snark and cut down on Theo. The closing door did little to mask the sound of his nasally voice or the wrong notes coming from the piano either over the next hour.
Orz wasn't wrong: the lessons were themselves a lesson in patience. He'd thought it would just be one, but then the next snotty little shitstain rolled up. And then the next. And the next. Each one in turn sneered down their noses at him with that all-too-familiar look like he was dung on the bottom of their fancy little shoes. By the fifth child, he'd had enough. If one more of them did that and then went in and made a racket like twenty cats fired out of a trebuchet and onto the keys, he'd lose it. Besides, it had been since before sunrise since he'd smoked, and if there was any moment that he needed one, it was right now. He stood irritably, marched back out, and promptly lit up. He took his time and savored the thing, pointedly ignoring Orz. After he'd dawdled all he could, he went back in, nerves calmed again, only to find that lessons were blessedly over. "You're a patient man, sir," he muttered to Theo as soon as the last brat was out of earshot.
"And a deaf one," Theo deadpanned back. "Did you still need to acquire more cigarettes? We're already late as it is. I cannot imagine being any later would harm me further at this point." The exhaustion from lack of sleep was starting to truly catch up with the man. It was as if with every wrong note his students had sucked his very soul from him. Theodore was drained and becoming more despondent by the second. "The sooner we leave the sooner we can get home and you can be done with me for the evening," he remarked while clambering back into the carriage allowing Fletcher to decide which was the lesser of two evils between himself and Orz.
Fletcher ran his thumb over the tin in his pocket and did some very disheartening math. He could last another day. It was four more days after that before he'd be paid. If he ran out, he'd be even more of a menace. It wasn't something he wanted Aneisha to see. He hopped into the carriage after Theo, self-disgust plain for having to ask. It took him a moment to work up the courage. "Okay. Alright. Yeah. I could use an advance." He couldn't quite meet the man's eye as he said it. He tried to laugh it off, but it came out weak. "Wouldn't be an issue if I was on my own, but I'm a ruddy disaster on the best of days. Wouldn't want to be in that house on my worst."
He glanced out the window and craned his neck. "I don't think this is the right neighborhood, though. You'd be really late. You sure that's a good idea?"
He shrugged. "You had to change the route home to minimize the risk of us being followed or detained. Who am I to say what that looks like? I think after the day you've had you've earned what brings you comfort. No point in us both being cranky sods."
Theo leaned back in his seat and fished out a small coin purse that he readily handed over to Fletcher. "Do I dare ask how badly the little monsters treated you?"
Fletch leaned back and arched a brow in admiration at the plan. "Well, you know how to sneak, I'll say that," he said. "I won't tell if you don't." His hand froze midway to the purse for a moment before he took it, and even when he did, he looked down at it with that same troubled expression. Then he cleared his throat, pocketed it, and faced Theo so he could read him. "And...thanks. Sir. You'll get it back at the end of the week."
He cracked a smile again as Theo mentioned the brats. "Nothing I couldn't handle. I think you got the worst of it...possible they were afraid of me." The way he looked, it was like he took it as a point of pride.
He tiredly watched his hesitation but had enough grace not to comment on it. Instead he stretched out as best as he could to get comfortable. "It's not like I don't know where you sleep," he mumbled to himself. "You'll want to tell Orz the change of plan before we end up halfway back home."
Theo blinked several times as Fletcher bragged almost about the kids being scared of him. For the life of him he couldn't see what the other man was describing. "Why would they be? Did you make rude gestures and call them inappropriate names?"
Fletcher grunted dismissively, displeased at the idea of interacting with Orz at the moment. He made for the door again, pausing to turn and flash a truly confused look at his charge. "Now, I know you're not blind," he replied before once more opening the door and using the seat cushion as a boost. "Oi! Market, first. Then home." He waited just long enough to confirm that Orz had heard him before swinging back into the carriage and shutting the door again. He scooted to the farthest corner and put his boots up in the seat facing him. "Prick," he muttered before addressing Theo again. "Frogs and raspberries, right? You want to help me find her something?"
Theo snorted and rested his head back. "No, but I also don't see all, especially not when I'm too busy bending and scraping to pretentious and overconfident eight year olds." His eyes slid down the length of Fletcher's legs all the way to his boots resting on the seat beside him before slowly and wordlessly raising his own to do the same. He pushed his shoulders back feeling his back crack, and then resettled into his new position.
"Does my bodyguard think it wise to set me loose undisguised and clearly so available for I'kanan theft?" he asked with a deep roll of his eyes that actually made him wince and rub his head. "Aye, I can help you if you wish. You seem to have better taste than I do though so I don't expect to be much help."
"Dunno that a maid's cloak would have saved you from them, either. They're smarter than that. Anyway, I'm the I'kanan in your mum's vivid imagination, and I haven't stolen you yet, so..." He shrugged and absently cracked his knuckles, then cast a sheepish glance at the scrapes on Theo's hands. He'd been so determined to play his piano last night in spite of them. And he'd done it again for lessons today without any complaint. "You don't have to. You can stay in the carriage if you think it's unwise, and I can find her something on my own time. Problem is, she'll probably hate it," he grinned. "D'you know it's been ages since I've bought a woman anything? Smoke and mirrors, sir. I don't know the first thing about it."
"You're the I'kanan? Oh, right. Don't worry about that. I leave the choice to you though. It's your job after all," he added a small smirk and shake of his head. "Ah, but you have bought something," Theo chuckled softly. He cut it off quickly though as if remembering himself and that he must behave. "I have no doubt she will love anything you give her even if it was the ugliest thing you could find holding together by a single thread and sheer will. That's just the kind of person Aneisha is."
Theodore grimaced and made a soft, displeased sound as he focused a firm gaze upon the other man. "Just, do not, and I mean do not hurt her. You can get into as many fights and drama with the other staff as you want and I will not interfere. But, she is a child and I aim to keep that way. Are we in agreement?"
For the briefest moment, Fletcher looked like he'd been slapped. He hadn't considered for a second that his brotherly fondness for the girl could be seen as anything other than it was. He released a long, slow sigh and seemed to deflate into the seat. It took him a while to find the words, and by the time he had, they'd nearly arrived at market. "Haven't seen my sisters in a good fifteen years," he said quietly. "Dunno if they're even alive, still, after..." He faded off and picked at his nails. "She's so much like Zoey, it's uncanny. All heart, you know? Just pure, bottled sunshine."
Fletch met Theo's gaze, serious and melancholy. "I'll not treat her any different than I'd treat Zoey, sir. Maybe I'm a rake, but I'm not that. But...understood. I'll make some distance so it's clear. I'll just pop out to get the smokes. Won't be long."
His gaze softened in understand before he was shaking his head hard. "I'm sure Zoey deserves nice things too. Treat Aneisha if you wish, I will not force you. I'm just asking you to use all those many words you have in you to make it clear to her too. She's been through enough, but an older brother would likely be a welcome balm. Your reaction alone tells me how much better the world would be as a place if we all had older brothers like you.
"Come, I could do with fresh air," he commented stepping out of the carriage and into the street without even waiting for Fletcher to follow.
Theo wished he could make himself disappear. He saw the curious stares and moving lips as people whispered about the presence of a well-dressed noble among their masses. He hated it. He hated how lonely it felt in a crowd. He hated how he always knew what they were saying. He hated how much he loved this place place with its sights and smells. He hated how much it reminded him of him.
Still he walked forward in long aimless strides like a horse that saw the gate to open pasture ahead and was just barely containing itself from bolting ahead. Theo just wanted to run. A flash of green caught his eye and he suddenly came to a halt, head turning to land on a familiar stall. The vendor greeted him enthusiastically and had already begun to try and upsell his wares but Theo only had eyes for a small music box no bigger than the palm of his hand. Plucking it up he ran his thumb over the smooth wood contemplatively before opening it and winding the crank with a finger. He could see the crank reverse its turning as it played and feel the tinny vibrations in his palm but it was a beat he could not recognize to a song he could not hear.
He closed it gently, replacing it on the table while offering a tight smile and nod to the vendor. Turning to Fletcher he apologized, "sorry, I got distracted. What you're looking for should be this way, yes?"
Fletch hopped out of the carriage and followed his charge. It was an easier feat than when he'd chased the dealer yesterday, but not by much. The man had longer legs than he did, for one — like a flighty deer, almost, weaving erratically this way and that. But Fletcher kept apace and remained within tackling distance at all times. He stopped behind Theo and waited wordlessly as the man indulged in the distraction of a music box. "Just smokes, sir," he repeated, and jerked his head towards a dingy shop tucked back in a nearby alley. "You sure you don't want to wait in the carriage for this? It's not exactly glamorous."
"I know the place," he replied quietly with an underlying tone of perhaps bitterness. Theodore walked in with Fletcher, abandoning the man to get what he needed while making a beeline for the back wall. While his bodyguard was busy paying at the counter, the nobleman snatched a pouch off the wall and walked over to join them. Carelessly, he tossed the little black bag onto the counter, refusing to even look at the shopkeeper whose eyes lit up in recognition. "This too," he commanded gruffly, blatantly ignoring the grizzled man's attempts to catch his attention by clapping his palm on the counter. Theo turned his back on the pair, leaning on the counter and watching the door while he waited for Fletcher to finish up, every line of his body tensed despite his seemingly relaxed pose.
The scent of tobacco, liquor, and other, darker vices wafted out into the alley as he opened the door. Now there was a place he felt right at home: just as much grit and underbelly as he was. But he wasn't here to bask in it. They were on a schedule. As he gave his order to the shopkeep, Fletcher kept his eye on Theo. He wasn't lying: he did know the place. He didn't seem happy about it, though. More like...on edge. Well. Fletch supposed that any noble should watch his back in a seedy establishment. But then the shopkeep seemed to recognize him, going so far as to try to catch his attention.
"Some papers, too," Fletch reminded him while eyeing the little black bag on the counter. It had hit the wood like there was something hard in it. He wondered what it could be, and why Pretty Boy wanted it. He supposed it wasn't any of his business.
One packet of cheap tobacco and a stack of papers in hand, Fletch paid for them both with Theo's coin, then shook the purse at him to take the change back. "The less I owe you, the better," he said. "Come on. We should be getting you home before I'm tried and hanged for endangering a noble."
Theodore took the pouch gently from him before swiping his purchased pouch off the counter and leaving without so much as a word to either man. He strode with purpose his face a dark storm cloud until he was inside the carriage. The man wedged himself into the corner of his seat, dragging his legs up into his chest to form an oversized ball. Eyes and fists squeezed tight, he fought to control his breathing that hissed from his lungs in short, stuttering puffs. When he finally unclenched his hands they shook strongly with tremors and he was pale and clammy to the touch.
"I'm ready to go home now," he whispered without opening his eyes, too upset and too ashamed to face Fletcher's judging eyes.
He should have been too tired to want to put the puzzle together, but it was right there in front of him, and Theo's sudden intensity made it difficult to ignore. No running, he thought, but you've been here before. He watched the nobleman, expression quiet and guarded, but never critical or mean. When Theo asked to go home, he nodded wordlessly and swung briefly out the door to tell Orz, then sat back down where he was and clasped his hands in his lap. He developed a sudden, keen interest in all that passed by the window, and even though the blurring shapes of people and buildings and horses and trees made him ill again, he allowed the man his privacy.
The rocking movement of the carriage was soothing and bit by bit Theodore's breath evened and quieted, his shaking stilled, and he unfurled to sit properly on the seat facing forward. He righted his clothes and sat up straight noting that they were nearly there and yet he couldn't find the right words to say. How did one navigate someone who didn't like you, seeing you absolutely vulnerable, and behaving like a good human about it? Or maybe Fletcher hadn't and Theo had just not heard any of it. He honestly would rather believe that the man had behaved well. He was just far too tired to bear the weight of more rumors going around for the next few weeks.
By the time they pulled into the carriage house though, he still didn't know what to say but at least he was more composed. Theo slipped quietly from the carriage, the bag clenched tightly in his palm. He walked through the stable without a word to anyone, even ignoring Aya as she moved to follow close behind him.
"Oh," he finally stopped and turned in the doorway to the house. "I'm going to retire until dinner. If you wish a break, you're more than welcome to take it Mr. Daw. Thank you for your patience and work today."
Time passed at a glacial pace. During the day, it seemed almost to stand still, with the silence spanning a maddening eternity in between each ticking second. Theo's routine was the same, week over week, month over month, and so was Fletcher's, too. The entire house was a clock. A machine, with all of its parts whirling around each other, seemingly devoid of purpose but to keep the time.
He began to grow agitated. It wasn't in the sense that he was before, where he felt like a dirty outsider in a pristine castle. No. That he grew used to, trading all of this life's associated comforts for every ounce of self-control that he could muster. No, it was the sameness of it. There wasn't any danger, here. No adventure. Sure, the staff went out to see the festivals, and he'd found himself a brothel for when he needed to blow off steam, and he and his fellow guards sparred on the regular. But the only real excitement he managed to drum up was in his off hours, when he'd head into town by himself to keep listening for that opium distributor. And that felt like scraps to him.
To his dismay, it began to grow colder, marking the changing of the seasons and heralding his least favorite of them. His coat was now just barely enough, and soon it wouldn't be. He'd scraped together enough coin to buy a hat, but it was only a temporary solution. Yet, much as he hated shivering and chattering in the crisp autumn air, today was sparring day, and after that, he'd promised Aneisha that he'd teach her how to be a real pirate. The girl still didn't seem to grasp that he'd once been an actual criminal, but maybe that was better for everyone not to know.
He'd dug two sticks out of the firewood shed and tossed one to her. His real rapier remained secured at his side. No sense in putting her in actual danger. Brandishing his stick, he adopted the stance that Roland had taught him all those years ago. "Right. You ready? Hold it like I showed you. Bend your knee. There you go. Well? En garde. Show me what you've got, Captain Neish."
Aneisha was practically vibrating with excitement as she took the practiced stance, Fletcher had taught her. Her skirt was tucked up into her waistband for easier movement as when they first started their games she had fallen flat on her face from treading on the hem. She loosed a soft war-cry, ever mindful of the grounds she was on as she immediately abandoned all her lessons and leaped at the taller man with a fury of blows.
Theodore for his part shook his head in amusement before pretending to return to his book. A bench has been added to Fletcher's favorite smoking spot and Theo had come to enjoy spending his bodyguard's sparring moments in quiet observation. At first it had started with him sitting at his desk and trying to peer through his balcony window for a fleeting glimpse before graduating to find every excuse to be on the balcony itself to watch. His current excuse now was that with the colder months on the horizon it was best for him to get out as much as possible before snow came and his mother had him trapped for the winter indoors.
They had already been outside for quite some time and the nobleman was still on the same page he had been two weeks ago. It was simultaneously a very fascinating and frustrating phenomenon. While Theodore had found a balance in existing beside his bodyguard, he found that the other man truly began to come to life in the moments where Theo was the least involved. From the aggressive fire in sparring with the other guards to the mischievous gentleness that came with playing with and teasing Aneisha, Fletcher seemed to be the most at peace when Theo was as uninvolved as possible. And yet, the nobleman could not stop himself from wanting to be near him. To be in the presence of a man who had repeatedly shown he could actually see Theodore instead of the doll everyone wanted him to be. He knew he shouldn't get close, shouldn't allow himself to get attached and yet like a moth to the flame he craved to be included and accepted.
"...yield ye scurvy dog!" Aneisha shouted, breaking Theo from his thoughts, as he caught her go tumbling by. He closed the book, giving up on reading in favor of leaning back against the tree to watch.
He hadn't actually intended to go easy on her, but his heel caught a bump in the grass, and the clever girl took advantage of it. Before he knew it, Fletcher had fallen into the cold, wet grass, and Aneisha's stick wobbled near his throat. He burst out in earnest laughter, tossed his stick aside, and held his hands up. "I yield, I yield," he exclaimed. "You're a little menace when you get into it, aren't you? No need for me to protect you from the boys, after all. Come on. Help an old man up."
Fletcher got to his feet and brushed himself off, then hunched his shoulders against the chill as he grinned down at the girl who'd become family. "Well, what do you think? Should next week be climbing the mast? We could find a good tree." He glanced up at Pretty Boy: a quiet, watchful ghost, as usual. He seemed to have given up on reading for the time being...though Fletch thought that 'reading' was a strong word for a man who kept a book open for show. "Think he wants some pirate lessons?" he asked Aneisha.
Aneisha helped him to his feet and gave him a tight side hug. "Going to have to protect the boys from me!" She pulled away, holding her arms out before spinning in circles with her head back. "Oh can we really?" Aneisha wobbled on her feet but stared up at him with bright, hopeful eyes. "The trees we had back home were too thin and bendy for climbing. If you tried they would snap. We'll need some good rope though too. For the swinging right?"
Her gaze followed Fletcher's to where Theo sat failing to act like he wasn't staring at them and a wide grin threatened to split her face in half. Turning her back so that the Young Master could not read her, Aneisha tugged on Fletcher's coat, coaxing him down to whisper in his ear. "Let's get him. We can take him, two against one! He'll never know what hit him! Please please please~?"
Fletch turned his face away from Theo and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I dunno. He looks tough. You're the captain, Neish. You take the lead." He bent and grabbed his discarded stick, and then they were off, charging towards the nobleman and yelling like barbarian raiders. He half wondered if the Baroness would come flying out the front door thinking that the I'kanans were here to steal her son at last, but at that particular moment, he didn't give a rat's ass about propriety. Not that he usually did.
With his stick pointed at Theo's heart and Aneisha's at his neck, they held the nobleman "captive" to their demands. He couldn't keep a straight face about any of it. "Well, mate? We have you surrounded. I wouldn't cross the Captain, if I were you. So...surrender the booty," he snickered.
Theo's eyes bugged out as they charged him. He had enough time to drop his book and raise his hands in surrender. "Oh please have mercy on me gentle captain, I am but a poor son and have no treasure to hand over."
"Never!" Capatin Neish crowed, swinging her stick across her body to potentially truly club the nobleman. Theo squeaked, smacking Fletcher's stick away from his chest as he attempted to duck away from Aneisha's swing. Only semi-successful he ended up roll flopping off the bench and needing to undignified crawl back onto his feet. The scullery maid was hot on his heels, wapping at his legs and rear until his longer strides took him out of her range.
"Where's a bodyguard when you need one?" he laughed. "Fools! Is this what you're seeking?" he called holding the black bag he'd purchased months before with Fletcher. "A word to the wise, some treasures are too dangerous to seek. Do you still dare?"
Fletch let Theo worm his way out of their fake pirate grasp and gave him a healthy head start. He hadn't intended on pursuing the man at all, actually. Between sparring and running around with Aneisha, his legs had begun to tire out, and the cold wasn't doing any favors to his lungs. Then Theo dangled something familiar as a prize and lit a fire under him again. "Bodyguard mutinied," he called, "on account of a certain nobleman torturing him with so many piano lessons. Now he's out for revenge." With a determined glint in his eye, he tossed the stick again and took off after the man. "Better run faster, sir," he taunted as he began to gain on him. "Captain Neish takes no prisoners."
"Noooo," Theo wheezed. Trying to run faster while simultaneously looking back over his shoulder however proved his downfall as one minute he was pumping his legs faster and laughing and the next he was ass over head, violently summersaulting across the grounds before sprawling in a heap on his back. While he sat back up soon after being stunned, the bag had flown out of his hand during the tumble and been cast out somewhere in the lawn.
Theodore looked about frantically for the discarded item even as Fletcher closed in on him. A scrap of black caught his attention to his right and the nobleman without a care for his attire lunged and dived for the bag hoping to claim it before his mutinying bodyguard and his bloodthirsty lady captain.
Theo made a good chase out of it, and for a moment, Fletch wondered if he could actually catch the man. It didn't bode well for his own job if he couldn't. Then Theo tripped and went tumbling, a jumble of arms and legs, and landed flat on his back. He could have broken something. At the least, he'd have scrapes and bruises. "Shit," Fletch muttered. His grin dropped in an instant as he hoofed it to catch up. "Sir! You alright — "
But Theo was fine. Or rather, he was fine enough to keep up the game, seeing as how he scrambled for the bag that he'd dropped along the way. "Oh, no you don't," Fletch wheezed, and dove for it at the same instant. He just barely managed to snatch it out from under the nobleman's hand, and with a roguish grin, he rolled away. "Oi! Aneisha! Catch!"
Their treasure captured and safely out of reach, he sat up and tried to catch his breath, coughing into his sleeve. "Fuck, I need to quit," he muttered as he turned to face Theo. "Some good I am, if I can hardly catch you."
Theo attempted to grapple for it, dragging himself through the grass towards Fletcher but quickly stopped as the other man tried to catch his breath. "You're plenty good," he replied, rolling over to flop on his back beside his bodyguard. "I only manage short bursts. If I hadn't wiped out you would have gotten there first." The nobleman closed his eyes and took slow deep breaths. "The sun feels warm and nice," he murmured softly, not realizing it had even been said aloud.
"Sorry the fun ended early," Theo continued opening his eyes again to look up at Fletcher. "What you get for letting rich nobles join in and poison the well."
He sat up and motioned Aneisha closer, calling for her to bring the bag. "Would you care to see what treasure you slayed a helpless civilian for?"
Fletch scoffed at this latest bout of self pity. "Bit of a crock of shit, sir," he replied. "You gave us a workout. Neish's happy — look at her." He paused to cough into his sleeve again, habitually checking it for blood that he hadn't seen in years. Nothing. He was still good. He really had to quit, though, if only for his wallet. Eager to think about something else, he cast a mischievous look at Theo. "Besides. A little exercise beats sitting there pretending to read."
As Aneisha approached, he eyed the bag. He had to admit he'd been curious, especially given that his charge had known a shop that he shouldn't have. But he'd assumed it was a private matter, and, like wondering why Theo wouldn't run, he'd left it well alone. "Sure," he replied hesitantly. "Let's see the big secret."
Theodore blushed deeply at being called out for his slow reading, the red reaching all the way to the tips of his ears as he ducked his head and refused to look at Fletcher. "It's not pretending," he mumbled, accepting the pouch from Aneisha and fumbling with the ties some.
Reaching in he retrieved a thin, curved metal semi-circle band like a wide bracelet with smooth edges. However, as he cupped the metal in his hand like a ball, the negative space filled with a shimmering green and yellow light that seemed to vibrate and shift as he turned it this way and that for them to see. Placing it in Aneisha's hand he instructed her to throw it as hard and far as she could.
The girl looked back and forth between the 'ball' and both men before shrugging and doing as she was told. The metal sailed across the lawn as the light within burst out of it and landed at their feet in the form of a cute and small fox-like spirit. The being danced around in circles around their feet before bounding off to collect the metal band and bring it back to drop at the girl's feet.
It was an interesting enough little trick, but it gave him far more questions than answers. After all, Theo wouldn't have bought the thing in such a mood if it had no meaning. Fletch watched Aneisha beam with delight as the spirit danced. "You can't show her a thing like that without giving it to her, you know," he murmured to him.
Theodore nodded after so slightly in agreement as he took Aneisha's stick and showed her how to press the 'ball' to the stick until it stayed and then throw the stuck, prompting the being to zoom off and bring back the stick excitedly hoping for it to be tossed again.
"Are you watching, Jack? Look, look!" Aneisha tossed the stick so far it went over the fence and the spirit raced off after it. "Isn't it so cool?"
"Captain Neish why don't you get Aya and the three of you play with it. It's yours now but just remember to be gentle with the orb. It's a real being after all."
The scullery maid gasped and lifted ball, running over to tackle Theodore in a hug. "Oh thank you Teddy! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She did not stay long though as she went tearing off, tossing the ball ahead of her before racing the spirit to collect it first.
With her out of earshot, the nobleman sighed and leaned back on his hands. "I feel like a horse and carriage ran me over full speed. Know anything about that, Mutiny Jack?"
"Mutiny Jack? What's that make you?" he laughed. "Fell full on my arse when she disarmed me. It'll leave a bruise, that's for bloody certain. Won't be able to sit down right for a week." Fletcher smiled across the lawn at the girl as she ran off to fetch Aya. Then he remembered. "Erm...shit...sir, I've been neglecting my own duties. You alright? Ruined clothes aside, that is?" As they sat there, the chill grass seemed to sap the heat right out of him. Fletcher shivered and crossed his arms, hunching over again to keep warm. It did nothing to help. Grumbling and wincing, he picked himself up off the ground and brushed himself off. When he looked down at Theo, he almost seemed embarrassed. "I...think I need to go warm up for a minute. Still not used to how cold it gets here. Give you a hand up?" He extended his arm to help his charge off the grass.
"Tyrant Theo," he snorted, accepting Fletcher's hand up. "Poor Mr. Daw, need a nanny to kiss the booboo better for you?" His jesting expression faltered a bit at mention of going inside but he forced the corners of his mouth up into a grin and nodded. "Let's get you a cup of dirt water you claim is coffee and warm you up. Oh! My book!" Theodore jogged back to collect it before returning and tugging on Fletcher's sleeve to pull him back to the kitchen.
"Perhaps you should initiate the other guards into Aneisha training. If a young girl can knock you on your rear the lot of you may need better training in the event of a small child attack."
Fletcher coughed, this time in response to Theo's tone. He adopted a look of mock concern. "Thought I was supposed to be the one kissing your arse, sir, not the other way around. Bit scandalous of you. What would mummy dearest think?" He perked up at the mention of coffee, and waited patiently for the man to return with his book in hand. "Alright, alright, I'm going. No need to drag me."
Fletcher stomped his boots off and gave his coat a hefty shake out before so much as opening the door to the servant's entrance. He'd been trained to — he'd lost track of the number of times he'd been yelled right back out that same door by the cook when she saw the mud on him. "You don't have to come with," he said offhandedly as he stepped in. "I'm not about to cut short your time in the sun, you know."
"That you're doing a terrible job," he quipped back without missing a single beat as he joined him in brushing off as much mud as possible. Upon entering Kenna squinted and pointed her knife warningly at Theodore before motioning the lone chair he was allowed to be in if seeking refuge among her pots and pans.
"How generous of you, Mr. Daw, to give me such a headstart as I run off into oblivion while you warm yourself by the fire with your liquid mud. No, I think it's better for your job if I behave and read my book right here within your line of sight."
"And she'd be right." Fletch nodded to Kenna and gave both her and her knife a wide berth as he dug around for what he needed, looking rather like a half-awake raccoon mid-pilfer. With every clumsy movement, clatter of metal on ceramic, and haphazardly tossed implement, the cook's scowl deepened. He ignored her menacing presence, but the mirth in his good eye gave away how much he loved getting a rise out of her. Finally, he set the kettle on and turned to ask a question burned into him from years of habit. "Tea?"
Fletch's face fell a little after he'd said it, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot. He crossed his arms and leaned over the cooking fire in an effort to melt the chill faster. "Must be some chapter," he teased again. "You actually going to read it this time, or...?"
He lit up in surprise at being asked if he wanted tea and had just been about to reply enthusiastically when he saw memory catch up and bite the man in the heart. Blinking and looking to the side as if to pretend he hadn't seen it, Theo replied politely in the affirmative.
"I have been reading it," the nobleman protested fussily. "See," he pointedly held the book up to show his progress. "I didn't just spontaneously open to this page and decide yes this is where I will pause to appear like I am very busy." Theodore pouted and mumbled lowly, "not my fault there's so many distractions."
"Oh, sure, sure, my mistake, sir," Fletch smirked. "Not my place to tell you not to stare at one word for a whole afternoon." He turned and dug around in a cabinet and produced two chipped, stained mugs. They were clearly not for a noble's use, but he'd learned over time that Theo didn't seem to mind when things weren't perfect. He set them down with a raucous clunk.
"Mr. Daw!" Kenna exclaimed. "Really!"
"Yep, sorry, Kenna. Won't happen again." He turned his back to her to hide his snicker, then got to work on the tea and coffee. A few minutes later, he set the steaming cup in front of Theo and plopped unceremoniously onto one of the benches. "You sit where all the action happens," he continued. "'Course it's distracting. If you want to look busy, though, I'm sure your mum wouldn't mind if we showed you around a sword."
Theodore giggled as Fletcher got himself in trouble and pulled his legs up into his chair under him. The cup of tea was well received and immediately pressed close against his cheeks to warm his face.
"I will place my coin on 'it's too dangerous for my baby to be around such sharp objects' followed by 'training swords will give him splinters' if you want to be the one brave enough to suggest it. I wanted to learn archery as a child and she insisted I would manage to shoot my own eye out placing the arrow on the string.
"Kenna are there any cookies leftover from Mother's tea the other day?"
"No, Master Theodore but I can make you some right now if you'd like."
"Oh, no no that's fine. Please no trouble Kenna I know you're busy on dinner for tonight. Thank you though."
The cook gave him a pointed look before sighing and pulling down a tin and placing it on the table. Opening it revealed several cakey chocolate squares. A hard clap on Fletcher's shoulder and a squeeze was the silent warning he got to behave himself. "Here Master Theodore. Try these instead. And see if you can keep your bodyguard over here from going hogwild. I've been saving these for Orz's birthday this week."
The nobleman bit his lip while moving over to sit on the bench beside Fletcher and picked up the smallest square for himself. He broke it in half and slid the larger half over to the other man all while pretending that Kenna wasn't watching him do it with a roll of her eyes. "Children all of you."
"Archery, ey? Can't help you there." Fletcher tapped the eyepatch before continuing. "Could always time it just right so she never finds out. You seemed like today did you some good. 'Sides, how else are you supposed to run off into oblivion if you don't practice a bit?"
He sipped his coffee, grateful for the warm up. When Kenna set the tin down, he peered in curiously. "For Orz?" he asked. "So they're free game, then?" The cook pushed the back of his head for an answer, and he about spat his coffee out from trying not to laugh. He did give Theo an odd look though as the man sat down beside him and offered him a piece. "Just eat the damned cookie, sir. I'm trying not to get murdered, here. Besides, they look a bit like — "
"Mr. Daw!"
"Yep, sorry Kenna." He nursed his coffee instead and picked at the chip on the handle with his nail. The stuff always made him feel stuck in one place with too much fire in him. Coupled with actually being stuck in one place, it made him antsy. His leg began to bounce again beneath the table. "Anything coming up on the agenda, sir?" he asked. "Bollocks social events, eligible women calling, or otherwise?"
"There will be no running into oblivion, Mr. Daw." The brownie tasted like sawdust in Theo's mouth. It was not that Kenna had failed in her baking, the treats were decadent and must have cost the staff a fortune to scrape the ingredients together. But, the constant reminders of the nobleman's proverbial cage just made him want to sink into the bottom of his teacup and drown.
The mention of the agenda made him sigh and close his book, entirely giving up on reading for the time being. "Yes, there's a Lady Obower coming for courting discussions this afternoon. And then this evening Mother has invited some distinguished guests to discuss the organization of the upcoming debutante ball for eligible young ladies of which I am meant to attend as an eligible bachelor. Mother is also likely to instruct you to not allow me to slink off like last week's ball where I deplorably managed to avoid any and all dancing."
"Eugh." He almost wished he hadn't asked. The way Theo put things, it sounded more like he was preparing for the gallows than going to a party and talking to women. Fletch held back the question he always did: the obvious one that he knew he shouldn't ask. The more he'd gotten to know Theo, the more he got the impression that the man had a revulsion towards anything to do with women. But he couldn't quite grasp why Theo would choose to prolong this stage of the suffering when he could end it in a season by settling down. The tension in the house would certainly ease. It was obvious by the conversations he'd caught between the Baron and Baroness that they grew anxious for an heir. So why not just find a wife, pop one out, and be done with it?
He sighed and upended his mug. "I'll try to find a way to conveniently forget that mandate, then," he replied with a cheeky cock of the head.
"What going to dance with me yourself? he snorted. "Somehow I think that would be infinitely worse." Theo stood up, downing his tea as he did before taking his remaining brownie half and dropping it into Fletcher's coffee dregs. "Eat something before you propel yourself through the floor with all your bouncing please.
"Thank you for the treat, Kenna. I'm afraid I must now drag Mr. Daw away." So saying, Theo lightly pinched the other man's eat and gave it playful tug as he got off the bench himself. "You Mr. Daw still need to get into your 'respectable people clothes' instead of your 'I roll in the mud with the dogs clothes' before we both end up holding yarn all night."
"Sure," Fletch countered. "I'll step on your toes for a few minutes, if you're asking. Can't quite fit in a dress, though, so you might have to be the one to." He scrunched up his nose at the brown lump at the bottom of the mug. "Well now it just looks more like — "
He deserved the whack to the back of the head that Kenna delivered, but it was well worth it. He wasn't sure he deserved being pulled by his ear like a naughty child, but he didn't have the balls to slap the nobleman's hand away in front of the cook. "Just put a collar and a leash on me at this point," he complained as he scrambled to his feet. He carefully pried Theo's fingers off and began to clear the table. "They're all rolling in the mud clothes, sir. That's the point. And speak for yourself. You've got stains front and back. Thanks, Kenna," he added with a quick wave, then disappeared back up into the house. Theo was right: the both of them looked downright disheveled from earlier, and he doubted Lady What's-Her-Name would be thrilled with that, let alone the Baroness.
Two Baroness-free flights of stairs later, he split off from Theo and made for his own door to try to scrub some of the dog mud off by the afternoon.
Theodore quickly let go of Fletcher's ear with minimal actual prying needed as it was all for show rather than actual displeasure. But, the other man was right. He too was caked in mud and in desperate need of a bath and a change of clothes. Yet, even as they managed to escape his mother's watchful gaze, the nobleman found himself hesitating at his own door. He was finding more and more that as Fletcher occupied so much of his waking hours, he was struggling even harder with the hours he was left to his own thoughts.
"Mr. Daw, when you're done cleaning up would you be so kind as to come keep me company after? I find I am not in the mood to join the Baroness's domain quite yet."
Too embarrassed at his ask, Theodore did not even wait to see Fletcher's response before popping into his room quickly. Where his bodyguard would likely struggle with limited bathing facilities access in his own quarters unless he used the communal servant ones, Theo had an entire bathroom complete with a state-of-the-art magically filling bathtub all to himself. Once divested of his clothes he eagerly sank beneath the warm water and blue bubbles, allowing the heat to sink into aching and tensed muscles. Deep inside he wished he could stay in the tub forever and avoid the entire rest of the day's activities but no one need to tell him that the Baroness would never allow it.
Fletch lingered just long enough to shoot the man a bewildered look. Surely anyone else was better company? He didn't think Pretty Boy wanted him around so much as tolerated him as a jailor he could banter with from behind bars. "Erm...sure," he replied, but by then, Theo had already ducked into his room. So he shrugged, sighed, and returned to his own.
As usual, he did a half-assed job of cleaning up after sparring. Miss Priss or whatever her name was — Pretty Boy's caller — wouldn't be looking at him, anyways, so there was little point. Theo had ordered him to change, though, so he dug out a shirt and trousers that somehow weren't dirt-stained and pulled them on. On his way out, he grabbed an old breakfast roll and shoved it in his pocket. Theo had been right, after all: he needed more in him than coffee, or he'd be sick.
He knocked. No answer. Usually, if the man was in the main room, he'd feel the knock and say something, but there was nothing. Fletcher knocked again, but still...nothing. He briefly wondered if Pretty Boy had finally taken off over the balcony, but in broad daylight? Still, he had to check.
Fletcher stepped in and shut the door behind him, then turned to survey the empty room. "Sir?" he called — stupid, really, given the man's condition, but... He moved further, careful not to knock anything over, searching for traces of his charge.
In his infinite wisdom, Theo had completely forgotten that while in the bathtub he would not be able to feel or hear someone knocking on the door or entering. He took his time scrubbing up and relaxing before finally, reluctantly exiting to rejoin reality.
He patted himself dry with a towel and was using it to dry his hair when he came around the privacy screen that separated his bathroom from his room stark naked. Theo removed the towel from his hair and stretched both arms high above his head when he suddenly noticed that he was not alone. A high-pitched strangled sound escaped him like a wounded beast realizing death was imminent as he hurried to yank the towel back down to cover himself modestly and fumble backwards to get behind the screen again. His entire face and chest bloomed crimson in his embarrassment and shame.
"Sweet Frysh I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry! I didn't mean to do that to you. I forgot about the door. Oh gods I'm such an idiot," he lamented into his hands once out of sight. "Can you toss me my clothes in the bed? I'm so sorry. That was absolutely abhorrent of me. I wasn't trying to take advantage of you I swear. I'm so sorry!"
"Whoa, hey!" He held a hand out and stumbled back a step before turning around to give Theo some privacy. He blinked away what he'd just seen, ears and neck prickling as they flushed. Had he not spent the last decade with a man who was prone to doing the same thing without shame, Fletcher thought that this might have bothered him quite a bit more. As it was, he was just a bit caught off guard. "Bed. Right," he repeated, and went to retrieve the man's clothes. When he came back, he shook them around the side of the screen to catch Theo's attention.
The clothes were immediately plucked from his hand and donned as fast as he could. Poor Theodore was beside himself with humiliation and anxiety. What if Fletcher thought he did that on purpose? What if the man thought he was abusing their power dynamic to expose himself for his own amusement? He had invited him over after to his room after all. And left the door open. And walked out naked without a care in the world. He was sure the man would just be even more disgusted with him if he ever learned of Theo's tastes in men.
A thick frog lodged itself in his throat as he straightened his clothes and tried to compose himself. How could he face him? What would he see from the other man? Disgust? Amusement? Ridicule? Anger? Theo shook like a leaf. This was not the first time he'd been caught in a compromising position and while this was nowhere near as bad as the first he'd be lying if he said he wasn't afraid. Still he needed to face Fletcher at some point.
"I am so, so sorry Mr. Daw," he continued to apologize as he stepped out from behind the screen. "I'm fully clothed you can look now. I really didn't mean to I just," his voice cracked as his lip wobbled and tears filled his eyes. He swallowed hard, fighting his own shameful embarrassment with a deep red face. "I'm such an idiot. You'd think after 25 years I'd remember I can't hear a door open. I completely understand if you wish to quit after such a grotesque display."
He turned his back again and walked a few paces away to give Theo some room while he dressed. After the initial surprise, he'd started to chuckle a little bit. The man was so flustered. Well, maybe Fletch was a bit flustered, too, but not enough to panic quite like that. When he finally turned, he still showed the faintest glimmer of amusement, but it dropped like a stone when he realized how serious Theo was. How much he was actually panicking.
"Wait. What? Quit? Why would I quit? It's an honest mistake, sir. And...frankly..." He coughed into his fist. "Not my first go around by a long shot. I mean it, I'm not bothered. Just warn a man next time, yeah?"
Theo nodded and ran his hand over his face trying to reground and regroup himself. "Just don't want you thinking I go around exposing myself to the staff on purpose for the thrill of having more rank than them or some asinine reason. That's not the kind of man I am. Not at all," he shook his head firmly while motioning Fletcher to take a seat as he himself collapsed into one.
After a moment when he was feeling more secure that he wasn't about to have to fend off flying fists or fiery words, the nobleman looked up with a bit of mischief dancing in his hazel eyes. "Warn a man? Shouldn't I be saying the same to you? Did you even knock?" His lips quirked as he fought a giggle and to hide his humor behind his hand.
"No, sir, I forgot to. Was too keen for the peep show." He flopped down on the seat he'd been directed to and slumped into it in a display of weary unprofessionalism. "Known you long enough now to know that's not you. Orz, maybe," he muttered before cocking his head and spreading his arms like a challenge. "Besides, unless we start training you up, I'm not worried. Just try it."
Fletcher dropped the mocking stance and shoved a hand into his pocket to retrieve the breakfast bun. He gestured at Theo with it before taking a bite. "Word of advice, though: if you're going to lie about your age to me, at least aim a little closer to believable. Call me a cunt but I'm not seeing 25."
"I always knew that initial tackle was because you just couldn't resist all of this," he teased sweeping a hand over his front before rolling his eyes and shaking his head. Theo could not help though eyeing Fletcher up and down as he issued the mock challenge. There was no chance in Frysh's fire that he would ever best the other man but those long legs and broad chest certainly made the nobleman want to die trying. He blinked, looking a bit pink as he forced those thoughts to bury back deep beneath his stony heart where they belonged.
He was saved from dwelling though as Fletcher completely confused him and he wracked his brain to try and understand where the man got his age so wrong from. "Well you are a c--kook because I never said I was 25." Dawning hit Theodore suddenly and he snorted and chuckled mirthlessly. "I wasn't born deaf, Mr. Daw. I became it. What? Did you think every deaf person just knows how to read lips and speak without slurring their words from birth?"
Theo's rebuttal caught him off guard — especially so when the man's eyes wandered and his cheeks flushed ever so slightly again. Something had shifted in their banter. He wondered if he'd crossed a line and upset the man, but...that wasn't the look of someone who'd been offended. At all. Fletch had just enough time for it to begin to dawn on him when Theo struck like a viper. "I...er...shit," Fletcher stammered, still thrown off balance by what had felt oddly close to flirtation. He straightened up. "No, I deserved that. I'm used to a different kind. Men's ears don't take cannon fire particularly well. I've never...I'm an arse, sir. I'm sorry."
"No, you are that's true. But it's fine. Honestly you usually treat me a whole lot better than most people. I'm 37 and I lost my hearing when I was 12. I got really sick and it never came back." Theo shrugged as if it didn't bother him. "It's why I can play so well still too. I was set to be a national child prodigy, but no one wants a cripple playing for them except as a circus freak. But, I remember the notes and how they sound and sometimes when I play I feel like I can still hear again. That is of course until some grumpy bodyguard reminds me he's behind me and it's nearly dawn," he teased, knowing how much Fletcher loved being dragged downstairs for random stress-relieving midnight concerts that made the next morning always a struggle.
Perceptively he eyed the other man before nodding in decision. "I know you have questions. You can ask. You've lasted months without, must be some kind of record for you."
Fletch opened his mouth like he was about to say something, thought better, and closed it again. His usual self-assuredness had evaporated, and now he couldn't seem to find his footing. "Because none of it's my business," he answered finally, uncharacteristically serious. "I've asked most of them once, but...I see your hackles go up, I'm not putting my hand in the cage to keep prodding. Some things, people want to keep close. Nothing else to it."
Theodore smiled softly and genuinely. "Thank you," he said with earnestness. "It's actually because you've been so respectful of my boundaries that I even feel comfortable suggesting it. I mean prior to the whole...," he trailed off point back towards where chaos had ensued, "I just wanted to talk. I understand we are employer and employee and you don't get paid to be my friend. But as sad as it is, I spend nearly the entirety of my days with you. And I trust you."
Theo shrugged and sat back in his chair. His forefinger scratched at the skin of his same thumb was the only clue to his anxiety. "However, if you want to remain entirely professional—or as close as you can manage at least—in our conversations then I respect that. A job is a job. And as you pointed out, I have a book I can read."
He did it again — opened his mouth, took a breath like he was going to say a thing, then shut it and exhaled through his nose. He drummed his fingers on one arm of the chair and made the bun in his other hand into a sad, squished lump. Theo had said a lot of soft, kind things just now, in a row, that Fletcher was not used to hearing, and it had rendered him temporarily unable to find a good witticism. He frowned. "Right. Don't do that to me again," he grunted, absently taking a bite of the compressed bun. He chewed on thoughts and food alike. Finally, he thought he might have it.
"You trust a man not knowing a thing about his past. Seems dangerous. It is dangerous. But..."
Another bite. More thinking. "My job isn't to guard you. My job is to make sure Aya's taken care of. That's all I was left with, by the way — no goodbye, just 'take care of the dog.' So I am. From my point of view, I'm being paid for that. I lose this, there'll be another way to feed her. This way or that, the job's not who I am unless it's got to look like it. Like with your mum around." He paused and made the obligatory face like he'd smelled something rotten before continuing on. "You, though...you're one of the good ones. So I'm not your employee, and you're not my employer. So there'll be no talk of being professional. You know I can't hold it together long enough to play pretend like that anyways." His mischievous grin returned at the quip, and he leaned forward a bit. "Your business is your business. You want to tell me things, tell me things. But I'm not prying."
"Sorry," Theo apologized, thinking that Fletcher was referring to the unintentional flashing incident as opposed to being considerate of his feelings. He shrugged though, unfazed by the fact that he did not know Fletcher's past. "And you don't know mine and yet still protect question mark me? I mean yes there are no actual threats but I assume if there was that you'd actually do what my parents expect of you...like you did when confronting Orz," he added taking a stab in the dark after having observed the pair over the past few months.
"It goes both ways. The not prying just listening part. If you ever wanted to."
Theo sighed and readjusted his position in the chair now that a load of tension had been released. Things were not completely ruined and they were in peaceful agreement. Still though, he wanted to take a chance. He wanted to tell Fletcher things and to be heard and seen and known again as a human being. He opened his mouth, took a breath, closed it, took another breath, and then began.
"You remember when we bought the orb I gave Aneisha today?" The nobleman grimaced in recollection of how he'd broken down and sobbed the whole carriage ride home. "The one who lived in the room before you took me there and taught me about them. He hated free things being caged, didn't believe in the sale of people or beings. Took every opportunity possible to set free exotic birds in the market or elemental spirits in the seedier areas with every scraped together spare coin he had. And he was my first and only friend.
"He was hired as my personal attendant after my nanny—don't you laugh! After she...passed. We used to go to the morning market at midweek and try to buy our weight in ice candy. Also I regret to inform you that you're not special. He also had to suffer endless hours of my playing. Used to always give me a cup of tea after. Which in hindsight was probably just an excuse to escape so he could make it and not listen to me."
The nobleman laughed softly. "I miss him."
"Bit different when it's your bodyguard behind a door with a one-sided lock," he snorted. "As for Orz...I dunno if that was protecting so much as not being able to stand people punching down. The man fires at everyone in range, then wonders why he can't get a woman without paying her." He neglected to mention, of course, that at the moment this was also his preferred route of finding companionship. And at Theo's offer, he jutted his chin and narrowed his eye. He had nothing to say to that. Instead, he occupied himself with the rest of the roll while the man continued.
"Sounds more than a bit like Aya's master," he observed. "Fix everything. Save everything." His jaw clenched. He flashed a brief and distant smile. "You're stuck with me, now. A jailor. Bit ironic. Though, if you like, I can go set all the horses loose."
"Wasn't an elf, was he?" Theo snorted and shook his head. "I thought of you as such when you first joined the staff if I'm being honest. But even then I knew as I do now that I am my own keeper. I made choices and for the most part I stand by them. Besides, my staying here is keeping people like you employed and others free to live their lives. He'd likely hate it, but he's not here to judge now is he? Real easy to set something free when you never stop to think of the consequences of releasing it into the wild without any care or support and call your job done."
He shrugged again. "At least you're an ass and not a self-proclaimed 'good guy' though, right?"
"No," Fletcher muttered. "Just a bastard." As he listened, he began to have a strange inkling that the way Theo spoke of his attendant was much the same way that he spoke of Ven. There were too many regrets in the space between his words. There was too much weight. And while Theo lacked the acerbity that Fletcher prided himself on, he almost seemed to cling to memories like he was afraid to let them go. Then, like he'd heard Fletcher's thoughts, he changed the subject.
"Your words, not mine," Fletch grinned. "I can be good, when the mood strikes." He leaned back into the chair and rubbed at his forehead, still mulling over all that Theo had said, and the way he'd said it. His expression turned curious and distant again like he was trying to solve that same puzzle. He knew he shouldn't ask, but... "Alright. I'll pry a little. These poor girls who keep coming around. Why not just pick one to shut the Baroness up? Seems like more torture now than it would be then."
His expression sparkled with amusement at the prying but unlike Fletcher's previous attempts to prod he was not met with raised hackles. Theo answered calmly and without hesitation.
"How can I trap another person in a cage that will make her miserable? I am physically incapable of producing an heir. Sure she could take a lover and find happiness outside of me. But maybe I'm a bit selfish because I still want to be loved."
He made a sour face after a second. "Besides how cruel would I be to saddle any woman with the Baroness as a mother-in-law? Can you imagine? Why aren't you taking good care of my baby boy?! Why aren't you with child?! And you call yourself a Baroness you'll never be good enough for my Teddy Bear!" Theo shuddered as he rubbed his throat from making such a shrill mocking voice. "Does she still sound like that?"
It was a perfect answer, of course, and it didn't tell him much at all. Fletcher scratched at his stubble and considered, then sighed and raised his brows in a clear display of skepticism. "You may want to tell Mummy Dearest that. Seems it'd be news to her," he replied. He couldn't help but snicker though at Theo's perfect impression of his mother. "Don't do that," he chuckled. "You start that up out of eyesight and I'll need a new pair of trousers. Fuck, she's a menace. There are some times, sir, when I just want to tie her up and toss her in a cart bound for another country. Least then we'd both get some peace."
He shook his head at the mere thought of the woman, then shot a sheepish look over at Theo. "Sometimes, when she's being a real harpy, I think about putting sleeping draught in her tea."
"I'm sure my deafness is new to her too," he quipped. Theo grinned impishly though upon realizing what power he held. "Would we though?" He continued still using his mother's voice before finally dropping the act.
"Honestly sleeping draught was not the additive I was expecting you to say there. I think you're losing your chaotic rogue nature a bit there."
Fletcher rested a boot on one knee and swung an arm to rest over the back of the chair. Somehow, in spite of all of their banter, talk of offing Theo's mother came as a surprise. Truth be told, he did think about that, and often. But threatening a noble was dangerous territory, even among friends. "Rogue?" he said instead, adopting a mock look of confusion. "Sir, I'm hurt. I'll have you know that I haven't cheated at cards or stolen a horse in at least a week. We'll have to change that if you want to call me names."
He snorted and began to laugh as he recalled that conversation with Aneisha months back. "Does it count if we dress you up as one?"
"I mean fair with your depth perception I imagine more piss would end up on the floor than in her teacup. Ahh they just don't make rogues like they used to," he sighed which turned into an ill-suppressed giggle.
"Wait what?" Theo sat up straighter in confusion. "Dress me up as a rogue? Why? Or did you mean as my mother because," he paused a bit wide eyed and shook his head. "Skirts just look like giant death traps if you ask me."
It dawned on him then that Theo hadn't meant anything near killing his mother. He was grateful he'd kept his mouth shut. "A horse, you turnip. A horse," he jabbed. "For horse thieving. I've a quota to keep." Cocking his head, a mischievous glint in his eye, he reached up, pulled the eyepatch off, and tossed it at Theo, revealing the sunken place where his eye had once been. A dreadful scar ran from above his eyebrow down across his cheek, and little dots marked the careful stitchwork where someone had sewn him back up. "You try aiming with no eye, then. I used to be a crack shot, I'll have you know."
"Ohhhhhh....but we have actual horses why would I need to dress up as one?" His questioning was cut off as Fletcher's eyepatch landed in his lap and Theo was greeted with a sight he hadn't seen since the bodyguard's first night at the estate.
For a moment he was distracted feeling the material of the patch in his hand. The inside was soft and worn but padded whereas the outside was a thicker leather. It felt sturdy and like it would be rather comfortable given its purpose.
After though he looked to the other man, taking the scar and missing eye in with the same calmness as he had when the candlelight had made it appear extra gruesome. "It looks to have healed nicely at least," he commented in a softer tone while getting to his feet to approach.
With his hands clasped behind his back and the patch in one of them he looked from his good eye to his missing one. "May I ask how much vision you do have? Like at what point do you lose sight of things on this side?"
He thought there'd be more banter: some quip about how he'd scare the horses away just by taking the patch off. At least with banter, he knew what to do. And if there wasn't that, then he expected some shock. Some revulsion, followed by covering that revulsion up and acting stiff while pretending not to notice. Instead, the man looked at him in a way he couldn't recall being looked at in his life, eye or no eye.
Theo stood. Fletch tensed as he approached, but let the man take in that ugly scar. "Helped to have a medicine man there at the time," he said quietly. "He tried to save the eye, but...well. You can see how that went." He kept his gaze locked on the floor and told himself it was to keep from frightening the man. "Close one eye and see for yourself. Past your own nose, it's just sort of black. Sir, I didn't — I was just joking around. There's no need."
"It's alright," he soothed, reaching out to pat Fletcher's right shoulder comfortingly before taking a step back. "Did you know that I can almost hear certain vibrations? We have these two-pronged metal bars that we hit and use to tune instruments. Different thicknesses make different tones. When I was child I learned that if I hit the prongs and then placed the base here," Theo turned his head to show Fletcher the bone at the base just behind his ear, "I can actually hear the note. I used to like to do it over and over when I discovered that." The man smiled in memory and then made a soft huffing laugh. "I don't think I've ever told anyone that before."
Fletch finally met the man's eye, but truthfully, he didn't hear a word of it. He remained very still, arm still hung on the back of the chair, legs still crossed, every fiber tense. His lungs had frozen mid-breath. Why couldn't Theo have made some stupid joke? What had he told the man his first night in this house? No one was this nice. Definitely not to him.
When Theo took a step away, his breath returned, and suddenly he felt the need to move. With a jolt, he swung his arm down, uncrossed his legs, stood, and made for the balcony. He knew it was a bad idea. Theo would make a damned fuss. It was the only thing besides whiskey that would cool him off. He drew his cigarette case from his pocket.
Theodore startled and recoiled at Fletcher's sudden flight but made no move to stop him. He had something or done something to cause this. Perhaps it was the bringing up his disability and daring to compare it to Fletchers own perceived shortcomings. Perhaps it was that he had gotten too in his face and stared at him like he was a bird in a cage.
Either way he recognized the other man's need to smoke and calm himself and chose just this once to let him be. Orz had brought out a similar reaction enough times on lesson days for Theo to know better than to ask what he had done wrong this time. Fletcher was never going to tell him anyway.
"Just don't get caught," he called to the other man while retaking his seat. The eyepatch remained in his hand and he stared down at it in deep thought. It was well made. And while Aneisha had likely asked a thousand times after it, Theo knew that his bodyguard had never removed it for her. Yet twice now he has seen him without and this time voluntarily.
Fletcher was a handsome man. The nobleman did not understand why he hid his scar like it was something shameful. If anything Theo felt it made him look dashing, not that he was truly looking like that. He wasn't like the younger man, seemingly perfectly fine until you tried to talk to him and realized he was staring at your lips like you had something caught in your teeth. His injury was visible and came with stories. Even fairy tales would do for most women. Yet, all Theo could think about was how much the wound must have hurt and how long Fletcher must have suffered the agony of it healing. No one deserved that.
He looked out on the grounds and he had his smoke. It did help. The tension eased again. That little spark of anger — the one that easily could have lit the fuse to something dangerous — fizzled back out. Much as he hated the cold out here, the fresh air on his bare left eye was a welcome change from having that patch rubbing up against his skin.
He'd been harsh on Theo by getting up and walking off like that. The man really shouldn't have been so kind. He had to know that by now. But Fletcher shouldn't have bolted, either, over something that small. He released a grumbling sigh, tamped his cigarette out, and brought it back in with him. He disposed of it properly the way that Theo had insisted he do, then waited until he was visible to the man before speaking.
"Sorry, sir. It won't happen again." He beckoned for Theo to relinquish the eyepatch.
Theo lost himself in his book, the pages actually turning for once instead of staying stagnant as the spine broke under the pressure of being kept in the same position for weeks on end. He was so engrossed that he nearly missed Fletcher's return and his head jerked slightly in surprise. His features quickly resettled into calm attention followed by a quizzical raise of his brow and confusion.
"Nothing happened that bears apologizing for. Thank you for securing the balcony for me." He yawned and stretched his arms high overhead before absorbing his book on his side table.
A pout formed on his lips as his shoulders sank. "We should likely descend to greet my new betrothal attempt. Bets on how long it takes Mother to bring up heirs or how many lady bingo items this one tries to throw into conversation? I'm putting my coin on four minutes and she was top three in her class at etiquette university, she loves children, is accomplished at embroidery, and hmm likes small dogs. You?"
Fletcher visibly relaxed at the return of their usual bullshit. "Oh, it's very secure, sir. Don't you worry your pretty head." At the reminder, he turned and locked the balcony door before returning to Theo. "I think we play very different versions of lady bingo," he laughed. "You know full well that Fussy Noble isn't a language I speak." He glanced between Theo and the eyepatch, hand still held out expectantly. "You going to give that back, or shall we send her running screaming? Could you live with it if you never learned how many children she's embroidered?"
Theodore flushed five shades of pink at the kind of lady bingo he was sure Fletcher played. He scampered to his feet and retreated a few bouncy steps away. "Yes I'm sure you're an expert who wins every night you play given what time it is when you come scurrying back inside."
He looked down at the patch in his hand and then back up at Fletcher with an impish grin. "And if I don't?" Theo took a few more steps back looking every bit like a puppy with a shoe he wasn't supposed to have.
Fletch cocked his head. He wasn't the least bit ashamed that Theo knew it, just...curious. The man had watched him come and go more than once if he knew it was a habit. "Didn't realize I had a secret admirer spying on me from the shadows. Though...it's not really winning if I lose coin, is it — oh, you cheeky little brat!" He started after Theo, who dangled the eyepatch like a lure. "Give it here. You're a monster, you little shit." He chased the man around the room, snatching for the thing that Theo held safely out of his reach.
"It's hardly a secret when you make so much damn noise when you bump into bed. I'm deaf not numb!"
Peals of laughter echoed throughout the room as Theodore nimbly danced about always just out of reach. For a man who didn't get much of any exercise he was more agile than he appeared and easily ducked or twisted away. Unfortunately he got himself cornered and his last act at keep away was to stand on his tip toes and hold the eyepatch as high above his head as he could. The biggest grin lit up his whole face as he stared right back at Fletcher.
"You won't have it! Nooooo! Finders keepers!!!"
"Now that's just cruel," Fletcher growled as the nobleman took advantage of the difference in their height. "Fine. We're playing dirty, then." With a determined glint in his eye, he reached up, grasped Theo's forearm firmly in both hands, and pulled down until the eyepatch was in reach. He snatched it quickly away and barked a single, triumphant laugh as he backed up. "Tell me again they don't make 'em like they used to," he taunted, holding his arms out in challenge like the cocky rogue he was. Then they fell to his sides, and he glanced towards the door, smirk still lingering. "We should go, though. You're right. They aren't paying me to play Capture the Knickers all afternoon."
Theo squirmed and struggled as hard as he could but two against one was never going to lose. His arm came down with an exhausted grunt even as he started hopping and grappling to try and get it back to no avail. His cheeks ached from smiling though and his throat felt sore from all the laughter yet he couldn't have been happier in that moment.
The next moment was an ice bath to reality though and he nodded, the smile fading as he worked to right his clothes and appear presentable. "Yes, I believe you're right. She's likely already here—wouldn't it be capture the eyepatch?"
Fletcher gave him a funny look at the comment. "Next time we're planning on being conveniently late getting home from lessons, remind me to point out The Siren for you. Sometimes you say things like that and it truly worries me." He bent to pull the patch back on, securing it over the scar. He'd almost gotten used to not wearing it. When he straightened again, he was all business. "Right. Come on. Sooner you get down there, the sooner she'll leave you alone."
"I know where it is," he replied, exiting his room and shutting his door behind them. "I still don't understand what knowing where it is has to do with anything though."
Theodore schooled his features as they both entered his mother's receiving room where Lady Obower and her mother were already waiting. He cast a glance to Fletcher when he realized she must have been at least 15 years younger than himself. This was going to prove to be an exhausting afternoon.
"Lord Archer it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. May I call you Teddy? Your mother—I mean the Baroness, has told me so much about you I feel like we're practically old friends already," the young redhead gushed.
'Kluth preserve me she's bubbly too.'
"It is lovely to meet you as well Lady Obower. Your presence is certainly as warm as spring in this crisp weather. Why don't you have a seat," he directed trying to lead her to the couches.
"Oh and who is this?" She asked, blushing pinker than her dress as she peeked at Fletcher through her lashes. "I didn't realize there would be another handsome lord here."
Theo glanced apologetically to the other man before making the introductions. "Mr. Daw is my bodyguard. The Baron and Baroness have been kind enough to ensure in light of recent community happenings that their heir is kept safe at all times."
"Oh no! That sounds so dangerous!"
"You have nothing to worry about though dear," the Baroness chimed in as the pair took a seat. "This home is completely secure thanks to the help."
Theodore's jaw clenched and lips drained white as he momentarily pressed tight together. "Mother mentioned you had some interests?" He tried interjecting. Edwina for her part startled as she once more was sneaking looks towards the bodyguard's way.
"Oh I embroider and love to read. During my time at Lucille's Academy for Accomplished Young Ladies—"
"—where she was top in her class mind you!"
"Yes thank you mother, where I was their star pupil I was trained in classical and opera music and was told that my voice is as warm and sweet as fresh honey on a summer afternoon. I could sing for you now if you'd like"
It was like being caught in front of gruesome carriage accident in the main square. You knew it was awful and so desperately wanted to escape it. Yet at the same time you were a captive audience unable to look away. The more she talked the more the light left the nobleman's eyes and the more like a deer in torchlight he looked.
"Oh yes Teddy dear why don't you play your piano and Lady Edwina can accompany you!"
"Oh! Yes that would indeed be lovely. Unfortunately there was an um incident and the piano currently is in need of serious retuning."
The Baroness turned to look at her son sharply. "What incident?"
Frantic for an excuse, Theodore named the first thing he could think of. "Mr. Daw fell on it." The moment the words escaped him, Theo knew he was a dead man. He already regretted the lie and very much was avoiding the other man's eyes expecting to see murder in them.
His mother sighed and scowled in disapproval. "I hope you know the retuning and any necessary repairs will be coming out of your pay, Daw."
Without looking, Theo discretely signed 'sorry' while trying to keep from wincing.
The visits. They were his least favorite part of this job. Theo had called it: it was the same fucking conversation every time. Look how perfect I am! Let me read you a list of the boring, useless shit I do. Aren't I perky? Tee hee! Fletcher had never been so grateful to be lowborn in all his life as when he had to stand there stock-still and listen to that drivel. No smokes. No whiskey. Just pure, unadulterated bollocks. It was like watching the world's dullest play.
The girl blushed at him — and she was a girl. Too young, even for Theo. He returned her gaze with a brief and withering glance, supremely uninterested in whatever demure bullshit act she was trying. Though, when she checked off two boxes of Theo's lady bingo card, he had to clear his throat suddenly and violently in order to stifle his laughter.
The conversation went on. And on. And on. How had it only been ten minutes? It felt like an eternity. With every screech from the Baroness, Fletcher's mood grew more foul, until the menacing glare he had locked on the window suggested a violent and chaotic plot to set the whole house on fire with all of them in it.
And then Theo mentioned his name. He snapped to attention so severely that something pulled in his neck, and in trying to bite back a groan of pain he entirely missed what had been said, until "...will be coming out of your pay, Daw."
"Yes, Your Ladyship. My apologies," he grunted by way of sheer fucking habit without the faintest idea what he had just apologized for. He did, however, know that Theo had just thrown him under a cart to the tune of losing pay, and that arsonist's glower moved across the room and now fixed firmly on his charge. The man signed a quick apology. It did not stop Fletcher from making a mental checklist of every silver candlestick and curio in his quarters. If he had to fence some of Theo's shit to make up for it, he wasn't above it by any means.
He moved a few steps to the left so that his hands were visible to Theo alone.
'I...know...where...you...sleep,' he spelled out.
Theo watched Fletcher from the corner of his eye, thereby completely ignoring as the women continued to titter and extol his potential betrothed's attributes to him. He didn't even notice as Edwina left the couch to stand in the middle of the room, poised to sing. Instead he was aggressively signing 'sorry' back, in fear for his pretty little life. Maybe he could drag the dresser in front of the nanny door tonight. Just in case.
It was therefore a shock to him though to turn back to the conversation and find the young woman no longer beside him but instead standing with clasped hands before him. For several moments he simply blinked at her as his brain desperately tried to understand why she was gasping like a fish out of water. Then it hit him. She was singing. The entirety of what though was completely lost on him. Lip reading was a flawed art to begin with. Singing was next to impossible for him though.
With an encouraging smile, Theodore slowly got to his feet, bowing his head to her before seeming to meander about the room. Casually he pulled up beside Fletcher and stood with his back to the room while making an attempt to confiscate his bodyguard's rapier for a little bout of self-murder. "Let me die," he whispered through gritted teeth as his hand tried to tug it free.
Fletch looked positively deranged. It was lucky Theo blocked the view, or the Baroness might have thought that her son was about to lose his damned life. He over enunciated every word that he breathed back to the man as he held his rapier firmly in place with one hand and pried Theo's fingers off with the other. "Oh, no. No fucking mercy." He took a fortifying breath, adopted the most saccharine, ingratiating tone he could muster, and struck. "Oh, sir! I really think that the lady should hear it from you." He stepped around Theo and softened his face up, though the murder still remained in his eye. His every syllable dripped with a sweet poison that Theo couldn't hear. "Master Theodore is so modest. Lady Edwina, I believe he'd like to escort you around the grounds."
Theodore sent a look that spelled murder towards his bodyguard before shyly smiling and nodding. As he stepped forward to offer a hand to Edwina he purposely made sure to kick Fletcher in the ankle. Hard.
"You'll come along and keep us both safe though won't you Mr. Daw?" Edwina asked as she pressed in close to Theo's side. "I admit I've been quite nervous about going to the marketplace since I heard that was where Keighley first encountered her captor. I would just feel so much safer with you both there to protect me."
"Yes the market truly is a dangerous place," Theo chimed in. "You never know what sort of ruffians will try to accost you at a moment's notice."
The pain from his ankle went right back into that nasty look. A vein popped on his forehead, and another one pulsed in his neck with his heavy heartbeat. "I'm sure I can find someone to keep you both safe, Lady Edwina," he managed through gritted teeth. He bit back every acerbic retort that rattled against his skull. With the Baroness in earshot, this was all still very much an act, and he would play his part no matter how much of a rise Theo sought to get out of him. He followed behind them both as they made their way towards the entrance. "I'll have one of the guards at the front escort you."
While Edwin pouted, Theodore turned his head and grinned. "Mr. Daw the lady would feel better in your presence. I insist that you join us for her ease and comfort. Immediately."
The young woman bounces up and down in her excitement and giggled as she tried to rush Theodore right out the door with her. He couldn't tell a soul what she was saying though as she spoke quickly and did everything but look in his direction. She seemed so excited that he could not bring himself to interrupt her and without an understanding of what she was saying, Theo had no idea what was a good point to interject either. Instead he smiled and nodded his head while walking her around to view the various fall flowers.
"Of course, sir."
He followed them out onto the grounds. The girl was a constant stream of useless chatter about her own value as a match. Fletch would be the first to admit that he talked about himself often, but never like this. At least when he did it, he had the good graces to be interesting. This Edwina girl couldn't be more boring with her not-so-subtle brags about the silliest, most useless skills imaginable. Embroidery? Who the fuck cared about embroidery? What would Theo possibly do with that information? She had been right about one thing when she'd talked about the dangers of the market: she wouldn't last a second alone in the real world. None of them would. He fought to keep his sneer from deepening and consoled himself with thoughts of flicking Theo in the back of his pretty, perfect head.
"...oh, and you must attend the debutante ball, Theodore!"
He focused again on her blathering and recalled how Theo had withered at the mere thought of dancing. A dark little chuckle whistled between his teeth. If he had to be miserable, then he'd sure as shit drag Theo down as he went. "Beg pardon for interrupting, Lady Edwina. I couldn't help but overhear. Master Theodore is an expert dancer. You should, er...ask him for a demonstration."
Edwina lit up as if Fletcher had just told her Yule had come early and she had been gifted a lifetime supply of exotic chocolate. Theodore however, looked ashamed even as the girl beside him bounced up and down again and clung to his arm. He patted her hand gently as he turned to face her properly.
"I am afraid, Lady Edwina that Mr. Daw is jesting and pulling your leg. I am a terrible dancer on account of the fact that I am deaf. I cannot hear the music cues and I step on my partner's toes far too often because of it. I am more than happy though to watch you dance and enjoy yourself as I understand that it is a favorite pastime of yours."
As he spoke to her, Edwina's expression changed from excitement to confusion before finally settling on what Theodore was all too familiar with, pitying disgust. "You're a hand-speaker then?" she asked staring down at his hands.
"I speak the same as you. But, yes I also know how to sign."
"I don't know--oh," she paused and then looked at him, speaking slower and over-enunciating while hand gesturing. "I...dooo...nooot...knooow...hooow...tooo...haaaand...speeeeak. Caaaan...youuuu...un...deeer...staaand...meee?"
Theo took a deep breath, his expression showing glimpses of deep frustration even as he kept his words and tone polite. "I was conversing with you just fine earlier, Lady Edwina. I read lips. And yes, I understand you just fine."
"Oh," she said flushing in embarrassment. "I'm sorry. It's just I've never met a reject before. You poor thing. Life must be so difficult for you. You can't even hear birdsong. How sad and boring things must be for you. Did you have to attend a special academy then for rejects? Oh! We should sit down. You must be tired after our walking. Here let me help you." She stepped in to retake his arm as if supporting a frail elderly figure. "Don't worry, I think you're still special and worth marrying."
It did not matter how many times he heard it or who from, it always stung as deeply as the first. Theo had learned how to grin and bear it, had learned to stand and take it like a man. But, the knife was still red, hot as it carved him from neck to navel. If it wasn't this sort of pity as in Edwina's case it was the anger, the mocking, a few times as a boy even, the violence. He was just so tired. Why could no one treat him normal? He was normal. He was human. And all they saw was a broken human. All they wanted was a doll.
He buried his temper deep down into the pit of his stomach. He had a duty to do and a reputation to uphold, own feelings be damned. It wasn't even Fletcher's fault for teasing him; this was bound to happen one way or another and he made sure to not look the other man's way so as to not give the wrong impression that he was angry with him.
It was like plunging into the cold sea. As soon as the girl started up, Fletcher's smirk fell and his vengeant fire sputtered out. He'd gone too far. He'd been so determined to knock Theo down a peg for what the man had done that he'd run his mouth without thinking. And now, here were the consequences, and they had all fallen on Theo. He shouldn't have done it. He shouldn't have. Worse was watching the man know exactly how to navigate this conversation as though he'd been here a hundred times before. None of it was a shock to him. He accepted it all with strained resignation, like this was just how life had always been.
The only thing he could think to do to even begin to fix what he'd fucked up was to end it all as fast as possible, and that meant cutting the walk short. It also meant leaning into the very things that Theo hated. "I think Lady Edwina is right, sir. It's a bit chilly. Perhaps someplace to sit indoors?"
Theo caught the tail end of what Fletcher was saying after catching Edwina looking to the other man. After a slightly pause he nodded in thanks before swallowing and looking back to the girl. He pulled his arm out of her grasp and took a step back. "I think, Lady Edwina, that I am feeling rather unwell at the moment. Mr. Daw is right and this cooler weather is not agreeing with my constitution.
"Viter!--My guard will escort you back inside, Lady Edwina. My sincerest apologies," he intoned bowing as another guard approached them to escort her away. "Please inform the Baroness that I found her choice in tea this afternoon to be delightful but a bit off-putting. She might consider a little less sugar and allow the leaves to steep longer next time. Thank you for your company. It has been lovely to make your acquaintance."
He remained standing, hands clasped behind his back and smiling that tired polite smile he always held until the pair was out of sight. Only then did he allow the mask to fall and his posture to relax with a deep exhalation. "It seems, Mr. Daw, that you win." Theo looked over to the other man with a raised brow. "You will be training in sparring, starting now. Shall we?"
Fletcher was, for once, at a loss for words. He watched the girl go. Her confused backward glances towards them should have sparked some triumph in him, but his stomach was an icy pit and he could think of nothing else but what an ass he'd been. He avoided Theo's gaze until he could no longer afford to, and then looked at him with the deep shame of a dog that had shat on the rug. "Sir — Theo, I — "
He swallowed. He thought he might be sick. He nodded dutifully. "Yes, sir. If that's what's needed. Let's...let's go behind the carriage house. The guard won't see us."
"The training grounds will do just fine," he replied. "If I am to train with you, it is best I learn to do so properly, don't you think? Or is it so shameful how little I know? I can understand you don't want the others to see how easily you rub my face in the mud." He tried to laugh but it came out sounding hollow as they walked into the small dirt courtyard where the guards often trained. At this time of day it was empty and for that Theo was grateful.
He walked over to the wooden sparring swords and grabbed two, holding one out loosely to Fletcher. "I've watched you enough times with Captain Neish but I'm afraid it's all theory rather than practical in my head at this point. Something like this?" Theodore adjusted his grip and footing, bending his knees and tucking his elbows in a well-studied pose of readiness. The issue however was that his balance was wrong. His weight was shifted into the wrong leg and the muscles of his arm were tensed instead of allowing his shoulder and back to take the brunt of the weight.
"....and thank you, by the way. For helping me get rid of her. I don't think I could have taken another minute of her yammering without my eyes falling right out of my head."
"Oh." He'd been looking in the direction of the carriage house. Now his attention swiveled to the training grounds. "No, sir...I just misunderstood. Thought you wanted to wail on me for what I..." Fletcher trailed off and cleared his throat. He shivered in the cold air. Theo seemed determined to make light of what had just occurred, but his attempts to sweep it all under the rug were mighty transparent.
He followed the nobleman towards the grounds. He was uncharacteristically quiet as they walked. Smaller, somehow, too, like the shame of it had shrunk him down to what he really was. It was clear that his mind was elsewhere even as they slowed to a stop. Wordlessly, he took the wooden sword in hand. It took him a full five seconds to realize what Theo was doing, and the wrongness of it was just enough to pull him from his self-flagellation.
"No, no. Hold on. You've skipped five steps." Fletcher started forward, meaning to correct the man, then realized that this wasn't going to work. Instead, he tossed the sword aside and gestured with his chin for Theo to do the same. One hand rested on his hip, and the other scratched at his stubble. "Listen. Theo." He sighed, considering the man. "If you're here to blow off steam, it's not the time to learn the technical shit. If you're anything like me when I'm bothered, learning from the ground up is the last thing you want. It'll just make things worse." A hint of a smile returned, and he stood just a little bit taller again. "Correct me if I'm wrong, sir, but I think you'd benefit from something a bit messier. Something where you don't have to think quite so much. So...want to try boxing? You deserve to land at least one good hit on me."
His face darkened some before turning into a sad pout as he relaxed. "But, I don't want to hurt you or wail on you or..." He shook his head sharply. "I am not this kind of man." Theodore sighed and nodded his head. "You're probably right. I don't think I could concentrate on even music right now with how--I'm just so tired of it. If it's not pity, it's mocking. If it's not mocking, it's disgust, and if it's not disgust, it's violence. And the only people who treat me with any semblance of normalcy are the people paid to. And I'm supposed to just man up and endure since it's my own damn fault for losing my hearing in the first place. And I'm just so..." he paused breathing deep and on the exhale completely deflating, "tired."
Theo scrubbed at his face and shook his head. "I think you're right. I'm not made for any of this. I think I just....I need to sit down." He took one shaky step backwards feeling his knees turn into noodles so that he collapsed straight down onto the ground like a rock. Theodore made no move to get up either as if just accepting his fate. "I am as human as everyone else. Why can't they see that? Why can't any of them see me?"
His breathing came faster as the hurt and anger threatened to overrun him. He dug his hands into the sand, squeezing fistfuls of the cool particulate and wanting nothing more than to throw it and scream like a toddler having a tantrum. He felt so small and useless and worthless curled up there on the ground. But what could he do? At the end of the day he still had to get back up, put on his polite face, and endure. Nothing could change. Devils kept him still chained to this place and its demand for conformity. The consequences of his own actions continued to damn him 15 years later.
They might as well have been speaking different languages to each other. Fighting was in his blood. It had been a part of him from such a young age, and he'd grown with it, and his body had grown around it. And here was this man who knew none of it. Who was afraid to cause pain to someone else. Who thought that hitting someone was the same thing as hurting them.
Before any of it could be said, Theo's own hurt consumed him and he collapsed to the sand. Fletcher released a long, low, grumbling sigh that the man couldn't hear, shifted his weight, and turned his head to rub at his brow. Here was another language barrier. He'd grown up with five siblings. He'd watched a man's mind and soul deteriorate year after year. Not a one of them had ever been prone to being this raw. This exposed.
Fletcher gave it about ten seconds after the man's last word, then decided it was enough. He circled Theo, knelt, and worked his hands beneath his arms, preparing to lift him. "Right. Come on. Up you get."
No done had Theo said that he was tired of being made to man up than Fletcher was dragging him back to his feet. He looked at the other man balefully, hating how easily he could be lifted. Elijah used to do the same to him all the time: carry him like a child from room to room and tease that he was as light as a feather.
He was just so tired. Theodore closed his eyes and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Fletcher's shoulders and hugging him close. He didn't even consider the consequences of them being seen. He was just so defeated and gutted inside and all he wanted in the whole world was for someone to hold him and make it better.
He froze in place. This sort of thing just didn't happen. Men did not embrace other men like this. Not without expectations of each other. And they certainly didn't do it when someone could be watching out a window. Thoughts of earlier crept in: how Theo had almost seemed to flush. How he'd skirted the issue of marriage when Fletch had asked. How the Baron regarded him with such disdain, like...
Ah. Well. That explained a lot.
"Theo? Theo."
Fletcher pulled from the nobleman's arms and stepped away. He turned, surveying the grounds for any sign at all of other people. Then the windows, one by one. Then the perimeter. Finally, he returned his attention to his disconsolate charge. His worry was plain in the lines on his face, but he was not unkind. "Not here. Not where anyone can see. Ever. I know you know this." He released a shuddering breath and glanced around once more to make damned sure that they weren't seen, then looked back at the man again. "Seems we've a lot to discuss...sir."
The moment he was pushed away, Theo immediately dropped his arms and retreated out of swinging range. He should not have done that, he knew it. But, he was so startled for affection and physical touch. He didn't know what came over him other than Fletcher was the first person in a long, long time he felt safe with and it felt right in the moment.
His eyes only widened in panic and horror at the bodyguard's words. What did he know? Who had told him? Had he figured it out on his own? How long had he known? Was he going to tell the Baron?
Theodore paled and wobbled slightly looking very much like he was going to pass out on the spot. Yet, Fletcher wasn't looking at him in disgust or pity. His expression looked concerned but gentle. Was he afraid for his job? Had Theodore ruined the livelihood of another man?
He gripped his jaw, covering his mouth as his stomach turned. Theo didn't know what to do but he felt sick and terrified and the anticipation and anxiety surrounding the unknown was quickly eating away at him. Why did he have to go and ruin things? Why did he have to be so stupid? Why couldn't he just keep it together and go cry in his room alone like the pathetic little baby he was?
Run.
His mind screamed for him to bolt, to disappear, to retreat and not look back. But his shoes suddenly were filled with less and he was trapped in place. A thousand questions flooded his mind and reflect on his face s he could do nothing but open and close his mouth like a fish gasping for air.
Finally he was able to compose himself enough to speak, although he could not meet Fletcher's face. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I think it best I go inside. The cold..."
He swallowed and shook his head, backpedaling quickly to head inside without any further explanation. When he got to the front door he slowed enough for his bodyguard to keep pace with him and to not raise his mother's suspicion. He could not face her in this moment. He could not face any of them for if he did he was sure he would shatter into a million discordant pieces. He just needed to get to his room. Whatever happened from there it would be alright. He just needed his room. He just needed to feel safe.
Fletcher stayed on the man's heels all the way to the front door, and in that time he forced everything back into the narrow sliver of himself that he allowed the guards to see. Upon entering the house, he was stiff and serious as though nothing had happened whatsoever.
It seemed that the girl and her mother hadn't left — as evidenced by the shrill performance of the Baroness that echoed down the hall. He scowled and hurried up the steps, following the same pattern that Theo did when he didn't want to be heard. Wordlessly, he waited until the nobleman had entered his room and then shut the door quietly. Then he made his way to his own room, locked that door behind him, turned, and began to dig through one of his dresser drawers.
A moment later, he emerged through the nanny door with a bottle of whiskey in hand, strode to Theo's door, latched it firmly, and turned to face him. "Right," he breathed. "Want a drink? I need a drink."
Theo nearly jumped out of his skin when the nanny door opened and out popped Fletcher with a bottle in hand. The nobleman eyed him warily up and down even as he took a few cautious steps backward to create distance between them.
"...I already apologized for earlier. Is it really that embarrassing for you that you need to get drunk to forget it?"
Fletch gave him a skeptical look, then shrugged. "More for me." He made his way to the nearest chair, sat, and uncorked the bottle. He took a hearty swig — the first he'd had in well over a year. "Ah, fuck me, that burns," he coughed, but at the sight of Theo's worried face, he quieted again. He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair as he tried to decide where to begin. The silence was palpable, and he knew that the longer he dallied, the more it would upset the man.
"Aya's master," he began, "Died two years ago this winter." He paused. He swallowed. Why was it so difficult to say? His leg began to bounce. His fist clenched and unclenched on the arm of the chair. He drew a breath and looked Theo dead in the eye. "...And for twelve years before that, sir...we shared a bed."
Fletcher leaned forward and took another swig. "Now. I haven't told a soul this since his passing. Even when we worked together, there were few people who knew. So I'm trusting you that you won't breathe a word. Not to anyone. Not Aneisha...nobody. And you should know that I'll do the same for you."
Theo watched like a silent stone guardian as Fletcher displayed all the signs of a man on edge and ready to explode. His words however sent electricity through the nobleman's veins. Fletcher wasn't damning him; he was like him. Tension and worry eased away from Theo, replaced by understanding and compassion.
Wordlessly he approached the other man and gently took the bottle from him to take a hearty swig. Theo's entire face screwed up involuntarily at the taste even as he handed it back before sinking into his own chair.
"Not one," he intoned solemnly, meeting the other manna eyes. "You have my word, Jack."
For a moment he ran his fingers through his hair and gathered his own thoughts. Then, relaxing back in his chair, fingers clothing the armrest ends he finally dared to ask. "Did my father tell you or is it truly that obvious?"
"No one told me anything," he replied, shaking his head and cracking the slightest grin. "You're actually quite good at hiding it. It took me months, sir. I lived with the bastard. Saw him every damned day. Learned all his tells. It should have taken me a week to spot it. Two, tops." He sniffed. He grew serious again. "Theo, I was a right ass today. I went too far. I shouldn't have said it. I'm the reason any of this happened in the first place, but...don't do...that...in front of fifteen windows...again. I'd more than lose my job. I'd probably have to leave the damned city to be able to make a living."
Theo shook his head. "No, no. We were both playing and I did kick you pretty hard—is your ankle okay? It wasn't anything you did and everything to do with...she was going to find out eventually. We both know her reaction wasn't going to be much different. Well...in my experience the longer you make them wait the more they slide from pity to disgust. But, still. She chose to react that way, to apply all her pretty etiquette classes in such a way as to condescend and talk down to me like I'm a senile old fool. Besides, you may have just saved us both from the ball so...yay~"
He tried for a smile but just ended up shaking his head. "That? That is what got me caught? I am sorry. Genuinely. You are right of course but that...it had truly nothing to do with my...interests. Although can we even call them that when it is all in theory instead of practice?"
Theo shook his head again and fluffed his hair nervously. "It is not to say that I think you unattractive. I just haven't looked at anyone that way since I was Edwina's age. And I suppose what I latched onto was...not lust but...closeness...comfort. You needn't worry though. I promise never to do it again.
"I already cost someone their job over more," he said hanging his head a bit. "I swore then I'd never let it happen again."
Theo sat in silence for a bit collecting his thoughts until he was able to continue. "The one who had your room before—we did not share a bed, but we did share a kiss. We tried to run away together but we were quickly found out and I've been here alone ever since."
He looked at Fletcher with deep seriousness needing only a single steadying breath before admitting the truth. "You asked me once why I stayed in a cage I knew how to open the door to and I told you I made deals with devils. My father knows of my inclinations and of the man I intended to spend my life with. I agreed to every demand placed upon me in exchange for his safety, his reputation, and his future. And I have upheld those contracts and their blackmailing revisions for the last 15 years without failure. I have not seen Elijah since. I have forfeited my rights as the Baron's heir and to the family business; my cousin is set to inherit instead. I have entertained every respectable daughter in the province. I have held my breath and bitten my tongue and locked away my heart behind stone so that no one sees weakness and suspects. I have been the perfect doll for their games and buried away my shame and still been found unworthy and lacking. And while you and others perhaps rightfully have judged me to be a vapid, spoiled, little, rich boy having himself another pity party I have bourn the weight of entire lifetimes upon my shoulders all while playing a sonata on demand.
"I am exhausted from living up to unachievable expectations."
The nobleman sighed and slumped back into his chair. "And I am sorry. I should never have touched you or kicked you or blamed you for the piano—which I will be paying for you. You'll have enough for Aya as always. I am very sorry. And I understand that you likely have some demands of your own at this point."
There it was. The missing piece. The disdain from his father. Theo's steadfast determination to stay and do exactly this in spite of the crushing weight of it. That feeling like they were just living in a tomb and waiting to expire — it all clicked into place. Fletcher had seen his share of blackmail. He'd known extortion and ransom. All of it was quick — a violent jab of the knife. He had never known it to go on for half a lifetime.
He sunk a little in his chair as though that heavy burden had fallen on his own shoulders. He looked thoughtful, now. And weary, though he knew now that that weariness would never compare to Theo's. He rested his chin in the crook between his thumb and forefinger and scratched absently at his cheek. His eye darted to and fro over a chessboard that wasn't there. For a little while after Theo finished, he remained that way, only breaking it to wave a hand dismissively when the man mentioned the piano incident. Then he leaned forward, with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands steepled.
"Well...first. Because you do keep saying it and it's not the case: in the absence of pay, your staff would still take your side. Maybe they're here to make a living, but...give them a bit more credit. I don't think any of us find you spoiled. Rich, sure. Somehow you dodged the spoiled bit. We all know you're one of the good ones. So stop that.
"Second, I've no demands, as I do know where you sleep," he smirked. Then it dropped again. "Third. Something about this stinks. Not you, mind. Your father and your man. Now..."
Fletcher hesitated. He suspected that to say this was to go too far, but...now the fire was lit in a way that he'd not felt it since the last dealer in town had tripped and fell into a ditch at his hand. He lowered his voice to barely a whisper. "Ven and I...we...did a little spy work. A little...revolutionary work. Sabotage. Blackmail. General plotting. ...Explosions, on occasion. Point being, I may not be the sneakiest little fucker, but I do know what I'm doing when it comes to discretion. And to finding people who don't want to be found. So think about it, I suppose. If you want him found. If you want to know. Fifteen years is a long time not to know."
He listened in deep silence. A snort at where he slept and a scowl at Elijah being called his, but otherwise the heaviness stretched between them. Theodore didn't even bat an eye at Fletcher's criminal background. Everyone knew of the war up north, of the mages that had vied for more freedom and found themselves on the losing end of things. Plenty of Connlaothians had attempted to flee into Serendipity for safety; some succeeded.
"...I will consider it. I d...it has been 15 years. I don't know what's worse at this point...knowing or not." Theo licked his lips and shook his head. "Thank you, though. I know that...that sharing this is a lot of sensitive information, that you are putting a lot of trust in me and I recognize that."
Theodore picked at his cuticles as he processed memory and fact. There was so much on his mind and yet the question he asked focused on a more insignificant detail. "Do I remind you of him? You said you knew all his tells and should have guessed sooner as if I am...easy to read. Maybe I am. You're not, by the way. I never suspected. I must be as dense as a rock."
"Mm. Well. I do trust you." Fletcher said it like it was nothing, but it was the truth. Even days into knowing Theo, he'd decided that the man was good-hearted and pragmatic enough to tolerate his aberrations from what was acceptable to polite society. And Theo hadn't challenged that assumption once. So Theo would know the things that few ever learned.
Including, apparently, whether or not he was similar to Ven.
Fletcher's brows raised. "Do you remind me of the man who shared my bed? Bit of a loaded question," he replied. He knew, of course, what the man was trying to ask, but...it did crack open something he had tried not to think about at all. He wouldn't tell Theo how he jutted his chin indignantly just the same as Ven. Or how they both spoke softly to animals in a secret language like no one else was there. Or how their wit and stubbornness could have made them brothers. He didn't want to look at this man — for all intents his friend — and see the one who'd iced over and then gone out like a coward. And truthfully, he didn't want to look at Theo like that at all. That was a minefield, and with the weight of Ven's corpse to carry, he'd surely stumble. So there was so much to his answer that was better left unsaid.
He cleared his throat. "No...you're right. I did walk right into that one, didn't I? I just got a bit cocky is all. But...you aren't the same. And you're not easy to read, Theo. You're a maze. This whole thing has been a mystery for months. All of it." He paused, still pondering that invisible chess board, and then leaned back into the chair. "I mean to keep it that way — going unseen. Present company notwithstanding, obviously. You learn to get good at burying it when you've a dad like mine sniffing out your weaknesses and addressing them with a belt. Believe me."
Fletcher reached over and took the bottle back, soothing himself with another drink. He frowned at it. "Should probably stop before I'm stumbling on the job. How long until mother dearest comes flying up here to fuss at you over that Edwina girl?"
His eyes widened in panic as he sputtered and sat up trying to backpedal. Theo had said only just that morning that he would not pry and only be open for listening. But there he was asking how much he reminded Fletcher of his late partner. It had not been the kind of question he meant. He wanted to know where his veneer had cracked, where others would find the same hints and come to the same conclusions.
Thankfully though it seemed that Fletcher understood what he was truly after. It did little to soothe his concerns though. And in addition to them it added sympathy for Fletcher. Theo's father had caged him and taken his rich boy privileges from him. But no one had ever beaten him, at least no one who also claimed to love and care for him. He wanted to get out of his chair and drag the other man into a hug again, giving instead of taking the comfort this time. But, Theo was too afraid to be shoved aside again or lectured on being careful.
"Ah...so I shouldn't tell you where we hid the elven wine then. Got it," he teased hollowly. "Mother will wait until I come down and she has an audience to hold court before. No one comes up here anymore. Well no one except you at least."
He eyed the bottle some but made no move for it. "So...maze is all solved for you then? No more entertaining puzzles to try and figure out?"
Fletcher handed over the whiskey. He shouldn't have started drinking again at all, but telling another man his secret had required more than a little liquid courage. He'd have to be careful, though, that it didn't tip right over into a fresh habit. "I dunno," he said, not bothering to deny that it had been one way that he'd kept from being bored all these months. "You tell me. You know the cards in your hand and I know the ones in mine."
It was a cryptic answer from a man whose mind whirred with gears as he tried to solve two problems at once that were frankly none of his concern. "You're miserable here," he said suddenly in an abrupt change of topic. "When we met, you'd gotten out just to go and look at things at market. So...tell me. Would getting out for a night make you any less miserable now?"
"There would be too many questions and restrictions if we try. And if I sneak out you'll lose your job and everyone will go without pay for the month."
He hung his head and took another swig of the whiskey, his face wincing again at the taste. "I don't want any of that to happen. My misery now would be nothing in comparison if that happened. I don't want you in trouble."
"No. If you sneak out and get caught. Or did you forget who put three more fences around your cage?" He shrugged. "So maybe I just make a nice, big hole in the fences, and we climb through. And I help you not get caught. You didn't answer the question, though. The question wasn't, 'will Theo feel guilty.' I know what the answer to that will be. The question was, will a little freedom make him less miserable?"
He raised a brow and shrugged slightly at the mention of all the extra fences. While he should have been focused on being redirected to answer Fletcher's question, Theo was instead perking up in realization. A happy smile was starting to tug at the corners of his mouth and the light began to return to his eyes again.
"You called me by my name. Not sir, but, Theo. Thank you," he beamed. "Thank you."
Fletcher sighed and shot Theo an exasperated look. "Of course, sir," he sassed the man, tilting his head as he spoke. "Now answer the bleeding question before you drive a man to drink." But he didn't miss the way Theo had lit up. He should have been glad to see the man come back to life if only for a moment, but truth be told, it knotted his stomach. Why had he stopped calling him sir? And when?
Theo pouted at Fletcher's sass and chucked a pillow hard at the other man in playful retaliation. His chin raised in defiance as he fought a cheeky grin. "I'll answer if you promise to use my name more when it's just us. Since we're friends, right?"
"Oi!"
He swatted the pillow away, only to see that same haughty look he'd just been thinking of. He brushed it off. It was a stupid comparison. "I've got a better F word for you, you little shit," he muttered. He pointed a finger. "You, sir, are a brat. I don't make promises under threat. Even if that threat is pillows and insanity."
"Frenemies then?" He quipped while getting to his feet and stalking closer. His hands came down on other side of Fletcher's chair as he leaned into the other man's face impishly. "Not even in the face of torture? Well then I guess you're just going to have to suck it up for the sad-sack rich boy and pretend so he doesn't burst into tears again in the middle of whatever misery-free outing you have in mind."
Just for added cheek, Theo swiped his eyepatch and retreated back to his seat swinging it around his finger with a challenging raised brow.
The corner of his mouth twitched with a poorly-hidden smirk. "Ohoho. No. I'm not playing that game again. You want to run around giggling like a tart, you be my guest." He stood slowly, taking his time, cracking his neck and stretching. He started back towards the nanny door, moving rather like a cat. When he reached the door, he set a hand on it and paused. He turned just enough for Theo to read him. "Guess I'll be going to the night market alone. 'S too bad, really. I think you'd have liked it. Enjoy the whiskey. And your captured knickers. Knock if you need me."
"Night market?" He side-eyed Fletcher while thumbing the patch in his hand. The feel of it was comforting for some reason and he unconsciously found himself reluctant to relinquish it. With a shrug he slapped it on himself, grunting softly as his vision tried to accommodate the difference.
"And how exactly am I meant to knock to get your attention if you are likewise out. At the night market. By yourself?"
Theo grinned cheekily but got to his feet and physically brushed past Fletcher to open the door and enter his room. "I can't exactly go out in these clothes now can I? You must have something I can borrow. Otherwise I guess I'll just have to retrieve the wine and drink all by myself."
Fletcher's coy self-assuredness evaporated as Theo pushed into his room. His room. Annoyance flashed in his good eye, and he hurried in after. Any thoughts of a strategic escape or further banter were batted aside. "Oi. Oi. No. Get your grubby hands away from my things." He circled Theo, putting himself between the man and the furnishings — dresser included. "You have plenty of things. You don't need mine. Go on. Back to your fancy-pants room."
He had had no intention of touching anything, instead expecting Fletcher to have an idea and take the lead on how to proceed. His reaction therefore took the nobleman completely aback for a moment. But, the bodyguard was right. How rude of him to just barge in like he owned the place and demand things like a spoiled brat.
Theo removed the eyepatch carefully, placing it in Fletcher's hand before quietly apologizing and backing completely out of the room, closing the door behind him. Evening was looking a lot more like whiskey and brooding by the minute.
Fletch let loose a long, grumbling sigh, shook his head, and pulled the patch back on. He'd soured on whatever game this was. Theo never seemed to be able to take the slightest denial or criticism without going off into his own self-pitying world. Well. It had been a day already, and if Theo needed another cry in his room, then Fletch would wait in here. He flopped down on his bed and stared up at the ceiling.
Theo slid down the door to sit on the floor, his head thunking lightly against it as he closed his eyes and tried to sort out his thoughts. It had been such a long day with so many ups and downs. He'd gained a friend, gotten to play, revealed some truths, been humiliated, cracked enough to show his true colors, revealed all the truths, been granted truths in turn, played some more, and then promptly stepped in it as usual. This friend thing was proving to be rather difficult. He could only hope that Fletcher would be patient and understanding enough to continue to put up with him as he figured out the rules and boundaries.
With a soft grunt he got to his feet and moved to go out into the balcony. The doors squealed slightly as he opened them, signaling their movement. He took to gripping the bannister and watching as the sun painted the sky in hues of red and gold. The air was crisp and chilled his lungs with little it daggers but the cold was refreshing. It gave him clarity and calm like a much needed shock to the system.
And when it became too chilly for him, he gave the sky one last look of longing before retreating back indoors. The doors closed with another squeak and a soft bang. Theo's footsteps through the room followed until he was standing before the nanny door again, Fletchers door. He needed to apologize. He had been wrong and taken things too far and it was the right thing to do. Whether he would be heard or not was not up to him anymore than forgiveness was. But he had to try.
"Mr. Daw," he spoke through the thin door while knocking. "You don't have to open the door if you don't want. I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I let myself get carried away and didn't consider how it would feel to have me invading your space. I had no intention of going through your things but I can certainly see how it came across that way and I'm sorry. I will behave better in the future.
"That being said," he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "I would very much benefit from such an excursion. I however, would still like it if the other thing happened provided you were comfortable with that. No threats or bargaining or coercion. But it is the truth."
"Mr. Daw."
Fletch jolted awake with a sharp breath. He must have accidentally dozed off from the whiskey. How long had he been out? It took him a moment to get his bearings, during which time Theo continued on the other side of the door. Fletcher screwed up his face trying to make out what the man said. Was he...apologizing? It hadn't even been an issue. He grumbled to himself as he slid his legs back over the bed to rest on the floor. He grumbled again as he stood, and as he trudged to the door and pushed it open with a finger, revealing to Theo his squinting, disheveled self.
He frowned, still very much half-awake. "Gimme a day or two to make the hole in the fence. I'll let you know. N'...I'll find you some clothes. Don't worry about that."
"Oh I'm sorry. Did I wake you? I didn't mean to," he apologized covering his mouth with his fingers some as he tried to contain his laughter a bit.
Looking Fletcher up and down while worrying his lip he hesitates but eventually went for it. "Should I let you get back to sleep then? Or would you like to come back in and...get your grubby hands all over my things." The last he added with as much of a straight face as he could manage but it was somewhat difficult with his attempt at humor warring with his own anxiety.
"Right back to it, ey?" Fletcher shook his head and rubbed at his face. "If I wanted a kid I'd have made one already," he muttered. "No, I should head down to the kitchen before Kenna's window closes for feeding me. I'd rather avoid the guillotine if it's all the same. Want me to tell them to bring yours up while I'm at it? Really lean into the story that you're not well?"
Theo winced as Fletcher's words stung deep. He'd be lying though if he didn't recognize the truth in it. He had been behaving very childishly. And had anyone else seen there would have been such hell to pay. Fletcher's tolerance of his antics was admirable to say the least and Theo at least had the good grace to back down.
"Ah, yes good point. And if it's not too much trouble, Mr. Daw then yes I think that wise. I'll leave you to it then. Enjoy your dinner!"
Two days passed. By the afternoon of the second, he'd come up with a plan and engineered a nice little blind spot. He'd let Theo's night nanny off — easily done considering the man's wife was pregnant and about to pop. He'd switched Barty, a fellow guard who just so happened to have a bad bladder, back to the servant's entrance. The two out front he'd swapped from day to night duty on short notice, with full knowledge that they'd fall asleep on the job. The patrol already had a five-minute gap, although Aya would present a problem, so he removed her from it under the guise of giving her some bed rest for an injured paw. And lastly, he'd miraculously convinced Dewey to look the other way at a certain time of the night, and again just before dawn.
All that was left now was to find Theo some clothes that didn't make him stick out like a sore thumb among the common rabble. In his room, with the nanny door wide open for the nobleman to enter, he dug through the dresser and produced a likely-looking shirt and a pair of trousers that had always been too long.
Theo moved himself to stand in the doorway but made no move to enter. It felt wrong being in the room after being chased out a few days prior and with a clearer head it still held a few too many memories for him to want to get caught reminiscing.
"You're sure no one is going to get in trouble for this? I mean we can always say I ran off and you are dragging me back but I don't want anyone else in trouble. It's not their fault and it's not fair to them."
Fletcher grunted at Theo's familiar tune. He tossed the clothes at the man's feet and stood. "You're going to have to trust me at some point, you know," he replied. "I'll not put my own people in the line of fire for a noble. It'll work, so long as you follow my lead. Now try those on, will you? It'll do us no good if nothing fits."
"I do trust you," he protested while bending to pick up the clothes. "It is not a crime to desire reassurance. Your sure fire planning and my bad luck have already run amuck together before."
Theodore carried the clothes off to his own dressing screen not even bothering with closing the nanny door. "I can't see you," he informed as he slipped out of view and began to change. It would be all for naught if he managed to piss off the leader before the adventure began.
The tunic and trousers were thinner than his own clothes but well worn and fit him relatively well aside from everything that didn't. His longer limbs meant that the sleeves and pant legs cut a bit too short and his narrower waist meant that he had to keep pulling the pants up.
"Can you grab me one of my belts please? This should all work otherwise, I think. We just didn't account for you're more filled out than I am."
Stepping out and still holding his pants up with one hand he faced his bodyguard. "How's it look though? Passable?"
"Oh, filled out, am I," Fletcher muttered. He handed Theo the belt and stepped back to consider. "Still too obvious," he grunted. "You're too pretty to pass. We need to cover your — " He trailed off and gestured at most of the man. "Erm. Hold on. I might have something." He ducked back into his own quarters and knelt in front of the dresser, his shadow cutting through a beam of afternoon sun. He hesitated. It seemed stupid to stuff the thing away and leave it as food for the moths, but...still...
Fletcher pulled open the bottom drawer, sending dust motes to sparkle in the air. His hand hovered and he froze as the faintest scent of oakmoss wafted forth from that old, tattered cloak. His throat tightened. "Nope. Stop that," he said to nobody, and he grabbed a fistful of the thing and stood. He held his breath as he shook it out. He returned to Theo's room and offered it to the man.
"Here. Try this on over. There's a bit inside the hood to hide your face. Like a scarf, sort of. Should do fine."
He grimaced and fluffed his hair figuring Fletcher was discussing its well-groomed state, having no idea of his own pretty-boy appearance. The cloak however was unexpected and the earthy scent was comforting in its own way but starkly contrasted what Theo had come to recognize as distinctly Fletcher.
He wrapped it about his shoulders and dragged the hood up while trying to figure out the panel in the front. "People aren't going to be suspicious of a cloaked figure tailing you though?"
It was both a good idea and a terrible one. With the cloak donned and the hood over his hair, Theo almost could have been him. Fletch cleared his throat and pushed the thought aside again. It was a comparison that he refused to allow himself. "Well...I'll tail you, for one. And I think the most you'll be is intimidating. People are likely to give you a wide berth, and that's just fine."
Fletcher took in that uncanny silhouette for as long as he could stand before remembering the last piece of it. "I forgot something. Hang on." He disappeared into his quarters and returned moments later with an old dagger. The sheath was plain and worn, and the hilt tarnished, but when he drew it to check the blade, it had held its razor edge. He resheathed it and offered it to Theo with the handle towards the man. "Just in case. D'you know how to use one?"
"That won't be too boring an evening for you?"
He looked down at the offered blade but made no move to take it. Fletcher had mentioned being involved in some things but Theo had not expected to see signs of it so soon. He recognized its worn and tarnished nature though as something well-used and likely well-made. That did not however rule out its safety in Theo's soft hands.
"Yeah the pointy end goes in the other person, preferably not me or you," he snarked. "Is it...iron?"
"Blade's steel. The rest looks like bronze and bone." He waggled the dagger impatiently, still waiting for Theo to take it. "Do I seem like the kind of man who'd take you anywhere boring?"
Confirming its safety, he tentatively took the handle, holding his breath and it at the same time but felt no stinging pain and so exhaled. "No, Jack. You seem like a lot of things, very few of them even good, but that is not one of them."
Theo smirked while trying to figure out how to handle the knife. Did he tuck it into his belt? Did it attach somewhere? Perhaps his boot? No that wouldn't work. Was he supposed to just hold it the whole night? That could make things difficult.
"Um, what do I—how do I...where does it go on my person exactly? I've never held one before."
"Few of them good?" Fletcher tutted at the man's audacity. "Well, then. If I'm so rotten to the core, I'll understand if you want to replace me. Can't have a bad man looking after you and knowing who you are and helping you have a little fun once in a while when there are so many good ones out there to choose from, can we? And — turn it over. See the loop on the back of the sheath? Run your belt through it, then tie it again."
"Mhm," he replied while trying to undo the belt. "I know, I know. You seem like a big, bad tough guy all strong, so big, very scary. Grr grr grr," Theo continued in the voice specifically reserved for small animals before switching back to his normal tone and yanking the belt free.
"Except, I know that you are not entirely what you seem at first glance. You're a good man who tries to cheer up the people around him and keeps their secrets and manages their safety." Theo worked at looping the dagger through the belt, putting it on first backwards then upside down in his distraction before getting it right. "So I guess I'll just have to keep you around."
And with that Theo's pants unintentionally hit the floor.
Fletcher gave him a withering stare. "I'll show you scary," he shot back, but it sounded empty and petulant after the man had talked to him like he did Aya. He crossed his arms and watched Theo struggle with the scabbard, waiting for him to figure it out. He wished he hadn't been watching that very thing when the man's trousers dropped around his ankles. Thankfully, the shirt was just long enough to cover anything truly shocking. He released a sigh that became a quiet chuckle and turned around to give the man some privacy, smirking in spite of himself.
"I like you best when you're yourself," the nobleman replied even as he scuttled to fix his pants. His cheeks were as red as apples by the time he got them up, the belt successfully on, the scabbard STILL ON the belt, and the cloak refitted over everything.
"Sorry about that. I think everything is now secure and I am completely at your mercy, sir."
Fletch turned back around and looked Theo over, ignoring his comment about mercy. "It'll do," he said. "I don't think anyone will know. Until you open your mouth and your accent snitches on you, of course." Fletcher's eye traveled along the hem of the cloak, tracing every familiar line. His smile softened for one brief moment before he caught himself and closed off again. "Right. We've got, I figure, five hours until we do our little jailbreak. Do what you need to."
Theo snorted in amusement. "You forget Mr. Daw that I speak more than posh trader's tongue. I'll manage that part just fine," declared proudly with his hands in his hips. "You should head down for dinner and then get some rest so no one suspects. Unless there's anything else?"
He hesitated. Why did it bother him so much to leave the thing here with Theo? It was just a fucking cloak. Just an object. "Nothing else," he replied. "Meet me in the kitchen at ten. Kenna should be gone by then."
Fletcher went about his usual routine. He ate with the other staff as he always did. Bantered with Neish. Snuck a hand pie into his pocket and set it on top of his dresser. Did a flawless job of pretending to ready himself for bed. Then he retired to his quarters and laid back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling and thought. Why was he doing this? Theo's problems weren't his to solve. The man had willingly entered the cage. He'd known the consequences. So why was he, Devlin Fletcher, the man's bodyguard, doing a thing that could very well lose him his damned job?
Why try to save a nobleman from a hell of his own making? Because that was it. That was exactly what he was trying to do. What he wanted to do. It hadn't even registered until this very moment that seeing the man so miserable compelled him to lessen the burden. To be kind. To be honest. To give. It was like the luxury of this life had rounded all of his edges. The process had just been slow enough that he hadn't noticed it. "I've grown far too soft," he murmured. Yet that wasn't all of it, and he knew it full well.
Finally, it was time. He rolled from the bed, readied his effects, and slipped out the door. The house was quiet. He doubted that everyone was asleep at this hour, but with any luck, they'd slip out unnoticed. And if not, they had their excuse ready: Theo had run, and Fletcher had simply gone after him. He made his way down the stairs and stepped quietly into the dark kitchen. He waited.
With Fletcher gone, Theo removed the cloak, carefully tucking it away with his rucksack in a safe space under his bed. Crawling in under the covers he found his mind too active to rest. For all his false bravado with his bodyguard, Theodore was still worried. It had been some months since he had last slipped away from the house and even longer still since he had gone out at night. He and Elijah had used to slip out when they were younger and full of invincibility and wonder and...love, although they had not known or spoken it aloud then.
He thumbed the hilt of the dagger at his side in thought. All he had to do was sneak out of his room, slip through the halls in a pattern he knew by heart, meet Fletcher in the kitchen, and follow everything he said from there to the market without question. Easy, right?
Theo chewed on his lip and tried not to think too hard on it all. Yet he found when he stopped, other things flooded his mind in their place. In the last two days he and Fletcher had pretended as if things were normal. Where the nobleman had come unraveled and plain to see, Fletcher had become more of a tangled mystery. There were so many questions bubbling beneath the surface and still Theo held true to his promise and did not force the issue. The look the other human had given him though to see him dressed this way hadn't escaped his gaze. He looked like Ven. He looked like a husband long past and that pained Theodore in a way he couldn't explain. He hated the idea of being a constant reminder: a living ghost that startled old memories to wake. How fair was it to make Fletcher relive that every day he worked beside him?
Yet, as cruel as it was, Theo found himself loathe to let this kind man who wanted to help him, go. He had a friend whether they called it that or not and he was too selfish to give that up. His cage was lonely and he required company to survive. But was it fair to cage another inside this place with him?
He knew better. That was why he had let Elijah go. His bird had flown free and...never returned. Theo sighed and rolled into his side. Would the market be as he remembered it? Would the woman with her hardened sugar-dipped fruits still be selling the strawberries they had adored so much? And did the man with his two sons still have the cart with soup and noodles that Elijah would rave almost tasted like home? For certain the keepers with their caged exotic beasts for pets, fighters, and dinners would be proudly displaying their wares. No matter how many times the lads had sabotaged them there were always many more. Theo still remembered the winged weasel dog beast from Adela that had been so playful and spirited that he had instantly fallen in love with being taken from his cage and beheaded in front of him for its wings and meat. He'd cried for a week straight afterwards and had refused to visit again for well over a month.
And now he'd be going back without his Elijah. Not only that but it would be as if he was alone. Followed but 'free' to do as he pleased. Maybe it really was a mistake. He should just tell Fletcher he changed his mind. Sorry for the trouble. Just go to bed.
But then the moon moved out from behind the clouds and sat at just the right place in the sky as to look like the tree by his balcony was holding it and Theo knew it was now or never. He jammed pillows under his covers and hopped out of bed. His coin purse was attached to his belt and the borrowed cloak was once more secured over his face and shoulders.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
The door opened, the rugs were avoided, the stairs were skipped, and at last he was slinking into the kitchen. His heart pounded within his chest and garbed as freely as he was, he almost felt like it was he that was the danger of the night rather the one in danger of the night.
It didn't take long for Theo to join him. There was that silhouette again against the pale moonlight. He'd really made a mistake, hadn't he? He wasn't going to get used to this at all. What was more, it broke his concentration every time, and that was a risk he didn't want to take. But it was too late now. He'd promised to show Theo one glimmer of happiness, and he was a man of his word. He motioned for the man to follow him to the door — the one he'd greased the hinges of last night. He opened it. Passed through it and out into the night. Held it for Theo. Shut it behind them. Alright. Now the real fun began.
He edged towards the corner and leaned just far enough to peek around it. Sure enough, Barty was there, and sure enough, the nettle extract that he'd dropped in Barty's evening coffee was doing its work. The man practically danced. Fletcher turned back to Theo and held his hands up enough for the man to see them in the moonlight. "When...I...say...go...we...run," he signed in clunky, halting motions. Then he hurriedly leaned back to watch Barty.
It only took a matter of minutes, but by that point, Fletcher was already shivering. Somehow, in all of his planning, he'd forgotten how fuck-awfully cold it got at night. Still, he kept his focus sharp, and when Barty finally scampered off to take a piss behind a distant bush, it was time. Fletch tapped Theo on the shoulder and motioned for the fence.
Theo was amused at the sign language. At least something good had come out of his deafness if it could be used for stealth like this. He signed back his understanding and waited with soft shallow breaths for the signal.
Fletcher touched his shoulder and he bolted. Nobles had it all wrong. His normal clothes while warmer were tighter, thicker, and more restricted. Even sitting at his piano at times felt deeply uncomfortable. He certainly could run like this. He felt like he was flying as he bounded into the stable at last.
Just as Fletcher had predicted one guard had a weak bladder and two more along the way were asleep. One was even heavily snoring. Theodore could only hope that the pair wouldn't be in too much trouble come morning when Fletcher "found" they'd slept through the night.
He nodded as Fletcher came in a few steps behind him, feeling like a champion right up until a high-pitched yip-bark and whine sounded through the quiet stable. Theo found him suddenly set upon by Aya who threw herself at him making all manner of noise as she came in close and rubbed against him before straying away from his reaching hands. He glanced in horror to Fletcher before dropping to his knees and attempting to catch her. Theo dragged her in close against his chest tugging the face covering off to whisper soothingly in her ear.
"Calm girl. Calm. It's me Aya. You know me. It's Theo. Shhh it's okay beautiful one. I've got you. I've got you."
He rubbed his hands over her back and side while looking to Fletcher in anxious concern. Had her sudden outbursts gotten them caught? Did they need to quit and return? Would they even manage to make it back before someone noticed?
Whatever Fletcher said went. And Theo was more than ready to obey it.
"Shit. Shit, shit, shit." He wasn't the only one who'd thought Theo was someone else. And unlike himself, Aya had little control over how she reacted. Why hadn't he thought of it sooner? The nobleman had known how to talk her down from it. Still, the noise would surely wake the guard. They'd come and investigate. He needed to fix this, and fast. He turned and made damned certain his friend could read the words he mouthed.
"Theo. Keep your hood up. Into the woods. Stay low. I'll be there in a bit."
He stuck both hands in his coat pockets. From one, he pulled a crumb of hand pie. From the other, he pulled a cigarette. He'd never lit one so quickly in his life, but this had to be believable or the men wouldn't stop sniffing around. "Aya. Here," he hissed, shoving his closed fist under her nose. It did the trick and kept her close. The last thing he needed was her taking off after Theo.
Sure enough, a minute later, two very sleepy guardsmen approached the stables. Fletch greeted them, puffing away as casual as you please, Aya at his heels as she sniffed after the treat he held. "Sorry, boys," he called. "Just me. Came out to see if her paw's doing alright and I must have scared her in her sleep. Go on back, now."
They bought it, and thank fuck for that. He was glad that the dark had concealed just how tense he really was — and that the stables would block their view as he pulled a saddled miss Maple with him into the woods. But first, he had to put something right. He crouched down and reached out to touch the dog that he so often dismissed. "It's not him, Aya," he murmured as he scratched behind her ear. "You know this. It's not him. It's never going to be him again. Go back to sleep, now." He opened his fingers and let her shove her cold nose into his palm to take the crumb. At her touch, his eye burned, and he stood and backed away, forcing himself calm again. "Stay, girl. You're going to stay." With that, he led the horse into the treeline and out of sight, hoping to all hell that Theo was nearby.
Theo pressed a kiss to Aya's head and gave Fletcher a sharp nod. With a single glance back to make sure they weren't already set upon, he pulled the hood deeper over his head. The nobleman slunk through the shadows on swift feet, hitting the tree line as he heard Fletcher talking in the barn.
He did not stop for a second even as he moved deeper within the forest. Theo knew these trees although it had been some years since he had taken off running between their boughs last the moon overhead provided plenty of light to see by, but in turn provided just as much to be seen by.
Only once Theo felt that he was far enough in so as to not be immediately caught, did he drop between a shrub and a tree trunk. The cloak was pulled tight around him as he peered carefully into the night back towards home. He strained his eyes so hard he could practically feel his pulse in them as he prayed that Fletcher would manage to bring Miss Maple his way and not head in the wrong direction.
Then through the shadows came a hulking figure and another smaller one beside it. Theodore waited until they were nearly past his hiding spot and he could confirm that it was them. As quietly as he could given the dry underground he stepped out of his hiding spot and approached Fletcher from the side. He didn't dare approach the horse from behind and risk getting kicked and still unsure of how close anyone else was, Theo was too afraid to speak out. He reached out and gently wrapped his fingers around Fletcher's wrist.
A hand closed around his wrist, and for a split second, he was all fight. By the time he caught on, the back of his fist was a hair's breadth from punishing Theo's nose. He released the breath he'd pulled in and dropped his arm to his side, turning a bit more so that he could see more fully the man who'd come up on his blind spot. "Sorry," he mouthed, wincing at the thought of what he could have just done to Theo. And how would they explain a bruise away the next morning? "Let's go. Parallel the road."
Having learned his lesson, he circled to the other side of miss Maple and led the three of them through the woods until they were no longer in view or earshot of his own guards. There they emerged into the grass beside the road that led to town, and with no further ado, he climbed up to sit in the saddle. He was a bit awkward doing it. It was clear that he wasn't a natural. But he knew how to ride well enough, and he'd get them there and back.
Fletcher looked down at Theo from atop the horse, his expression cryptic. He shivered. "Told you I could do it," he said. "Come on, pretty boy. Let's go make a night of it."
"I never doubted you," Theo replied softly as he stared up at Fletcher. There was something about the way he towered over him in that moment that felt powerful. It was like Fletcher was invincible and could make anything happen that he wanted, like he could keep Theo safe and it actually would stay that way.
He blushed deeply, glad for the cover of the hood that kept him from being seen and teased further. One hand on the back of the saddle and one on Fletcher's upper thigh to stabilize himself, the nobleman relatively easily and quickly pulled himself up to sit behind the saddle. His arms came to wrap around his bodyguard, dragging him back in the saddle some and incidentally closer to his own chest.
"If you sit too far forward you'll unbalance us," he explained in a soft voice close to Fletcher's ear. "Miss Maple doesn't like people sitting too close to her shoulders."
Theo looked back over his shoulder to see if he could catch sight of any moving shadows or figures in the moonlight. This entire operation made him incredibly anxious. With no clear line of sight among the trees he had no way of knowing how close someone was or if they were even being pursued. There was no silencing of nighttime sounds or crunch of dry leaf litter under foot for a deaf man to notice. He was completely at Fletcher's mercy to be aware of their surroundings. But, he had trusted him this far and he wasn't about to stop now.
"Ready when you are."
The back of his neck prickled at the whisper in his ear and the firm grip around his chest as that memory of a scent taunted him again. Honestly, he hadn't thought this far ahead. He knew where they were going and how they'd get there, and he had most of a plan for how to get them back home unseen. But he hadn't considered what any of this would do to him. Or maybe he'd just been too cocky in assuming he'd be infallible to so many painful little reminders all at once.
With their communication effectively cut off, Fletcher nodded at the man's words, shifted his weight back, and clicked his tongue, nudging miss Maple into a trot. There was no sense in pushing her too hard with this much weight on her back. What was more, the faster they went, the more the wind would wick the heat from his body, and he was underdressed for this as it was. Even at that leisurely pace, though, they made good time. He wound them through the streets, careful of anyone or anything that could harm or spook the horse, lest Dewey tear into him when he returned her. All the while, the sounds and colors and enticing smells of the night market beckoned them closer.
At last, he turned down an alley, slowed miss Maple to stop near a stable, and motioned for Theo to dismount.
He dismounted easily and stepped away to allow Fletcher to handle their horse boarding affairs while making a mental note to pay the man back in the morning. Theo stepped out into the main road first and found that just as he had remained stagnant and trapped indoors, the outdoors had done little to change either. There were the same people, the same smells, the same sights, and yet he was not the same him.
As he walked ahead and slowly took in the various wares and sellers around him, Theo found himself lonelier than ever. The last time he had been here, Elijah had stood at his elbow. Now, Fletcher trailed at his back. He felt greedy wishing either could have walked beside him. But, he couldn't bring himself to ask. Fletcher was already doing far too much for him. He owed so much to the other man already and to ask for more was to be disgustingly selfish and self-centered.
Familiar banners and colors caught his eye though and warmth filled him as his footsteps took him closer. Theo raised one hand high, palm out and fingers splayed as the Oratok seller returned the gesture. Then a deep, guttural set of harsh sounds came from the nobleman's throat causing the man across from him to laugh and return the greeting. Theodore was animated as he spoke, seeming to never fumble as he discussed the Ketran wares, pointing to different items and asking questions before finally settling on a small carved bone sculpture that he easily slipped into his pocket and produced coin for with the ease of someone who made such transactions on the daily instead of fumbled or had their manservant do it for them.
Another close by stall had the dipped strawberries he had only just been thinking of hours earlier but these he passed with a single lingering glance before proceeding to the next vendor selling what she claimed to be authentic and exotic Essyrni fare. Theo knew better but still bought an extra charred skewer of "kadiir" that he knew was actually chicken. He pulled the chunks of meat off as he walked, tossing them one by one into the alleys as he passed where abandoned and forgotten strays tended to gather. The charcoal however was rubbed into his hands and fingers making him appear to be more belonging than he actually felt.
What was he to do now? The night air was cool and fresh but his thoughts drifted back to Fletcher. He had asked him if he would be bored following him about but the man had failed to answer. Now all Theo could think of was how this cloak kept him warm even as Fletcher had continued to shiver the last few weeks in his thin coat. The poor man must be so cold and here Theo was out trying to have the time of his life as if it didn't effect other people.
Spying more fires ahead smelling enticingly of cooked meats, the nobleman plodded ahead, finding a vendor selling jewelry to pretend to be focused on even as he allowed Fletcher the distance to stand where it was warm. The woman in front of him meanwhile was busy trying to convince him to buy a pretty ring for his pretty lady. It was all nonsense to him of course but her words made him recognize and remember what Fletcher had called him.
Pretty boy.
Was this the new form of teasing he was to expect given his newly revealed sexual orientation? Or was it an old habit of his bodyguard's brought on by seeing Ven in Theodore. It was likely this. Why else would Fletcher keep a warm cloak and refuse to wear it or look at him with eyes clouded with old ghosts? He was just another reminder. It was likely best not to allow this to happen again. While a nice treat, he didn't need to be torturing Fletcher further. The man endured enough as it was. More was just taking further advantage.
It wasn't his idea of fun, of course. What good was a market to a man whose fingers scraped the bottom of his purse every week? True, he much preferred the city to rotting away in that manor, but he wanted something very different from it than what a night market could provide. He wanted a real distraction. Something with a punch, a thrill, a way to feel alive. But chances were that anything Fletcher truly enjoyed would mortify his careful, anxious charge, so he'd seek it in his own time. This outing wasn't about what he wanted at all. It was to let the bird stretch his wings for a little while.
Theo knew his way around much more than he'd expected. As he watched the man move from stall to stall, navigating languages and transactions with relative ease, he began to wonder just how free this little bird was before he made his so-called deal with devils. Or if, before Fletcher put so many more fences up, the man had made these escapes a more frequent habit. His stomach dropped at the thought. He'd been so cocksure that day: swaggering in like he owned the place and changing up security. But all he'd done was side with nobles to punish a man who deserved none of it. Now he was trapped. It was like he'd told Theo that same afternoon of his arrival: if he left, who was to say that his replacement would be so understanding?
It hit him then as he watched his friend saunter and breathe in the night, Ven's cloak swaying and fluttering behind him. He was no longer free to do what he wanted, when he wanted, wherever he wanted. He was bound to this. Responsible for this. He had to stay. He had to stay. Because leaving meant abandoning Theo to his fate, and, much as he hated to admit it...he cared.
He cared a great fucking deal.
Fletcher winced at the realization and stuffed it right back down beneath his black heart and glanced about wildly for something to distract him. Theo had paused and now lingered near a cooking fire. Whether or not the man had done it as a mercy or just as a coincidence, Fletch would take it. He held his fingers out over the flames until he could feel them again, then shoved his hands back in his pockets. He stepped up beside his friend. That he'd been deep in thought moments before was plain on his face.
"So." He paused and glanced between Theo and the jewelry display as the question congealed. "Since we're out of the cage. Night is young, and all. Anything else you want to do? Might as well check off your list while we're free."
Theo startled at Fletcher suddenly being close and speaking to him. He looked up at the man, a single pair of eyes staring brightly out of a shadowed cowl, in complete surprise yet delight. He bobbed his head to the vendor and gently took Fletcher's elbow to redirect him into walking with him, although he did not let go as they started.
"I thought you said you wished to tail me the whole night. I admit, I like the idea of spending it side-by-side better though. So please stay. I'll bribe you with sweets if that eases the blow," he teased softly. "I bought Aneisha a little dragon carving. But, I'd like to get something for Dewey as a thank you. Thoughts?"
Behind them in the ever-moving crowd a tiny figure tailed behind them, moving ever closer to Theo's open side and hidden coinpurse.
"I said I would, not that I...it's just safer if I'm watching your back, that's all." He'd turned his head enough for Theo to read him, but not so much that he couldn't still keep an eye out. Walking like this made him nervous. He didn't like having a blind spot the shape and size of the man he was supposed to protect. And having Theo on his arm like a woman, in public, set him very much on edge — even if the man had been subtle about it, and the cloak hid that touch.
But he'd asked Fletcher to stay. So Fletcher stayed.
"Theo," he said. "You've known me how long now, and you think my vice is sweets?" He swiveled back to scan the crowd again and thought on the man's question for a bit. "Dewey...haven't the foggiest. Can think of more for the horses than for him." He chuckled, then added, "Find him a girlfriend."
"You haven't had these sweets," he hummed back knowingly. "And buying you tobacco and rolling paper hardly seems like a treat no matter how fast you burn through them, literally. Let someone do something nice for you for once and try not to hide your abashment behind snarkyness. Just once."
Theo groan-sighed in exasperation, shaking his head heavily in his hood even as he let go of Fletcher's elbow and smacked his side lightly. "How long have you known me and you think I'd be any better than him at finding a girlfriend? 'Sides he's--"
A faint brush caused his coinpurse to shift just so and Theodore's hand shot back to latch onto a tiny wrist in a fierce grip. Still holding tight he spun away from Fletcher and dropped into a kneeling crouch in front of a clearly caught and panicked, struggling child.
"Now then, none of that," he spoke softly. "Or do you speak Serenian?"
The child stilled and nodded her head looking absolutely terrified as her eyes darted between the two figures. Theo sighed and reached out with his other hand so he was holding both of hers more gently. "Are you hungry?" The little girl nodded her head again vigorously as the nobleman watched her with kind and speculative eyes. She could not have been more then six, seven at most. He knew better than to ask after her family.
He pulled his coinpurse from his belt and handed it to Fletcher for safe keeping before getting to his feet and tugging the little girl along by the hand. "Let's get you something to eat, I have a job for you and pay should you deliver."
"Can you get some stew for my little helper," Theo asked Fletcher, switching back to Trader's Tongue for his sake. "And some for yourself if you'd like."
Fletcher watched, first in alarm, then in begrudging admiration, as Theo calmly diffused what could have been a tense situation. Had it been his money at risk of being stolen, there would have been a lot more yelling and cursing involved. Maybe some threats. Instead, he'd suddenly been tasked with finding the girl some food. Much as he didn't actually like the nobleman bossing him around, he'd been where that girl was. So sure. He'd throw the kid a bone.
"No need," he replied as he took the purse and headed off to fetch some stew. He returned shortly with one steaming bowl and stood with it in hand where Theo could read him. "What's so important that she's gotta do it before eating?" he asked.
With Fletcher gone, Theo lead the little girl to a place where they could sit and talk quietly. He explained how he wanted her to go to a specific tailor and pick up a specific winter coat and take it to the stables where they had boarded Miss Maple. While at the tailor's shop though she was also to get a different one in whatever color she wanted for herself using the money he would give her. Once those tasks were complete, whatever was leftover was hers to keep.
She eyed him skeptically but seemed to consider she had no choice given he had her a captive audience and her loot had been transferred to another. Theo took no insult on the matter and simply remained calm and congenial until Fletcher's return.
"Nothing. Food first," he took the bowl from the bodyguard and carefully handed down to her "job after."
He minded that she started eating but otherwise let her do her thing in relative peace. "What I was saying though is that Dewey has eyes for someone so finding him a girlfriend would be useless."
Fletch glanced between Theo and the girl. "Nothing, ey? Sure looks like it." But he was soon distracted by a bit of gossip that he'd somehow missed. Granted, he didn't talk much with Dewey. They didn't have anything in common but the damned dog. With the way that Orz ran his mouth, he'd just assumed that he heard everything that happened there.
"Who's the lucky lady?" he asked. Then a shadow fell over him as he put two and two together. "If it's Neish, I'm having a little chat with him about that. Man to man."
Theo gave Fletcher such a series of looks as he spoke. First the eyeroll at Fletcher's prying although he gave nothing away. Then, amusement that became even larger amusement at him guessing who the lucky lady was. Finally topped off with exasperation at the protectiveness.
"Leave the poor boy be. He's already not approached her since you showed up and he's devastatingly shy to boot. If you talk to him he'll likely never speak again let alone look at anyone who is above floor height."
Looking to the little helper, he added more softly. "'Sides he'd be mighty good for her. She can't be a pirate queen forever, Jack."
"It's Neish?" His concern was obvious past the willful look he now gave the nobleman. As he thought on it, he lit himself a smoke. "Fine," he said. "They're both grown. They do what they want. I won't corner the bastard. But it's good that he knows who he's answering to if she comes crying to me."
Fletcher looked down at the girl again. "You know...when I asked what you wanted to do...feeding orphans wasn't what I meant. Are we waiting here while she does this job of yours?"
"Grown," Theo murmured, sounding every bit like he didn't agree at all. "If anything I feel like she's more likely to make him cry if we're being honest. Perhaps should be him you're counseling about rogue girls."
The nobleman plucked his coin purse back out of Fletcher's hand and began to count out half of the contents. This he dropped into his bodyguard's pocket before handing the rest of the purse to the little girl.
Taking the bowl from her he continued, "you know what to do and where to go. The rest is yours. Keep it and yourself safe, yeah?" He patted her head and took the empty bowl from her moments before she scurried off as fast as her little legs good carry her in the opposite direction.
"We should return this," he added as he got back to his feet. "But, no. She'll do the job or she won't," Theo shrugged. "There is no need to wait."
He sighed as they rejoined the main road and returned the bowl, taking in the other stalls and vendors around them. "Do you think he can talk to bees? Dewey that is. I never considered whether insects count or not.
"Oh look! Knife throwing and archery. I bet you'd miss every target. No prizes for you," he teased cheekily.
They walked on with Fletcher on Theo's right again. He went strangely quiet as he fell deep into thought, and his only reply to the man's musings was a distracted, single snort of a laugh. Theo was different outside of his cage. With the crushing burden lifted even temporarily, it was like a part of him had woken up: a quiet confidence that fit seamlessly alongside his stubbornness. Or maybe his self-pity was gone, and it was such a weighty thing that other parts of him rose to fill the void.
Either way: Fletcher dreaded shoving him back into the cage. There had to be a way out of this. Maybe Theo had resigned himself to this arrangement until he withered and died, but from where Fletcher stood, there was almost certainly a path forward — one where the staff was safe, and Theo's man, too. He just needed to spend some time thinking about it. That was all.
He glanced over at the stand and arched a brow at Theo. "If you're going to shit talk, I'd like to see you try, then. Go on. It's in your name, isn't it?"
Theo shrugged but eyed the bows with a bit of interest kindling in his eyes. "I suppose it is." With zero hesitation he slipped his hand into Fletcher's coat pocket and handed the coin over to start the game. He fumbled with the bow and managed to knock all the arrows to the ground and had to retrieve them before he could attempt getting started. Then it was his cloak getting in the way and caught on his elbow as he tried to pull back the bowstring. Finally, the arrow was notched, his stance was...rough, and his eyes were on the target. Theo let the arrow fly and watched as it just barely cleared the counter before flopping dead onto the ground.
He peered over the counter to see its demise before a series of soft giggles erupted from within him. "Well, that went well," he quipped. The remaining five arrows fared little better with only the last coming even close to the target. Theodore however was all smiles beneath his mask and constant giggles.
"Your turn then. Now that I've shown you how it's done," he tried to say with a straight face while handing over the bow. It was not manageable for Theo however and he soon broke out into another case of maniacal little cackles.
It was good to see the man laugh. Fletcher couldn't help but crack a grin himself at the sound of it. Then Theo handed him the bow, and his face fell again. "Wouldn't know the first thing about shooting one of these," he muttered as he, too, struggled to nock an arrow. "Maybe could have done decent with the knives, but..."
Fletcher grunted as he pulled back the string. Aiming was already difficult without his other eye. It was going to be impossible with a weapon he'd never had to use in earnest. Sure enough, the arrow flew way off to the left and clattered to the street. "Shit," he commented, and drew another. He fared no better with the next two: one he overcorrected to the right, and the other went high. He began to chuckle, too. "You feel safe yet, sir?" he joked.
By the fifth arrow, he'd learned to hit the target — technically. It struck about half an inch from the side and wobbled there like it might fall out. Fletch released a disappointed sigh and handed back the bow. "Guess I'm adding this to my routine so I can show off next time we're out. What did we win? Lighter pockets?"
He clapped when Fletcher hit the target as wobbly and unsure as it was being considered a hit. "Now I'm just imagining you standing in your little window trying to rain hellfire down upon would-be assailants. At least yours cleared the table. I think I'd just have better luck chucking them by hand in the event of a real situation."
Theo used both hands to gleefully push Fletcher to the next stand with the knife throwing and tossed two coins onto the counter with the enthusiasm of a man much younger than he actually was. "Well go on then. Show off 'decent.' The way my luck is going mine will end up behind us," he joked while trying to flip one of his own knives and having to jerk his hand away at the last minute as he landed point down in the ground. "Case in point," he muttered while retrieving it.
"Yeah. I'kanans won't know what hit them," Fletcher grumbled. "Alright, alright, I'm going, I'm going. You really making me put my money where my mouth is?" He allowed Theo to steer him to the next stand and inspected the throwing knives. "Well that's a piece of shit if I've ever seen one," he muttered as he lifted one and felt the balance. He ignored the nasty look the stall owner shot him. He suspected that the man had intentionally weighted them wrong to throw the game, but he wasn't about to start an argument. Instead, he shut his mouth, assumed a throwing stance, and narrowed his good eye. He thought of those times when a thrown blade had meant the difference between life and death. How it had felt when the handle left his fingers. How it had sounded as it sank into his target.
The knife hit wood with a resolute thunk. It wasn't a bullseye, but still — it was plenty enough to gloat. He turned to Theo, grinning wide. "Beat that, then."
"Ok then," Theo spoke with far more confidence than he really should have had for a man that nearly stabbed himself through the palm and then the foot. He attempted to copy Fletcher's stance even as his head filled with thoughts of the other man finally relaxing and grinning. He was feeling so proud of himself for finding something to cheer up his friend even if it meant making an utter fool of himself in the process. What he hadn't expected though was the little flutter in his chest as his bodyguard hit the mark.
'Of course he succeeded. He was hired for a reason. How can you get all giddy over that?'
His cheeks flushed as his heart pounded in his eyes making it hard to focus. The knife flew from his hand making one revolution before smacking flat against the center of the target like a bird hitting a magical barrier.
"I mean...it was the center. That has to count for something right?" Theo giggled more as they took turns throwing. Not a single one of his knives landed properly. Two missed entirely forcing the stall owner to retreat with a dirty glare. One embedded itself in the base of the target by the quillion and another hit the counter so hard it the blade was three-quarters buried deep in the wood and he'd been unable to remove it himself.
With the last still in his hand he tried once more to square off properly. He inhaled slow and steady remembering those spring mornings so long ago when he'd tried to learn archery from Elijah. How the man had been too short and yet had such a presence in the moment as to feel twice as tall. Breathe in, exhale, release. Time had seemed to slow then when soft hands had readjusted his stance and pressed warm against his chilled flesh. But the words still lingered, etched into his back from when Elijah had inscribed instructions with a single finger as if his skin was paper to his pen.
Theo exhaled, his eyes slowly closing as he threw. A solid thunk later had him quickly opening them in hopeful surprised excitement. The emotion quickly turned into groaning resignation. "Just kill me now. I'm not worth it at this point," he joked while staring in mild horror at the dagger only a hand's width off from the center embedded in the target by its hilt.
"Heyyy!" Fletcher laughed. "No, no. I think that means you've won. Look. He's dead, he's stiff as a board." A younger him might have given Theo a ribbing for it and shown him how it was really done. But truthfully, he hesitated. There had been a look in the man's eyes when he'd landed it on the first shot. He wasn't sure, now, whether he wanted him to see any more. To see how much...practice he'd had. Theo must have had an inkling by now, but that was a far cry from knowing the full of it.
With that doubt, his smile faltered. "You want mine? Here. Four more shots."
"No, no, no," he protested, pushing the knives back. "I wanna see you try. Gotta make sure my keeper is up to snuff and can actually do his job," he joked with an almost straight face. It lasted all but seconds before his eyes were crinkling and he snorted in ill-contained laughter. More softly he added, "you're having fun. I don't mind being shown up. I know this is supposed to be your literal job."
"Erm." Fletcher looked down at the knives again and chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Suppose you have a point, there. Alright." He slid one off the counter and held it above his shoulder like he had before. He briefly considered missing on purpose to spare Theo some level of understanding of exactly who his bodyguard was. Very briefly.
He threw. Hit the second ring. Then he threw again, in rapid succession, until, within the span of twelve seconds, all four knives had sunk into the wood. The last two of them stuck dead center. He grimaced and shot Theo a rather sheepish look. "You did ask," he said.
Theo watched in pure awe at Fletcher's skill and speed. He wasn't sure he even breathed during the display and when finished looked down at his bodyguard slack-jawed and wide-eyed. His voice was brimming with pride and confidence like he'd never expressed before as he turned to the stall operator.
"I believe that earns him a prize, does it not?"
"He cheated," the man spat back, slapping the back of his hand against a painted sign. "The rules clearly state amateurs only!"
The nobleman quietly looked at the sign that was very obviously not written in any of the languages of the region. The longer his silent pause was, the wider the merchant grinned thinking himself successful in his scam.
"Actually it doesn't," Theodore finally piped up. "The only prohibitions on it are no drunks and no soldiers. Says nothing about amateurs at all in fact." He thumped his palm on the counter twice. "Pay up."
The man sneered back at him but hurried to change his tune when Theo's hand drifted towards the still counter-embedded knife. "Just go, go you're terrible both of you!" The man snatched down a misshapen stuffed toy with one short round ear and one longer lopsided one and chucked it at Fletcher's chest. "Don't come here again."
Theo shrugged, looking entirely too smug for his own good as he motioned with his head for Fletcher to come along. "Thank you for trying to be modest for my sake. I know it's hard with a head as big as yours. Now then, it's been all very much what I want. Why don't you pick something?"
As they turned away and continued down the street, Fletch shoved the franken-bear at Theo. "Here. Keep it. Give it to Aya or something." He glanced over his shoulder at the furious stall operator, gave the man a cheeky wave to rub it in, and let loose a dark chuckle. He turned to Theo, still greatly amused by the nobleman's unexpected antics. "Look at you, shaking down a poor, honest vendor. Threatening him with his own knife. Who's the rogue, then?"
Fletcher gave his friend a playful little shove at the jab, then slowed as he considered the question. "We're not here for me, though, are we?" he replied. "I can sneak out anytime." He peered at the thin, shadowy slit where Theo's eyes glittered, and suddenly he was serious again. "Stop making yourself small," he said. "Take what you want from life. You've only got one."
"Honest my left butt cheek," he hissed back, squeezing the plush monstrosity close. "You said it yourself, the knives were weighted and also the sign was a food menu. He couldn't read it either. Must have tried to salvage it since it's Essyrni and makes it look more enticing.
Theo snorted and regained his balance from the shove, looking every bit as happy as he clearly felt when Fletcher's words came down heavy upon his shoulders. For several steps he was simply quiet as they walked. He looked ahead to the other vendors but his heart wasn't in it for the moment.
"I've taken enough. Let others have what they want. Everyone deserves a spot at the table and mine is too large already."
Fletcher made an agitated grunt at what he considered to be, at best, a flawed argument mired in the man's own guilt. There were a million things he could say, and none of them would do any good. He could lecture Theo. He could remind him that there were consequences to everything, even inaction. That trying over and over to dodge the worst outcome would still inevitably produce pain and suffering somewhere, for someone. That there was no running from it just by being small and quiet.
But another thought hung far heavier. A dark one. A selfish one. And it came out of him before he could think to shut it out. He stepped in front of Theo and stopped in his tracks. "That's bull. I've already watched one man give up. I'm not keen on it happening again. Are you really going to do that? Keep backing down and fading away until you're gone?"
Fletcher rubbed at his face as his own words whipped back to sting him. "Look. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
He looked up as Fletcher suddenly made him stop, his eyes sliding from the man's face to his lips as he took in his heartfelt words. Theo's own heart pained in empathy for what Fletcher had likely endured, what he could only imagine the other man had seen and felt still to this day.
"No, no," he breathed calmly and tiredly. "You are right. And truthfully...I don't know. I know only that I am too much of a coward to disappear myself. So at least that won't be one of your worries. I understand too though if this is you saying you quit. You're not the first to do that either and I don't hold it against you. This is yours," Theo added gently pressing the bear-bunny hybrid into Fletcher's chest and doing his best to not look at him. "You should keep it."
He hung his head, desperately not wanting to see Fletcher's disgust for him as he obviously stared at his boots instead. He'd done it now, gone and alienated his first friend in over a decade. And now he was going to be alone again all because he was too much of a coward to stand up to his father or to accept he wouldn't have his comfortable lifestyle if he just ran away. By now it was too late to find Elijah, although Fletcher had offered and seemed more than confident that he could. And he wasn't even sure that Elijah would still want him...or worse yet, that he still even wanted Elijah. It was easier not knowing. Everything was always easier not knowing, not acting, fading, and drifting until there was nothing left of him. But here was someone who was plunging elbow-deep in the icy mire that was his own misery to try and pull him out, and Theo hated himself for it. Fletcher deserved a far better friend than him.
"Theo. I'm not — why would I quit — oh for fuck's sake." His good eye just about rolled back into his skull as Theo's gaze dropped to the ground, effectively cutting him off. Fletcher sighed, shoved the bear impatiently beneath one arm, and ran his other hand down his face again. He scratched his stubbled jaw and stared up at the sky like some god or another could save him from this melodrama. "Alright," he murmured. "That's enough."
With a grip that left no room for misunderstanding, Fletcher grabbed Theo's arm and began to pull him along. "I need a drink. You need a drink. We're finding a pub."
Theo startled at being grabbed and looked up at Fletcher in a panic that something was wrong. Perhaps they had been found out and needed to whisk away quickly? No, Fletcher wanted to drink. Well, Theo couldn't fault him for that. He had asked the other man to choose whatever he wanted. And he couldn't deny him a final send off.
He allowed himself to be tugged along to whatever seedy establishment his bodyguard deemed safe enough for him. Yet, he was still thrown off by how such a crowded and clearly animated place was utterly silent for him. Did Fletcher find such a place loud and overwhelming? Or was he the type to be just as enamored and one of the crowd as the rest of the people going about their business here.
The lighting was dim and it was hard to not bump into people as they wove through all manner of drunks in various stages of being...drunk. Theo pressed himself closer to Fletcher's side, anxious about being lost in the minor chaos that was a busy pub night.
Fletch wound them through the worst of the rowdiness and headed for the back, seeking a good spot to watch without being watched. Or stepped on. Or spilled on. Or worse. One corner was thankfully empty, and he motioned for Theo to sit there against the wall, and then to wait. He stopped and looked the man over for a moment as though he was trying to determine something, then set the bear down, turned, and headed for the bar. It hadn't occurred to him that the man could "hear" him just fine over the cacophony, and that he very well could have asked him what he wanted to drink instead of guessing. It also hadn't occurred to him, as he dove back into the fray with the absolute confidence of a man who positively lived in these establishments, that dragging Theo to a pub might be a mistake in many ways.
A few minutes later, a glass of whiskey in one hand, a bottle under the same arm, and a glass of wine in the other, he lowered himself bodily to the bench and set Theo's drink in front of him. "Cheers," he muttered, and upended his whiskey. He set the glass back down and raised his brow. "Like I was saying before you decided your boots made for better conversation: I'm not quitting. It's not an option. I don't know where you got the idea, frankly."
Being placed in the corner with a teddy bear as his guard felt very, very much like being sent to the naughty corner. And if Theo was being entirely honest with himself, it likely wasn't undeserved either. Still, the nobleman remained quiet and well-behaved, taking in all the sights and smells around him while he waited for Fletcher's return.
He had the good grace to look sheepish too as he tugged down the face panel of the hood and realized what his bodyguard was saying. "Sorry. I shouldn't have behaved so childishly. Not much better than a toddler covering his ears I imagine."
Theo took a sip of his wine, eyeing the bottle on the table but saying nothing. "It is an option though, if that's what you wanted. I can give references and severance pay and whatever other demands you might have. Don't ever feel like you have to be trapped in this. There are options and ways to make things work."
Fletch poured himself another as he listened to Theo. The man was so determined to believe that he'd up and leave. That what kept him here was reputation and money. Well...that much was fair, seeing as how he himself hadn't realized it was anything to the contrary until earlier that evening. He ran his fingers along the facets in the glass and considered the friend he'd chosen. The obligations he'd now saddled himself with. To Theo, it must have been jarring to have a one-eyed man peering into his soul, cryptic and deep in thought, for what felt like forever.
"Nah," Fletcher said finally, and took a sip of his second whiskey. He leaned back and sighed appreciatively of the drink. "Couldn't give a rat's ass about any of that. I dunno what you've convinced yourself of, exactly, but I'm not quitting." He paused, frowning. "Where did you get that idea?"
He peeked over at Fletcher when he started to speak. There was hope and curiosity in the gaze but also a veil of reserved concern. Theo was still afraid of getting dinged for the fact he had allowed his walls to fall and let his bodyguard see him and all his vulnerabilities. This was the stage, he had learned from time and experience, that people usually left. So why would Fletcher be any different?
Theo drained his entire glass before pouring a shot of his bodyguard's whiskey into his own glass and downing that too with a wince. "You said you weren't keen on watching it happen again. Sounded pretty final to me given how you hate my pity parties and I'm...me."
"Pfff." Fletcher chuckled up at the ceiling and kept right on nursing his whiskey. It felt like the only thing keeping him sane at that moment. "Yeah, well...can't be worse than him, can you?" he muttered to himself with a wry, exasperated grin. He stayed like that for a moment, just staring and thinking, staring and thinking. Then he leaned forward and set his glass down and smiled into Theo's soul again with that same strange, determined expression.
"I'm not going to watch it happen again, because you're not going to do it. Not...it it. You're not selfish like that. I mean rotting away. What's more, doing it for the so-called benefit of everyone else like you're some sort of martyr. That's what's bullshit, Theo. It's got one hell of a stink. Yeah, help yourself. I'll be stumbling if I get to the bottom of this," he added, gesturing to the bottle before finishing his own drink and pouring a third. He knew it was a bad idea. His lips were already numb, and he was warm, and that smile refused to leave him. He'd known he'd lost some of his tolerance, but he hadn't realized just how bad it was until it hit him all at once.
"So," he continued. "I'm staying. And you're not leaving before the show's over. And it's not over. So stop leaving."
Theo's eyes winded at the look Fletcher was giving him. It was intense and aware and present in a way that made him feel like a hare before the hunter and want to run. He was being seen. No, it was more than that; he was being perceived and understood. It made his heart race and then the words were flowing from Fletcher, and Theodore wondered how much was drink and how much was passion.
The way he looked at him, the way he spoke to him, it all made him feel things he wasn't entirely sure what it all meant. It was as if Fletcher had cast an enchantment of some sort on him that with every word he spoke, Theo felt more compelled to believe in him, to follow him, to do right by him, to want to not cause him more suffering.
His heart was pounding. Had the alcohol really worked that fast? What were the nobles serving him at all their high-to-do functions that made it taste like water next to this? At the rate Fletcher was going, Theodore knew he had no chance of keeping up. Still, he poured himself a second shot and moved the bottle further out of the other man's reach. His eyes darted from Fletcher's grin to his eye. The gaze was still just as intense.
"I'm here," he found himself breathing. "I'm not going anywhere. I swear to you, Jack. I'm here and I aim to keep it that way."
Fletch's eye darted between Theo's like he was trying to read the man's mind. Then —
"Right. Good."
He relaxed against the wall. He lifted his glass halfway to his lips, realized what a terrible idea that was, and set it back down. "Old habits," he explained. "Not used to being such a lightweight. Thanks for rescuing me from the bottle. I, er...didn't take you for a whiskey man, though."
"I'm not," he replied, fingering his glass. "But, you see my friend is and he recently introduced me to it so might as well share it with him. No one should have to drink alone."
Theo likewise slowly relaxed back in his seat and stretched his long legs out under the table. "So if you don't drink and you don't explore the market, what does a Jack do on his free nights away from fearless lady pirates and pretty boy pianists?"
Fletcher laughed, but it was a nervous one. From previous conversations, he'd gotten the impression that Theo knew exactly what he got up to. So either he'd made a lucky guess before, or he was toying with him. "I did call you that out loud, didn't I?" he replied with a sheepish grin. He swirled the whiskey around in his glass and then took another sip to medicate the nerves away. "Thought it was obvious. I...go to the Siren. And I cure what ails me. And then I go back home."
He shrugged, then added, "When I'm not getting into fights with big, bad men, of course. I've a reputation to uphold, after all." It hadn't been a joke, but as always, Fletch had told it like one. He tilted his head curiously. "We've talked about this before. I really thought you knew."
Far from the first time of the evening, Theodore turned another delightful shade of pink. He was quick to throw back his shot and pour another that he did not touch. The alcohol burned but did little to quench his suddenly parched throat. It also appeared that the ground was not in the mood to be swallowing people up as he was also still sitting there in one piece.
"I—you did. I have been listening and I do remember. I just mm didn't realize that was all. Sorry. I don't exactly know what else I expected. Or well um, guess that means you must like it there, ha-ha." Theodore laughed nervously even as his eyes seemed to scream 'murder me now, I'll go easily I promise.'
'Honorable Theodore Archer what the HELL is wrong with you? What are you going to do next? Ask him which Siren is his favorite? You're ridiculous!'
"It's not all. Didn't I just tell you I get into fights, too? You think the cuts and bruises are just me falling down the stairs?" Fletcher leaned back and squinted like he was trying to sort something out. "You...really don't, erm...get out...much, do you?" he asked. "At all. Ever." As the thought dawned on him, his cockiness melted away, replaced by deep concern. "Fuck," he grunted. "It really is hell. I'm sorry. Really, I am. I'd lose it."
Shaking his head, eye wide in amazement that Theo hadn't keeled over dead in the last fifteen years, Fletcher dug a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. "And...it's not that I like it there that much," he added. "I'm just bored. And an insufferable rake."
He pursed his lips together and grinned in that deeply uncomfortable manner people do when they are trying to be polite and don't know what to say. Theo's eyes slid from point to point as he took it in as best as he could all while internally screaming at himself.
"No. Never," he responded rather flatly. "This is the first time I've been out to the night market in over fifteen years. And I haven't been out to the day market since a rogue turned me into a human pancake."
Theo shrugged, having no understanding of what he was actually missing out on. He was by no means offended by any of it. "It doesn't bother me if you're a rake or a hoe or a plow. Everyone is different and if it makes you happy..." He shrugged again. "I just assumed you liked...very feisty women. Or wooed someone's wife who didn't take kindly to it."
Fletcher stared for a moment in disbelief. He snorted — and then barely managed to rescue his cigarette before he burst out laughing. "Suppose I'm all three, then," he managed in between bouts. "That's good. You're funny when you put your mind to it." He wiped the water from his eye and wondered if it had actually been that funny, or if he was just really tipsy now.
"And no. Not that kind of feisty." Fletch scratched his chin. "Suppose now that you ask, and I have to answer, I'm really quite dull. Losing my edge in my old age. Shame." He nursed the whiskey, determined not to leave the pub stumbling lest he screw it all up by being unable to sneak Theo back in the way they'd come. The last thing he wanted was to ruin any future chances for the man to taste freedom. And on that subject...
"Theo," he murmured, leaning his elbow on the table and his cheek in his hand. He blinked slowly and tried his best to bring his friend into focus. "If you could go anywhere. See anything. If you got out, you know. What would it be?"
Theo blinked in surprise, not really understanding what was so funny. But, he smiled slowly to see the other man so very amused. His face softened in laughter in such a way that Theo found himself wanting to see that he always was happy.
The way that Fletcher looked at him now though, Theo recognized for what it was. The other man was clearly quite tipsy. He could only hope that his bodyguard would sober up just as quickly for their ride home.
His question however drew his thoughts away from the logistics of such things and focused squarely on himself. Theo sat silently while he contemplated what he would do if he had all the freedom in the world.
"When I was a younger man I would have told you how I would travel to the very edges of the earth. That I would brave icy winds so cold they could freeze flesh upon contact just so I could see where the night sky turns green and purple in glorious ribbons. That I would sail the high sea to far lands filled with vibrant colors and cultures and foods. That I would venture south learning the tongues of all the Adelan territories or further still into Essyrn where I might stop and rest before seeing for myself where the sand has turned completely to glass by some ungodly force of nature.
"Now though..." he trailed off quietly and sighed a very weighted sigh. "I think I too have become dull with age. The first thing I likely would do though is to visit the village where my first nanny is buried so that I may thank her for what she'd done for me in raising and caring for me. I owe a lot of not everything I am today to her. After that hmm...perhaps see the sea as more than just a faint glimmering strip from my balcony. Or venture to the next town over that Aneisha is so in love with. I've honestly never been beyond the limits of our small city.
"I had everything mapped out to try once. But, younger men are filled with impossible dreams. It wasn't meant to be."
He made note of every dream Theo said aloud. The first — the grand aspiration of his younger self — was what he'd expected. This was the fantasy of a man who'd never known hardship and had never experienced that bone weariness one got from sleeping on the rocky ground night after night. Who'd never sailed and realized five hours into a two week voyage that he was the type to get dreadfully seasick. For whom it had never occurred that some people in this world would sooner run you through with a sword than freely exchange their culture with yours.
Still. Fletcher would take him, if he asked. The man deserved to learn it all for himself after being shut away in an oversized closet for his entire life. Well, maybe not the sword thing. They'd have to avoid that. The later dreams, though: these Fletch understood. And they were so painfully close to Theo's reach that one could taste them on the air.
"Mm," he grunted. "Wouldn't say impossible. Not when you've got half a lifetime to do it." He wouldn't give the man any false hopes by promising the world to him. Theo would never accept that sort of indulgence if it meant putting the staff out of a job, anyways. Still, Fletch would add these dreams to the many pieces on the board, and he'd sit and think about them...when he'd sobered up, that was.
He slid his half-emptied glass towards Theo. "Cut me off, or we're never getting home at this rate," he chuckled, smiling like a cat in the sun.
Fletcher could not have been more right. If such travel and dreams were not impossible then they certainly were highly improbable and they both knew it. Theo refused to respond but took the welcome distraction of needing to cut the other man off. He used one hand to playfully chop down on Fletcher's extended hand before plucking the drink from his grasp and finishing it for him without so much as pouring it into his own glass.
"We can take the rest of the bottle home," he commented lightly. "What do yo--fuck!" Out of the corner of his eye Theodore caught sight of a familiar face and pressed him further back in his seat, while doing his best to make sure his hood was pulled far enough up as to hide his face. "Orz is here," he hissed through his teeth. "And he's coming to join you."
No sooner had the words left his mouth before there was a very loud cry of 'Jacky-boy!' and the clearly inebriated man full of grins dragged a seat over and promptly plopped himself down at the table. "Fancy seeing you here mate! I thought you didn't have off tonight. Switched it up eh? Mind if I?" Orz didn't even wait for an answer as he dragged the bottle of whiskey and Fletcher's glass away from Theo's side and poured himself a more than generous pair of shots. "Aah that shit burn good. So what brings you out here tonight? Got yourself a hot date?"
Orz looked Theodore up and down, able to make out nothing more than a tall, slim frame, burrowed with in a dark cloak. The wineglass beside the man didn't escape him though and he shot a sly grin Fletcher's way along with a failed wink. "Got yourself an elfmaid date, ey? Never took you for the type to like them super pretty girls. Does she make you read her poetry too then?"
The second Theo said it, fear struck him. Of anyone they could have run into, why did it have to be Orz? He could count on anyone else for discretion. With Orz, though, by morning, the whole staff would know that Fletch had left the house. And if the staff knew, the guards might. And if the guards knew, and they put two and two together...he was fucked. He had to get them out of this, and fast.
Fletcher sat up straight. His good eye went wide before settling into a quiet fury. His nostril twitched like he'd smelled dogshit. "I'll handle it," he muttered to Theo. Ever-so-casually, he swept the teddy bear onto the bench, then turned to face the man he'd never forgiven for that fuck-awful mouth of his. He smiled the kind of hard smile that threatened murder and raised his voice to match the din. "Orz, mate. Have a seat. Yeah, couldn't take sitting there another second. Had to get out. You know how it is. Help yourself," he added in a tone that was very much a warning for the man not to help himself.
"Nah, nah. You know I don't play that game," he snorted. "Poetry? Mate, have you met me? No, this is just an old acquaintance from my wandering days. Happened to run into him. Can't speak Trade to save his life, though, can you, Zed?" At this, Fletcher pointedly nudged Theo under the table, urging him to keep his mouth shut. He grinned his murder grin at Orz again, gears still turning as he desperately sought a way out. What they needed was a way to make the man forget. And if not forget, then discredit him to such a degree that no one on the staff would believe him tomorrow.
He glanced between a very tipsy Orz and the half-full bottle. His grin widened. "Here," he said as he topped off both glasses. "I'm such a lightweight, mate, it's embarrassing. Why don't you have the rest?"
Theo rolled his eyes under the hood. Elfmaid? Really?! And then there was Fletcher being a charming son-of-a-bitch while glaring fire and brimstone. It was a miracle Orz was even able to sit there so completely unbothered for surely if Fletcher had had even an ounce of magic within his veins the other man would be no more.
All of this made his heart race and his blood boil. What was he to do now? He made to turn his head to Fletcher and tilt it some at his 'name,' as if he could hear it and only understand that much. They were going to get caught. Orz had zero discretion. Theo didn't want his night to end like this. He was finally getting Fletcher comfortable around him and now the man was going to get himself fired and a far worse gatekeeper would take his place. Still, he kept his mouth shut as instructed and focused instead on trying to breathe as slow and even as possible.
"Lightweight ey? Been spending too much time wiping pansy-ass noble asses have you? We need to get you out more often. Here have some more," he offered pushing the glass to Fletcher while holding his own out to clink. "Cheers mate! Here's to easy employment and easier clients. Amirte?"
Fletcher snorted dismissively. "Right. Cheers to that." He accepted the glass that he'd filled for Orz and clinked it sloppily against the other, causing whiskey to splash out onto the table. He took the smallest sip and set it down. "Speaking of wiping asses. Tomorrow's brat day. All the little noble terrors on piano. If I have to listen to a full afternoon of it with a hangover...well. Just kill me. Fact that Theo can't hear it is a fucking mercy, honestly." He slid the glass back to Orz. "So really, it's all yours."
"Knowing him, he'd probably try to defend them. Such a fucking little kiss ass. Acts like he's better than us when he's barely a step above and is bending and scraping to lick their boots as much as we are. Pompous piece of shit. At least his family pays well."
Orz's words stung Theo far more than Fletcher's. At least he knew the man next to him was putting on a show. The man across however was not. Yet, still Orz carried on like he had the whole night to chat with them, as if he wasn't interrupting a private conversation. And still he ragged on Theo and the rest of the Archer family. All of this the nobleman took in with the same patient endurance he did every other time someone else spoke for or about him as if he was not right in front of them.
It wasn't until Orz started laying into the other staff that Theodore suddenly leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table, his gaze honed in on every vile word the man dropped.
"...don't get me wrong, she's a sweet girl--dumb, but sweet. I wouldn't be surprised if we'll be needing a new scullery maid by years end. Girl gonna find herself suddenly rushing to the altar before her belly starts showing. Girls like her are all the same. And then don't even get me started on Dewey. That boy is as weird as they come. Carrying on and talking to animals like that? Who does that? Pathetic. That place is going to the dogs, lemme tell you. You and me Jacky we just gotta keep our heads down long enough to drag in the shiny and we'll make bank in no time. I'm sitting mighty pretty already on what I've managed to turn around. You shou--"
Theodore could not take one more second of it. One minute Orz was talking and the next, the table was being flipped over on him as Theo towered over the man and mess. The pub went quiet some as people took notice so the nobleman did the only thing he could think of: he turned and threw a punch at Fletcher thereby commencing the age old sacred rite of passage: the honest bar brawl.
As soon as he'd said it, he knew it was a mistake. Orz sober was bad enough. Orz drunk was an incessant stream of so many new and different ways to say, "punch me." Fletcher's hand began to tighten into a fist. His shoulders and arms tensed. At the mention of Aneisha, he almost lost it. One single thread held him back from flying into a rage and tackling that scum-sucking twat: the knowledge that if he did, he'd be sent packing. But that thread was about to snap.
And then Theo upended the table, and all hell broke loose. "Oi!" Fletch cried as the man threw a punch — at him, no less. He glowered back, ready to fight anyone and anything for how wound up he'd gotten. In the time it took him to put together what Theo had done, chaos erupted. Orz had fallen backwards into another party's table and grabbed someone's wife on the way down, and her furious husband had stumbled into a brute of a man, and a barmaid had tripped and thrown stew at another woman, and now it was war.
This was his element. If Theo wasn't there, and his job wasn't at stake, he'd have jumped gladly into the fray and pummeled Orz into the floor. He could have laughed at it all but for how very dangerous it was — both for their alibi, and to Theo's safety. Orz would now certainly remember the night, and he'd be sure to tell everyone he could that it was Jacky Boy's friend who'd started the brawl. But it was too late to fix that, now. They had to get out while they could, or Theo might get seriously hurt.
He grabbed his friend's arm and tugged him out of the booth. "Come on," he mouthed, and pulled him along towards the back door, making damned sure to step on Orz's face and grind his heel in as they went. They ducked and wove through the pandemonium, plates and glasses flying through the air and shattering against the wall beside them. At last, they pushed out into the cold night and into an alley that smelled overwhelmingly of drunkard piss. Fletcher's stumbling momentum propelled him forward into the building opposite the pub. His shoulder hit brick and he rolled his back against the wall and ran a hand over his hair in utter astonishment.
"We're so fucked," he rasped. He began to laugh.
Theo's fist grazed Fletcher's jaw, making a more dull but present contact with the man's shoulder and sending shockwaves all the way up the nobleman's arm. Pure pandemonium surrounded them suddenly and all at once and although Theodore was incapable of hearing it, he could not help but stare at it all. It wasn't until Fletcher grabbed his arm, mouthing words at him and tugging him along that he finally began to move. He had only a second to reach back to grab the toy prize before he was in the throng of it all and dodging errant fists and flying furniture. His foot may or may not have collided's with Orz's ribs or crushed the man's family jewels on his way out the door. Theodore would certainly deny such allegations to the grave...with an internal smile of course.
Fresh, icy air assaulted his sense, clearing his head of some of the fog of drink right before the acrid scent of urine burned his nasal passages. Theo did not have long to consider it though as Fletcher stumbled into a wall, taking him with him. The nobleman crashed into his bodyguard's chest, a belly-laughing mess of his own. With his heart thrumming in his breast and adrenaline still coursing through his veins, Theodore looked down at the other man with a beaming smile.
Without thinking he cupped the other man's cheeks and suddenly planted an enthusiastic kiss on him. "That was awesome!" he crowed, pulling away and spinning in an excited circle, seeming to not at all have realized what he had just done. "Did you see his face?! You were like...and then he was like...and then I just...and he was all...oh that was FANTASTIC!" Theo was giddy and practically dancing in place as he reenacted it all. "Smug bastard got what he deserved! Been wanting to do that for years!"
The nobleman cut Fletcher's exasperated laughter short with the last thing he'd ever expected. He leaned there in stunned silence for a moment before touching his fingers to his lips and wondering if he'd imagined what had just happened. Theo was clearly high on the rush of a thing he'd probably never experienced in his life, let alone been the catalyst for. Still. He wondered if the man would have done it if he hadn't been aware of certain details of Fletcher's past.
"Theo," he said. "Theo. Hey." But Theo was too caught up in the moment to notice. Fletch pushed himself clumsily from the wall and stumbled forward. He just managed to catch the man by his shoulders. "Theo. Hey. Listen. I'm glad you liked it. Really, I am. He deserved all that and more. But we're now very, very fucked. If he gets back home, he's going to tell the staff he saw me. Staff will tell the guards. Guards will realize I lied to them and made a hole in the fence." He released the man and backed away, looking more and more worried by the minute. "I'll be on the curb by tomorrow afternoon. Don't you see it? 'S why I was trying to get him drunk. So he wouldn't remember."
Fletcher managed to still Theo enough to pay attention even if he was rocking on his feet some with excitement. As the seriousness of his words sank in though, the nobleman stilled and honed in to focus with wide and dilated eyes. For several moments the only sound between them was their breathing and the dull murmur of people going about their business on the main road.
But then, a slow toothy grin spread across the nobleman's face making the traditionally mild-mannered man look very much like the predator with his sights on his prey. "Spoiled brat pretty boy privilege," he spoke with deep confidence. "He wants to spit on my family name and talk big about how self-important he is? He can remember whose good graces keep him employed and living his so-called best life."
Theo lifted his chin looking so smug and pleased with himself even as he turned and tugged Fletcher along by his sleeve. "We should head home. I just need to make a detour first." He suddenly paused though in the mouth of the alley and turned to look at his bodyguard with a soft look. "You trust me right?"
Fletcher squinted. This was a side of Theo he'd never seen, and he wasn't certain whether it worried him...or whether he liked it. It was probably a bit of both. He himself was prone to thrill-seeking and the occasional episode of bloodlust. He couldn't fault the man there. Hell, it seemed they weren't so different, after all, if they both left a brawl exhilarated by the chaos. And yet...something about the way Theo looked at him now sent ice down his spine and touched on a memory he hadn't recalled in years.
It was the cloak. It was that bloody cloak. That was all. It was nothing. He blinked the thought away and released his friend. "Okay. Alright. That's...I won't pretend he doesn't deserve it. You don't need to be sticking your neck out like that over my mistake and my job. But...hey — "
Theo began to drag him gently towards the mouth of the alley. He finished his thought as he stumbled alongside him. "What happens if he gets there and tells the guard before we're back? Ey? ...What detour? Theo, we have to go." They stopped at the intersection, and for a moment it felt like Theo was the one staring into his soul. "'Course I trust you. Even when you're a fucking looney," he replied like it was obvious. "Five minutes, alright? But then we need to run."
Theo snorted, completely unbothered at being called looney. In that moment, Fletcher could have called him a whole slew of names and he still would be feeling like king of the world. Theo felt invincible! Nothing could stop him. The gods themselves were on his side, lending him luck and favor it felt like.
"I'll only need three. And remember," he said with that same predatory grin again, "my name is Orz. So when the time is right—and you'll know when, just keep loudly calling me it, declaring I'm drunk, and say I need to get back."
There was such a spring in Theodore's step as he surged ahead without any further explanation. He wound his way through people and stalls until he came closer to the seedier area he had been avoiding all night. With an abrupt turn, he suddenly slammed his hands down on a vendor's table among all his caged wares and leaned right into the man's face.
"I'm looking to buy a griffon egg. Ooo or an uloifulf. You got one of them? I want one of them. Nah make it three of those. I got the coin. Show me the goods," he rattled on belligerently in a slurred and accented voice. It wasn't great by any means but it definitely didn't sound like Theo.
"Coin first," the owner growled back seeming completely bored and unfazed by the display. He likely endured worse acquiring the poor animals.
"Product first!" The nobleman shouted slamming his fist on the table with a wobble before dissolving into giggles. A cacophony of animal noises sounded as the poor creatures in their far too small cages squawked, hissed, and screamed at the loud noises. Under the table though Theo was using one booted foot to unlatch several of the cages one by one, thereby releasing the unwilling contents inside. He worked as quickly as he could so as to not get noticed right away, even as he threw an epic tantrum above the table.
No amount of interference from Fletcher, the shopkeeper, or any other passerbys was going to deter him either. The more attempts made to stop him or drag him away only made him squirm and get louder.
"What the hell?!" Cried the keeper at the same time as a woman screamed over a very large python slid its way across the street. "Oy, you! Get your fucking friend out of here! What the hell is wrong with you? Where do you work? Sending a bill to your employer! Get your ass fired!"
The nobleman did something he'd always watched but never done himself. He swiped his hand across the front latches of every cage he could reach on the table setting loose as many creatures as he could manage with every slide of wood and metal through its simple securing method. Exotic, magical, and adorable all came busting out of their prisons as fast as they could. Some preyed on each other. Most fled as best as they could manage. A pair of birds started attacking people in retaliation. One single dumb toad stayed completely put, completely unimpressed.
"Theo," he hissed. Theo had taken off through the market again, and following him while tipsy was proving harder than it should have been. Fletch just managed to keep the man in sight as they pushed through the throngs. Tracking him felt almost like tracking the dealer had all those months ago — except that Theo ran towards something and not away from it.
The resemblance was still uncanny: the way the nobleman vibrated with adrenaline, pupils dilated and threatening to swallow up the rest of him. The way feverish urgency now colored his every movement. Theo's high wasn't dangerous the way Ven's would have been, but it was unnerving nonetheless. It threatened more chaos for the sake of the thrill, and while that sounded like an average Tuesday for Fletcher, right now, they couldn't afford it.
Theo stopped abruptly in front of some sort of exotic animal stall and began the strangest, most surreal performance Fletch had seen out of the man. "What in the fuck — " Fletcher caught up with him just in time to see his boot swiping latches open as he pounded on the table. "What in the absolute fuck?" Fletch whispered again. He strode up to Theo and grasped him by the shoulder, only to be shrugged away. "Are you mad? We don't have time for this!"
By now, all manner of creatures crawled and climbed over his feet in their attempt to flee. He was about to call Theo's name again when he remembered: he'd said to say Orz's name instead. Sure enough, the shopkeep began to threaten them, and it all came into focus. "Orz," he hissed. "Orz, mate, you've got to stop this. I'm so sorry, he's absolutely shitfaced," he explained to the man behind the counter. "Orz, come on. The Archers will kill you if they hear you've been causing trouble again. Fourth time this week, mate. Let's go."
Fletch reasserted a firm grasp on Theo's arm and finally pried him away to stumble down the street again. "Alright, you've had your fun. Let's go. Mental," he added beneath his breath. "Absolutely mental." Yet in spite of his anxiety, as he led them back towards the stable to retrieve miss Maple, he couldn't entirely keep his grin from re-emerging, nor from casting a few sideways glances at the man in equal parts incredulity and respect.
"Knowing him, he'd probably try to defend them!" Theo screeched Orz's earlier words as he was dragged away, with minimal actual fight in his squirming. "Such a fucking little kiss ass! Acts like he's better than us when he's barely a step above and is bending and scraping to lick their boots as much as we are! Pompous piece of shit!"
He continued to put up a show of struggling until they were around the corner and then immediately quieted and righted himself. Dusting off his clothes, he strode along with a deeply self-satisfied bounce in his step. The man was soon definitely giggling as they hurried back to the horse. While Fletcher mounted, Theodore carefully inspected the saddlebag and was pleased to find his earlier purchase exactly where he had asked it to be. He clambered up not long after, albeit a bit more clumsily now with alcohol and glee in his system.
"And that's how it's done," he boasted while wrapping his arms around Fletcher, their plushy charge smushed between them. Theo leaned in, burying his cheek against the back of Fletcher's shoulder as he closed his eyes and trusted the other man to get them home. "You'll have to endure some extra screeching from Mother tomorrow but the hard part is over with at least. The rest I'll finish in the morning. Did I do good? Proud of me?"
"Will I?" Fletch nudged Maple out into the alley and started them down the street towards home. Theo couldn't hear him, of course, but the thought of being screamed at by the Baroness drove him to wonder aloud. He supposed it was a mild punishment compared to being banished altogether. "Fine. Small price to pay," he muttered, frowning at Theo's arms as the man pulled him uncomfortably close.
Then Theo asked the strangest thing, like something some kid would ask their mother. He rolled his eye and tilted his head back in renewed exasperation. "The fuck kind of question is that?" he asked nobody at all. He sighed and grumbled and coaxed miss Maple into a trot. "You know what...sure, Theo. You did great."
Theo chuckled quietly to himself. "That's an awful lot of rumbling for a simple yes, so I'm just going to pretend that's what you're saying. I'm no spy or whatever you were, but pretty boys can be smart boys too." The nobleman paused and then shook his head and sat up better so he wasn't leaning so much into Fletcher. "No, I know. I 'heard' that one too. No need to start in on me."
He sighed softly as the scenery changed and became closer to home. "Oh! I forgot a gift for Dewey!" Theo pouted and made a soft disappointed sound while rubbing at his head. "Should have rescued one of those poor animals for him. Mmm so much to keep track of and do. Before we get back though I just want to say, thank you. Genuinely. I know this has been and continues to be a lot of risk on your end of things and...I hope you consider it worth it because it certainly meant the world to me. So, thank you and I promise I'll make sure you won't lose your job and it'll work out. I'm good for my word on this one."
The nobleman took one last steadying breath and gave Fletcher a friendly pat on the shoulder before sliding off Miss Maple and following his bodyguard's direction to sneak their way back into the house. Blessedly, for all the struggle they had had getting out and in town, crawling back in and to bed was perfectly by the book. Theo offered an exhausted, wordless wave as he passed through Fletcher's room and back into his own. He took good care to hide his used clothes--he'd see to their return later, and took a quick yet thorough bath. His souvenirs of adventuring were equally all tucked under the bed and it was starting to glow with the dawn by the time his exhausted and aching body crawled into bed.
No sooner had he started to really stretch out and melt into the bed as he started to doze than the pounding and thundering of several footsteps hitting every creaky board on their down his hall. Even his bed shook from it all and when he sat up he could see the door between his room and Fletcher's shake in the frame from how his mother must have been pounding on the bodyguard's door. Theodore jumped to his feet, grabbing his robe to toss on as he flung his bedroom door open to 'find out' what was going on.
"Mother? What's wrong?"
Baroness Archer was mid-nonsensical screech when she rounded on her son. "This cretin abandoned you and your protection to go drinking and gallivanting with probably countless whores. And and AND when he was confronted by your driver, he attacked and beat him!The man whatever his name is looks," the woman grimaced making a thoroughly disgusted face as she shook her head. "I want him out and I want him out now!!!"
Theodore feigned confusion and moved forward waving his hands to get his mother's attention and placed a hand on her back to offer comfort. "Orz was attacked? Mr. Daw is this true? Mother I sent Mr. Daw to the night market for me to collect a suitable pet for Lady Obower. I had hoped to gift it to her as an apology for my sudden illness when she was here. She was...quite spirited when she was here and I feared that I hurt her feelings. I...well you see Mother," he continued bashfully looking down and fidgeting as if embarrassed, "I was hoping to attend the debutante ball...as her escort."
"OH TEDDY BEAR!!!" the woman screeched, suddenly clinging to her son and squeezing him tightly. "Oh dearest we have so much to plan! So much to do! We have to--"
"Wait, wait. Mother please. We still have to understand what happened with Mr. Daw and Orz. Mr. Daw? The floor is yours."
After all that had happened, it was a miracle that they made it back in their own rooms without incident. Fletcher shrugged his coat off and paced, rubbing his hands to warm them after the frigid ride home. His heart beat in his throat. His stomach turned. It was probably the whiskey, honestly. Or maybe it was just that lingering sense of dread that Orz was about to drop the other shoe.
Sure enough, before he'd even washed up and gotten into bed, a violent knock shook the door, the wall, and everything from there to the bed. "Mr. Daw! Mr. Daw, come out here at once!"
Fletcher stopped in his tracks and made a rude face and an even ruder gesture. He recalled what Theo had told him: that somehow, he wouldn't lose his job. That the nobleman would cover this up. Well, he hoped Theo was awake still, because he was time to put his money where his mouth was. Fletch took a breath, let his expression fall neutral, prepared himself for the harpy who'd graced his doorstep, and opened the door. "Your ladyship, is something — "
"Now you listen, Mr. Daw. I want you out before dawn. Out. OUT."
He winced as whiskey and exhaustion and that broken glass voice collided. Alright. So Orz had dropped that shoe already. He drew breath to interject some expert bullshit, only for Theo to open his own door and divert mother dearest — by damning himself to the ball. As the Baroness turned to embrace her son, Fletcher mouthed a relieved, "thanks". He cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back.
"Erm, yes. I'm sorry for the confusion, ma'am. What Theo says is true. He's quite taken with the young Lady Obower, you see, and he wanted to right this as soon as he could. Only, I'm afraid I didn't return with a gift for her. When I got to the stand, Orz was there already — harassing that poor shopkeep, drunk off his...head. He let all the animals loose right before my eyes, ma'am. Said some horrible things about your honorable family, too. About master Theo. It was slander, quite frankly. I tried to drag him away, but he was awfully drunk. The shopkeep can corroborate, ma'am, I'm certain."
"About me?" Theo asked looking pained and sad. "Mother this sounds awful. Perhaps we should speak to Father? I—"
"Teddy there's someone at the door," the Baroness interrupted shoving a hand in her son's face as she thundered off to go see from the top of the stairs.
Behind her back, Theo rolled his eyes but gave Fletcher a small nod as he beckoned him to join and see. Kifes opened the door to a familiar face who demanded to speak to the lord of the house. The Baroness of course interrupted him as she hurried down the steps berating him for calling at such an early hour of the morning while Theo simply leaned on the bannister to watch.
"Forgive me, Baroness Archer but it seems one of your staff decided to make a nuisance of himself. A man named Orz not only released all of my merchandise but also was dragged off by I assume another of your staff all without payment. I demand compensation at once!"
"It was not us that damaged your wares! It is hardly any business of ours what conflicts you have with the common folk," the woman dismissed.
"Could you identify the man if you saw him?" Theodore chimed in.
"No my lord," the man replied. "He wore a dark cloak. But his friend I might. The man beside you looks a touch like him. Missin an eye ain't he? Pissy looking fellow?"
Theodore barely kept from snickering. "One could say that I suppose."
"What the devil is going on here?!" A new voice joined the fray. The Baron having been woken by the commotion and still in his bedclothes finally exited from the other wing of the house.
"Oh dearest," his wife began, "Orz—"
"Who?"
"Our driver dearest. He got himself drunk it seems and caused a ruckus in the streets. This man here is demanding compensation and your son's bodyguard abandoned him but was miraculously able to stop this Orz character from causing more trouble."
The Baron looked from one individual to the next before releasing a long aggravated sigh. "Kifes show the gentleman to my office. We'll see about settling some of your debts sir with Orz's severance payment. Then see to it that Orz is escorted off the premise immediately. Theodore you will have to have the maids send word to Viscount Shothflie that you'll have need to borrow their carriage until we have a new driver."
"Oh but Father—"
"Theodore. No," the man interrupted his son sternly. "Now then is that everything? Oh yes," he turned on the stairs suddenly to look at Fletcher. "As for you Mr. Daw expect a reduction in this month's pay due to your negligence in monitoring our son this evening. Consider this a warning. I will not be so lenient next time. Am I clear?"
"Yes, sir. Perfectly."
All at once, the consequences of their little adventure had caught up with them. As Fletcher watched the Baron disappear back up the stairs, he fell deadly quiet and deep into thought, only breaking his silence to wish Theo and the Baroness a very formal 'good day.' Then he started up the stairs himself, shut his door behind him, locked it, and resumed his pacing.
He was exhausted. His whole body felt like aching lead, and his head had begun to pound something fierce. He glanced blearily at his bed, but knew full well that he couldn't allow himself to sleep for fear that he'd miss his day shift. He'd have to put on a show of dogging Theo everywhere for the next week until the Archers got off his back. Yet he also had to find time to sit and to think — to lay every card on the table and get a better grasp of it all. Because the stakes were so much higher, now. And he'd be damned before he lost to the likes of them.
Grumbling and muttering to himself, Fletcher gathered a fresh set of clothes and headed off to wash up. Soap and water didn't erase the redness from his eye, or the dark circle beneath it, but he did feel a bit less like he'd crawled from a gutter and a bit more like himself. After that was done, he hobbled to the kitchen and set about making himself as much coffee as he could humanly consume in one sitting. "Morning, Kenna. Hey, Neish," he rasped as he stepped down into the enticing scent of fresh-baked bread and frying bacon. "Don't mind me. I'll be out of your business in a mo'."
Theo looked after Fletcher in concern but remained to speak with his mother. He was able to beg of lessons for the day under the pretense that he was too shaken up by Orz's behavior and required rest from the shock. He was sent back to his room while the Baroness ordered his breakfast to be collected and brought up to him instead. For his part, the nobleman barely made it into bed before he was passed right out on the edge, having sat down for one minute and promptly slumped over onto the bottom of the bed.
While the nobles resettled themselves to handle their various affairs, Aneisha and Kenna had long since been up working to care for the house and staff. Kenna grunted and glared at Fletcher's entrance, waving her knife at him some having already received the news that she now needed to scramble and prepare the Young Master's meal separately. The scullery maid however instantly perked up at his arrival.
"Good morning, Smuggler Jack!" she beamed with far too much enthusiasm and energy for so early in the day. "Did you hear the horrible news this morning?" Aneisha's face screwed up in grief and concern. "Apparently Orz has been fired! I couldn't hear it all from down here but something about him being drunk and starting fights. And he's not even getting any of his pay for this month! Isn't that just awful? Do you think he's going to be ok? I feel like we should make a basket for him and visit. Just to be sure y'know? Give him a proper send off."
Fletcher winced and pulled in a hiss through his teeth. "Morning. Little quieter, please, love. I've...er...got a wicked headache." He kept his back to the two of them as he did his usual clumsy job of making his coffee, sparing Aneisha the dubious look he made when the mentioned Orz. He turned to face her while it brewed. He wondered if it was worth keeping her from visiting the man. Would it backfire if he did? Orz would certainly take every opportunity to exact revenge, and Fletch was certain that he wasn't above planting doubts in Neish's ear. "Erm...yeah, I heard about that. Look. Neish...I'm sure he'd love a basket. Just be careful around him, alright? Don't go by yourself. Would you do that for me, at least?"
She gave him an odd look but more quietly continued, "do you know something more? Or are you just worried he'll lash out since we still have jobs here and he doesn't? You could come if you wanted, I don't mind!--Oh sorry, quieter, quieter right."
Aneisha hurried about filling large wooden trays with plates and plates of food while Kenna worked to get plates together for the Baron and Baroness. "Why don't you make yourself useful lad and help her carry those on up to the Young Master? The Baroness is beside herself with worry and ordered extra food to combat his shock," the cook grumbled rolling her eyes at it all. Although as Fletcher came closer she did place a hand on his arm and in a low voice Aneisha couldn't hear queried, "is he really alright and she's just off her rocker again? Should I be making him some soup and toast instead?"
Fletch considered Neish's question carefully. The last thing he wanted was to have to lie to her. But he and Theo hadn't gotten their story straight on how to clear this up with the staff, and that had to happen before he knew what to tell his young friend. "Little of both," he replied. "He's just said some things, and..." He trailed off, squinting. What a mess they'd landed themselves in. "We can chat later, alright, love? When I'm not...when I don't have a headache. Here. Let me finish making this and I'll help you. Though, why that woman thinks stuffing her son full of food until he's ill is a good idea..."
He waited until Aneisha was out the door and out of earshot before responding to Kenna. "He's fine. Promise. You know how she is about...well. Everything." He rolled his eye and snorted derisively, then did a hasty job of balancing his coffee and the two remaining platters and hurried after the scullery maid.
Kenna nodded giving his arm a friendly squeeze. "She thinks she knows best as any mother does I suppose. Run along now before Aneisha decides to break down his door in her excitement." The cook shook her head with a roll of her own eyes yet even as Fletcher went around the corner a faint smile tugged at her lips before she was back to grumbling and rushing to get breakfast out for the nobles and ready for the rest of the staff.
Sure enough as Fletcher made it up the stairs, the scullery maid was in the process of holding two trays one stacked atop the other in her hands, while also attempting to balance on one foot and use the other to kick the door handle into opening. She let off a triumphant cry of success before butt-bumping it fully open and marching right into Theo's room.
"Good morning, sleepyhead~!" Aneisha brightly greeted, setting the trays down on the dresser. Realizing Theo was asleep though, she came over and with surprising gentleness given her earlier chaotic nature, rubbed the nobleman's arm and shoulder. He still startled awake but upon seeing her, signed a concerned 'what wrong?'
"Nothing, nothing. Your breakfast is here though. The Baroness went overboard and there's four trays this morning!"
The man groaned and sat up, glancing at the pair of them and then door. The dark bruises under his eyes were even more pronounced than usual but that same light from the night before still remained. "...kick the door shut and we can have a picnic the three of us? You know I'm never going to eat all this."
Aneisha squealed and rushed to do so, locking the door, yanking a throw blanket down onto the floor, and helping to set up the trays where they could eat. Theo rubbed tiredly at his eyes. "Aneisha you do need to be more cautious about entering a grown man's room though. I could have been undressed. It's inappropriate."
"Pfft, not anything I haven't seen before," she chirped with a smirk even as the nobleman stared at her in slack-jawed shock.
Fletcher groaned and winced yet again. "Neish, please," he muttered. "Keep it down." He set the platters down before hobbling away to settle into a chair with his coffee. He hunched over the cup, clutching it like it was his only hope left in this world, and decidedly didn't engage in whatever this tea party thing was that the other two had worked up. Instead, he found a spot of wall as far away from the dawn sunlight as possible and fixed his eye on it in a squint. Until Theo admonished the girl for barging in, he only moved to sip his coffee.
He wheezed out a laugh and looked over at the two, a crooked smile warming his haggard face. "You go around flashing everyone then, sir? Not the best habit, but I'm not one to judge."
Theo turned as red as the tomatoes on his plate as he looked to Fletcher in embarrassed betrayal. "I have not exposed myself to Aneisha. That was an accident," he hissed ripping a pillow off a nearby chair and frisbeeing it towards Fletcher, unfortunately scoring a hit straight to the heavenly coffee cup. "Aneisha can you please close the balcony curtains and then offer Mr. Daw some toast? It's already been quite a morning," he sighed rubbing his own head.
She was quick to obey, hiding snickers behind her hand before beginning another line of chattering. Theo could see her mouth still moving as she turned out of his sight but was glad for the silence. His eyes felt itchy and like they were dancing side to side. With her back to him, the nobleman mouthed an apology to Fletcher with a look of concern.
There was coffee on his face. Coffee down his front. Coffee soaking into his trousers. Fletcher sat frozen, equal parts stunned and dismayed at his now almost empty cup. He wiped the stuff from his jaw with a bare hand and set the cup aside so he could stand. The look he shot Theo was a murderous one. "Respectfully go and fuck yourself, sir," he growled, ignoring whatever it was that Aneisha was blathering about. Without another word, he cracked open Theo's door, listened, and, when he was satisfied that there was no one present, he slipped through and into his own room. A few minutes later, changed and cleaned up, he returned the same way, shut the door, made a beeline for Theo's coffee, and stole it away with him to a new chair that wasn't soaked.
"Don't do it again," he warned.
The nobleman shrank back at the look in his bodyguard's eye even as he called out a soft, scared 'sorry.' By the time the Fletcher returned, Aneisha was back to sitting on the floor with Theo and going to town on her plates of food. Theo for his part was nursing a dry piece of toast, having shoved the eggs as far away from him as possible. He nearly opened his mouth to protest but wisely bit his tongue as his coffee was whisked away and Fletcher reclined into a better chair.
'If only I could have aimed like that last night, maybe we would have won a better prize,' he thought grimly, holding the teacup up to one eye and using the heat to try and suck the pain away.
"Did you hear about Orz, Teddy?"
"Hmm?"
"The Baron fired him. He--what?" she paused abruptly as she caught sight of Theodore holding out his pinky to her. Aneisha hesitated until he nodded before linking her pinky with his and giving it a shake. "Jack too?"
Theo nodded again and she popped to her feet holding her pinky finger out to Fletcher. "Pinky promise not to tell," she whispered, trying to remember to not be too noisy for his aching head.
Fletch glanced from Neish to Theo. It was true that they should nip this in the bud before it got too far out of hand. He knew that. For some reason, he hadn't expected to be the one to do it. He took a sip of coffee to push the exhaustion back again. Then, hesitantly, he reached out with his own pinky and wound it around hers.
"Right...Neish. Sit down. I think I'm the one who's got to tell you, anyways. My fault any of this happened." He took another sip, frowned, shrugged, and opted instead to chug the entire cup. He set it aside and met Aneisha's eyes. "Alright. Ughhh. Sorry...haven't slept." He rubbed his brow and tried to decide where to begin. "Erm...d'you...remember telling me you wanted to take Theo with you to the night market? This would have been months back. Well...I...mayyy have broken him out for it last night. And...we may have run into Orz. At a pub. A pub that I dragged Theo to. And don't worry: Theo was disguised. Nobody knew it was him, but..."
He groaned and ran his hands over his face and through his hair, messing it up and making it stand every which way. He didn't care. He'd fix it later. "So stupid," he murmured before continuing on. "Neish...you know I've got a mouth on me. So believe me when I say this. Orz said things to me that I've half a mind never to repeat to anyone. I don't trust him, love. Not around you, with the way he talks about women when it's just me and him. And Theo got to a point where he couldn't stand to listen to it. And he...well...flipped a table over on the bastard."
He paused there and looked over at Theo. "What have I missed? I've missed something."
Aneisha pulled the desk chair closer to sit, giving Fletcher her undivided attention. She touched his arm in concern, looking at him with deep worry until the pieces all came together. "YOU--you went on an adventure without me?" the young woman hissed with a fierce scowl. "And you had a fight too? I thought we were pirates together." Aneisha shook her head while crossing her arms and slumping in the chair to sulk. "Well," she hissed glaring at Theo, "go on."
"Yes, we went without you. Yes, we drank without you. Yes, Orz said some incredibly inappropriate and untrue things. And yes, I lost my temper, flipped a table, punched Mr. Daw, and started a brawl which no we did not get to stay and enjoy--I mean participate in.
"Because of my loss of temper, Jack was unable to get him drunk enough to forget about seeing us so I pretended to be Orz and yes I was the one that released nearly the entirety of a merchant's living wares while making a huge scene."
"Took you long enough to fire him. Teddy, he's said the worst things about you to anyone that would listen. I've tried to defend you but..." She grimaced and looked to Fletcher, "you heard it too right? Said Teddy was a creep and a...well it was very impolite and even as a pirate captain I don't feel comfortable saying it.
"You really went without me though?" Aneisha looked at both men with a mixture of hurt and displeasure. "You couldn't trust me?"
"Yeah. No. I've heard it. First time I told him off about it, I thought it would be the last, but..." Fletcher groaned. "Neish. You aren't hearing this the way we need you to. Be smart about this. Step back a moment and look at it all, will you? We're telling it to you hours after it happened — of course we bloody trust you, love. But listen to me. I almost just lost my job over this. I'm on thin ice with the Baron now, and on top of it I've lost pay for a month. And that was just the two of us. The more people, the more chances of getting caught. The more things can go wrong. You and I can go into town anytime and stir up trouble. For Theo, it had to be this way. Alright?"
He grumbled and slid down into his chair like that speech had taken his very last ounce of strength. "Is there any more coffee? I'm so bloody tired."
"Yeah but Jack--" Aneisha scowled and sighed. He was right and she knew it. "I'm sorry. I get it, you're right. But, you DO still have your job right? And Teddy will fix things over for you. He always fixes things for us. That's why we all stay." She smiled softly. "He always makes sure we're okay. But, we're okay? You're not mad at me for being so....childish still?"
Fletch shot Theo a cryptic glance. By his estimation, he was fired the next time he tried anything. He couldn't see how the man would patch this up any more than he had. The Baron had been quick to shut down anything his son had tried to say. He clearly wasn't the least bit receptive to Theo. So what more could be done?
Nothing. This was all on Fletch. He'd fucked it up. He'd put it back together again.
"Yeah, Neish. Don't worry about it. We're okay." He reached out and pinched her gently on the shoulder, and smiled the half-hearted smile of a man who was very, very hungover. "You and I, we'll go start our own bar brawl. Alright? Just pick a day. Preferably one when I've slept."
She beamed at him and moved in to give him a tight hug. Keeping her voice down she added, "you got it, Jack," before pulling away. "Now then, I'll be getting you a big pot of coffeee but don't think that means you're entirely off the hook. You owe me a basket of raspberries. A big one. Now I'll be right back. Try not to cause more trouble without me yeah?"
Aneisha stuck out her tongue at them while gathering up one of the trays filled with empty dishes so she could exit the room. The moment the door closed though Theo heavily slumped back against the bed. He allowed the silence to hang between them a bit, afraid that if he spoke he'd ruin everything again. Aneisha was right. He'd fix this. He had to. Fletcher deserved that after all he'd already done for Theodore.
"I am so very sorry," he finally whispered, taking care to not slur or whistle-hiss his words. "You should eat something if you can stomach it thought. Mm, and lessons are cancelled. No pounding keys for you to endure today at least."
"More raspberries than you've seen in your damned life," Fletch agreed. He kept his smile up until she'd closed the door behind her. Then it fell, and he slouched even further. "What a fuck-awful mess," he murmured. He stared at the door as Theo spoke, and for a moment after. Then he rolled his head to face the man.
"You're doing it again," he grunted. "Being small. This was entirely on me, Theo. I sprung you out. I was too fucking cocky about it, and I got us into trouble. If I'd thought of how Aya would react when she saw you in Ven's cloak, and if I'd had the sense to keep us away from the sort of place Orz frequents...it's on me. Don't you go blaming yourself over it. I swear you get off to that."
"It's on both of us. I made things worse by equally getting cocky, by losing my temper, by letting my ego declare I could just fix everything for you and telling you to just trust me. Father will settle. It WILL be alright. Just, I feel guilty. You put your neck way out for me and still got nicked by the blade."
He sighed and scrubbed at his face. "At least he's gone. I could deal with the rest but...not the staff. Not Aneisha. Not..."
Theo shook his head, abandoning finishing that sentence in favor of rolling his eyes. It was an ill-fated move on his part as it made him dizzier than before but not enough so as to squash his spirit.
"Yes, clearly I must with how you just hear me carrying on all hours of the night to it. Don't know how you ever get any sleep with your room right next to mine."
"Yeah. It will be." He'd meant it to sound confident, but...he had so many doubts. This situation had gone from straightforward to a tightrope walk in a matter of one night. He wasn't sure he wanted to tell Theo why, either. The man would probably feel even more guilty if he knew what Fletch had just resigned himself to. He'd try to talk him out of it. Push came to shove, he probably wasn't above lying to his parents in order to pry his unwilling bodyguard from this cage by force.
Fletcher laughed a bit at Theo's joke, but his heart wasn't in it right then. "Theo...I think I need to lay low for a while. Play their games. Keep everything looking above board, you know. And I think...we need to be a bit more careful. You and I, we can't look too chummy. If they think I have a soft spot for you...I think that might be the beginning of the end."
His countenance had fallen further, and now, in the dimness, he seemed both aged and melancholy. Yet that determined fire still burned behind his eye, and his expression hardened as he spoke again. "This is a prison," he murmured. "And they're the wardens. It's time for both of us to think like it."
Theo nodded back without an ounce of disappointment on his face. "Aye, I know. It was always going to be the outcome though. And that is not to say that I am not grateful. I truly am. Last night was...it really was as corny as it sounds, perfect. But, I've lived here my whole life like this. You don't have to feel guilty about it. And if it becomes too much for you, I completely understand. I will write all the reference letters you require. I will make whatever excuses necessary. Just because I choose this, doesn't mean everyone else has to too. In fact I rather they didn't...because you're my friend and I want the best for you. And let's be honest here, this isn't it.
"So...we'll keep our distance. You'll increase rotations and keep them closer to me. I will read my books and play my music and step on the toes of too many ladies. Soon it'll be winter so there won't be much to do anyway."
He nibbled on some toast while taking in Fletcher's weariness. "There are patterns and rhythms here you haven't yet learned. But, I promise you this will be okay. You're not going to lose your job for all my father's barking. And I am deeply sorry you had to endure the threat of it. That is entirely my fault. He has to appease Mother the same as the rest of us though. I mean Orz has been here for years insulting the whole of us and yet was allowed to continue. I can't be the only one of my family who caught him mouthing off; not with how wide he opens his mouth, that man has to be practically yelling when he speaks.
"Sleep will help. It really will and I think you'll feel a bit more prepared for what's to come. But, it's not as dire as you fear. I'll likely get told off this evening for giving you conflicting orders and taking advantage of your position in the household before some perceived treat is taken from me. Mother will be too distracted by my Lady Obower announcement to care about anything beyond it and the fact we now require a new driver. You will continue to treat Aneisha like the little sister she is while I keep the staff at polite but distant arm's length, and the sun will continue his perpetual dance with the moon same as they always have. By spring it will all be forgotten."
Fletch listened intently to all of it. He grunted dismissively at every apology, going so far as to shake his head and roll his eye ever so slightly. At Theo's mention of him quitting the job, though, he released a deep and weary sigh and withdrew into himself. He'd said it last night: he wasn't up and leaving. He knew Theo didn't grasp the whole of it, but he didn't want to have to say it again.
Much as he reveled in what felt like a pile of riches here in this manor, he hadn't been stuck in one place quite like this since he was a boy. He'd been on the move for most of his life. Maybe not free, exactly — there was always some tether holding him back, by his own making or otherwise. But he'd been afforded the good fortune of travel, new sights, new people, even when running cargo back and forth across the sea. His warden then was his father and his father's expectations. No — not even his father. It had been his own debts that kept him there. His warden now, in spite of what he'd said to Theo, was himself — and whatever fuck-awful sense of duty Ven had imparted on him before giving up. There was no ship here for him to guide through the storm to distant lands. Just Theo.
He'd let the man keep saying it for now. Keep insisting that there was a graceful exit waiting for him beyond the manor's gates. That was fine. It was far better for Theo to believe it than to realize what he was doing. As for the matter at hand, Fletcher knew that he couldn't go it alone any longer. He'd blundered his way through it so far and nearly failed. He needed someone to show him how it was done.
"Theo," he said at last. "If there are patterns and rhythms I haven't learned, then I need you to teach me. Show me how to do this. I thought I had it, but — "
A knock at the door interrupted him mid-thought. He sat up with a sharp intake of breath like he'd been woken from a dead sleep. When he saw Aneisha's shoe wedge the door open, though, he relaxed. "There's my pirate queen. Oh, bless you, love, you've saved me."
The look that Theo gave him was intense as if he could see through his eye into Fletcher's very soul. He understood what his bodyguard was asking of him. He understood how hard it was to make that plea for help. So even as Aneisha whisked into the room he made sure to catch Fletcher's eye and give a deep acknowledging nod. Of course he would help. He would have without being asked but he would for sure now and without asking for anything in return.
"Oh queen is it now?" Aneisha chattered on with her tray being set down carefully beside Fletcher. She smacked his hand away from the coffee though and instead picked up a small shot glass. "Kenna made you willow bark tea for your head. So you can only have coffee after you've had some of this or I'll tell her it's been you cutting off all the brownie ends when she's not looking."
"Oi." Fletch shot her a wounded look and wrinkled his nose at the tea. "She's a sadist," he grumbled. "You're both sadists." He plucked the glass from her fingers and held it pinky out like she'd offered him pond scum and not medicine. He looked between it and the coffee pot. "You've earned that title. Cruel as the fucking sea, you are," he muttered, and upended the shot. It was just as bitter and vile as he remembered. Ven had never cut his medicines with honey, either — just straight down the hatch as-is, no complaints. Fletcher absently wondered if there was a single healer on this green earth who didn't revel in his patients' suffering. "Eugh," he shuddered as he handed her back the empty glass. "Right. Come on, then. Coffee. And then I think we've kept you long enough, love. No sense getting in trouble on my account."
Coffee in hand and Aneisha departed, Fletch returned his attention to Theo — and one small piece of this that he could control. Behind his singular eye swirled thoughts of Orz and Theo's long-lost man and the Baron. Of the shit that had just gotten stirred up, or was about to be...and how he couldn't possibly protect this gentle friend of his from it all. "Another thing," he said. "I'm going to start you up on some training. No arguments. You ought to know the basics, or I've not done my job. We'll begin tomorrow."
He scowled and looked at Fletcher with a deeply unimpressed expression. "Why? It's not like you're going to plow me into a pancake again. There's no actually threat to me here beyond boredom or gluttony."
His face paled some though as his thoughts drifted another way. "Unless...you think me not man enough because I haven't been toughened up and cry too easily."
Fletch snorted. "Sometimes, I wonder about you, you know. Can never tell if you're doing that on purpose." He sipped his coffee and rested a boot on one knee as he always did when he felt at ease. "No, don't start that again. It's nothing to do with you or being a man. If you had tits I'd be saying the same damned thing, Theo. No, it's everything to do with me. I've a responsibility to keep you safe. That starts with you knowing how to defend yourself."
"Doing what on purpose?" He asked with a furrowed brow as he gathered clothes to change into. The tension in his shoulders eased with the reassurance though. This was not some macho attempt at underhandedly forcing Theo to behave a certain way or be a certain way. After the hug incident, Theodore had feared that Fletcher would want him to hide his orientation better, to be better.
He flushed though as he recalled doing more than hugging the other man only a few short hours earlier. "I'm going to change," he suddenly rushed to say, slipping behind his screen with his clothes. "Y'know a bigger threat right now would be the fact I all but signed my life away to attending the debutante ball and I still can't dance. Think we can catch two birds with one branch?"
Theodore came back out, dressed rather casually for a tutoring day but given the fact he has no intention of doing anything more than lounging about, he had refrained from the extra layers. "I mean there is coordination and rhythm involved in fighting too isn't there?"
A few seconds later, Theo seemed to get it. Or at least, something had made him go pink again. Fletch allowed the man some privacy and dignity and kept his usual smirk at bay, opting instead to nurse his coffee. He waited for Theo to settle in again. "I think we do some very different dancing," he replied. "Yours is all stiff spine and twirling. Coordination, yeah, maybe. Dunno about rhythm, but..." He leaned forward, coffee still nestled between his hands. "It's more about knowing yourself. Moving with your weight, and with gravity and momentum. And then it's sizing up the other man, too. Looking for patterns. Watching how he walks. Seeing if he leaves openings."
Fletcher shrugged. "You do some of it already. You're closer to understanding this than you might think. I can't help you with the ball though, unless — " He snorted. He shook his head, leaned his forehead against his splayed fingers, and peered sheepishly out from between them. "Unless you want me to pull that Edwina girl away."
He plopped into the seat beside him and slowly raised a brow at him. "And do what exactly? Now's not the time to be disappearing bodies I'm afraid," he sighed softly. "Granted I'm sure you'd have no trouble whisking her away with how she was mooning for you when she was last here. I had half the mind to slip away and see when she'd notice if it didn't mean you standing over me in the middle of the night with a pillow of death.
"No," Theo sighed, "she's just a child and it's best I don't give you directions that can get you into more trouble than I already have. I will simply endure as I have always done."
The door opened suddenly without a knock or warning although Theo didn't notice until he felt footsteps upon his floor. He startled and turned in time to see his father come up behind his chair and give his shoulder a squeeze as another hired guard stood in the doorway.
"Mr. Daw good to see you taking such a personal interest in my son's safety after last night. Might I trouble you to join me in my study to discuss the future of things? I've taken the liberty of having Stephens come to monitor Theodore in the interim."
Fletcher's gut turned to ice as the Baron entered the room without so much as a perfunctory knock. It took every ounce of his will not to jolt in his seat. Even without, he might have just given them up by his casual body language alone. He gently set his coffee aside and began to gradually shift from the slouch of a hungover rogue into the upright state befitting a bodyguard. He was certain that it didn't go unnoticed. It still seemed better than remaining melted half-awake into the recesses of the chair.
But it wasn't Theo whom the man wanted to see. No. It was him. Fletcher had hoped that the worst of their incident had passed, and that cleaning up the mess would be a long and subtle affair. It seemed he was mistaken. He rose to his feet, taking great care to avoid so much as looking at Theo. "Yes, sir," he said, keeping his expression and his voice as aloof and neutral as he possibly could. "After you, sir."
It's a prison, he reminded himself as he turned his back on Theo and shut the door behind him. You're here for life. Act like it.
The light left Theo's eyes as he was forced to sit in stiff silence, unable to see what his father was saying and only able to catch from Fletcher's body language that it wasn't good. He nodded towards Stephens as the pair left and took to reading his book. Or at least he pretended to all while waiting anxiously to find out what was going on downstairs.
The Baron however seemed unbothered as he lead the bored bodyguard into his office and took a seat. "Shut the door behind you, Mr. Daw and have a seat."
Pascal busied himself with shifting papers about his desk and closing his ledger before leaning in with his elbows on the desk and his fingers laced under his chin.
"As I am sure you are aware Mr. Daw, my hardly requires protecting. At least not of the nature my wife would have everyone believe. If I am to be frank with you, what the Baroness desires we all strive to see made her reality. Personally, I couldn't care less about the driver. He was a wholly unpleasant man so it's no real loss there. You will however be charged with assisting in assessing future applicants for safety and temperament. I won't have one of his buddies taking the job and retaliating against my family as a result.
"As for your evening excursion. Please try to remember that you work for me and not Theodore. I know he was lying for you. He always was a dishonest sort. So, in order to allow you to have a night off when you decide to go do your whoring and brawling or whatever it is you folk do these days, I will be hiring more security which you will also be vetting. I want tighter rotations and Theodore in sight at all times. You are also to take an additional guard with you on his philanthropy attempts until I deem otherwise."
The older man stood and walked to his cabinet pulling down two glasses and a decanter. "Bourbon? Truly the greatest danger in this house to Theodore is himself as I'm sure you've already figured out. I'm willing to consider whatever additional precautions you wish to add to keep him in line."
That icy feeling refused to abate as Fletcher followed in lockstep. He'd written the Baron off as quiet and bookish and worn down by the Baroness — a harmless man, all in all. The subtle cues he'd seen in Theo's room had told him that he'd been very wrong. As he entered the study and closed the door, the back of his neck tingled in an old, familiar warning. By the time he understood what it meant, their conversation was long over.
At the Baron's instruction, he sat and clasped his hands in his lap. His back was straight. His eye was forward. He waited wordlessly for the man to clear his desk. When the lecture began, he maintained the appearance of polite attention. But he was no longer the rough, confident man he'd been when they'd last met in this study. That man had had very little to lose. He hadn't understood the nature of Theo's cage. Now he did. Now he was entangled in this. Now he behaved, and he hung on every single word. And with each one, that sense of dread and danger grew.
The assignment to find a new driver was a fair one. He had no qualms. At the Baron's casual slight against his son, Fletcher's mouth twitched, but he dug his nails into his palm and he held steady. At the mention of additional security, however, his lungs froze mid-breath. Either the Baron suspected Fletcher of lying, or he was bent on tightening Theo's shackles just to remind the man who was in control. The back of his neck prickled again. Why?
He resumed his breathing. "Yes, sir," he said. "Yes, thank you," he said to the offer of bourbon, and unclasped his hands to receive the glass. He hated bourbon on a good day. With a stomach still churning from whiskey and the willow bark bitter on his tongue, it could not have been further down on the list of things he wanted. He took a ginger sip and did his best not to make a face. He set it down on the desk. It was time to know for certain how much the Baron suspected.
"Sir," he said. "I'm not certain I follow. Before I make recommendations, I'd like to understand exactly what you need. You said that Theo doesn't need protecting. Why the extra security measures? And why now?"
"To keep him in line. My son is an escape artist, a liar, and a homosexual. The last you will do well to keep your mouth shut about. The Baroness is unaware and I aim to save her from the shame. The increased security is to remind him to behave and to adhere to our agreement. Doubling those watching him also ensures a higher likelihood that he won't be found in another compromising position. Is that clear enough for you, Mr. Daw?"
And there it was. The reason for all of it. The Archer family's reputation. The Baron had locked his own son up to rot for the sake of business and social standing. His answer dripped with disdain for Theo. With indifference for what effect any of this had on the man. It was a stroke of luck that Fletcher's look of horror could just as easily be misconstrued as disgust at Theo's supposed deviancy. Now that the Baron had laid it out plain, it was appalling. And Fletch had played right into it from the start — for money.
His mind spun, but he had to focus. "Crystal clear, sir," he rasped, leaning forward to retrieve his glass. He took another sip of that nasty stuff to buy a few more seconds. Double the guards. More shifts. Send a message. Keep the Baroness happy. Ah. There. He set the glass back down and clasped his hands again. "Forgive me, sir. I think doubling the guard may have unintended consequences. Even if your son is a, er..." He trailed off and cleared his throat. "Her Ladyship still seems intent on him marrying. I think it may send the wrong message to the Young Master's callers if you were to have such obvious security. Might I suggest starting with increased rotations? You'd have a more well-rested guard at all hours, and I'd think that would be enough to keep him in line."
The Baron eyed Fletcher contemplatively while slowly draining his drink. He refilled his own glass and sat back in his chair, his face revealing nothing of his thoughts.
"I see your point. Fine. How many additions will you be needing to loosen the strain on everyone With the shorter shifts? And do keep in mind they must be male. The Baroness won't allow for a female guard out of fear of ending up with a bastard child on the way. I will however still be requiring additional guards for going into town. He's made an escape attempt as recent as he morning you arrived and is certainly due for another if we are not careful."
"On that, we're agreed," Fletcher nodded. He'd have to concede somewhere, and it looked like this was the line. So. He and Theo could still train, and they still had some semblance of privacy in which to speak freely — at the cost of losing any chance at fifteen minutes of freedom after piano lessons. Fine. He'd play along with that for now. "I think three more should do it for the rotation, sir, and we can alternate on those days when two of us accompany him into town." He took a third sip to fill that vast silence that hung over the desk between them. He still felt keenly as though he were being watched by a predator.
"Thank you for bringing this to my attention, sir," he said. "Was there anything else that you'd like to discuss?"
"Don't go making a habit of getting my staff fired to cover for your own antics. In that it truly is your last warning. Otherwise you have done exemplary work here Mr. Daw and you needn't worry about losing this job. I have found after decades of marriage, the way to my wife's heart or more importantly her bedchamber is through taking charge." The Baron smirked and toasted his glass at Fletcher before downing the rest of the drink. "You're dismissed."
"Yes, sir," he said.
From that moment until he reached his room, everything was a blur. His ears rang so loud that he didn't hear his own footsteps. Or maybe they were quiet because, in that old habit come back to haunt him, he rolled his feet to avoid being heard. He held his posture stiff and formal, but his arms he kept tensed and ready at his sides, hands balled into fists. His chest was so tight that he hardly breathed, and when he did, he controlled it and kept it silent.
Before he knew it, he was at a door. Theo's door. He didn't want that. Not right now. He'd have to go back soon and play the game and pretend like he was the Baron's good little lackey. But not now. Not with what was about to come out of him. He moved instead towards his own door, slipped through it, shut it quietly, and bolted it. He checked the nanny door — also bolted. Then the window.
Then his fist met the wall. And again.
The pain snapped him more awake than he'd been since yesterday. He held back a groan as he cradled one throbbing, bleeding hand in the other. It was stupid of him. His knuckles had split, and they'd be bruised for weeks. Someone would surely ask. Theo would ask, if he hadn't felt the thud against the wall already. But it had to be done. He had to get it all under control again.
He took deep breath after deep breath until he'd calmed his nerves. He cleaned and wrapped his damaged hand. He checked himself in the mirror and found only vestiges now of that scared little boy who knew too well how to hide from his own father. It was enough.
Fletcher closed his door and opened Theo's. "You're relieved," he told Stephens. He sat carefully in that same chair again, took up his coffee, and resumed drinking it with one very slightly trembling hand.
The thumps had certainly gotten Theo's attention as well as Stephens who stood staring at the nanny door in wary concern. The man jumped when the main door opened instead and Fletcher came in. While he eyed the main bodyguard he could not help but hesitate with his dismissal. "Is there anything more you'll be needing, Young Master?" He asked, his eyes never leaving the bodyguard.
"Go ahead, Stephens. Mr. Daw is here to take over."
Stephens lingered a moment more, eyeing them both before making his exit and closing the door. Once he was gone, Theo quietly and slowly closed his book, got up from his chair, and turned it so that it sat directly beside rather than opposite Fletcher. With a clear view of the door he retook his seat and reopened his book to read.
The bandaged hand did not go unnoticed but nor did the stiffness of his posture and movements. Everything Fletcher did seemed calculated and measured rather than his usual fluidity. With their chairs close together Theo was able to rest his forearm against the other man's, offering silent comfort and strength. The pages of his book quietly turned with only the soft rustle of fingers upon paper disrupting the silence.
It was some time before Theodore finally spook and looked up to see Fletcher's answer. "Is it broken? Your hand?"
Fletch didn't jump at the touch, but he did release his hawk's focus on the floor to side-eye the man's arm. He'd be lying if he said it didn't steady him, but...over and over again, he thought of the Baron entering this room without knocking. Of how one of the only places where it was safe to let his guard down wasn't that safe at all. He was back in that old house. No — back on the ship, his four walls made of water, trapped in the cage with the lion. There was nowhere to run.
He drew breath, and even that sound was deafening. "You shouldn't do that," he said in a voice so quiet that only he could possibly hear it. Slowly, carefully, he lifted his arm and set it in his lap. The look he gave Theo was a mask that failed to conceal his terror and rage and pain. It was an apology and a plea all at once.
"Hand's fine," he muttered. "I've done worse to it."
With that single look, Theo knew that the reality of the cage the nobleman lived in had finally materialized for Fletcher. He gave an understanding nod while allowing the other man to retreat. All walls had ears. All doors lacked locks. All windows let in endless sunshine and fresh air but no freedom.
"That wasn't what I asked," he replied softly, turning a page without having read it. "Do you want to talk about it or would you rather I sit quietly and let you drink your coffee? Or do you need to go down to the training grounds to let off some energy?"
Talk? Talking was the last thing he wanted. So was coffee, after that fuck-awful bourbon on an empty stomach. He couldn't see how he was going to make it a full day with this stewing inside of him. Already, the Baron's voice had become his father's, and the ice in his gut had turned to acid. Sitting and seething wasn't an option. He had to —
" — go down to the training grounds to let off some energy?"
Fletcher glanced over at Theo again. The man was trying to help. Trying to be nice. Normally, Fletch hated nice. He didn't trust it. But he'd known Theo long enough now to understand that this was genuine. Whatever the Baron had said about his son's proclivity to lie, Fletch knew for a fact that Theo only ever strove to be good. To be honest. To see people for who they were.
And right now, he seemed to sense exactly what was needed.
"Yeah. That," Fletch said. He set his coffee aside and stood. Hands clasped behind his back, posture just as stiff as before, he waited worthlessly for Theo to set his book aside and gather himself for a walk. He allowed the man to go first down the stairs, lest it appear that he led Theo anywhere as opposed to guarding him. All the while, he kept an ear perked for the Baron and Baroness. It was fortunate for everyone involved that neither of them materialized.
Then, in another ear-ringing blur, they were at the grounds. It was cold. It was always so bloody cold, here. It was worse when he removed his coat and rolled his sleeves up to box. But the crisp air slapped him awake in a way that so much coffee hadn't. And somehow, it tempered the thing that burned in him to be released.
Without so much as a look at Theo, he chose a straw dummy and unleashed that fury. Every stinging, aching right hook was an unspoken retort to a monster made of Theo's father and his own. He was quiet enough at first, but for the grunts and breaths that accompanied a flying fist. By the time he'd burned through the rage and thrown one final punch, it crescendoed into an anguished roar. "Fuck!" he cried, and stood heaving before the dummy, clutching his fist.
Every punch thrown was a blow Theodore wished he himself was unleashing. He stood as a silent observer to the fury and anguish his friend was tearing himself apart to release. In the dummy he didn't see straw and twine. Theo saw the face of a driver, a lover, a mother, a father. He saw Orz with his big mouth and all the vile things he had spoke about others. He saw Elijah and the look of disappointment and grief as he'd turn his back on him. He saw his mother, red-faced and fanning herself as she sobbed about her poor nerves for simply not getting her way. He saw his father and the look of sheer disgust at discovering his son kissing another man, before he boxed him into a physical, financial, and emotional corner. Punch after punch after punch and it felt as if it were his own fists colliding with flesh.
Theo did nothing to interfere until Fletcher finally came to a screaming halt. The nobleman gave wide berth as he approached from the man's sighted side. "The basilisk paralyzes us all within his gaze," he murmured softly. "And he coils ever tighter around that which he concerns prey. I know. Will you allow me to look at your hand at least before you return to your...exercise?"
Fletcher stewed in it for a while longer, massaging his knuckles and glowering at the sand beneath his feet. At Theo's words, however, the walls dropped. He scoffed and shot the man an exasperated look. "What, you're a fucking poet, now?" He flexed his fingers in and out, testing for whether he had, in fact, caused any serious damage. But he seemed to have avoided the worst. He straightened and clasped his hands behind his back and stood there still but for his heaving chest and the occasional shiver. "I can take care of it, sir," he insisted. "It's nothing."
Theo scowled at the teasing and muttered under his breath. "Not here." He peered with keen eyes at the way the man flexed his hand before hiding it away, yet still shivered in the cold as sweat chilled in the crisp, autumn air. "If you allow yourself to get hurt or sick who will protect me then? You haven't trained me yet to defend myself after all. Go take care of it and dry off. That's an order."
Fletch breathed out a quiet little laugh. "Begging your pardon, sir, but as I've just been reminded, you're not the one I answer to. I said I'll take care of it, and I will." He turned back to the dummy and resumed his stance. His strikes now were more controlled, though his exhaustion still made for sloppy work. "As for defending you," he added in between blows and breaths, "why don't — you try — the three other men — who'll be taking up — guarding — your prison."
He stepped away again, puffing and pacing and holding his fist. It took him a moment to look Theo in the eye. "Tighter rotations," he said. "No more privacy for you. And that's after bargaining."
"Mm so you're right. I will do my best to keep that in mind in the future to not put you in such a difficult position." Theo moved so that he was standing adjacent to the dummy so as to be able to still see Fletcher's mouth as he unleashed more rage. "Person," he corrected. "And while I indeed will learn from the other guards as well, I do not know yet whether I would be safe should a training accident occur. I have seen you spar. As the head of the guard here, I know you are more likely to be more in control."
He was unbothered by the news. It was as if it was nothing new to him, and truth be told it wasn't. Every little thing Theo did that was deemed inappropriate or out of line was retaliated with a loss of 'privileges' and a tightening of the leash. More guards, more rotations, less privacy, less free-time: this was all hardly the first time this had happened. He knew well enough how to sit pretty in his cage and wait out the physically painless beatings to his morale until which time they were once more lifted.
For Fletcher it must have seemed so utterly hopeless and soul-crushing. For Theodore it was just your typical Tuesday. "I can only imagine what you sacrificed to make it that lenient. Thank you then for your considerations."
Fletch scoffed. Truthfully, he couldn't tell if Theo was being sarcastic or earnest. Surely the man didn't actually feel thankful towards his keeper. He glanced around them and scratched the back of his head before rounding on his friend. "You serious?" he asked as he struggled to keep his voice from rising. "What I sacrificed? I've sacrificed fuck all, sir. That's the point. All I've done is make it worse." He released a long, deep sigh as he backed himself down off that ledge, shook his hands out, and turned back to the dummy. He couldn't direct this at Theo. This wasn't Theo's fault.
"As the grave, Mr. Daw. As the grave." Theo shrugged, his hands clasped behind his back as he came around to look at the dummy. He reached out to lightly punch the straw, feeling the resistance and shaking his hand out slightly after as even that stung.
"You didn't make it worse. As I've mentioned previously there are ebbs and flows to things here. But I am..." Theo paused to glance carefully around to make sure no one was in the area as he did a slow turn in place. "Very sorry for the things he likely said to you. The fact he even told you plans is good. It means he doesn't suspect you and does trust you as far as he could trust the help that is."
Theodore grimaced and shook his head. "He's a basilisk: appears harmless, slow, and old but just as viscous as he slowly coils tight around you. The contempt for someone like me is always boiling just beneath the surface. And if not me, then..." he flipped his hand as he trailed off. "The longer I behave, the more people I come to care about, the more necessary it becomes to continue to behave. Round and round we go in this endless cycle. And now you fully understand why the door is open to you. I respect you too much to heel you here."
Even as wound up as he was, he listened carefully to all that Theo had to tell him. It seemed imperative, now. He couldn't just lay around and assume it was all some joke. He had to take this seriously. This wasn't his world, and he would always harbor irreverence for it. But it was Theo's. And he was sharp, and observant, and he knew how to navigate this place. And on that, Fletcher would depend.
Still, as the man insisted for the fiftieth time that he cut and run, he stopped boxing and raised his eyebrows in warning. "I'm not leaving. That's not an option. I don't want to hear it again." He backed away and paced a little more and rubbed his jaw as he processed it all. The Baron trusted him. He had a say over the new guards. He had an advisor who could tell him what to say and how to act. And he was free to leave at night, ostensibly to drink and whore. All of these granted him an advantage. In his current state, he just couldn't quite see the path through it all. Maybe Theo was right. Maybe he just needed sleep. In the morning, it would come to him.
He turned back to his friend, suddenly spent and sagging under his own weight. "I'm done here," he said. "Go about your day and I'll follow."
He raised both hands in unspoken surrender. "Understood. Won't happen again." Theo rubbed at his eyes, trying desperately to decide what to do next. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to just crawl into bed and sleep for a thousand years.
Yet, on the other hand, he didn't think it fair either to take a nap and torture Fletcher with watching him sleep when the man was equally if not more miserable. Add to that having a man in his room while he slept was just begging for his father to come barreling in and start assuming untrue things when they had only just proved that Fletcher was considered trusted.
"After the events and shock of today I think Mr. Daw I would very much like to retire to my room. If you have other tasks already on your plate from the Baron then I would prefer Stephens to replace you. He at least can quietly entertain himself without asking too many questions on what I'm reading."
Fletcher's neck jerked in unconscious recoil. It was rare that Theo didn't want him there — rare enough that the request seemed more like a slap. To be left alone with this right after it had happened...well. He dreaded it. He just hadn't known that until now. His eye darted back and forth before focusing back on Theo. His shoulders fell as he resigned himself to being left with silence and his own swirling thoughts. "Fine. I'll escort you to your room," he replied, and strode to retrieve his coat.
Theo's brows scrunched in confused concern. That had not been the reaction he had been expecting from Fletcher. The man looked like he had physically thrown a fist...again. Still, he held his tongue as they trudged back inside and up to his room. In his doorway though he paused, mulling over something before working up the calm to speak.
"Before you tend to your duties and switch my guard for the afternoon would you be so kind as to recheck the balcony for me?"
Without waiting for an answer, he held the door open and scooted further from the door to be fully in the room and by the balcony doors. Once he felt they were safer from being overheard he whispered, "are you just exhausted from everything or have I done something wrong? Or...," he lowered his voice further, "was Stephens a poor replacement for while you rest?"
Back into the house, hands behind his back, stiff and proper as you please — until Theo asked him to 'secure the balcony.' It was bullshit, of course. Fletcher frowned, now wholly confused by this wrench thrown in a very simple request to leave the man alone. And at Theo's questions, that confusion only grew. Was he playing games? "I'm too tired for this," Fletch muttered, unable to keep his irritation out of his tone. "Make up your mind, please, sir."
He could see from the drawn lines of Fletchers face, the irritation in his eye, and the tension lines that ran like steel through his body. What Theo could not understand though was how he had managed to upset his bodyguard and how he was coming off wishy-washy.
"I don't—I'm not...I do not mean to make you feel like I am tugging you back and forth. I'm afraid I don't understand what confusion I've caused. When I suggested that you take the afternoon off to rest you looked like I slapped you. Have I said something out of line? Or was it suggesting Stephens while you rest? Or has my father said something more that you haven't been able to tell me? I just...I'm sorry I know you're as exhausted as I am and I just don't...I don't know what I've done this time."
Had he been that obvious? His anxiety redoubled. Today would be a bad day indeed if he couldn't get a grip on his own tells. He glanced worriedly at the door, then back at Theo. He reminded himself that none of this was the man's fault, and his expression softened again. "It's none of that. Don't worry about it. I think I'm just...not at my best, sir. But...you're probably right that we should both get some shut eye. I'll go get him."
He lingered a few seconds more before giving Theo a curt nod and slipping out the door without another word. A minute later, a confused Stephens now once again assigned babysitting duty, Fletcher returned to his own room and flopped listlessly down on the bed. As silence fell, thoughts of his father crept in from the shadows. He'd known they would. Had he been rested, he might have been ready for them. Today, he wasn't, and as he curled around himself and closed his eyes, the scars across his back stretched taut: an enduring reminder of the man who'd made him.
Autumn passed them by in a blur, every day of it a perfectly exhausting dance of rules and appearances and propriety. Fletcher could feel it all wearing on him now, grinding him into the dirt beneath a boot heel until his skin was raw and bruised. More and more, he retreated in the evenings to a nightcap of too much whiskey. During the day, he was quiet and formal and sullen. Indeed, it seemed that the man who'd arrived here half a year past with laughter in his eye and biting wit behind every word had faded away that morning in the Baron's study.
It wasn't to say that he didn't still calculate and plan and plot. This much was a habit that might never die. In spite of Theo's wishes, he'd begun to sniff around for traces of Elijah. The new driver and additional guards he'd carefully vetted for a rare combination of competence, discretion, and a particular softness. And twice a week, he pushed Theo out into the bitter cold for combat training — though the man was so shockingly uncoordinated that he quickly reeled it back to working on his strength and the basics of keeping one's balance. The only savior to his dwindling patience in this regard was the coat that the man had gifted him: a warm and glorious thing, charcoal gray, with a shock of vermilion lining. It was possibly the nicest thing he'd ever owned — though, true to his usual acerbity, he refused to wear it without first informing Theo that it made him look like an absolute fop. But he did wear it. And he was secretly thankful to be warm.
In spite of it, as winter drew closer, and with it the second anniversary of a moment he desperately wished to forget, Fletch grew more and more ill-tempered. He'd gone so far as to ask Aneisha to stow Ven's cloak somewhere safe so that he didn't have to smell the damned thing. Yet the memory continued to intrude: that pale and lovely face, lips blue and glassy eyes unblinking, held still warm in his shaking hands. It haunted him day and night, now, weaving in between those reminders of his father's voice and his father's cruelty. His only reprieve was at the bottom of a bottle. And so he drank, and he fell deeper into that pit of a prison: a distant husk of a man and a far cry from friend to Theo.
The colder days and longer nights created a numbness that seemed to chill Theodore deeper than bone. This time of year was already difficult before with less and less opportunities for him to leave the house. Soon winter would be in full bloom and he would be trapped inside until the coming spring with no lessons to distract him from how narrow the bars of his cage truly were. The new guards and routines became normal very quickly for him and true to his reassurances to Fletcher, the Baron had allowed the bodyguard to manage things and to loosen the leash ever so slightly without further repercussions.
His spark was dwindling again, having been ignited into a warm flame on the night of their grand adventure, it now barely kept alive. Theo had retreated into quiet politeness. It did not help matters that the only time he truly got to interact with his friend was when they were training. Otherwise, Fletcher has all but retreated and the silence had grown longer and deeper between them. The other man had said he had done nothing wrong and yet, Theo still could see something was eating him alive. Perhaps it was the kiss after all. He really had overstepped the boundaries of friendship with that. Or perhaps it was resentment for remaining in the cage Theo had warned him repeatedly about. The nobleman found himself too afraid to ask and yet hesitating before their conjoined door most nights all the same. He wanted to help and yet all he could do was stand as silent witness until the other man reached back for him.
Such thoughts distracted him though and he hit the ground hard again. Theo laid in the sand, trying to catch his breath as a breeze chilled the sweat on his brow. How long had they been at this and he still could not improve? It meant nothing that he could read what would happen next when his own body was too slow and out of sync to react in time. It was useless. If there ever was an attack, Theodore was going to get everyone injured or worse because they'd be too busy trying to help him rather than themselves. If anything he was more likely to be the one to land a blow on them than the enemy.
His muscles were screaming and his bruises felt like they had bruises. This was pointless and yet Fletcher still worked him with patient persistence. Theo wished they could just go back to talking instead. He missed what he had had and felt deep regret for getting greedy and trying to have a confidant. If he had just kept his mouth shut, his hands to himself, his emotions in check none of this would have spiraled out this way. But, what could he do? This was the nature of his cage. He could sit inside, pretty and quiet and only wait for others to leave as they grew bored with it.
"It's hopeless," he groaned. "Give me a century and I'll still be a mess."
Fletcher stood, hands on his hips, head cocked ever so slightly in subtle impatience as he looked down at the nobleman. Theo was right: he wasn't improving nearly as fast as he'd expected. Granted, Fletch hadn't instructed anyone in combat in a good six years, but still, he'd never seen someone this slow in learning the basics. Or this uncoordinated, or this weak — though Theo did show some promise there as his strength improved.
But, stubborn ass that he was, Fletch wasn't going to let the man quit after a few months. If he did, there would be even less to do over the winter, and anything fun or interesting was in critically short supply at the moment. "No, it's not," he grunted. "If your mum wasn't...your mum, I swear we'd have this by now. Twice a week isn't doing it." He sighed and grumbled under his breath, then added uselessly for the millionth time: "If they'd let me bring you sailing on one of their ships, you'd figure it out quick. Right. Come on. Up you get, Pretty Boy. Break's over."
"If the Baroness wasn't my mother I would just be one giant bruise and still be flat out on my posterior in the sand." Theo groaned and shook his head refusing to move from his cold spot. "Somehow I think being on a ship would just make it all worse. Wouldn't you have more fun teaching Captain Neish right now?"
He grunted and made no move to get up. "Perhaps we should just have me practice playing dead. No coordination required in keeping still."
"'S not about fun," Fletch said. It was partly a lie, of course. He was out here for the distraction on top of his actual duties. Still, he wasn't letting Theo get out of it that easily. He bent and offered an arm to help him up. "Neish can already take care of herself. I need you to do the same."
Theo didn't take the help. Fletch frowned, stepped back, and crossed his arms in an equally stubborn refusal to manhandle the nobleman during this latest childish display. His expression deepened into a scowl at what Theo said next. "That's an ugly thing to say, sir," he muttered, mouth turned in disgust. His interest in training the brat evaporated. "Fine. I won't force it. I think we're done here."
Theo refuses the hand not wanting to move but the look on Fletcher's face made him sigh and sit up finally. "I have to go to the seamstresses for the fitting anyway," he grumbled while brushing the sand off his clothes and out of his hair. "Still is survival by any means still the worst thing?"
The nobleman pounced suddenly in an attempt to tackle Fletcher from the side. He hoped the element of surprise would at least gain him some success for once.
"Agh!" It had indeed caught him by surprise, and he stumbled to catch his balance. His shock became ire in an instant, and before he could stop himself, he decided to fight. His heel slid and dug into the sand, and he bent fluidly with the rest of Theo's momentum before turning and throwing his weight forward, sending the man back from where he'd come. What a bitter irony that Ven had been the one to teach him how to move like that.
Fletcher cast a scornful look at the nobleman, now wholly ticked off. "I said we're done," he barked. "This isn't a bloody playground."
The nobleman went down again with an oof. But, a breath later he was clumsily clambering back into his feet. It was as if hitting the ground had turned a wheel in him and released all of his buried feelings, igniting them into a burning inferno that screamed to fight.
Why did Fletcher get to decide when they were done because he was bored? Why did Theo who was miserable to begin with have to do all this and be made more miserable? Why was it only on the other man's terms? Why did it have to be only his way? Why couldn't he meet him in the middle in a way Theo could manage?
Why wasn't his friend speaking to him anymore?
Blind fire turned to ice in Theo's veins. Why wasn't Fletcher talking to him anymore? Why wasn't he accepting help? Why wasn't he sharing what was hurting him? Why was he staying if being here was so miserable?
"And I am not a child!" He bellowed back. Theo bent his knees, tucked his chin, and squared his shoulders before attempting to tackle Fletcher again. This time, the moment he connected with his bodyguard's waist, he immediately dropped his own weight to hit the ground in a desperate effort to use his own momentum to drag the man off balance and ground himself further.
"You are not a god! Your way is not the only way!"
Theo did it. He actually did it. As he hit the ground, Fletch wondered if it was sheer, dumb luck or if he'd just been caught off guard. His breath left his lungs. His elbow struck something hard and the nerves jolted up his arm. Theo landed atop his legs, a flailing weight made of nothing but bones and limbs. In spite of himself, he cracked a grin like an absolute maniac. It was a fight now. A real fight.
Fletcher rolled his torso out from under the man, pulled a leg out, and tried to shove Theo off of him, but the man wouldn't budge. So he did the next best thing and rolled atop him. It twisted his knee all wrong in the process, but if it sent the damned message once and for all, a little battle damage was a small price to pay.
He straddled the man he'd sworn to protect, his killer's smile just far enough away for Theo to read, one arm held firm to his throat. "Then fucking act like it, mate," he taunted.
One minute he'd succeeded and the next he was pinned under Fletcher with his throat in a warning grasp. It meant nothing to Theo though. Anger instead of self-preservation was his driving force. His bodyguard could truly be attempting to kill Jin and he would still fight like a demon out of hell.
Instead of fighting the grasp at his neck, Theodore snarled and clawed at Fletcher's face. His eye, his ears, his nose, nothing was safe. The nobleman looked like a man crazed and possessed. "Mate?" He spat through bared teeth. "As if you've allowed me friendship the last few months!"
He slapped at the man's ear and tried to shove him off his chest while spewing hateful venom in an increasing over-boiling rage. "Get the fuck off me you fat-kidneyed, wandoughty, fopdoodle, cunt-bitten coward!"
Theo was out for blood. Claws out like a cornered stray, he'd gone from prim and proper to vicious in an instant, and if Fletcher wasn't careful, he'd lose his other eye. "Alright, alright, fuck, fuck. You fight like a woman, you little arsehole." He released his arm and scrambled to his feet, wincing at the fresh stab of pain in his elbow. He could feel the brisk wind on that open wound, and there was blood on a rock that protruded from where he'd fallen. It must have torn right through his coat sleeve. But that wasn't what had slapped him out of it — no. Theo had said something that gave him pause.
It was true that he'd been distant. He'd be the first to admit that he was just barely holding it all together and salving the rest with whiskey. He just hadn't expected Theo to take it so...personally. The last few months, he thought. Had it been that long? But when he tried to remember what had started this in the first place, his mind slid around it like it wasn't there at all. Then the thought left him altogether, and he felt suddenly so tired, and the fight in him dissipated into the cold air.
Too stubborn to apologize, and unwilling to try to help Theo up again, Fletch stared wordlessly down at the man on the ground, uncertain what his friend wanted of him.
Theo was on his feet not far behind Fletcher once he was set free. His breath heaved hard and heavy in his lungs as he stood in a wide-legged bracing stance with bent knees and hunched shoulders as if prepared for another attack. But when the other man simply stared at him, the nobleman marched right up into the bodyguard's face and proceeded to repeatedly jab him in the sternum.
"You. Are not. Alone! Quit acting like it!"
He did not even wait for a reply as he stomped away from him and back into the house. His throat hurt but his heart ached more. Theo's eyes burned with tears he fought so desperately to hold back. If he just made it to his room. If he just kept it together long enough no one would have to see what a child he was. What a weak, catty woman he was. What a terrible, terrible friend he was.
His heart thundered in his ribcage as he found himself holding his breath. Stairs were taken two at a time and blessedly before he knew it he was in his room. He had no idea if Fletcher followed him. If he was honest he didn't want to know. Theo did not dare look back as he attempted to slam his bedroom door behind him seconds before collapsing into the nearest chair with jelly legs and disquieting numb fog filling his senses and emotions.
He opened his mouth to reply, but...what could he say to that? He was alone. Wasn't he? In duty and in station and with the weight of a dead man who'd chosen to leave him behind rather than face another winter together, he was alone. But even those insistent thoughts rang hollow against what Theo had just said. Warm, soft, dependable Theo, who'd put up with months of this free-fall into madness without a word of it until this very moment. The man he'd sworn to fix this for, and all he'd done was make him even more miserable.
And Fletcher still couldn't tell him. He wouldn't. Because once he started, the walls would crumble and it would all come out, and he didn't want to be there to see it all for what it was and pick it back up again. He couldn't be so weak. Not in front of Theo. Not even in the privacy of his own room.
He watched the man leave. He waited until Theo had put a respectful distance between them. Then, bound to his duties, he followed. By the time he'd reached the second floor, Theo's door was closed. He reached for the handle. His hand hovered there for a moment. Then, with a regretful sigh, he thought better of it and returned to his quarters. There, he passed the time in painful silence, cleaning his cut and patching up the coat that he had never deserved.
The passage of time was unrecognizable to Theodore. He sat in his chair, head in his hands, existing, breathing, but a husk of himself. He did not understand what had come over him. He did not recognize the uncontrollable rage that had fueled so much nasty, oily, venomous violence within him. The insults he had spewed rang in his head again and again. Never in his life had he uttered such hateful things before and yet there he had been passing them out like lifelines and to of all people, his only friend.
His stomach turned sharply as bile rose in his throat. He clumsily stumbled to his feet, knocked over his privacy screen in passing and collapsed in front of his washing basin, dry-heaving wretchedly in his self-loathing.
What had he done?
What ugliness had he unleashed and at what cost?
Theo cursed himself aloud in his native tongue as he gripped the wash basin in a steely hold. If he thought the words he'd called Fletcher were vile the ones he called himself were even more heinous. He hated this place. He hated his cage. He hated what he had done. He hated his own weakness. Yet, more deeply and more raw than all of it was his own hatred for himself.
He punched the side of metal tub as hard as he could, a loud bang reverberating through the two rooms followed by a deeply muffled whimper of pain. The very breath froze in his lungs as white-hot pain exploded up from the back of his hand up into his elbow in radiating, pulsing shockwaves. Tears prickled once more at the corners of his eyes as he dragged himself to his feet his right arm cradled in his other hand so that he could return to his main room.
With a steadying breath he attempted to make a fist and paled with the pain and realization that his hand would not obey. "FUCK!" He swore kicking a chair as hard as he could, sending it flying explosively across the room and into his dresser where it broke apart.
Unbeknownst to Theodore, there was something very special about the nanny room that was conjoined with his own. When the room was built, it was done so in such a way that any sounds made in Theo's room were as clear as if made within Fletcher's space. It was done so that a nanny could hear the softest whimper of discomfort or whisper of mischief from an infant and later young boy and act accordingly. Having lost his hearing as a child and no one ever informing him of this fact, Theodore had no idea that Fletcher could hear every single little part of his current temper tantrum as if it was happening in the same room as him.
It was dead silent. Fletcher leaned over his coat sleeve, needle in hand and fingers shaking, slowly mending what he'd torn. The rock had gone through both the coat and his shirt, and the last thing he wanted to do was explain to Neish that Theo had thrown him on the ground for being an ass. So he'd do it himself, even if his stitches were never the neatest.
There came some muttering from behind the door. He paused and glanced up, frowning and listening, then sighed and shook his head and went back to tying off the last stitch in his coat. Theo was talking to himself again in that language, and even if Fletcher was able to understand it, there was no sense in eavesdropping. The man needed a moment alone. Fletch would grant him that. He stood, turned his coat right side out again, and laid it on the bed, then got to work pulling the shirt over his head.
No sooner was it in his hands then the noises started. First a clang, then a hiss. Fletch glanced towards the nanny door again, this time worriedly. He cocked his head and listened carefully, eye darting back and forth. He needn't have. The following cry and the smashing chair would have woken him from a dead sleep. Something was very wrong. He could hear it in the man's tone. "Shit," he muttered. He tossed the torn and bloodied shirt to the bed, unlocked the nanny door, and burst through, one hand on his rapier. "Sir? S — oh."
His eye traveled from Theo to the broken chair, then back again. He cleared his throat. He blinked. His hand relaxed from the rapier and fell awkwardly back to his side. "Are you, erm...what was that?"
Theo paled and then turned bright red as his actions caused Fletcher to coming flying into the room to his aid. The nobleman quickly dropped his injured arm, hiding it as best as he could behind his back while shifting his body to the side some to better hide it. His face went through a series of expressions that were all varying shades of guilty child caught misbehaving: anger to hurt to shame, guilt, and embarrassment.
His voice came off rough as if his earlier expletives had burned his vocal chords right out of him with their acid. "Apologies for concerning you. I..." Theo trailed off, completely unable to explain what happened or look the other man in the face. His blush deepened further though when he realized he was staring at Fletcher's bare chest. He hadn't expected the man to have so many tattoos or scars, to look so good.
Hazel eyes snapped up to meet Fletcher's eye, knowing he'd been caught looking. "I have no excuse for my actions--where are your clothes?" The last part left him suddenly in a whooshing rush as if the words stole his last breaths from his lungs.
Fletcher cocked his head again and squinted. Theo had done a poor job of trying to hide something and had, in fact, just managed to call his attention to it instead. He wondered if the nobleman had done what he had after that fateful meeting with the Baron. His face fell at the thought that he'd been to Theo what that snake had been to him. He returned his gaze to Theo and drew breath to ask, only to be met with fluster.
He scoffed. A strange and exasperated smile crept over his features. "Er, well, someone pushed me to the ground and I had to mend a few things from it. Truthfully, sir, I didn't anticipate needing to rescue you from a chair in the next hour." He looked down at himself, then back at Theo. "Yeah. I'll...go put a shirt on. Don't go anywhere. I'm going to take a look at that hand."
Fletcher turned, exposing a back torn apart by countless old, gnarled whip scars that snaked over his shoulders and spine. He shut the nanny door gently behind him, found a clean shirt, pulled it on without a care for how it messed up his hair, and returned. He stopped well on the other side of the room from Theo like he wasn't even certain he should be there. "Will you let me have a look at it?" he asked quietly.
He pursed his lips and glanced guiltily at the chair while muttering under his breath. "Clearly the chair was the one more in need of rescuing." Theo nearly gasped though as he saw Fletcher's back. He bit his lip hard instead to quiet himself. The extent of healed injuries was far more than he had ever imagined. Theo had been told over the months of knowing Fletcher that he had an angry father and had also lived at sea for a good portion of his life. But, this was far more than just that. It made him feel sick to his stomach knowing how strong Fletcher was to have survived while he himself whined and bemoaned a life of luxury and comfort. It was disgustingly out of touch with reality, and he knew it.
Theo scrubbed at his face, turning his back to the servant quarters and began picking some things up. The privacy screen would require help but the items knocked over on the dresser he could handle himself. He used his foot to sweep the chair pieces into a pile. By the time Fletcher was walking back in the door, Theodore was righting the last tchotchke.
The nobleman crossed his arms, tucking his injured hand carefully under the other and out of view while looking at Fletcher with an unimpressed raised brow. He shrugged and looked around the room. "It's a mess, I know. Have at it if you wish to confirm its safety." He shook his head and stepped back from the chair carnage, turning rather green as the movement jostled and squished his hand in a deeply painful way.
Fletcher sighed. He remained where he was. "The hand, sir. Not the room. Will you let me look?"
He untucked his uninjured left hand and held it up to Fletcher. First he turned it one way and then the other, proving there was nothing wrong with it all while giving the look of a very irritated teenage boy who had no time for his overbearing parents and their pointless rules and nonsense. "Happy?"
"No. Not really. That's not the one you hid." Cautiously, as though he wasn't sure whether the nobleman would bite him, approached the man. He stopped well outside of swinging distance and leaned to get a better look at the other one. But Theo had hidden it beneath the other arm. He straightened and tried again. "Theo, please. It's probably better me than someone who'll tell your mum. And if you really hurt yourself — if you broke something — time's of the essence."
Theo looked away like a sullen teenager because he knew that Fletcher's words were true. He just could not understand how the man could be so seemingly gentle and patient with him though after all the horrible things he said and way he behaved. Or how he could act like he cared after months of just holding him at a distance. Of course Theodore wanted his friend back, but not like this, not because of this. It just made him feel like they were never friends at all. But, then again, given their status differences, perhaps that was the truth after all.
With a short, reluctant sigh, Theo removed his hand from under his arm, although he refused to look down at it and held it out to Fletcher. The back of his hand was already blooming a nasty black bruise and had begun to swell. His fingers hung half-curled as if the effort to straighten them was too much. The skin itself was hot to the touch, a stark contrast to his usual icy hands. The look on his face though was that of complete and utter shame.
Fletch closed the distance between them. The closer he got, the more worried he became, though he didn't dare touch it just yet. By the bruising, it could very well be broken. And the way Theo held it...this wasn't good. Not at all. He grimaced. "This might be above my pay grade," he murmured, and reached out gingerly. "Okay. Erm...I'm going to feel for something, and I think it's going to hurt. A lot. You ready?"
He readjusted his stance to brace himself better and then nodded. "Go ahead."
Fletch took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He shot one last look at Theo — a look fraught with guilt and genuine concern — before bending to focus. "Okay, palm towards the floor," he began. Then he realized that Theo couldn't read him like this and stopped. He'd never been good at playing doctor anyways. That was always Ven's domain. But someone had to take care of Theo if he wasn't willing to do it himself, and so, gently as he could, he grasped the man's arm and turned it so the bruise faced upward.
He cupped his hand beneath Theo's to hold it steady, fingers splayed to support the wrist. He held his breath. With barely a whisper of a brush, he ran a finger over the bruise, following the line of the bones. Nothing poked from beneath the skin. Fletch straightened his back, gently raising Theo's arm, and looked him in the eye. "Take a breath," he grimaced. "And let it out. This is the part that hurts. Ready?"
Fletcher pressed a thumb to the bruise, wincing in anticipation of a cry of pain. "Yep. Yeah. Okay. That's all I needed." He released Theo's hand and stepped back, now looking just as green as his friend. Perspiration glistened at his temples as he stared wide-eyed at the nobleman. He swallowed. "It's broken. That's...that's not something I can fix. Theo, you need a healer. Now."
Inhale. Exhale. Silent scream.
Theo kept his eyes on Fletcher's face as the man felt the bones in his broken hand. But, even the slightest pressure turned him green and the fullest pressure blew his pupils as wide as dinner plates. His lips turned pure white in an effort to keep them closed while a muffled, wheezing, groaning scream of pain strained out of him.
The nobleman breathed fast and heavy from his nose as he was released, brows furrowed in pain as he desperately focused on remaining put together. It took several attempts for him to be able to speak but, even then it was through loosely gritted teeth.
"It will heal on its own. The Baroness will be expecting us downstairs soon."
"Theo...no. I don't think you understand." Fletch wiped his brow and shook his head. Normally he'd have lost his patience and flown off the handle already, but somehow, the weight of that guilt still held him steady. After all, if he hadn't been so horribly behaved, none of this would have happened. It seemed all he did anymore was cause damage.
Well. Time to clean up his own mess again. He gazed at Theo imploringly and with utter seriousness. His voice shook as he spoke, and he was thankful that the man couldn't hear the fear in it. "You've never broken a bone, have you? You can't have, if...look. I've seen plenty of breaks, and I've seen them heal wrong. Believe me when I say that if it's serious enough, and a bone shifts out of place, and doesn't set correctly, that piano is going to gather dust for the rest of your life. You need to see a healer, Theo. Please."
He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eye tight and tried to think of some way to get through to the man. He dropped his hand to his side again. "Just...tell her it was my fault. You wouldn't be wrong."
He didn't need to hear to know it. Theo wanted nothing more than to reach out and cup Fletcher's cheek, to brush the sweat off his brow, to pull him close and reassure him it was okay, that there was nothing to worry about. His eyes slid away from the other man's lips as a shadow fell over them. He didn't have the right to care. He was a terrible friend and this was just pity and fear for Fletcher's job. The man was even trying to cover for him again.
"No. It's my fault. I was standing on the chair and it broke. I tried to use my hand to catch myself and there was a snap. It's my fault. I'm sorry to trouble you. Can you please help right the folding screen before we get help? Don't need extra questions."
He opened his mouth to argue, but quickly shut it when he realized what the man was doing. They both knew it was a lie. But maybe a lie was better than the truth of whatever had just happened. "I...yeah. Alright. I'll just..." With one last glance at Theo's hand, he pursed his lips in determination, nodded, and stepped away to lift the screen back where it had stood. Then he circled around the man and back through the nanny door, disappeared for a moment, and returned with his mended coat.
"Okay," he said as he ran a hand over his hair in a weak attempt to smooth it. "Tell who you need to. I'll follow you."
"We're going to be late," he sighed. "And I'm covered in sand. She's going to have a fit. Her poor nerves." Theodore shook his head and did his best to brush his shoulder off with one hand while walking out the door and down the stairs. Sure enough, as soon as he was within sight, the Baroness started up her godawful shrieking, going on and on about them being late and how difficult it was to even get an appointment with this seamstress to begin with and how prestigious the woman was, how she did the clothes for the Viscountess Noxel and not just anyone could do that harpy's clothes.
"What happened to your hand?! Oh my nerves!" The Baroness immediately started faint-falling in Fletcher's direction the moment the pair were within range and she caught sight of Theo's broken hand. She fanned herself rapidly while melting to the floor.
"I require a healer. I had a fall," he replied in an unusually reserved and clipped manner. "The fitting can wait."
"The fitting most certainly cannot! Into the carriage at once! BOTH OF YOU!" Suddenly the woman was apparently fine from her nervous spell and was back to her feet and shoving her son forward as fast as possible. "You too Mr. Daw! You've delayed us long enough Teddy Bear. We can have a healer meet us there!"
Mother and son sat side by side leaving only the spot across from Theo for Fletcher as the Baroness placed her tiny coin purse in the space across from her.
Fletch chose to step aside as subtly as he could rather than so much as come near that horrible woman, and kept his hands clasped firmly behind his back. If she wanted to make a very real injury about her, she could certainly just sit on the dirty floor and deal with it. His expression, a few seconds ago melancholy and etched with worry, now drew taut into the clenched jaw and downtowned mouth that marked the barely-concealed contempt he held for this woman and her viper husband. Sure enough, it was an act — the woman rose right back to her feet. What he wouldn't give to stick a leg out and trip the bitch flat on her face. See how quick she'd call the healer then.
"Tiff, with me," he called to one of the guardsmen as they passed through the front door. While technically they wouldn't be needing a second prison guard for Theo, Fletch followed the Baron's orders to the letter — at least, in appearance. This was a trip into town, so two guards it was. He waited for Theo and the woman to pile into the carriage, directed Tiffany up top next to their new driver, and then hopped in and shut the door. Once settled, he glared pointedly out the window and away from the Baroness — both because he couldn't stand her, and to stave off the inevitable carriage sickness.
Theo did his best to rest his injured hand in his lap. The jostling of the carriage however was doing nothing for the pain. The man whimpered softly, biting his lip hard at one particularly nasty bump in the road and looking more and more by the second like he was going to be ill. He pressed his knee into Fletcher's without thinking, taking comfort from friendly contact in the crowded, unpleasant space that was as much a cage as home.
He practically tumbled right out of the carriage as soon as it stopped and had to lean against the side to keep from upending his stomach on the spot. Not even the Baroness's flailing and squawking was phasing him in the moment. "Tiffany," Theo called softly to the very tall and broad-shouldered guard. "Can you fetch the healer please." The man nodded his head although glanced to Fletcher, wordlessly asking permission as Ivory dragged her son in for his fitting.
The nobleman was immediately swarmed by the seamstress and her assistant as all three woman took to poking at his clothes and trying to use him as a living doll for their own entertainment. For his part, Theodore endured without complaint save for the occasional flinch and jerk of his hand as it was bumped in their excitement.
The bumps in the road. He wished he'd thought of it earlier. With autumn rains came the inevitable potholes, and now they were stuck in this suffocating box, and it felt like someone was shaking it. At least on a ship, the rocking was predictable. In the carriage, with the only view being out the side through the windows, one never knew when one would be thrown around. It was bad enough on him with his nausea. For Theo, it must have been hell.
Something pressed against his knee. He glanced down, hoping to all that was holy that he hadn't just accidentally bumped the Baroness, but no. It was just Theo. Whether or not he knew what he was doing, the man kept his leg there, and Fletcher made no effort to move away. Instead, he slid his hands into his lap where the man could see them, made a show of picking at his nails, then slowly signed a message. "Just keep breathing. We're almost there."
Finally, they arrived, but before he could help Theo out of the carriage, the man tumbled forth and only narrowly caught himself. Fletch hopped out next to him just as Theo took the words right out of his mouth. As Tiff looked to him for confirmation, Fletcher's eye widened and he nodded vehemently. Yes, this was real. Yes, this was serious. He sidled up next to the horses under the pretense of speaking with the driver and his fellow guard about something else. "Quickly," he added under his breath. "And quietly, please. It's bad." Then he turned and followed Theo into the shop.
He hated these places — stuffy with perfume, hung thick with frilly shit and lace and all manner of things that were best left hidden beneath clothes on women's undergarments. He was certain Theo would hate it, too, if he weren't preoccupied with the blinding pain of a broken bone. Fletch couldn't help but pace and fidget and tap his foot as his anxiety took a firm hold of him. He'd really fucked up. He should never have broken like that on the training grounds. It was unconscionable to direct any of this towards Theo, but he'd turned so much acid and poison and bile on the man that he'd pushed him over the edge.
He stopped pacing for as long as he could stand. Long enough to sign another message. "Tiff knows it's bad. He'll be back soon. Just hold on."
Had the circumstances been different Theo might have actually been amused by how antsy Fletcher was. His bodyguard had always come off so confident and go with the flow that seeing such anxiety over such a small injury was almost endearing. Having seen the scars, Theodore could only imagine what worse treatment the other man had survived and didn't at all feel the fussing was necessary.
Pretty boys like him always turned out fine. A little pain was the least he could quietly suffer given how much worse others regularly endured. He was sure if he complained he'd just be made fun of for the fact his precious piano was at risk of losing a player or that his penmanship would no longer be as graceful as it once was. Poor pretty boy. Look how he feels so sorry for himself.
No he deserved this. This was for losing his temper. This was for hurting his friend. This was for being such a constant spoiled brat, for lacking compassion, patience, and understanding. He'd forgotten his place. Of course Fletcher wouldn't trust him after he'd kissed him in public, after he got his job threatened, after he ruined everything while swearing with an ego the size of a watermelon that it would be fine, he'd handle it, he knew what he was doing.
Theo grunted as another pin stabbed into his ribs. The women were all smiles and laughter in direct contrast to the anxious, concerned Fletcher. The nobleman for his part nodded his slightly in understanding, doing his best to offer a small half-smile. He was fine. He'd be fine. No need for his friend to worry more about his job or person. It wasn't Fletcher's fault after all. Theo was the one with petulant overgrown child temper tantrums.
Blessedly the healer arrived not much later. He was an older man known for his no-nonsense attitude but gentle hands and competent care. He was also a skilled mage.
"Ladies please. I clearly have a patient here. Can't this wait?"
"There are too many pins that need placing. We cannot stop now! Work around us!"
Theo offered the man an apologetic look while doing his best to hold his hand out still and straight for him. His bit his lip and whimpered as it was palpated, eyes shut against the pain or perhaps out of fear of seeing Fletcher's expression.
The cry however seemed to finally catch the Baroness's attention who immediately went from a fashion crazed mother to a suddenly concerned and sympathetic one. "Oh my baby my baby," she cried trying to touch his face and offer comfort. "What's wrong with him?!"
"Definitely broken," the healer murmured softly. "This could have gone seriously awry young man. You should have sent for me sooner."
"I apologize," Theo replied readily. "I knew how important this appointment was and did not dare keep these lovely ladies waiting. I will be more mindful in the future." The way he spoke came so easily as if he had been made to apologize for existing his entire life.
"Now then there are three methods of which I can repair this—"
"Oh by any means necessary! My Teddy Bear is a pianist. He must be able to use his hands by the upcoming debutante ball to entertain his sweetheart the Lady Obower. Have you met her? She's such a delightful lady isn't she?"
"As I was saying, the bones are pretty set sir but they risk falling out of place as you attempt to use the hand while it is healing. We can simply bandage the hand and allow nature to take its course. It would be very slow however—"
"That isn't an option. Next. I only want the best. Cost isn't a problem. We need this done quickly!"
Theo swayed slightly where he stood, his vision going a bit fuzzy as his mother continued to keep interrupting the healer. "Perhaps Mother we could let Mr. Stoney finish his assessment," he whispered. His stomach turned again and he wondered if he was ill right here how long he'd survive afterwards for causing such offenses.
"Are you well, Honorable Lord Archer?" The healer placed a hand on Theo's shoulder while trying to peer into the man's eyes.
"I will be fine under your care, thank you."
The older man, ignoring the Baroness's prattling, squinted his eyes before reaching into his bag and unwrapping a small candy. "This will settle your stomach sir. Just don't chew it." He continued as Theo popped the ginger and honey pastille in his mouth with a slight grimace at the taste.
"As I was saying the fastest option is to cast a healing spell however they have a tendency when it comes to hand and arm bones to be rather volatile on rare occasions or to heal improperly. My recommendation is a hybridization of magic and nature. If I use magic I can splint and hold the bones in place while allowing the body to do what it needs to. However, it will be much more painful but will also heal much faster and in theory correctly. I can prescribe mandragora for the pain but it will mean you will be confined to bed until it heals as the effects are quite strong."
Theo was already in the process of nodding his head to accept the more painful option when his mother started off asking after the speed of healing and if he'd be able to play piano. His vision blurred again, the edges turning black as swayed again, completely unsure if he'd manage to catch himself before he fell off the pedestal.
Every passing second wore his patience dangerously thin. Standing by and watching and doing nothing felt so wrong. So slimy. Like he himself had made a deal with the devils, and not Theo. Every word out of the woman's mouth bent the subject back towards her needs, her wishes, as though Theo's agony was a minor inconvenience to be negotiated past. The tailors wouldn't even give him room to fucking breathe until it was finally advantageous for the Baroness to make a performance out of fussing over her son. Watching it all reignited that overwhelming impulse to just grab Theo and make a break for it and never look back.
But he couldn't keep causing damage. He couldn't be reckless. All he could do was stand there and dig his nails into his palms as the veins popped angrily in his neck and forehead. That was, until Theo began to sway. Fletcher's eye narrowed. He started forward, hesitated, stopped, then started forward again. "I think he needs air, Ma'am," he interjected. "Ma'am. He needs — he's going to — "
But of course, in all the fuss and hubbub no one listened. "Oh, for fuck's sake," he murmured as he pushed past one of the tailors just in time to catch Theo and hold him steady. He rounded on the Baroness. It took every last ounce of self-control that he had to keep his voice even. "Ma'am. Respectfully: if this keeps up, he won't make it to the ball at all. He needs healing first."
Theo was out before he even hit Fletcher's arms. His head lulled in unconsciousness into the other man's neck as he was carried to a sofa to lay on. The garments were quickly removed and the healer made quick work of getting a direct answer from the Baroness. At least with Theodore passed out, the most painful part of initiating the magical splinting and healing would not be something he remembered. Baroness Archer of course was losing her mind in concerned hysterics as the other ladies worked to console.
Even unconscious though, the nobleman made a pained groan of pain as the healer worked as quickly and efficiently as he could. Theo's hand glowed blue then purple and finally settled on green before the magic sunk within his skin. Healer Stoney then wrapped the man's hand in bandaging and turned to address Fletcher with Theodore's care. I will be giving him some mandragora with will help with the pain but will also act as a sedative for him. He will likely be very tired and very out of it. Don't be surprised if he experiences some hallucinations or acts out of character. However, if he does start vomiting, discontinue use entirely. It should fully heal in two to three weeks but if he is still experiencing problems, have me sent for. For the first week though see that he is taking the mandragora every quarter of the day without fail. After that point only as needed and by the later weeks he can switch to willow bark tea to manage the more minor pains. Questions?"
Fletch was reluctant to leave him like that: splayed out and fainted on the couch, white as a sheet and cold to the touch. But he knew better than to get between healer and patient. And he also knew better than to expose just how much he cared for the man by refusing to leave his side. He backed away, allowing the healer some space to move in and work his magic. When it was finally said and done, he was surprised to find that the man addressed, not the Baroness, but him.
Fletcher listened carefully to every word, and when he'd received his instructions, he lowered his voice and turned his back and hoped that the Baroness couldn't hear him. "She's going to ask when he can play the piano again...regardless of the pain. What do I tell her?"
"Not until I remove the bandaging in two to three weeks time and then only scales and minor stretching. If he feels pain he is to stop and not push through. Poor lad, he does seem to be the stubborn type. Let me tend to her ladyship," the healer replied, rolling his eyes with a deeply aggravated sigh. "See to it he's brought home at once. Boy needs his rest. I can trust you with his medicine then?" A bag was held out to Fletcher to take as the man gave him a very stern and pointed look.
Fletch breathed a palpable sigh of relief. "Thank you," he murmured. "It's the last thing he needs after this." He took the bag and stowed it safely in his coat pocket. A quiet laugh hissed through his nose. At the end of the day, these people of medicine: they were all the same. Every last one. "I was married to a healer. I know the drill," he assured the man. "And...thank you again."
He turned away from the healer and took a deep breath, bracing himself for the worst, before addressing the Baroness. He left no room for argument. "Ma'am. The healer insists that Th — that Master Theodore rests at home. As I'm in charge of his safety, I have to agree with him. I'll alert Bartrand to ready the carriage."
The healer raised his brows, a brief look of amusement passing his features at the knowledge before nodding his head. Theodore would be in excellent care then. The Baroness for her part however waved Fletcher off, commanding him to do what was best while she tried to sort out the payments and clothes and healer all in one go.
Theo on the other hand started to come in and out of consciousness while Fletcher was absent getting the carriage together. In fact the entire getting into the carriage, getting home, and getting into bed were a blur of lights and faces and dizzying movement. His hand still throbbed and ached something fierce. "It hurts," he groaned, finally admitting to his pain while trying to sit up in bed. "Did...is the outfit ok?"
There was, at last, something he could do to feel useful. He hated the circumstances for it, mind, but all the fire in his nerves and that pit in his stomach had to go somewhere, and now there was something to direct it towards. He gave Theo the full seat in the carriage so that the man could lay down, opting to hang off the side like a highwayman — much to the chagrin and constant complaint of the Baroness. By the time they'd reached the manor, he and Tiff had worked out a suitable shift in the guard rotation so that Theo's medication could be administered as ordered. The man helped haul Theo gently up the stairs and lay him in bed before heading off to relay the news to Ash and Niles. Neish helped Fletcher get the bedside table set up with water and tea and scones and some honey to take with his medicine.
And she left, too, and it was quiet. For two more hours it remained that way — Theo resting, Fletcher sitting and pacing and sitting again. Finally, he dragged a chair next to the bed and slumped down into it and stared off at the far wall. His mind continued to race, and every time he looked at Theo and Theo's hand, the weight became more pronounced. Those thoughts bubbled to the surface again: how he'd caused this. How, in his overconfidence, he'd thought that surely he could fix it all if he only stayed and tried hard enough. How in staying, he'd started to become the very man that he opposed: both Theo's father, and his own.
It all pointed to one conclusion. And it was one that he had avoided at all costs, because truthfully, he didn't want to leave anymore — not out of some sense of duty to Theo or the dog, but because he'd lose a friend. Or...whatever they were anymore. But if he wanted to do the least harm, he might have to break that very promise he'd sworn to keep. And he should do it soon, too, before mid-winter. To keep Theo from seeing where he went at his very lowest.
Theo shifted and groaned, jolting Fletcher from his thoughts. He stood abruptly without a word and began to measure out the mandragora into a small glass of honeyed tea on the bedside table. "Here," he muttered. "Drink this."
Theo recoiled his head back from the drink as he attempted to reach for it with his injured right hand. He was still so foggy from passing out and the pain, that it took several reaching attempts to figure out that he couldn't use that hand and that was the reason why Fletcher was playing keep away with the cup. Finally, he managed to accept it with his left hand although he immediately placed it in his lap instead of drinking from it.
"What happened? Why am I...home? Yes, home. How much trouble am I in?"
Satisfied that Theo wouldn't spill the medicine all over himself, Fletch stepped away to stand awkwardly over him. He lasted all of two seconds like that before finding a spot at the foot of the bed and sitting there instead. "None," he replied. "By any measure that counts, anyways. The healer made sure your mum took it seriously. If she tries to pretend she didn't hear him, I'm sending for him again and again until she shuts her damned mouth."
He laughed softly and smiled what must have been his first genuine smile at Theo in weeks. "I think I've about had it with her," he continued. "And I suppose that means you'll get some entertainment if she starts her shit back up. Something to look forward to, ey?"
Fletcher motioned with his head towards the unconsumed medicine. "Drink it, please. It's for the pain."
Fletcher smiled at him and Theo burst into tears. The weight of the months of their deteriorating friendship that had resulted in his disgusting, violent, on cruel outburst on the training grounds followed by his own guilt-filled pity party and broken hand slammed into him all at once. Oh how he had missed that smile, had missed his friend and their bond. To have it now when he deserved it the least just made him cry harder. His medicine was precariously abandoned so he could bury his face in his hands while sobbed all the harder.
"I don't deserve it...or you. I have been so awful to you and I'm so sorry. I'm a terrible friend."
His face fell like a stone. He was sure that hand hurt like hell, but he hadn't been expecting it to bring Theo to tears like this. The medicine jerked and splashed with every sob and threatened to tip over altogether. Fletch stood and strode to retrieve it, setting it gently back on the bedside table. He'd just turned to return to where he'd been sitting when Theo spoke.
The weight of it could have crushed him. His lips parted but no argument emerged, and for a moment, all he could do was watch on in horror as the damage he'd done came pouring out. If there was ever a sign that he was poison to this place, this was it. He made his way slowly back to the chair he'd dragged up next to the head of the bed and slumped back into it.
"Theo. No."
He rubbed his face, trying desperately to come to grips with how much he'd hurt the man he'd tried to keep safe. He didn't know where to even begin to fix it in this moment, so he waited, patiently and silently, for the man to finish.
Without being able to see through his tears and hands, Theo completely missed Fletcher's protests and so continued to sob and apologize without interruption. "First there was the..." he quieted as he signed the word for 'kiss' before continuing, "and then you got in trouble when I promised you everything would be okay and it wasn't and I was too cocky and let my ego get in the way. Everything's been falling apart and it's all my fault. I thought if I just gave you space it would be okay but I should have just apologized sooner. And I'm so, so sorry. I've ruined everything. And I said such horrible things to you. I called you the worst names. I've never even used those words out loud before and I was so mad and I took it out on you. And then I went and had another pathetic pity party," he spat the words flailing his right hand up into the air only to whimper-groan at the pain and bring both hands back into his lap.
Sniffling and with red, teary eyes Theodore finally looked up at his friend and met his gaze. "This is not how friends behave. I am so," the breath caught in his lungs making his words shutter and shake, "so sorry. For my actions. My words. Everything."
His jaw worked like a fish before he closed it and let the man finish. At the mention of Theo kissing him, he cocked his head and frowned — he'd quite honestly forgotten all about that, but clearly Theo hadn't. Every other thing he said echoed his own thoughts, and by the time his friend had finished, Fletcher had leaned forward and now peered at the man intently.
"Theo," he grunted. "Is that really what..."
He sighed, groaned, and rubbed his face. "Shit," he muttered into his hands before dropping them to his lap. Behind them, his face had fallen into that haggard look that aged him a decade beyond his years. "Is that what you thought this was about?" he asked. His eye flitted anxiously to the door, then back again. He tried to find some way to explain, but the thing he wanted most to say aloud kept getting stuck on his tongue. "I'm the one who should be sorry," he rasped. "I wanted to fix this. All I did was tighten the leash. And the Baron, I — "
He paused. Swallowed. His eye went wide as he fell back into memory for a moment before pulling himself together again. "Can you trust me when I say that it's not you? That it's nothing that you've done? That it's...him?"
He stared intensely at the other man, his face a mask of guilt and sorrow that turned into compassion. Theo wanted nothing more than to ask if he could hug the other man, to seek comfort as much as to provide it, but he knew better. It had ended so poorly last time. Just as today had gone so terribly because of him.
"...will you forgive me then? Just as I forgive you? I...I want my friend back and I don't even think I deserve that, but I am selfish and spoiled and I want that Jack. The leash means nothing unless I'm alone. The changes," he sighed and looked to the side some and shrugged before continuing, "I hardly notice them. They come, they go. It has been like this in varying ways my whole life. But, I can see how that is entrapping for you."
Theo licked his lips and picked at his bandaging as he hesitated anxiously. "Will you tell me now what he said to you that upset you this deeply? If it was about me, I assure you it was nothing I have not already heard before," the nobleman added with a very calm and resigned expression.
Fletch blinked rapidly, taken aback by the fact that his friend still blamed himself. "There's nothing to forgive. We were drunk and you were...in the moment. It happens, and truthfully I forgot you even did it. And today, I was an ass. I was awful. You called me as much. If you'd broken my nose over it, I'd consider it fair payment."
The rest caught up with him: a knife to the chest from which guilt spilled forth. The leash means nothing unless I'm alone. He averted his eye. Theo didn't understand. He didn't know. It was still for the best if Fletcher left before this place undid what little good he'd built around himself and drew forth that selfish, harsh, and blackened core. He owed Theo an explanation, it was true. But he wouldn't say it now. They'd talk about it later. Even if that subject pained him just as much as the topic at hand.
"I..." He stared down at his hands and picked at his cuticle as he tried once more to focus. His thoughts slid around it again. "Fuck," he muttered. He returned his gaze to Theo, though his head was still hung like a guilty dog's. "I know I owe it to you after how I've been. Believe me. But that's a thing I need to loosen with whiskey."
That gave him a thought, and Fletcher cocked his head. His smile returned, albeit a tired one. "Have a drink with me some night after my shift's done. Maybe I can tell you about it then."
Theo looked embarrassed but nodded along. "Aye, that I can do, although you owe me nothing...not even your friendship."
He sighed and leaned back against the headboard some looking utterly exhausted beyond belief. "It's good to see you smile again though." Theo gave a half smile back in return. "I missed it."
"Erm." Fletcher's smile turned strange, like he couldn't quite comprehend what he'd just heard. "...did you?" He blinked rapidly again and then stared at Theo as though it was the first time he'd truly seen him. Like he was putting pieces together again. "Huh," he grunted at last. "S'pose looking's free."
He shrugged and stood, rather unbothered considering the conclusion he'd just spoken aloud, and went to retrieve the medicine. He held it out to Theo again, brows raised in a mock warning. "Right. I think you've avoided this long enough. You know Ven was a healer, yeah? So you know I was stuck with one for over ten bloody years. So I know some tricks to getting medicine down a gullet. Don't make me use them."
"Mhmm," he hummed back, not at all catching on how it sounded. Theo raised a brow back at Fletcher's declaration while eyeing his movements. The return of the teacup though caused a slight grimace and another sigh.
"He got sick often too then? I've heard healers are always bad about taking medicine." Theo attempted a half smile but gave up as he continued to refuse the cup and instead stared at it in contemplation. "What's in it?"
"Mm." Fletcher's expression darkened, though a trace of the smile remained. "No. He was a little too good at taking medicine, actually," he replied. Some part of him left again, and the dead-eyed man who remained by the bed held that medicine out as though he'd become a statue. Then he breathed in deeply and came to again and squinted at the glass. "Mandrag — mandra-something. Healer said it was for pain. I'm supposed to give it to you every eight hours. So you and I are going to be spending quite a bit of time together, I think. Now. You going to make this easy, or am I doing it the hard way?"
"Mandragora," he corrected with a deep scowl. "You can put it down, Mr. Daw. It won't be necessary."
'I don't deserve it.'
His words may have come off calm and clear but his left hand still picked anxiously at his bandaging, causing the edges to fray. Theo's thoughts still oozed with self-disgust and a desire to punish himself for his perceived misdeeds.
'Besides,' he reckoned to himself, 'what's the worst Jack can do to me? I broke bones punching a tub after months learning how to throw a proper one. I'm clearly too fragile to be manhandled and too exhausted to give chase. He's bluffing.'
Fletcher grunted. After a moment's consideration, he spoke up. "Mm. Yep. He said you might do this. The stubborn bit." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then tilted his head a bit as if to say, 'Well, I warned you.' He set the medicine aside again and made his way around the bed to the door, hesitated in front of it for a moment, then locked it. As he returned, he removed his coat and laid it carefully over the chair he'd pulled up. He retrieved the medicine and turned back to Theo.
"Last chance. It's going down the hatch one way or another, Theo. I'll not see you screaming yourself hoarse over this hand when it really starts to get bad."
His brows did their best attempt at becoming one with his hairline at Fletcher locking the door and taking off his coat. It seemed all very dramatic of the man in Theo's mind. Yet, still he held his ground. He was not going to drink the medicine. You could not pay him enough to do so.
Sighing, Theodore rested further back against the headboard and eyed Fletcher through drooping eyes. "You can say you put up the good fight and be done with it now, Jack. Pour it into a plant or off the balcony but I'm not drinking that," 'ever again.'
"It's nothing to do with who thinks I've been a good little nurse," he muttered, looking slightly affronted. "It's to do with you." He sat down on the edge of the bed next to Theo and cast one last resigned glance. Then he grasped the man's face by the cheeks, split his lips open, poured the shot in, and held a hand over his nose and mouth. He quickly set the glass aside, then scooped up the back of Theo's head and held him tilted further upright so he wouldn't choke. Every motion in the act was gentle, and by his expression it was plain that he didn't like doing this to a friend. But neither did he give any indication that he'd relent until Theo swallowed the medicine.
One moment Fletcher was sitting down on the bed and Theo thought he had given up and the next his hands were all over him and the cold, bitter tea was in his mouth. The closing of his airway was completely unnecessary as the nobleman immediately swallowed without any fight or protest. Overall, Theo had remained completely docile in his bodyguard's grasp as if completely trusting the other man.
His eyes however did widen massively in surprise even as his cheeks flushed. Due to unfortunate experience with being forced to take his medicine, Theo would have to say that Fletcher's approach was certainly the most gentle and caring attempt he had ever experienced and he wasn't entirely sure how to feel about that. The hand at the back of his head wasn't helping matters either.
He placed a gentle hand on Fletcher's wrist, his fingers resting lightly and his thumb barely brushing the man's pulse as he nodded his head to indicate it was done already. "Well that was...cold and gross. Thank you...for taking care of me."
He nodded and uncovered Theo's nose and mouth, lowering the man's head back onto the pillow. He was genuinely surprised that he hadn't gotten kicked, hit, or bitten for what he'd just done — though he made that strange face again at Theo's flushed cheeks. "Thank you?" he chuckled. "What — as in, 'thank you sir, may I have another?'" He slid from the bed and made straight for the door to unlock it again before settling once more into the chair and crossing a boot over one knee. "I wasn't joking. You live with a healer for that long, you learn what to do with the stubborn ones. Especially when the healer is the stubbornest of them all."
"No!" Theo scowled darkly at the question. "Just...," he grunted, flustered and unsure how to explain all the things he was feeling. That gentle hands had felt almost intimate for the touch-starved man and that had it not been medicine poured down his throat, Theodore might have considered he was about to be kissed. He flushed deeper at the thought and fussed with the covers, trying to get them settled over him with only one hand.
"Just that could have been very violent and you weren't and...you cared enough to see it done. Others give up easier because not worth it to them."
As Fletcher returned he looked to him and nearly missed what the man was saying as he was too busy noticing how his bodyguard had resumed the seated posture he took when he was feeling comfortable as opposed to the stiffness that had seemed to harden the man with the oncoming winter's chill.
"Mm, but you said he was good about taking his medicine. Or do you mean he could out-stubborn his patients?"
Fletcher raised his chin and squinted down his nose as he tried to read between the lines. "Are you telling me that someone hurt you before?" he asked. His voice was dead calm, but there was a danger to the way he'd said it. It was the same way he talked about men who got too close to Neish. After a while, he appeared to let it go, but the thought tempered his smile. "I suppose I would have done, once. We're both lucky you didn't know me in my younger years. I was a vicious little prick. As for Ven..."
He trailed off and averted his gaze. That was also something he owed to Theo. The closer mid-winter came, the more frightened he was of what it would do to him, and of what he'd do to others. Theo deserved to understand. But... "It was a joke in poor taste," he muttered. "And if I've got to have a drink in me to talk about...your dad...this is a thing I'd need the full bottle for. So maybe some other time, Theo. Yeah?"
He returned his attention to his friend. "Shouldn't you be resting?"
Theo gave him such an unimpressed look. "I could not be more reclined than I currently am, but you are welcome to try." Sinking further into the pillows he sighed and considered what he had been told. It was easy of course to accept that Ven was not a welcome topic as much as his own father was not one. But, had he been hurt before? There was such an intensity in Fletcher's gaze as if the man was a hunter ready for the kill.
"I was a very sickly child. At some point the pain...you'd rather drown in it than the medicine. I have always hated how numb it makes me feel. And this one," he nodded towards the tea setup, "I am very familiar of its effects. You could say there was once a time when I had a spine and would fight you tooth and nail to keep from taking my medicine." Theo smiled slightly in memory. "I admit I had not expected such results from refusing to take it as an adult though."
The weight of Ven's memory lifted just as soon as it had settled in between them. On the contrary: Fletcher had never known anyone to refuse numbness for pain, and he included himself readily in that sentiment. It took a kind of strength that he'd never possessed in all his years, yet Theo did. And that, he...admired.
He cleared his throat. "Thought I was going to get bit, honestly," he agreed. "But...I was given orders and I intend to follow them. He seems like a decent man, your healer. He gave you this stuff for a reason: it'll hurt worse before it gets better. And I — "
He stopped himself. Frowned. Sighed and shook his head. He kept running into new threads of this web. How impossible it seemed, now, to extricate himself for Theo's sake. "Seems you've made a loyal dog of me, sir. You've got me talking like I've gone soft in my old age," he snorted before continuing on. "I'm sorry to have forced it down you, but I'll not see you in that kind of pain. So this is happening every eight hours, whether you refuse it or not."
He tilted his head some as Fletcher paused and then smiled tiredly as he continued. "I'd say you're talking like a friend. At least it's eight hours and not six though. I might actually have lucid moments if only three times a day. What a blessing."
Theo rubbed at his face tiredly, blinking slower as they talked. "I am sorry though you had to see me in pain. I don't mean to make you...uncomfortable? Upset."
"Neither," Fletch said — and it was true from his perspective. Back at the tailor, he hadn't been uncomfortable with the idea of pain. He'd been horrified at himself for being the one to cause it. And maybe that was still what drove him to do all of this — that and his guilt at the thought of leaving.
He sighed and picked at his fingers again. Unbeknownst to him, his leg began to bounce. How would he even broach that subject? He was sure Theo would think he was a bastard for it. And Neish...she wouldn't understand at all, would she? How had he let himself get so comfortable here — so content to come in and find family in these people and then blow it all up?
But now wasn't the time for it. He could have his pity party later when his friend was asleep. He glanced back up at Theo. "How's it feeling?"
Fletcher was anxious about something but for the life of him Theo could not figure out what about or if he was the cause. There was a silence between them as the man blinked slowly several times. His thoughts felt like wooden blocks being dragged through mud and weeds.
"I am become slug," he declared, closing his eyes. A soft gasp and widening of his eyes had them quickly snapping back open. "Do I look like one too? I can't be a slug, Mother would not like that."
Fletch did his very best not to laugh at the sudden onset of hallucinations. "No, no, you had the right idea before. Close your eyes. You don't look like a slug, Theo. You're still pretty. Just get some rest." He got to his feet and stood over the bedside table, making certain that he'd procured everything the man needed. "You want anything, I can have Neish fetch it. I'll be in the corner. Just shout." Then he dragged the chair back next to the window, flopped down in it, and settled in.
Theo fought the exhaustion coming over him and made a soft sound of protest. He tried to fight to push the covers off himself but everything felt like he was fighting through the mud now as it threatened to suck him under.
"I can't see your lips if you're over there," he complained, wishing he could follow but unable to do more than give a weak dying fish flail before giving up. Theo let his head fall back more against the pillow and stared up at the swirling patterns on the ceiling. His head turned from time to time to stare at something else for long periods of time before turning back to focus on something else.
Suddenly though he sat up with some effort and looked towards the door. "What was that sound? Did you hear that?"
It grew quiet for a moment. He thought that at last, Theo might have fallen asleep. In an effort to while away the hours and entertain himself, he'd gotten up and dug through the bookcase, searching for anything that wasn't some dry academic wank show about history or anthropology or...whatever. These were the kinds of books he'd learned to expect nobles to display when they wanted others to know just how well-learned they were. He pulled one likely candidate out — one with a little silver stamp of a tall ship on the spine. But no, it was in their language and not his. He was about to return it when he noticed a pile of books stacked behind the upright ones. He tutted and shifted more books around until he could successfully draw the hidden ones forward. "Secret stash? Really?" he chuckled. His grin widened further as he looked through them before selecting a particularly promising one — some absurd, racey bodice ripper from the looks of it. "Ohoooo, Theo. That's more like it."
Carefully, he replaced everything but the one he'd borrowed and settled back into his chair. He'd just started paging through it when Theo spoke up. "No, Theo, there's nobody at the — "
It caught up to him mid-sentence. He clapped the book shut and leaned it against the arm of the chair and stood. "Right. This is going to be a long week, isn't it?" he said to nobody before dragging the same chair back over to the bed. He dropped back into it and crossed his legs as he'd done before, then lifted his entertainment and found where he'd left off. "There's nobody there, Theo. Go back to sleep."
His head swiveled to look at Fletcher and read his lips. The answer however forced him to deflate and resettle back into bed looking utterly gutted. "Right. Of course there isn't. How could I hear anything? I'm deaf." He shook his head in disgust and rolled onto his side to watch Fletcher. "I didn't know you liked to read. You're blocking my mirror," Theo abruptly stated. "I use it to see the door open behind me except all I see is a lot of Jack Daw....Jack...Daw. Jackdaw. Your parents have a really cruel sense of humor, huh?"
He glanced up from the book again, equal parts worried and amused. "So sorry, Master Theodore, sir," he replied dryly. But he shut the book a second time and dragged the chair again so that Theo had a clear line of sight to the mirror. He fell back into it. "Can't have me blocking the bloody view, can we?" he grumbled before returning to the book. This time, though, he didn't open it — only stared down at the cover, lost in thought.
"That one was Ven," he replied at last. "Jackdaw. ...Nightjar. Dunno why he went with birds. Stupid, really. But it put good distance between me and the past, so I've kept it. Better than hearing my dad's name every damned day. Now. You going to let me read this, or...?"
"Thank you. It...it makes me feel safe." Theo blinked. "Not that you being here makes me feel unsafe but...I really hate how easy it is to come up behind me. Or how easy it is for someone to be standing over me when I sleep. I slept in a dresser drawer for months before Father had them all taken away until I regularly slept in my bed."
Theodore quieted and watched Fletcher talk. He chose not to push the names topic but hoped when this was all over he'd remember enough to ask again later. Maybe he should rename himself to something he wanted instead of his father's name or his husband's name. A name all of his own and his own choosing. "Or I could give him a name," he unintentionally spoke aloud before dissolving into giggles.
He waved his hand at Fletcher to signal the mane could read in peace. And for several moments there was comfortable silence. But, just as Fletcher was likely starting to settle into what he was reading Theo piped up again. "So what're you reading?"
Fletcher's face fell. He was no stranger to it: the way one hid in order to sleep safely. In closets, or under beds, with your back against the wall and your eyes to the door. "'Course he fucking did," he murmured. "They get off to fear, don't they?" He seethed there quietly for a while as Theo fell still. But it seemed that that quiet wouldn't last long at all while the man was on his medicine, for he spoke up again.
"You'll give me a name? It's only fair. I gave you one. Erm...oh. This? Some really good shit, Theo. I've got to hand it to you. I thought you weren't the type. Nice to know you've got good taste in literature."
Fletcher flipped open the book and cleared his throat — though he lowered his voice considerably as he began to read the blurb. "Set sail on a tantalizing tale of forbidden romance. Join Captain Mateo and his enigmatic cabin boy, Gabriel, as they navigate a stormy sea of passion and revenge. Will their love conquer all, or will the lure of hidden booty tear them apart in 'Rogue Hearts'?"
At the word 'booty', he began to snicker, but the look he gave Theo was one of pure joy. "Can I borrow this? Looks like you've read it enough by how beaten up the pages are."
He blinked slow and curiously at Fletcher before the dramatic synopsis reading suddenly started to register in his brain. With a dramatic gasp and surprising speed given his medicated state, Theo launched himself out of bed and at the other man. He fell in a heap at Fletcher's feet but that hardly stopped him from using his good hand and opposite elbow to claw, drag, and yank himself up into his bodyguard's lap without a second thought to the impropriety of the matter.
Straddling Fletcher's lap and doing his best to balance and extend his lean body against the other man's chest, he desperately attempted to reach and grapple for the book. The effort to crawl into his lap however seemed to have taken most of the fight and energy out of Theo though. He slumped against the other man's chest and loosed the softest, saddest, and most drawn out little 'noooo,' as he gave up.
Of all the books the man had to find why did it have to be that one? Of course the pages were worn. It truly was one of Theodore's favorite books. He loved the adventure on the high seas, the slow-building romance, the dark past and horrors that the men loved each other in spite of, and the declaration of love at the end while unconventional always made his heart sing with longing. It was the graphic drawings throughout the book however that had Theo the most panicked. Fletcher couldn't see that! That would be the end of life as Theo knew it! How embarrassing!
Fletcher's smile dropped as soon as Theo leapt out of bed. "Whoa, hey, alright, I'll put it down — " He propped the book against the side of the chair again and made to stand, but Theo was — somehow — quicker, and before he knew it the nobleman was crawling his way into his lap to straddle him like a whore. "Theo. Theo. Theo, no — "
He shot a nervous glance at the door, wishing he'd kept it locked, and attempted to pry the nobleman off of him, but the man just slumped further into his arms. Fletch let out an exasperated sigh and a string of curses, briefly falling limp in defeat before doing what he knew he had to in order to get Theo back to bed. "I'm sorry. Alright? Let it be known. Not my idea," he mumbled to nobody. "I'm a proper fucking gentleman, Theo. Wasn't my bloody idea."
Fletch wedged his hands backwards beneath the man's thighs, rocked a few times for momentum, and lifted them both from the chair. "What in the fuck are they feeding you?" he wheezed as he staggered forward and lowered Theo back down onto the bed. He swung the man's legs back up from the floor and then stepped back, winded and annoyed. "Do I need to tie you down?" he asked.
He grumbled softly some at being lifted but just wrapped his arms around Fletcher to cling more securely as he was carried back to bed like a small child rather than a grown man in his mid-late 30's. It was a blessing the medication made him so loopy as he likely would have protested mightily and been wholly embarrassed over his inappropriate displays. Instead though he simply nuzzled in closer and allowed himself to be redirected and tucked back into bed.
"Are you calling me fat? You touched my bu--rear...butt-rear." Theo snorted and then giggled at his snort while squirming about in the bed to lay on his side facing Fletcher again, his hands tucked up by his chin like a perfect little angel. "That's not until chapter seven. No reading ahead." He yawned and nuzzled into the pillow, his eyes drooping closed. "You're going to hate me so much when this is all over. But, at least I can pretend I have my friend back for now...I'm sorry."
"Not like that," Fletch clarified, but he didn't seem particularly concerned that Theo had misunderstood him. He fell back into the chair for the thousandth time, rested his forehead in his hand, and rubbed at his face. There was no sense in arguing with a man so far gone on a deliriant, nor with one who couldn't hear what he had to say. Nevertheless, he said it, if only to himself: "You never lost him."
The days passed more or less the same: a blur of slow boredom punctuated by feverish conversations. Fletch took up the task of administering the medicine every quarter day, though his fellow bodyguards relieved him in between so he could rest. Oftentimes, though, he refused to return to his quarters, and several times he fell asleep in that chair with the book against his chest. He'd been smart to select men for the rotation who were lenient to this sort of behavior. None of them said a damned word to the Baron — at least, that he could tell. None of them commented on the nature of the book, either, though Ash snickered when he caught sight of one of the drawings.
On one such night, when the other men had long since gone to bed at his insistence, Fletch lay slumped in the chair, arms hung limp and head lolled to one side. He'd made the mistake of having a nightcap, and in the deafening silence of Theo's room, he'd nodded off. He thought he dreamed it: the tick-tack-tick-tack of claws on the wooden floor, accompanied by a soft sniff and a girl's giggle. Theo's bed shifted and groaned as though it carried some other weight, and his blankets rustled. "Is it time yet?" Fletch murmured in his sleep, unaware that Theo's room was now host to two unbidden occupants.
The passage of time was impossible for Theodore to differentiate. He woke, he was forced into taking meds, sometimes he ate, sometimes he bathed and cared for himself, mostly he slept. Yet, without fail Fletcher was there every time he woke regardless of the time of day or night. He was there for the slap happy, comedic delirium as much as he was for the far more terrifying moments where Theo hallucinated sounds and faces of people and things that were not present. Where memories and reality bled into one and he found himself drowning in the sea of guilt and regret.
Something cold and wet pressed in against his neck as he slept, startling him awake as he was snuffled and attempted to shrink more under the covers. "Jaaack," he whined in protest. "Heeeelp. Invisible monster licking meeee."
Unbeknownst to Theo, behind him on the bed Aya was trying to dig and paw him out from the covers while Aneisha giggled more at the dog's antics from her spot sitting on the bed. "Aya be good," she whispered at the dog trying to keep her from pawing at the nobleman more but utterly failing in her efforts.
Someone called for Jack. "The fuck is Jack?" he murmured, shifting in his chair and wincing at his stiff neck. "Mmh. Go back to sleep, Theo," he added out of habit. "It's not real. Just go to sleep." But the noises continued, and more and more it became clear that he hadn't hallucinated at all. Someone was in the room with them.
Fletcher's eye snapped open and he squinted, desperate to make sense of every blurred figure that moved in the dark. Then Neish spoke, and she said Aya's name, and it clicked. "Neish!" he admonished her as he shot to his feet. The book tumbled from his lap to the floor and fell open. He stepped over it, nudging it shut with his boot before hurrying to the door. "Not in the damned house. Fuck, woman, you'll lose us both our jobs."
Slowly, he cracked the door open and peered out into the hallway. There was Ash where he'd left him, looking distinctly like he was desperate not to crack a grin. "You in on this?" Fletch hissed. The guard turned slowly with a feigned look of confusion, dark eyes twinkling roguishly. "In on what?" he asked. He took a bite of the sticky bun that Aneisha had clearly bribed him with. Fletcher scowled and pointed a stern finger. "I'm locking the door. Nobody comes in here. Make something up if you have to. You sneaky shit," he added, then shut it behind him and turned the lock firmly before rounding on Neish.
"She's got to go, Neish. She can't be in here. Aya. Leave him alone." He strode to the bed and wrapped his arms around the massive dog, trying in vain to pull her off of Theo. "Run to my room and grab a pasty off the dresser, would you? She won't listen."
"Just give us five more minutes. She really wanted to see Teddy, I could tell and look how happy she is now!"
Theodore groaned and rolled onto his back as all the movement woke him up further. One of Aya's big paws smacked into his injured hand and he made a strangled cry of pain that had the dog stopping immediately. Aya nuzzled and whined, licking at his face in apology before laying down beside the nobleman.
"What time--water please," he rasped, using his good hand to pet her back and head absently.
"Stubborn arses, all of you," Fletch grumbled as he released a dog who clearly could not be dragged from the bed without causing more harm to Theo. "Like children. And I wasn't built to be a parent," he added beneath his breath. He stood there panting from the effort of wrestling with Aya before scratching his brow and sighing resignedly. "Fine. Five minutes. Gives me time to help him with some water."
Fletch made for the bedside table and poured a fresh glass, then lowered himself onto the edge of the bed like he had when he first made Theo take his medicine. This time, though, there wasn't the nasty business of forcing tea down a grown man's throat. The practice of medicating him day and night, of fetching Theo food or drink and helping him out of bed, had numbed Fletch to what he had before considered untoward behavior. It was simply what needed to be done, now, and so he didn't bat an eye as he reached around Theo to hold his back and neck forward to prop the man up with a few more pillows.
He grasped Theo's left wrist and moved his hand to the glass of water, closing the man's slender fingers around it and ensuring that it wouldn't fall. "Here."
Aneisha giggled deeply, flopping back onto the bed and getting comfortable in all the luxury since she wasn't being immediately chased off. The tenderness between the two men though did not escape her curious gaze. There was caring for someone, of course but then there was the way Theo leaned towards Fletcher, the way he relied on the bodyguard's grip on the glass to aid in holding it without a second hand to do it himself, or even the way he did not look up to read the man's lips, having formed such a routine that he was unbothered by it all.
"Does this mean you two are done being Sad Sallys and sulking all the time? You've been exhausting to watch and try and cheer up."
"Does what mean that — "
Fletch shot her an annoyed look. "I don't sulk. Theo's the one who sulks. Aren't you, sir?"
He took the glass gently from Theo's hand and returned it to the table before settling back in with the book. If Neish and the dog were going to be stubborn like this, he'd just have to give them a moment to let them think they'd won. It was probably unwise of him to have the bodice ripper open around anyone but the nobleman, but he was so bored of this damned room, and so he told himself he could laugh it off as a joke if push came to shove. He glared at Neish over the top of it. "Where did you get this idea that I've been sulking? That's slander, that is."
Oblivious to the conversation happening around him, Theo settled back to lay down and rolled to bury his face in Aya's warm fur. For her part, the canine licked at his fingertips and nuzzled gently at his aching hand as if apologizing for the pain she had caused moments before.
"Oh yes, he sulks plenty. But you have had pinched face for months like you have a permanent case of sucking on lemons for survival. In other words, Smuggler Jack Sulky Face. Not slander at all. I win!" Aneisha declared seconds before yanking the pillow out from behind her head and chucking it as hard as she could at Fletcher and his book.
He grunted dismissively at Neish's claims and returned to his reading, only to scowl at the latest evidence that the author had never set sail in her life. "Bollocks," Fletcher muttered to himself, and squinted so hard that he neglected to see the pillow flying at him until it was too late. He grabbed the thing and tossed it back. "Oi! You're already on thin ice, missy. Don't make me banish you. And let him sleep. He's even worse when he's high off his mind and tired."
"You'd have to catch me first! And I've got a hellhound and your prince as my captive! I will not be banished!" Aneisha jumped to her feet, bouncing on the bed while brandishing her recovered pillow over Theo's head at Fletcher. Aya raised her head and joined in to sing the song of her people, awooing and trying to match the timber of the young woman's voice as she spoke.
Theo groaned as the scullery maid's jumping jostled him about. "Make them stop dancing on my head," he begged, grabbing his own pillow and sweeping his arm back. In his attempt to wind up and throw the pillow towards Aneisha though, all he managed to do was eject it behind him, smacking Fletcher again with a pillow for the second time that evening.
Fletch clapped the book shut. "Enough. Enough!" He kicked the pillow away and stood. He'd never cast such a severe glower at Neish in all the months he'd been here, but as he strode to clamp his hands around Aya's snout, he did so now in warning. "Stop. Stop it. It's two in the fucking morning. You've woken the both of us for a laugh. You're harassing a drugged man whose hand is broken. Now you've got the damned dog making enough racket to summon the two very people who could fire every single one of us for what you've done. What are you, five? Grow the fuck up, Aneisha. Stop making it all about you."
There was a pit in his stomach as he said it. He knew already that he'd been too harsh on her, but it was too late to take it back. With Aya quieted, he made for the door and unlocked it. "Ash. Come here," he commanded, and let his fellow guard slip in before locking the door again. "If you'd be so kind as to escort the girl back to her room. And then hurry back. I'll need your help getting this mongrel outside where she belongs." Looking rather sheepish for what he'd allowed to happen, Ashley obeyed without complaint. He gestured with his head for her to follow. "Come on, Neisha. Let's go."
Aneisha dropped to sit on the bed like a rock into the bottom of a pond. The wind had been completely stolen from her sails and she hung her head as she was royally chewed out for childish antics. What she had wanted to be a surprise and treat for Theo had turned into a disaster. The days of planning she had done to make it work were all for nothing and while it certainly seemed like Theo and Fletcher had mended whatever broken boards there were in their bridge of friendship, she had managed to rip out a few of her own.
With Ashley dragged in to assist, Aneisha slunk off the bed without a fight and trudged out of the room, her head still hanging in shame. A mumbled apology escaped her lips on her way out the door, although she wasn't even sure that Fletcher heard her with how quiet she was suddenly trying to be.
In bed, Aya had settled enough to quiet although her ears laid back on her skull in the face of Fletcher's anger. They only relaxed as she was heavily dragged down and snuggled like an overgrown stuffed toy in the arms of the exhausted and only semi-conscious nobleman. "Medicine must be wearing off," he murmured softly, his back still to Fletcher. "The room stopped bouncing and spinning."
With the two of them gone and Aya settled, it was once more quiet. Fletcher slipped through the nanny door and into his room to retrieve a pasty from his ever-present stash of nicked food. But Aya had no interest in it. In fact, he knew that look that she gave him all too well: yellow eyes boring into him in challenge. She was staying put, and if anyone tried to move her, she'd show the wolf side with a quickness.
"He's not Ven, you stupid dog," he muttered. But he knew better than to approach her when she was like this, so he settled back in again and awaited Ashley's arrival. When the man arrived, Fletch was halfway through the hand pie, book in hand again. "You want to try to move her?" Ash murmured, looking warily at the beast. Fletcher sighed and followed his gaze to one very stubborn dog. "No. No sense in it now. Maybe when she's decided she's hungry, we can bribe her out. Let's do it at the end of your watch."
"Uh huh." Ash remained where he was, wedged between the door and the frame. After a moment's silence, he spoke up again. "You made Neisha cry," he added. Before Fletcher could reply, he was gone again, and the door was shut firmly behind him.
Fletch groaned and slumped further down into the chair. Suddenly, the book held no interest at all. "Yeah," he muttered. "I know."
Hours passed and Theo slept fitfully. When he woke again it was from the burning pain of his injury informing him it was time for more medicine. Even as he sat up in bed, his hand cradled in his lap, Theo still did not ask for that which would provide him with relief. Instead he tried to breathe through it while hit tears sprung within the corners of his eyes. It felt like he had punched it again and broken it all anew. He could only guess as to what hallucinations he had imagined this time to create such a pain-filled response.
Glancing to his left, he finally noticed Aya's sprawled out and glued to his side presence. He rubbed her belly quietly, not entirely sure if she truly was there or just another hallucination. Fletcher asleep in the chair again though was hardly someone he wanted to disturb to find out such a silly thing.
The pain continued to radiate and grow but Theo kept it entirely to himself in favor of letting the poor bodyguard sleep more. The chair looked incredibly uncomfortable yet sleep softened the other man's features in a way that made Theo want to watch him a bit longer. Fletcher was handsome. The thought and realization startled the nobleman but he couldn't deny it. He had been trying for quite some time but in the early pre-dawn hours as the sun was preparing its ascent he found himself weak and longing. Long legs, strong arms, a winsome smile, scars and tattoos full of stories that Theo desired nothing more than to read with his fingertips. At least three was no harm in looking. Short of blinding him, there was nothing the Baron could do about what he didn't know was happening.
Still when movement in the mirror signaled the slow opening crack of the door, Theo dropped his gaze away and turned his body instead to catch the entrance of another of his guard. Ashley bobbed his head in greeting, looking a bit surprised to see the nobleman up as he made his way over to inform Fletcher of the guard shift. He paused though as if unsure if he should proceed and intrude or not before deciding to continue forward all the same.
Someone shook his shoulder.
"Jack."
"Hmm?"
"It's almost five."
"Hmmh. What? Shit." Fletcher straightened up, bleary-eyed and squinting. He'd fallen asleep in the chair again, and his whole body told him as much. His back was killing him. His hair was a mess again. He needed a bath in the way one does when one has worn the same clothes for a full day and night. He blinked over at Theo — and Theo's companion. "Fuck. Right. The dog."
Slowly, with the cricked neck and stiff steps of an old man, he made his way to the bed. Along the way, he retrieved his half-eaten pasty from where it had fallen to the floor. "Aya," he rasped, holding the bribe out for her to sniff. "You're done. Come on." And she did, finally and reluctantly, but not without giving Theo's broken hand one final inspection and parting kiss, as if to say, 'I'll be back.'
Fletcher was fortunate to have found such good men. While Ash helped him lead Aya out through the servant's entrance, Niles, who had just begun to get ready for his own shift, agreed to keep watch for the Baron and Baroness and distract them if necessary. But that need never came, and finally, with the ordeal over, Fletch returned to Theo's room. He slipped back through the door with an appreciative pat on Niles' shoulder.
"Right," he grunted. As he'd done countless times now, he measured out the medicine and sat on the bed. He peered at Theo with one weary, bloodshot eye. "Easy way or hard way?" he asked.
Theo had not moved an inch in Fletcher's absence. But, he did stare balefully as the man measured out and brought the dreaded medicine back into view. There was hesitation on his part when all the times before he had braced himself back against the headboard in defiance but immediately caved the moment his bodyguard popped his mouth open and poured it down his throat. Theo was nothing if not stubborn until the very end. But, the pain in his hand was wearing on him with each ending of the mandragora's effectiveness. Part of him worried he was becoming addicted and dependent upon it. Yet, he did not find himself craving it so much as feeling the overwhelming pain of bones knitting themselves back together faster than nature intended.
It was a long pause before he finally shook his head, although he did not lean back either as he normally did. "I am fine. I do not require it, but thank you. You should rest and get cleaned up. You've been here all night again." His voice albeit quiet, sounded deeply strained with barely hidden pain. "I dreamed of Aya sized rabbits jumping in my bed all night."
"Mmh." Fletch stared at him wordlessly, looking very much like he was about to keel over on the spot. Finally, he sighed and scratched his head. "Yeah. It's been a night. You didn't dream it — that was Neish. She thought it would be a great idea to sneak the dog in and have a pillow fight at two in the bloody morning." He looked down at the medicine, then returned his weary gaze to his friend. "Don't make me do this to you again, Theo. I'm so bloody tired. Please just take the damned stuff. We both know you need it."
He looked back with an equally pained and weary expression. Theo knew it wasn't fair to do this to Fletcher. He knew it wasn't fair to make the man force him and yet he also couldn't bring himself to just drink it. It was so much easier to wash his hands of the control of his own actions if someone made the decisions for him. It wasn't fair.
"I won't force you. But," Theo hesitated and reached with his good hand to wrap his fingers around Fletcher's hand and cup both. "I...need help please." He pursed his lips and fought tears of frustration. He absolutely did not want to take it. But, for Fletcher he would. He leaned forward, his hand shaking against his bodyguard's in anticipation.
His eye darted back and forth between Theo's hand and Theo's expression. He could do it himself. That much was clear. But the man earnestly needed someone to help, it seemed. Why? What was this about? "I...sure," he managed, still paying more attention to the fact that the nobleman now gripped his hand. He wasn't certain why it confused him. He just knew that it did. "Er...let me — "
Fletch shifted forward and cradled Theo's head the way he'd done every time he'd made the man crack open his lips. He pressed the glass to Theo's mouth. "Here."
He squeezed his eyes shut tight when the glass touched his lips but drank the shot down quickly. A pair of tears squeezed past his eyes though and he angrily wiped them away. "Thank you for your help. You can...do what it is you need to. I will be fine in the meantime, I promise. Sorry for that. I know it's unfair to you." Theo anxiously picked at his bandaging again.
At the sight of those tears, he suddenly had the most surreal impulse to comfort the man, though he wouldn't know the first thing about how. While Theo had long ceased to remind him of Ven, there were those rare times, like just now, when his heart led him in an old, familiar direction. The feeling itself was uncanny, and intrusive, and he wasn't certain he liked it. He cleared his throat. He pushed the thought aside, alarmed at where his tired mind had wandered to. It was his guilt talking, he decided. That, and his lack of sleep. He just needed to go lay down and get some proper rest, that was all.
All at once, Fletch realized that he'd been watching Theo this whole time without a word. "Right. Erm...I'll be here. Until you fall asleep, that is. Then I need some real sleep, myself."
Theo scooted over slightly on the bed more towards the center. "Can I impose on you to stay here with me until I do? On the bed? I just--" he abruptly stopped speaking in order to take a deep breath as he fought his own anxiety to keep from hyperventilating. "I hate this medicine Jack. I hate it so much. The more I take it, the more I feel like I'm losing myself in it, like I'm drowning in nightmares and I...I'm so afraid that when I awake I'll still be in them."
He shook his head harshly and waved his hand. "Forget it, forget it. I'm being delirious and stupid. I'm going to bed. I promise no trouble." The man slid down under the covers, looking incredibly miserable. His face was grey and his eyes were sunken in with deep, dark bags under them.
Fear flashed in his eye. He was quick to tamp it down and hide it, but it had jolted through him like lightning at the thought of what this stuff was doing to Theo. At how similar it was to his own brief encounters with poppy. He tried to push aside the other part, too: the relief that Theo hated it. The gratitude that this man would never succumb to the temptations of a drug and all that it promised. That he was different. That history wouldn't repeat itself right here and now.
But he shouldn't have been thinking about that at all, so he brushed it off. His eye fell on the spot that Theo had made for him. That request seemed...dangerous. Even with the leniency of his fellow guards, he was sure that if he fell asleep there — which was very likely at this point — there would be questions. "Theo...I think if I so much as get comfortable, I'll fall right asleep. And I don't think you want me sleeping on your bed." He blinked slow and bleary at the man, struggling to keep his eye open. "Is right here okay?"
"No, no I understand. I am not trying to get you in trouble. I just...I'm scared, Jack." He shook his head again. "Don't worry about me. I know it's silly. What can happen to me? I'm in my room, in my bed, kept safe with guards and fluffy pillows. You can stay there but truly, go sleep, Jack. We both can't be miserable." Theo yawned and stretched his legs some, his knee pressing in gently against where Fletcher sat on the bed as if the man was still unconsciously and desperately seeking closeness and physical contact.
He chuckled softly. "Yes, we can. We already are."
Melodrama didn't typically leave his mouth, but there was a truth to it. They were both miserable, in their own ways. He just hadn't realized it until he'd said it, and now wondered distantly if it was just the exhaustion taking effect. That same exhaustion beckoned him to accept what Theo had just tempted him with: sleep, and on a bed far more comfortable than the one he'd been given. It was a terrible idea, he reminded himself. He shouldn't, but...
"Just two more days," he mumbled as he closed his eye again. "And then the worst is over."
Sometime soon after, he fell over and curled up on a small patch of the bed. When Niles came to relieve him, the man simply let him sleep, and kept watch outside the door.
Theodore fell asleep first. But, Fletcher's warmth beside him was like a beacon on a stormy sea calling him to safety. He rolled into the other man's back and wrapped his injured arm around Fletcher's torso, hugging him close. His face buried in close against the warm back before him and his mind was engulfed by the soothing smells of musk and smoke. It was a balm that wrapped around him like a cocoon of peace and security that kept the monsters at bay. No dreams or visions plagued him and for the first time in days, Theo truly slept.
He dreamt that he was home.
It wouldn't be the first time that he'd revisited the four crude walls of the cabin they'd built together. Every so often, whether in sleep or in his waking moments, his mind pulled him kicking and screaming back to that place. And he did kick and scream. He didn't want to be there at all. He didn't want to remember, because even the slightest brush against any of it led him down one of countless paths to the pond. To the dock. To the still-warm, lifeless body held limp in his shaking arms.
But this time, it was different. Someone living and breathing clung to him, held him, assured him that they were safe. He was so ready to believe it. He wanted so badly for it to be real, and for the first time since that fateful morning, he dove willingly into that warm, soft place and all that it promised. Sometime in the night, an arm had wrapped around him, and he followed it until he found Ven's hand, and wove their fingers together.
A hand covered his and gave a light squeeze causing him to wake suddenly with a soft, sharp squeak of pain. His eyes popped open to realize it was Fletcher holding his hand in his sleep and his heart started to thrum in his chest. As he snuggled in more against his back, his arm squeezing around his bodyguard, Theo wondered if he could feel how his heart hammered against his back through his own ribs. Still, he remained close and warm, pretending even if for but a second more that this was real. It had been so long since he'd been able to hold someone and be held. He did not want this moment to end and he knew that the moment Fletcher woke up and realized it, the moment would be broken.
The more he leaned into this, the more it felt real. He could swear that the warmth beside him was tangible and not some figment of his imagination. That he could feel skin moving over knuckles. That Ven drew breath behind him, and Ven's heart beat against his spine. Half-asleep and eye still shut, he rolled over and wrapped the man up in his arms, pulling him closer and planting a kiss on his forehead. He breathed in, expecting spruce and oakmoss and earth.
Something was wrong. The smell of his hair was wrong. The bed was wrong. His eye snapped open, and though his field of vision was limited by his scrunched cheek and the blankets, he could see just enough of Theo's head to realize exactly what he'd been doing.
"Shit."
Without a thought to Theo's injury, he pulled the man's arm off of him and rolled away, nearly falling off the bed. He scrambled to his feet and backed off a few paces, horror and panic setting in. "I'm sorry. That wasn't — I'm so sorry, sir, I fell asleep, I didn't know it was you — I thought you were — I wouldn't have done that if I — "
Theo blushed deeply as he was embraced and kissed. He was just about to try and gently wake Fletcher when the man seemed to wake himself. The nobleman howled as his hand was jostled and flung away. He dragged it into his own lap as he sat up, curling his body around it and rocking slightly in pain.
He bit his lip against the throbbing fire in his hand while Fletcher fumbled to make a clear sentence. What words he could catch through his own glassy eyes only made an acidic pit grow in his stomach. Of course it wouldn't have been for him. Of course he was mistaken from Fletcher's lost partner. Of course he was a fool for letting greed and desire overrule his usual calm and reserved nature.
"You're fine. You're fine," he softly attempted to soothe Fletcher. "It's alright. I know. I thought you were Elijah," he lied, hoping his admission would allow them both to move past this. He had only just got his friend back and then he had to go and be a weak fool because he was lonely. What a pathetic sod he was.
Fletch began to pace, first to the door, and then halfway back, and then to the door — his fierce internal argument manifested in action. He fought to drag his own mind back from where it had been, to shut that door, to forget the agony of the past. Not yet awake and heavily preoccupied, he only half-heard whatever consoling thing Theo said to him.
This was dangerous. The man had always had a way of breaking down his walls and making him soft, but it had gone way too far this time. If they'd been caught like that, whatever the Baron had done to Theo in the past would pale in comparison to his punishment now. And deeper down than that was the fear. The fear that he'd open what he'd sworn to keep shut. The fear that he was still so tangled up in Ven's memory that it would plaster his image onto Theo and drag them both down into the depths again.
That wasn't allowed to happen. He wouldn't let it. He stopped by the door and stared over at the man, and said aloud a thing that should have stayed quiet. But it was the only way he knew to make Theo understand. "It's not. It's not fine. You're drugged, for one. And there's a level of decorum expected of me, sir, and I forgot my place. So whatever that was, it stops here."
He watched him pace back and forth even as he tried to calm his breathing and pain. Fletcher's words though ignited something in his blood again. Perhaps it was the exhaustion or perhaps it was the drugs but when Theo lifted his chin the muscles in his jaw were clearly clenched in irritation.
"I am not a child. Or are you saying that it is me that took advantage of you? If I say I'm fine, then I'm fine. And if you're saying you're not fine then I'm..." Theo took a breath and calmed the fire back into control. "Then I'm sorry for my actions."
"No," Fletch replied without a second's pause. He set a hand on the doorknob, ready to turn it and summon Niles as his relief. When he spoke, it was barely above a whisper. "You're not a child at all, sir, so you know full well what I mean. I'm not arguing; I'm telling you."
He swung the door open without allowing Theo any time for a retort. Niles stood guard as he'd expected. What he didn't expect was what the man told him in that low, even voice. "Sorry. You looked comfortable. I didn't want to wake you up."
Fletcher's eye went wide and he just about dragged his fellow bodyguard into the room. Niles was such a calm man. So mild-mannered and patient, like Theo when Theo wasn't making fights out of the littlest things. He looked just as unbothered now, as though he hadn't at some point in the last few hours walked in on something secret and taboo. Fletch kept his back to the bed, though he had entirely forgotten about the mirror. "No one hears about this," he murmured, a note of pleading in his voice.
Niles shook his head. "It's nothing to worry about. You have my word." He leaned around Fletch to get a better look at Theo before returning his attention. "I'll take care of his medicine the next round. You look like you could use a break. And you really should go get some real sleep. Mistakes are more likely to happen when we're tired, after all."
Theo looked at the man filled with resentment. He hated how he was being talked to, how he was being treated, and how Fletcher perfectly manipulated the conversation so that he was cut off from continuing. Niles peeking around at him was met with a very cold glare through the mirror that the nobleman was using to see the opposite mirror by his bedroom door. Both were in place to allow Theo to see both his bedroom door or his balcony door from his bed. However, in this moment Fletcher had positioned himself just so in front of one to allow Theo to read the entire conversation between the pair.
"My medication needs will not be necessary, Mr. Shepe. And yes, I agree. Mr. Daw should sleep. It would be a shame if someone dared breathe too close to him with a papercut right now. If you two are quite done talking around me now, I will be taking a bath. Or is bathwater unsafe now too?" He got out of bed without waiting for either of them, his expression very much that of restrained anger. It would not do to break his other hand in anger again so contained it would have to remain.
The two bodyguards watched Theo duck behind the screen: Niles perplexed and Fletcher cold, dark, and anxious. Of course he had to have the last word, the stubborn arse. Fletch turned back to his fellow guard, all business despite the deeply compromising scene Niles had undoubtedly walked in on earlier. He wondered if the man really would keep quiet about it. He supposed that time would tell. "Make sure he takes it on time, will you? Knock if you need my help. And...thanks."
Fletch shot one final, troubled glance at the screen, nodded curtly to Niles, and then collected his things and disappeared through the nanny door. Truthfully, with how much of a fuss Theo had caused, he wasn't going to be able to sleep at all. But neither did he want to be anywhere near that room after what had happened. He paced around, his mind an anxious blur as he went over it again and again. He hated this. He hated how this place, how that man, had stripped his control away bit by bit and shoved so many comforts into the cracks like a fucking consolation prize. He hated that it had broken him down until he hardly recognized who he'd become: soft and weak and complacent and apparently not even in control of his own bloody faculties.
It was just as well that he was leaving. He'd see this through with the medicine, because he'd told the healer so. And it had been his fault with the hand. But after that...he'd pack up and go. And he'd never take a job like this again.
Resigned to that thought, he swung the window open, stuck his head out into the freezing air, and had himself a smoke.
Several thunks came from the bathroom as Theo angrily stripped out of his clothes and filled the tub with water. Steam filled the room creating a cocooning fog for the man as he stepped into the hot water and sank down to his ears. The heat sank into his bones and seemed to help wake him up from the miasma the medicine had created in his mind.
Absent-mindedly, the man stared at the wall ahead of him while his thoughts swirled like the water in the tub. It's not fine. Yes, it was true that he was under the influence of his medication and there was the potential that he could not make his own decisions but Fletcher failed to even listen to Theo. He knew his bodyguard to be a good man. He knew him to be upstanding. The fact he had even considered the whole moment, which was entirely Theodore's fault to begin with, as being untoward said all he needed to know. Fletcher was a good man whether he believed it or not.
What truly upset him though as his memory on the entire short-lived argument twisted itself was how much Fletcher repeatedly shut him down and out. He was not a child, he was a grown man. He was deaf, not dumb. He was capable of reason and thought. He was able to be spoken to with calmness and clearness. But his bodyguard had chosen to run to the worst case scenario.
But, then there was Niles who had apparently seen and so perhaps Theo really was the problem in all this. Fletcher was doing his job, he was trying to ensure his charge was kept safe even from himself. What was Theo doing? He was once again endangering the man's job. And for what? His own selfish greed and desire. He was the one that had mentally insisted on holding on a bit longer, on hugging the man close, on letting himself pretend it was something more than it would ever be. He should have stopped it. It was his responsibility to stop it. What kind of friend did this make him? And then he lied to Fletcher too. He told him he thought him Elijah.
Theo slapped the water, sending some splashing out onto the floor in his irritation. Why did he have to think of that man? Everything he was now and did was out of a need to keep him safe. He had let him go, so why did it still hurt so much to speak his name? Why did it hurt more to use him as an excuse to his current bodyguard? Why did he like that it was Fletcher instead of Elijah in his arms? Why did he wish for the tall, muscular rogue instead of the short, willowy fae?
He knew why.
And he hated himself for it.
That door needed to remain closed. He already lost Elijah. He couldn't lose Fletcher too. And he couldn't ensure he could pull his trick twice in order to keep them both safe. Deals with devils only applied so long before new chains came into play. Elijah got to walk so long as Theodore stayed. Fletcher might not be so lucky.
He owed the man an apology. He had once more allowed his ego to get in the way of things. Theo knew he didn't deserve being talked down to like that and he'd have something to say about being excluded and talked about as if he wasn't sitting right there. But, the rest was his fault. Fletcher could lose everything and once again he had stuck him right back in the same situation. He needed to fix this. Whatever Fletcher wanted, he would give it. But he had to fix this. He couldn't lose this man too. He couldn't go back into the cage and sit there alone for the rest of his days. He'd die. He'd just lay down on the bottom of the cage, song silenced until he grew cold and his heart stopped.
The water sloshed as the nobleman dragged himself out of the tub and dried off. First order of business was to get dressed and back into bed. Afterwards he'd wait until Fletcher was back on shift and then they could talk. The man really did need sleep. He'd been a constant over the past five days at Theodore's side and that chair was uncomfortable on a good day let alone being a bed for five bad ones. Then it would be up to the bodyguard to see where things went. And as much as it scared him and pained him, Theo was just going to have to accept that. Because this wasn't about just him. This was about the other man too.
Stepping out into his room, he was met with a sight he had quite forgotten about figuring into his plan. Niles. Sweet Niles smiled at the nobleman and waited for him to sit down on the edge of the bed before gently offering him the medicated tea. Theo tried to refuse it but the man who, like Fletcher, was just trying to do his job, tried to insist further to the point that Theo accepted the cup and joined him in conversation. The tea grew cold in his hand.
A reminder to drink it was met first with a laugh and a promise to. And then Niles was insisting he wouldn't leave until it was finished and there was Theo pouring it out into a potted plant. Niles did not even argue with him as he immediately marched over to the nanny door and knocked gently on it while Theodore tried to beg quietly in the background for him to leave Fletcher alone. All of this though Fletcher could hear word for word as if in the room.
He finished his cigarette and shut the window, and by that point it was so bloody cold in the room that he had to get into bed, coat and all. But whether it was the bright morning light or his racing mind or his pounding heart, he still couldn't find sleep. So he lay there on his back, one arm beneath his head, staring up at the ceiling. And he again went over it all, and tried to shut it down and box it up and shove it into some dark closet with everything else that pushed him too close to feeling.
But try as he might, it returned again: that warm, soft, safe place that he'd allowed himself to revel in. No, not just a place. A man. His friend. But it was just a memory. He was just confused by a damned memory, that was all. If anything, it was evidence for how badly he needed to leave; how much he'd overstayed his welcome.
From Theo's room came the beginning of a dance of denial. Fletch could hear it in his voice from the start: he had no intention of taking the medicine this morning. It would go around and around, with Niles too kind to actually insist, and it would end with the man knocking on the nanny door and him force-feeding this petulant noble once again. "Stubborn arse," he growled up at the ceiling. Then he quieted and kept on listening anyway.
When Niles finally knocked, Fletch had already gotten out of bed and was halfway to the nanny door. He re-entered the room without question, only pausing long enough to instruct Niles to leave and stand watch in the hallway. Then he turned to Theo, expression cool and hard like the wall he'd so desperately struggled to raise. "Are we doing this again, sir?" he asked.
Theo deflated at Fletcher's presence. He looked pissed. Had he even gotten to fall asleep yet? His coat was still on so maybe not. The nobleman wanted desperately to apologize but not yet. He wasn't ready yet. He still wanted to rehearse what he wanted to say and now it was almost like it was now or never and he felt his heart begin to race as his breathing quickened.
He raised his hands, palm out although whether it was in surrender or pleading, Theo could not say for certain. "Please, Mr. Daw. I don't--no, we are not doing this again. Please just go sleep. Your shift is done and you need your rest. I'm feeling alright right now. I don't need to take the medicine and I promise I'll stay in bed and behave. Just please, it's alright, I don't need you to..." His brow furrowed in anxiety and his face pinched in pain. This was not going how he had wanted or planned.
"I wanted to talk to you after you had slept." Theo sighed and picked more at his bandage causing it to untie and begin to unravel. "You don't need to be here right now. I don't need the medicine, Jack. Don't worry about it and just go back to bed."
Fletch looked him over, from the shreds of bandage to his wincing. Here was a mess that he didn't want anything to do with. He didn't have the strength to both hold himself together and push Theo to be a fucking grown man for once in his life. At least Aneisha had an excuse. Theo was 37.
Or maybe Fletch just didn't want to get close enough again for the man to pry him open and leave him vulnerable.
Either way, he wasn't playing this game anymore. If Theo wanted to lay there in agony with an undone bandage, that was his own problem. "Alright," Fletch said, and left it at that. He spun on heel and headed for the main door, eager for Niles to relieve him so that he could leave this damned room.
And just like that the fight was over. Theo relaxed, his posture slumping as the tension left him. As good as his word he crawled right back into bed. His bandage took some effort to tuck in and fix but he managed and laid down as was expected of him.
"Thank you, Jack," he spoke softly after the other man, truly believing his wishes were being respected.
For now, Fletcher would go to bed and get some rest. Then by his return to shift work Theo would be more ready to try and talk things out, to make amends, to learn his bodyguard's demands. There had to be so many of them after Theo's display of anger followed by defiance. Oh what a mess this all was. He was such a fool.
He left without a word, and that was the last that he saw of Theo for more than a day. Determined to wedge a space between them, he shifted the schedule to allow himself a full day's rest. And in that day, after he'd truly slept, he pursued every distraction, every vice, every outlet in his arsenal. He tore at a training dummy until the straw fell out and his knuckles were skinned raw. He left for town, and he drank, and started a fight, and drank some more, and then paid a visit to the Siren. When he finally came home again, it was near dawn, and his bruises and cuts and whiskey breath and swagger betrayed everything he'd been up to. He made his way quietly up the stairs to his room, intent on putting in yet another full night of sleep before he conceivably had to deal with Theo again. As he passed Tiff, the man looked him over and frowned at the injuries, but said nothing.
Then, at last, he was back in his own bed. It was cold. It was quiet. He briefly regretted not paying extra and sleeping in town. At least then, there'd be someone to keep him warm and distract him. His mind jumped unbidden to that dream — to holding Theo close. He scowled and grumbled and flopped down, eager for sleep, if nothing else, to take him away from these thoughts.
While Fletcher enjoyed his day off however he damn well pleased, Theo spiraled in anxiety. He rested as best as he could. He avoided his medicine much to everyone's varying disappointment and disapproval. The pain became increasingly more difficult to bear so that he could feel every heartbeat in his fingertips especially when he tried to breathe deeper through the pain.
But it was his stomach that twisted itself into the most uncomfortable knots that bothered him the most. Fletcher didn't return. Others did in his place so Theo was aware the scheduling had changed. While he accepted it and understood that his bodyguard required space, he still felt his absence strongly. He missed him and the longer the absence the more he worried that Fletcher wouldn't allow him to apologize. Or worse still, Fletcher wouldn't accept it. Perhaps Theo had been a spoiled brat one time too many now.
Or maybe Fletcher realized he wasn't worth the aggravation to remain friends with. Maybe he would redraw the lines this time in stone rather than sand and keep on his side away from Theo and his manipulative cuddles while he was vulnerable and sleeping. Or maybe he'd leave altogether and recognize there were better paying jobs with less aggravation far from the Archer home with its perfectly painted walls and rotten infrastructure.
He paced. He rested. He jumped at every vibration in the floorboards ever hopeful for a scowling faced return. But the nanny door remained closed and the boards didn't creak in that direction until nearly morning. Theo almost didn't even recognize the steps and iciness filled his chest that someone was in Fletcher's room who shouldn't be. He crawled out of bed and opened his bedroom door only for gentle Tiff to reassure him it was just Fletcher and to herd him back to bed like a small child. Theo was too exhausted to protest. Although he stared at their conjoined door well into the morning as if willing it to open.
Time passed and he was oblivious to it even as the sun creeped through his window reaching out with warm tendrils to try and caress him in a comforting embrace. He felt chilled and looked so much worse for all his stubbornness. Sweat dotted his brow and it was obvious he had been up all night, but the nobleman hardly cared for his appearance. He had gone over in his head again and again what he would say. Sometimes he argued. Sometimes he pleaded. Sometimes he just sat in silence. He felt very strongly that he had to say something, that this couldn't just continue as it had before with Theo waiting in not as patient as he would have liked silence while they both rotted on the inside. This was all his fault. He should have just woken Fletcher up. Or he should have sent him away and stopped being such a scared baby. Plenty of people took mandragora with no problems. Why did he have to be so melodramatic?
He needed to apologize. It was as plain and simple as that. Fletcher was right. He was wrong. He needed to own up to that and the other man needed to hear. And from there he could accept whatever terms and stipulations his bodyguard placed on him. Whatever he wanted he would give, even if it meant losing everything. Fletcher was a person and he deserved to feel like he had been appropriately compensated for his troubles and that his voice was actually heard rather than to be placated by a spoiled petty boy.
"So it's settled," he murmured to himself. Whether it was today, tomorrow, next week, next year: however long it took Fletcher to find himself able to talk to Theo again, the nobleman would wait for him and then he'd apologize and accept however which way the cards fell. It wasn't about him and he accepted that it wasn't supposed to be.
The next day, he had his head on straight again. This, despite his pounding headache and throbbing injuries and sore knuckles. He'd gone and he'd been the real him, unequivocally and shamelessly, and reaped the rewards in the form of his cool, calculating self. His old self: the one made of nothing but armor over armor. The one not whittled down into some weak thing that broke under pressure.
When he finally took up his next shift, he was washed up, shaved and combed, and his nails cleaned — more neatness and professionalism than he'd displayed in a full week. He didn't bother to enter Theo's room, but rather left his own through the proper door and swapped places with Ashley in the hallway.
"Gods," Ash snorted as he eyed Fletcher's bruised jaw and split lip. "Some night you had."
Fletch grinned. "Fuck off, Ash."
"Aye," the man chuckled. "Oh. Before I head off. He's not been taking his medicine."
Fletcher tilted his head. He shrugged. "'S his problem, isn't it?"
Ash said nothing to that — only gave Fletch an odd look before echoing the shrug and heading towards the stairs. Fletcher settled into the place where he'd been leaning against the wall, crossed his arms, and leaned his head back, steeling himself for a long and lonely evening.
Fletcher didn't come in. Theo had remained awake all day, had felt the vibrations on the floorboards as the man left his room and stood near his bedroom door. But he didn't come in. Theo has royally fucked up. But, it was okay. He'd give the man space. He owed him that however long it took. Yet he found himself grow more and more anxious the longer he was left alone.
Tea would settle his nerves perhaps. He realized as he looked over that he hadn't eaten all day. He'd been too nervous, too honed in on the door to mind anything else. Still his stomach clenched hard and tight at the thought of consuming even one bite so he ignored the plate in favor of getting up to pour himself a cup. Bless warming charms that kept the pot as hot as when it was freshly off the fire.
It was as he stood to collect the teapot that he realized his next problem. He couldn't pour with his left hand and he wasn't supposed to be lifting with his right. Theo balanced the cup carefully on the edge of the tray while trying to use both hands to lift and pour the kettle. And despite initial reservations it seemed to be going relatively well until the pot became nearly fully upright. The handle slipped out of his grasp, smacking down hard into the tray, and sending everything onto the floor in a shattered mess. The man quickly knelt down behind the side of his bed, righted the tray, and began his attempt to collect all of the broken pieces of pottery and food.
It was all of fifteen minutes before a crash sounded in Theo's room. Fletch slumped against the wall and groaned. "Really?" he muttered. "Really." At first he refused to attend to the man. This was just another temper tantrum, he told himself, and if Theo was so stubbornly insistent that he wasn't a child, then he could pick up his own messes.
But that was Fletcher's job. Wasn't it? Babysitter. And while he still maintained the illusion that he wanted to keep this position, he'd at least have to do the bare minimum. And that meant checking to make sure that there wasn't a break in, or that the nobleman hadn't cut his hand on something. "Fuck it all," he grumbled, and, jaw clenched in annoyance, he made for Theo's room.
He slipped in and shut the door and listened. Somewhere near the bed, he could hear shifting and the scraping of ceramic over wood. Well...good, then. He was cleaning up. Fletch stepped just far enough into the room to confirm that Theo hadn't been attacked and watched him bend and pick up the pieces for a moment. Then, satisfied that the man was perfectly safe, he marched up to the servant's bell, pulled the string firmly, then turned and headed wordlessly for the door again.
Theo felt the footsteps as Fletcher entered the room and glanced over to the mirror to see him enter. A soft gasp escaped his lips to see his bodyguard's bruised and cut face. The nobleman popped up to his feet, his brows knit in concern and heart hammering once more. Fletcher must be furious with him to check on him and try to leave without a word. That or he was scared of the nobleman and what he might do to threaten Fletcher's job. The had to fix this and soon.
"Mr. Daw! I know you don't wish to speak to me right now. I know you are likely quite cross with me and I am sorry. I do also owe you a proper apology but will wait until you are ready for it. That being said, I wanted to make you aware of my intentions. I do not wish the silence to grow so far between us again because I was too much of a coward to make my intentions known. You deserve better than that, especially from me.
"Can I ask though...what happened to your face? Are you alright?"
Fletch rolled his eye and gave Theo no more than another second of his time. He turned just enough so that the man could read him, his every movement cold and aloof. "No idea what you're talking about, sir," he replied, shutting down the rather transparent attempt to reel him back in. Fuck, even this much was exhausting. And before long he'd probably have to deal with Neish, too, since he'd rung the bell. Without another word, he passed back through the door to the hallway and shut it again.
Fine. It wasn't a safe moment to talk. But they were going to talk. Theo would just wait until it was safe to. He could do that. Still, a cold, oiliness sunk in his belly and he felt suddenly very sick to his stomach. A small part of him desired nothing more than to run after the other man and beg him to listen. But, deep down Theo knew that firstly they had to be careful. They had already had the scare in the training grounds and now Niles saw the pair of them sleeping together. With a clearer head, he recognized now that things were a lot more dangerous for them both, especially for Fletcher. Secondly, Theo knew he held all the cards. He was the one of high social standing, he was the one who had to take responsibility for everything. Too often people like Fletcher or Aneisha or even Orz suffered the consequences of their master's actions and took the fall. Theodore was determined that this would not be the case here.
Aneisha arrived not much later, far more subdued than usual and only pausing long enough to stare in shock at Fletcher's face before entering the room. She quickly and quietly assisted Theo in collecting the last of the broken shards. The young woman hugged Theodore tightly as she whispered an apology to him for her antics in the night. He rubbed her back and murmured soft soothing words to her, forgiving her instantly. Aneisha left the room with the tray, and paused in front of Fletcher. "I'm sorry, Jack. I behaved inappropriately for my station and I do know better. Thank you for reminding me and looking out for me. I need to acquire more tea for Teddy. Do you...require anything for you face?"
Fuck. Now Neish was laying on the guilt trip, too, and heavily. Manipulative little shits, both of them, and he'd have nothing to do with it. He'd clawed his way out this far. He'd keep clawing. Wresting back control until everything was just the way he needed it to be. Until they knew he was a fortress that could not be broken down. Better for both of them to learn it now, anyways, than for him to string them along and then just leave. Better for them to see him for what he really was.
He glanced at the scullery maid, but in spite of what he'd just fortified himself with, his expression softened — at least, more than it had for Theo. "Thanks, Neish. I'm fine. Do your thing."
She stared at him a moment longer before bobbing her head and heading back down to do what she needed to. When she returned, she offered him a small smile on her way in. On her way back out, Aneisha handed him a cloth wrapped parcel. "Since you'll be working through lunch I saved you some. Are we still continuing training tomorrow after your shift? I know you've been really busy with Teddy lately and he's looking a bit worse after starting to look better. Probably my fault with Aya..."
He broke his concentration on the opposite wall and regarded her rather distantly. "Thanks, Neish," he said again, and took the parcel. But he didn't open it, instead opting to slide it into his coat pocket for later before returning his stern gaze to her. "Erm...no," he replied quietly. "I have some...things that need doing...in town. Maybe later. And Teddy can take care of himself, as he's kindly reminded all of us," he added, the disdain returning abruptly to his tone at the mention of the nobleman. He jerked his head at the door in a clear dismissal. "Go on, then."
"Oh," she replied softly, her voice clearly filled with disappointment. "I understand. Have a good day then. I'll see you at dinner maybe." Aneisha tried for a smile but it wavered with her uncertainty and she was quick to turn away from him and hurry back down the stairs. In his room, Theo remained oblivious to the going ons outside it.
Time passed.
Hours turned to days to weeks and Fletcher still hadn't spoken more than a few necessary words to Theodore. The healer had come and gone, declaring that the nobleman would require a small brace still given the unanticipated slow progress of his healing. He was ordered to use it minimally while it continued to heal but that he was free to attend the debutante ball which was all Baroness Archer seemed to care about.
For the most part though, Theo kept quietly to his room. He was as polite as ever to everyone but he was also deeply quiet. There were no more tantrums, no more broken furniture, but no more music, and no more words from him beyond the necessary. He heard Fletcher come and go and could not bring himself to intrude further upon the other man who so clearly wanted nothing to do with him.
Learning that the man was ordered to be his shadow for the entirety of the ball only made his heart sink further. Theo had truly hoped things could be more resolved before then, before he put into motion everything his parents had ever asked and expected of him. He fingered the small wooden box in his pocket as he took in his appearance in the mirror. Not a hair out of place, no a blemish in sight. His clothes were made of fine materials and many layers all embroidered with gold threads in the intricate patterns of his family crest. Powders and pastes had been applied to face to accentuate his jawline and sharp cheekbones, to make his pale skin glitter, to hide his dusting of freckles, to draw more color into his cheeks and lips so he looked less like the ghost he felt he was. Theo hardly recognized the man in the mirror. Surely it could not be him with how ragged and empty he felt inside compared to how pristine and perfect the reflection was.
He'd been dreading this.
Fuck, he'd been dreading it.
Weeks of expert avoidance, of calculated schedules and averted eyes, had done their job of making distance at the cost of his energy, his focus, and anything soft and sweet and joyful. Now it was all like it had been before. Not before Theo. Not before he'd come to this place. Farther back. Before Ven. Before he'd begun to change at all. When he laughed, it was harsh and cynical. When he drank and whored, it was more like a habit now than a release of the day's stress. But fuck, was it all worth it for that honed sense of control.
And yet, he still didn't know if it would be enough to hold himself together for six hours at a damned ball. Especially given that he'd have to be sober, and sober these days felt like a dangerous thing. Sober was when those errant thoughts brushed the cracks in the wall. That he'd abandoned Theo to his own fate and allowed him to suffer was a mosquito bite annoyance on his conscience, and yet it persisted until he drank it away at night. That he lived beneath his father's thumb again was a weight that threatened to crush it all. And with his dreams turning again and again to Ven with increasing and frightening intensity, the thought of playing good little bodyguard in that viper pit of nobles seemed more and more like a liability. Like a threat.
But this was his last night, so he'd do it. And tomorrow, he'd tell them all. His things were packed. He'd retrieved Ven's cloak and hidden it away in the bottom of his bag, which he'd then stuffed beneath his bed so as not to alert anyone of his plans. He was so ready to leave this place behind and chase a life away from the Baron's bootheel. Away from whatever Theo had done to him.
One last night. Just hold it together.
The carriage was ready. The Baroness had finally stopped her fussing and crying and shouting. It was time. He stepped into Theo's room and waited by the open door, ready to escort the nobleman into town for the last time.
Theo gave himself one last once over in the mirror and caught sight of Fletcher in the doorway. It had been so long since the pair had stood in the same room together let alone properly conversed. He steeled himself so that when he turned and met his bodyguard's eyes he gave none of his inner emotions away. Touching his pocket one last time, Theo offered a small nervous smile before walking towards the other man. And then straight past him without a single word. Fletcher didn't want to talk to him and so Theodore continued to respect that.
They left his room, down the corridor, down the stairs, through the lobby, and right out to the carriage without a single word or creaky floorboard slipped between them. Theo was not sneaking about or sulking. He smiled when it was expected of him and joked politely with the other guards. He was everything that was expected of him and nothing that he actually was. The perfect gentleman. The perfect son. The perfect pretender until the very end. Tonight would go down as perfect and not a single person would be able to say that the Honorable Lord Theodore Archer was anything less than the perfect catch.
He'd expected trouble at the ball. He hadn't expected it to begin right there and then. But as Theo turned to face him and their eyes met, his stomach dropped and his heart jolted in a way that he hadn't felt in years. His expression must have given it away, if only for a moment. He tried to fight it back, but not before his lips parted in dumbfounded astonishment at this man before him who was so. Very. Pretty. And Fletch knew right then and there. He knew what he'd been trying desperately to shove back into the box. He knew what he was so afraid of. And what was more, he knew that it had nothing at all to do with his past. Nothing to do with Ven. Everything to do with the quiet strength of the man before him. This man who was very pretty and very taken.
He had to get out of here. He had to get out now.
Fletcher opened his mouth to say something. He shut it again as Theo passed without a word. He watched his friend disappear through the door, and for a second he just stood there and stared at the empty place where the man had been. Then a motion caught his eye, and everything came sharply into focus. And his stomach dropped again — though this time, for another reason entirely.
"Ohoooooo!" Ash exclaimed. "Tiff owes me a shiiiil!" He elbowed Niles heartily in the ribs before turning and heading off with a snort. Niles, on the other hand, couldn't have raised his eyebrows any higher if he tried. Instead of following Ashley, Fletcher's fellow bodyguard stepped over the threshold and shut the door behind him. It was dead silent for a moment before he spoke, and in that silence Fletch could hear his heart pounding against his chest. In fighting this, all he'd managed to do was make himself so ill-prepared that he'd been blindsided by it when it hit. It was a disaster of his own making, and now he watched it crumble before his very eyes.
"Jack," Niles said softly. "Get this under control."
Fletch looked up from the bit of floor he'd suddenly found interesting. "Yeah," he replied, and his voice shook more than he'd expected. "Trying."
Niles let out a deep sigh and nodded in a curiously knowing sort of way. "None of us care," he added. "In case you were worried. It doesn't bother the other two. It certainly doesn't bother me. And I didn't tell them, by the way. About the...about what I saw. They both figured it out on their own. So I think you need to be very careful, Jack. This house sees and hears everything."
Fletcher nodded, brow knit but heavily relieved by what he'd heard. His next thought was out of his mouth before he knew it. "It'll be alright. I'm leaving. Tomorrow, if I can, I — "
A shriek from below interrupted them to summon them to their duties. "MR. DAW! YOU ARE LATE!"
"— Shit." He took in a breath, exhaled it as a groan, and cocked his head in exasperation at the Baroness. "Least I won't have that to deal with anymore," he joked, though it sounded hollow when he said it. "Come on. Let's go." He made to leave, only for Niles to hold out a hand and stop him.
"We can talk about you leaving another time. But do you have this?" he asked.
"Yeah," Fletch lied. "Don't worry about it." Minutes later, he'd climbed into the carriage across from Theo, knees pointed at the door and hands splayed out in his legs. He kept his gaze steady on the window, afraid that if he looked at the man across from him, he could very well come undone.
He sat beside his mother with his father adjacent to him and his bodyguard across from him as if everything about the arrangement was normal and to be expected. Yet as the carriage took off and the Baroness prattled on about her excitement for Theodore's big night, the man of the hour sat completely still and silent more akin to a living doll than a man. Not once did he look to his bodyguard.
Not even when they pulled into the estate where the ball was being held did he look at the man, although he did thank Tiffany as the man assisted him in descending from the carriage with his still somewhat injured hand. Theo offered his arm to his mother and escorted her inside as the Baron himself hung back with the carriage and took ahold of Fletcher's forearm.
"I trust you will keep the boy in line tonight? I want no wondering hands, eyes, or lips from him. He is to be accounted for at all times. Am I understood?"
He had a full carriage ride to pull it back together and ruminate on it all. How long had he been lying to himself? Was the threat of wanting someone truly so frightening to a man like him that he'd buried it all this time? How much of this denial had just been him running from Ven's memory, and what part of it was a fear of simply feeling anything at all? Well, it had broken free, now. He'd tamped it down for so long, but here it was, lit aflame and burning through him for a man he could never have.
By the time they arrived, Fletch had found some tenuous control. He could only hope that he would be able to swipe some wine inside and fortify himself further. As they stepped out, Theo paid him no attention, and he pointedly followed suit — which was fortunate, as the Baron stopped him to remind him of the job he'd been doing for six bloody months, now.
Fletcher met the man's gaze with the closest thing he could manage to poise. "Yes, sir. Of course. The men will watch the entrances to deter any...escapes. And I'll keep him in constant sight."
He nodded curtly, then headed off to catch up with Theo, weaving past overdressed women and foppish men through oppressive clouds of perfume. His expression darkened with every step he took towards the grand entrance. On a good day, he'd have hated this place. Today...today would be a trial. He just had to keep reminding himself that it was his last.
As much as he'd know the man's face anywhere, Fletch couldn't find him. He first scanned the walls and the quieter recesses of the room, thinking he'd spot the man hiding away from the crowd. But no. He was nowhere to be seen. So Fletch began to search the spaces in between the gaggles of nobles, wondering if he'd find Theo threading through them, unseen and unwanted, but the man wasn't navigating the room in such a way, either.
He began to panic. The Baron had just told him to keep an eye on his son, and now he'd lost the man in a crowd. He was about to begin walking through for a more thorough search when finally he spotted Theo. It was fortunate for him that Theo couldn't hear, and that the room itself was so loud, because at the sight of the nobleman surrounded by eligible young women...he barked a single, incredulous laugh. It was the strangest thing he'd heard from himself in a while, but the scene was so bizarre that it had burst forth before he could help himself. He took it in, expression halfway between pain and amusement.
"You stupid little things," he whispered. "You've no bloody idea at all."
Theo smiled and engaged with all the eligible young women as they fawned for his attention as if he was made for this moment. His head swiveled this way and that to take the entire overwhelming conversation in so that not a single woman was slighted or missed. He was so far out of his element here he was practically an entirely different person.
But, then the women began to part as the lovely Lady Obower in her elegant midnight blue dress with silver thread and bare shoulders stepped forward. Theo beamed down at the woman, taking both her gloved hands delicately and placing a tender kiss to her knuckles. She spun for him then and he offered her his arm, excusing himself from the other women so that the pair could take a turn about the room.
Edwina attempted to sign to him and Theo laughed softly. With soft, gentle fingers he adjusted hers to make the proper gestures, causing the young woman to blush at the seemingly intimate touch. The pair continued to converse, seeming to have eyes only for each other as they came to pass the drinks table for the second time that evening already.
"I feel like a moon princess who has met her sunshine prince," she declared, leaning in close to his side. Theo beamed back at her. "Nay not a princess. You are a goddess, Lady Obower. There is not a single man nor woman in this room capable of outshining you. I cannot help but notice though how we complement each other this evening. Was that your brilliant planning?"
"No," Edwina giggled, fanning herself and blushing darkly. "Our mothers schemed against us. Although you do look quite lovely my lord. And your hand! I heard you were injured. Are you well?"
"Quite. There is no need to worry. It will heal soon and I will be serenading you with the piano in no time. Perhaps in the meantime though you could humor me and sing for me instead. Your last performance at my home was simply exquisite. My mother has been raving about it still even months later."
"Oh you flatter me, my lord. And your servant? I don't see him here this evening."
"Hmm? Oh Mr. Daw. Yes I'm sure he's around here somewhere keeping an eye on me," Theo replied without making any effort to look for the man. "We can't have the scandal of the two of us disappearing on our twosome now can we?" He teased, and she blushed deeply, hugging his arm to her and resting her head on his shoulder as if the pair of them had always been meant to be.
He felt ugly for laughing, and that crooked smile fell from his face. He'd never seen Theo among so many of his own kind. He'd only ever known the man as he was at home, or with bratty children, or out on their singular adventure together. Watching him now, he could not have been more different. His stomach turned at the sight of what he knew to be a perfect game of pretend. At Theo's polite mannerisms and orchestrated charm. That he behaved like he was at all interested in these women was...
Fletch shook himself. He was staring again. He had to hold it together. Had to be careful. Had to find that calm, controlled place that he'd clung to before. Confident that Theo was going nowhere, he searched the walls for the nearest opulent display of alcohol and made a beeline for it. It was all so overdone. So much frippery. Candied violets in sugared glasses and sparkling wines and all manner of weak drinks that wouldn't give him a buzz if he downed twelve in a row. Grunting in annoyance, he grabbed a glass of wine, pulled a flask from his pocket, and poured in a healthy measure of whiskey before downing the concoction in one go. When he lowered the glass, a woman nearby stared at him from beneath half a pound of makeup. He glowered back until she fucked off.
A familiar voice came from behind him. He couldn't quite place it — that was, until Theo replied to her in the strangest flowery drivel he'd ever had the misfortune of experiencing. "Fuck off," he muttered to himself. "There's no way." But as he turned, he saw her clear as day: that Edwina girl who'd been so horrendous towards Theo. The one who'd treated him like a slow, weak thing for being deaf. And what was more...she was on his arm.
He could have laughed again. What in the everliving hell was Theo doing? He'd said it himself: he had no intention of courting any of these girls. But that was exactly what met Fletcher's ears: the precise, rehearsed play that nobles honed to a razor edge. It was fake and it was as flowery and over-perfumed as this room, and it was once again very much not Theo. Was he doing this to appease his parents? The more he eyed the pair, the more he wondered if Theo would invest himself so much in an act that was never meant to go any further. Surely Elijah wouldn't want this. Or maybe Elijah was in on it: a way to mollify the viper and extract his lover from its lair. Fletch would have known either way, if only he hadn't been such a colossal arse.
He made himself a second glass of spiked wine and poured that down his throat as well. At last, his nerves began to quell, and what he lost in focus, he made up for in the calm he'd been seeking. Let the man play his silly games. See if he cared. He'd watch and he'd wait and eventually, he'd figure out what Theo's angle was.
Music began to play and the movement of people taking to the dance floor compelled Theo to drag Edwina off with him to join the others. He was as terrible as he had promised he was and yet he laughed and spun and skipped with the rest of them. His own missteps and poor timings only seemed to entertain the circle he was weaving in and out of with Edwina. By the time the music ended everyone had bruised toes and happy hearts. They joined up again for the second song but by the third Edwina and Theodore danced together entirely as they turned about the room in each other's arms. His eyes did not leave hers even once to stray to others. It was so intense a gaze in fact that she ended up stepping on his toes a number of times too. Once she even squeezed his right hand too hard in an effort to catch herself causing him to wince mightily. Still, Theo showed no other signs of pain beyond shaking it out afterwards.
Parched and exhausted, Theodore twirled her gently off the dance floor and found a seat for her to rest in while he fetched them some drinks. Inadvertently while he was busy deciding on which violet wine to choose for her, Theo managed to position himself directly across from Fletcher. He looked up and caught the man's eye and then allowed his own to slide off him as if the bodyguard was nothing more than a window curtain, functional and present but not at all worth commenting on. Instead he downed one of the drinks in his hand quickly before collecting a second and heading back to Edwina with his two glasses.
The pair sat conversing and drinking quietly between themselves as if the rest of the room did not even exist. She practiced more of her sign language with him which he was more than kind enough to continue to physically assist in correcting her. They smiled and laughed and touched while others in the room took it all in anticipation. Would they? Wouldn't they? It was hard to tell. Theo had certainly bungled enough of these types of events that surely he wouldn't manage to win the heart of Edwina Obower. And yet he seemed to be doing just that.
As the night drew later, Theodore seemed to grow slightly more anxious. His leg bounced as he sat and shifted more in his seat. Finally he beckoned the lady to her feet and invited her to walk the gardens with the night lights and flowers with him. Without any regard for the fact that he was supposed to be supervised by his bodyguard, Theo simply exited into the night with his lovely lady on his arm. The pair talked animatedly as they wove through a low hedge labyrinth towards the center that held a beautiful gazebo where the pair could sit and talk further on the carved marble benches away from so many of the prying ears and eyes of servants and nobles alike.
As the night deepened, he still couldn't understand it. He couldn't help but watch, either, in morbid fascination, as the two seemed to draw closer and closer. "What are you doing?" he muttered to himself. And how was Theo so good at it? When had he learned to perfect this skill of pulling in a woman? If Fletch wasn't in his current sorry state, he might have admired it. As it was, he'd begun to feel sick, and his looks at Edwina went from disdainful to murderous. Watching her practice signing was the worst of it — even worse than Theo looking right through him. "You daft little bitch," he whispered. "You don't even care."
A hand clapped on his shoulder, pulling him out of his fit of jealousy. It was Niles again, looking rather serious considering their joyous surroundings. Fletch felt the blood drain from his face. Had he been that obvious? "Jack," the man warned. "Leave it be. I'll watch them. Just go and get some fresh air, please."
Fletch shrugged away from him in a petulant act of defiance no doubt fueled by the several drinks he'd now consumed. But Niles' hand returned, and the man gripped him again. "I'm fine," Fletch hissed.
"You're staring," Niles replied calmly. "And the only saving grace you have right now is that he's with a woman. Leave it be. Go get some air. We'll keep an eye on them."
Slowly, he began to deflate — to see reason and step away from that bulldog lock on Edwina. Niles was right. At a minimum, if he ever wanted a job in this city again, he'd need to be more careful. He took a deep breath and glanced at his fellow guard, nodded, and pushed roughly through the sea of nobles and out into the garden. Without a care for who saw him, he dug out a smoke and lit up and then marched off into the hedge maze, eager to put distance between himself and what he'd seen.
Music faintly reached the gazebo and Edwina asked for another dance that only she could hear the beat to. She drew in close against Theo, resting her head on his chest as her arm wrapped about his waist and she held his broken hand gently. They rocked slowly rather than dancing properly.
For her she enjoyed the perfume of flowers, the warmth of his body against the chill of the night air, the soft dulcet sounds of the orchestra, and the perfection of the evening.
For him it was the beat of her heart against his, the smallness of her hand in his, the sweet, sugary scent that wafted off her.
Everything was right in Edwina's mind.
Everything was wrong in Theo's mind.
The music stopped and allowed him to continue holding her and dancing. Eventually though he spun her in a gentle circle and bowed low before her with a kiss to her fingertips. Her cheeks were flushed as he directed her to sit and took off his outer robe to wrap about her shoulders and warm her against the chill night air. Edwina readily snuggles into it pulling it close around her with a brilliant smile of thanks. The pair talked quietly even as Theo began to finger the box in his pocket once more. He causally slipped it out and held it behind his back, digging the soft pad of his thumb into one of the sharp corners just to ground himself in the moment.
"Dearest Edwina the months of getting to know you have been my greatest source of light as these dark days grow longer. I have often sat in my rooms and read my books dreaming of far off places. Never until I met you did I dream of more. Yet, from the moment I met you, I knew my adventure had begun. Every day with you is a wonderful addition to my life's journey. And I have fallen in love with you for a million tiny reasons. So much so that I wish to dedicate a lifetime to discovering millions more. I want to be the reason behind your smile, because you are the reason behind mine."
Theo dropped to his knee and pulled the little wooden box from behind his back to open and present to her. "Lady Edwina Obower you are the one I have waited all my life for. You are my once-in-a-lifetime love. Will you do me the honor of sharing happily ever after with me?"
Edwina squealed, clapping her hands like a child before plucking the ring up and slipping it onto her finger to admire. "Yes, yes! A thousand times yes! Oh it's so beautiful! Oh and this evening has been so perfect!" She laughed and embraced him where he knelt before getting to her feet and spinning in a circle. "Oh I have so many people to tell! Come let us announce it to everyone!"
"Why don't you run ahead my lady. I find my heart still beats too strongly in anticipation of your answer. I shall be along shortly," he bade her, smiling softly until she was out of sight. Only then did his mask finally fall when he thought himself alone enough to be the ragged man he was inside rather than the doll he had presented all evening.
The familiar smell of smoke reached his nostrils and as he looked up beyond the gazebo he caught sight of a familiar eye. Fletcher. Of course he was here. Without releasing the man's gaze he called out softly to another of his bodyguards.
"Niles," the man materialized from behind him. "Would you please inform the Baron and Baroness as well as Lady Obower that I shall be retiring for the evening and have the carriage made ready."
"Sir?"
"I'm fine. Go. I find myself dizzy with nerves is all. Rest will do me well."
Of course he wasn't alone out here. Why would he be bloody alone? A pair of these insufferable twats wandered out of the door behind him, flirting and tittering. Fletch pressed further into the maze, determined to have a moment away from all of this. Within minutes, he reached the over decorated gazebo at the center. But he found that he couldn't quite make himself sit at the moment, so he began to pace. He burned through his first smoke, tossed the butt to the ground, and lit another. He was halfway through that one when the pair caught up with him, and now that they drew near, he knew exactly who they were.
"You're fucking shitting me, Theo," he muttered acerbically, convinced that the man conspired not to give him a moment's peace this evening. He retreated further into the bushes before remembering what he'd promised the Baron: not to let the man out of his sight. So he stood in the shadows of a tree, away from the light of the moon and the many lanterns that flickered throughout that ostentatious garden, and he watched.
The cigarette dropped to the grass.
It happened without him fully grasping what it was until it was far too late. One minute, the two had been dancing their courtship dance. The next, the proposal was over, and Edwina ran to tell the whole world. Fletcher's sight blurred and dimmed. His ears began to ring until all that he could hear was that singular screaming tone above the rapid drumbeat of his heart. Before he knew it, he had started forward and caught up with Theo and then stopped, heaving and wide-eyed, a few feet away. He was a mess of hurt and rage and grief and longing and he hid none of it. That Niles had run off to prepare the carriage was both a blessing and a curse.
"Theo. What...? Why?"
The nobleman stood stoically through it all. It was as if the storm that raged in Fletcher, battering and howling at his walls held Theo as the calm center of it all. Theo was the eye of the storm and he did not seem to falter for a second in the other man's presence.
"Now you speak to me?" he asked incredulously. "For two and a half weeks have I longed to see your lips move with my name on them. To have you hear me or so much as look in my direction as more than just your charge. And you choose now. You will not accept my apologies. You will not accept my friendship. What else do I have to give you? I am doing what is expected of me, sir. What are you doing? Drinking all hours of the day and night, even when on duty now? I understand you do not take this job seriously, but I considered our friendship to be very serious. If you cannot be bothered to care and try and salvage with that me, then neither shall I."
"You think I don't — "
He'd already begun to raise his voice. He stopped, held up a hand, closed his eye, quieted himself. He tried again. "You think I don't care," he repeated softly, but his incredulity still seeped through in his gritted teeth and knit brow. "You really think — that what that was about — was me not caring." Fletch began to chuckle, but it sounded so very close to a sob. He stepped closer. "And what. Two weeks without me there day in and day out to keep you company, and you've gone and found the one thing that we both know you don't want? What — for attention? Is that it? Because you have my fucking attention, Theo. You want to talk about duty? I can't let you do this to yourself."
"How am I to know what anything means? You do not speak to me. You avoid me, you push me away, you get angry with me, you shut me out, and shut me down. You regularly turn your back on me or speak through gritted teeth knowing I cannot hear you or storm out of the room like a child with his hands over his ears." The more he spoke, the more passionate and frustrated Theo became. How unfair and cruel it was for Fletcher to suddenly decide to get in his face and start giving a damn as if he had not been ignoring the nobleman for weeks and before that months.
"This was always going to happen. It was the plan long before you even came into the picture. This was the deal I made with the devil for my own survival. I thought you understood that. There was always more at stake than me and now," his breath caught in his lungs as his voice lowered and softened, "now I have even more to lose."
He stared back with his own mixed emotions briefly flitting across his face, held back far better than Fletcher's own were. Theo bit back his anger and anguish with every word as it cut his tongue on its painful passage out of his soul. "So you'll have to excuse me Mr. Daw, but the world does not revolve around you, and what I choose and choose not to do has very little to do with seeking your attentions. I am so very tired of being made out to be some foolish, naive child that I am not."
He was right. Of course he was right. When was perfect, sharp, witty Theo ever wrong? Fletch had deserved such a dressing down and more, if he was being honest. The fight left him in a long, slow release of breath like steam from a kettle. He cast his gaze downward. Of course this had been in the works for months. And he'd been so preoccupied with his own wound up thoughts that he'd missed it entirely.
Fletch faced Theo again, calm and collected, the man's words a bucket of water tossed on his besotted self. His expression had softened now to distant thoughtfulness. The gears clicked and turned and the pieces fell into place. It really was time to end this, after all. He nodded. Swallowed back what felt awfully close to tears for such a rough old man. "You're right. I...yeah. No. You're right. I've been...I'm sorry, Theo. For everything."
He lingered for a moment longer like there was more he wanted to say, to do. Then he sighed and nodded again and headed around Theo for the carriage. "I'll grab the boys," he said as he passed. "Let's get you home."
Theo shook his head slightly looking absolutely gutted as Fletcher passed him. "I'm sorry too," he murmured for the other man's ears alone as the scent of musk and smoke enveloped his senses. The memory of being so thoroughly ensconced in that scent rose unbidden into his head as he remembered the warmth and feel of Fletcher in his arms. Why was it that as they both apologized and Fletcher walked away from him that it felt like he was tearing Theo's heart out with him? His heart still beat within his ribs and yet it felt like it was shattering into a million pieces at his feet. What was this ache and why was it so strong and why was it all because of Fletcher?
His nails dug into his palms while he fought tears with white-knuckled fists. The attraction he had long since accepted and did his best to bury away but why did this feel so much like a goodbye? Like the final page of a book? Like the unsatisfying ending of an author who loved to torture their readers?
He could not think on it further and spun quickly on his heel to follow. Faces were a blur as he gave distracted smiles and quickly retreated back outdoors to his carriage. Bartrand, Tiffany, and Ashley were already present. Theo nodded to both men as he stepped into the carriage and took his seat, feet already propped up on the seat in front of him without a care for rules and decorum. Shadows moved outside his curtained window but Theo paid them no mind in his desperation to be away, to be home, to be buried in the blankets of his bed where his heart could bleed with no one to see or hear how it screamed.
The carriage jostled and then it was off. Fletcher had not joined him. It was likely for the best and yet his heart sank further. The empty ring box stung in his still clenched hand and he released it to realize he had superficially cut his palm from holding it so tightly. He pushed on the skin beside the cut and watched as a single bead of blood eked out of the wound.
Theo was engaged. The thought was deeply sobering and numbing. His parents must be so proud. Elijah would have been proud and accepting, encouraging to the very end. So why was it that his thoughts did not turn to the slight man who had served him since his teens but to the rogue who served him now? It was not Theo's first love that he ached for and desired comfort from. It was not the scent of cool spring water but omnipresent fiery smoke that he sought to drown himself in. When had the face he wanted to share all his secrets with and bare his soul to changed from ageless fae to grizzled human? When during all these months of strife and complacency did Theo trip and fall in love?
Niles up with Barty and him and Ash on the back, they started home. He was so glad to watch that awful place fade into the night. Fifteen minutes earlier, he'd have fantasized about setting fire to it with everyone still inside, and he'd have laughed bitterly about it. Now, drenched in the cold truth of Theo's words, he simply gazed at it until it disappeared behind the trees. And as he did, he made his mental list.
Aya would stay. He trusted that Theo and Dewey would find a better home for her. Ven wanted her cared for. That was his last wish. Well, she couldn't be in better hands. And then he'd be free to wander, load lessened one more weight. He wouldn't say goodbye to the staff. They'd argue. Neish...Neish was done with his sour attitude anyways. He knew better than to hurt her any more than he already had. Niles knew, but he'd keep quiet. So that left Ash and Tiffany. But he was too tired for it tonight, so he'd say his goodbyes tomorrow morning. Less time for discussion. Easier on everyone.
Did he tell Theo?
No. He wouldn't. It was cowardly of him and he knew it. But he also knew full well that it would drum up an argument, and he'd lose his cool, and he'd say or do something that he shouldn't. He couldn't allow that. But he'd write a note explaining it all. All of it except for the fire that raged within him for a man now twice taken.
"Did you know he was going to do it?" Ash piped up, holding an expectant hand out for a cigarette. "The proposal thing."
"Nah," Fletch replied quietly. He dug for his case and got to work lighting one for each of them, then handed Ash's over.
"Really?" Ash chortled. "You didn't see him holding the box and all?"
Fletcher turned slowly to glare at the man. He was young, and while he had his heart in the right place, he had a tendency to find the upper hand, sink his teeth in, and not let go. "Fuck off, Ash," he grunted.
Ashley laughed in defiance of the warning. "You're really bothered by it? It's not like you can't still bend the boss's son over on the side."
"For once in your fucking life, Ash, shut your damned mouth," Fletch growled.
"I'm just saying, you'd both be a lot happier if you just — "
"Shut the fuck up, Ash — "
"HIGHWAYMEN!"
"Yeah, very funny, Barty," Ash snorted. "Look, you don't have to be such a cranky prick — "
The arrow struck him square in the sternum, and Ashley stumbled and fell from the carriage. "Ash? Ash! Shit." Fletcher glanced wildly between the fallen guard and the back of the carriage. If there were highwaymen, they had to move fast. But he couldn't leave Ash. And he couldn't leave Theo, either. He pulled himself up to call over the top. "Stop the carriage!"
"Can't, they're trying to head us off — "
"STOP THE BLOODY CARRIAGE! They got Ash. He fell off."
"There'll be a fight if we do — "
"I'M NOT LEAVING HIM," Fletcher bellowed. As Bartrand pulled hard on the reins, the carriage careened and rocked onto one side before slamming back down to the road. Up ahead, the horses screamed, terrified by the pandemonium. An arrow whizzed by and stuck deep into the wood behind him just inches from his head. He scrambled down off the platform and swung around the side to crack open the door, cursing beneath his breath.
"Highwaymen," he breathed to Theo. "Lock the door. Head down below the windows. If they find you — " He paled and looked like he might faint, then drew a knife from his belt and set it on the seat. "Balls, eye sockets, and nose. Stab them if you have to, then run like hell." Before Theo could respond, he shut the door again and ran into the fray.
The carriage bumped along feeling like business as usual to Theo, not that he was truly paying attention. His thoughts were filled with how his cage was shrinking in on him, on all the mistakes he'd made to get to this point, all the people he was failing by letting his feelings to come to the surface. He was in the throes of a spiral on what to do about his feelings towards Fletcher and keeping the man at arm's length all while marching towards his own unwanted marriage when he was unceremoniously slammed into the side wall as the carriage veered, nearly tipping before dragging to an abrupt stop.
Panic swelled within his chest and his hand went to the handle of the carriage door when it was suddenly ripped from his grasp. His hand balled into a fist, ready to strike when Fletcher's serious and strained face came into view. Theo could barely process all he was saying with the speed and anxiety he was rattling things off. The way Fletcher paled though was an indication of the seriousness. This was real. This was no joke. He took up the offered knife and dropped to his knees on the floor, keeping himself small and out of sight as best as he could.
With his head down and his vision thereby blocked from knowing what was going on, Theo never hated being deaf more. His palms were sweating with fear over the unknown. He couldn't see, he couldn't hear, he couldn't fight. Fletcher and the other bodyguards were just meant to be for show and now they were truly needed? What if something happened to them? What if Fletcher got hurt? What if...what if...what if...
The carriage shook as people bumped into it and fought against it. Each movement made Theo's heart squeeze as he gripped the knife tighter. His hands shook with anxiety yet, when something shattered against the side of the carriage and heat and smoke flooded the cavity he was quick to act. He pressed the back of one hand against the door in front of him, yanking it away at the searing heat on the other side before turning and trying to check the other door. It was cooler to the touch and he rushed to open it, coughing out the smoke in his lungs for fresh air.
A pair of hands clapped down on his shoulders, helping to drag him out further and away from the flames. Theo coughed and wheezed, his eyes burning with tears as he leaned into the other man that was bodily dragging him passed the screaming and panicking horses. But, it was only as his vision began to focus that he realized his grave error. This was not a friend who had saved him but a familiar enemy who had dragged him out. A cold, iron blade pressed tightly to his throat as a steely grip held him in place. The smell of alcohol in such excess cut through that of burning wood making Theo's stomach turn. His mind was slow to process it, yet as he was being held hostage and could feel the rumbles of speech against his back, he was nearly positive that the face he had caught in his peripherals was that of none other than his former driver, Orz.
He only wished he'd been more prepared. They were all so complacent: so sure that nothing would ever actually happen. Confident that the Baroness's fears were all in her anxious little head. And now Ash lay still in the dirt some yards behind them, and chaos encircled the carriage. Was he even still alive? Fletch paled to think of it.
Fight first. Then triage. What he wouldn't do to have someone as skilled as Ven by his side in this. Or Ven's brother, that fearless bull of a man. Sure, he was at home in a brawl with countless weapons at his disposal. Here, it was too open. Too vulnerable. It was him, his sword, and his fists. He just hoped they'd all make it out of this alive.
"More from this side!" Bartrand warned as the highwaymen closed in from multiple angles.
"Jack! To me!"
Quick-thinking Niles had unhitched the carriage from the horses, but now he'd been backed against the flank of one of them as it stamped and shifted nervously. His two assailants were almost within range of his sword. Fletcher's own remained sheathed. There wasn't time. Instead, he barreled forward, smacking into one of them and toppling him into the other, sending all three of them tumbling to the ground. "Help Barty!" he cried over his shoulder before wrapping an arm around one of their necks and dragging him to his feet. He spun clumsily and released, and the man stumbled backwards into the carriage before rebounding towards him.
Now it was time for the sword. He drew it just in time to run the highwayman through, pinning him back to the carriage door, their cries of fury and agony one. Fletcher's bellow cut off as the second man flew into him, grabbing for his hair and scruffing him by the coat. His sword dropped. They fell back to the ground, locked in a struggle for their lives, the highwayman's knife flashing, Fletch desperately fending it off. Twice it sunk into his shoulder, and he roared like a wounded animal before rolling atop his attacker and throwing a desperate and sloppy punch. By sheer luck, it connected, and the man's head lolled to the side. His own knife found its way into his neck shortly thereafter.
Scrambling to his feet and struggling to get his bearings, Fletch stumbled forward for his sword. On the other side of the carriage, cries rang out: assurances that Barty and Niles were still kicking. If only Ash were there too, they'd have cleaned this up already. "The bowman," he breathed as he remembered the arrows. "Where's the bowman?" Their only saving grace was the fact that it was dark, and the man likely lurked in the forest a ways off.
That was, unless he wanted to get up close and personal. And as Fletcher turned towards the tinkle of smashed glass and the smell of smoke, he knew that he'd found exactly the man in question. A familiar silhouette loomed against the growing blaze, bow hung from one shoulder. "You motherfucker," he growled, limping towards Orz with his sword at the ready. He was about to swing when he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of what Orz held still against Theo's pretty throat.
"Drop it," Orz grunted.
In an act that confused even himself, he dropped the sword immediately and without question, and he held up his hands in defeat. In this very moment, with his heart hammering and fear and adrenaline thrumming through his veins, he wanted nothing more than to keep fighting. For Theo's life, he'd stop. "Fine," he rasped, his voice hoarse and cracking from the screaming, his eye fixed, not on Orz, but on Theo. "You've won. Just don't hurt him."
His breathing was ragged and rapid. Fletcher was alive, bloody, but alive. Had he not had a knife at his throat, he might have burst into tears in relief. But then his bodyguard was dropping his weapon and Theo was shaking his head, pleading silently with him. He glanced down towards his own hands before back to Fletcher's face. The knife still rested in his palm and he carefully turned it so the blade faced backwards while his right hand signed a single word: 'trust.'
Theo's eyes rolled back in his head even as Orz continued to shout orders at his back. He slumped in the man's arms, the iron blade cutting across the nobleman's throat some as he seemingly passed out.
"Keep back!" Orz growled, threatening to bury the knife deeper as he lowered Theo to the ground. No sooner though had the other man been placed on the ground than his eyes popped open and he was ramming the knife in his own hand back into the former driver's body. Blood spurted over Theo's face and body, showering him in crimson and yet it did nothing to deter him. With a cry of rage he slammed the blade back again and again catching the howling man in the crotch and thigh before he too dropped to the ground behind the still frantically swinging Theo.
It was Theo who came to his own rescue that night. Had he not been wholly preoccupied with his friend's safety, Fletch would have admired the man's quickness of thought, his expert feint, the ruthlessness with which he'd swung the knife. But with Orz still very alive and very capable of dragging Theo back into a headlock, that admiration would have to wait.
The moment he'd seen Theo in danger, everything beyond them had all but ceased to exist. The guttural cries of brutal close combat, the screams of the horses, the acridity of burning paint: all subdued as though he'd plunged into the ocean. It was him, and Theo, and Orz. And it caught up with him, right then and there, what exactly this had all been about:
Revenge. For a thing that Fletcher had caused.
He'd done this.
Something snapped within him. He barreled forward, a wild thing of fists and rage, sword forgotten in the dirt. He tumbled to the ground atop the man in a furious, muddy, bloody whirlwind and grasped those filthy hands and pried his fingers open and wrested the blade away. It took its own payment in the deep slice it drew across his palm before he tossed it aside. Wisdom would have meant keeping it, but in that moment, fueled by months of pent-up anguish, Devlin Fletcher was a rabid dog unleashed: driven by instinct alone.
He drove his knee into the fresh wounds that Theo had left and he grasped Orz by his greasy hair and he wailed on the man again and again. Orz struggled and roared, arms flailing wildly. A fist connected with Fletcher's jaw and he saw sparks and before he knew it he was on his back in the dirt with two massive hands around his neck. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. He kicked. Struggled. Aimed for the man's groin to no avail. The sparks grew and his body went heavy and the world went dark and still he couldn't breathe.
On limbs that felt like jelly, Theo scrambled out of the way as Fletcher in a blur of motion attacked the man behind him. Everything felt like he was swimming through gravy. The heat of the carriage fire felt like it was burning his skin. Shapes moved around him, too fast for him to track or make them out save for Fletcher. All around him things moved twice as fast except for the two grappling men in front of him who moved twice as slow. His own feet felt like made of marble as he helplessly stood and watched them.
His bodyguard's movements slowed before coming to a complete stop below the grinning and laughing assailant. Theodore wanted to wipe that disgusting grin from his face. Then his feet moved without him realizing and his fists were coming down in weak blows to the man's back, neck, and shoulders. Theo collapsed over him, the pair of them crushing Fletcher beneath them as the nobleman frantically continued to rain blows down upon his still body.
It was Barty dragging him off Orz and Orz off Fletcher that finally brought Theo to his senses enough to stop his possessed flailing. Only then as he sat on his rear in the cold mud did he pause long enough to look down at his hands. He was coated in blood, his face, his hands, even the mud beneath him was made of it. He could taste the copper in his mouth and smell it in the air. His hands shook but the knife Fletcher had given him still remained firmly in his grasp. He didn't feel injured. How was there so much blood? Was it really all from just one body. It was a mercy he never heard Orz's death throes, the soft exhaled as his lung was pierced, the gurgling as it filled with fluid. The sight alone would likely haunt his nightmares, if he ever slept again that is. Right now he just felt so numb.
It all went black. He didn't know how long he'd been that way: floating away from his own body, drifting along that current towards his final rest. Then he heaved and his lungs filled and the weight lifted from atop him, and he rolled away to cough into the dirt. Every breath felt like fire in his throat. His body screamed at him for air, and no amount seemed to sate it. His eye was coated thick with something that he later realized was another man's blood. He stumbled to his feet, still choking and gasping, staggering where he stood. Only when he wiped his eye clean did it come into focus: Orz's body. Theo, stained red, Fletcher's knife in his hand.
Theo had saved him. Theo had saved his damned life. Theo himself was safe by the looks of him, and although Bartrand was bruised and beaten and bleeding, and Niles had a pronounced limp, they had all of them made it out alive. And that left...
"Ash. Where's Ash?" he managed in between hoarse and ragged breaths.
"Niles has him. Back behind the carriage."
Fletch nodded, stumbling towards that fire-lit silhouette in the distance: one man kneeling, one laying limp on the road. "Let me see him. We need to stop the bleeding."
"Jack."
"Need to see to the arrow."
"Jack, he's gone."
Fletcher stopped. He didn't turn to confirm what he'd heard — just stood there and stared ahead of him and watched Niles remove his coat to drape over the body. He'd known it all along, hadn't he? That the arrow had hit something vital. That Ash was dead when he'd hit the ground. Ash, who moments ago had argued with him, had called him a prick, had laughed as he bummed a smoke. Ash, whose dark eyes always seemed to glitter with some unspoken joke.
"No. No he's not," he murmured, and started forward again. A hand closed around his arm and held him there, splitting open the stab wounds in his shoulder to leak fresh and dark into his ruined coat. He clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth and tried to pull free, but Bartrand's grip was steady, and Fletcher was weak from what Orz had done to him.
"He's not," he repeated.
"Let it go," Barty said. "Just let it go. We don't know if it's the last of them. We need to get Master Theodore home."
At Theo's name, he snapped out of it and turned to stare his thousand-yard stare at the two of them. Bartrand released his arm. Behind them, the carriage lay in ruins, slumped off its broken wheels with the top caved in. The horses had run off a short distance and now stood in the grass alongside the road, still agitated from the commotion.
"Okay," Fletch breathed, willing himself to hold it all together. "Alright. We get him home. Both of them. And then someone needs to ride back and warn the Baron." His gaze slid to Theo, dead and numb and glazed-over. "Ash gets one horse. D'you need the other?"
While the men argued and talked amongst themselves, Theo struggled to his feet, the knife still tightly gripped in his palm, although he did not realize it as of yet. He stared, almost unseeing as Fletcher spoke to him. He didn't even blink and there was a pause as the words rattled around in his head like a wooden cup full of weighted dice.
"No," he finally spoke, resorting to his native tongue in his shock without realizing that Fletcher would not understand him. "Niles can go back and get Tiffany now. Jack can ride the other with Ashley. Bartrand and I will walk."
He looked around them at the bodies, the mud, the smoldering remnants of his carriage and felt his breathing struggling in his chest as his lungs competed with his heart for space. "What about all of them?"
It took a moment for Bartrand to translate, but as he did, Fletcher shook his head vehemently. "I'm not losing anyone else tonight," he rasped. "If there are more, they'd pick him off. We move as a group. We're closer to home, anyway. Might as well just get all the way back. When we get there, I'll grab an escort of guards and ride to warn them." Even just saying it exhausted him, weighed on him. His every word tore at his aching throat. He didn't know whether he could hold out long enough to do what he'd said he would. But he had to. He had to. Ashley was his fault. It was all his fault. He had to be the one to make it right.
"You can walk, Theo," he added. "Do what you need to. But we're not splitting up. And them? This? Fuck em. They rot until we come back and assess what in the hell just happened. How Orz knew where we'd be and when we'd be there. I can take care of it with the guard contingent after we warn Tiff and your dad." Another weight. Another thing to hold himself together for, but he could already feel the cracks splitting him into pieces.
Hold it together.
Redoubling his tenuous grip on consciousness, Fletcher looked Barty over, then considered his own physical state. "Take the other horse," he said.
"Jack, I think you need it more than — "
"Bollocks. Take the horse."
Barty took the horse, and Fletch and Niles lifted Ash's lifeless body up onto the other one. Fletcher took his legs, knowing full well that if he'd seen the man's glassy, dead eyes, and held that weight in his arms, he'd break. And breaking was not something these people could afford of him. Not right now.
At last, he returned to Theo's side. "Let's go," he murmured, and followed the horses into the night.
"I can walk," he repeated in agreement. Not splitting up made sense but Theo still grit his teeth over Fletcher's stubbornness. "Bartrand can stand and fight better than you right now." His protests were weak even as they walked towards home. "And you're bleeding."
He shook his head but kept close as if ready to catch the other man when he inevitably passed out from his own injuries. His clothes clung to his skin feeling damp and sticky as he mentally convinced himself it was from falling in the mud and nothing to do with the crimson substance coating more of him than it wasn't.
The evening wind while chilling to the bone at least helped to keep him alert. Theo did his best to keep his shallow breaths and chattering teeth at bay. Everyone was already so beaten down and tired and stressed that he did not need to add to their burdens with such trivial concerns. They'd be home soon and he could get cleaned up and warmed up then. The dizziness would likely pass then too.
"You'll all need the healer too."
Hold it together. Just hold it together. Just hold it together, just —
They walked behind the horses, and his vision fixed on Ash, and all else was black. His eye stung and his throat felt tight and it had nothing to do with Orz choking him. Something hot ran down his cheek. He wiped it away and clenched his teeth against that swelling despair. — hold it together. Just hold it together. Just hold it together —
Theo spoke, and he still didn't understand him, but those foreign words still pulled him back to the moment. He glanced at his friend and realized that the man was shaking. That the blood had soaked into his clothes. "Shit. Theo — " Fletch hurriedly shook his coat off and hung it over Theo's shoulders, wrapping it over his arms. "Wish you'd said something."
None of what had happened had registered in his brain yet. Shock was setting in and fast so that his mind was completely silent to the trauma he had endured and caused. Instead he looked to Fletcher with a disapproving scowl. A mild protest escaped him as he tried to take the coat back off and put it on Fletcher instead. But, he hissed softly at the obvious wound in his bodyguard's shoulder.
"Jack, you're bleeding. It looks bad. Why didn't you say anything? I don't need your coat, you do!"
Theo looked at him with such concern and heartache. Everyone was hurt because of him. This was all his fault and Fletcher was more worried about Theo catching a chill than his own stab wounds.
"Is it deep? Can you use your arm still?"
All he'd caught of it was his alias, but Theo had clearly addressed him now. He could no longer write it off as the man talking to himself in his own language. "Can't understand you," he replied.
"What? What do you mean you can't understand me? I've been talking to you this whole time. Did you hit your head? Your ears?"
Theo stopped suddenly in front of him. His brows were knit in concern as he gently lifted Fletcher's chin so he could peer in the moonlight at his eye. He then turned his head to look at one ear and then the other. There was no bleeding or signs of extreme redness at least. Theo was no healer and he couldn't determine what was wrong beyond a basic visual assessment. The fact that he was the problem never even crossed his mind.
"My poor friend. What have I caused to happen to you?"
He stopped. Allowed the inspection, despite still not understanding his friend. He averted his eye to the side and worked his jaw and tried desperately to hold it all in as Theo's tenderness threatened to draw it out of him. Another tear welled. His face began to contort, his brow to twitch. He blinked it back and clenched his cut hand and used the pain as a ward against this building storm within him.
"Wrong language, Theo," he managed. "I'm fine. I'll be fine. Let's just...let's just go. Please. There's so much left to do."
He rubbed a smear off still wet blood from the man's chin with his thumb before nodding and tugging the coat more firmly on Fletcher's shoulders and walking to catch up to the others. The rest of the journey home was a blur for Theo. He felt the path change from dirt to pebble but otherwise did not even register they were there until he was suddenly stopping in the shelter of the stables. He blinked slowly as if seeing the place for the first time and stepped back out of the way as the other men barked orders to each other.
It was Niles who took charge of the group. Dewey who had come out at the commotion was instructed to ride and collect the healer while Bartrand stayed behind to guard the grounds and watch over Ashley's body. Nile's himself would ride back to the Baron and gather Tiffany.
"Jack...Jack!" Niles called from up on his horse. "Get Master Theodore inside and upstairs. Check his rooms before you let him get cleaned up. Both of them. Can you do that?"
He didn't remember the rest of the walk: not Theo, not his throbbing wounds, not the frigid air. Just that singular focus on Ash's head as it moved back and forth, back and forth with the horse's every step. He couldn't recall the guards at the door running out to help, or where they'd laid Ash's body, or how they'd gotten to the stable. When Niles called to him, he registered it only faintly. Yes, he nodded, dead-eyed and quiet. That was his job. Secure the house. Keep Theo safe.
Okay. Alright.
Hold it together. Just hold it together. Just hold it together, just—
He led Theo to the door. Touched a guard on the arm as he passed. Instructed a full sweep of the house. Continued in.
Up the stairs.
Hold it together. Just hold it together. Just hold it together, just—
Down the hall.
Hold it together. Just hold it together. Just hold it together, just—
Opened the door and checked every corner of Theo's room. Under the bed. In the closet. The balconies. The bathroom, too. He returned to the threshold then and beckoned Theo in. His throat was too tight to speak, and the storm was so close to breaking free now, but he had to hold it together for Theo's sake, and he did. But he was breaking. He could feel it coming.
Hold it together. Just hold it together.
Theo moved like a puppet to Fletcher's strings. No questions. No resistance. Complete obedience. When he was pushed to stop, he stopped. When he was ushered in, he trusted it was safe and entered.
Fletcher looked terrible. Perhaps it was the blood loss or perhaps it was something more. Theo wanted nothing more than to hug the man, to cling to him, to feel his warmth, his breath, his heart beat against his own and know him to be alive and well. Instead all he could manage was to touch his good arm, offering a light squeeze of comfort before using the same hand he used to sign 'thank you.
'Go rest. I'll be good. I'll stay,' he told his bodyguard, not trusting that if he spoke aloud, that he'd be understood. Without waiting for an answer either, Theo moved further into the room and collapsed into a chair, irreparably staining the embroidered cushions in the process.
Even past that growing turmoil, he winced as Theo acted like a beaten dog. He'd be good. He'd stay. These were the least of Fletcher's concerns after all that they'd just been through. Theo's grasp, though, pulled the storm forth like poison from a wound, and suddenly it was here, and it was too much to bear. He had to get out. He had to do this somewhere else.
Without so much as nodding, he left. He opened his own door and closed it behind him. His hand slid from the handle without bothering to lock it. Like a phantom he moved, silently and carefully, until he reached the whiskey bottle that he'd left atop the dresser. He grabbed the glass. It shook in his hand, and the bottle did, too, but he poured himself a measure and he drank it down and it burned against his crushed throat.
He had another. And another. And on the fourth one, he stopped and stared at the glass.
Ash's face rose to fill the dead silence. Ash, who had argued with him. Ash, who had called him a prick. Ash, who had laughed as he bummed a smoke. The arrow hit over and over and over, and each time his fingers tightened against the glass, and now it was all here and bursting free from him. He bellowed as every moment of that day, that month, these past two years came crashing through all at once. The glass flew and smashed against the wall. Then the bottle, too, in a rain of shards and whiskey that spattered the room and seared the cut in his hand. Then his chair hit the nanny door hard enough to break the latch and throw it open, and then he was down, collapsed to the floor and curled around himself, and he drew breath and sobbed like he hadn't in years.
It had finally caught up to him.
One moment Theo was sitting quiet and blank-faced and then suddenly the room next door was shaking and the door was bursting open violently. He scuttled to his feet, backing away from the door in panic prepared for another fight. But, when nothing came flying out of Fletcher's room, he cautiously tiptoed to peer in. The sight that met him though broke his heart into a million pieces.
Without any hesitation, the nobleman strode into the room and knelt down in the glass to cover and wrap his arms around Fletcher. One of the guards burst through Fletcher's door soon after, ready to fight whatever demons had come back for more, only to be waved off by the nobleman who refused to let go of his bodyguard.
He let him cry for a few moments rubbing his back soothingly before gently tugging at him in an attempt to get him up in hopes of pulling him out of the glass and into his own room where it was less of a hazard. "Jack, let's get you up and cleaned up. It's not safe for you right here," Theo spoke slow and soft with no sudden movements.
How long did he lay there on that bed of shards? Minutes? Hours? Someone came to him. Held him. Tried to comfort him. And there were sounds, voices, but...for so long, it was just that blurred stretch of floorboards and specks of dirt, puddles of whiskey and pieces of bottle, and beyond, his packed bag tucked in the shadows beneath the bedframe. It had been so long since he'd truly cried, but now he cried like a child, until he'd spent his last tear and lay quiet on the floor. And still he didn't move.
"I can't do this anymore," he said at last.
When it became obvious that Fletcher was not going to budge, Theo settled in among the broken shards of glass and chair and just waited as a quiet sentinel. He did nothing to rush the other man along or force him to stop. On the contrary he continued to rub the man's back and offered intermittent squeezes. The knife that he had been holding all this time since the moment Fletcher handed it to him was carefully and quietly released and slid out of the way.
The movement however as it shot towards the bed caused another item to catch the nobleman's attention. Just under the bed, tucked in by the corner and just out of sight had Theo not been sitting just right on the floor was a clearly packed bag.
I can't do this anymore.
The words that Theo could not hear rang in his head as clear as a tuning fork. Fletcher was leaving him. It was to be expected. This wasn't what the man had signed up for. Their earlier argument in the garden aside, things had not been well in months, had only gotten worse in the last few weeks. And now he had had to fight for Theo's life instead of keep away imaginary monsters.
He nodded faintly and patted Fletcher's back. "Okay. Okay, you don't have to. You've done enough, Jack. I won't ask any more of you. You've done enough. We're going to get you cleaned up, have the healer look at you, and then tomorrow in the morning you can leave. Will you come with me for a moment now? Let me help you right now, please?"
Leave?
He'd said nothing about...oh. The bag. Theo had seen the bag. And yet right now, for some reason, leaving was the last thing on his mind. He'd forgotten his own plans. Yes, the words had slipped from him before he knew what they meant. But he knew that he hadn't meant that.
Fletch rose to lean against the bed, glass pressed into his tear-streaked face, his arm, his hand. He sat like that for a few moments as though willing himself to do more. At last he managed to get to his feet. He wouldn't meet Theo's eyes. Couldn't meet Theo's eyes. Not with the sheer mess he'd made of everything. But he nodded and allowed that gentle man to guide him into the other room. As they walked, he slid his cut hand into his pocket, groaning as the wound brushed fabric, and withdrew his cigarette case. He pulled one with trembling fingers and lit it without a care for the fact that they were inside. In light of all that had happened, what did it matter anymore?
As his bodyguard sat up, Theo worked diligently to brush the broken glass shards off him wherever he could find them. Only then did he escort him back through Theo's room and into the bathroom where he nudged him to sit on the edge of the tub. He did not even stop the man as he lit a cigarette and sought comfort in the smoke. What did any of it matter? Fletcher would be leaving soon. His mother could rage all she wanted at this point.
Theo wet a cloth with warm water and began the arduous task of cleaning Fletcher up. First, was his face, removing the eyepatch, the tears, and the blood that had already begun to dry. Then, down his neck and just inside the shoulder of his shirt. He tugged at the bodyguard's tunic, removing it as carefully as he could to not tug on his wounds too much. The cloth was rinsed out and Theo tutted softly to see how horribly Fletcher was actually injured.
Over and over he worked to carefully clean his skin and access how much of the blood was actually his and fresh versus others's and old. The water in the tub beside them turned pink then red the more he cleaned but he was too focused on his task to allow a single speck of blood to go unnoticed.
"Oh Jack," he breathed once he finally caught sight of the slice on his hand. "I'm so sorry." Theo got up and collected some fresh bandaging left over from his broken hand and worked to wrap it around the man's hand and shoulder. "Are there more injuries?"
He faded out of focus again. It was the gentleness that did it. The care. This felt so raw and new, and yet at the same time, it tugged at a very old thread. He went numb, and number still, until he'd drifted away on the soft sounds of water and forgotten about the cigarette between his lips. Sometime in between sitting and Theo speaking, his eyepatch had come off, and his shirt, too. He frowned as the man's voice brought him back again.
"What?" he asked, looking up at his friend as though he was truly seeing him for the first time all day. "Oh. I don't...I don't know." His eye flitted from his bare chest, to Theo, to the thin tendril of smoke that snaked between them. "Fuck. Shit. Sorry, I wasn't thinking, I — " He dipped the cigarette in the water and set it down on the edge of the tub. He stood, grunting at how his bruises protested every movement, and glanced around for his shirt. He spotted it, freshly washed and hung to dry. "I wasn't thinking," he repeated. His gaze met Theo's again, and his eye widened as he finally realized how very bad it was. He made to reach out, to run a hand over the man's ruined clothes and seek a wound that would make so much blood, but he stopped himself. Still, the look he gave his friend was nothing short of agony at what he'd caused. "Fuck," he breathed. "Look at you. Theo...is this...are you hurt? Did he hurt you?"
"It's alright," he replied softly, still sitting on the edge of the tub and seemingly unaffected by Fletcher's state of undress and smoking. The bodyguard's shock and horror confused him though and it took him several moments to look down at himself and truly take it all in.
His beautiful clothes painstakingly embroidered and made just for the ball that now seemed months ago were coated in copious amounts of blood and mud. The majority of it was not his blood or even Fletcher's but that of a now dead man. He stared at his hands and the blood still under his nails despite the multiple rinses while rinsing off Fletcher.
"Oh," he exclaimed softly like it was his first time noticing his predicament. "I...no. He didn't or," Theo grunted and winced rubbing at his throat and then hissing as the touch caused him pain. "It's minor. I—I did this. There's so much of it." He stood up looking himself over, his eyes darting about in horror. "There's so much from just one person...I'm sorry I should...I don't know what I should do. Are you alright?"
Fletcher tried to form the words, but none came out. Theo had done this? No. He'd done this. And now Theo would carry it with him for the rest of his life: the burden of another man's blood on his hands. The first time stuck with you like that. He could still remember his, and the nightmare echoes of it. It had changed him forever. His eyes began to burn again, and hot tears welled in his right and leaked in a steady stream from the sunken socket.
"I'm so sorry, Theo," he choked. "I'm so sorry."
He didn't know why he did it. Whether he was still in shock, or out of his mind with grief, or whether that release in his room had truly broken him down to nothing and left him a stranger to himself. All he knew was that the wall was gone. The fortress had crumbled, and without it he was free. He reached forth from its ruins and wrapped his arms around Theo and pulled him close in a tight and trembling embrace. He grunted again as his wounds pulled this way and that and threatened to split back open, but still he held fast. "I should have been better," he whispered to a man who couldn't hear him. "I'm so sorry."
The hug came as a shock and yet Theo could not bring himself to push Fletcher away. His arms wrapped tight around him, crushing him close as he dug the pads of his fingers into the man's bare skin. This was not at all how he had daydreamed of embracing the man, and oh how his thoughts been plagued with it of late.
He sunk into the warmth, the strength, and the security of being held. The gentle rumbles of speech he could feel but not hear were soothing. He clung fiercely to Fletcher, his own tears of guilt and regret flowing without him realizing as he apologized.
"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Jack. This is all my fault. If I had never left, if I had just stayed home and never run into you and did all the things I was supposed to, none of this would have happened to you. You wouldn't be hurt right now. You'd be happier. I've ruined so many people's lives by being such a spoiled little brat. I'm so sorry."
Theo clung tighter and squeezed his eyes fiercely shut against his tears. "He was hurting you and I just couldn't stop. I couldn't get to you sooner and you were hurt because of me. I'm so sorry. I didn't even realize the knife was in my hand. I could have missed and hit you. I was careless and reckless and so fucking stupid. This is all my fault. I care so much and yet all I ever do is get you in trouble and hurt you."
He couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was as though in holding Theo, his own guilt had become Theo's guilt, and now the man spewed forth words that should have been his. He wanted to argue, but where would the sense be in that? And he'd have to pull away for Theo to read him, and...and maybe it meant Fletch was weak, but he couldn't. It wasn't until his mind wandered to all that remained to be done that night before he finally released Theo and held him by his arms just far enough away to bring him into focus. His face contorted briefly as once again, his wounds pushed and pulled and bit at him.
"You saved my life," he managed. "You saved me." He began to add more: a warning that this would unfurl to haunt the man as time went on, like Ash already haunted him. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would. It was too much for right now. So instead he glanced at the privacy screen and tried to remember how long it had been, and how much time they had left. "I'm going to go put a shirt on," he said. "And then let's clean you up before everyone gets back. The last thing either of us needs is that woman screaming at you."
He nodded, releasing a soft, exhausted snort of amusement regarding the Baroness. "No, you're right." And then he was alone again. Theo exhaled in a shuttering breath while rubbing at his chest over his heart. The feel of the damp blood still drying on his clothes brought him back to the present as he gazed down on another man's life-force coating his hand and clothes. His fingers trembled as he tried to work the overly complicated multitude of buttons and ties that made up the ridiculous outfit he'd been made to wear for the ball.
The tears flowed faster as he became more frantic and panicked to try and remove it. He was blind to his surroundings, everything bright and blurred as he sobbed and shook. He'd killed a man. All his training with Fletcher and supposed strengthening of his body had lead to this moment. He had killed a man with his own hands and without even pausing in the moment to think. And now he was covered in it.
His stomach turned and bile rose in his throat that he forced back down. Yet, buried under all of the horror was a very calm kernel of him that understood, accepted, and even stubbornly reaffirmed that if faced with the same situation, Theo would do it all over again. He'd kill again. He'd kill anyone that tried to hurt the people he cared about, whether that was Aneisha, Dewey, Fletcher. Especially Fletcher.
Theo groaned and grabbed the edge of the tub, draining the tub and refilling it with fresh water if only to not have to stare at all the red. He sank to his knees and rest his forehead against the cool edge. Elijah would have been so stressed and upset to see him like this. Elijah was gone though. Niles was hurt. Bertrand was hurt. Fletcher was hurt. Ashley was...dead. Orz was dead. All those other man who had attacked them were dead or left. All of this was because of him. If he had just been obedient and stayed home, got himself married to a pretty girl, stopped being gay then he never would have ruined the lives of all these men. Then he wouldn't have been the epicenter of disaster and destrution.
"I'm a curse."
He pulled his bag out from under the bed, dragging it through glass and whiskey. At some point, he'd need to clean this mess up. He'd need to explain the chair and the damaged door, too, but...that was another thing for later. Fletch loosened the buckles on his bag and turned it unceremoniously out onto his bed, tossing Ven's cloak aside to dig through his few possessions until he found a clean shirt. He tugged it on, and just after it passed his ears, he heard the first sob. There it was. It had taken a moment, but it was here now. He hurried back, making certain to lock his own door first, and to shut the nanny door behind him.
He found Theo on the floor, head leaned against the tub, having drawn fresh water but without the will to clean himself. Okay. Fletch would just have to do for Theo what Theo had done for him. He set a hand to his back to let him know he'd returned, then began to gather what he needed: a blanket, a towel, a clean cloth. A bar of soap nicer than anything he'd ever seen in his life. He set it all down on a stool and then knelt to turn Theo around. "You can sit on the floor," he murmured. "It's alright. Just show me how to take this stupid thing off of you."
Theo flinched at the touch, his head snapping up so fast he banged his chin on the tub in his haste. The tension in his shoulders released though to see a familiar face even through the veil of tears. He scrubbed hard at his face, not realizing he was just making more of a mess of it as he was settled to sit back on the floor. A wheezing, bordering on hysterical, laugh escaped him at Fletcher's seeming frustration.
With clammy, shaking hands he returned to attempting to undo the panels of various closures. He was likely more in Fletcher's way than actually helping but he still managed to point out how each layer was secured crossing this way and that. As each piece of clothing came off, it revealed more and more that Theodore was relatively unharmed and more a victim of proximity than injury. His only real physical injury was the shallow slice across his throat and the much larger spreading burn around it from having come in contact with pure iron.
"I'm sorry, you're always cleaning up my messes." He laughed hollowly again. "At least all that training paid off I guess. I make a questionable damsel in distress."
Fletcher sighed at the sound of Theo blaming himself for this again. He stopped, cloth dunked in the tub, soap stinging his cut through the bandage, and looked briefly and wearily over at his friend. He still didn't have it in him to argue. "You clean up mine, too," he replied instead as he wrung the cloth and sat back down. "Here. Chin up. Let me get your face."
It was tears over blood over whatever they'd made him up with: layers of red and brown stripped away to reveal Theo's pale, freckled cheeks. Fletch balanced the man's chin in one hand as he worked, turning his face this way and that until finally, the blood was gone, and the makeup, too, and what was left was something sad and tired and real. He looked Theo over, ensuring that he hadn't missed a spot. If he had, the Baroness would fuss for hours and neither of them would get a lick of sleep. "It's in your hair, too," he mumbled, brushing an errant strand away from Theo's eyes without a thought for how such a gesture could be taken. "Let's get the rest done and then I'll help you with that. Come on. Up on the tub so I can see the rest of you."
By some miracle, Theo hadn't been seriously hurt. Besides some bruises and singed hair, the worst of it was the nasty cut on his neck. After helping the man clean off the blood that had soaked through his clothes to his skin, Fletch dressed the wound. His expression darkened as he recalled the fight with Orz. As he realized that it had been Orz who'd shot Ashley. "Wish he were alive so I could fucking strangle him myself," he muttered, only half-aware that he'd said it aloud. "Alright. Hair, and then let's get you dressed before they catch me seducing you," he joked dryly. "Sit back down. I can just do this over the tub."
Theo allowed himself to be turned and twisted this way and that. His eyes had dried and stared up at Fletcher with complete trust and emptiness. A grimace marred his features to know it was in his hair but his bodyguard's touch as unintentional as it was caused his eyes to briefly flutter closed and his face to turn slightly to lean into the man's touch.
With a heavy sigh, he dragged himself up onto the tub's edge, shivering at the chill against his skin as he brushed up against it. Fresh tears threatened to race down his cheeks while Fletcher bandaged his wound but not a single sound escaped him as he fought to keep his composure. If only the blade had been made of anything else he would not have to suffer the embarrassment of being so weak. Hazel eyes slid up to meet the other man's single eye as he voiced his regret.
"Sorry," Theo whispered in response before pooling quickly back onto the floor, his neck resting back on the tub's edge. 'I rather you alive though, Jack.'
"Mr.--Ash is dead?"
"You saved my life, Theo," he repeated in a raspy monotone. "You did what needed to be done. There's no shame in it."
He wished Theo hadn't asked what he did. For a long time, he didn't answer. The muscles in his throat and jaw worked as he clenched and ground his teeth and forced back yet more tears. He focused instead on washing the blood from Theo's hair, fingers gliding along the man's scalp as he scrubbed every lock. He poured pitcher after pitcher of warm water until it ran clear. "Here," he said, and fetched the towel and the blanket. Once Theo was bundled up against the chill, he helped him rest against the tub. He set a gentle hand on his arm. "I'm going to let you do the other half. But I'm here. I'll just be finding you some clothes. Call for me if you need me."
He placed his hand over Fletcher's and gave it a squeeze. "Thank you...for everything." Theo gave his hand another squeeze before letting him go. Idly he dried his hair with the towel before stripping the rest of his clothes off and wiping off the worst of the blood that had seeped through the thick fabric. He kicked the discard clothes under the tub not wanting to face the mess and gore in that moment.
His bodyguard hadn't answered him. And yet, the silence had been answer enough. Theo had not imagined it. The man groaned softly as he hung up his towel and burrowed further into his blanket. He didn't want to leave the bathroom and risk the presence of his parents or others. His mother would surely have another of her nervous fits and alternate between flopping about the room and smothering him in her worries. His father...Theo buried the thought deep within himself. The Baron would not be pleased with his only son and would likely hold it against the man as a means to tighten his shackles.
And then there was Fletcher. The man would likely be gone by morning, the end of the week at the latest. Theo tried not to think too hard on it, lest his heart break further. How could the man be so gentle and patient with him when all he did was make his life a living hell? How could he still be so greedy and selfish as to desire him after everything? Why was it after all these years, Theo had still not learned his lesson?
Fresh tears burst forth unbidden. Here he was a thirty-seven year old man needing to be bathed and tended to like a helpless boy while the man charged with his safety who unknowingly held Theo's heart in his grasp cared for him with several untended stab wounds. Could he be any more pathetic? And there he was sobbing like a baby again. How he despised himself. How he wished he had just had a little bit more self-control. How he resented that he could not be content in his golden cage.
By the time he'd returned with soft, clean clothes, the splashing had stopped. Theo must have finished washing. A quiet sniffle came from behind the screen, and Fletch briefly debated the propriety of stepping back in before deciding that, like the cigarette, none of it truly mattered in this moment. The both of them could sort out their feelings on this later, but he wouldn't leave Theo to go through the shock of this alone. He rounded the screen, averting his eye to the side and setting the clothes that he'd found on the floor beside the tub. "Put these on. I won't look," he promised before getting to work wiping any residual blood and soapy water that had splattered the room. "Where'd your fancy clothes go? I'll put them somewhere safe."
The nobleman made a displeased, grumbling sound as he quickly hopped into his clean clothes. The reminder of his old clothes was something he was trying very hard to forget. "I'm decent." Theo cleared his throat while folding the blanket up carefully. "You're going to aggravate your wounds like that, Jack. Why don't you go sit and rest? I'll take care of the...clothes. You've done too much already, far more than I deserve."
He scrubbed at his face. "I'm so...can I trouble you for one more favor? Can you get a fire going please? I'll clean up the class in your room while you do. I'm just absolute shit at it," Theo admitted rubbing at his face more and trying to pick at the bandage around his throat.
Fletcher held his tongue. His first instinct had been to go right back to treating Theo like some incompetent child, to taking control and handling everything, but maybe he'd finally learned his lesson tonight. Whether or not the man was prone to fits of emotion, he was not incompetent and he was not a child. He'd taken care of himself in the fight, and before that, he'd played a perfect game to secure Elijah's protection once and for all. He could decide for himself. Fletch wouldn't tell him not to. Not exactly.
"I know my own limits. You'll have to trust me on that. And you don't need to clean up after me," he replied as he retrieved his eyepatch and stretched it back over his head. It was cool and damp against his skin, though whether it was from tears or Theo washing it, he didn't know. He returned his poignant gaze to the nobleman. "But...being busy helps with this. I know. So do what you need to. I'll go make a fire. 'S a good idea anyways, I'll have to air the bloody room out from smoking."
He got to work building the fire, and shortly, it was crackling away. Then he opened the balcony doors and let the frigid air sweep through the room and up the chimney, pulling with it as much evidence of his smoking as he could — and with it, any warmth. When Fletcher closed them again, he was shaking, and he hurried into his room for his coat.
"I can respect that," Theo replied, nodding his head as Fletcher defended the man's desire to keep busy and useful. He slunk out of the room and into Fletcher's to begin sweeping up as best as he could without a broom. The broken chair pieces were tossed into the tiny fireplace while the glass was pushed into a corner. The whiskey was soaked up with a towel and then it felt like there was still so much time for Theo to be left with his own mind and the thought frightened him terribly.
He turned to the bag and its contents scattered all over the bed. Theo recognized Ven's cloak and after checking his hands for debris or blood, carefully refolded it and tucked it back into the bag. Then one by one the other things followed until everything was carefully tucked back in where it belonged. And again he found himself unsure what to do.
His gaze slid to the floor when he remembered whose room it used to be long before it was Fletcher's. Without thinking on it beyond impulse, Theodore grabbed the bed frame and dragged it across the floor, it's stuttering movement making all sorts of vibrations beneath his feet. From there he dropped to his knees finding the part of the baseboard where he and Elijah had once covered their initials and then two handwidths to the right the loose floorboard where they had once stowed a precious bottle of elven wine. A light push, up the board went, and out came the pink, dusty bottle.
The first thing he saw was the bed dragged halfway across the floor and Theo on his hands and knees. Again he held his tongue. If Theo wanted to be this thorough about cleaning — if that was what kept his mind quiet — then he'd let the man scrub the whole bloody room. Then he noticed the bag, neatly packed again and ready to go.
Why was that what did it? This reminder that he'd been so ready to turn tail when things got difficult. Because now that he looked at it, and he thought of the mess he would leave behind, it was the very last thing he could bring himself to do. But if he stayed, Theo had to know. He had to be prepared for how bad it would get.
He returned his attention to Theo and was about to speak up about it when the man withdrew a bottle of wine from a hiding place beneath the floorboards. He'd never known him to drink his problems away, but if there were ever a night for it, it was this one. He wondered if the Baron and Baroness would notice that their son had had a few glasses.
Speaking of...they'd likely as not be home soon. Fletcher shivered at that thought and the chill alike, and crossed his room to dig through the bag again. It took him all of two seconds to grow tired of being unable to see into it and he upended it on the bed again. His old coat was at the very bottom. It would have to do for now. He pulled it on and turned back to Theo.
"I'm not leaving," he announced. "Not after this. But there's something you need to know. Doesn't have to be tonight, but...soon."
"Hey!" Theo squawked getting to his feet in protest of Fletcher upending the bag he had just finished repacking for him. The announcement however gave him pause and he settled down quickly enough. The man was not leaving him, not yet at least. Or perhaps it was just said in order to keep him calm given the shock.
"Whenever you feel ready to, I will most certainly listen. I owe that to you and more after my...earlier outburst." Had it really only been a few hours ago when they'd argued, when Theodore had lost his temper in the face of his friend finally deigning to talk to him. And now...now he was sweet, kind, gentle, caring and Theo felt all twisted and vile inside. He felt like a greedy monster all because someone showed him a scrap of care and attention. It was as if he was so desperate for affection that he would do anything to cling to it with both fists. He couldn't care for Fletcher but he'd bask in the man's care as long as he was willing to give it. But, the longer he did, the more he wanted and that was where the true danger lay.
Theo looked down at the floor as his thoughts turned dark again in self-disgust. He froze catching sight of the discard bloody knife he had dropped earlier. His vision narrowed, the edges turning black and fuzzy as everything tunneled in on the weapon. Even his breath froze in his lungs as if breathing too hard would send it back into his hand to be used again.
"You don't owe me anything," Fletch replied patiently. "If we waited until I felt ready to say it, Theo, you'd watch me grow old and die. But it has to — "
He stopped. Theo had frozen, and as Fletcher followed his gaze, he could see why. "No, no, no. Come on, now." He stepped around Theo and retrieved the knife and stowed it in his dresser, kicking the drawer unceremoniously shut to hide the thing. "Stay here in the moment. Stay with me. Come on." Fletch took his friend's hand and led him back through the nanny door to a plush chair by the fire. He helped him into it before finding another blanket and throwing it over the man's shoulders. When he'd seated himself as well, he leaned forward and peered at him.
"You here? You with me?"
He blinked and Theo was back in his room with Fletcher seated close with an intense stare. He blinked again more rapidly and pushed the blanket down some to be more in his lap than around him. The wine bottle was still clutched tightly in his hand and for a moment Theo simply stared down at it before shifting enough to place it on an end table between them.
"I'm here. What were you saying? I wasn't looking, sorry."
He leaned back, satisfied that the episode was over. He wondered, though, how either of them would make it through the night. The endless span of dark and quiet loneliness had a tendency to bring the memories back, and he didn't know whether Theo was ready for them. With enough drink, he might be able to numb them out. Maybe. But not night after night.
"You went away for a little while. Just making sure you stay here." He eyed the bottle. "Did you want a drink? Need help with the cork?"
He nodded slightly. "You...dropped your bottle. I thought you might like this...for the pain. Although..." Theo looked to the door and then back to Fletcher. "Have you heard anyone return? I would have hoped the healer would be here by now. Perhaps he's treating the others first. I'm concerned about infection setting in for you though. I'm not exactly—well not at all actually trained in healing. What good is a pianist in times like this?"
Fletcher's expression turned the slightest bit exasperated. Theo would be right if they didn't have a healer on the way. He'd been betting on one coming. If it was taking this long, though...he sighed and grumbled. "Now, I know you've seen how many times I've been through this. I know what I'm doing. You don't need to fuss so much. But if it'll make you feel any better, I'll take care of it myself if he takes much longer."
Fletcher rubbed at his temple as he contemplated his friend. "He's plenty good," he replied. "You did good today, Theo. In the fight, I mean. Not..." he sighed again and shook his head. A strange chuckle escaped him as if from sheer exhaustion, and his hand slipped further until it covered his eye. "Not putting a ring on that stupid girl, mate. Fuck. I know you've your reasons, and I'm not arguing with them, but...fuck."
"I did what you taught me." He shrugged and observed Fletcher quietly. He looked so worn. After everything that happened he was still trying to take care of Theo when he should have just been dismissed to take care of his own wounds physical and emotional. But, here he was because Theo needed his constant babysitter...and was selfish enough to not want to be alone.
"If not her, then who?" Theo asked softly with another shrug. "My time ran out. And I have more at stake to lose now than ever before. It's one thing when it's just...but now...You don't have to stay. I know you wanted to go before. This, what happened here, it's not your fault. Just proves this isn't really a good place to be around."
The look he had in the garden had begun to creep back again: that desperate anguish that betrayed how he felt, what he wanted. "I don't know. I thought you'd lock down someone sweet and bookish. Someone you could be you around. Not...that." He went quiet for a moment, eye downcast as he willed himself to focus on the things his mind loved to slip around and hide from him.
"I'm not leaving you like this. I'm not abandoning you." He looked up again and gazed at the man in earnest. "I'd have talked myself into it before everything that happened today. I was so convinced it was for the best, Theo. But now... Maybe I make your life a living hell. I know I do. But I can't leave you alone with all of this."
Sounds from the front door. Voices. Hurried footsteps. "Someone's home," he alerted him before rising carefully from the chair. He knew he should go out and meet them in the hall. He hesitated. His eye returned to Theo. There was so much he had to say. "This place is..." He swallowed. Blinked away the pain and bile that rose to the surface. Tried again. "It'll turn me into a monster. It already is, you've seen it. Your dad...he's bringing something out in me that scares me. I'm just going to keep hurting you. And I...and that's the last thing I want."
A series of emotions flickered across his face as Fletcher spoke. Concern. Confusion. A deep understanding given he felt very much the same way. Guilt. Longing. And then the mask slammed back into place. The bottle was quickly moved to the floor and the blanket used to hide it from view. 'Talk later,' he signed as his mother's screeching started to become coherent.
"Where is he?! Where is my baby boy?! TEDDY BEAR?!" The harpy cried, bursting in through the door so fast it nearly hit Fletcher as it flung open. "Oh my baby are you hurt? Are you okay? Oh I knew it was a mistake to go! I shouldn't have let you out of my sight! My baby, my baby!"
Ivory latched onto her son so forcefully, the chair he was sitting in actually rocked. No amount of protests or attempts to extract her from him or reassure her he was fine seemed to work either. It was not long before she was collapsing in his lap because of her 'nerves.'
Tiff entered not long after with the Baron at a far slower pace. Pascal looked over at his wife and son briefly before quickly switching his gaze to Fletcher. "Your man said you were waylaid and that my carriage had come to disrepair? Are you sound enough to debrief me on the situation in my office?"
The second the Baron stepped in, a shadow passed over Fletch, erasing any softness, any concern that he'd shown Theo. That hardened gaze of a merc returned, as did his bitterness, his stiff posture, his gruff monotone. His eye slid away from his friend to focus on a bit of wall just to the right of the man who controlled them both. Was he sound enough? No. He wasn't sound at all. But he had to. And before that, he had to warn Theo of one final thing.
"Yes, sir," he said. "Let me grab something from my room and I'll meet you down there. Tiff. Stay with them, will you? I'll be back." He uttered those final words at his fellow bodyguard, but they were meant for Theo. Then he waited for the Baron to disappear around the corner and signed as fast as he could. 'I killed Orz. Not you. Keep the story straight.' Without so much as a look at the two nobles, he nodded to Tiff, made his way into his own room, did his best to make the nanny door shut all the way, and then headed off for the serpent's den.
His heart pounded in his bruised throat as he approached. He knocked, entered, and closed the door behind him. He sat and faced his father once again.
Theo looked at him like he was daft. It had been too many months now though to assume Fletcher had made a mistake. Especially not when the other sentences just further confirmed he meant it. But, why? Theo was the one that...what was the point of the lie? Was it to protect Fletcher since it was his job to protect Theo and not the other way? Was it to not show weakness on Fletcher's part so he could keep his job? The nobleman could respect that. Whether he stayed or not at least it should be on his terms and not the Baron's. And then Fletcher was gone and Theo was left with his dramatic mother who was fussing over the bandaging at his throat.
Meanwhile downstairs the Baron awaited Fletcher, pouring them both a glass of brandy each as he settled back in his chair. "I'll hand it to you Daw, I wasn't expecting my son to come under actual threat. Shepe mentioned that Orz was to blame for this? Care to elaborate?"
Well. At least it wasn't bourbon this time. He leaned forward and took the glass in his good hand at the cost of twisting the wounds in his shoulder. He grunted softly, mouth contorting from the deep and lancing pain. "Thank you, sir," he said, raising the drink in a perfunctory gesture that yielded another wince.
His mind drifted back to that dark, muddy, bloody fight: the shouting and confusion and the smell of smoke in the cold air. No. He had to focus. Couldn't be like this here, in front of him. "He was there. They laid an ambush. There were...eight of them. Four of us, and then your son, sir. Ashley didn't...he didn't make it." He blinked hard. Suddenly he was grateful for the drink, and, wise or not, he took a sip to steady himself. "We dispatched them, but not before Orz lit the carriage on fire and smoked the young master out. I...he didn't want him dead. I think he meant to take him for ransom, sir."
He came to the conclusion right as it slipped from his mouth, and now his eye narrowed and it darted to and fro. He'd been so focused on Theo's safety that he hadn't paused to think about how this happened at all. And now that he did, there was a part of it that made him fear, genuinely, that it wasn't safe in this house at all. Saying it aloud would mean hell on everyone until this settled. But this wasn't a thing he could afford to sit on. He had to. "Sir," he spoke up again. "Someone knew exactly where he'd be and when. How common was that knowledge to the townsfolk?"
"Quite I imagine. The people of the town benefit from our patronage. It's as much a grand event for us as it is for them who supply and staff it. Clothes to be made, flowers to be arranged, the feminine swill," he dismissed with a wave of his hand and a sip of his drink. "Theodore leaving early though, that was not planned nor could it be predicted. Although in hindsight perhaps it was. All it takes anyone is a glance to know he's broke--"
A knock at the door interrupted the Baron as Kifes's head popped into the doorway. "Apologies sir. The healer is here to see Jack?"
"Can't it wait? We're busy."
"Everyone else has been attended to, sir."
Pascal scowled and drained his drink with a huff. "Send him in I suppose. Quickly!"
The same healer who had been treating Theo's broken hand swept into the room then and looked hesitantly between the two men.
"Well don't just stand there. I'm not paying you by the minute. Treat him. He can talk and sit still for you.
"As I was saying, it's a miracle he even made it through a proposal. But, I'm not holding my breath for a wedding, this isn't his first attempt after all. We had them betrothed, all on paper, decorations bought, date set, dowry agreed upon, and the idiot goes tells her she deserves better. So what does she do? Finds better. It's like he's waiting for his fairytale ending.
"Were they all dispatched then, Daw? Or are there likely more to come back and finish the job?"
"All it takes anyone is a glance to know he's broken."
And whose fault is that? Fletch wanted to say. Instead, he turned to listen to Kifes, though he went clammy and gaunt at the man's mention of a healer. Here? Now? He echoed the Baron's sentiments, although for entirely different reasons. "I'll be fine," he protested, but the very act of turning towards the door had split his shoulder wounds back open again and now a dark stain blossomed through his shirt and coat.
It was the same healer as before, and he nodded to Fletcher in greeting as he entered the room. He tutted at the blood and motioned for Fletch to remove his coat, and, shirt pulled to the side, he got to work. The solution used to flush the wounds reignited the pain and made Fletcher's vision spark, and try as he might, he couldn't help but groan and hiss. He turned back to the Baron and addressed the man through clenched teeth.
"I'm — positive we took them all out," he managed. "And I think Orz was — the one who ordered it. But — just in case — I'd recommend — tightening security." He bit his tongue to keep from uttering a long and colorful string of curses, took a deep breath instead, and continued. "I'll order the perimeter guards to patrol around the house. If it's convenient — sir — I'd say post Tiff or Niles outside your bedchamber door. I'll watch Th— the young master. We can reassess tomorrow."
The Baron seemed completely unbothered by the bodyguard being not only topless but in the middle of a rather delicate procedure. "Shepe is unable to stand so it will have to be Grant. The question is will you even be able to perform your duties in your current state, Daw? I don't doubt your enthusiasm but, the human body can only endure so much. I'd post an extra guard outside his door and one watching his balcony. I'm far more concerned with him...," the man paused to consider the healer before continuing, "getting cold feet than of him being under attack. They'd be fools to come here. Especially if it was Orz and his men, he knows how deeply the Baroness cares for the security of her Theodore."
"Mm." Fletch took up the glass in his cut hand and upended it, hoping the stuff would help to numb the healer's work. He succeeded only in earning an admonishing look, followed by the man's focus shifting to his palm.
Fletcher thought on what the Baron had said. Would he, though? Would Theo commit to something this strongly and then throw it all away the same night? What Fletch had seen was a man freshly traumatized: afraid of his own potential and raw from what he'd done. What was more, the way Theo spoke of Edwina left little room for interpretation. He meant to go through with this. He was resigned to it.
The last thing that Fletch wanted was more people breathing down Theo's neck about what had happened. His friend needed rest and someone there who understood what it was to kill and survive. He regarded the Baron, wincing at the flushing and poking and prodding. How did he even make himself say what he needed to? The thought turned his stomach. But he felt compelled to protect Theo, so he reached and drew deep from the well of ugliness that the Baron evoked in him.
"Begging your pardon, sir. You know your son better than I do, but...he's not like you or me. He's...fragile. He sees blood and death, it breaks him. And there was no shortage of it in the ambush. All I see is a broken man who won't bother to feed himself, let alone do that. I don't think he's going to. Not right now." He tilted his chin up as though affronted by the idea that he wasn't fit for duty. "I know my own limits. These were scratches, sir, and I'd assumed a late shift anyways. I can keep an eye on him."
The man hummed and nodded his head. "True. Very true. I suppose that's your polite way of saying he passed out or tried to run like a coward. You mentioned they made an attempt at ransoming him? He was smoked out and tried to run probably right into them? What's even the point of letting you spar with him when he can't even manage to not make a fool of himself?"
The Baron shook his head with a huff. "More brandy? Or bourbon perhaps? Something to take the edge off those uh," he grinned in amusement, "scratches? Do as you see fit. I trust your judgement on this, Daw. Just don't make me regret it."
He was too tired, too numb to want to argue with the vicious little man about any of it. What he'd said wasn't polite at all. It was horrid, and he'd hated hearing the words leave him. He wished that he could tell this shitheel nobleman just how brave his son had been, but this was the game. Keep Theo's potential a secret. Play into what these people expected of the both of them.
"Thank you, sir. Normally I would, but...it'll be a long night and I'd best stay alert. If there's nothing else...?"
With a few strong words of advice and a jar of salve from the healer, he left at last, and as he closed the door, a long, hissing breath left his nostrils. Still, he was tense all the way up the stairs and up to Theo's door, where he knocked before he entered. It was suspiciously quiet. Had the Baroness left? He hoped desperately that the answer was yes, for Theo's sake as much as his.
In Fletcher's absence, Theo had been poked, prodded, regaled, questioned, cajoled, praised, admonished, and dismissed. The healer had determined the cut was not worrisome although the burn was and would require treating further. His hand was also reinjured although not broken, so the nobleman would be required to still rest it.
With everyone finally gone though he was left alone with nothing but the fire and his thoughts. His long legs stretched out before him as he snuggled deeper into the blanket Fletcher had bundled him up with. Briefly the thought of wishing it was Fletcher instead of the blanket he was snuggled up with flitted through his mind but just as quickly as it arrived, it floated away.
He was just so tired. The longer he stared at the flames the more they reminded him of earlier. The heat that had felt like it would sear his skin off right then and there. The smoke that still hours later made his throat feel raw and irritated. His eyes stung again although whether it was at the memory of smoke or further grief, Theo could not say. He looked to his hands and could still see the blood on them.
Blood.
He remembered the clothes still shoved under the bathtub and dragged himself back to his feet. His body protested far more than expected. Every bone, every muscle, every inch of his skin ached with so little effort. Had the evening truly been that tiring? It was hard to say. But still his body screamed as he dug out the clothes and carried them back to the fire. So preoccupied with what he was doing, Theo did not even catch Fletcher's entrance as he instead violently kicked away the fire guard with a loud bang so that he could chuck the ruined clothes in to burn.
It took him a few seconds to understand what it was that Theo was doing. "Huh. Guess that's one way to make it go away," he muttered, still stern and severe from his conversation with the Baron. "Right. Well. That's going to stink, so...I hope you like being cold." He crossed the room to the balcony door and opened it back up, then turned to get a better look at Theo. He was a stark contrast from what he'd been moments earlier in this very room. "Healer says I'm to put this on your cut to stop the...er...reaction."
He may have missed what Fletcher said but he felt the floorboards move and turned with a startled jump as the other man began to air out the room. Recognizing him and understanding what he was doing, Theo nodded tiredly. They certainly didn't need any more interruptions; he could only imagine how exhausted Fletcher must feel when he himself felt like standing was going to be the death of him.
He nodded again. "I'm not going to fight you on this one," he replied his voice sounding lower and a bit strained. "I can do it myself after tonight but," Theo sighed and paused while he began unwinding and unwinding and unwinding the bandaging at his throat that his mother had clearly gone overkill with. "I'm just tired."
Theo sat on the edge of the bed with his chin up and head back to allow Fletcher to help. The reaction which had been mild to begin with had continued to worsen in their time apart. The area it covered had doubled in size and begun to blister. It was a deep, angry red in the center with concerning greying edges all along the border of its expansion. The original contact sight was a swollen ring above the secondary swollen area where the skin was continuing to worsen. The pressure of the damaged skin on his small cut had also further pulled the skin and deepened the wound as the sides of it struggled to heal and knit themselves back together.
"I'm sorry you had to talk to him alone again."
Fletch nodded and closed the balcony again. He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered as he made for the fire, where the last scrap of fop costume had just ignited and now sizzled and curled into char. He got to work tending it and stacking the wood in the way Ven had shown him, and soon the fire was roaring again. Only then did he drag in the washroom stool and sit down by the edge of the bed to help Theo with his wound.
A hiss shot between his teeth as he grimaced at how bad it had become. He balanced his hands on Theo's collarbone, supported the man's chin with his fingertips, and gently turned his head aside. "Glad someone had the good sense to call a healer," he murmured as he began to salve and dress the wound properly. When it was done, he set the jar on the table, wiped his fingers on a cloth, and leaned away, absently rubbing at his own bandaged hand.
"It's fine. It's done, now. Talked him down off yet more bollocks noose tightening." Fletch scowled at the thought, then added a thing he shouldn't have. "Wish he'd been there so we could all conveniently forget to rescue him, the absolute wankstain." He shook his head as he remembered the opportunistic strike the Baron had tried to make by relieving Theo of any and all privacy...and of what he'd proposed instead. He cleared his throat, and even that felt like acid and sandpaper. He winced before continuing.
"Erm. I did promise him I'd keep an eye on you tonight. It's up to you, but...it's not the worst idea." He peered over at Theo, expression softening as the bricks fell again one by one and left him a melancholy old man. "If you've never been through this before, you should know that it'll be back a few times to bite you. Sleep's not going to be easy. It...helps to have someone there when you wake up from it."
A short, pained whine escaped him unbidden at the first touch but Theo lifted his chin higher still to allow for better access and so as to not shy away. His face contorted in deep pain but not a single complaint escaped even though his eyes watered once more.
Once it was done he cleared his throat painfully and gently patted Fletcher's uninjured shoulder. "I'm sure he'd have held his own far better than me. Father used to be a champion fencer." Theo snorted but failed to remove his hand, although whether that was to offer or accept comfort was indeterminate.
"I'd like it very much if you stayed. If it's not too much for you. I don't like the idea of you being alone after all this either. You've gone through so much for me..."
"Are there more guards and shifts or are you cursed to be stuck with me all night?" He teased softly with warm, tired eyes. 'Is it safe for us to simply be,' his question seemed to ask.
Oh. Was that what he'd been doing? Because now that Theo said it, he knew the man was right: he dreaded being alone with this, too. He knew full well that if he laid there on his bed in his room, shut in and isolated by those same four walls, that Ash would come back to him again and again to be struck by that arrow. That he wouldn't sleep. Well. He wouldn't be able to sleep in Theo's room, either. Not in that same chair that left his back aching and his neck stiff. But selfishly, he could still use the company.
"I'll stay, then," he replied. "And — no. I've a man posted outside your door, but I talked your dad out of putting a second one on the balcony. It's just me. I'm your jailor for the night." He gently removed Theo's hand from his shoulder and rose to his feet. After returning the stool from where he'd fetched it, he approached the fire again and slumped into one of the chairs there to warm up.
"Then that's settled. We can sit and wait for the dawn to drive out the shadows," he murmured while getting to his feet. Theo grabbed the heavy blankets off his bed and dragged them over to the fire along with his pillows. One of each he offered to Fletcher but the rest were used to make a nest for himself on the floor without a single care for the propriety of it all.
Bundled up and leaning back against the chair, he finally settled and loosed a deep exhale as if casting out with it everything he had endured that day and night. The fire cast shadows upon them both but was warm and comforting now that Theo wasn't alone. It was as if Fletcher was his tether keeping him afloat in the turbulent waters that was his own mind.
"Earlier we were interrupted from talking further. Do you feel able to continue that conversation now or would you prefer lighter things? Or nothing at all?"
Fletch considered him before returning his gaze to the fire. True, he'd stopped because they were interrupted. But more than that, he hadn't wanted to delve too deeply on the subject, for both of their sakes. Still, he owed Theo the truth of both cancers that festered in him. The third — what he'd come to realize earlier that very day — would stay buried. He wouldn't complicate things like that.
"A little of one pain to ease the other?" he replied. "Sure. But...let me..." With great effort, he heaved himself back out of the chair, broadened the crack in the nanny door, and slipped into his own room to find his dirty, bloodied, ruined coat. Shortly, he returned with a flask in hand and settled back down again. He'd gone through most of its contents at the ball earlier, and as he fiddled with the lid, the thousand little cuts of that evening came back to him one by one.
"You're very good at it," he said quietly. "The game. Pretending. I've never seen you like that. The whole thing was...impressive, really." He tilted his head back and took a deep draught and set the flask aside, then met Theo's gaze. Already, he could feel every memory of his father scurrying away like cockroaches to the shadows. He would still try, though, to explain. "When I was a boy," he began, "my dad sniffed it out in me before I even knew what it was. The...tendency toward other boys. He saw it as weakness. An aberration. A threat to his own standing as a businessman. He was mean from the day I was born, mind. He'd box my ears and go after me with the belt. But once he realized what I was, it got worse. Much worse. Until finally, I up and left. Ran with smugglers — that wasn't a lie, by the way — got in trouble, came crawling back, only for him to make a cage around me and beat me harder. And that cage stayed there for years. The ship was my prison. I was never safe on it. It only ended when Ven dragged me into something bigger and more important by sheer, dumb luck."
He paused. Took another drink. Pushed the icy fear aside. Continued. "Yours is the spitting image of mine, Theo. He plays the same games. Tests you every day, every hour for weakness. Gets off to hurting his prisoners. Tries to break you so he can feel more like a man. This is the ship again. I'm...I'm trapped. And all I know to do is get tough, and get mean, and be something that he can't worm his fingers into."
His chest was tight, now, and he closed his eye and took a breath and let it out in one long and shuddering exhale. He was quiet, then. When he opened his eye, he'd gone distant, and his gaze rested on the fire once again. "Anything soft is a threat," he murmured. "Anything that pulls that armor away. I can't do both. You know? I can't...I can't survive this and be what I know you want from me."
"I'm sorry," he replied finally. "Truthfully I wish you had never seen it. It's not...me. It's not how I want to be seen by...Just because it is my cage doesn't mean it has to be yours—and don't get fussed with me. I know you said you're staying. I heard you. I understand. But truthfully the only thing I want from you is your happiness. I want you to be free, to not feel obligated to me, to want..."
He trailed off and looked down at his hands for a moment. "I stay in a cage I could be free of because I care too deeply and too much. Father is much like yours and nothing like yours. When I lost my hearing it was like I lost all value. I don't know if he knew of my inclinations. I certainly didn't. It wasn't something we ever spoke of. But, I was...foolish and I kissed Elijah. And my father saw. We tried to run away and...that worked out so well.
"To keep Elijah safe, I stay. But, it has not been just for him in a very long time. It's Dewey, and Kifes, Kenna, Tiffany, Bertrand, Niles, my students, Aneisha, and....you. Especially...Every person I care for is one more person I can lose. And I know it's greedy and it's selfish and I'm so privileged and spoiled but I don't want to give any of them up. I don't want to be alone again."
His breathing was rough and he had to pause to lick his lips before looking up and continuing. "I thought could be. I thought I could be a passenger in my own existence, be quiet and content with what I had and never dare want for more but, I am weak and I can't.
"But, I also know I want for too much. So I won't force you to leave, but I can't ask you to stay. I can't ask you to tear yourself apart for me because I am not quite that cruel. I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."
'...to fall in love with you.'
The way he said it gave Fletcher pause, but he listened intently nonetheless. This felt like...what did it remind him of? Like that time in the alley when Theo had gotten high off a thrill and kissed him. Like the night he'd fallen asleep on Theo's bed and held the man in his arms and woken up unable to shake his thoughts of it. It was another line blurred between friendship and something else. Or was that just what he wanted to hear? Having realized what he'd been running from for so long, was he now just looking for anything to misconstrue into a sign?
No. Theo had a man, he reminded himself again. He wouldn't complicate things. Neither of them needed that. "I'm not leaving," he repeated. "I couldn't live with myself for making this mess and getting a man k— ...killed...and then just abandoning it all. Theo, if I hadn't dragged you out that night, none of this would have happened. Ash would still be alive, and...and maybe you would have backed off from this thing with the Edwina girl, and...I'm not leaving. So stop saying it."
He leaned forward and cupped his face in his hands and ran them habitually over his hair, wincing yet again at his wounds. "There's one more thing. And it's not for tonight. But...I don't want you sitting there thinking I'm being horrid without a reason." He looked back over at his friend. "There's something coming. Mid-winter. It was bad last year. With your dad and all, it'll be worse, I think. I'm trying not to throw any of it at you, but..." Fletcher sighed. "But it might come out like that anyways."
A soft disagreeing huff of a chuckle escaped him without him meaning to. "No, Jack. Respectfully it isn't your fault. And you haven't made a mess. Quite the opposite in fact. You've kept me sane and brought some life back into my existence.
"It's my fault. I was the one that got you dragged into my life. If you hadn't met me, you wouldn't have gotten into trouble, you wouldn't have hired more people, you wouldn't have been attacked, and you wouldn't have lost one of your men who died ultimately in defense of me. You can grieve and hurt and rage and stay and, and, and but the guilt is squarely on my shoulders and I will not let you take that one.
"As for the other," he nodded his head but held Fletcher's gaze to show his seriousness, "I will brace to expect it and not hold it against you on the condition that when it passes, because I assume it will, you'll come back, like the seasons always do."
Would he? He had come back from it a year ago, but...under the Baron's thumb, it was different, now. And he'd started drinking again. And another man had just died a preventable death right in front of him, and...and how ironic would it be, he realized, if he did the very thing that he now cursed Ven's name for? If he broke so badly that in the end, he couldn't be glued back together, and he was never the same again? Could he do what Theo asked of him?
"I hope you're right," he said, afraid to promise a thing that he didn't know. He shook his head slowly, exasperated that Theo insisted on blaming himself for all of it. "Maybe we're both at fault," he conceded, fully aware that the nobleman would win this through sheer stubbornness. "It's not all on you, either. You know that. We all got complacent. Anywhere we were hit, we wouldn't have been ready for it. I thought that by doing some training with you, and hiring men I could trust, I'd patched the holes, but..."
Fletch slumped further into his chair: a sad, defeated, broken man, now weighed down by whiskey. "It wasn't enough. It'll never be enough. Someone'll always get caught in the crossfire. Paying for my mistakes. Should have been me."
Theo looked a bit amused but conceded. Neither was going to budge on this; they were both a pair of stubborn mules. "Jack we were never supposed to be under threat to begin with. You were hired and they were hired to ensure no I'kanans could steal me as a slave or spouse or whatever it is they do to pretty boys like me. And you were hired to see that I behaved. A disgruntled employee that I got fired was never on that list. This isn't...," he paused and hesitated, softening his voice to be gentler.
"This isn't the war anymore. The threats you've endured...that's not here. There wasn't a way to expect this. Plenty of people get fired. If not then he would have some other time. And he still would have blamed me because of any number of reasons real and imagined.
"...I know you have suffered levels of hell I can't even imagine or ever know. It's written in the shadows of your face, in your scars, in the way you hold yourself tall and tensed and ready to snap into action under the pressure of it all. But, most days that is not how it is here. Tonight was...a very, very unfortunate incident. But not a norm. You didn't make a mistake here. And...had it been you, it also would have been me. You all did your job as best as you could and I'm so, so very sorry."
Theo dragged his knees into his chest and rested his chin on them looking utterly miserable. "You saved my life. You're always fighting for me even when I have long since given up. I feel all I do is take and take and take and you bear all the burdens of a cage I made. That is not how any relationship let alone friendship should be. It's not healthy and it's not fair."
He sighed and shook his head. "Do you want more to drink?" Theo dragged the bottle back out and dusted it off. The contents swirled in a mesmerizing way within the bottle as he stared down at it. Bitterness crossed his features and then he was breaking the wax seal and working the cork out. "I'm done waiting for a reason."
The more Theo spoke, the further out he drew the poison. Fletcher's jaw began to work and he pressed his lips together in a thin line. His brow twitched, furrowing and knitting, the firelight drawing lines through every deep crease that formed. What Theo said was true. It wasn't war. It wasn't revolution. It was a quiet house in a quiet corner of a quiet country. There were no regular threats on their lives. So why was it that this place felt so much worse?
Fletch chuckled and pulled the eyepatch off and tossed it carelessly on the floor. He leaned forward to wipe his tears away on his sleeve before bestowing his friend with a wry and incredulous smile. "Would you stop doing that?" he joked. "Bloody hell. Nobody does it like you do. You're dangerous, making a grown man cry like this." He wouldn't say the rest of it: that of course he fought for Theo, because he cared for the man in a way that he'd done for very few.
"In war, I know what to do. On the streets, I know what to do. Even when it was peaceful, having that problem of a man to take care of gave me a thing to do. It's easier to keep holding it together when there's always something that needs doing. Fights that need fighting. Here...I'm a bit useless. Today being the only real exception."
Fletch eyed the bottle. "You'd best keep it," he said. "Unless it packs more of a punch than it looks, I'm afraid wine's a bit wasted on me now. And you'll want something to shut your mind up again when the memories wake you tonight."
"Much stronger than it looks," he commented with an amused smirk. Theo took a healthy swig of it, his face screwing up involuntarily as bitter and sweet and something entirely foreign danced on his tongue in little electrifying shocks. He held it out in offering all the same.
"I don't do it on purpose. But then, this isn't a war or the streets either. Jack if you want to be useful then perhaps it's time to find how to live outside of high alert and crisis mode? I mean unless you want to go back to living that way. Just that there is a place for you here where you are welcome and far from useless. I think maybe you just need to see yourself differently. You're not a solider here but, you are a friend. You protect us. You teach us and share with us. You are an amazing older brother figure to Aneisha who was incredibly homesick and miserable behind her smiles before you. You keep me safe both from the lesser outside threats and the harsher inside ones. You don't have to fight forever you know. In fact...I worry you can't."
This time, he took what was offered, though he ended up regretting it. "Eugh," he sputtered, his face contorted by equal parts astonishment and disgust. "No. Nope. That's all yours, pretty boy, I'm not touching it." He waggled the bottle for Theo to take back. "Bottom shelf is better going down than whatever that was." As the man went on, however, his humor left him. His expression turned guarded, and his ears rang, and halfway through it he stopped hearing what Theo was saying altogether. By the time he was done, Fletch was back behind the wall again, and if Theo looked closely enough, he'd catch a glint of fear in the merc's eye.
"Can we...can we not do this?" he replied with a hint of annoyance. "Don't do this. Not after everything today."
Theo nodded once, recognizing he had pushed too far and Fletcher was already very, very raw with everything. He took the bottle back and took several deep pulls as if dying of thirst and it was the only thing that could quench it. When he finished he sloshed the liquid back and forth just to see it swirl.
"You know we were going to drink this to celebrate my swimming in the ocean first time? Or my first time leaving the country. My first time flying on a dragon," he laughed incredulously and took a smaller sip. "Or trying to lie too close to a griffon rookery and finding my tongue against speaking anything but truth."
He set it aside and adjusted the blankets and pillows around him just to have something to do. "A lot of firsts for one little bottle." Scooping up the eyepatch, Theo rubbed his thumb over the surface finding comfort in the worn smoothness of use. "You know I'm going to be really pissed off if I've punished myself with all of this and he's not out there happy."
Slowly but surely, Fletcher relaxed again. In time, he could hear Theo's words and find something other than a threat in them. He was talking about Elijah, he realized. About their plans for the future: plans that never materialized. Theo sounded so certain that they were just the fantasies of a foolish young man. That his future was closed off to him entirely. Fletch still refused to believe that — maybe just like Theo refused to believe that Fletch would always be more at home fighting than at peace.
At the last thing Theo said, though, he cocked his head and frowned. "I thought...I always assumed you were waiting for him. That he'd been planning, you know, all this time. Finding a way to get you out so you could be together. That was my first thought at the ball. That he was in on it, somehow." His frown deepened, and yet he hadn't looked so peculiarly, singularly focused all evening. "D'you mean to tell me he's just...gone?"
A dark cloud fell over his eyes the more Fletcher questioned his past. Eventually he had to jerk his head away to keep the tears once more at bay, his eyes shifting unable to focus on any one point as he battled his own emotions.
"No," he spoke with deep finality, his voice detached and emotionless as if discussing agriculture rather than his broken heart. "I set him free. I've not heard or seen anything of him since we parted fifteen years ago. My deal was that there would be no contact, his livelihood and reputation would remain intact, and in exchange I would do everything expected of me and not so much as make a whisper of a ripple let alone a wave."
He took another liberal pull of the bottle. "I have no idea what's happened to him, where he is, or how he's doing. I can only hope he's found someone who loves him as much as he obsesses over them, that all his dreams came true, and that at the end of the day he's happy even kept under the watchful thumb of my father."
Now he was the one who'd dug too far, and anything he wanted to say to the man now seemed hollow. Maybe Elijah wasn't in the picture anymore, but Theo's heart was clearly still with him. Much as he'd had a faint flicker of...what had that been? Hope? Interest? Fletch would respect what he'd just heard. He'd leave it alone, even if what he'd heard was that Elijah could be so easily bought and convinced to seek a better life away from a man he purported to love. That, Fletch couldn't comprehend. How had Theo fallen for someone so...weak?
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I shouldn't have gone there. Won't happen again." He watched Theo regretfully for a moment before deciding that the man needed some privacy. Or at least, to be away from someone like him. He stood stiffly and added another log to the fire, then made his way towards the balcony without another word, digging for a smoke as he went.
"No, you're fine," Theo called after him. Still though he took the space granted to him and tried to process his own emotions. He had been skirting around thinking about Elijah for months now and not in the way he usually did. Resentment and anger simmered and swirled in the bottom of his belly like a poison that needed to be bled out. Fifteen years and he didn't know if the other man ever gave him a second thought. Theo had known about the man's fae nature, of the fine line between care and obsession that his bloodline had held. But, if Elijah had truly cared that much then why hadn't he fought for Theo? Why wasn't he tilting at windmills over with his undying love where all he could think about was returning to his man's side?
He buried the thoughts, too uncomfortable with facing that anger and depression tonight. He'd already endured so much. Theo didn't need Elijah plaguing his dreams on top of everything.
With a huff he tossed the blankets away and slid out onto the balcony after Fletcher, after the soothing balm to his cracking facade. Without a word, Theo plucked the cigarette out of the other man's mouth and took a deep, practiced drag. He blew the smoke slowly up into the air after a moment and leaned back against the railing, showing no signs of that had been his first time smoking.
"You did nothing wrong," he reiterated. "My displeasure is not with you. I didn't mean for it to bleed through and end up stinging you. I just...for all my books and my softness I am...disenchanted perhaps? Or maybe it's just this moment when everything is confusing. I don't know.
"But, no to answer your earlier question, we are not in cahoots over anything and that door closed a long time ago. I mean," he scoffed, "perhaps I'm naive and stupid, I'm sure there are plenty of people who would give anything to have their loved ones back no matter the years they'd been lost to them, but I don't think there's a single thing he could do or say at this point that could rekindle our flame. I drowned it in too many tears over too many years at this point." He shook his head. "Sorry."
Theo's footsteps told him he'd followed. Alright. Maybe he'd been wrong to assume. He didn't mind the company either way, but what he wasn't prepared for was to lose the reason he'd come out here in the first damned place. "Oi," he admonished. Then he watched Theo take a drag, and his expression softened. "Huh. Called it," he smirked, and began to dig a second one out for himself, though his eye didn't leave the man until he bent over to light it. Then he shivered there in place, silvery breath intermingling with the smoke, watching and listening as Theo told him a new story with a keenly familiar undertone.
They were the same. He and Theo: they were both in the same damned place, weren't they? Stuck in the past with the men who'd left them for their own benefit.
"You can love 'em and resent 'em at the same time," he said. "You can hope the best for them and still wish that what they'd really wanted was to stay with you." He smiled a cynical smile and produced his flask again. He raised it with a cheeky tilt of the head. "To bastard men, then," he grinned, and he took a swig. "May their memory leave us the fuck alone."
"No you didn't," he snorted back, smoking more as he listened. The words rang too true and they hurt. He did wish the best for Elijah and yet he still hurt deeply that he wasn't enough to risk everything for, that for everyone including the man he'd once loved he was never going to be enough.
"From your mouth to Grenadt's ears," he murmured back, stealing the flask to take a sip as well before returning it while sputtering and making quite the displeased face at the taste. "Those do not mix well at all. Yugh that was vile. Serves me right for always pilfering your things."
Theo chuckled and shook his head some. He let the quiet settle in as they both smoked but eventually he stubbed out the end and swept his ashes off the edge.
"I don't think I do though. In fact I don't think I have in a very, very long time."
"Wasting my whiskey, you little shit. They mix just fine," Fletch complained. "Puts hair on your chest." Still, he found himself smiling over at the man. Even under the circumstances, and with all they'd been through, he was glad to have his friend back. He hadn't allowed himself to know that he missed it, but he desperately had. Whatever more his heart thought it needed from Theo, he could be content with what they had for now — even if the way he looked at the man in this moment gave all of it away.
He allowed Theo the space to be quiet and to speak to himself. That was fine. He'd said he'd stop prying and he would stand by it. But soon, they'd both burned through their smokes, and the cold had long since caught up with him. "I need to head in and warm up," he announced, cradling his bad hand in his good and blowing on his fingers. "And then I think I should try to sleep a bit."
He headed back in and surveyed the room, considering each piece of furniture. He was too done with it all to spend another night in that bloody chair. But there wasn't much else that allowed for sleep, so he supposed he'd just make do with it. He dragged it a little ways towards the bed so he'd be visible if Theo woke, then settled into it, rubbing his eyes as the day finally caught up to him.
"Summer boy," he teased even as he was rubbing his own arms. "Can't handle a nippy breeze."
Theo followed in on Fletcher's heels but decided against the bed and instead for his nest of blankets and pillows he'd made on the floor earlier. He suspected his bodyguard would likely have many comments and complaints but Theo just wanted to be close to the fire. Wanted a change that might make it harder to sleep. Wanted to reach back to younger better days when he was happy and read by the light until the fire died down and he fell fast asleep.
"Just sleep in the damn bed, Jack." He yawned and stretched before settling into his makeshift den of comfort. Theo tilted his head up so he could try and see the man's lips. "I'm going to start thinking you and that chair got something going on otherwise with how much and how often you seem to glue your posterior to it."
"Jealous of the furniture, are we?" Fletch chuckled wearily. "That's a new one." He glanced over at the bed, then back at the door, and considered it. "I've a feeling if they see me doing that, I'll be fired on the spot," he mused. But it was late. He'd just had one of the worst days of his life in years, and he did need very much need the sleep. So he shrugged and rose from the chair. He went stiffly over to the door to check that it was locked, and then into his own room to do the same. He locked the balcony door, too, and drew the curtains except for a sliver that would wake him at dawn, and set his sword to lean against the wall by the bed.
Finally, Fletcher made his way back to the fire and stoked it in such a way that it would burn slow and steady and keep Theo warm. When he retrieved his eyepatch, he nodded at the man. "You know where to find me, then," he said, and he hesitated there for a moment in his worry and regret. "You'll be alright here?"
Theo smirked slightly at having won this one. His eyes followed the other man about the room, softening as Fletcher handled the fire for him. They lingered on his form when the bodyguard couldn't catch him looking and for a moment the nobleman nearly asked if he could join him.
"Yeah. Used to do this all the time as a kid. Not much different now I imagine. I'll call for you if I need you. But you deserve decent sleep too for once...or as close as you can get.
"Oh and here," he offered up an extra blanket from his nest already pre-warmed. "Since you get cold easily."
"Hmm. Bold words for someone who fries to a crisp under the sun. Keep it. I'll be fine." With that final quip, there was nothing else for it. Fletch left his friend's side and approached that massive, plush bed. It was bigger and nicer than anything he'd ever slept in in his life — that one night notwithstanding. He hesitated. He knew full well that crawling under those covers would stir up what he'd felt. Just do it, he told himself. Just deal with it.
He set his eyepatch aside and kicked his boots off and climbed in. He buried his face in a pillow that smelled of Theo, waiting for thoughts of the day to creep in and play over and over again in his mind. Instead, sleep took him, and he sank mercifully into the black.
"I can't help the sun thinks I look great in red!" He jested back before settling down. The minutes of staring at the fire turned into hours as Theo fought sleep. His eyes burned and drooped and still he struggled, ever so desperate to not fall into dreaming.
Yet, eventually he did succumb and was immediately immersed into a sea of nightmares. Variations of the evening's events played over and over for him to endure and break under. He proposed to Edwina, she rejected him, and Fletcher saw, mocking and ridiculing him. He proposed and Fletcher intervened, causing Theo a heart-pounding moment of hope before the other man swept his intended bride away. She accepted and not long after Fletcher had stolen her away and Theo had flown into a jealous rage that resulted in more humiliation and insults.
Fletcher intervened and picked Theo. This one lingered. But, then Orz killed Fletcher. Over and over he saw the other man's death. Fletcher strangled and Theo unable to move, to help him. The bodyguard stabbed repeatedly until he bled out slow and painful. The man tortured with Elijah beside him and Theo left to choose between the two. Theo murdering Orz only to start drowning himself in rivers upon rivers of the other man's blood.
He whimpered in his sleep, tossing and turning. Eventually he cried out still trapped within his own worst fears. "Jack, no!"
Ash fell from the carriage into the mud. It was storming, and black waves like snow-capped mountains threatened to wash them overboard, and Ash fell over the railing and sank into the deep. Then pandemonium reigned the streets, and blood flowed in the cracks between the cobble, and Ash's spilled to commingle with countless red rivulets. And every time, Fletcher watched helplessly from the sidelines, impotent and paralyzed with fear. He awoke gasping for air and drenched in sweat as the sea took Ash away from him for the fifth time that night. He sat up straight and fought to get his bearings.
Theo's room. Theo's bed. How long had he slept? By the sliver through the curtains, it was still deep in the night, but by the low glow of the coals and the chill in the room, they'd both been out for hours at the least. Well. He was up, now. He'd stoke the fire and have himself another smoke.
The cigarette was half gone when he heard the cry. He promptly tamped it out and pushed in through the balcony doors, heart racing and ready to fight. But the room was quiet, and he realized then that Theo had simply called for him in his sleep. Fletcher wondered briefly if he should do anything about it. But if he didn't, then why had he stayed in this room at all? Slowly and quietly, he crossed the cold floor to where Theo lay curled up. He sat down beside the man and set a hand to his back, hoping that it would be enough to bring him back from the nightmares.
The touch was equally grounding as it was startling. Theo came back from the brink of drowning, bursting forth back into the land of the waking with a wet, guttural gasp. As he sat up facing Fletcher his hands flew out to latch onto the man's collarbones and shoulders as if ready to strangle him. But, upon recognition of who had awoken him, Theo's hands moved forward to pulled the other man in close by the back of his neck and head, pressing their foreheads close together. Fresh tears spring to his eyes while he presses in hard against the other man.
"I—thought—you were—dead," he gasped out between sobbing, hyperventilating breaths. "I dre—amed it over—and o—ver. I cou—ldn—save you. I couldn't save—you—and—there was so—much—blood. Just—drowning."
Theo clung tight and sobbed messily, completely overwhelmed by the remnants of his nightmares and the emotions they had dredged up within him. "You're real? This is real?"
Fletch jerked as Theo's hands went for his neck. No — it was his shoulders, but the man had one hell of a vice grip. Before he knew it, he'd been pulled forward until their noses nearly touched. It was the last thing he'd expected...until he realized that it was just a means of comfort. He held his hands up, palms out. "Whoa. Hey. It's alright," he murmured, but he was too close for Theo to read him. And Theo wouldn't have been able to anyway with how hard he'd begun to sob. "Okay. It's alright. It's alright, Theo."
He sighed, briefly hesitant to do what he knew his friend needed at the expense of another blurred line. But again, he'd slept in this room for a reason, and now that reason had shown its ugly face. "Oh, just come here," Fletch muttered, and pulled Theo in to drape over his lap and rest against his chest. Already, he could feel the tears soaking through his shirt. "There you go. You're safe. It was just a dream."
Theo easily slid into his lap, clinging so strongly to Fletcher's shirt that the creases of fabric dug angry painful lines into the palms of his hand. The man's shirt was easily and quickly soaked with his tears and yet Theo could not cease. The fear of his dreams coupled with the relief of the other man's assured health just proved too much.
He cried for Fletcher who lived and yet chose to remain in the cage with him. He cried for Ash who had been young and full of life and promise who died for a nobleman who never truly needed protecting. He cried for Niles and Bertrand who had suffered injuries and the loss of their friend all because Theo had had a temper tantrum and left the party early. He cried for Orz who had gotten a far better death than he deserved. He cried for Elijah who likely lived a far better life than he deserved. He cried for himself who was too afraid to say aloud exactly how he felt and yet so desperately desired to be loved back.
On and on he sobbed until it quieted to slower sniffles and hiccups. Only then did he realize what he had done and began to feel massive waves of humiliation and embarrassment. He'd made an utter fool of himself, crying like a toddler and needing to be held and soothed over a simple nightmare.
"...I'm sorry I woke you...and ruined another of your shirts. I—thank you."
Instead of giving the hug he so desperately desired to, Theo slid off the man's lap and gave his good hand a gentle squeeze. "You were right. I didn't expect them to be that...bad." He grimaced and chewed on his lip. "Does it ever get better? Or easier?"
"Might be my last clean one," Fletch replied with the hint of a smile. "I suppose I'll be the Archer family's first shirtless bodyguard tomorrow. I'm sure they'll both be thrilled." His hand twitched as Theo squeezed it. He glanced down, embarrassment flashing briefly across his features. He'd been very close to grabbing the man's hand and holding it without even thinking. He cleared his throat and fell serious.
"It does, and it doesn't. The nightmares don't go away, but they do get quieter. It helps to have something to do. Ways to keep busy. People to be around." He shot Theo a cryptic look as he considered something. "You want to know why I do what I do? Going into town and finding distractions? It's to shut the thoughts out. If you know what to look for, you'd be surprised how many people are like this."
Fletcher yawned and shook his head in a feeble attempt to push the sleep away. "Fuck, I'm sorry. Trying to stay awake. D'you...want your bed back? That can't be comfortable."
He caught the facial expression and immediately but gently let go of Fletcher's hand, thinking he had gone too far again. The words he spoke though made sense. It wasn't about thriving after the trauma. It was about surviving via distraction. Somehow though realizing this is how Fletcher must feel on a constant basis made his own heart squeeze tightly in a demand to hug him.
Theo settled for gently nudging the man back towards his bed. "No, go, go. You're exhausted and need the sleep more. If it becomes too much for me I'll let you know. I'll just...think on my own distraction in the meantime I suppose."
A single laugh hissed through Fletcher's nose, and that hint of a sheepish grin returned. "Dunno about that, but...alright. I won't ever say no to it. My bed can't begin to compare." Even after he said it, though, he didn't leave the fire, but lingered there on the floor and gazed at his friend, the weight of his regrets made plain. "I'm sorry, Theo," he said again. "You didn't deserve this. I wish I could have shielded you from it."
And still he didn't leave for a few minutes more, until his chin began to droop to his chest and he startled himself back awake. It wouldn't do to fall asleep here on the floor next to Theo and tempt a repeat of what had happened before. "You know where to find me," he mumbled as he got to his feet and shuffled off to that massive bed again. He was out before his head hit the pillow, delving once more into his own nightmares.
"Don't be," he replied softly, watching the exhausted man with gentle eyes. "No one does...but I'm glad you're alive."
His features softened further as he observed this man he had come to call friend and who he had placed his full trust and respect. Theo wished he was a braver man so as to climb back into his lap and hold him close. He wished he was a less selfish man so as to release Fletcher from his heart. Yet, altogether he remained a weak man, unable to fulfill his heart's desire or another the flames of it.
"Sleep sweet," Theo called gently after him. He shifted enough to stoke the fire a bit more, nowhere as good or organized as Fletcher was about it but it would do for a short while more. Yet, even with his back to the bed, Theo found himself with his thoughts firmly on who lay asleep in it. He had said he'd mull over a distraction. Now that he had one though, he was less sure on how accepting his bodyguard would be of sleeping if he only knew how he overwhelmed Theo's thoughts.
The nobleman sat in stony silence feeling the chill of the room permeate down to his bones. It was a different numbness than the shock he'd experienced earlier. His thoughts floated instead of laying still, buried beneath muddy recesses of his mind. When he once more found himself drifting, cold, tired, and alone in wakefulness, his thoughts drifted further towards selfish.
He didn't want to wake Fletcher to take back his bed. But, perhaps he could just slip in? He looked over and found the other man only to one side. Theo reasoned he could take the other side closest to the balcony and wake before the dawn to sneak back to his nest with Fletcher none the wiser. He could even place a bolster pillow between them to keep from trying to snuggle up again.
It was daft.
It was brilliant.
As if controlled by a puppet master rather than his own selfish free will, Theo rose to enact his plan. He crept on near silent feet across the rugs to the far side of the bed and placed the large, cylindrical pillow in the middle of the bed. His heart raced as a chill spread through him and he held his breath, desperate for the other man to not wake. Then, inch by inch he slowly slipped and reclined back into his own bed. He lay with his back to Fletcher on the extreme edge of the bed where a single hair out of place risked sending him to the floor, hoping and praying that he had been successful in his infiltration.
Sleep came even more fitfully the second time around. His dreams intertwined to form an endless length of rope spun from visions of Ven's corpse and Ash's last words and the Baron's venom and the shadow of Orz above him. He was utterly powerless in the face of it all. Ven died and Ash died and the villains kept squeezing the life out of him and Theo, and he was just a child. Just a scared little boy.
The sea tossed and turned beneath him in a way that it hadn't before in the echoes of Ash's death. There were noises, too: rustling, and shifting. All at once, he realized that it wasn't a dream at all, and his eye snapped open and he sat up gasping for air again. As always, it took time to shake the feeling and remember where he was: safe and warm in a locked room. But where was Theo? He squinted across the room only to find that his friend had abandoned his nest. Had he gone to the washroom? Fletch strained to listen, but he couldn't pick up a thing, except...except for the man breathing nearby. He turned and blinked rapidly as he confirmed exactly what he'd thought he'd heard and felt: that Theo had returned to his bed after all.
"Fucking kidding me," Fletch mumbled to himself as he scratched at his stubble. He pressed his good hand to his face and began to laugh the way a worn down, aching, sleep-deprived man does. It was absurd, truly. It was all so absurd.
The sudden movement of the bed as Fletcher sat up made Theo's heart seize as he all but held his breath to be caught. 'Please be rolling over. Please be rolling over. I'm not here. Everything is fine. Don't see me.'
But then the bed shook in the way it would when someone was wracked with sobs and the nobleman found his head swiveling to peek over his shoulder to check on if Fletcher was alright. Perhaps the man was having a nightmare of his own?
A soft hissing inhalation shot into Theo's lungs. Definitely not asleep or a nightmare. He sat up too, one leg already on the floor as if ready to shoot back to his nest at the first sign of reprimand.
"Go back to sleep. I know, I know. Could get caught. Things bad enough. I need to use my head more. I just couldn't bear having you in the damn chair again and..." Theo paused halfway in the process of standing when he plopped back down on the bed. "You know what, fuck it. You need sleep. I need sleep. The pillow's there. The door's locked. You can yell at me tomorrow about this but until then deal with it. Neither of us should be alone right now."
So saying the man slid right back into the bed and laid himself down on the edge. The only difference this time was that he was facing Fletcher and able to see the other man's reaction rather than trying to shy away from it.
Something about it made him laugh even harder. Was he truly losing it? Theo had just said everything that he was about to before descending promptly into the sort of irritable cursing that he also would have done. And he was right: it truly didn't matter, and neither of them wanted to be alone right now. The comfort Fletch truly wanted was out of reach, but knowing that the man was there would help, at least.
He wiped his eyes and balanced his chin on his fist. His laughter subsided, but the look of amusement remained. "May the record show that I have been a complete fucking gentleman," he insisted. "And I'm not yelling at you tomorrow. You want to cause a scandal in the most benign way possible, you go ahead. I'm too tired to argue."
He grumbled and sighed and settled back down to rest his head on the pillow, hint of a smirk still visible. He closed his eye again. "Much easier ways of getting me in bed, though," he added.
"Aye, I know. The noble rogue and the roguish noble. I'm an awful cad and you're always so...," he trailed off with a small grin of his own. Fletcher would not take kindly to being called sweet and gentle most likely but it was true. "So very much a true gentleman."
For all his grumbling though, Theo could not help but grin at the sight of the other man settling in. It was almost cute how fussed and scowly he got as if nothing bothered him and he was removed enough to care when everything he did screamed the opposite.
His words though caused such a blush and a small strangled sound to escape the nobleman. But then without missing a beat he quipped back, "third time's a charm."
Fletcher's eye snapped open again and his brow shot upwards into a high arch. For a moment, he seemed to keenly consider what Theo had just thrown back at him. Then he grew guarded, and his expression went hard and distant and catlike.
Was that truly what he wanted from Theo? The man was so very easy to look at. So very pretty. He thought of their banter: how both of them always seemed to find the edge of what was proper and take one step past it. Like they were testing each other. Dancing around in circles. But was desire really the thing that they both avoided? For Theo, maybe. For Fletcher... Maybe it was the day they'd had, but he found that he couldn't answer that question. And that was new. He'd never been here before. It had always been so clear.
The only certainty was this: he was scared to hurt his friend. And...he was scared to hurt himself. To reopen a wound that he'd been holding shut. And behind that door were countless ways to do both.
"Is it?" he replied with a coy hint of warning. "Careful what you wish for from a rake, Theo."
Theo shrugged, not pushing it. It was not as if he had expected anything to come of it. And truthfully if something had, he likely would have gently shied back. Now wasn't exactly how he wanted things to begin. Or rather he did not desire things to begin for fear of Fletcher being hurt. But if they were going to begin, and oh how his heart pined for them to, he did not want it to be on the heels of something traumatic that later could be used as an excuse for confusion and not knowing what how they truly felt.
"Careful what you take from a noble, Jack,~" he warned impishly back. "An adventurous, charismatic rake that loves 'em and leaves 'em never settling versus a cold, reclusive, and ruthless noble who lets go of nothing once it's within his grasp...could be a good premise to a book. Not as good as pirates though," he added more softly with a tired yawn. "'Eir my favorite."
It came as a relief, honestly, that Theo made it into a joke. Ambiguity was safe, and Fletcher would stay there in that place forever if he could. "Who's taking anything?" he grumbled. "Perfect fucking gentleman, sir. Remember that. And I'm keeping that book a little while longer. It's worth a few re-reads."
With that, he rolled away from Theo and closed his eye again. He dreaded sleep, both for the dreams and for the day that followed it. Still, he needed it if he was going to survive the aftermath: the talks of Ash's burial and notifying his family, and of explaining it all to the staff. The necessity of pulling Niles aside and promising that he'd never be so weak as to put the man in such a position again. And through it all, the Baroness would no doubt make the day about her, bringing up the engagement and fussing over her son. The more he thought about it, the less he wanted tomorrow to come at all.
"Nooo," he squawked in mild protest, burying his face in the blankets. Muffled, he continued, "just return it in the condition you found it please. I can't get another copy."
Dragging the blanket back down, Theo settled in for sleep, falling easily and quickly after the trials of the day. His dreams were gentler although Fletcher still featured heavily in them. But it was as if his proximity and the smell of smoke enveloping Theo was enough to ward off the gore and horror from earlier.
Hours passed and he tossed and turned some in his sleep but was otherwise quiet. Each roll brought him closer and closer to the center until at one point he rolled right over and on top of the dividing bolster pillow. Theo pressed in close against Fletcher, relaxing further at the familiar warmth and scent. Only then did his restlessness seem to settle as his arm snaked around eventually to hug the man close.
He awoke to warmth and quiet and a pale sliver of pre-dawn light. He knew where he was, this time. There was no mistaking this room for the cabin, the bed for his own, Theo's arms for another's. And yet his first waking thought was to wish that the man would stop complicating things. It had been so much easier to pine after him yesterday from behind a clear boundary, and easier still to deny it altogether in the weeks prior. Now the man's pursuit of him had a sense of forwardness to it, and Fletcher wondered if he'd become the escape — the distraction he'd spoken of. Years ago, he'd have accepted it without question. Now, as with every other genuine moment between them, he felt raw and exposed from it.
He dreaded the idea of saying anything, but...he knew that he had to stop this before it went any further. It would be a shitty start to a shitty day, wouldn't it? But he'd do it.
Fletcher slid from the bed as softly as he could, grabbed his boots, patch, and coat, and returned to his own room. The nanny door still wouldn't close all the way, but he'd ask Kifes to help him repair it in good time. The bed still stood where Theo had dragged it into the corner, covered with his strewn about things. He pulled his last clean shirt from the pile and changed, then returned to Theo's room to stoke the fire again.
Theo made a soft sound, stirring as Fletcher drew away. "My back, he softly bemoaned, stretching and sliding off the pillow with a sigh of understanding. While Fletcher dressed, the nobleman stared at the canopy of his bed with dread and resignation for the day. He hadn't meant to end up back again with his bodyguard in his arms but it had happened nonetheless. He was pushing the line between them more and more as if waiting to see when the surface tension would pop and they'd both be flooded with the consequences. Whether he meant to or not, he was still responsible for it and this was a dangerous game a man like Theodore had no business playing.
With a deep, stressed sigh, Theo rolled out of bed to gather his clothes and balm. He was just heading for the other room to clean up and change when he caught Fletcher reentering.
"Good morning. I'm just going to change and handle reapplication. I'll be right back," he spoke quietly as if speaking louder would cease the dawn and send the sun plunging back out of the sky.
He hurried himself away, doing exactly as he said he would although his outfit was far more causal than his usual fare. Theo just could not face being primped in all his finery when a friend had died and he'd killed a man only the night before. He left the bandages off, grimaces some in the mirror as the salve was liberally applied in a glossy smear. His mother would certainly have a lot to say about it and want it covered if only for her nerves. Theo found he just did not care.
"She's going to be absolutely insufferable today," he commented stepping back into his room looking exhausted but more put together and closer to his reserved and poised self.
He stared into the fire as he waited, one hand on his hip while he scratched absentmindedly at his stubble with the other. The longer Theo took to get ready, the further his stomach seemed to drop. It shouldn't have felt so difficult. It should have been black and white, put the boundaries up, case closed. No matter what he did, why did it always feel like the wrong choice? Why didn't he know what in the hell he wanted? How did Theo always manage to push him so perfectly off balance?
He turned to face his friend, wincing at the sight of the cut. "You going to be alright?" he asked. The man was a stark contrast to how he'd looked yesterday, all done up like a little prince. The circles beneath his eyes could have been bruises, and he seemed more gaunt than usual. It didn't stop Fletcher's heart from beating just a little faster. He told himself that it was just his nerves.
"Erm. Look. Theo. I think...I think we need to sort this out." Fletch pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned, shaking his head. He was never any good at this. These things were always easier left unsaid, but...he had to. He dropped his hand to his side again and gazed across the room at the object of this tangled mess of emotions. "You've been...testing the waters. Looking for something, or, I dunno, just, wanting something from me. And I've tried to ignore it, and just let you sort through it, but I broke yesterday, and the line is...well...it's past blurred. It's not there anymore."
He paused, collecting his thoughts and kicking himself for how awkward this had become. "I'm not going to go into all the ways this could cause trouble with the staff, and my men, and your dad. I'll not lecture you. And I'm not saying I wouldn't if things were different. I would, believe me, but...we're way past the kind of dalliance I can offer. I respect you too much. And I know you. You want someone soft who'll pour his damned heart out to you and hang up the armor at the end of the day. But you know that's not me. I can't give you what you're looking for. So this has to stop. Because there'll come another night when I'm weak, and broken, and I'll only end up hurting you."
He tilted his head to see Fletcher seemingly so unbalanced. Whatever the man had to say must have been important and for a moment Theo's heart squeezed in anxious anticipation. 'No, not now. I'm not ready yet. Please not now--ah. Yes, that's expected."
Theo nodded. This was about last night. This was about the embrace, the kiss, the waking up in each other's arms...twice, the argument in the gazebo, the attack, the sobbing, the blood, and shock and mess. It was all the little things that had caused that line between friend and more to blur further and further before Theo had even realized what he was doing. And now it was coming to a head because he had been weak and given into desire out of desperation of touch and affection.
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as it all threatened to overwhelm. It was a boundary. He could handle boundaries. His entire life had been about navigating others's while not being allowed to have any of his own. Calmly, gently, and without any heat of rejection or accusation he licked his lips and carefully replied, each word measured before it was uttered.
"I understand saying all this and approaching me was very difficult for you. And I want to say thank you for trusting me with it even when so much stands on the line as well as respecting me enough to be honest. Now, if I may be honest. I agree. I haven't been fair to you. I've found over the last several months all of my walls and defenses dropping around you and the more I am free to be myself, the less I want to withdraw back into the shell I've built for myself. And while at the time I did not realize my draw to you as more than just friendship and I have rudely and carelessly crossed that line several times now, I do understand it now and recognize that that is entirely my responsibility to manage. And things are regrettably not different. I am in the same unforgiving environment I was fifteen years ago when I actually had someone, in fact things are much worse now. And that is not something I can or would ask you to endure. So...yes, I need to and will do better. Thank you for bringing this to my attention and I am sorry for the undue stress it has caused you."
For a moment Theodore hesitated, chewing on his lip and wrinkling his nose in anxious thought, very much appearing for the first time in this conversation less than calm and perfect. But a short nod later and he lifted his chin again. "And just in the spirit of being open and honest there is something I need to correct about your statements. One rather important detail you got wrong."
He paused again, mulling over his words as he thought each word over carefully again. "You do not know what I want. Frankly, I don't think anyone does as no one has ever taken the time to ask me, certainly not my parents, not my fiance, not Elijah, and not you. As at the very least we are still friends--I hope we are at least--I would ask that you not treat me as all the rest have, and do not make my decisions for me. I respect that this is not what you want, and that I may never be what you want as I am. I fully accept this and take you at your word without any manipulative, cajoling attempts on my part to change your mind. But please, for all your respect and care of me, please do not assume then that I am incapable of making my own choices and mistakes or incapable of knowing what or who it is I want. You of all people know me better than that."
Fletcher lost count of the number of times he opened his mouth to say a thing, took a breath, and shut it again. Theo took all the blame. That wasn't right, and he wanted to argue, but instead he listened. And it hadn't caused undue stress, he just...needed it said. And it wasn't that Theo wasn't what he wanted, or could never be who he wanted. He did want him, there was no mistaking that. It was just a terrible idea, that was all, and his heart warned him against it, and against saying it aloud with any more clarity than he already had.
He began to speak again, but this time, the breath released in a long, slow stream, and his shoulders slackened as he deflated. "Okay. No. You're right. You just told me this yesterday, and I'm already doing it again." Fletcher glanced habitually at the door as though at any moment, the Baron might break it down. But it was very early, and the house was dead silent still. He returned his gaze to Theo, looking rather sheepish for asking a thing that he knew he absolutely should not. "So...correct me, then. What exactly did I get wrong? You say I don't know what you want because I haven't asked. So what do you want?"
"You," Theo said easily as if his heart was not screaming in his chest. "In the barest and simplest terms of a perfect world, I want you as you are and to explore all that can mean. But, not on the heels of all this. You're not a distraction," he chuckled mirthlessly and blushed. "You're the one I try to distract myself from.
"I do not need soulful heart-pourings and poetry and moonlit walks—that's what the books are for," he snorted, waving his hand off at them. "All I have ever wanted was someone to be a partner at my side. To love me and allow me to love him. To challenge me and support me yes, but also to trust me and respect me enough to do the same. An equal. And I know those are impossible asks when there is a power imbalance due to my status. I know this is all not doable when I have an ex-beloved who cannot even give me the time of day if he wanted to, when I live in a house that is a cage and not a home, and when you do not know all there is to know about what it would mean to pursue something like this. I cannot do that in good faith and truthfully I do not feel either of us, and you may correct me if I'm wrong there, but I certainly do not feel in a place emotionally where I could be what you deserve from a partner.
"So much has happened in the last 24 hours and while I desperately desire your comfort as a soothing balm to my soul and I struggle deeply with keeping you at arm's length because I fear ruining the first true friendship I've probably had in my entire life, this is not," he shook his head tearing up slightly and fighting the frog in his throat, "this is neither the time nor place for this. And it may never be. But, it is how I feel. I care—too much as you would say, but deeply all the same, and I think I have for quite some time now."
He took a shaky breath and did his best to steady himself. His carefully crafted mask would not shield his emotions though, not now when he was raw and open. His soul was laid bare before Fletcher even as he openly supplied his own rejection.
"I will heed your concern however and keep my person and emotions to myself going forward. They will trouble you no further I assure you. My only hope is that our friendship may remain intact. But I also understand this changes things for you and that may no longer be possible.
"...and thank you...for asking. No one ever asks."
Yeah.
He definitely shouldn't have asked that.
Because instead of something easy to dismiss, or box up and put away, Theo poured his heart out in a way that perfectly echoed every single thing that Fletch himself had tried to deny. And instead of putting him on the defensive and making him shut down and close off, all the man's words served in doing was to draw the same out of him, until his ears and neck had gone hot and he could hear his own heart and he breathed like he'd just been running.
"Shit," he rasped.
He rubbed at his face and scratched his head and shifted on his feet. He gazed across the room at Theo with that same look as he had a day earlier: equal parts shock and desperate longing. His mouth opened and closed like a fish again before he could finally muster a proper reply. "Yeah. I...this is...this is bad, isn't it? What're we doing? What're we even...look, I...at the risk of making this even worse: there's no power imbalance. You're not a threat to me. That's not an issue. Never has been. And you won't lose a friend over this, I just..."
Fletch sighed and groaned and drummed his fingers against his leg. The more he said, the worse it got. "Fuck," he finished. "I need a smoke before I do something both of us regret."
"Thank you," Theo replied softly, looking equally torn and longing and yet still Fletcher's words soothed him. He still had a friend and the rest...well it was best he did not consider too hard and give himself delusional false hope. He already knew more than he probably should. But at least he knew the truth. They both did. "It's definitely complicated. I wouldn't say bad, maybe messy. Such is life."
He waved the man off. "Go. It's early enough you won't be noticed and can take your time. It's okay," the man gently reassured. "Really."
Fletch nodded and made for the balcony with a sudden urgency that spoke of just how close he'd been to breaking. The cold air assaulted him as he stepped out without so much as his old coat to shield him from the winter. But of all things, it brought him back to his senses — even more so than his first drag of the morning. "What am I doing?" he muttered, berating himself for his lack of self control. "Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid."
He shouldn't have said it. He should never have admitted what he did. It was a moment of weakness on his part, and it had broken this thing wide open and now they both bled their desires and there was no stepping back from it. What scared him most was the realization that he wanted this. Maybe it would have been easier, or safer, to deal with it unrequited, but he had wanted Theo to feel the same.
Why couldn't the man be harsh and closed off and prone to selfishness? He'd have known what to do with that. "What would you think of all this, old man?" he asked no one. "He's better than you ever were." He wondered if Ven would have been happy for him, or jealous, or cool and distant and uncaring. He wished he didn't care, but the closer mid-winter got, the more the dead man dogged his every waking moment. "Wish you'd stop haunting me, you sad bastard," he added before tamping out his cigarette and heading back in.
Fletcher left and it was as if all the air in the room had been sucked out with him. Theo's knees turned to aspic and he nearly collapsed into the closest chair before spotting the now dried blood from his wet clothes the previous day. It was a sobering sight as he clung to the wooden back and stared at it. He had already gotten one man killed. What would happen to Fletcher? The Baron had driven Elijah away and locked Theodore up for it. But the chains had steadily tightened over the years and any hint of being anything less than perfectly elite, perfectly masculine, perfectly an Archer was crushed, drawn and quartered, and buried beneath the rubble of his heart. The Baron needed to say nothing, simply give a look and the noose tightened.
His bodyguard was so different than his former manservant though. It frightened Theo because he knew Fletcher was not the type of man to go down without a fight. And he was terrified of what end that would mean for this man he had finally admitted to loving even without having said so in as many words. He couldn't leave because of Elijah and he couldn't stay because it was going to kill them both. He cursed himself for being so disgustingly selfish and yet having released the truth into the tension between them, Theo could not help but feel a bit better. What would come, would come. At least the truth was out there.
With a sigh he turned the chair facing away so that he did not have to look at it and began the repetitive task of collecting all of his abandoned blankets and pillows from the floor. Each one was carefully and to the best of his ability replaced on the bed. It was a messy effort, no one could say Theo really knew how to make a bed, but it would do and it wouldn't result in questions he did not feel keen to answer. He looked up as Fletcher entered, turning the faintest shade of pink before casting his eyes downward some feeling very much unsure of what the other man had found in the calm of chill and smoke. Theo feared if he spoke first he would upset the balance further and everything would come tumbling down about his ears, or worse, he'd break the promise to leave Fletcher be he had only just made minutes earlier.
He cleared his throat and stood there awkwardly next to the balcony doors, hands shoved in his pockets, looking haggard and sleep-deprived and very uncertain as to what to do next. Theo hadn't lost a friend, it was true, but now that this was in the open, it changed things. His usual swagger — the supreme confidence and ambiguity of their banter — was off the table, now, lest it come off the wrong way. And any kindness or seriousness might open it back up for more of the same conversation, and in spite of the cigarette and the brisk air, he wasn't certain that he wanted to risk being so flustered again.
And that left...planning. And small talk. All things dull and wooden.
"Erm. The other bodyguards know, by the way. About me. Just...so you're aware. Niles has been good about keeping quiet since that time we...since he walked in on us. Ash and Tiff had a bet going, and...I guess Ash won it," he chuckled softly, remembering the look on the man's face the other day when he'd caught Fletcher staring. He winced and swallowed audibly as that memory twisted into the arrow that struck Ash. "So don't worry about them. But I suppose I should be more careful if they picked up on it. Not as good at hiding things as I thought."
"Ah," he replied softly, nodding slowly. "And...me? I mean Niles obviously and if the others had a bet..." He shook his head and sighed. "Kenna and Kifes were there before so they know, about me that is. Aneisha...I don't exactly know. I don't think she exactly knows either for that matter although she has danced around it in the unsure matter people do when they want to know. The majority of the staff was replaced. Everyone chalked it up to a scandal between me and a maid, a few certainly left with child although I can assure you that was not my doing. Kifes was considered too important to my father's work and my mother could not go without Kenna's cooking.
"What was the bet?"
"I dunno," he answered truthfully. "Either that I'm a deviant, or...or Ash picked up that I've been...holding a candle for you. But...yesterday, he caught me staring, and...I was such a mess, Theo. Before the ball. At the ball. I'm so bad at this," he chuckled weakly. "Niles said the only thing that saved me was the girl being there. That anyone who saw it could just assume I wanted her."
Fletcher paused long enough to pull a face like he'd stepped in shit. He wasn't looking forward to seeing her more frequently at all. Then he pulled it back together and continued on.
"And he'd be right. It was a miracle you didn't see it either. I'm not cut out to pretend for this long. I don't...I don't know how this is going to work, if I'm being honest."
"Probably because I'm too busy staring at your lips--to read them. To read them," he repeated softer looking a bit flustered himself. "And I'm sorry about the ball. All of it, I just...I cannot express just how deeply I despise it all. The grandeur, the socializing, the pretending, the pageantry. It's all for show and no one means anything they say. How does anyone enjoy so much posturing and lying? It's exhausting."
He rubbed a hand over his face and sat on the edge of his bed. "We'll figure it out. If there's anything we have in common, it's that we are survivors. I suppose the only saving grace is that I am likely going to be locked down for the winter. I do not see Mother allowing me out of the house even just for lessons." Theo sighed deeply and rubbed at his temple. "I think we're going to be stuck reading a lot of books, Jack. You'll be alright. Just try not to bore too many holes into the back of my fiance's head please." He grimaced called Edwina such, his face as sour as Fletcher's had been at the thought of her.
"Yeah, well...that makes two of us. But only one of us is any good at it," Fletcher added. "I'm sorry, by the way. That this just tightened the leash further. I know it's the last thing you need." He grew serious as he realized just what Theo had said: that they'd be caged in this house, day in and day out, with little to no reprieve. It may have been a good thing for their being seen in the public eye, but it was decidedly terrible for this boundary that they'd agreed on. How Theo didn't see the risk in being bored and constantly together was beyond him.
At the mention of Edwina, he crossed his arms and jutted his chin. "I'll behave if she does," he replied with a hint of petulant challenge in his voice. "And I'm positive she won't. When's she coming around next, anyways? So I can be sure to refill my flask." He rolled his eyes and shook his head before dropping his arms again. "Anyways. I should probably get ready for the day. There's a lot to do, what with Ash, and...his family and all."
"Yes," Theo sighed, "you are." He knew himself to be soft and kept whereas the other man had the scars to prove how close to the bleeding edge he had come again and again. He shook his head though, waving the notion away.
"It was bound to happen soon anyway. Mother doesn't like me out once it starts snowing. Too afraid I'll get sick. Granted it's not like I can get any more deaf," he jested flatly.
Theo poorly held back a giggle at Fletcher's sulky pouting. "No I don't imagine she will. But goddess preserve me it better not be today. I don't think I can manage to not bite her if I have to endure my parents and her."
He nodded and took a deep breath. "Aye. Tell me what you need from me and I'll see it done. His family deserves everything and more." Theo pressed his lips tight together as he fought the prickling at the corners of his eyes.
"Oh...your wounds. How's your shoulder? And your hand? Fuck I'm an ass for not even asking. I'm sorry."
"Well...we've both been a bit distracted, to be fair," Fletch admitted, clasping his wounded hand in his good one without realizing. "It'll be fine. They'll both heal. I got lucky, really. A little further to the left and I'd have...you know what, never mind it." He winced. He'd been about to tell Theo that he'd have bled out before realizing how horrible it would be to say it to a man who'd made a very messy first kill. He hurriedly changed the subject. "Is, er...is yours going to be alright? And...thanks. I won't know until I talk to the boys. See how best to take care of his mum around this. But I may take you up on it after we sort it out." Fletcher's voice began to crack as he spoke of Ash's family, and he was grateful that Theo couldn't hear it.
Theo paled at the thought Fletcher's injuries being worse. It was his literal worst nightmares. "I'm just glad you're okay," he murmured softly. The reminder of his own injury had him nearly touching it before pausing just in time.
"It's nothing in comparison. Iron allergies," he shrugged as if it would explain everything. "What can you do? Just will heal extra slowly once it stops trying to spread. S'not the first time I've made this mistake. Probably won't be the last."
He nodded again. "Please see that you do. I...I owe it to him. I think he had a little sister too." Theo misted up. "It should have been me," he muttered lowly.
Fletch stood straighter in challenge to what he'd just heard. "Shouldn't have been anybody," he corrected before he caught himself getting prickly and backed down. "And...I'm glad you're alive," he added a little more softly. He didn't say the rest of it: that if Theo had died, he'd never forgive himself. That if it was Theo instead of Ash, it would serve as a violent echo of the last time he'd lost someone so close to him, and he might not recover from it a second time around. That he preferred, in this way, that it was Ash and not Theo. And what a fuck-awful thing that was to realize, let alone say aloud to a man whose opinion of him mattered very much.
"Anyways, I'll...I'll see you around."
That week passed in a blur of grief and survivor's guilt. Ash's body went home. Fletch couldn't bring himself to tell his mum how it had happened. How senseless it had been. But they helped bury him with the promise that his family would be cared for. They buried the highwaymen, too, in an unmarked grave along the side of the road, and cleared the rubble of the carriage. This order came from the Baroness, who couldn't allow Lady Obower to lay eyes on such a horrible sight.
Priorities. Everyone had their priorities. Not two days had passed when the Baron came to him and ordered him to find a replacement. He should have argued. How could anyone expect him to replace a friend, let alone put another man in harm's way so soon after he'd let Ash die? How could he go out and vet someone new to ensure they'd be safe for Theo if he couldn't even remember to eat? If, between his own nightmares and Theo's cries in the night, he wasn't sleeping at all?
And then there was Niles. Fletch didn't blame him at all for sitting him down to talk it through, but he wished the man had waited. Fletcher's behavior at the ball was dangerous, he'd said. And while in his opinion it was nobody's fault that they were ambushed, him and Tiff and Barty had had to take the lead afterwards. It made him anxious. He asked, in the kindest and politest terms, if Fletcher needed a break. If he wanted to step down and let Niles or Tiff take over. It earned him a harsher rebuke than he'd deserved. "Fuck no," Fletch spat. "It was one bad day. Come back and say it to me when it's a pattern." Whether it was a gut reaction to dig his heels in and hold onto power, or whether he was afraid of losing something else, he didn't know. He didn't look too hard for that answer. He'd do better, and that was that.
Winter deepened into frost and short, miserable days and nights that stretched on forever. His wounds finally healed, but the nightmares never ceased. Instead they grew strange, with Ash intruding on Ven's funeral pyre and Ven on Ash's burial. He tried to shut them out with whiskey, but these days it took him until he was blackout drunk to forget, and that habit was getting expensive. Still, he had more coin now than before. Whether it was grief or anticipation of midwinter or just what he and Theo had admitted to each other, his appetite for visiting the Siren had waned to nothing.
They'd found a tenuous balance, he and Theo. Gone were the days of banter and innuendo, but the tension had eased as well, and they could be as comfortable around each other now as any two people who pretended not to want the other. It made their days together quieter, and there was always a careful dance to leave considerable space between them. It was easier, somehow, than denying it altogether. And, when Lady Obower came to visit, it gave Fletch the cold satisfaction of knowing that she, a trained and pedigreed noble, would simply never measure up. And oh, how he clung to that haughty contempt.
She would arrive this afternoon, as it happened, and Fletcher had prepared his flask for it. Now all there was to do was wait. He lounged in the corner with a particular sourness etched into his features that had nothing to do with Theo's playing and did precisely what he had teased the man about months ago: pretended to read. Every so often, his eye wandered off the page and over to the piano, and he'd drink in that sight before catching himself, shifting, clearing his throat, and going back to not reading.
They had settled into a routine. It was comfortable and it was torture all rolled into one. Theo had to spend his days as he often did in the winter months; quiet, still, and reflective with the added bonus of constantly being tempted by the scent of tobacco and the sight of long legs and dark features. He considered it a small saving grace that he did not have the ability to hear his bodyguard's voice. It would surely be the siren call to his doom. As it was he already spent far too much time staring at the man's lips and fighting to not imagine how they'd feel against his own again.
The staff were busy making the place warm and cozy in time for Yule and yet Theo in his own petulant protest was purposely playing dirges and other melancholy pieces. It had gotten to the point where the Baroness practically begged him to play anything else. His wordless response was always the same: to play something rude but jaunty until she stormed out in a huff.
Like all the years previous he just did not feel in the festive spirit. This year however felt infinitely worse. He could not say as to whether it was because of the exhausting dance he and Fletcher were both engaged in or because of his actual engagement to Lady Edwina Obower. Hers at least was a voice he was forever grateful to not have to hear. The speed and exuberance at which she spoke made him sure she was likely bubbly and sugary and loud.
As if on cue the woman crept into the room with an impish grin upon her face. She held a finger to her lips with a wink to Fletcher while making sure to tread only on the carpets. Completely unaware of her presence, Theo continued to play as he was quickly stalked and eventually pounced. Her hands clapped over his eyes before moving to wrap around his chest. She hugged him close from behind and nuzzled cheek to cheek with him.
Edwina tugged him around and waited for him to look at her before talking. "You should play something sweeter, Teddy dear. It's nearly Yule! Aren't you excited? Our first Yule together. And I have just the present for you too! Oh I hope it's finished in time I can barely contain my excitement! Have you gotten mine yet? Is it big? Is it cute? Is it pink? Oh don't tell me I can't wait!"
He looked exhausted as she flitted about, pacing and bouncing as she wasted no time on allowing him to answer her. Out of habit Theo's eyes drifted to where Fletcher was all while knowing it was a torture of its own to do that as well.
Fletch made a rather audible grunt of displeasure as the girl slipped into the room. Between his misplaced attention and Theo's latest funeral song, he must have missed the sounds of her arrival. His mouth turned and his cheek creased into a sneer. He made that face so damned often these days that a new wrinkle had begun to form from it — one he pointedly ignored in the mirror. "Oh come on, now, don't do that to him," he said, knowing full well that she'd never listen to a man she'd dubbed a servant. He rolled his eye and sighed as she started in with her usual sickening exuberance. When Theo glanced over at him with that puppy-eyed look, however, Fletch sat up a little straighter and snapped the book shut.
"Heard from the young master that you've been practicing for him," he spoke up with a nod towards the piano. "Want to show us what you've got?"
There. At the expense of his bleeding ears, maybe that would shut her up.
"Oh, yes!" Edwina cried excitedly. She pressed a kiss to Theo's cheek before sliding to sit beside him on the bench. Despite his attempts to move over for her she still managed to glue herself to his side when he found himself with no more room to escape. Her fingers came down poised over the ivory keys before beginning to bang out a piece.
It was slower than it should have been and hard to recognize as the rambunctious Yule song it was but, it was still a slight bit better than some of the more snotty arrogant students Theo taught. His leg bounced with each odd note she played. Then after a breath he gently joined her an octave lower, matching her tempo easily.
Edwina stopped to watch him then gently placed a hand on his arm and waited for his attention. "How do you do that? I haven't figured it out will you show me?"
Nodding Theo explained in quiet tones and then tried to correct her as she tried to replicate it. Eventually he stood and moved behind her, placing his hands overtop hers while guiding her through the notes. Edwina could only turn her head and look at him in smitten awe while the nobleman's kept his focus on the music instead. "Just like that," he murmured, turning his head to look at her and realizing nearly too late that she looked seconds away from leaning in and kissing him.
Fletcher watched the girl expertly maneuver the situation back to her advantage. She was tenacious, he'd give her that much. Barking up the wrong tree, obviously, but...tenacious. His eye bored into the back of her stupid ginger head, and for a moment he indulged in the fantasy of dragging her from the bench and throwing her off the balcony. The urge to do so only grew stronger as she leaned in to kiss the poor bastard. He thought briefly about trying to rescue him again, but...he'd done enough damage. This was Theo's issue now, not his. And he shouldn't even care what the two got up to, anyways. With a sharp, derisive snort, he leaned back, flipped the book open, and stared at that same picture of the ship.
Soft, pillowy lips that tasted like honey suddenly pressed into his own and Theo could do nothing but freeze. Once his initial shock was over he immediately retreated from the piano bench looking completely scandalized as he touched his own lips.
"Lady Edwina! Please we are not married yet. It isn't proper!"
"Oh but we are betrothed. Besides it's just us!"
"It is certainly not just us. Mr. Daw is here—"
"Well he won't tell anyone, will you Mr. Daw? You're rooting for us. You don't mind if we lovebirds get a little kiss in now and again?"
Theo snorted before resorting to coughing to try and hide what he'd done. Lovebirds indeed. If the poor girl only knew how truly uninterested he was in her and how very much he desired the other man in the room instead.
"Allow me to procure you some refreshment Lady Edwina. I believe there's some warm, mulled cider and some mince pies I can convince cook to relinquish early if we're careful about it." He offered a playful wink while heading for the door. "I'll just leave you here with...Mr...Daw."
It was as he said it that he realized what he had done and yet had left himself with no way out of it. Fletcher was about to be the latest victim of her incessant chattering. He offered them both an apologetic smile that had her giggling and shooing Theo along.
"Oh take your time my dear. I'm sure Mr. Daw and I can find much to entertain ourselves with in your absence."
Theo lingered a moment longer before making his hurried exit. Edwina however took the absence as an opportunity to immediately set upon Fletcher.
"He's rather cute in a shy, bookish kind of way. Your master is perfectly sweet but I had hoped in time he'd be more open to being bold. Is there another lady? A maid or something? I mean I'd thought we'd be much further along and yet he can hardly manage to kiss my hand."
Fletcher's gaze once more slid off the page and up towards Theo. Instead of his usual quiet and reserved longing, however, this time he graced the man with supreme annoyance. He didn't bother to shake his head. Theo would do what Theo would do, and he'd already chosen to leave Fletch alone with this ridiculous, over-sweetened cupcake of a girl. He would definitely hear about it later, though. The look that Fletcher gave him promised him that.
As soon as Theo was out of sight, Fletch rudely and deliberately propped a boot up on the chair next to him, then went back to staring at that ship again. Edwina either didn't get the hint or didn't care. He clapped the book shut for a second time and tilted his head in a severe and unyielding challenge. "I can assure you, there's no other woman," he replied. There was a long, uncomfortable pause before he added, "Isn't this something you should talk to a girlfriend about, and not a servant?"
Seemingly undeterred, Edwina yanked the chair right out from his feet and promptly sat down in it, leaning in conspiratorially towards him. "Well you see Mr. Daw, Theodore tends to be what we'd call a bit of a recluse in society. So any girlfriends I have to discuss this with know him even less than I do. You on the other hand are quite close with your Young Master, having to be constantly at his side as it is. So I would assume you'd know him far better than all the rest. Or am I mistaken about the staff my future husband keeps?"
He pursed his lips and narrowly held back the many colorful insults he wished to hurl her way. There might come a time when he could unleash his foul mouth on her. Oh, how he'd love to send her running and crying. Until that day, though, he wouldn't dare ruin Theo's chances of being free of his cage. So he sat up straight again and addressed her. "We're not close," he growled. "Whether or not I'm around him more, I know him just as well as any of the staff do. There isn't another woman, I can promise you that much. You're the only one in his life."
"Well that's my point. The staff all seem to adore him. He's really just that that then. Poor thing. Our wedding night will be truly awkward then. Unless of course you can give him some advice, man to man that is. You seem the type to know how to steal all the pretty girl's hearts," she commented with a small smirk, her eyes running up and down him appreciatively.
"Truthfully I don't mind if he has someone else as long as I know about it. If I may be candid there is already someone else in my own heart. The problem is my family simply does not approve of the union. I had hoped if he had someone we could negotiate a way to balance our own happinesses. But, this may be most unfortunate. What a shame."
The corner of his mouth twitched as she looked him over. It might have been a first for him: revulsion at being seen that way by a woman. Normally he'd have invited it — though, not from some brat just out of diapers. Still, he didn't miss what it meant. She could be swayed towards scandal. Easily, too. And then there came a rather bold admission that she had someone on the side. That she wanted Theo to have someone, too. For leverage. Or so she claimed, anyways — who knew if she was just trying to coax gossip out of him. If she was anyone else but her, he could almost respect the game she played, even if what she'd said made him tread very carefully.
"Miss — respectfully — part of my job is to be discreet. What you've just told me is none of my d— none of my business. And all of this is better said to your fiancé. He's the one you'd need to negotiate with."
"It is indeed," she replied smugly. "So be sure to be discreet when you pass on my message to your master regarding my proposition. Unless you have a better one of course?"
Edwina winked and rose from her seat as Theo and Kifes came in the door. "My apologies Theodore dearest. I don't know where my head is at. I simply forgot that I have a dress fitting appointment this afternoon. You don't mind do you dear?" She rushed in and kisses his cheek making him blush deeply as she made her excuses and left him there stunned.
Theo looked to Kifes as if asking if he was insane and missed something before glancing to Fletcher. Now what?
"I guess you can just put the tray down and close the door on your way out. It seems the lady will no longer be needing refreshment. But do take a pastry on your way out. I know how you like Kenna's almond ones," he teased softly as the other man chuckles but obeyed. Only once the door was closed did Theo allow himself dramatically to sink to his knees and lay on the floor facedown with a deeply exasperated groan.
"How bad you going to murder me for this one?"
Fletch didn't answer her, opting instead for silence and that same unyielding glare. He was a miserable shadow of a man long after she'd gone, and his mood didn't let up when he and Theo were finally alone, either, though his sour expression shifted from unbridled disdain back to annoyance and suspicion. "Mediumly," he replied when the man finally looked up from his self-pitying moment with the floor. "If you leave me alone in a room with her again, she might get me fired. She's your pet, Theo. Don't pawn her off on me."
He squinted at the door for a moment and frowned, then shook his head and signed the rest. "How likely are we to be overheard here? We need to talk."
He couldn't help himself; Theo snorted but sat up properly and looked out the window in thought. "Can't call something feral no matter how friendly it is, a pet. You could have made excuses for needing to tail me everywhere. Next time we sic her on Niles."
Somewhere to talk. The music room was too easily eavesdropped on or barged in on. Theo shook his head. "Mother wanted me examine the remaining Yule decorations and create an inventory list for Father's budget approval. I suppose with Lady Edwina gone I don't have any more excuses to avoid it."
Theo sighed and crawled back up to his feet. He swiped the plate of snacks and motioned with his head for Fletcher to follow him upstairs. Instead of going down the hall towards their rooms, he turned left and headed off to a lesser used storage room.
"Should be okay here. Are you alright?"
Fletcher followed behind him, assuming the man led him back to their respective rooms, but instead they ducked into one that was altogether smaller. Cramped, even. There was hardly any air between him and Theo in the narrow space between the boxes. He'd been careful not to find himself in these situations since the day Ash died. Nothing good would come of it. He could already feel his heart pounding in spite of his irritation with both Theo and the girl, and he hung pointedly back by the door.
"I'm fine," he said, keeping his voice low. He blew right past the formalities and launched into it. "Theo, she's sharp. She went right for it trying to dig up leverage on you. Wanted to know if you had a woman. Played innocent at first, then changed up her game when it didn't work. Told me she's got a man on the side, and she wanted you to know it, too. Said it was so you could 'negotiate' so she can be with him. I dunno that I believe it, the way she was looking at me like I was meat.
"I meant what I said, though. I don't want to be alone with her again. She's a schemer. I don't trust her not to try something and pin it on me and get me fired."
His brow wobbled slightly as if to agree on being unable to blame her for her interest but he wisely kept his mouth shut. He sighed and leaned back against a dusty stack of boxes, clearly trying to process all the information into a cohesive conclusion.
"Alright, next time then you are required to shadow me or else your job is at risk. My safety is key." He raised a brow as if to ask if that was okay while placing the plate on one of the shelves and crossing his arms over his chest with a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry for leaving her with you. I will be sure not to do so again. And now I have to figure out a way to end things with her at fault. God why did you have to be right? I should have proposed to a little bookworm."
"Yeah. That works. Thanks." He crossed his arms in a mirror of Theo's posture and tapped his foot as he thought it through. He was out of his element again. He could no more storm into the Obower estate and beat someone senseless for answers than Theo could talk his way out of a street fight. They'd have to be slow about it. "Look. You know how to do this better than I, but if you want to find the other man, it might mean reeling her in further. Seeing what she has to say. Going along with it, you know, until you have all the cards. Either that, or use a cudgel and find someone to start a scandal with her. Not — me, to be clear," he added, holding a hand up to protest even the thought of it. "If you can get a name out of her, I can find him."
Fletcher scratched his jaw and grimaced. Now there was another thought, and he wasn't sure Theo would like it at all. He certainly didn't, but... "If it ends up that she's telling the truth about what she wants...and I'm not saying she is, but if she was...would it be so bad? You'd have your dad off you. You'd have a bit more freedom than now, and without a woman expecting something you couldn't give her. It would be honest, if nothing else."
Theo scowled mightily, jealousy written all over his face before he could rein it in at the idea of using Fletcher to get to her. "I don't want you hunting him either. I don't want you risking anything more. You're already more involved than I know you want to be and I'm sorry."
He huffed and shifted a box out of his way to look at the one beneath it as if keeping busy would help keep him from doing something he promised he wouldn't. "Is it freedom though, Jack? It's just the same cage with a new keeper. One who is likely far more insidious and dangerous. Or are you telling me if our roles were reversed you'd truly be considering this for yourself?"
Fletch could have sucked all the warmth from the room in his affront. "That's not what I'm saying. I'm not running from this, and you can't tell me to just sit and not help. And don't look at me like that. I said I wouldn't and I won't. You of all people know she's the last thing on my bloody mind. I'm not arguing. I shouldn't have to prove that I'm not interested.
"And no, I wouldn't consider it. Not in a million years. But I wouldn't take the deal you did for a man who ran at the first sign of trouble, either, so who knows what you'll do? It's not like you're waiting for me to say the word and take you away from here like it's a fairy tale. I'm just saying what I see for ways to loosen the manacles. But what would I know about that, ey? Why would I care and try to help? Hmm?"
"...I know you said as winter progresses you will be more likely to snap and bite even at me. But throwing my past choices in my face is rather unfair of you Jack. No one is asking you to prove anything. I know how much you hate her."
Another crate was moved and searched through, this one slammed down more emphatically than the last. "Thank you for informing me of your conversation and her intentions." He lowered his voice and paused in what he was doing to look at Fletcher intently. "...I know you care. But you said not to do this. You can't be angry with me trying to respect that...anymore than I can be jealous I suppose."
He leaned forward on his hands looking incredibly worn and drawn. "I don't know how to hold these pieces and not drop things. I have to get rid of her. But I need her as my fiance. I can't leave, but you can't stay. It's like I can't think fast enough. I thought she was vapid and instead she's a viper. Just one more person to guard against and now I have to be worried about not being guarded enough."
Theo sighed and shook his head again.
"I said not t— "
Fletcher caught himself, lowered his voice until it was barely above a whisper, then tried again. "I said not to snug up next to me while I'm sleeping. I didn't say anything about pushing me away when things got messy. You made that bit up all by yourself." He could feel his ears go red as soon as he'd said it, and he leaned harder into the doorframe like it would somehow expand the distance between them. His scowl deepened, but it was more in response to those unbidden thoughts than to anything Theo had said.
"Going this alone is fucking asinine," he added. "You can't worry that you've lost a friend and then act like I'm not supposed to be here for it when you need one. When you decide to stop being such a stubborn arse, you know where to find me. Meantime, I need air." Without awaiting the man's response, he ducked back out into the hallway and shut the door behind him, and waited for Theo to finish whatever busy work he'd gone in there to pretend to do.
Theo remained inside for quite some time, the only sounds from in the room being the quiet drag or thump as things were shifted about or a more solid thud followed by quiet cursing. When he did finally emerge, there was dust on his clothes, especially on his knees and where he had wiped dirty hands on his rear, a cobweb in his hair, and a redness about his eyes.
He nodded to Fletcher as he exited looking hesitant to say something but very much like there was something deeply on his mind. An overflowing crate with old toys in it pull at his frame as he held it firmly by the handles in front of himself.
"I need to bring this downstairs for donation," he finally said before turning to walk back down the hall. The silence from him was as heavy in the air as it was upon his shoulders. They did not get far though before he abruptly stopped and turned his head to look at his bodyguard.
"I don't know how to rely on others...it's not stubbornness. Not intentionally at least. I'm sorry."
Fletcher returned Theo's gaze, and there was a flicker of understanding behind his sternness, and then a brief moment of gratitude and something more. Then he remembered himself and went right back to being gruff and irritable. "Yeah. Well. It's been how many months? Learn to. You're stuck with me, now." He didn't dare continue their previous conversation outside of the safety and privacy of a locked room, but he resolved, begrudgingly, to bring it up again when he could.
Still, after what had just happened, he pointedly avoided helping with the box. If Theo wanted to punish himself with busy work, chances were that he'd refuse the offer, anyway. So they made their way slowly down the stairs and into the kitchen, the nobleman staggering under the weight of too many things and Fletch following behind him like a lazy housecat.
Why did his words feel like such a balm? It was like a hug they couldn't physically engage in being told that Fletcher was refusing to leave his side. Theo tried not to think too hard on how much it contrasted the last man he had professed to love, how Elijah had left after swearing to forever remain at his side in unwavering loyalty. But, with Fletcher it felt more real and less like obligation. Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes that he blamed on the dust as he considered the notion that his bodyguard might also leave him. It wasn't like he hadn't heard the words before. But when Fletcher said them it felt like a promise, a declaration; and if all they ever had was friendship then Theo decided he could accept those few scraps of affection for not being alone.
He plopped the crate down on the counter, earning a frown from Kenna as dust puffed up around him making him sneeze delicately. His cheeks flushed in embarrassment as he quietly apologized and called for Aneisha.
"I thought you could pick through these and take some to gift to your siblings? The rest I want to donate to the orphanage after having you clean them all up. You can throw away anything beyond help though. I know most of this is likely absolutely filthy at this point from neglect and I'm so sorry."
The scullery maid's eyes lit up as she all but pounced on the box and began dragging out the dusty contents. Sack balls, carved wooden animals, a pair of stick horses, dolls in near perfect condition, a wooden recorder, a jar of small thin discs of different colors, and a string of bells were all removed one by one with various expressions of amusement and curiosity from Aneisha.
"You played with dolls?" She asked in surprise. Theo's eyes were focused instead though on the last item. He brushed his thumb against one of the bells with an expression of nostalgia and melancholy. The maid wiggled one of the dolls with its pressed clothes and like-new form at Fletcher in amusement as if to ask 'can you believe this?'
Fletcher leaned back from the dust and shot Kenna a look to tell her that none of this was his idea. Watching Neish pull the toys out, though, he softened into a kind and poignant smile that was rather uncharacteristic of him these days. She was so much like Zoey still. He'd been an ass to her, and he'd never apologized for it, and here she was, still sweet as could be. He chuckled quietly at the doll in her hand. "I dunno. If they were pirates in his mind, I could see him finding his way to liking them," he joked. "Just a hunch."
He glanced up at Theo to see if the man had caught him saying it, hoping to watch him turn red with embarrassment. But he knew that look. It was the same one Fletcher made when a reminder appeared of someone he'd lost. Theo was somewhere else just then. Fletcher's smile left him and he looked to the floor for a moment before catching himself and gluing it back on for the women. "What do you think they'd want?" he asked Neish in an attempt to steer the conversation away from wherever it was that Theo had just gone.
Theo's eyes slid back to the present. He'd missed the ongoing conversation again. How was it that it happened more and more these days? He would just start to fade and retreat back into his mind, his eyes glazing over only to be startled back into focus by a waving hand or banging fist. The Baroness had been on a rant for weeks now about his current rudeness. The only saving grace was that he'd been able to use his 'feelings' for Edwina as an excuse for being so distracted of late.
He looked over at the doll in Aneisha's hand and Fletcher's attempt to redirect. "I think your sister would like the one in the blue dress better. You mentioned once she likes blue."
Aneisha paused and looked to the other doll. "You're right. I didn't realize you remembered that. I think my brothers would like the stick-horses."
"Then they are yours...provided Smuggler Jack doesn't decide to expand into horse thievery so he can become a highwayman on us."
The young woman giggled. "Does Captain Neish need to defend her horses?"
Fletcher recoiled like he'd been slapped. Surely Theo hadn't meant it like that, but nevertheless, he couldn't stop the arrow from hitting Ash again. And again. And again, and now it was back full-force: the memory he'd tried to shove away. The one that had retreated to his nightmares until now. By the time he'd gotten it under control, ten seconds must have passed without a word from him. He swallowed and blinked rapidly and returned his attention to Aneisha. As he spoke, he reached a hand beneath his coat and fumbled with something in an inner pocket. "No," he said distractedly. "Horses are all yours, Neish. Erm. If you'll...if you'll all excuse me a minute."
Fletch wove around Theo and pushed out the servant's entrance and onto the grounds without so much as a backwards glance. He followed the house until he'd found a spot out of sight of the guards, then pulled his flask from his pocket and upended it, desperate to quiet his mind.
It took Theo a moment to understand the ashen horror upon Fletcher's face. Only once the man had stumbled past him, practically running out the door did it finally click into place. Ashley was dead. He'd died in the road to highwaymen. And Fletcher still blamed himself for something that was entirely Theodore's fault.
"Aneisha why don't you pack these things up for yourself to send home and get to cleaning the rest. I'm sure Kenna would very much like the use of her kitchen back.
"I'll be right back," he added, quietly stepping out to see where Fletcher had disappeared to. Theo rounded a corner in time to see his bodyguard downing liquid courage from his flask and instead of confronting him, decided upon a quiet retreat.
The man clearly wanted and needed privacy and Theo found himself with no desire to rush him out of it. With Orz dead, it was not as if there was any real physical threat to Theo anymore anyway. Fletcher could drink on the job and the young master of the house would wisely keep his mouth shut to others on the matter. Yet, in the back of his mind a small niggling feeling worked through his thoughts. Fletcher was not doing well at all if he'd started drinking on the job.
Fletch returned a minute later a great deal more composed than he had been all day. As he stepped in and closed the door quietly behind him, Kenna shot him a knowing look that was half concern and half warning. He ignored it. Of course she knew. He was sure half the staff did at this point. As long as she didn't say anything about it, he'd be fine. It wasn't any of their business, anyway. It didn't affect his ability to do his job. He'd just wait until after midwinter and then he'd pick himself off the ground and it would be like there was never any issue at all. All he had to do was hold out until then.
He surveyed the kitchen. It looked like Theo and Neish were done picking through the toys already, as the maid had gotten busy moving them off the table. That string of bells glinted and jingled as she stuffed it back into the box, and Fletcher wondered again what Theo had seen when he touched them. "Any more to bring down?" he asked the man. "Or was that it?"
Theo glanced up as Fletcher re-entered but looked away just as quickly in time to catch Kenna's look. It seemed that he was not the only one aware of what Fletcher had gone and done. It did cause the nobleman to wonder though not only how many people knew, but also how long it had been going on for. Was it something he should be concerned about? His heart said yes but it was such an unreliable decision-maker and he could not bring himself to trust it. And if he said anything, would Fletcher even listen? It wasn't Theo's business. But they were friends so maybe it was?
Aneisha slapped the flat of her hand down on the table several times, the vibration catching Theo's attention where he still leaned up against it.
"Where's your head at?" She signed. "Jack asked you if there's more to bring down."
"I'm sorry," he signed and spoke aloud before continuing to speak only. "Honestly, probably. I wasn't exactly thorough or organized in my explorations. I should probably just drag them out into the hall and go through them that way. You can send Tiff up if you think the dust and boredom will bother you though."
"Why would it?" Fletch frowned before catching on that Theo had given him an out. But he didn't need one. He was just fine, now. "Nah. Come on. Let's get this done with. I need something to do after having to deal with Miss Priss. Can only put up with it for so long." He winced after he said it. He supposed he should watch his tongue a bit more. They might be among safe company now, but badmouthing the future lady of the house wasn't the best habit to get into. Still, all it earned him was a giggle from Neish and a disapproving shake of the head from Kenna, which grew even fiercer as he nicked a biscuit from the table and headed back up the stairs.
The nobleman also cast a concerned look at the slight to his future bride, his eyes anxiously looking to the other two before his shoulders relaxed some. He worried still that people would begin to talk. As much as he wanted to break ties with Edwina, he needed it to be on his terms and not hers. She had to be the one found at fault so as to protect him and all he was responsible for.
He nodded his head and trudged back up the flights of stairs and down the hall to the storage room. "It'll be good to get rid of everything though I guess," he spoke abruptly. "Not like they're going to suddenly have a second child."
Fletcher made a face like he was about to be sick. "That is the last thing I want to think about," he grumbled as he held the door open and followed in after the man. "Sorry, by the way," he added quietly. "That was stupid of me. I'll be more careful."
He snorted and entered first before waving his hand in dismissal. "We all have our moments. I doubt either of them are too partial to my fiance either way. But, aye might be wise.
"Can you help move the ones on that shelf into the hall while I get these? This place has been such a wreck since—" Theo caught himself and shook his head, dragging out more things into the hall to sort through. "Mother and her nerves: the reason nothing gets thrown away. Hopefully she doesn't catch me doing this."
Navigating the narrow confines of the storage room felt less like an impossible dance of avoidance now that he had a little whiskey in him. It didn't stop his heart from starting up again, or his fingers from tingling, but maybe that was just his body fighting the booze. Yeah. That was it. Don't kid yourself, he thought, and got to work moving the boxes.
The chore was a salve for the many dark and forbidden places his mind seemed to wander to as of late. Movement always did help, whether it took the form of fighting, or labor, or something else. Much as he suspected that this busy work was Theo's own way of coping with his fiancée, he'd take the distraction, and gladly. By the end of it, though, the same dust that had affected the nobleman earlier had now settled into his lungs, manifesting as a particularly persistent and wheezing cough. "Fuck me. Seriously?" he muttered as he stopped to press a hand against the wall and lean over until he could catch his breath. Maybe he needed to slow it down on the smoking, after all.
"Why don't you sit and take a break," Theo offered gently. "I know it's a lot of dust and you're probably not used to all the pollen and plants and things with you not being from around here. I'll start going through this mess first."
He sighed and plopped down on the ground, opening the first box in front of him. A flurry of moths shot into his face making him cough and shake his head. Theo shoved the box aside and went for another one instead, albeit a bit more hesitantly. When nothing happened, he began to more fully unpack.
Broken baubles, garlands made of dried orange slices and cranberries, candle holders, and a box of gnawed on candles all came out reverently one by one. Theo chuckled softly as a metal tin came out next and he gave it a shake. A whooshing sound came from within and his face fell some. He placed it back down with the other things and moved onto a worn collection of nutcrackers.
"I haven't seen these things in a very, very long time. I didn't realize we even still had them. Starting to wonder if Mother is a pack rat rather than a noblewoman. Rat in a dress." He snorted and looked to Fletcher, as if to judge how they were doing in terms of dinging each other with accidental emotional bumps and scrapes.
"No, no. Stop that rubbish, I'm fine," Fletch insisted. He headed back into the storage room and lugged the rest of the boxes out one by one, though at a considerably slower pace this time, and with a look of irritation etching creases between his brows. He set each one down with a little less care than the last, then leaned against the wall over Theo and caught his breath as subtly as he could possibly manage.
"'S a disservice to rats," he replied as he craned his neck to look into the box. He couldn't say he'd seen so much useless shit packed away in all his life. Shipping crates of food and sundries and ore he could wrap his head around. Flea market collections — sure. They were meant to sell, to go somewhere. But this? It really was a rat's collection. "Can't say I understand it. Is this what nobles do? Hoard things and forget about them?"
He shrugged slightly and moved onto the next box full of frilly, girly baby clothes. "I imagine when you have a traumatic life event you try to bury it all away and eventually you just forget it ever existed. Except when you're my mother everything troubles your nerves and so everything must be buried."
Theo pointed to each of the open boxes. "A daughter you never actually had. A Yule ruined by a sickly son. A mass exodus of servants over a rumored family scandal. I think if it was me it would just all be crates and crates of books. All because I ran out of shelf space in the entire house for more.
"What would your dragon hoard be?"
Fletcher's eye widened for just a moment. He'd expected jokes and maybe a little argument — the usual. He hadn't expected something heavy and profound and laden with poignant history. And what did Fletch bury? He knew it wasn't what Theo was asking. The man didn't want him to dig up old pains for the sake of casual discussion. Still, it gave him pause as he touched on each and every box that he'd nailed shut and shoved away into the dark recesses of his mind.
But what would he collect until it had gone somewhere to gather dust? No one had ever asked him this. His dreams of excess as a child had been of food. As a young man, they'd been of money and power and women. Now, what did he collect? Besides cigarette butts and empty bottles and new scars, there wasn't much. It seemed strange to think about it so plainly: that he didn't aspire to riches anymore. That that part of him was long gone, and that whatever he wanted now — for the dead to return, for a friend to be free — was both intangible and beyond his reach. And how did you hoard those wants in boxes, and store them to gather dust?
"I don't know," he said truthfully. "If I had the money to own a house with its own storage rooms, I suppose I wouldn't choose to own the house at all...I'd be sailing again. To have something to do, mind. And people to do it with. So there'd be nothing to store, and nowhere to store it, save on the floor of a cramped cabin right next to the piss bucket," he finished with a cynical smirk.
"...why do you stay on land then? There's plenty of ships you can have. Plenty more that would have you. If your heart longs for it that much, what stops you? Or...is it him?"
Theo couldn't ask if he was the reason. He was too afraid to know the answer, to be that which Fletcher resented most, to be what he considered least. It was hard to say what would hurt more; being the reason someone didn't get to do what they most desired or meaning nothing to them.
Fletcher cocked his head. The smirk softened and he peered curiously down at Theo as he considered what he'd been asked. There were a lot of answers to that question. Some of them he could say aloud. One of them wasn't wise to think about, let alone tell the man. "You fishing?" he joked before growing a bit more serious. "No, it's...I don't want to work under another captain, that's all. And I'm too...y'know...old to start out again as some arsehole's swabbie. I'd sail if the ship was mine. If I got to pick the crew. But that takes more money than I'll ever see in my lifetime, Theo. And besides, land has its own benefits. Can't tell you how shite it is to ration everything. So as I said: you're stuck with me."
He turned away to cough again, then returned his easy smile to the nobleman. "You really want me to be a pirate, don't you?"
Theo blushed and looked horrified trying to sputter and back pedal even as Fletcher joked. He listened intently and it all certainly made sense. Restarting your life became more exhausting each time you did it and at some point it started to seem less worth it in his experience.
He stared up at his bodyguard, eyes intense with sincerity despite the dark flush still lingering in his cheeks. "I really want you to be happy. Pirate, bodyguard, or otherwise. You're not one of my books. You're real."
His lips hung open before he realized he was doing it and snapped his mouth shut. How did a man even respond to that? To something raw and simple and kind? Theo had once again found a thing he'd never been told and had said it to him in such a way that he'd had no warning, no chance to put his guard up. His eye left the man's and found his boots instead. "Yeah. Well," he murmured. "Life doesn't like to give us happy, does it? Either of us."
Fletch scratched his stubble, lost in thought for a moment longer before he found his catlike balance again. He looked back up at his friend and knew then that he wanted the very same for him: freedom and happiness. A simple life. And he found himself once again wishing that he could be the one to pry Theo loose and take him there. It was a stupid thought. A dangerous thought. And Theo would go kicking and screaming the whole way, unless they found the right path forward.
"But these are the cards we've been dealt," Fletch added. "We do with 'em what we can. We make the most of the misery. And we don't fold until there's nothing left to gain. So I'm bodyguard, now, until this is finished. However it ends."
"How ominous," he commented with a nod of agreement. "Well, I hope you gain what you want then and it's everything you hope for and more."
Theo sighed and returned to the crates. As they emptied he began to refill them into categories of things to throw, things to keep, things to give away, and things to display. Among the memories and junk he found more toys: soldiers, horses, and ships, more Yule decorations, some of which were still usable, baby memorabilia that actually belonged to him and not the expectation of him, and a lot of moths and moth-eaten clothes.
By the time he was done, Theo was directing Fletcher in putting the crates back in some semblance of order. The things for the rubbish heaps were left in a stack by the door for another servant to handle but the three additional boxes of toys still required bringing back down.
"Do you think you can carry one and I'll get the other two? Save us a trip back up here?"
Fletcher's rather wistful and determined expression fell promptly into one of irritation. How had Theo taken a statement of loyalty and interpreted it so badly? "'S not ominous," he complained, but it fell — quite literally — on deaf ears. It seemed Theo was done with that conversation, because he'd returned to his sorting and began to issue orders to Fletcher on where to return the boxes. After all was said and done, Fletch was once again out of breath, and he leaned against the hallway wall again to catch it. "Damn this dust," he muttered, but he stood up straight when Theo asked him to carry a box. "Well sir, I just don't know how I'll manage," he jabbed as he bent to lift it. "So glad you're here to do the heavy lifting."
"One of us has to," he quipped back while struggling some under the strain of lifting two. There was stubbornness written in the lines of his body. While the months of training with Fletcher had strengthened him some, his bodyguard remained the stronger of the two of them. And yet Theo felt such a desperate need to prove himself as strong and capable. It was as if a small part of him still quietly begged for Fletcher to change his mind, to love him and want him without holding back as he was. He wanted to be a worthy partner. He wanted to not be seen as some frail, weak bird in need of constant care and protection.
But, as he dragged the crates down into the kitchen again with every muscle screaming in protest, Theo did not think he could feel any more pathetic. He was breathing hard with beads of sweat on his brow by the time he was done but the solid thump of them being placed down allowed him a soft cry of triumph.
"Well that wasn't so bad," he commented while turning to beam over at Fletcher. It was in the light of the open kitchen window that Theo was able to take in the other man's appearance properly and oh how he giggled.
"You're so dusty," he laughed. "I think you need a bath. You look like you lost a fight against a spider."
Fletch raised a brow. "Speak for yourself. You look like a ghost became a ghost," he shot back. Still, at the sound of Theo's laughter, he allowed himself a quiet chuckle. "But...yeah. Probably should go clean up. Dust is getting to me more than I thought. And someone probably doesn't want cobwebs getting in the soup," he added with a nod at Kenna.
"Ooo~," Theo replied raising his hands and pretending to be spooky. He apologized to Kenna before motioning with his head back to the stairs.
"Back up we go! I need a bath desperately. I feel like I have hundreds of little bugs crawling all over me. Silly moths get me every time," commented while trudging off to the second floor but this time into his rooms.
Once inside he lowered his voice as he looked over Fletcher. "Would you like to use my bath to get yourself cleaned up first? Alone. Keeps you from getting in trouble for tracking stuff all over the house or for leaving your post. I don't mind waiting."
Fletch followed along behind him, frowning in his confusion at being directed upstairs and away from the servants' washrooms. That frown quickly disappeared into more coughing and wheezing, and by the time he reached the top of the stairs, his lungs itched fiercely again. "Never letting you rope me into this again," he managed as they made their way down the hall and into Theo's room.
Maybe the man just wanted to wash up first. That was fine. Fletch wasn't fussed. "I'll just wait out there," he began before the nobleman spoke up. At Theo's offer, though, he stopped mid-turn and his brow went up again. He looked Theo over like he was short a few marbles. "Don't you think that's a bit of a terrible idea?" he murmured.
Theo shrugged and plopped down into one of his chairs. A cloud of dust surrounded him at the movement making him sneeze and cough and shake his head as if to disperse it away from his face and not send more of it from his hair into his face.
Once he was settled, a little red from embarrassment but trying desperately to play it cool, Theo plucked up his book and opened it as if to read.
"It's only terrible if you get caught. Best be quick about it then."
Fletcher continued to stare at him with that same incredulous look as the man turned away and calmly found a place to lounge. A few seconds passed in silence. He looked behind him at the door, then back at Theo, who seemed determined to maintain a false air of mild disinterest. He tutted. "You're a shit," he grumbled finally, and went to turn the lock. He strode quickly for the washroom, pointing an accusatory finger as he passed. "An absolute shit," he repeated. "You know that?" Then he disappeared behind the screen and away from Theo's view.
Fletch wasn't as quick about it as he should have been, though. At the sight of that room again, his mind wandered to the last time he'd been here. To fading in and out, ears ringing, as Theo cleaned the blood and mud and ashes from his skin. To the water running red off Theo's hair. He looked down at the tub. He realized then that he didn't want to use it. He didn't want to be so vulnerable in a room full of memories — especially ones as tangled up in grief and touch as those.
He rounded the screen again, just as dusty as before, though now burdened with a quiet seriousness that he hadn't been when he entered. "I'll just use my room," he informed Theo. "You use yours. Knock when you're done."
Theo pretended he didn't see the man's words from the corner of his eye but the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth said otherwise as did the soft poorly restrained snort. He firmly kept his feet in the ground to sense for approaching footsteps and an eye to the bedroom door when Fletcher came right back out none the better.
There was an air of reservation surrounding the man that sobered Theo's teasing mood in an instant. His book was easily and quickly discarded as he got to his feet in concern and called softly after the man.
"Jack..." Theo hesitated. The gap between them was too large for him to reach across with the amount of care and concern he so desperately wanted to offer. What could he say to offer comfort? Would it even be accepted?
Theo smiled weakly and nodded his head as he headed the way Fletcher had come from. "Thank you. I'll let you take care of yourself. I shouldn't be long," he claimed before making his own retreat, still too much of a coward to do what his heart screamed for him to.
His own room was better. His mind could be quiet here — and it quieted down even further with another nip or two of whiskey. Or three. Or four. He lost count, honestly. Did it out of habit while he filled the basin and found a cloth and cleaned the dust and cobwebs off. Then he refilled his flask and slid it back in his coat pocket, took the thing off, and cleaned it, too. Then his trousers and boots. His breathing eased as the dust died down. That was a relief. Sometimes, when he'd get a bit of a smoker's cough, he did wonder if the rest would come back. But so far, nothing.
When he was done, Fletch poured a glass of clean water and washed the smell of whiskey out of his mouth. He caught sight of himself in the mirror as he did: tired and troubled and bloodshot, and maybe a little guilty. He straightened his back and forced his face to do anything else but give away the weight of his habit. Then he sat down on the bed and picked at his nails and waited for Theo.
Ensconced in the safety of the bathing chamber where the likelihood of being perceived was next to none. He braced himself on the basin before the mirror and took in the sorry sight of him. Cobwebs and dust coated his hair, his face, his brows, his clothes. There was not an inch of him not covered in grime and for a moment he had to laugh hollowly at it all.
Theo remembered standing in front of the mirror and a pretty future Baron staring back. Yet, the vagabond before him felt more true to himself. Is this how it would have been if he and Elijah had been successful all those years ago in running away? Dirty, weary, but happy? Would he have truly been happy? He had thought then that he was but he hadn't know Fletcher back then.
"Oh Jack," he sighed softly while turning on the water to the tub and beginning to wash up. "What am I doing to you?"
It was as he knelt in front of the tub though to wash his hair that a memory resurfaced. Ice crept down his spine and suddenly he realized what may have upset Fletcher so much. The last time he had knelt at this tub or had his hair washed over it was that awful, soul-wrenching night. And as far as he could remember, Fletcher hadn't been back in this room since.
Tears welled in his eyes. Theodore felt sick with guilt and disgust. How could he have been so foolish and callous? How could he have cracked jokes so thoughtlessly? How did Fletcher keep managing to come back after each sting? Was that why he drank? Was Theo driving him mad with everything? Was this a regular occurrence? How long had it been going on for before Theo saw?
He hastened with scrubbing up and changed even faster before giving a gentle knock to the door. "All good, Jack." Theo kept his back to the door, too afraid to face Fletcher lest he attempt to fly into his arms and embrace him again. Instead he focused his efforts on very poorly attempting to stoke the fire and add more wood to it as if he could transfer the flames of his affection or burn them away.
He jumped at the knock. He'd let his mind wander back to that night again, exploring every fold and ripple of want and anguish, and before he knew it, minutes had passed and Theo was done. Fletch shook his head at where he'd allowed himself to go. There was no good that could come of lingering there, and yet, with a little drink in him and that spark of memory in the washroom, he was a moth to flame at every thought of holding Theo. Of running his hands through Theo's hair, and holding his face to clean the wound. It just reminds you of him, that's all, he thought bitterly as he rose from the bed. It scared him that this was the trade that whiskey offered: a moment of peace for a loss of discipline. He wanted both, damn it. He needed both.
After taking a second to compose himself, Fletch passed back through the door and found Theo by the hearth. He stopped and watched for a moment, eye darting between the nobleman and the haphazard stack of wood, before finally speaking up. "You trying to burn the house down, or...?" But Theo couldn't read him, obviously, with his back turned like that. Grumbling beneath his breath, he approached the fireplace and knelt, snatching the fresh wood back out of the flames and leaning it against the hearth. "Can I show you? So you don't kill us all? And then we should, you know...figure out this business with your fiancée."
Theo startled as Fletcher knelt down into view and jerked the wood back he had been trying to set to flame. Sheepishly he nodded his head and signed 'yes,' as if speaking would draw more attention to his embarrassing attempts.
He moved back to sit in his chair, his face looking far more grey and drawn than when he'd been covered in aging cobwebs and dust. "Do you have any thoughts or suggestions on the matter? I'm afraid I still don't know exactly what to do. I'm afraid of making things worse or putting you at greater risk again. I am sorry by the way I left you two alone. I never considered she'd be so...slimy."
"Here," Fletch muttered. He added half the wood back, scraping the hot coals into a unified bed and setting the logs up lengthwise in an orderly fashion. "Building a bloody bonfire in the damned house," he tutted to no one as he fixed what Theo had started. After it was done, he stood and turned towards the nobleman, wiping his sooty hands off on his coat. "I don't," he replied with a wince. "Not more than I've already said. You know it's not my world. If she was common, I could have it sorted in a week. But she's one of you, so...I'll help, but you've got to tell me what we're doing." He paused, frowning and looking Theo over. "Something wrong? You look a bit peaky."
He started to shake his head and opened his mouth to brush it aside and then stopped. There was a pause as he failed to immediately answer and then when he did it was spoken very calmly and softly.
"I feel guilty for how I've treated you and how I continually blunder into upsetting you. It is not your problem to fix or manage though and I don't want you to worry too much on it. I will sort myself out, I promise."
Theo sighed and motioned for Fletcher to sit if he wanted. "What would you have done if she had been common? Perhaps we can start there."
Fletcher's frown deepened. "How you've treated me?" he repeated in honest confusion. "What — better than anyone's treated me in my life? Yeah, it's awful. Truly. I'm really upset, Theo. Can't you tell?" He snorted dismissively and shook his head, opting to cross his arms and lean on the mantle rather than sit. "And I already told you how I'd do it. A honey trap seems straightforward enough in a world with my rules and not yours. Here, though...I dunno. With how everything's gone lately, I'd just as likely make things worse, and I wouldn't see it coming."
Theo looked to him, his entire expression disbelieving what Fletcher said before sinking into sorrow. Were Theo's blinders really the best anyone had ever treated his bodyguard? Was the man just so happy to have something that he'd accept anything without realizing or acknowledging, perhaps even defending how much the nobleman kept making things harder, more complicated, and worse for him at every turn.
He felt it best to not comment further. "And you said you did not wish to be alone with her nor proceed in this manner. Therefore, we need a different plan. Do you think she actually has someone? Or was she just trying to undermine me? The other question is how badly do we wish to destroy her and her reputation. Because we could utterly destroy her but it would leave her with no future or prospects most likely."
"Never said it'd be me as bait," Fletch scowled. "If Ash were still around, he'd be bloody perfect for it, you know?" The whiskey eased the pain of the man's memory and he chuckled a little at the thought, but at the sight of Theo's seriousness, he cleared his throat and kept going. "Someone prettier and younger, anyway. Doubt she'd actually go for a wrinkled, eyeless arsehole except to try to grind me under her boot. So it's not off the table if we can find someone else. And...I don't know. I couldn't tell. I know games, but not these games. She wants leverage, that's all I can make of it. And she's willing to stir up trouble to get it. But she's young. She can't be that good at it, Theo — I refuse to believe it. She's got to slip up at some point. So maybe that's your answer: play ignorant, watch, and wait. As for how much you want to burn it all to the ground...well. You know what I'd do. But last time we tried that, it came back to bite someone we cared about, so...tread lightly, I suppose."
Dark sadness deflated Theodore's shoulders and smothered the light in his eyes. While he had not grown as close to Ash as he was to Fletcher, the loss still deeply grieved him. "Some people just find that attractive," he commented quietly without thinking.
Fletcher blaming himself however did bring Theo's inner fire back to life. "None of that was your fault!" He exclaimed not for the first time. "I was the one that started the bar brawl AND the tantrum in the marketplace. I was the one that set it all ablaze. You just keep being left with the pieces to pick up and try and make sense of. I don't want that to be the case here. I want to work with you not against you, and not just do things myself."
Theo looked over at Fletcher, the corner of his lip caught between his teeth as he hesitated. "...have you still not found a replacement for Ashley yet?"
Fletcher's ears went hot at that comment. He tilted his chin up and squinted down his nose at Theo, one eyebrow arched as he scrutinized the man. "And some people have a pirate fetish," he opined. "Lucky me."
He was caught off guard, though, as Theo once again fervently insisted that that night at the market was squarely on his shoulders and not Fletcher's. He pushed off from the mantle, crossed arms tightening into a knot. Where Theo's voice had risen, his lowered until it was nearly a whisper. "I promised you nothing would go wrong, and then I was stupid and took you somewhere I shouldn't. Because I wanted a drink, Theo. None of it would have happened if I'd been smart and stuck to the plan."
Fletch groaned and rubbed his face, then shoved the hand back under his bicep. "Can we not do this again? Make everything into an argument? You want to work with me, so...work with me. And...no." He looked to the side, lips pursed. The muscles in his jaw tensed as he ground his teeth and tried to wrest control of himself. "If your dad wants him replaced, he's going to need to wait. Or make Niles do it, I — "
He looked back at Theo. It was unclear whether the redness in his eyes was from drink or lack of sleep or from holding back what he did now. "Can't do it now. Not on top of everything," he finished.
Had Theo been in a better mood he might have protested that his feelings for Fletcher had nothing to do with pirates and fantasies. However, he simply sighed and allowed the conversation to continue. While he could see how it pained Fletcher to consider a replacement for Ash, he also knew he had to gently push the matter.
"Jack," he began softly, "I understand how difficult this is. And I understand it is a risk you don't want to take with someone else. However, if I might suggest there is a possibility that someone could be hired who...could fit the role we need played. Someone either known for such a lack of scruples or someone willing to be a co-conspirator. We just don't have the right staff to accomplish this currently...that is of course unless you want to send Dewey into the lioness den," he jested.
"I don't want to bring anyone like that around you," Fletch countered. "I don't want someone sneaky coming in here and acting like Orz, or spreading lies, or...finding you out, you know? Not when you've got to spend a quarter of your time with them. There's no one out there I can think of who'd check the boxes. And if it's someone I don't know, it'll be months after hiring them before I can size them up properly, and — "
He stopped. Uncrossed his arms, and scratched his chin, and began to pace. "No. Wait," he muttered, sinking deeper and deeper into thought, until at last he came up for air and turned back to Theo with the slightest hint of a smirk. "You're going to hate me for this," he said sheepishly. "But...The Siren employs men, if you know how to ask for them. That unscrupulous enough for you?"
His words shouldn't have sparked a tingle of warmth in his chest at Fletcher's protectiveness. It wasn't as if it was is literal job or anything after all. A part of him wanted to defend that he had managed to keep his sexuality to himself relatively well. But, he also knew when it came to his lead bodyguard, he was becoming very shaky on keeping his true feelings hidden. Niles had already caught them. Tiffany and Bertrand already knew. It was a mess. Fletcher was right. It was best to not let Theo be placed on a sacrificial altar of what if.
He remained impassive as he processed Fletcher's counter suggestion. A gentleman of the night would certainly Know how to play a part and a good one would understand discretion. Additionally when it was all over and he was summarily fired, he'd very likely have a job to return to; a fact Theodore was relieved regarding given he would feel absolutely guilty over costing someone a job.
"If he consents and you trust his post-matter discretion regarding our involvement then the only issue I imagine is the cost. I highly doubt a guard's position equates to the same hourly wages of...other pursuits. That would be a rather large loss of income unless he can manage balancing supplemental work in the evening. Assuming of course that The Siren lacks client quotas of its...caretakers."
Theo was pragmatic about it. Good. He'd expected jealousy and when everything seemed to turn into arguments with the man, he was grateful not to add this to the list. That didn't change the fact that it was a delicate subject, especially in light of their recent conversation, and Fletch maintained his sheepishness as he replied. "Erm," he chuckled. "Well, I...haven't visited any men there myself, I just...know you can. So it'd take me a minute to assess our options. Not...assess assess. I wouldn't be going there to — I'd just..."
He trailed off and cleared his throat, returning to his usual gruffness. "Anyway, er...give me a week to sort it. I'm sure we could figure out an arrangement. Even taking a pay cut, I'd imagine they all want a bit of a break from time to time, especially if it means being somewhere clean and nice. If not, and you can make up the difference with your allowance, it might be enough. And they're all independent, there. You wouldn't need to worry about a madam or quotas."
Fletcher stopped and squinted suspiciously. "Thought you said you didn't get out much. How'd you know all this?"
He didn't bat an eye as Fletcher blundered his flustered way through discussing what he knew from secondhand versus personal experience. A small deeply buried secret part of him was smug over the knowledge that Fletcher didn't have firsthand experience. But, this he was quick to mentally smother and keep from getting any hopes up that it had anything to do with him. For all he knew it had to do with his husband and whatever vows or promises they made each other.
"I'll leave it up to you then. My only stipulation to you is that you ensure he understands no one else here is to get swept up in scandal. If he's feeling lonely he can go to town. We don't want Aneisha or one of the maids to end up tossed out as well and I know you will agree with me on that."
Theo bore the squinting without shying away at all. His face was as neutral and impassive as if the topic at hand was how unseasonably dry the winter was and it was the seventh time that day he'd heard it. "I haven't and I don't. But they are citizens of the town as well and their livelihoods and voices matter just as much as the next man or woman's. Or was your concern rather that I might be getting more fun than you? Because the answer is decidedly no I'm not."
Fletch looked the slightest bit affronted at the idea that he'd drag anyone home who'd get caught up with one of the women. "No. Come on, now, you know me better than that. I'm three for three. I've found good ones so far and that's not about to change, even if he is temporary. And you already know what'll happen to any man gets within a foot of Neish with impure intentions. So don't go acting like I do any of this lightly just because it's where I go to blow off steam."
He paused, jaw clenching again, struggling to come to terms with something and put it into words. "And I have a stipulation, too," he added. "He's not to be expected to fight. He can't be put in danger. If there's an attack on your person for any reason, he runs and hides with the rest of the staff."
His affront returned as Theo made a jab at him, and his eyebrows raised in incredulity. "I dunno, Theo. Do you want me to be concerned?" he asked pointedly. Then he shook his head, both at the idea and at what had just spilled out of his mouth. He let loose a dark little chuckle and shot Theo a cold and devilish grin. "Well, now I'll have brought the brothel to you. Have all the fun you want. I don't care."
"That isn't what I said. I know you wouldn't and you choose well. I just am stressing that I agree with your choices and that I am not sacrificing their safety for my need to escape this union. That's all I meant."
Theo nodded along in complete agreement with the additional proposed stipulation. "Of course. He'd be here to woo her not to protect me. It's only for show. I don't want it any other way. Can just have him double up with you on days she's here even. Whatever you feel is best really."
He looked away some at the jab, knowing it wasn't uncalled for after his own stings. The grin and coldness paired with the brothel comment hurt deeply. But how could Theo say that wasn't how he wanted his first time to be to a man who clearly was very experienced and had a talent for going for the jugular when slighted? How could he say he was as silly and sad as his books and wanted romance and love-making over paid for intercourse and the fantasy of care? How did he tell him he'd rather go his whole life without than pretend at love?
He couldn't. So he didn't.
But he did wish Fletcher cared. He desperately wanted him to care and yet he just had to be spicy. He just had to push him again and again to get a rise out of him as if being bit back was better affection than the silence, as if the man didn't breathe his care of Theo with every exhale.
"I'm sorry," he said instead. "I did it again." Theo sighed and shook his head. "I don't care if he's the most dashing pirate-looking worker you can find though. I have zero interest. I have nothing against their occupation. I have nothing against those who seek them out," he commented looking Fletcher up and down without judgment. "It just never will be for me. Too many books or something." Theo snorted softly feeling none of the mirth he was trying to portray.
There was a prolonged silence in which his claws retracted. Little by little, his smirk fell and the tension in his shoulders eased. He remained guarded, though. Distant and analytical. He sized up Theo the way Theo had done to him, wondering what in the hell the man wanted. Wondering why his victory over this pissing contest felt so ugly and hollow. Finally, he uttered a single, dismissive grunt. "Alright. Suit yourself, then. I'll let you know when I've found one," he replied, and dropped his arms to his sides. His cold brevity did not relent, and he found himself in need of another drink. "Are you going anywhere? I think I need a lie down."
"No...are you unwell?" Theo sat up straighter and stared at Fletcher in concern. "Do you need a shift change or a healer? I'll stay put and not get into trouble but we can send for someone discretely so there's no trouble."
His eye flashed in annoyance. How did Theo do it? Play innocent like that right after trying to go for the jugular? And how did the man not see how very much he needed to back off right now, before Fletcher bit back again? "I'm fine. Leave it be," he warned, and without another word of explanation he headed for the nanny door.
He physically shrunk at the look knowing immediately in that moment that Fletcher was not sick. He was furious with Theo who had once again stepped in it. Theodore did nothing to stop the other man and remained still long after the nanny door sent vibrations through the floor at being shut.
How did Theo keep doing this? How did he keep spewing hurt at Fletcher and then expect the man to take it and be alright? How did this man manage to break all of Theo's walls into dust? It left the nobleman scared and raw and hungry for more. He said he would be good. He said he'd behave and not fling himself at Fletcher or beg the man to love him and want him.
But, inside he still wanted him. He wanted his attention, his smiles, his scowls, his embraces, his kisses, his touches. He wanted to feel the rumbles of speech and laughter. He wanted intimacy that was more than just sex, that was love and closeness and warmth and he wanted it with Fletcher in a way he'd never wanted it before. He did not think he could ever want it again with someone else. And how deeply that both scared and exhilarated him.
Theo felt as if he was spiraling into a thousand tiny cracks. That at any minute he was going to explode and shatter and left to pick up the pieces of his heart all over again. Everything was far more complicated this time around. Was it maturity? Or was it the intensity that came with everything that Fletcher was and did? Or was it because it was forbidden? He had walked this path before so why was he so tempted to stumble down it again? He said one thing and did another. It must drive Fletcher insane for it surely was doing it to Theo.
He got up from his chair and paced. From door to door back and forth and back and forth he went. Each step a hammer to his heart. Each step as audible as if it was Fletcher's room he paced in. Theo ran his fingers through his damp hair and shook it out again with a soft growl.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, Theodore Ransom Archer? Why can't you do anything right?" He bemoaned aloud as he sunk down onto the edge of his bed suddenly feeling so old and broken down. "He deserves so much better than this. I don't understand why he fucking stays when I act like this. I wouldn't stay...," he exhaled. "I would." Theo sighed again sounding even more aggravated and resigned. "Be better, Theodore! Be better. Be better..."
He shut the door firmly behind him, pulled the flask from his pocket, and downed it. All of it, until the last drop fell on his tongue. And still, like a man dying of thirst, he wanted more. It was never enough these days. It didn't last the way he needed it to, and sooner or later, everything that he'd been desperate to avoid would inevitably creep back and set him off balance. And if it wasn't something within him, it was Theo doing it: reeling him in close until he thought he was safe and then finding the sorest bruise and jabbing at it hard. For what? For fun? For attention? What did he want? Did the man even know?
He paced, anxiously waiting for that fuzzy, hazy warmth to numb this over. His heart beat in his throat, and his nerves felt like fire, and something else burned in him, awakened once again by their latest argument. And he wanted it gone. He needed it to leave. He needed to be aloof and cool-headed and he needed not to care.
Why did he care? He'd said it himself that he didn't. He'd said that if Theo wanted to have a little fun with their newest bodyguard, whomever he may be, that he wouldn't be bothered by it. But he was. He hated it. The thought alone twisted him up inside in a way that it shouldn't have at all. Theo wasn't his. They'd both agreed to leave it be — to back away and not pursue this. So why did he feel so sick at the thought of the man behaving just as freely as he did? Theo didn't get upset when he'd talked about the brothel, after all. The man knew his habits. He knew where he used to go at night.
Oh, but that bothered Fletcher, too. He stopped in his tracks and his eye narrowed at the realization that he'd wanted to see jealousy. He'd hoped for it. He'd instigated this just as much as Theo had, digging for a reaction, looking for a sign that the man wanted him. He scoffed in disbelief. What were they doing? This was madness. Absolute madness. And he wondered if there was even a way out of it, or if they'd simply both been doomed to break and succumb to this siren's call.
It was fortunate that the whiskey had begun to work its magic. He'd found himself wondering. Bargaining. Finding ways around the rules so he could act on his desires. But every path led to pain — his, Theo's, or both. Was there no way forward, after all? Had he condemned himself to an impossible situation, convinced that he could weather it? And if that was the case...why hold back? To keep from hurting Theo a little longer? To keep from hurting himself? He fell backwards on the bed, arms spread wide, and grunted softly as he hit the mattress. He stared up at the ceiling and watched the world begin to spin, willing the booze to sweep through him and cleanse him of this sickness.
And then he heard it: Theo's voice. Theo, talking to himself. Berating himself. Saying Fletcher deserved better. Wanting to do better. And to his surprise, Fletch smiled at the absurdity of it. He laughed quietly and closed his eye. He allowed himself to drift. "What if I don't want you to be better?" he murmured.
In the days that followed, they went back to their careful dance again, stepping gracefully between the pitfalls of their hopes and wants. But he could feel himself slipping. There were moments when he thought the fire in him would sear his insides until it compelled him under the duress of torture to speak it aloud. Each time, the whiskey did less and less to quench it, and when his hands began to shake from the withdrawals, he could no longer deny that he had another, more serious problem. "Turning into you, old man," he said to Ven's memory as he watched his fingers quiver and felt his throat burn for more drink. "Look what you've done to me. We're all bloody hypocrites, now, aren't we?"
But he held it together: every cracked and broken piece of him. If he thought he smelled of whiskey, he'd cover it up with a cigarette. If he began to shake, he excused himself and blamed the cold. He didn't rightly know if anyone could see it. If they did, they didn't tell him, and he preferred it like that. It was none of their damned business, after all. He'd sort it all out eventually. He'd pick himself back up after midwinter, like he'd told himself before, and he'd carry on like nothing happened.
Only...he wasn't sure this time around. He couldn't tell anymore whether he drank to hide from his want of Theo or just to lay Ven and Ash to rest. It all spun together now, each thread inextricable from the twine. And if he didn't know, then he couldn't say for certain that it would get any better in the spring. And then he buried that thought, too, under more whiskey.
He waited through the weekend and chose an off day to visit The Siren. He wanted to do this thing quietly. Correctly. He wanted fewer witnesses — both to this scheme, and to his asking for a man. Still, Lydia gave him one hell of a look when he finally did. "I didn't have you pegged for the type," she snorted. But she sent Fletch along to a room nonetheless, and the man in question entered shortly thereafter.
He was tall. Taller than Theo, even, but certainly not a waifish beanpole. He had light hair that fell to his shoulders, and startling green eyes that could no doubt draw in men and women alike. His tanned skin suggested some southern blood, as did his full lips. Yes. He'd do. He wasn't Fletcher's type, really. He was uncannily good-looking in that shimmery, fairy-like way that the people of this country seemed to find pleasing for some reason. But if Edwina didn't look at him and see stars, then she was blinder than Fletcher's left eye.
"Like what you see?" he asked with an air of supreme confidence.
Fletch chuckled. "For me? No. For the woman I've got in mind? Yeah. Sit down. I've got a proposition for you."
He took some time to consider it — longer than Fletch had anticipated, honestly. But by the third day, delivered in a pretty, perfumed envelope that made Neish do a double take, they had their answer. By the fourth, he'd cleared the new guard with the Baron, and by the fifth, he'd sorted out the new rotation. Now all there was left to do was set the real plan into motion. So at the evening changing of the guard, when the house had quieted for the night, he dismissed Tiff at the door and slipped in with their new honey trap. He approached Theo where the nobleman sat, leaving a respectful distance between them.
"Theo, meet Neal," he began, keeping his voice low. "Neal, this is Theodore Archer. You're going to come to his rescue."
Time was a strange thing. It moved faster and slower on its own terms. Moments you wanted to last forever were over in a blink. Horrors you wanted to end dragged on for what felt like centuries. Theo and Fletcher bounced back into their rhythms as if nothing had happened between them, as if they didn't love each other, and as if they weren't both pretending that they didn't because they simply couldn't.
His bodyguard left in his day off and Theo pretended not to care. His hands shook and more and more he snuck away to drink and Theo pretended not to notice. But his heart knew, and it bled for him. He was doing this to Fletcher, he was sure of it. Driving a man to drink, how often he had heard his father declare he would. He just never imagined the man would be the one he loved. The thought filled his belly with lead.
Then everything was moving all at once and his apparent savior was sweeping into his bedroom with all of the grace and suaveness of a great big hunting cat. Theo nodded to Fletcher as he got to his own feet to greet the newcomer. His brows raised in surprise to find he was actually shorter and found his eyes sweeping up and down the newest addition with something akin to appreciation.
"A pleasure to meet you, sir," he murmured softly, holding his hand out to shake. "I trust Mr. Daw has explained the parameters of your role? Do you have any questions before we proceed with planning?"
Neal took the nobleman's hand in a perfectly soft one of his own and shook it gently. "Enchanted," he replied, eyeing Theo for a moment like he was a client of a different kind. Behind him, Fletcher glared, first at Theo, then at their new bodyguard. But Neal either didn't notice or didn't care. "He did. I must say it sounds like a fun little challenge. Noblewomen usually come to me at the Siren. I don't think I've ever been hired to come to them."
Fletch shifted and crossed his arms, jerking his chin at Theo. "You know her best of all of us. Think she'll like him?" he asked.
"My dear Jackie, everyone likes me," Neal smirked without taking his eyes off of Theo. "Some people just don't know it yet," he added pointedly. "Don't worry, Mr. Archer. I know what I'm doing. I'll take it slow. Build her...intrigue. As with all happy endings."
Theo caught the glare and blushed slightly as he slipped his hand away and motioned for the men to sit. "He's certainly tall enough and warm-toned like you—she's made advances on Mr. Daw already. Also I believe you misheard, his name is Jack, not Jackie. As you'll be acting as a member of my staff it'll be best if there's further no slip ups of this nature in the future.
"And you understand the stipulations that if a fight breaks out for any reason you are to leave and not engage? And that you are not to engage with the staff in your main occupational role? What you do on your own time off the premise is your business however to do as you see fit."
"Yes, yes, he told me all of that," Neal replied with a hint of impatience. "I may not be in a profession you approve of, Mr. Archer, but I'm still a professional. I won't ply my trade with your staff. Not in this house, anyways," he added. "And I have no interest in fighting. I can't imagine what it would do for my business if I were to be cut and scarred. My clientele would be disgusted, no doubt." He shot a flicker of a look at Fletcher, who returned it with a murderous one of his own. "No offense meant. You understand, don't you?"
"I understand that we do not know each other sir. However, I would appreciate it if you did not make assumptions regarding my person and my thoughts. I have a great respect for your profession even if it is not a service I myself partake in. And you will have to forgive me my caution, but I do not know you and I have had staff I knew better who I thought it wise to trust and instead deeply betrayed that trust. I care very much for the people under my family's employ. So please if I have insulted you consider it more about me wanting to protect them from everything within my power and less about deeming you as lesser or unsafe. I take my responsibilities as a future lord and custodian of my land and people very seriously you see."
Neal straightened and tilted his head, still smiling his catlike smile, seemingly unbothered by the fact that Theo had set him straight. "Jack said you were a decent man," he replied. "And here you are, being decent." He lowered himself into the seat offered to him, though he took his time at it as though he acted before a captive audience. Fletch opted to stand, arms crossed, still clearly on edge about the whole affair. His scowl had only deepened at the man's slight against his many scars — though Neal couldn't have known of any of them down past his neck unless the women at The Siren had told him. And that, too, was an unnerving thought.
"Very well," Neal continued as he relaxed into the chair. "We're in agreement, Mr. Archer. It's strictly business here. I'll need to know more about this Edwina woman, though. What she likes. How often she visits. The things she says about where she goes in town, so that I might simply chance to bump into her and work my charms. And you should tell me when you want her gone by. These things take time, as I mentioned, but if your nuptials have a date set, we obviously don't want to dally too long."
His eyes drifted back to Fletcher. Decent? After everything? Theo didn't feel like the decent sort at all and the lead sunk in deeper. He unconsciously fingered the healing but very much angry pink scar that still graced his throat as he too retook his seat deep in thought.
"Spring," he sighed softly. "We haven't picked an exact date but I imagine it will be settled upon soon for when the flowers are in fullest bloom. She likes pretty things, is always dropping her ribbons hoping some mildly attractive man will collect them for her," he eyes Neal up and down again, "and theatre. Lady Obower sings, quite well I'm told. I imagine she listens to similar as well. She is expected tomorrow but if that is too soon for you I understand. You don't need to meet her then. She comes," he looked to Fletcher for confirmation, "two to four times a week as suits her mood. I am not always given warning of her intentions so you'll have to excuse me for lacking more information that.
"The sooner however you can work your charms, the better. I would be greatly disappointed to find you were dallying in your efforts in order to milk the Baron of more funds. I would not consider it if I were you."
The corner of Neal's mouth twitched almost imperceptibly, but he gave no other indication as to whether it had indeed been something he'd been considering. "I'll be here tomorrow, then," he nodded. "I'll be a fly on the wall at first: the perfect gentleman. We'll see where it goes from there." He rose lazily from the chair, brushing his sleeves off as though any amount of dust had gotten on him in this pristine room. "One more thing before I take my leave. When it's time to spring the trap, you should decide if you want to be the one who catches us, or if you'd prefer it be your mother or father. Something to think about. Lovely to meet you, Mr. Archer. You won't be disappointed."
Fletch stepped aside to allow him to slink past and disappear into the hall. The door shut quietly behind him, and then it was just the two of them. Fletcher turned, arms still crossed, and regarded his friend. "Well?" he asked quietly. "Think it'll work?"
"Thank you. I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Have a good evening then," he bade, rising enough to see him out before sinking back into his chair. For several moments he remained silent even as Fletcher awaited his answer. Thoughts milled about in his head before he finally motioned the other man closer.
"I have a request of you but you can say no. I would like you to use your skills to look into him. I do not doubt that he will serve our purposes. I just wish to be prepared should he be tempted to serve his own first. Unless," he looked up at Fletcher to judge his opinion, "you think it unnecessary and overly cautious of me?"
Fletch took a few steps closer, then stopped again. The crease between his brows cut deeper. By the dim light of the fire and the candles, he could have almost seemed sad at what Theo had asked. He took his time, too, in thinking through how best to answer. Even when he had one, he wondered why it felt like such a betrayal.
"It's necessary," he said. "It's smart. I agree with it. I'll do it." He raised his chin a little as if to fight away his guilt. "You know what you're asking, though, right? Playing a player? You know how close I might have to get to be a proper spy?"
Theo stared up at him with clear eyes, unclouded by anything save trust and earnestness. "I may not know the depth, no. But I trust you to keep yourself safe, to only do what it is you want and nothing more, and to tell me when I ask too much of you. Again...if this is not what you want, we'll find another way. Don't sacrifice yourself because the son of a baron asked it of you."
He sighed and licked his lips slightly looking away and then back. "What is your perception of him?"
Fletcher's lips pressed tighter together as he ground his teeth. His eye, intense and flickering in the firelight, never left Theo. His fingers trembled. He shoved them quickly beneath his arm and out of view. "I want to get you out of this," he said. "I'll do what it takes to get you out of this. It's got nothing to do with your station, and it's not a sacrifice when I was the one who suggested it and set it up in the first place. I just...wanted to be clear...because of how we argued before." He swallowed something thick down his throat. Even that was a lie. It was very much a sacrifice. It was very much not a thing he wanted to do.
"I think he's like her," he added. "I think they're so alike that if they don't fall for each other, I'll eat my boots. And maybe that's dangerous, too. He might see her as a meal ticket. He might try to turn on us and the plan. So we need leverage, like you said, just...from a couple angles, to be sure. And if him being a whore isn't enough to discredit him to her, then I'll find that leverage...or I'll forge it."
"No, it is not done out of station I know. I just don't wish your efforts to be so drastic as to...," he trailed off as he tried to find the appropriate words. He didn't want Fletcher to end up destroying himself for Theo. He didn't want to lose the man he loved in his pursuit to set the nobleman free.
"There are other ways. I know you already have much on your plate and I am adding to it with this. But, I would still have your happier self return with the ice melt, and if this would prevent that, then don't do it. I meant what I said to him. I take my role very seriously and I hope you know the depths of my care for you...all."
Fletcher's gaze turned pained again. He unfolded his arms, clenching and unclenching his fists as he began to pace slowly, eye tracking the grooves in the floorboards. Fear and hurt and longing all roiled within him and threatened to burst forth as...what? A declaration? An act he'd regret? He still didn't know what he wanted, and that scared him for Theo's sake. He just knew that he badly wanted it, whatever it was.
He stopped and set a hand to the back of the chair that he still hadn't settled into. A finger absently picked at the upholstery. "There aren't any other ways from where I'm standing," he rasped through a tight, dry throat. "I'm getting you out of this. Even if I can't get you out of it all, this I can do." He looked away for a moment, and his fingers moved to the bracelet that peeked out from under his coat sleeve, as it so often did. He swallowed again, fortifying himself for what he was about to say. "What's coming up. The thing I told you about. It's...when he died. It's just that. It's nothing to do with anything else. So...if I do what I need to do to make this work, it won't affect what I told you. They're separate. Mostly."
Theo watched, his own face twisted in concern and longing. He wanted nothing more than to leap from his chair and drag Fletcher into his arms, to crush him close and beg him to wait until they found another way. But that wasn't what they had agreed on doing. And so Theodore Archer was glued to his chair in anguish as the man he adored paces in self-torment before him.
"Jack," he breathed, his voice filled with gentle compassion. "You can't tell me off for trying to shoulder everything alone and expect me to let you do the same. All these things small and big are adding up and it's crushing you. Can you even live with yourself when everything is over? That is what I'm trying to ask you. Or will you just be a shell drowning himself in alcohol every night to feel something again?"
Tears welled in his eyes that he quickly squeezed away but his brows remained furrowed tightly with his concern. "I worry...," Theo sighed and shook his head. "Do what you think best. I know it's not my place to ask the impossible of you," he swallowed thickly his eyes glassy and vision blurred again. "I am trying very hard to not make decisions for you and smother you. But is this really what you want to do? Or is this what you've decided you must do?"
That hurting, pleading gaze shattered in an instant, and his knuckles tightened on the back of the chair as the color left his face. Had Theo known all along? How long had he kept quiet about this? Before he could even think to stop it, sick rage hit him like a brick and sent him down the path he'd hidden from all this time. Fletcher scoffed. "You think I'm drinking to feel?" he hissed. "You think I want to feel more? Fuck off, Theo." He gripped the chair harder and harder like he meant to tear a chunk from it and throw it at the man. "Ven and Ash dying over and over in my head, and I'm living every day in hell with my husband haunting me while I want a man I can't have, and he thinks I want to feel more of it? Fuck."
Fletch pushed away from the chair and turned his back on Theo, leaning back and gripping his head in his hands. Well. That had just come out. "Fuck," he mumbled up at the ceiling. He ran his hands over his face and took a deep breath and let it out in a long, slow exhale before he was brave enough to face the man again. When he did, the anger had left him. "I'm sorry. That shouldn't have come out. You don't want this. I know it's a bad idea. I know it's... I'm respecting it. I'm...I'm respecting it. But don't you judge me for what I have to do to hold it together."
The blood drained from his face and his heart seemed to freeze in his chest. His chest heaved with breath and panic. "I want this," he rushed to say so fast the words left him barely comprehensible and heavily accented by his native tongue. He surged to his feet without even realizing he was on them, his hands and tongue flying with words as if afraid the moment he was interrupted he would never get to have his words out.
"I want this. I want you and I know that you want nothing to do with all the drama and bars and chains in my life. I know you don't want to be entangled with the stupid mess that is my life and I'm trying so hard to be good, to behave, and yet I can't stop from caring. I worry about you. I'm scared for you. I hate myself every day for being this weak, for not being able to let you go, or be a good friend, for confessing right after tragedy. For saying we couldn't because of the tragedy and not wanting you to think I was confused. For not being greedy then. For still being greedy now and clinging to every little scrap of affection or glance I can get from you, positive, negative, or otherwise. And I'm so, so sorry. Everything is wrong and unsafe and it's all my fault and I keep making things your problem but please, please don't think I am judging you or ridiculing you. It's not where this comes from. It's far more than that."
He stood there shaking, pale, and voice cracking as his throat closes with held back tears. Theodore looked on the verge of collapsing or breaking if so much as a gentle breeze blew through the room. Fletcher could crush him like a bug with a single word and he would accept it as it sent him to his proverbial death. He had brought this all shattering down upon his shoulders and he knew it was a mistake. The timing was all wrong. But the impulse was there and he'd let the panic control him and now it had all come spilling out and there was no retracting that.
Theodore Ransom Archer had just signed his own death warrant and left it at Fletcher's feet.
It started off as a look of utter perplexity. Had he heard right? Or rather — had he heard wrong before? Had he spent all this time torturing himself over a wall that had never really existed? And yet as he listened on, and as Theo gave explanation after explanation as to why he thought Fletch wasn't interested, it became crystal clear that he, too, had told himself a story that wasn't quite true. He blinked rapidly and tilted his head and held up a hand to speak, then retracted it. Then he held it up again and stroked his stubble. As his fingers passed over his mouth, he began to shake with what could have been sobs, only for him to drop his arm limp and shake his head and begin, finally, to laugh.
He glanced up at Theo with that crooked grin and one eyebrow cocked in exasperation. "Is that what you think?" he asked quietly. "Is this what you tell yourself? That this is something I don't want to deal with? Because I can't think of anywhere else but your vivid imagination that you'd have gotten this idea that I don't want to be here. That I'm somehow scared of a mess. What — you think I stuck around for the money? For a dog I don't visit anymore? If I didn't want to weather everything that comes along with you, I'd have left the second I saw it.
"Theo...I've seen messes. I come from a mess. I am a mess, if you couldn't tell. And Ven was even more of one, if you can bloody believe it. This? This doesn't scare me enough to run me off. Not by a long shot. Stop telling yourself that it will. Now."
Fletcher held his hand up again, fingers shaking, and motioned for Theo to let him continue. He scowled momentarily at the reminder of that deep hole he'd dug before focusing again on Theo. He grew serious. "I'm trying to shield you from the mountain of shit that I've yet to face, let alone dig through. I'm trying to keep it under wraps. I didn't think this was anything you wanted to see, or hear about, but...if those are the lies you tell yourself, then these are mine. And if you really, truly want this — "
Fletch held his trembling hand back in view, this time to make a point.
"I'm at rock bottom, Theo. There's no way you want me. You can't possibly want me, but...if I was wrong, and you don't care about all the ways I could fuck this up, or hurt you, or how badly this could end, then...then I can't take it anymore," he finished. "And I'll be greedy, too."
He felt like he was going to pass out with how the silence dragged, with how Fletcher started and stopped repeatedly. The laughter threw him through a loop and he felt his knees weaken further in preparation of the crushing blow. But what came was the grin he'd come to love so much. Theo nodded sadly along. Of course he thought Fletcher didn't want him. Hadn't the man made that clear? That he loved him but wouldn't have him like this?
A strangled sob broke from his throat before he could clap his hand over his mouth in a vice like grip over his own jaw. Tears soaked his hand as he lost his war with his own emotions.
"I want you," he garbled, dropping his hand away and choking on his own words. "Everything, Jack. Your best days, your worst days, whatever you will give me I am greedy for and more. I...I've already lost everything once. I'm terrified of what will happen to you. Or how much you'll resent me for all this. I don't know what will become of all this. I just know I can't...I can't live without it. I need you. And I know I'm a curse and I'll drag you down with me and it'll break us both but I've never desired to be such a selfish, greedy bastard more than now. I'm sorry and I'm not and...I want this. With all my being I want this. I don't make all the right choices or know how to keep up with you. I sting you when I don't mean to but, I want to be your shelter and strength as you are mine. I want to support you as much at your worst as your best. I want you to...want this too. And if that means all I get are scraps and am left waiting in the wings forever...so be it."
The way Theo broke was like a dam bursting, and it was clear now just how much he'd been holding back, and for how long. How he'd done it without resorting to vices was one thing, but...Fletch still didn't know what to do with crying. He didn't know what a grown man sobbing needed from him. Or maybe, in spite of what they'd just said to each other, he was scared to take the first step.
He gripped the chair again, this time as an anchor in reality, and as a barrier between them, too. As Theo spoke, his fingers dug into it, deeper and deeper, before finally slipping and balling into fists. When the man finished and stood miserable and teary-eyed before him, there was a pregnant pause in which Fletch wrestled with himself over what to do. His eye slid around the room, landing on every point of entry as though Theo's sobs invited a security risk. Then he pushed from the chair and straightened. "Give me a minute," he murmured.
He moved between their two rooms, locking doors, drawing shades, making sure that there was no possible way to be seen or interrupted. When he'd finished, he hesitated again by the balcony, looking over at the man whom he so desperately wanted. And then he broke, too, and before he knew it he was striding towards Theo as though by a force beyond his control. He grew close. Too close. He reached up and wiped the man's cheek with one rough thumb, looking him over with a tenderness that he'd never allowed himself in all the time he'd known him. His fingers slid back through Theo's hair and he cradled Theo's head and opened his mouth like he had something to say. But he couldn't find the words. Not with how heavily his heart beat in his ears. So instead he did what he'd been denying himself for so very long: he pressed his lips to Theo's and pulled the man close and breathed him in like air to the drowning.
The stillness and tension in the room felt like a gut punch. He'd gone too far. He'd slit his own belly and Fletcher had been left with the horror of emotional viscera spread all over that he clearly did not want with how he balled his fists and looked everywhere about the room except at Theodore. And then his bodyguard was dashing out of the room and his own knees knocked harshly against each other. He felt like being sick and only his shallow breathing and leaden feet was keeping him from dashing into the bathroom and hurling.
Then, Fletcher was back and locking down his room. The hesitation at the balcony scared Theo but the man's approach rooted him in place. This was how he died. The first slap...never came.
Theo trembled and gasped softly as his tears were brushed aside and the man before him, the one he desired and loved above all else looked up at him with such devotion that it made his heart swell and his knees threatens to buckle. A coo escaped him as that hand slid into his hair and then lips were pillowed upon lips and they were kissing.
It was a wet kiss that tasted of saltwater and whiskey and smoke but lacked the immediate spark of all-consuming lust. He pressed in, chest to chest and returned the affection with tender desire of his own. His hands slipped under Fletcher's coat but hovered over the man's waist, too afraid to touch and break the moment but desiring all the scraps he would be afforded. And when air at last was needed for men still needed to draw breath and they had not died and achieved a holy afterlife, Theo nuzzled his forehead against the other man's and remained as close as he was allowed for as long as he was allowed. As far as he was concerned if this was all he ever got from Fletcher, if this was not the silent declaration of desire and love he thought it to be and instead was a final goodbye, it would be enough. It had to be enough.
He couldn't help but smile again when they parted, and that smile became another quiet laugh. When was the last time he'd felt like this, with this giddy electricity coursing up through his trembling fingers and raising all the hairs on him? Years. Decades, maybe, with how much one kiss had seemingly made him into a man half his age. His heart drummed against his ribs and then skipped and drummed again. He basked in the warmth of that touch: of Theo's breath mingling with his. Of Theo's hands grazing his sides. He wanted more, but more felt like a road he couldn't come back from, and he'd keep taking and taking, and pushing it was the last thing he'd do when the man was a sobbing mess.
Theo needed comfort. Fletch had no idea how to give him that. He drew back just enough to be read, looking the man over like he was questing for answers. A hint of his boyish grin remained. "What now?" he murmured.
The impish grin was a balm to his soul. Fletcher was beautiful on a bad day. But, grinning cocky like a schoolboy, it was enough to make Theodore melt. Hesitantly, his eyes never leaving Fletcher's, he slid his hands around his waist and gently tugged him back in for another warm and tender kiss. His hands slid up his back under his coat to hold him close and feel his warmth, his solidness, his strength. This was real. Fletcher was real.
"I don't know," he breathed against his lips before moving away enough for them both to have a proper conversation. "Wasn't expecting to get this far. Wasn't...trying to either—not...not regretting it though. If you're not..."
His heart was thrumming warmly in his chest and it was becoming difficult to focus on planning their future when he was too busy basking in the glow of revelation and adoration. He didn't want this moment to end. He didn't want them to fight or him to say the wrong thing. But they needed a plan.
"One step at a time I suppose. Simply put, same plan as before but the additional caveat of...you and I, we don't get caught doing more of this...if you want this, beyond right now that is. I want this though. Just so we're clear."
It was harder to stop the second time, and he found himself following Theo as the man pulled away from him. He was so gentle. So...sweet about everything. It was strange and it was unlike any way he'd ever been touched or treated. He knew Theo needed that kind of softness and care. He just hadn't expected anything like it in return. Either way, he grinned like an idiot at his continued disbelief in what had just happened.
"Yeah. Anything," he managed as he dried the rest of Theo's tears and cradled his cheek. "I'm not losing this. I'm not losing you. We can just...keep it here. With the doors locked. Or at night. I can switch my shift, and..." He paused to catch his breath like even just the thought had winded him. He laughed softly again. He was high on the moment, and he never wanted to come down. "If I know this is what I get to come back to every night, I'll do anything. Anything you want. Anything to keep this. Fuck, you're beautiful," he added before he could help himself.
He laughed softly back blinking in incredulity that this was actually happening. Theo didn't think he'd ever seen Fletcher this happy. The man was practically giddy and it made the nobleman want to dive right into it with him, to just be lost in that youthful bloom of love that he had never truly allowed himself to be lost in.
Theo smoothed his hands over Fletcher's chest, rubbing gentle circles as he kept him close. "One thing at a time," he grinned back unable to stop himself. "We can't be getting ahead of—you think I'm beautiful?" The thought registered late and the man blushed hot and dark up his neck to the tips of his ears. He could not even look at Fletcher as if seeing the man deny that was what he had read was too scary for him.
"You say anything I want, but what do you want? This isn't just me, it's...us. Right?"
"I've called you pretty how many times now, and it only just hit you?" he snorted softly. "You think I was staring at you at the ball for shits and giggles?" His smile waned a little, though, as Theo went on, and his gaze grew intense. He drew back to bring the man into full focus. "I've told you: I want you. And I want to see you out of this. And you're so convinced that I'll be miserable with you, and that it's not what I want, that you can't even hear it when I say it. I'm telling you the truth. I have been from the start."
"You mean when you've been mocking me?" He blushed further with a soft giggle looking a bit bashful and regretful. "I didn't see. I wish I had seen. I was too afraid to look at you and lose all resolve to...make a mess of things."
Theo reached up and cupped Fletcher's cheek, rubbing his thumb over some of the stubble. "I hear you. I'm listening. I believe you. But I want to care for you too. I want to be strong for you and a comfort as you are to me. I want to know your desires beyond just me. I...I am afraid of hurting you and losing you, yes. I'm terrified of it actually. But I'm afraid too of taking you for granted, of not being enough, of asking too much."
He hung his head some and his hand slid back down Fletcher's neck to his chest. "I don't like fighting with you. Not like we have been. I'm scared I'll do the wrong thing or say the wrong thing and that'll be the last time...I don't want to have you walking on eggshells with me and I don't want to be a pampered prince. But I don't know what things make you happy. What demands you have to be equal and feel desirable and supported."
Fletcher's face fell further, and now he seemed almost uneasy. His fingers slipped from the man's cheek and his arm hung limp by his side. He hadn't expected to be dug into like this. Picked apart and scrutinized. Theo's hand was an anchor against him, and he leaned into it hungrily, but something about the man's words made him afraid of where this was going. He turned away as he tried to stuff whatever that was back where it came from. He was fully serious when he looked back at Theo again. "You're not. You won't. I'm not going anywhere. I've got nothing to demand, just — can we not do this right now? The digging, I mean. Please. Can this just be simple for a minute?"
"That is demand enough for me this evening," he replied, tugging Fletcher in close again for a quick, soft kiss. "We can figure the rest in the morning in more serious terms. For now I only have two questions. When is the next changing of the guard so we can be prepared? And can I...hold you tonight? Even for a little bit?"
Theo pulled him in and sent him reeling again — enough so that he lost sight of what he'd been afraid of. Fletch leaned into the embrace and chased the man for a second kiss, wrapping him up in his arms and holding onto that moment for as long as he was allowed. Something about this felt different. He was so used to moving fast. And he'd thought that surely, after they'd both waited for so long, Theo would want more than what he was giving now. That was how these things usually went in his experience: it all came out at once. Maybe it was just the shock of the moment, still, that made the man hold so much back.
That was fine. It had been a week, and he could wait. He could be patient for a little while longer. Couldn't he?
Theo asked him something and he shook himself mentally and tried to focus. "Erm...it's me until dawn. I moved it around so you could meet Neal. And then it's Niles taking over from there, and he won't be fussed if I'm sleeping in my own room when we swap out. So as long as we're in our own beds when he comes in..."
He shrugged. Grinned again, giddy and nervous all at once. Was that all Theo wanted? Just to hold him? Nothing more?
"You have me for the night. Your room or mine?"
He giggled as Fletcher stole more kisses and kept him close. It felt forbidden and right all rolled into one. Theo found himself hard pressed to keep his eyes open to read conversation when he was so warm and bubbly inside he just wanted to burrow down into the feeling.
"My bed is bigger but your room is more private. Your choice," he replied somewhat distracted by the way he was flickering his eyes up and down Fletcher's chest and face. He could not wait for the opportunity to rub his hands over him, to feel warm flesh, textured tattoos, and scarred divots, to entangle himself in his beloved's embrace and feel the beat of his heart against his own.
"I trust you."
"Mm. Mine's probably safer," Fletch agreed. Admittedly, in what few forbidden thoughts he'd allowed himself, he'd fixated on everything he wanted to do to the man. He hadn't considered the specifics. He wasn't sure if Theo would be particularly comfortable in a small bed in a small room. Fletch smirked, though, at what he said next. "Trusting a pirate to be a gentleman in his own bunk. That wise?" he teased. Nevertheless, he reluctantly parted from the object of his desire and motioned towards the nanny door with his head. "Come on, then," he murmured, and slipped through it into his own room.
It was clean enough. He'd straightened things out of habit and made the bed. And Theo had been here before, obviously, but still, it felt...plain. And it was a strange feeling, bringing a noble from opulence back home to plain. Fletch sat down on the foot of the bed and got to work unlacing his boots with still-shaking hands. He frowned in annoyance at the knowledge that he might need a drink soon, if only to keep it from getting worse and concerning Theo. And he couldn't sneak it anymore, either. The man knew. He had to do the shameful thing in front of him.
But that was a problem for later, and he desperately wanted to stay in the now. Boots off, he stood again and shook his jacket over his shoulders, hanging it over a small chair in the corner as he always did. He pulled the eyepatch off, too, and rubbed the spot where it had pushed up against his cheek all day. Finally, he turned back to Theo, hesitant and uncertain behind his usual cocky grin. "Just...holding me?" he asked.
Theo grimaced slightly at the teasing but was quick to follow on Fletcher's heels. His gaze was in tension as he watched the other man and his shaking hands prepare for bed. It would have almost been flattering if not for the fact her Theo knew about the excessive alcohol even if he didn't yet realize just how excessive it all was.
He surged forward though the moment Fletcher faced him again, wrapping his arms around him loosely and smiling down at him. "For now," he spoke shyly, his blush returning. "With some you holding me and lots of kisses sprinkled in there too maybe?"
Theo reached up and cupped his cheek, his thumb hovering over the bottom of Fletcher's scar. "And I do not have a pirate fetish. I just think you're handsome and funny and an asshole," he giggled at the last. "And being near you makes me happy because it's you."
"For now?" Fletch repeated coyly. He had the distinct impression that he was being strung along. That Theo was one of those people who had little actual interest, and was content to blush and titter his way through every encounter and go no further. He thought he might go mad from it if that was the case. But he still wouldn't push it. It wasn't his call to make, no matter what he wanted or how badly. "Alright," he breathed. "Whatever you want, Pretty Boy." His grin cracked a little wider at everything that Theo had called him. "No arguments, there," he snorted softly before adopting a look of mock concern. "Guess I'll return what I got you for Yule, though, if you're really not into pirates. 'S too bad. I found some good ones."
Before Theo could protest what he'd said, he slipped a hand between them and moved forward, pushing the man slowly and gently towards the bed, step by step. Not once did he take his eye off him. "Now...we going to just stand here talking forever? Or are we doing this?"
He blushed and squawked and blushed some more but moved back into Fletcher's bed easily. Theo latched onto the other man's shirt and pulled him in close after. "For now, yes," he replied softly.
"I have spent far too many days and nights dreaming and longing of being entangled like this with you to not seize it at the first available opportunity."
Theo leaned in and stole another kiss from Fletcher, this one more confident and warm with traces of passion and hunger while still maintaining the gentle, softness that spelled everything Theodore. His lips slid away from his lover's then as he trailed kisses along his jaw. "Is it sensitive? Your scar?" He gently touched Fletcher's cheek beside it before sliding his hand to the back of his neck and giving a small squeeze.
They tumbled to the bed. Fletch took great care not to fall on the man. Not to block him in. To let him have the upperhand, and give him a clear path to escape. It was all out of habit, and he only half knew he was even doing it, and even that half evaporated the second Theo's lips grazed his jaw. "Fuck," he breathed. "I'm a gentleman. I'm a gentleman. I'm a fucking gentleman." He leaned away so Theo could read him and spoke with the sort of breathless laughter of a man hanging onto one last tenuous thread of self control for dear life. "No, it's...it's not. Was lucky the big guy didn't fuck up a nerve when he got me. Just don't shove a finger in and you're fine. Same goes for the other ones. Just...mind my sanity. I'm already losing it."
"Hmm?" He hummed softly as Fletcher explained and then dragged the man closer, his hands cupping his cheeks so he could lean up and kiss along the scar from the bottom and then up at his brow with the tenderest of touches. He then slid his hands down to his shoulders and gave them a comforting squeeze.
"If I'm being too much, too fast for you, please just say. I don't want to hurt you or spook you. I know I've wanted this for so long but it's all so sudden and fast for you right now and I understand that. I'm not looking to break you."
Fletch began to laugh harder. "Theo...no. That's...that's not what's — " He lost himself in the absurdity of the thought for a minute, chuckling and beaming at this sweet, ridiculous soul before him. "Love, I...haven't been to the Siren since the night of the ball. It's er...it's...been a while. And I've been wanting you bad. You've no idea how bad. It's been eating me up inside. And you clearly aren't in a place where this can go anywhere tonight, and...you're pushing my buttons. That's all it is. Just..."
He paused for breath and realized suddenly now tense he was from keeping it all together. Or was it that he hadn't had a drink in hours? Either way, he'd been holding back from touching Theo. From holding him like he'd asked to be held. "You need me to be good. So help me be good," he finished. "I'm trying, Theo, I really am."
Theo smiled softly back as he waited for Fletcher to explain everything. A pleased look he couldn't entirely hide flashed across his features to hear that Fletcher hadn't been a recent patron of the local brothel but he otherwise kept his thoughts and words to himself. The circumstances behind the why had little to do with Theo and he certainly understood why.
"Oh my heart," he breathed softly, his words filled with such warm adoration and affection. "I'm sorry for tormenting you. You always take such good care of me...would you...like care? I," he blushed looking incredibly bashful as he spoke, "am not ready for everything tonight, you're right on that. And I am not nearly as experienced or talented as your Sirens but this I'm—I'm willing to do this if you...would like it. Well, and can be quiet," Theo added with an impish smirk.
"It is quite alright if not though. Or if you'd prefer more space between us. I am content that we are here together."
Fletch caught the look, and...oh. Theo did care about that part. It hadn't registered with him before, and...he didn't want to think too hard just now on what that meant, both for his habits and for how he was about to manipulate Neal. But maybe he needed to get it out now. He drew a little further away, first in disbelief, then in undeniable hunger, then in a drawn-out quietness as his gaze wandered over the man's features. He took a breath and then hung on the words for a moment before they found their way out. "This...maybe...isn't the time to talk about it, but...I go there to scratch an itch. No strings. No feelings. And that's it. That's all it's ever been. But I want you. You've had me acting like some lovesick teen. I can't say I've ever wanted someone this badly in my life, really. And that's got nothing to do with experience, or talent, or whatever you want to call it. You've got to know there's no comparison."
Fletch swallowed and hesitated again, once more looking uncertain. "You say things and ask things that I don't think anyone's said or asked me. But..." He trailed off and leaned a little closer, until his lips were just barely in view. "I wouldn't say no. If...you're offering."
"...Thank you. I don't know, but I believe it when you say. What this is, what we hope it will be...it's all very new for me too. I'm sorry you were not better cared for in the past, because you deserve the world."
His breath came out in soft puffs against Fletcher's lips as he leaned up and brushed against them in a small kiss. "Let me take care of you, dearest. I did promise kisses after all," he said with an impish smirk.
So saying, Theo kissed him and nudged Fletcher into rolling over onto his back on the bed while Theo rolled up over him. "Because I can't hear you I want you to tap my shoulder twice if you want me to stop and need my attention. Otherwise," he kissed along his jaw and down to his throat, "you're free to touch and enjoy to your heart's content. I'll let you know if it's too much."
His kisses continued as he allowed his hands to wander over Fletcher's chest and shirt. Slowly he tugged the material up and made a soft sound as he finally got to see the man up close even if only in the moonlight from the room's windows. "One day you'll have to tell me about all of these. The how and why."
He wondered if this was really happening. Was he dreaming? He'd been through the motions so many times before that he'd lost count long ago. So why did this feel so raw and electric and new? Theo was so sweet. So gentle at every turn. And all it did was get his heart going faster, and it made him want to lose himself in this moment even more.
The man's invitation was all he'd needed to hear to break the spell of caution and reluctance, and he pulled his shirt off in one very practiced motion. "No," he breathed. "Get back here. I'm not done with you yet." He drew Theo back down against his chest and got to work on the nobleman's own tunic, clawing it up his back and over his head and tossing it carelessly to the floor. He wrapped the man up in his arms, hands grasping at warm, bare skin as he laid feverish kisses along his collarbone. When he reached Theo's pretty, freckled shoulder, he drew back just long enough to be read again. "Ink and scar stories later," he smirked. "This first."
He blushes and shivered at having his shirt removed. For a moment self-consciousness overtook him to be even that much bare but Fletcher's fervor and interest was confidence-building for the nobleman. The bodyguard truly did want Theo. It wasn't just pretty words but hungry kisses and warm touches. Each were returned tenfold. What Theo lacked in experience he made up for in enthusiasm.
When he could finally disentangle himself from his lover's arms to venture lower, he maintained the same tenderness and care he had from the moment they had first begun that desperate, hopeful kiss back in his bedroom. Fletcher was lavished in gentleness and attention as Theodore poured his heart into loving on the man. With every point of connection he hoped that his beloved felt and understood just how ardently he was loved.
And when it was over, he peppered kisses back up his chest to offer a slow, deep kiss before collapsing into his side. Fletcher's blanket was tugged up over them as he nuzzled in close. Theo craned his neck back some so he could read his lover even in his more tired state. He hesitated to say anything and ruin this intimate silence. Everything felt so perfect even as he still felt rather shy despite what he had done. But he pressed a kiss to Fletcher's shoulder.
"We'll have to practice more in the future so that I may improve methinks," he quipped. "But uh hopefully your sanity is a bit more restored and I am not quite the tart you once accused me of being," he teased with a relaxed grin.
Well after Theo had stopped and curled up next to him, Fletch lay panting and writhing and grinning up at the ceiling. His mouth worked but the words wouldn't come out — not that they were in any sort of coherent order in his addled state. The arm that wasn't occupied holding Theo against him anchored him to the bed by a shaking fistful of sheets as though he thought he'd fly away without a tether. Slowly, wide-eyed in disbelief, he released them, turned, and cast the man a prolonged look of wild adoration. He leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on his forehead, reveling in the scent of his hair. He chuckled breathlessly, still so convinced that this was a dream.
"There's no way you're real," he mumbled as he drew away, only half-registering that Theo couldn't read him. He blinked. Smiled a sleepy, vacant, and supremely pleased smile. "Sanity's restored. Think you took the rest of my mind with it, though. 'N...there's still time to be a tart if you run around with my eyepatch," he added with a quiet little laugh. "Theo, I...No. Never mind it. Just come here, you gorgeous thing." Fletch wasn't certain he knew what he was about to say, just that he'd meant to put words to a feeling. A powerful one at that. But he was useless at talk right now, and so he'd show the man what he meant. He rolled towards him, wrapping him up and pulling him closer in a warm, strong embrace.
Theo giggled softly back, blushing bright pink at such tenderness even as he burrowed in close and tight beneath Fletcher. He felt indescribably safe in the man's arms. It was a feeling he'd never truly had before and as exhausted and giddy and bashful as he felt, it also made him feel a bit weepy as everything overwhelmed him all at once.
He tangled his legs with Fletcher's and scratched lightly at his back. A deep, pleased sigh eased from his lungs as all the tension from the last several months perhaps even years just melted away.
"My head will not fit through doorways if you keep calling me such things...don't stop." He grinned against his shoulder and giggled softly. "I could fall asleep right here, right now just like this if we're not careful. Thank you."
A laugh purred through his chest at the thought. He squeezed tighter, burrowing into Theo's hair, eye now just a squinting slit. The man was right. He'd easily fall asleep like this too, wrapped up in warmth and ecstasy. But he didn't want to let go. He didn't want to say goodbye to whatever this was that just felt so unbelievably right. His gaze blurred and he grunted and blinked, taking a deep breath to try to stave off this enervation. When it came back into focus, he scowled.
"No. Fuck off," he mumbled at the bracelet that dangled tauntingly within his view, this time knowing full well that Theo couldn't read him. One fine silver strand glittered in the moonlight amongst all the black and brown, judging him. "Make up your mind, arsehole. Stay or leave. You can't have both." He shut his eye and buried his head and wrapped his arm closer around Theo to tuck the stupid thing out of sight, but the damage was done, and now he was left with silence and questions.
Twelve years. Twelve years and he'd never once felt like this. Never been held this way, or touched with this much care. He didn't know what it meant. He didn't know why, and that scared him. He shook his head slowly, nose rubbing up against Theo's pretty head, and blinked away that gut-wrenching confusion. Now wasn't the time. Who knew how rare these moments would be between him and the man he'd yearned for for so long? He had to stay here. Couldn't wander off down some dark path.
Couldn't let them fall asleep, either, though.
Slowly, he extracted himself from the tangle of limbs and moved far enough back to be read, propping himself up on an elbow. "I think I'm the one who's supposed to thank you, love," he murmured. "Got to be careful though. That about knocked me out. A credit to you, I suppose," he added with a cheeky smirk. His eye traveled lovingly over Theo's features, drinking the man in. He reached up and brushed an errant strand from Theo's eyes, tucking it behind his ear, all the while pointedly avoiding the sight of that bracelet. "Not trying to push it, promise, but...you sure you don't need anything? This what you want? I'm just not in the habit of leaving a man hanging."
He whined softly in protest at Fletcher's retreat but settled easily into the bed when he didn't move far. His hand rubbed his chest though, seeking connection in however which way he could find it. Fletcher was so warm and present and solid.
It had been fifteen years since he had last laid in someone's arms, last kissed, last desired to spend the rest of forever in that singular moment. Elijah and Fletcher could not have been more different though. Everything felt so much more intense with Fletcher too and Theo could not help but wonder again if it was the loneliness, maturity, or the man himself that made it feel like this. He felt desperate like a thirsting man in the desert with no water. It scared him and thrilled him and worried him that if Fletcher knew how deeply he felt, he'd leave or ridicule him. So he kept the intensity unspoken.
His hazel eyes though so full of fire and love burned for Fletcher though. Once more he blushed and gave a tiny bashful but proud smile at the praise. The smile only grew with the tenderness bestowed upon him. Theo even turned his head to kiss Fletcher's palm for a moment after he had finished.
"You're not pushing, it's alright. And believe me I am interested in you and such things of this nature generally speaking. It's just that..." a bloom of redness went down his neck and blossomed over his chest and shoulders and not just over his face and ears. Theo focused on Fletcher's chest rather than his face in his own nervous embarrassment. "I'm too nervous I'll get us caught or you'll hate it or any number of things. I am glad you enjoyed...what we did. Very glad."
Fletch chuckled. His fingers brushed along Theo's jaw and he tilted the man's chin up to steal another kiss. When he drew back again, his crooked smirk had broadened. "Scared I'll make you scream and you won't even know it," he teased, basking in how red the nobleman had gone. Then his expression softened again, and he leaned a little further away to give Theo some space. "Don't worry. I'll leave it be. But...offer's always there. All you've got to do is ask."
He shifted, propping himself up a little further to stave off sleep. His fingers trembled again and he balled them into a fist to make it stop. He blinked hard and swallowed the urge to drink away. Just a little longer. He could wait just a little longer. He'd find a distraction and he'd just keep holding it off. He cocked his head, looking Theo over. "Well, then. We've got until neither of us can stay awake. You want ink and scar stories now? I've seen you looking. I know you've got questions."
Theo followed as Fletcher tried to give him space and took the man's struggling hand to hold in his own. His thumb rubbed soothingly over the man's rougher knuckles and an unconscious soft, warm smile spread across his features. He'd always wanted to hold hands with someone like this, to experience this kind of domestic closeness and intimacy and now that he had it he found himself insatiable. Theo's hunger for this man was not quelled but instead inflamed.
"How can I not look when you're so unrelentingly attractive? It is a constant struggle to remember breathe in your presence. I have ruined so many hours of book reading in favor of drinking you in."
He brought his hand up to kiss his fingers gently. "Tell me. I want to know every inch of you and all there is to know until you are as familiar to me as my own self...I still can't believe this is real. I'm going to wake up and it's going to have all been a dream."
Theo's mention of the book sparked a memory: a day spent in the sun at the changing of the seasons, with him and Neish laughing and fighting and Theo watching as he pretended to read the same page. But that was so long ago. He'd only just arrived. Surely...
"Fuck," Fletcher chuckled. "You've been doing that for ages, too. The book thing. Have I really been that blind? Losing my touch." A dimple formed in his cheek as his smile turned a rare shade of bashful. He watched in quiet awe at the tenderness with which Theo held his hand and kissed his fingers. How did he do it? How was he so perfect? That twisted up feeling rose in him again at how very new this was to such an aged man, and such an experienced one as he. His face contorted in spite of his best efforts to shove it all away. "It doesn't feel real, no," he managed. "What you said. That you didn't think you'd ever get this far? I didn't either. And now that it's here, I don't know what to do with it."
Fletch pulled Theo's hand forward and returned the kisses with stubbly ones of his own. He brought the man's fingers to his face and placed them at the base of that long, ugly, jagged scar. "Top to bottom, then," he said, his quiet cockiness returning. "This was the handiwork of Ven's brother, if you'd believe it. Big guy. Grumpy. No sense of humor. Wasn't in his right mind and came at me with a fucking pole arm like a maniac. Ven patched it up as best he could, but, well...a man cuts your eyeball in half in the middle of nowhere, there's only so much you can do. You ever want to meet him, by the way, he's in Adela. The I'kanans adopted him — I'm sure you can guess why. He's sweet on a woman there. I think it's why he's stuck around with them."
He moved Theo's hand down to the split across his lip — a very old and faded one. "Here's where I fell and ate shit on a barrel when Rolls was trying to teach me fencing. Er — Roland. That's my brother. He's why I'm any good at, well...anything. This one you know, so I'll skip it," he continued, grazing past the fresh scar in his shoulder as the both of them skirted that painful memory. "Branded with a cattle iron by Alastair — other brother, thank fuck he's dead — for being a little shit. Here's where I got shot the first time. Don't recommend it. The dots on this arm are every week I was in prison for smuggling. Also don't recommend it. Mermaid with the tits — first tattoo, thought it was cheeky, turned out every sailor and his mum had the same bloody thing already."
He stopped with Theo's hand on his chest, his grin now fully returned as he flashed the man a mirthful glance. "It's a lot. I'll have you stuck doing this for hours. Keep going?"
His face flickered in various shades of curiosity and sympathy. Each scar was touched with the most gentle reverence even as a shadow fell over Theo's face at the newest scar.
"Branded?" He asked his voice sounding rough with more than just overuse. "How many siblings do you have exactly? Why dots? Did you do them or did they? Were the tattoos particularly painful to get?"
Theo rubbed his hand over Fletcher's chest and blushed. "Sorry, a million and one questions. Getting ahead of myself."
He leaned up and gave him another loving kiss. "You've had a lot on your mind. I will accept with great pride I have been able to keep myself so hidden, even if it was from the one I wanted to see me most. It was never supposed to be more than glances...my resolve is apparently very poor," he laughed.
"Branded, yeah. Like...with a hot iron. D'you do that here? And it's six including me, poor Mum. Alastair, Rolls, me, then Zoey, Izzie, and Lella. Alastair was...kind of my dad's lackey. Knew he was inheriting the Fletcher family business, I guess, and acted just as mean as Dad to prove himself — "
He paused. Cocked his head again, and one eyebrow. "Well. Now you know my surname," he added sheepishly. "Erm..." Fletch laughed a little at the absurdity of it. "Welcome to my bed. Nice to meet you. Name's...Devlin. Devlin Fletcher. Used to go by Dev, or Fletch. I...forgot what we were talking about," he admitted.
"Aye, I know it. It's for cattle...and slaves." He pursed his lips in displeasure before shifting and pressing a soft kiss to the hold scar. The darkness over his brow didn't linger long as Fletcher shared his name and made quite the joke of it.
"Dev...Fletch...Mmm, what do you want to be called? When it's just us two? Or something else entirely? I don't think I can manage tart for you," he teased with a crinkle of his nose. "Perhaps scallywag." He stuck his tongue out and giggled before drawing him into another kiss and sitting up to situate himself with his back against the wall and the blanket in his lap. A beckoning finger crooked at Fletcher to invite him closer before patting his lap if he so desired to lay there.
"Sorry, just trying not to fall asleep yet. Still want you close if you do."
"Dunno," Fletch shrugged, still watching Theo like a basking cat. "Anything you like, I s'pose. Everything sounds good coming from your pretty mouth. Curse at me, call me names, call me anything. Except...maybe not Mister Fletcher." He shivered as the man parted from him, but it had little to do with winter's chill. Then it came again, this time right up his spine and down his arms. The whole of him felt like a lead weight. And he'd grown thirsty. So thirsty. He sighed, brow furrowing in disgust as he averted his eye. "Love...give me a minute," he murmured as he sat up and began to shift out of bed. "It's getting bad."
He stood, hiking his still unbuttoned trousers up with one hand, not bothering to dress again in his urgency to reach the balm that would soothe the shakes. He crossed the room and dug through his coat until he found his flask. With his back turned on Theo, he leaned against the wall and drank just enough, then corked it and let the stuff work its magic. The cool wood soothed his glistening brow as he waited, trembling and frightened of what he'd done to himself. Of how far he'd let this go. Of how very like Ven he'd become after promising to himself that he'd never do this.
And now...now he would just end up doing the same thing to Theo. Unless it stopped.
"Shit," Fletch muttered.
He stowed the flask and turned back to the man he'd fallen so very hard for — the man he'd give the world for. Even in the dim light, it was clear as day how his guilt weighed on him. He returned to his bed, opting to sit at the head of it with enough space between them for Theo to read him clearly, though he found now that he couldn't meet the man's gaze anymore. Where did he even start? How did he even say it?
"Theo...I've never gone as far as I am now. I don't think I know how to stop anymore. And...with what's coming up...I don't think I want to, either. I can't face him without it. And...and I've been in your shoes. And you deserve better than to watch this happen."
Theo watched it all in knowing silence. There was no judgement in his gaze and the moment Fletcher was settled again, he scooted closer so that their knees just barely brushed together. He took the other man's hands in his own and tilted his head enough to try and catch Fletcher's gaze.
"My heart," he started with a gentle laugh, "if I could not see how much you care for me, I might think you just got what you wanted of me before trying to push me away already. You have as bad timing as I do."
He gave his hands a tight squeeze. "But, in all fairness I am not you. And you are not him. And this," he motioned towards where the flask was stowed with his chin, "this is not good. That's true. But, you also won't be facing him alone. I'm here and I will be here. I promised you that before all this. I maintain and reaffirm that promise now. We'll get through this and we'll see where it goes from there. Just stay with me here in this moment. If you can be patient with my drama and hellfire I can be patient with your grief and mourning. And when spring comes and we are lighter some of our burdens we can sit together and discuss where things should go. All I ask of you is your honesty and your willingness to try. Everything else we can figure out together. Just as we have been doing, yes?"
It was the first time he'd really heard it. Theo had said all of it before, and Fletcher, who of the two of them had been the one to drive home that the other man never listened, had truly done the same back to him all along. But listening now, it finally sunk in. Theo wasn't a weak thing to be protected. Theo didn't expect the world of him while repaying him with table scraps. Theo was here. Present. An equal. Someone just as strong. And for the first time in his life, Fletcher wasn't alone.
His lips parted, but what did he even say? He shook his head slowly, not even knowing why he did it, and as he did his mouth began to quiver. And then suddenly he couldn't contain it anymore, and with one hand clapped to his mouth in the shame of it all, he began to weep.
He opened his legs and arms to make space for the other man. Fletcher was dragged and folded into the comfort and safety of Theo's arms. He held the back of the other man's head and rubbed his back while tears ran scaldingly down his neck and shoulder.
"Let it out, beloved. It's alright, I've got you. You're safe here. I've got you. You've been so strong for so long all alone. You can lean on me now. I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here."
Theo's embrace drew the poison with an intensity that he wasn't ready for. He was a weepy, snotty mess in the man's arms, face burrowed into his leg as so much grief released all at once. And still, he felt the shame of it. He was the child he'd told Theo not to be. Or...maybe just the one his dad had beat out of him. He certainly gripped the blanket like one, and sobbed like one, and desired comfort like one. After it had all come out, he lay there quietly, forehead pressed hard into Theo's thigh like that touch would never be enough.
Never. Never had this happened. Never had a lover held him like this. And all it came out as at the other end of this release was...anger. More disdain to pile on top of what he already had begun to throw at Ven's memory. He sat up slowly. Wiped his face with his hands, then the sheets. Without saying a word, he slid his arms around Theo and pulled him back down to the bed and held him tight once more. He tucked his face in between the man's jaw and shoulder, stubble prickling as he nuzzled in. "Thank you," he mumbled to an ear that couldn't hear him.
Theo let every drop to be wrung out of Fletcher as he continued to murmur words of comfort and soothed him with gentle hands. At one point he took to scratching lightly at the other man's scalp and combing his fingers through his hair as he once had remembered his own mother doing to him as a boy. Elijah too had done it for him a few times and he had always secretly loved it.
When Fletcher pulled him down, Theo went without protest and returned to embracing his lover. The vibrations against his skin were familiar even if he could not decipher them. But, he froze, his arms tightening and stiffening around Fletcher because perhaps it was just his imagination but for the briefest moment he was sure he had heard Fletcher speaking. His brain could not comprehend the words but the sound had been there and his heart began to hammer with concern that he was losing his mind. Or maybe he just imagined it in his desperation to feel close and connected to Fletcher.
Either way the replying response came out of his mouth before the realization had even fully registered. "You're welcome, my heart."
It took him a second to realize what he'd just heard, but when he did, his entire body spasmed from the shock. Then, slowly, he extricated himself from the embrace, bringing Theo into focus. "Wait," he grunted, and drew back a little further to look the man over, holding him firmly by the shoulder. The realization of what had happened wholly displaced any residual sting of grief. "I'm sorry. Did you just hear me?"
Theo was equally frozen in a bit of shock and stared back at Fletcher quite stiffly as if afraid to move or breathe too harshly. "I. Don't. Know," he replied in an equally anxious and almost clipped tone, his eyes wide in uncertainty.
"Like I felt you talk and I recognize kind of the feeling but...I don't know if I imagined it. But, I think I—this is so stupid—It's not possible—I probably just imagined it, but I thought I heard your voice. Not the words. But,—" he cut himself off abruptly and shook his head again. "Forget it. I'm sorry. You were comfortable too. I didn't mean to bother you."
Fletcher's eye darted between Theo's, expression growing more and more intense as the man went on. And then Theo went small and started running from the idea, and Fletcher's grip tightened on his shoulder as if to keep him from backing away from hope. "I don't care. This is more important. Come here, we're trying it again." He didn't bother to wait for Theo's answer before wrapping his arms around the man and snugging back up close. He buried his face like he'd done before, planting an affirming kiss on his neck before speaking again. "How about this? Can you hear this?"
He placed his hand on Fletcher's arm as if to push him away but shivered at the gentle kiss. Theo said nothing even after the buzzing of Fletcher's words upon his skin had ceased. But the tension in his body did not fade, only grew stronger and a sharp, short gasp escaped him.
Theo could hear.
He could not make out the words or understand what they meant but a bit less faintly than before he was able to hear what he could only assume was his beloved's voice. It was strange and nothing like he remembered sound being like but also familiar and warm. He remembered how he had once told Fletcher that he could hear tuning forks when placed against his ear in the same spot and wondered how he had never tried this before.
Still though he said nothing, too afraid to admit it and break it. Too afraid to hold hope for something he had accepted and let go so long ago. And too afraid that it would be another reason for Fletcher to consider him unworthy or too much hassle.
"You did, didn't you?" Fletch murmured, more to himself than to Theo. The man's body was positively rigid, and if this were any other time he'd have backed off and given him room to breathe, but the way Theo had tried to run from it made him want to give him this all the more. He pressed his face and neck tighter in and racked his mind for something, anything to talk about.
"The dots," he said as loudly as he'd dare at this time of night. "You asked about the dots. It was charcoal and a stolen ink pot from the guards, and a sewing needle on a stick. And I did them because I was bored. There's nothing to do in prison but piss, wank, and sleep. And they're dots because I can't draw a straight line worth a damn, so tallies were out. There."
Fletch pulled away again to get a good look at Theo, searching for a reaction. "More? Want me to stop?"
He could hear it. He could hear all of it! None of it made sense but for the first time in twenty-five years, Theodore Archer was hearing another human being's voice, and not just any voice but that of the man he professed to love mind, body, and soul.
When Fletcher pulled away at last it was to see Theo with eyes wide in overwhelmed intensity. His breath raced in and out of his lungs so quickly he bordered on being unable to breathe entirely. He did not even answer the other man just continued to stare like a haunting statue.
Then suddenly the hand on Fletcher's shoulder let go and sunk instead into his hair. Theo grabbed a hefty fistful and yanked the man in again as he surged forward to kiss him passionately. Where all Theo's previous kisses had been slow, warm, tender, and loving, this one was full of grappling fire and need.
"You absolute bastard man," he declared fondly against his lips as he tried to catch his breath. Theo felt dizzy and lightheaded and yet still continued to kiss him deeply until his vision blurred with dark spots. Only then did he pant and rest his forehead against the other man.
"Theo? Hey. Stay with me, love. Where've you gone? What's — mmf — "
Theo interrupted him mid-sentence, pulling Fletcher in with the kind of torrid fervency that he himself had held back from earlier. It was the last thing he'd expected. He'd thought there'd be crying and holding. Joy, maybe, and relief. But with the weight of grief still lingering and his tears still staining his cheeks and the taste of sour whiskey fresh on his tongue, he wasn't entirely ready for the degree of Theo's passion. He returned the man's kisses with careful ones, allowing him this moment but too concerned and preoccupied to take it any further.
This felt like the market, he realized. This was Theo on a high. He wasn't sure how to feel about that when it struck so many dangerous chords from the past, even if it came from a place of so much elation. When the nobleman was done, Fletcher held him close and allowed him to rest there against his brow. He did begin to chuckle, though, as what he'd been called caught up with him.
"Bastard man?"
Theo flushed and giggled back. "It seemed right in the moment. You went and did what you wanted so so did I." He rubbed noses with the other man, much sweeter and calmer now that he had his breath back and the initial wave of realization had passed.
"I'm sorry for startling you though. I—you—what did you say actually? I...," he misted up slightly and sucked his lips in as he tried to recenter himself before continuing. "I can't understand anymore." Then in a barely audible whisper he added, "I heard your voice."
"'S good. Now you know for a fact that I'm not some awful squeaky git. Just a bastard man." Fletch beamed at Theo, content to let him work through the revelation now that it involved a little less physical intensity. "Just told you about the prison dots, that was all. Since you asked. And it was all I could think of, n'..."
An idea struck him. It was stupid of him to ask. Theo would know it already for himself, probably, and he didn't want to get the man's hopes up and then dash them, but... "Wonder if you can hear singing. Or humming. Music, you know. Since it's...since it's where you go sometimes to work things out."
"Oh the most squeaky actually. Just like how I recall mice were, all high-pitched, quiet, and cute," he teased. The more Fletcher spoke though of hopefulness, the more unsure Theo looked. His lips narrowed into a small pursed mouth and the tears that had misted at the corners of his eyes actually fell.
"I don't know," he spoke choked up with them. "I never knew to try. I feel so stupid for never having done this before. You beautiful, brilliant man," he murmured combing his fingers through Fletcher's hair again. "How do you always find all the ways burrow into my soul like this? I don't think I've cried so much in all my life," he laughed softly trying to scrub at his cheeks.
He saw a man pushed to his limits like was so often done to him, and he stopped. There was no sense in throwing it all at Theo at once. They had time, and when he was ready, they could explore what this meant. But he wasn't out to make him the same raw, beaten, sobbing wretch that he'd just been. Not over something this miraculous. "Could say the same to you," he replied, reaching to wipe Theo's tears away yet again. "Tonight's made us both a mess, hasn't it?"
His hand fell back to the bed. Eye half-closed, his catlike grin returned at the scratch of delicate fingers through his hair. "Love," he mumbled. "You're going to send me to sleep again, spoiling me with this. You...you've got to help me stay awake, not the opposite."
"Then sleep, my heart," he replied continuing to pet him as the tension of Fletcher backing off eased. "Let me be the one to watch over you for once. I'll get back to bed before it's too late and we'll have tomorrow and the next day and all the days after. You cannot break yourself to steal more hours in the day just because you managed to acquire yourself a—what would we call ourselves?"
"'S dangerous. You sure?" he purred, but already he struggled to keep his eye open. Whether or not Theo could do it, he was right on one thing: Fletch couldn't stay up any longer if he tried. "No. You're...you're right. Mm. Theo. Don't forget. Unlock your door. N' clean up before bed'r you'll smell like me tomorrow. N'...call it whatever you like. M' yours."
As he sunk further and further into his pillow, one last thought ran through his mind. The cabin. A quiet winter morning. Waking up to the end of everything. He shut his eye tighter. "Just...don't like the thought of waking up alone. But...maybe it's different this time."
"It is but so is everything we have done and everything we have agreed to do. They are risks I'm willing to take for our happiness. But, if you're that worried I can leave now?"
Theo smiled at him softly. Who would have thought he would ever have the scowling smuggler turned bodyguard curled up in his arms like a cat? He loved this man so much. It still didn't feel real that they were to be lovers, that he was wanted as much as he wanted the other man back.
"Mine," he agreed giving the other man a warm squeeze. "And completely yours."
He made a soft sound of sympathy and leaned in to kiss his brow. "I will be just next door when you wake. And you can come in as soon as you're awake to check as many times as you need to. I'm not going anywhere. Another promise to you."
"No," he mumbled. "Don't leave now. Just...just a few more minutes. Waited too long to get here...you gorgeous, gorgeous thing."
And then he was out, sinking into a warm, soft place that smelled of Theo. It was quiet there. It was peaceful. There were no dreams that night, just that fuzzy feeling of being wrapped up in the presence of the man he'd wanted for so long. Even when he awoke to a cold bed and an empty place beside him, he did so with the remnants of a smile, and that smile broadened into a satisfied smirk as he recalled all that had happened.
He reached out and touched the spot where Theo had lain, fingers gliding across the sheets as though he caressed the man's skin. He wondered what it would be like, now, to spend his daylight hours pretending that they weren't meeting in secret in the dark. Somehow, he thought it might actually be easier than pining away unrequited. As he'd told Theo: if he knew he could come back to this feeling every night, he might just be able to accomplish anything.
"Up. Up. I'm up," he mumbled to himself, breathing deep and rolling over and planting his bare feet on the cold floor. He stood, aching and trembling, his first order of business a shameful one. After the whiskey, he pulled on his shirt from the day before, shoved his feet in his boots, and collected his things for a smoke and a wash up. He paused by the door, eyeing the one between his room and Theo's, sorely tempted to do what he knew he shouldn't at this hour.
And then he saw it: a note. A short note. Theo's perfect, careful handwriting. Words rang hollow in his tired mind: I'm sorry. Take care of the dog. "No. No no no. No no no — "
Without reading it, he unlatched the nanny door and burst into silence and the pale light of a dreary winter morning. He was halfway to Theo's bed before the man shifted and muttered in his sleep. Alive. He was alive. He was fine. The breath that had caught in Fletcher's chest left him. He took another as though breathing in the sight of the nobleman would steady him again. He lingered — longer than he should have, but he did it anyway, indulging in the knowledge that Theo was safe and warm and content. At last, he nodded to himself and stepped back into his own room, closing the door firmly. He picked up the note, eye tracing every loop and line and dot.
"Morning!
Reminder we have Edwina coming today and you have training Neal. Please see that he is on his best behavior."
Theo had left a thumbprint at the bottom as a signature. Fletch smirked at it. The man had been careful not to give a single thing away in what he'd written, but that thumbprint couldn't have read more like a heart if he'd tried. But...he was right. Today was tactical. Today was the start of an operation. He had to wrest his mind away from where they'd been last night, and Theo did, too. "Okay, Pretty Boy," he said to the paper. "Message received. Let's do this."
An hour later, with Niles swapped in to guard Theo, Fletch had bathed and changed and downed his coffee and his pasty with a startling new exuberance for life. As he strode down the hall to meet Neal, he caught sight of his reflection in an oversized mirror. The man who'd glanced back at him in passing was one he'd not truly seen in years: confident, sharp-eyed, and cocky as hell. A rogue, some might call him. A heartbreaker and a rake. But what he saw in it was something else entirely:
Heart and soul, he was Theo's bastard man.
Theo stayed long enough for him to fall into a deep sleep before finally kissing his brow and slipping out of bed. All his own personals were collected and double checked that no article of clothing was abandoned and forgotten before he finally slipped out and closed the door. Per Fletcher's instructions he bathed and buried his clothes in the hamper. A quick note was written with utmost care and slipped under the man's door. It was as close to a love note as Theo could safely get and he wished he could do more.
But, with his bedroom door quietly unlocked and the moon well high in the sky he too finally crawled into bed with an exhausted yawn. The bed felt so large and cold now that he was alone. It felt like a vast ocean in comparison to being cuddled up so close in Fletcher's arms. He wanted nothing more than to think on all that had happened that evening but the moment his head hit the pillow, he was a goner.
He did not even wake when Fletcher came barreling into his room, a thought that had he known, would have terrified him. But when he did wake it was to the weak sun upon his face and an empty bed. Theo lingered there until the maids came in to make his bed and were startled to find him still in it. He had to take the time to reassure them that all was well and just a lazy morning for him.
But their expressions were those of knowing fondness and they kept their thoughts to themselves that the Young Master was taking some time for himself for once. Once they finally left, he dragged himself from bed and looked over his clothes for the day.
Normally it would matter little to him but he recalled how Fletcher had mentioned he liked how he looked all dressed up fancy for the ball and wanted to be more intentional with his choices. With Edwina coming, he had the perfect excuse to impress as it were. Pity for her that it wasn't her he was trying to woo however.
Theo settled on a red robe set with gold embroidery embellishments and a black silky sash. He preened in the mirror some adjusting his hair this way and that before giving up with a disappointed sigh. Fletcher knew what he looked like. What was the point of trying to be something he wasn't? His misbehaving bangs were just going to fall forward anyway.
And while he did forego the paints and powders he had been strong-armed into wearing for the ball he did dab a bit of cologne oil just below his ears and on his wrists. He smiled back at his reflection, recalling the kisses his beloved had placed there as well as their own secret little discovery. He wondered how long they could both be kept at bay before his face was buried there once more.
Theo exited his room and nodded in greeting to the pair waiting for him there. "Mr. Daw, Mr. Truckett. Good morning. As I am running a bit late this morning, Lady Obower will be meeting us in the piano room this morning. Mr. Truckett if you could see that the kitchen is made aware of this and had some trays made up, I would be most grateful. It's quite alright for you to wait for them to be ready. There's no need for you to have to run back and forth so early in the day," he smiled gently to the other man.
He felt invincible. All the little things that yesterday had dug beneath his armor and latched on like a tick, well...today, they glanced off like it was nothing. Neal didn't bother him one bit. He'd do what he had to, and it wouldn't be his proudest moment, but the man had no power over him whatsoever. Fletcher was in control, and he'd manipulate the pieces to fall where he needed them, and the whore wouldn't see it coming if he so much as toed the line. The thought of Edwina just about made his jaw hurt from how hard his smirk dug into his cheek. Let her have her dalliances and her games. He'd found the real thing in her own fiancé, the stupid girl. Hell, even the Baron's presence couldn't affect his mood. In fact, it made him feel powerful. This was double-edged payback: from Theo to his father, and from Fletcher to his own. His only regret was that he couldn't throw it all in the man's face and watch him die inside in the knowledge that he'd hired a second deviant to corrupt his man-loving son.
Fletch did, however, contain it as soon as he greeted Neal. Well, most of it. It was hard to put a lid on the confidence and swagger, and his change in posture certainly earned him a double take from the man. But he stayed strictly business as he led him up the stairs to Theo's room. "Morning, sir," he said, keeping his expression carefully neutral. A smile of admiration flickered across his dark features, though, as the nobleman got rid of Neal with a quickness. Clever, he thought as he fell into step alongside Theo and they made their way to the piano room.
"Trust you slept well, sir?" he asked, taking advantage of their brief moment alone to allow himself a single mischievous glance at his love. His eye lingered, though, as he realized that Theo had dressed up a bit more than usual. "Impressing someone today, are we?"
He made sure to brush the back of his hand against Fletcher's as the man fell into step with him. A brow did raise to be addressed as sir and for a brief moment he felt a little panicked that the night before had all been a mistake or a dream. But then the twinkle in his eye and the pull of his mouth was answer enough. Fletcher was playing with him.
Theo rolled his eyes some with a small smile. "I had a lazy morning in bed and now will be missing breakfast entirely. Too many dreams on my mind it seems."
They entered the piano room and finding it empty, Theo stared intensely at Fletcher. "My fiance is coming," he replied with a small smirk. "Of course I want to impress my beloved. Wouldn't you?"
"Mm. Yeah. Well. That's what happens when you stay up late filling your head with pirate bollocks. Sounds like a real page turner, that one." Self-satisfied with his own cleverness, Fletch wandered lazily to his usual chaise in the corner and flopped down to lounge against the armrest. He checked the open door before taking one selfish moment to drink in the sight of the man. "I'm sure she'll like what she sees, sir," he replied with a twitch of an eyebrow. "How long is she sticking around today?"
Theo hissed softly and turned as red as his outfit. "The whole house need not know what I get up to by candlelight," he whispered. "You leave my innocent books out of this lest you find yourself with all night shifts. I'm sure Tiff would adore more evenings at home with his loving wife and family."
He took his usual seat at the piano but sat with his back to it. "As long as she desires. This is to be her future home after all. Will that be a problem?"
Fletcher wheezed out a cocky little chuckle. He'd sorely missed their banter. Now that they both knew what the other wanted, it seemed to have taken on a pointed air, like little arrows fired while no one else was the wiser, and each one that struck was an affirmation of what they now were. He brushed off Theo's empty threat. "Well, I'm sure my regular tart will miss me," he sighed, making a show of picking at his nails, "but it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make for poor Tiff and his poor family."
He crossed one leg over the other, eye flicking to the door and back again. He wondered if it would be easier to act distant with others in the room. "N' it's never a problem, sir. Matter of fact, I hope we see more of her. Really help her get acquainted with the staff. She ought to feel comfortable, you know."
His eyes widened some and his cheeks flushed. Theo had to look away first and lost this round. Fletcher had called him a tart right in broad daylight where anyone could hear. Anyone that is who knew it was Theo being referenced.
"How pragmatic of you, Mr. Daw. It's good to see you settling in here. See that you don't get too comfortable so that security lapses."
"You're the absolute worst...bastard man."
"'Course not, Master Archer, sir. Perish the thought."
"Yeah, but you like it," he signed with a smug tilt of the head. The look quickly went sheepish as he continued. "Red looks good on you. So does pink. Can't blame a man, can you?"
Footsteps echoed down the hall and he straightened up faster than a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, crossing his legs a little tighter as he did. "Someone's coming," he warned before throwing one arm over the back of the chaise, looking pointedly away from Theo, and feigning another nail inspection. When he glanced ever-so-casually up at the door, he was somewhat relieved to see that it was just Neal.
"Food's already done?" Fletch grunted. "Must be a record."
"Oh, no. I just prefer it up here," Neal replied with that same catlike air. He made a show of taking a turn about the room, hands behind his back as he inspected every curio. Fletch wondered if he was casing the joint, the way he considered things that seemed at surface level to be more valuable. Yet another issue to keep an eye on with the man, he decided. At last, Neal sauntered back around and lowered himself gracefully into a chair near Fletcher's corner. "I suppose we wait," he said, and settled in to watch the door.
"Suppose we do," Fletch replied.
He blushed deeper at the praise, his features softening some. "Thank you. A shame then I don't look better out of it," he added quickly with a little smirk, knowing Fletcher didn't have time to reply back.
Theo smiled at Neal's entrance as if welcoming an old friend. "You find my days are indeed very much filled with a great deal of hustle and wait. My bride-to-be is the far more social one. I have no idea how she manages it, she is truly a marvel. Did you sleep well Mr. Truckett? Is your housing to your liking?"
Neal glanced uncertainly between Theo and Fletch, to which Fletcher simply raised an expectant eyebrow. The man acted and pretended every night of his life. Surely a little boring noble speak wasn't that confusing. Or maybe there was less blood to the man's brain sitting up as opposed to laying on his back.
"I did," Neal replied carefully. "It is. It's very quiet here," he added. "It's not at all what I'm accustomed to. I'm sure I'll adjust in time."
"If there's anything I can do to make your time here more pleasant you need only voice it and I'll see what I can do. Mr. Daw can attest to that given he is unused to our seasonably colder weather and requires more and more blankets at night."
Theo smiled fondly at the men and had opened his mouth to say more when in bounced his fiance. "Oh Theodore darling I'm so sorry I'm late—look at you!" Edwina exclaimed as the nobleman stood to greet her. They exchanged cheek kisses as she fawned excessively over his appearance.
"Oh and who might this be? Jack I know, but I don't think we've met sir?"
Fletcher shot Theo a scathing look. "Bollocks," he muttered, but that was the end of his protest. Instead he watched the two perform their strange, stiff dance of make-believe affection, careful to hold his disinterested expression steady. Already, though, that smugness rose in him again. He's mine, he thought as he indulged in a memory or two of the night prior. He thought of the ball, too, and how he'd been so rotten with envy at what he'd seen. And now... He's really mine.
He snapped back to the present as Edwina sighted the bait and now watched her with keen interest. Your moment to shine, Sparkles, Fletch thought. Sure enough, Neal rose to his feet, hands clasped behind his back, the picture of a gentleman. "Neal Truckett, Miss. I'm a bodyguard to Master Theodore. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Fletch begrudgingly admired the way he said it: with just enough of a note of warmth to hook the girl while passing it all off as professional. Theo could hear none of it, of course, but Fletch knew the sound of a flirt working his magic. Maybe he'd chosen well after all, in spite of the many risks.
"Just hired him on," he added gruffly, still playing his part and more than happy to throw a measure of his disregard for her into his tone. "You'll be seeing him around on shift, I expect, as we fit Mr. Truckett into the mix."
"Oh," she commented looking the man up and down before pouting slightly. "Does this mean I'll see less of you Jack? I always feel safest when you're on duty."
Theo adopted a fake smile to keep from rolling his eyes. "Mr. Daw will be doubling with Mr. Truckett until he learns the routines and comings and goings here. After the ball, the Baron wants to ensure our utmost safety, my dear. Trust you are in good hands.
"Now then, have you eaten? I had Mr. Truckett check on it for us but it seems to be taking a moment. Mr. Daw if you'd be so kind as to escort me to check on it?"
"Oh surely you can have Mr. Trucker escort you dearest? Uh it's just I have something to discuss with Mr. Daw."
"I'm afraid it's the Baron's orders that I be accompanied at all times," Theo said easily, determined to not break his promise and to keep Fletcher from being caught alone with her. "And Mr. Truckett is still not familiar with everything here. You don't mind do you?"
"...no of course not," she replied faking a tight smile that turned to a sneer the moment his back was turned on her.
He nodded to Fletcher to follow him as he made a hasty retreat from the room. Theo did not immediately head to the kitchen however and instead walked down the hall to where one of the house's washrooms were. He looked around to see if anyone was around and then suddenly yanked Fletcher into a closet.
The moment the door closed he embraced him warmly and closely. "Good morning, my heart," he whispered against the man's ear.
Fletch followed Theo, glad to be away from the both of them. It took him a moment to realize, though, that he was being led in the wrong direction. "Theo," he hissed, but the man couldn't see him and didn't notice. It was a complete surprise when he was pushed firmly into a closet, though he wouldn't argue with what came next. He returned the embrace without question, breathing the man in and laying kisses down his neck like they'd both planned it all along. When they drew apart, he grinned at his love, biting his lip. He looked the man over, eye sliding over every beautiful inch of him, wondering how much they could get away with and for how long. "Well that was dangerous," he chastised teasingly. "But I'm not about to complain."
"I know," he replied a bit pitifully, his brows knit in concern. "But I just really wanted a hug from my beloved. The kisses are a lovely bonus."
So saying he lead in to steal a gentle peck. "I'll be better going forward. I just am greedy. I warned you of this. You know this...all of this was for you, right? Never her. Never the game."
"No," Fletch smirked, breaths coming a little quicker now as his neck flushed hot. "Don't be better. Better's no fun. Be worse. Be greedier." He reached up and brushed Theo's hair back, caressing the man's cheek. Theo had said what he wanted. Fletch wouldn't push it, but... "I know now. I like it. And I meant what I said. Drives me wild when you blush. You're going to be the death of me. Like I'm starving and staring at a cake in a shop window."
He smacked Fletcher's chest lightly. "No, none of that. We are going to be good so that this can be a thing that continues instead of ending right here."
Still he leaned into Fletcher's touch like a man equally thirsty and needy. A deep blush flushed his cheeks once more as if the mere mention of it brought it right back to say hello.
"It's your cocky little smirk that does the same for me. I see it and I want—" Theo cut off abruptly, blushing deeper and looking quite bashful. "Nevermind. Are you going to be alright today?"
Fletch deflated a little and drew back. "No...you're right. You're right. I've got to hold it together. I'll be good. You do make it hard to be, though. Especially when you keep doing that. And when you're dressing for me."
He bit his lip again, then shook himself mentally. There was no sense in letting himself get worked up when they had a full day ahead of them. "N' I'll be fine. I'm bloody unstoppable today, love. Don't you worry about me. Now. You're about the color of your robe, so I'm going to leave first and let you get a handle on it. We can come back to this tonight. Yeah?"
Theo would be lying if he didn't admit that Fletcher being a gentleman and retreating didn't sting him a bit. He felt like he had done something wrong and was being cruel to the man. Like he really was a tart and just kept leading him on and shutting him down. He didn't mean or want to be a tease, at least not right now and like this.
"I'm sorry," he murmured while misbehaving further and drawing him into a tight hug. "Not trying to be a tease. Go. I'll...settle down. Anyone asks I'm looking for...," he paused and looked at the shelving, "...a candle?"
Fletch accepted the embrace readily, grasping fistfuls of Theo's robe and nuzzling in even as his instinct nagged at him to leave and stop risking what they had. As they drew apart, he seized on the opportunity and planted a soft parting kiss on his lips. "No. Keep doing it," he smirked. "Do it more. I've never felt so alive as today."
He pulled away again, chuckling to himself. "I think I'm off to dunk my head in cold water, now," he laughed. "See you in the kitchen? Good luck finding your candle." With that, he flashed one last adoring glance and slipped back out into the hall and into the washroom. The icy water did help bring him back to earth, but his thoughts of Theo lingered. He dried himself off and made his way into the kitchen, half a smirk still pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Hey, Neish. Need help with the trays?"
His eyes watered slightly but he beamed brightly at the other man. He thought he had already fallen for Fletcher but with every word and every touch he fell all the harder for him with no safety net to catch him. It was dangerous. It was beautiful. And he was greedy for more.
He took the time needed to settle, to straighten clothes and hair, to soothe the flush of his cheeks and return to mild-mannered retired deviant Theodore Archer instead of passionate and starving for affection Theo the Tart.
Aneisha was piling up trays in Fletcher's arms by the time he was finally able to meet in the kitchen. "Kenna," he laughed, "how many do you expect to feed? There's only two of us for tea this morning."
"Her Ladyship demanded you were fed for having missed breakfast, sir. Caused a right mess of things it did. Not to worry Mr. Theo, we'll have it all sorted for you shortly."
"I'm so sorry, Kenna," he murmured looking entirely out of place in his pretty clothes and utterly guilty. Theo was quickly waved off though as the women continued their hustle and bustle around him. He peeked over at Fletcher and just the sight was comfort enough to make the smallest of smiles return to his face. He wasn't alone in this anymore.
"'S fine. I'm sure Neal and I can put away whatever you and her don't," Fletch assured him, midway through purloining a deviled egg as if to prove his point. Kenna flipped a dish towel at him, not daring to actually hit him with it lest he drop everything. With a cheeky grin, he shifted the trays back onto both arms and nodded to Theo, doing his best to pretend that he hadn't just been tangled up with him in that brief stolen moment. "Pack mule's ready, sir. Don't want to keep your dearest waiting. Shall we?"
"I don't know. I kind of like the idea of making my dearest wait. Something about suffering making the heart grow fonder? Oh or was that absence?"
He grinned impishly with a knowing smirk as he passed Fletcher and lead him out of the kitchen. "Do try to not scarf it all down though. I happen to like the eggs."
Fletch scowled, realizing in that moment just what kind of torture he'd given Theo free reign to enact. He did want more of it, it was true. He'd meant that. He thought he'd never be able to get enough of Theo's attention, of Theo's cleverness, of Theo's teasing. But holy hell, it would test his resolve. "Yeah, I know it," he muttered beneath his breath. "I seen you like eggs."
He followed the nobleman back to the piano room, moving rather slowly with so much to balance. By the time he'd caught up and set the trays down, he had a newfound respect for what Aneisha could do. "Neish makes it look easy," he complained as he stepped away and flopped back down on the chaise. Along the way, he nabbed the same old sailing book that he'd been very much not reading. He still didn't intend to read it, but at least it gave him a reason to look as preoccupied as he now did.
"Aneisha has been doing it for years. Perhaps your guards should train in it," he teased lightly before turning to a blushing Edwina. "Your food my lady." Theo bowed and swept an arm as if it was him that had made and carried it all up making the woman giggle.
"Thank you," she signed back making him smile wider and more genuine. He took a seat at a small table with her where they could sit and talk.
While the pair signed in silly conversation, his eyes could not help but watch as Neal moved about the room again before taking a seat near Fletcher. He could not watch long and instead focused on gently redirected Edwina's hands into the correct positions for the words she was trying to say. His touch lingered as he smiled tenderly at her.
"You're improving. You could teach, Mr. Truckett at this rate, couldn't she Mr. Daw?"
Oh. The signing.
He shouldn't have allowed it: that sick and burning jealousy. It's fake, he reminded himself. It's all fake. He tried to use his memories of Theo's touch as a ward against it, but even those didn't entirely keep him from glaring at the two. What was the man thinking, letting her in on this? Why'd he keep encouraging it? Never mind the hit they were taking to how useful a secret language could be right now. It shouldn't have been happening at all. Not with that ungrateful, two-faced brat.
By the time Theo had addressed him, Fletcher regarded the illustration of the cargo fluyt with intense and sour contempt. His eye slid off the page to rest on the nobleman. "Wouldn't know, sir. I've barely learned the basics. That's more your area of expertise, really." He lowered the book and glanced over at Neal. "Could be useful, though, ey?"
The man smiled, first at him, and then more broadly at Edwina. "Certainly. Consider this bodyguard your humble student, Miss Edwina."
"I should hope so," he replied. "It is meant to be my main language. Now Mr. Truckett see that you learn well unlike Mr. Daw here. Lady Obower is practically a master at this point in her skills. It would be beneficial to me if my staff could actually communicate with me properly after all."
"Oh Teddy," she simpered, "wouldn't you rather keep it just our little thing?"
"And hurt poor Mr. Truckett's feelings? Of course not my dear. He looks like he's actually pay you plenty mind in his lessons unlike some people."
Neal shot an uneasy look at Fletcher as though he didn't realize what he'd actually signed up for until that moment. "Of course," he replied. "I've been told I'm a quick learner. That is, if it wouldn't be any trouble to you, Miss."
Fletch had returned his attention to the book and made a point of leaning back into the chaise and grunting as he settled in. At Theo's second jab, though, his eyebrow twitched and his eye flashed murderously. He scoffed, then remembered himself and tried to pass it off as a coughing fit. And then it really did turn into a coughing fit, and he shut the book altogether and leaned into his sleeve, holding a finger up as he did.
"Fuck," he mumbled, sniffling and resuming that same relaxed position. "Ugh. 'Pologies Miss. Sir. Dunno what came over me."
"No, not at all. Why don't you come sit by me and I'll show you the letters. You...can read normally yes?"
Theo bit his tongue and closed his eyes for a moment to not have to process the conversation happening in front of him. When he reopened them it was to see all eyes on Fletcher and the man in the throes of another coughing fit.
"Are you...alright? Would you like some water?"
"Of course, Miss," Neal simpered. Ignoring Fletcher's coughing fit entirely, he slunk over to join her where she sat. He was careful to leave a respectful distance between them, but already Fletch could see the little signals that his kind knew to display: legs pointed towards her, head tilted the same direction, mirroring her expression. Good. The man was doing what he was paid for.
Fletch turned to Theo, still rather irritated about all that he'd seen the man do. "No, no, I'm fine, I'm fine. It's nothing. Probably just dust or the cold or something." He glanced reflexively at his sleeve, but once again there was nothing there, and his concern eased again. It occurred to him that he'd never told Theo about those dark years when he'd been on the verge of succumbing to a disease that was half his fault and half a fact of life. If it came back, would it be his fault again? Or was it just inevitable?
He shook himself mentally and tried to put it out of his mind. It wasn't back. There wasn't any blood. Any fatigue he'd experienced lately was more than likely from the excessive drinking. And the cough was a smoker's cough, and the cold had just made it worse as it always did. That was all. Still, he looked distant and preoccupied as he picked the book back up and resumed his inspection of the ship drawing. He wondered if he should tell the man. Maybe not now. Maybe some day.
Theo furrowed his brow in concern but decided against pushing the issue. Instead he chose to sit down at his piano to play. While Neal worked his magic, Theo played his. He picked something soft and soulful to play, a piece that spoke of gentle hope. It was hardly fitting for the time of year but was less mournful than some of the things he had been playing of late. He kept his fingers light upon the keys so as to not derail the conversations around him. But with his back to Fletcher he was kept from staring at the man for better or for worse.
Was he sick? His coat still needed repairing or replacing now with the damaged warming charms upon it. Add the drinking and the having barely slept the night before and of course Fletcher had caught some nasty humor that sought to settle into his lungs and bones. He would have to remember later to order up some tea for drinking and herbs for burning to help the man fight it out of his system before it could take deeper root.
To the side, Edwina continued her lessons. She relaxed quickly in the other man's presence and seemed completely unbothered by the fact that her fiancé was not only right there but deaf to her advances. In fact she took Theo's bait easily and was soon making jokes and lightly touching Neal with a sense of companionship. She shoved his shoulder or tapped his hand, laughed too loud or too long and continuously leaned in towards him as if hanging on his every word.
The plan was working. Was the girl that naive that she didn't sense such an obvious trap? Fletcher's eyebrows raised incredulously when she began to touch Neal. Even if it was played off innocent, neither Theo or him could be expected to believe that it was. And that she was doing it all right in front of her fiancé...it was cold. She'd discarded him before his very eyes at the first opportunity. She hadn't even waited until Theo had left the room. And that told Fletch all he needed to know. It answered the question Theo had asked: how much did they want to ruin her?
Well. Now Fletch wanted to see her crushed into the ground. He was looking forward to watching her squirm. Fuck these nobles and their politics. Fuck them for making such a beautiful man so miserable at every opportunity. He'd break her for it.
While he festered in the corner and Theo played, the two continued on as though they were the only ones in the room. Neal played the part of a quiet, patient, charming young bodyguard. He didn't return her touches, but he did begin to lean into them, and his glittering green eyes met hers for longer and longer each time. Peppered throughout their flirtations were questions about herself, her interests, her life. Again, Fletch knew it was an act. He'd seen them do this before with new clients, or nervous clients, or cheating clients. It was their equivalent of the noble game, and any whore worth their salt played it well. But bloody hell it was convincing.
Edwina lingered that day for longer than usual, until her and Neal had gone through every letter and the trays had been well picked at and the tea had long gone cold. When at last she departed the piano room, it was mid-afternoon. Fletcher's shoulders must have been tense the whole time, because now, as he sagged into the chaise in relief at not having to listen to her stupid voice, they ached. "Was good to see her again," Fletcher said, obviously not meaning a damned word of it. "I think she's enamored, sir."
Theo did his best to ignore it all. He was numb to these games, to these fake people, to everyone leaving him in the end. When he glanced and saw their closeness, he had to close his eyes again and just lose himself in the playing. The plan was working. The rest did not matter. His feelings were not warranted here. He did not matter for this to work.
And so he played for hours and hours on end. It was only when Edwina came to wish him goodbye with a kiss to the cheek that made him flinch in surprise that he finally stopped with a discordant crash of notes. He apologized profusely and embraced her warmly before waving her off and sliding back into his seat.
Unlike Fletcher he did not slump and instead remained cautious given the presence of their additional "guard."
"Do you think the job is doable for you, Mr. Truckett? Or is this beyond your abilities? There's no shame if it is. I know the games we play are very taxing here."
Neal returned to his spot next to Fletcher, looking quite satisfied with himself for how well he'd seemingly done. But his mouth did twitch again at Theo's insinuation that anything at all was beyond his abilities. "It's quite doable, Mr. Archer. It's all well within my set of skills." He'd started to continue on, but seemed to think better of it. Now you're catching on, Sparkles, Fletch thought.
"Your fiancée is...friendly," he added at last.
"She is, isn't she," he replied. "Seems to really make it her business to get to know all the staff personally. Commendable really."
His voice however held none of the pride that should have accompanied statements. Theo just looked worn.
"Also if you truly wish to learn sign language I would suggest not taking too much stock in what she teaches you. For all her earnestness, she's not very good at it and tends to be more focused on other things.
"If there's nothing you feel the need to report at this time and no questions I think I'm going to retire for the afternoon. Thank you for your good work today Mr. Truckett."
Neal stood, seemingly surprised at being dismissed so early in the day. "Sir?" he asked. "No, no questions. ...Thank you. You both know where to find me, then." Fletcher rose to his feet as well, taking his time and setting the book back where he'd found it. He was still rather guarded from his earlier bout of jealousy, and still distant and troubled from his coughing fit, and the way he regarded Theo was more how he'd used to than the adoring glance of a man whose passion was barely contained. He waited pointedly until Neal had left the room before speaking up.
"Suppose I'll follow you, then."
He glanced and caught Fletcher's words and nodded slightly, looking utterly distracted by his own thoughts. Quietly, Theo led them both back up to his room.
"I think I may lay down, if you desire to rest in your room or switch shifts for the rest of the afternoon and evening I understand. I know training Mr. Truckett and monitoring my safety are doubly taxing for you right now."
Fletcher paused near Theo's door and looked the man over. Now that he took in the full sight of him, he did seem genuinely exhausted by the ordeal. Fletch didn't blame him for it. Truthfully, he could use the time himself to sneak in another drink and a long smoke out on the grounds. And after all that he'd witnessed today, and the whiplash he'd felt from their embrace in the closet to Theo's barbed words and flirtations in the piano room, he thought he could use a moment to get his head on straight again. He shrugged. "Yeah, alright. I'll see you around, then, sir."
With that, he nodded his farewell and retreated to his own room. He had himself a swig of whiskey, then sat down on the bed and began to roll himself a few cigarettes.
His shoulders drooped some but Theo offered a tired, friendly smile before entering his room. Part of him had hoped Fletcher would join him and they could get some more alone time together in. Truthfully though he was exhausted and heart-heavy.
He changed out of his sash and over robe before collapsing into his bed. The blankets were pulled up over his chin and he stared out the window at the sun filtering through the tree leaves.
How was it that even though he wanted her gone, he was still so badly stung by it all? And then there was Fletcher. Was the game too much? Was he already having second thoughts? Was he angry with Theo or just holding distance? Could Theo himself even keep up with all of this? Should he?
He wanted to.
The man told him to be greedy and he was but he'd seen the coldness from Fletcher and found himself unsure if it was an act or his fault or both. He wanted to run up to the other door and slip in. To crawl into his lover's arms and melt. To get up to mischief and be reassured.
But he stayed put. A sigh fell from his lips as he rolled onto his back and he stared up at the canopy.
"You're fucking this up, Theodore. What are you doing? You don't deserve him. You really don't. You're just hurting him.
"He said be greedy. You're supposed to trust him like you've asked him to trust you. He's an adult making adult decisions. He thinks it's worth it then it's worth it right? He's confident, experienced, worldly...
"Then what am I?" Theo groaned and sighed to himself rubbing at his face. He growled and chucked a pillow off the bed. "She drives me crazy. Can't stand her!"
He was halfway through rolling his second when Theo started up again. He was so used to it by now that he didn't even bother to look up at the nanny door, just nodded and sighed along and replied as though he was part of the conversation.
"No, you're not. You definitely don't, love. You deserve better. Not hurting me, you ridiculous thing, just don't like seeing you doing that with her." But the more Theo went on, the more he got a pit in his stomach at the knowledge that the man didn't know he could hear him. It had begun to feel like spying. Grumbling to himself, he finished rolling and got to his feet, swinging the nanny door open just in time to see Theo chuck a pillow. He leaned in the doorway and waited for the man to finish.
What he should have said was that he could hear every noise in his own room like he was standing right next to the man. What he said instead was, "Yeah, I can't, either. Can't wait to ruin her fucking life over this. Meantime: want a walk and a smoke?"
Theo squeaked seeing the door open but his face lit up a bit to see his love standing in his doorway. He popped up out of bed, tossing the covers off and moving further into the room.
"A walk would be lovely...if you're not too tired that is. Don't have to drag me with you."
He wobbled some looking very much like he wanted to step in but holding back out of safety and uncertainty.
"No, no. Think I need it to clear my head, honestly." He frowned slightly and considered what he'd originally come in there to say, tried to find a delicate way to put it, failed, and decided just to go for it. "Right. Theo. You should probably know something first, or you'll think I'm a mind-reader for saying what I'll say in a minute. Any noise you make in here, I can hear in there. Any noise," he emphasized. "Actually makes it hell to go to sleep sometimes. Point being..."
Fletcher raised a hand and started counting off his counterpoints on each finger. "You've fucked up nothing. You aren't hurting me, love, and you'll know it if you do. You deserve what makes you happy, and I dunno how in the everliving fuck I'm that for you, but I'm sure as shit not arguing with it if it means I get to be with you. And I could say the same to you: you're sharp and witty and you've a bleeding heart and you've somehow convinced yourself that an eyeless alcoholic is your answer. There's two sides to everything. Wish you'd ask me before going off thinking yours is the only truth, here."
The more Fletcher talked the more his cheeks flushed and eyes widened. He could be heard? How long had that been a thing? Was he that loud? Had he been failing to regulate his volume all this time? Were the walls that thin? What else had others heard? What else had he let slip? Could the guards hear him outside the room?
Had Elijah known?
Theo fought to bury the thought so he could focus on Fletcher instead. "I mean...you still have an eye," he laughed nervously. He was completely overwhelmed with emotion though and once more was fighting off tears.
"Can I—" Theo cut off his whisper and made all manner of distressed faces before switching to sign. "Is it safe? Can I have a hug? I have so many questions. I'm so sorry."
Fletch squinted at Theo's hands, but said his response aloud. "What? Oh. No. It's just your room and it's just mine. Can't hear fuck all in the hall, don't worry. I think you'd have to be yelling for it to carry that far. I just, erm, didn't think it was right for you not to know." He tilted his head, still far more serious than he'd been that morning. "You can have anything," he said. "Whatever you want from me. If it's a shag though, I'll need a smoke first."
He nodded in understanding and carefully stepped in closer to wrap his arms around Fletcher and nuzzle against the side of his head. Something still felt off. Was it because of what had been overheard? Theo sighed and squeezed a bit tighter.
"I had no idea, I'm sorry. I just was thinking out loud. Everything is silent to my ears but sometimes my head gets too loud. I'm sorry I let my anxieties and worries get out to you before I was ready to discuss them properly with you. It has everything to do with me and nothing to do with you. Just...I know something is bothering you and I don't know maybe it's just because you're tired or too much time posturing but...I was just trying to sort out my own stuff before dumping it all on you. Give you some space. Give me some space so I'm not just this neurotic Pretty Boy."
Theo pulled back enough to look at Fletcher proper. "As for you, you're clever, kind, gentle, have your own wicked and bawdy sense of humor, have the most heartbreakingly beautiful smile, and you out of everyone in the whole world make me feel like I'm—" he choked up and had to take a moment to try and blink away tears. "Like I could maybe be enough. Like I'm not a broken discard. Like when you say you aren't going anywhere, you out of everyone will actually keep to your word and stay because you said you would."
Fletcher didn't entirely relax into the embrace, but he did return it. He let Theo blubber for a while as he kept his good eye on the man's door. When they drew apart, though, he focused on Theo alone, and his expression grew severe when his love referred to himself as worthless. "Your people are the broken ones. Not you, love. It's them. They're rotten. And I know rotten, believe me, but these cunts — they make me want to burn things. That's their words in your head. It's not mine. So stop putting their lies in my mouth."
Fletch leaned back a bit and crossed his arms, wrestling with his thoughts and impulses. He looked to the side and ground his jaw as he thought. When he said what had been eating at him, it came out abruptly like he'd lost the war with his restraint. "It's her," he said. "It's you and her signing. It's her knowing anything about it and pretending to care. It's us losing a perfectly good way to talk on the sly with her in the room. And...it's watching you with her while she learns," he added gruffly. "Wish you'd never let her in on it. She doesn't care at all."
He hung his head some in shame but nodded at Fletcher's words. He was right. He needed to be better. He needed to trust. Out of everyone Fletcher had never betrayed him, had never done him wrong, and had always advocated for him. If anyone was going to stay, believe in him, maybe even love him, it would be Fletcher.
His expression softened further and unconsciously he reached up to cup Fletcher's cheeks. "Oh my heart you're right and I didn't consider. I won't teach her further. She's terrible anyway so our conversations are not at risk but I can see how our special thing could be irritating to watch for you. I too was left feeling uncomfortable watching the two of them or having to touch her in ways I only want to touch you. Can you forgive me for my thoughtlessness?"
Fletcher squinted at him suspiciously. "You taking the piss right now? This a joke?"
Theo looked back at him horrified, dropping his hands to the other man's shoulders. "Of course not," he replied in complete shock and incredulity.
"You learned to sign for me. I did not ask you to. We were not already as we are. You did it simply because it was part of my life and it is important to me.
"She meanwhile had to be asked. She does it for show and clout to put on a performance for her poor, deaf fiancé. She cannot even be bothered to learn or improve on her own. She makes the same basic mistakes and uses every opportunity to turn it to her advantage.
"Of course it's upsetting to you. All you've done and I go and teach a woman who hates me and flirts...flirts in the same room as me as if I have not eyes instead of ears. And I didn't even consider how it must feel for you."
His brow furrowed and he bit his own lip anxiously. "Do I truly come off as the type to be so cruel to you? Do I condescend and patronize you like my father?" He asked not accusingly but in deep fear and concern of the answer. "Am I him?"
It was Fletcher's turn to look horrified. "What? No. Fuck no, Theo. That's not — that's not it at all, I just...she doesn't deserve you. And I'm not saying I do. I don't. I know I don't, but it just eats at me when she — "
Oh. Was that it? He swallowed and turned his head aside again, eye darting back and forth, like he was desperately avoiding the truth. He took a deep breath and let it out sharply before looking the man dead in the eye again. "I know it's pretend, alright? I do. But from the ball onward, it's fucked with me. It's not just the signing. It's that you can touch her like that, and smile at her like that, and it's for everyone to see. And here we are hiding in closets and sneaking and that's after we even let ourselves have this."
He shook the other man slightly with a frown. "Why do you get to say you are undeserving but I don't? Why don't get to yourself down and I'm not? Do not speak poorly of my beloved. You hurt my heart when you do."
His hands slid down to take Fletcher's and hold them close. "I do get it. I think I've just spent so much time burying myself that I accept even these closeted moments without question or trying to long for more. But I do long for more. And I do understand how you feel...it is how I feel about...about you gathering information from Neal using certain...methods."
"I'm only saying it because it's the truth. If I want something, I take it when it's offered, Theo. Always have. Deserving it's another matter. You can't look at me and then look at you and argue otherwise."
At Theo's mention of Neal, he drew back. The sour look returned. "Well from where I'm standing, you don't have to sit there and watch like I do with you and her," he snapped. "What, you think I want to? The thought makes me sick. It's the quickest way to get him to think I'm a vulnerability. I need his guard down and I need him to think he's winning. That's it. That's all it is. Don't turn this into me sleeping around on you. I'm doing it for you."
He sighed tiredly and allowed Fletcher to step away from him, his hands dropping to his sides. When he spoke it was with complete calmness filled with traces "And I'm asking you not to do it for me. I'm saying that it makes me feel worse than if you had cheated willingly. I mean, would you be alright if I slept with Edwina and said it was for your sake? That I wanted nothing to do with it but it was the fastest way I could protect you? That my heart belongs to you but I haven't body freely for your sake to another?
"It doesn't feel good to me. Not for that matter does outing you and putting you at that risk. This house is dangerous enough as it is. One wrong word and my father will see you gone and your life made hell. I will not survive it Jack. I will not survive you being driven apart from me. That is how deeply I care for you. Is it truly so awful of me to feel jealous and afraid for you over such a thing?"
Theo was right. He was right about all of it. Fletch had been so confident in the plan that he'd forgotten where he was, and under whose thumb. And in Theo's shoes, he'd be more than hurting — he'd be livid. He'd be screaming. He gazed at Theo now with a sick and mournful guilt like he might break down right there in front of the man. "I'm sorry. I'm just so used to...fighting. I forget you're not him, sometimes. But...you're right. I won't. I won't do it. That's a promise. But you've got to help me find another way. And I'm not leaving, alright? I'm not. It would break me too."
Fletcher glanced at the door and back again as though worried that the Baron would come marching in, summoned by the mere mention of him. "And if the worst ever happens, and your dad tries anything, he's got another thing coming. That's another promise. I'm not scared of whatever he thinks he can do to me. I don't give a flying fuck about my reputation here. These nobles can come to I'káa, lose an eye to Big Guy, and then kiss my arse."
"I believe you." Theo stepped back into him and pulled him close. "I believe you and I trust you. We will do this and we will do it together. Just...don't be reckless. And in turn I'll be more mindful in my interactions with her. We have each other right? Neither of us are alone to do this without the other anymore. I'm here to help support you and you're here to help me figure out what you can help with."
He gave him another squeeze and rubbed his arms. "And I hope it never comes to it but...I'm glad there's somewhere safe for you."
Theo gave a slight side eye of mischief though. "They may night kiss your behind though. That's my privilege and I'm not sharing it."
"Mmm...you know I'm joking, don't you? About the running and hiding part. They kick me, I'm not leaving you here like this. I'll find a way back. Maybe that's a chat for another time, though." Fletcher caught Theo's soft, nimble hand and held it in his own. He drew it towards him and pressed his lips against the man's knuckles like an unspoken apology. "I'm not leaving you," he repeated, more earnestly this time. "I'm not losing you. You're stuck with me. Terrible decision on your part, really," he added with a little smirk and a twinkle in his eye. "As for kissing my arse, well. I can think of a few other places further up on the list before we come around to that. Can't you?"
He wobbled on his feet some looking drained but relieved. Gently he moved closer and embraced Fletcher again. "Promise to keep yourself. Promise to always return. I will not consider it leaving me otherwise. You're equally stuck with me I'm afraid."
Theo pulled back enough so he could kiss the other man tenderly. "Let's get you that walk and smoke before that list of kisses is fully explored. I know you're likely practically rabid for one by now."
Fletch leaned into Theo's touch for the first time since they'd come back from the piano room. "For a kiss? Or a smoke?" he joked with a sly tilt of the head. He drew away and let Theo's hand slide from his fingers. "You're right. We should be going. Can't get too caught up in this during the day or I'd never leave these rooms."
He led the way back out, careful to avoid being sighted by anyone but the staff. They passed down through the kitchen together, ducking out the servant's entrance and into the frigid afternoon. Fletch pulled his coat tighter around himself and shivered, and as the cold air hit his lungs, he could feel the cough returning. He let it out into his sleeve again. "Bloody hell," he muttered, clearing his throat and trying to get a handle on it. "Swear it's the dust in that place." He shook it off and continued on across the grounds until at last they reached that same old corner with the bench and the pail.
Fletch wasted no time in lighting up, or in continuing the subject that they'd touched on earlier. "Right. So you tell me, then: how do you want me to dig up dirt on him? Far as I see it, there's The Siren and fuck all else for ways in. Could always start with the women there, though. Talking. Not sleeping with 'em," he clarified.
"Aye I imagine it all gets quite stagnant with the house being shut up for the winter. I'm sorry you're struggling with it. The healer in town might have a tonic that can help. I know he prescribes me one when the spring flowers first arrive and wreak havoc on my senses."
Theo did not answer until he was sat upon their bench with his back resting against the tree. The air was frigid but it helped to wake him up some and he turned his mind back to the topic at hand. Thoughts of Fletcher without apparel and stolen kisses could wait for their return indoors.
"I think talking at the Siren would be a good start. If it requires coin I will cover it. Find out if he has friends and connections as well. Do they keep client lists? Could you procure them if they did? Our blackmail may not be so much him as his wealthy clients who have been promised discretion."
"No, no, it's nothing. I'm fine. No need to fuss. Just a cough." Right on cue, the smoke triggered it again, and he scowled at his own bad timing, but carried on nevertheless. "Yeah. It'll need coin. Might be pretty steep, actually. They don't betray their own and they don't make a habit of selling their clients out. Dunno about records. I'm usually a bit preoccupied when I'm there.
"I'll need to think on an angle for us. Some way to either get them to give it up willingly, or give me enough for some other lead. Might end up getting myself banned, which — " He stopped mid-sentence to wince at the thought of being cut off from a vice so completely. Then he raised an eyebrow at Theo and grinned. "Bully for you if that ever happens, ey? Your bastard man losing his whoring? Like Yule came early, I'm sure."
"Invite them for Yule dinner," he snorted, rubbing his face. "We'll think of something. We have some time still before the trap is sprung. And we may miraculously even be lucky. He may do his job and be done with it all."
Fletcher's teasing didn't have the intended effect however. The nobleman's shoulders dropped further and a sad expression flitted across his features before he was able to catch and quell it.
"There are other pleasure houses. And people who don't belong to a house. And people who aren't even in the business of pleasure. I'm sure if it came to it you'd still have plenty of options to suit your moods."
His reply was logical and calm but Theo could not meet his lover's eyes. It made him feel low knowing that he was unable to provide everything that Fletcher needed of him. But what concerned him further was the fact that as a wholly inexperienced lover himself, he may end up putting the man off intimacy with Theo entirely once they ever reached the point of laying fully with each other. They would cross that bridge when they got to it and with everything else going on, Theo didn't feel able to express such concerns. There were far more pressing matters to deal with than his current lack of sex life.
Fletcher's face fell at how Theo had reacted. The man seemed so defeated by even the idea of him being with anyone else. Was that how this was going to go? In confessing how much he wanted Theo, had he unknowingly ran a nail into the coffin of his carefree days? Was it even Theo's business, this early in? He wondered if he'd backed himself into a corner and was now forced to choose between his love's needs and his own. That never ended well, in his experience. All it did was breed resentment.
But...he'd said he'd stick by Theo. And he would. So he'd try.
"No, come on now. It was a joke, love. Just a joke. No need to be so down about it. I've stopped going anyways since Ash. You know that."
"I know it is. It's okay. Just...this is a conversation we will be having in the future. I'm not fulfilling your needs right now and I understand that. Yours may come to light again before I'm ready and it'll be what it'll be. I rather you be happy and comfortable than resenting me for needing time," he commented with a causal shrug.
"We'll figure it out just...I don't really want to have this conversation outside where we can be overheard if that's alright. I do want to have it though. I'm not shutting you down, you understand that right?"
All it did was make the whole thing feel even more twisted up. Fletch wasn't comforted in the least by what Theo had said. And there was no one around to hear them in this far corner, and he wasn't at all convinced that the man was being honest — to either of them. But the whole day had rubbed them both wrong, and Theo clearly didn't want to talk about it just now, so he'd drop it. "Sure," he replied distantly. "Whatever you need."
He flicked his cigarette butt into the pail, where it fizzled out in the rainwater that had collected there. "Think I'll go in, then. I'm getting cold."
Theo wanted to stay. The cold and damp wasn't ideal for health but it wasn't the stifling misery of indoors either. Back inside he'd be trapped with their unsaid words and his anxiety. Fletcher did not seem any less bothered than when they had first left to come out here. In fact he looked worse.
Still Theo got to his feet without complaint. The other man couldn't go in without him and with how he had been coughing, the nobleman wasn't keen on testing to see whether or not he really was sick or soon would be.
"Yeah," he sighed, following Fletcher back into the house before heading up to his own room. He should have just stayed in bed. There were ample opportunities for him to do so and each time he left it, things got worse. Maybe he should just stay in bed forever. Or perhaps it was the bed that was the issue and he should never return to its warm comfort.
Instead though he opened his balcony doors and went back out into the cold. Soon they would be locked entirely until spring to keep the heat from escaping but for now he'd seek refuge here. The was caught it would be hell to pay but honestly, Theo was very far past caring anymore what his mother wanted or thought. He was just so tired.
He spent the rest of the afternoon doing what every other bodyguard did: guarding Theo from afar while allowing the man his privacy. By the time his shift was up, he'd grown restless and thirsty, and wanted nothing more than to escape this house and find himself a distraction from his own thoughts. He knew it would look bad. He knew what Theo would think of him. Seeing as the man didn't want to talk about it long enough to clear the air on the matter, he found that he didn't much care at the moment. Or maybe that was just the lie that he told himself.
He made his way into town in the evening, bundled up against the chill, with coin in his pocket ready to spend on vices and Yule gifts alike. He took his time wandering the night market. Found a set of hair pins with frogs on them for Neish, and some cigars for Tiff. He fought back memories of Theo in the cloak, and when they would no longer stay at arm's length, he left and found a pub — a different pub from the one they'd been to.
Hours later, when all was cold and quiet and the occupants of the manor had long since gone to sleep, he stole back in through the servant's entrance and snuck up the stairs to his room. There, he dumped his gifts into a drawer drawer, had himself an unnecessary nightcap on top of his already comfortable buzz, and began to ready himself for sleep.
He'd heard the guard shift change and Fletcher leave. But as dusk became evening became night, Theo found himself quietly staying up by the fire waiting to feel the man's return. He wondered briefly if this was how it would always be; them stinging against each other, Fletcher running off to drink and white because Theo had said he was fine with it, and Theo waiting up all night to know he got home safely.
His eyes were aching by the time his bodyguard returned though from straining to read by the fire. A drawer opened and closed. Footsteps across the floor. A floorboard sagged underfoot.
For several moments he held his breath unsure of what to do. Should he get up and knock? Should he just go to bed since he hadn't come for him? Would he be seen as a needy or jealous lover if he did? Or uncaring and petty if he didn't?
"Jack?" He called ever so softly, hoping that the hearing every sound possible hadn't been so entirely true while also hoping the other man would respond back. "Is it too late to bother you?"
He'd pulled his boots off and tossed his coat on the chair and was about to splash his face when he heard Theo's voice. He stopped in front of the basin and listened. There it was again. Sighing, he pushed away from his little wash stand and made his way to the nanny door. He unlatched it and nudged it open with his foot, then returned to the other side of his room, unsure whether he wanted whatever feelings and confessions and inevitable fighting Theo wanted to drag in with him tonight.
The door opened for him and Theo got up to lock down his room and draw the curtains before entering. With Fletcher washing his face he was unsure with how upset the man still was with him but decided to be a bit brave. He stepped up close and gave him a gentle hug from behind.
"I missed you," he said truthfully. "Did you have a good time?"
Fletcher did a clumsy and hasty job of drying off. He turned around in Theo's arms — a difficult maneuver even when sober — and leaned back on the wash stand as he considered the man. With so much booze in his system, though, he couldn't stay guarded for long, and the loving smile he reserved for Theo crept back across his features. The nobleman grew closer. Or maybe Fletch did. He wasn't sure. He only knew that the presence of him awoke that same fire all over again and shoved all hurt and frustration aside. "Fancy meeting you here," he said, and returned the embrace with a kiss that betrayed just how much he'd been wanting the man. He ignored the question. They'd get to that later. "So, Pretty Boy," he breathed. "What're you here for tonight?"
He attempted to slip his hand into Fletcher's and interlock their fingers. "I told you, I missed you." Theo swallowed thickly, his smile wobbling some with anxiety. "I can go if you want. I just noticed you come home and wanted to greet you. If you're tired or not in the mood, that's okay. Just glad you're safely back."
Fletcher frowned. He drew back and pulled his hand from Theo's and then grasped him by the shoulders. "Theo. Theo, Theo, Theo. No. Hey. Look at me. Look at me, gorgeous. I wasn't with anyone." His expression sank even further as he pulled his shirt aside, exposing his neck and shoulder. "All I've done is splash my face. So you come here and tell me you smell a woman on me, love. Because there hasn't been one. I just went for a drink and Yule stuff. That's all. Go look in the second drawer if you don't believe me."
His hand fell limply to his side at what he first thought was rejection but then Fletcher was tearing his shirt aside and the man was left deeply confused. He furrowed his brow and shook his head quickly, his own hands coming up to rest on his lover's chest.
"Jack, no. It's okay. I don't need you to prove your word. It's a bit much to need to smell a woman on you or rifle through your things don't you think? You said you haven't and I believe you. And again...it's alright if you do. I get it. But that being said...would you like some attention, my heart? Get your nobleman on his knees for you?"
"'S not. 'S not too much. Really. Whatever it takes. Last thing I want to do is hurt you, love." He let his collar go, but it was clear now that he was in a barely-contained panic. "Sometimes I see it: you don't believe me. Or you say you do and I know you don't. So whatever it takes."
Fletch looked even more alarmed at the offer, but stumbled over what the right words were to say. "Not like this. Not when there's this thing hanging over us and you're hurting. I'll hold you and I'll love on you, but I'm not taking advantage. It's like you said with Neal: last thing you wanted was for me to do that, right? Well you don't need to do this to keep me around. Even tipsy I can tell you're not in it for the right reasons."
Theo took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Come sit down and I'll hold you and we can talk some. How does that sound?"
He pressed his forehead against Fletcher's for a moment before offering a hand out to him to take as he took a step back towards the bed. "Thank you for being considerate of me. I just want...to take care of and nurture you back. You always seem to be the one stuck drying my tears. Sorry."
"Yeah, 'n I'm the bastard man who makes you cry, so..." Fletch followed without question, not the most graceful man he'd ever been by far as he stumbled forward and rolled onto the bed, pulling Theo down with him. He didn't wrap the man up in a tight embrace as he usually did, but remained far enough away from him to gaze at him. It was a mournful gaze. A troubled one. Theo's offer had seemed to do the opposite of what he'd intended it to.
"Love...I'm not in the business of comparing who I've been with. So don't take this that way, alright? But..."
Fletcher trailed off. He turned and shoved his face into the pillow and let out a heavy sigh and a few choice words before turning back so he could be read. "My husband went through it before I met him. Alright? The man before me was a son of a bitch. And Ven treated this sort of thing...a bit like you're doing now. Like a chore. An obligation. And that's never how it should be. That is never what I wanted from him, and it's never what I want from you. So whoever taught you that that's what you've got to do to keep a man...well. I've words for him, first of all. But second: he was wrong.
"What I want from you," he continued, a little softer and a little closer now, "Is for you to want it. And to want it for you. Not for me. You could offer me everything on a platter, love, and I'll not take it from you if it's coming from where this is."
He collapsed into bed with him but leaned up on his elbow so to be on more equal lounging. "It's not like that at all to me, Jack. I don't consider it a chore or a way to keep you here or even as a means to apologize or manipulate you. I offered because I do want it. But I understand we're not in the best of moods currently either of us. Now's not the right time."
Theo slid one hand across the bed closer to Fletcher without touching. He craved the contact but felt like he was doing everything wrong. Everything was setting his anxiety on edge and none of it would be any semblance of better until they had a chance to talk.
"I know you've been drinking—which is fine—but are you feeling able to talk about things right now? Or should we wait until you're less tipsy? Either is perfectly alright and I know this is not optimal timing especially when you wanted to talk earlier and I wasn't comfortable doing so at the time."
"Yeah. M' sorry, I had a bit more when I got back," he winced. "I just...I want yesterday. I want this feeling to go away and I want what we had yesterday. I don't want to fight anymore. I'm so tired of fighting, love. I want simple. Can it just be simple?"
He sighed and sat up, reaching for Fletcher but stopping at the last minute. "May I touch?
"I don't think we're fighting. Or I definitely don't want to be. I just...I don't know what I keep doing wrong. I'm not trying to be problematic. And yes obviously we will have this conversation tomorrow or later. But I want simple too. I hope you know that."
Fletch frowned, genuinely confused. "What you're doing wrong?" he repeated. He took Theo's hand and drew it towards him, brushing his lips against the man's fingers. "You know that's always going to be a yes."
Theo rubbed his fingers against Fletcher's lips before shifting to pull the other man into his lap and begin finger combing his hair again. "Your yes now is allowed to be a no later. I am not the only one that needing consent from applies to."
He gently massaged the creases in his brow to help soothe Fletcher's features. The action also helped to delay and gather his thoughts before he was able to answer.
"I keep upsetting you when I'm not trying to cause conflict at all. I'm just bumbling through things when I'm not even trying to make things complicated."
He couldn't seem to relax into whatever it was Theo was doing. He just wasn't used to it. It was so foreign to him to be touched without expectation. It felt like danger, even though it was the farthest from danger he possibly could have been. His brow furrowed deeper with his own growing anxiety. "That's just life, though, isn't it?" he asked. "Where I come from, there's always someone trying to take your bread or insult your name to get ahead. There's always something to fight about, so I'm always ready for it. You forget that, don't you? You must've if you're making all this your fault."
Fletch reached up and tapped Theo lightly on the nose. "You're from here. I'm from there. We couldn't be more different. 'Course we're both stumbling in the dark. Be more strange if we didn't."
"I forget. And I am unused to it. Spoiled brat and all that. I'm used to mind games and verbal chess games so I'm hesitant with what I say, what I share and have to think everything through before I allow myself the vulnerability. I try to be better than it. I try to be more communicative and clear to counter it. I try not to let things fester because I know firsthand how things explode. But, with you I don't know the insults I cause only see the aftermath. I feel like I just keep failing you because you're always tensed for a fight and I'm always ducking to avoid one."
He stopped his touching with how Fletcher started to look more concerned and bothered by it and instead rested his hands at his sides. "I'm sorry. You didn't want to have this conversation right now."
Fletch grunted, and for a long time that was his only response. Then he rolled from Theo's embrace and sat up and leaned against the wall, arm up on one knee, regarding the man carefully. "And you think one too many times and I'll leave. Is that it?" he asked. He sighed and shook his head and scratched at his stubble. "And no matter what I tell you, you won't really believe it, right? Because when do you ever listen to what I tell you? But I'll say it anyway: you haven't even scratched the damned surface with anything you've done. You're the best thing that's happened to me, Theo. And I just told you this earlier today: you'll know it if you fuck up. You'll see it coming. This isn't that. Anyways, is this what it's going to be? The same conversation again and again because what I'm telling you doesn't sound like the lies you tell yourself?"
"No," he replied sternly, crossing his legs and sitting up straighter across from him. "You said you won't leave. I believe you. I asked you to come back if you have to. I believe you will. I listen to you and I don't understand where you come from saying I don't. I repeat that I believe you. I repeat that I don't need you to demonstrate your truth, that saying it is enough for me."
He lowered his head and picked at his cuticles until his fingers began to bleed and yet still kept picking out of anxiety. "I lack self-worth. This you know. I fight very hard with it to allow your praise to drown it out but it isn't something that will suddenly fix itself overnight. You're not the first person to offer praise. You just will be the first to not hurt me with it. And on top of that I am..."
Theo rolled his neck side to side and shifted his seated position in discomfort. "I'm embarrassed," he admitted while staring at Fletcher's jaw instead of his eyes.
Fletch grimaced at the sight of the blood. "Stop that," he muttered. He leaned forward and grasped both of Theo's hands in his own. "Embarrassed? What's there to be embarrassed by?"
Theo stopped his hands in Fletcher's grip but still squirmed a bit before finally giving up an answering. "I've never slept with anyone before, man or woman. I've never done any of this before beyond kissing. Last night...it was a first. I know you said you don't compare lovers and it's all so silly but I am...afraid and I don't know what I'm doing and no you won't leave but I don't know if I'll be enough and I don't want you resenting me or feeling trapped by me."
Fletcher squinted. He cocked his head like a dog trying to understand a new word. After a moment of that, he withdrew a hand and scratched his chin. "Never," he said. "Like never as in...oh. Ohhhhh." Elbow up on his knee again and chin balanced between his thumb and forefinger, he continued to process what he'd just heard. "That...yeah. No. Mmhm. That, erm...yeah. No. Everything makes so much sense now. I just didn't..."
He rubbed at the bridge of his nose and then dropped his hand and returned his attention to Theo. He was relieved. Strangely relieved. And much of the tension had left his face as a result of it. "I thought you just didn't have any interest. I thought, I don't know. I don't know what I thought. Certainly didn't think it was this, I can tell you that much."
Fletch took up Theo's other hand again. "I don't think I've ever been with a virgin. Maybe once, when I was fourteen or fifteen, and I didn't know it. But not where I've been aware of it. So in a way...I don't really know what I'm doing either, love. Which is maybe the least comforting thing I could tell you, honestly, but there you have it."
He squinted again as he worked his way up to a question. "So...so you do want to? You're just, what...is it scary? Is it the pain thing? Or...I mean...if it's just that you're worried you'll disappoint, I can assure you you won't. Really. I can promise you that."
He looked absolutely miserable as Fletcher muddled through putting the puzzle pieces together and coming to the correct conclusion. He knew he was an oddity. Hell his own father had tried to gift him with a whoring experience once he was of age and instead Theo had quietly spent the evening discussing with the women how they liked their jobs and how a pleasure house was run taking into the pros and cons of working in one versus on the streets as an independent. But to be his age and still be a virgin with nothing but romance stories to guide him in his desires was doing him no favors.
When he spoke it was in a voice still full of dejection and shame. "I do very, very much desire you. I desire everything with you. But I'm afraid of the pain. I'm afraid of being terrible. I'm terrified of being caught especially during my...first time. Or what if you hate it? Or worse what if I hate it? You promised to stay but what if you keep your word and you're miserable because we don't do things? Or we both enjoy it but I'm still not enough to satisfy you because you're...used to a very active private life?
"There's so many things and I've been trying not to make it your problem and to sort through it myself because it's all so stupid and silly and has very little to do with you. Just ignore me it's fine. I'm being unnecessarily annoying I know."
Fletcher listened intently to every concern, still holding Theo's hands firmly in his own. When the man trailed off into his usual doubts and shrinking, though, Fletch chuckled quietly. He reached up and brushed a thumb tenderly across the nobleman's cheek. "You know, of the two of us, you seem like you need the stress relief a little more," he smiled. "So tell me this, then. You're in this house, right. Say, some day, it all goes your way. Your shit dad is dead. Mum, too. You run the place. You have complete freedom to come and go as you please. You've been trapped there your whole life, and you've got all that time to make up for and the whole world to see. Would you stay here because it's dangerous out there? I don't think you would."
Fletcher shifted, settling back against the wall and making damned sure he wasn't seen as any sort of threat. "You can take it at your own pace, love. I won't push. But don't tell me you're going to let fear get in the way of something good. You won't know the answers to everything you've said unless you try it."
Fletcher's touch caused him to raise his gaze, his uncertainty and vulnerability crystal clear in his hazel eyes. He leaned in for as long as it was there before settling back into his spot and allowing Fletcher his space.
"What does stress relief have to do with any of this?" He asked innocently. Theo sighed and shook his head. "Again I know you won't. I DO listen. I just...how are we to be intimate in a house with so many people? I can't hear anything," he pouted. "It's so easy to get caught. It's so easy for me to make a sound without realizing. I want this. I want you more than you could ever know. I just am struggling with my own worthiness."
"What does wh..." Fletch stared, confused again, then shook his head to clear his mind. The man truly didn't know much. It explained everything, though, that was for certain. "I dunno. I mean, I know you can whisper. Just...do that? Or hold a hand over your mouth? Scream into the pillow? I'll be there, it's not like I can't stop you and tell you." His eye flashed hungrily at being told that he was wanted, and for a moment he sat up a little straighter, but by the next sentence out of Theo's pretty mouth, he'd deflated again.
"Well...do what feels right," he replied. "I'll be here when you want to. Doesn't have to be everything all at once, either. Slow's got its own merits."
"They're always screaming in the books," he muttered sullenly. "Jack? Are we okay? Are we going to be okay now? Or does this just change everything for the worst?"
Fletch chuckled. "Yeah, well, there's a reason for it. 'S a bit different than wanking it alone for twenty years. You'll see." He leaned forward and stole a kiss from the man, reaching up to brush his cheek and tuck his hair behind his ear. When he drew away, his confident smile had returned. "Still not even a scratch on the surface, love. You told me. N' now I know why it's all like this, and I know why I'm waiting. We'll be alright. I may just be a bit of a fiend for a bit."
Something caught up to him and he blinked and tilted his head. He leaned a little further away. "Was last night really your first time? I'd never have guessed it. You had me wrapped around your little finger with what you were doing."
The kiss as it often did threw him off guard and by the time Fletcher was pulling away he was a blushing mess again. But it was the smile that eased his worries and his tension. He didn't know how Fletcher did it but every time he smiled like that it just made Theo melt. He knew everything would be okay in the face of it.
"You can be a fiend," he replied softly. "It is not as if you will not be receiving attention from me. I enjoyed treating you."
Theo blushed again and sat further back after he had been unconsciously leaning closer towards the other man. He nodded in response unable to meet his eye. "You have been without for some time is all. But thank you for the compliment."
"Yeah, but...it's just not the same if it doesn't go both ways. I want to do the same for you, love. It won't feel right if I can't. Wait. Is...is this why you blush so much?" He smirked, basking in the glow of the man. "Here I thought I was just that charming. But no, every little thing sets you off, don't it? 'S never going to get old."
He returned his hands to Theo's and ran a rough thumb over the man's knuckles. "You know I know what I'm talking about with this. And it wasn't me being pent up. The way you touch me drives me wild. It's not like anything I've had before. You're...you're not like anyone I've known, Theo. You've got me falling so hard for you."
Fletcher's smirk had softened to a tired smile as he gazed lovingly at the beautiful man before him. They'd come full circle back to simple. This was what he'd wanted. This was where he needed to be. "What do you want tonight? I'm all yours."
"No? I didn't realize. I'm sorry I've been withholding it from you then. I just got excited by the idea of pleasing you, of making you the umm—" he cut off and blushed deeper, looking away completely bashful.
"I don't blush all the time I don't know what you're talking about. And you are very charming, and attractive, and intentionally impolite to get a rise out of me."
Theo looked up more confidently, his expression softening at the sweet words and gentle touches. "You're not the only one he reaffirmed. Far from it," he added before leaning in to give a sweet kiss. "You're exhausted. As much as I would enjoy...what I suggested earlier I think you're right and simple is best right now. There's always tomorrow. What do you want though? Your wants matter to me, dear heart."
He chuckled, cheeks creasing as he beamed. "I think you know exactly what I want, love. But seeing as I'm being a good little doggie, you show me where the line is. It's all your call, now. That's how it's got to work."
"You worry me that there are no lines for you. Cuddles and kisses until you fall asleep for now? We have a quiet day tomorrow at least. Have less to worry about being up early and bothered."
Slowly he moved in closer and adjusted to lay down while reaching for Fletcher to join him. "I'll see about getting us some candle clocks this weekend so we can actually get some sleep together instead of worrying about falling asleep. We'll have to test first of course that they'll wake you even. I can confirm that they'll do nothing for me," he chuckles softly. "Sorry about that."
"Is it so bad that I want you?" Fletch replied earnestly. "The line's there, love. There's just a lot between here and there, that's all. As for the clocks...let me handle that, would you? It'll make sense if people see me doing that. It'll raise eyebrows if you tell a servant to. I won't say no to falling asleep next to you every night, though," he added. "I think I've been wanting that since...since I did it by accident."
He laid back down, head propped up on one hand, and pulled his eyepatch off with the other. "Don't mind me, just stripping right in front of you," he quipped as he flung the thing across the room to land on the floor in the corner. "Now come here, gorgeous. Let me hold you."
Theo openly and pointedly dragged his eyes open and down Fletcher's form with an appreciative hum. "You have no idea how many mornings I've woken up dreaming of your warmth and realizing I'm all alone. Devastatingly crushing.
"And now...knowing I'm allowed to, it still feels like a dream," he commented immediately moving to worm in close. "You're not real. You're too wonderful."
Fletch stole another kiss, this time lingering in it, besotted with whiskey and the man alike. What Theo had said — his fear that Fletch would want more than the man could ever give — echoed in his mind. It scared him, too, to burn this badly for someone. To ache for them and wonder if what he got would ever be enough to quench his thirst. To hold so much back that he thought he might burst. He stole another, and another, until he was sure he'd worn out his welcome. "I'm not real? You take the words out of my mouth, I'm going to steal them right back," he smirked, just barely readable for how close he'd remained to the man. "You've been warned."
He snugged up close, pulling Theo in to rest the man's head on his chest. "Balls," he muttered as he immediately began to drift. "Going to fall asleep like this. You really do it to me."
The next thing he knew, he awoke to an empty bed again, and to Theo's lingering scent on his pillow. He rolled over and buried his face in it and breathed deep, grinning like a happy cat. Today, at least, would be simple: there were no visits or piano lessons or obligations. He could be near Theo without the whole exhausting bullshit affair of playing the game. Maybe he could even make the man blush again for the fun of it. Besides. His shift would start that afternoon, and that meant that he had just enough time to run into town and fetch what Theo had been referring to: a means to allow them both some time to sleep without the fear of being caught.
He was late in relieving Niles. "Are they even open at this hour?" the man teased him mildly. "He's just reading. Nothing to report."
"I was shopping, you cock," Fletch snorted, holding up a bag as evidence that he had, indeed, not been out whoremongering for once. "Afternoon, then."
"Aye, afternoon."
He waited for his fellow bodyguard to disappear down the stairs and completely out of sight before he ducked into Theo's room. The nobleman had flopped down on his bed and appeared to be deeply invested in a book. Fletch wondered if it was one of the scandalous ones this time. He dropped the bag off next to the nanny door and found himself a chair to rest his feet. It was just by coincidence that that chair allowed him to watch the man in his quiet contentment for as long as the moment would allow.
He was lovely. Soft and sad and achingly beautiful. Fletch thought he liked Theo best like this: at peace in his own world, with nobody to impress and no expectations to uphold. No makeup, hair a bit of a mess, clothes picked for him and not for the day. He wasn't stiff, either. He was so at ease. Maybe Fletcher wanted the pretty boy he'd seen before the ball, but he thought this was the one he loved.
"I surrender to it," he mumbled back between loving kisses. Theo dozed a bit but startled awake some time in the night for the fourth or fifth time and decided enough was enough. Reluctantly he slunk back into his own bed, shivering at cold sheets after having scrubbed himself of his lover's scent for the second night in a row.
The following day was a peaceful blur for him. Post breakfast he had kicked off his shoes and coat in favor of sprawling out in his bed to read. The hours whittled away as he rolled this way and that into each new comfortable reading position.
He was so engrossed in fact that come afternoon, he completely missed Fletcher's arrival into the room as he lay there kicking his legs and enjoying the adventures of a streetrat who had managed to gain the attentions of a cold-hearted Duke.
Nose still in his book, Theo got up and distractedly poured himself some more water. He leaned against the side table, half sitting on the edge as one hand held the book and the other raised the cup to his lips.
"That simply cannot be physically possible," he exclaimed quietly to himself. He dropped the book down against his leg and was halfway to taking a gulp of water when he caught sight of Fletcher from the corner of his eye and let loose a high-pitched squeal of surprise that resulted in him defensively chucking the book at the other man.
"Oh I'm sorry I'm sorry," he claimed immediately afterwards, while trying to reclaim the book before his lover did. "How long have you been sitting there?"
"Few minutes," Fletch replied quickly as he seized the opportunity without a moment's hesitation. He stood, bent, and snatched the book up before making a hasty retreat. As he walked, he thumbed through it, stopping to linger on a particularly graphic scene that seemed, like the book about pirates, to involve two men. "Huh," he chuckled. "Oh he's got his trousers down at a ball? Oh and so has the other one? Bit rude." He noticed Theo's approach just in time and scooted off again around the room, weaving and blocking the man's snatching hands with his body. "Ooh, that's raunchy, though," he went on, smirk growing wider and wider. At last, he slowed down and allowed Theo to reclaim the stolen prize, though by that point he'd read quite enough to know what sort of book it was.
"It's good. I approve," he grinned. "I'm borrowing it when you're done."
Theo went barreling after the book and tried desperately to get the book back. By the time it was relinquished he was very red in the face and lightly smacked Fletcher on the rear with it.
"It's just a silly book. Nothing to see here—did you lock the door?" He eyed the other man with dark eyes as he seemed to realize finally how close they were standing to each other.
"Oho. And he spanks me, too. No. No, I didn't. I didn't really expect this to be our first order of business," Fletch replied, jerking his chin towards the book. Then he noticed the way Theo was looking at him, and it caught up to him what the man was asking. His smirk quieted a little, though his gaze grew fiery. "I can if you want," he murmured.
He hesitated looking between the man's eye and his lips and back again. "Do you want to? We can just sit and read or go for a walk. Simple."
Fletch leaned a little closer with each shuddering breath. This was a terrible idea. They could so easily get caught. Somehow, he didn't care. Somehow that made it even more tempting. "Do I look like a man who wants a book and a walk, Theo?" he asked. He drew closer still until his fingers wove in between Theo's. Until his lips brushed against the man's. Then, like a spell broken, he stepped away and drew a deep and centering breath. He let it out, casting an anxious glance at the door. "It can wait," he breathed. "It's got to wait. We can't be doing this in broad daylight, lock or no."
He gasped softly and whimpered as Fletcher came and went like the tide. "Then it shall wait," he replied with calm finality even as his eyes hungered for Fletcher. Theo swallowed and carefully sighed out a breath while stepping back from the other man.
"I need to mm—wash my face. I'll be right back." Theo tossed his book gently onto the bed and dashed off to his bathroom with a slight waddle to his stride. The water ran but it was several longer minutes than it needed to be to wash one's face before the nobleman returned looking more poised.
"Did you have a good start to your day?"
"Yeah. Sorry. I didn't mean to just — you, erm — do what you've got to."
He watched Theo make his hasty retreat, grimacing at how much of a fuck-awful tease he'd just been. "Sorry, love," he said again to nobody. Still, he wouldn't deny that it had bolstered his confidence. Theo hadn't been lying. He did want this. Or...maybe the book had just gotten him worked up. Who knew, really.
Fletch sighed and leaned against the door, arms crossed and eye aimed pointedly away from the screen. They were both so drunk on this thing that neither of them was thinking clearly, and it could have just spelled the end of their affair. They had to be more careful. Maybe he shouldn't be in this room at all without a chaperone, like they were a couple of handsy teens and not men bordering on middle-aged.
When Theo re-emerged, he seemed to have calmed himself, though his question made Fletcher laugh a little. "I have now," he joked exasperatedly as he flailed his arms and let them fall to his sides. "Went clock shopping in town. Fuck all else, though. Enjoying your book?"
"Any luck with that?" Theo grimaced and shook his head in disapproval. "It's something to pass the time. Plot-wise it has a lot of issues. Content-wise mm, they do a lot of physically impossible things that definitely ruin the escapism of it all. This author is always a bit hit or miss. Some books are passable and some are just pitfall trap after pitfall trap. I'm still not entirely sure how I feel about this one. The changing of my guard is certainly a much lucky and desired distraction."
Fletch grunted. "Oh. I mean — how good's the writing got to be, really? Both of 'em had their bits in the right places." He shrugged the thought off, wary of tempting anything else from Theo until well after dark. "Well...anyway. You seemed happy from where I was sitting. It was nice. I like seeing you like that. Tell me how to be less of a distraction, though, love, or we'll both be in a heap of trouble before we know it."
Theo grunted with a grimace. "I'd like the writing to be better when it's my only form of entertainment. But, I suppose I can see your point."
He bent and replaced his shoes as well as shrugged on an outer robe to reduce the temptation for Fletcher. "Do you have a type of book you like then? Or hobbies you used to engage in that you don't here?"
"Nothing you haven't seen," Fletch said. "Besides cards, maybe. I tried picking up a banjo years ago, too. That didn't pan out. I don't really read. ...Used to write, back when I thought a memoir was important. I think it all burned down with the cabin. Either way I'm a shit writer," he snorted. "You really asking a drunk and a rake his hobbies to keep us from messing around, though?"
"No, I'm not," he replied, lowering his voice. "I'm asking the man I care about his interests so that I may get to know him better. The drunk and the rake I do not believe are the entirety or main personalities and interests of my beloved bodyguard. But you may correct me if I'm wrong."
Theo sat down in his chair by the fire and looked to Fletcher expectantly. "Or do you know everything there is to know of me and I've fallen woefully behind?"
Fletch set his hands to his hips. Something about this rubbed him the wrong way, but he was hard pressed to find exactly what it was. It just seemed like such a...strange question. Because it was from someone who hadn't really lived, he realized, and then it all came together. He sighed and joined the man by the fire, legs spread wide as he leaned back. The way he regarded Theo was a bit like a challenge. "I don't. You can fix that by telling me, you know. As for me: I'll be plain. Not all of us have the luxury of sitting around all day being served. Until recently, I certainly didn't know life could be like this. I worked hard every damned day, mind. And if you don't know what that's like, I can't really explain to you why my outlets are women, and drink, and fighting, and gambling, can I? Hobbies are for the bored. Boredom is for nobles. The rest of us survive and we find small pleasures where we can. So ask me about my work instead, I suppose. Or my life. Hobbies aren't a part of it."
Theo hummed softly. "Right." He felt like a fool. Of course his privileged self had hardly endured hardship in comparison to the other man. He was not the one covered in scars that spoke of horrors like Fletcher was. He kicked himself for being so naive and out of touch with things.
"Sorry," he muttered. "That was stupid you're right." Theo sighed and for several moments stared quietly into the fire. "What's it like living at sea?"
His face fell. He'd been harsh in making his point, and now there was something hanging between them yet again. "You couldn't have known," he said gently as Theo looked back from the fire to read him. "It's...cramped. Smelly, on account of the latrine pots and however many unwashed wankers you've got sailing with you. Always rats in the bilge, like a fact of life. The food's terrible on longer voyages, as I'm sure you can imagine. If you're lucky, like me, you're the captain's son and you get your own cabin. If not, you sleep in the hold with the other men. Which...isn't what your books would make it out to be, mind. There's no privacy and there's always some arsehole who's either sick or snoring or he's farting up a storm down there.
The rest of it's two things: hard work, and danger. When I say I don't want to start from the bottom again, what I mean is I probably can't at my age. It's back-breaking. There's always something to be doing. And if that something is climbing a mast during a storm, you're fucked no matter how strong you are. I seen a lot of men die senselessly. I seen more lose a leg or a finger to being thrown or crushed or falling from a height. And this was even on Dad's ship, where it was run like a damned machine meant to minimize losses to his business. The smugglers were ruthless."
He paused, gauging Theo's feelings on it all. His expression softened again as he took the man in. "To me, it was a cage, and I'll always look at it that way in some respect. To you, it might very well be freedom. So...come with me sometime. See it for yourself. Don't take the word of some old bastard and leave it at that."
He listened intently, nodding along in understanding. "Aye, I've seen my father's ledgers back when I was still meant to be his heir. The supplies to support the journey there and back, the insurances for injuries, the routes and times of year that are best for each and what that means for cargo changeovers. None of that of course is something you can experience through paper but we've suffered damages enough time to squalls to imagine the true horrors."
Theo offered a small sympathetic smile and shook his head. "I know my books are just fantasy. They're a good escape but nowhere near reality I know, it's okay. Don't need to let me down gently on that one. As for sailing...it's your cage. I can't in good conscience place you back in it just to be free of mine...traveling could be fun though. Maybe one day..."
Fletch chuckled at the thought of Theo roughing it. "That much I can do. Traveling, I mean. Got so bloody used to it." He tilted his head to the side just a little, considering whether or not to go on. "Would it bother you if I talked about him some?"
"Not at all," he replied easily. "I'm just respect our promise not to pry. But, he was a major part of your life. It's natural to have stories to share."
He eased back in his chair to slouch and stretched his long legs out in front of him and crossed them at the ankle. "Speaking of that promise though. It's alright with me if you pry. I want you to know me."
Fletch hesitated and picked at the arm of the chair. He thought of the beauty he'd seen in that quiet moment — of Theo lounging and reading, oblivious to the world around him. Of Theo's kindness, his warmth, his stubbornness, his grief. The quiet intensity returned to his gaze: his unrealized longing to touch this man's soul. "I want to know you, too, love," he said. "For all my talk, I'm just shit at knowing what to ask. But if I have questions, I suppose I'll know to ask them, now."
He went quiet for a while after that, gazing into the fire and ruminating. He really hadn't been the best to Theo in that regard, had he? It probably looked at this point like all he wanted from the man was his body. He'd just never had to ask. People told him or they didn't. If they didn't, then it wasn't his business. But for Theo, he'd find things to ask, if only for the man to be seen.
"I feel like a right arse," Fletch chuckled at last. "Always talking, never asking. No wonder you think I'm a bastard."
He shrugged, unbothered by Fletcher's apology. It had never been an issue for him. But his shoulders dropped some and he had the good grace to look embarrassed.
"Sorry, that's not exactly a great term of endearment now is it. Don't really think that one through and how it would make you feel. I like seeing you talk. I like knowing your stories and imagining the things you've done or understanding the things you're passionate about or against. I just don't have as many stories. I don't think you're a bad or horrible person though...just for the record. Just a rogue and a smuggler who has stolen something very special to me of late," he added with a fond smile.
His chuckle became a hearty laugh, though when he spoke, it was still carefully quiet enough to stay between the two of them. "No, no. I wear that one as a badge of honor. I am a bastard, and proud of it. And I'm your bastard, and I like the sound of that. So don't stop calling me for what you see. Be a shame to never hear it out of your pretty mouth again."
Fletch grimaced after he'd said it. "Sorry," he added sheepishly. "It's hard not to be a relentless flirt around you now that I'm allowed. But I'll be good."
His reassurance made Theo beam, his eyes crinkling with joy. "You are my bastard man, yes. But," he paused and looked around towards the door and placed one boot flat on the floor to see if he could sense any vibrations of people moving.
"If it is not too torturous for you and it is just the two of us...I see no reason not to flirt. If you're that concerned can always practice your signing.~"
"Heh. Yeah, that's...not what I'm concerned with, love," he said, lowering his voice until it was barely above a whisper. "I almost broke on the spot, earlier. I'm hanging on by a thread as it is. I don't want to be the reason that happens again." He chuckled and grinned in spite of the danger of it. Then he had a thought of a very different nature. "You know. One thing I've never asked you at all: do you like signing better? I'm shit at it, obviously, but...do you want that? When we're alone?"
"Oooooh," Theo mouthed without making a sound. The next words out of Fletcher's mouth however caught the nobleman completely by surprise. Before he even realized what was happening, Theo was overcome with deep emotion and burst into tears on the spot. He covered his mouth as they came pouring down his face and he laughed wetly.
"I don't think anyone's ever asked me that before," he explained, trying to fan at his face some and wipe the tears away aggressively. "And I realize now I'm such a rude cur. I've never once asked what your home language is or where you're originally from. I mean I suspect given what you've mentioned of rebellion and other things but...I'm so sorry."
Pulling himself together he continued. "Umm, I think I'd prefer sign, it's definitely a lot easier for me but I understand it has limitations and I don't require it if you at all. I—what you did the other night...that I would like again. Maybe. If you wanted. Don't have to though."
Fletch sat up straight, a panic at this sudden and alarming shift in his love's demeanor. "No — wait — I didn't mean to make you — " He relaxed somewhat, though, as Theo began to laugh, and his concern melted into relief. Well, and more concern, because he really was incredibly shit at signing. The number of times he'd gotten himself into trouble with it in Adela were too many to count. Maybe he was a smooth bastard in other matters, but in this one, he was horribly clumsy. "Alright. I did warn you I'm shit, though," he signed. "You've got to tell me when I fuck it up, yeah? Or just laugh at me. I'll get the message."
He tilted his head, looking Theo up and down and arching an eyebrow. "Besides, it's easier to be rude this way. And make you flustered. So I'm not about to complain," he added with a little smirk. "And I'm sure we'll be plenty close enough tonight for you to hear me again."
Fletch frowned and looked off to the side, his mind drifting to what Theo had asked. His lips parted habitually, and he began to speak aloud for a few seconds before realizing what he was doing. "Sorry. Love the sound of my own voice, it seems," he said before switching back. "It's been Trade most of my life on account of the business. It was Trade on the Mirabel. Trade in ports. Mum and the girls and I spoke a little of our own tongue, you know, but it's been so long. I almost can't remember. Only other ones I've picked up, really, are sort of useless outside of I'káa. I can speak Ven's tongue with Big Guy, but the rest of their people are dead, and Eln sort of just points, grunts, and hits things. And both of them have told me I'm shit at that one, too, so..."
He shrugged, smiling his charming smile. "Can't be good at everything, I suppose," he said aloud.
He grinned and then blushed. "You are shockingly modest," he teased. "Not all signs are perfectly safe for public company. You'll have to get creative when you start describing your—," he glanced down at Fletcher's crotch and smirked with a deeper blush.
"You don't have to sign, it's alright. I like the sound of your voice too. Just it's nice when you do sign too. It's like a secret hug.
"...would you want to teach me any of them? Something for us? Something I can learn for you?"
"Yeah, well...I imagine we'd speak amongst company, anyway. The wrong person might see this as too much of a kindness from your jailor. And I really don't want the girl knowing how much I know, if we can help it. Or Neal. Going to play stupid and grumpy with them for as long as I can."
He stopped as Theo gave him the most pointed look he thought he'd ever received from the man. A breathy laugh escaped him and broke the silence. "You're a bit saucy today, aren't you?" he murmured, basking in the attention. "You going to be this worked up all day? I'm not bothered by it, mind. It's nice to see you get a little bold."
Fletch rubbed at his chin, considering Theo's request. As he did, some of that spark left him, and he grew distant. "Mine? Or his?" he signed.
Theo look bashfully back at Fletcher but wiggled his brows slightly then hid his face in his hands. "I have a reason to be, no?"
"Both? Either? What makes you happy. If I'm to meet your brother-in-law one day though perhaps I should try to earn some respect points?
"Do you really hear EVERYTHING in here?"
"...Oh." Whatever tension had flitted across his features eased considerably. "Suppose that makes sense. We'd have to do it out loud, though. The practicing. And again, I'm shit at it, and I've already got enough of an accent with it that he looks at me like I'm a crayon short of the box, so...I may not be doing you any favors. But I remember enough of how the old man used to say things that maybe we can make it work, yeah. I've gone and started talking aloud again," he realized, and switched back to sign. "It depends on where you're at in the room. Bed, yes. Fireplace, yes. Washroom gets tough to hear. I can hear you walking and pacing clear as day. Shit way to build a house, if you ask me."
Fletch squinted suspiciously. "Why?"
His eyes shifted back and forth as he signed. "There has been a lot of wind breaking I thought I was much safer in breaking."
Theo tilted his head and rubbed at his scalp in thought. "Nanny room I imagine. Know when the baby or child is crying or up to no good. More upset—" he stopped abruptly and waved his hand as if flicking the thought away.
"Teach me ship words then. Aft and starboard and port—I know them but not what they mean really. All the different parts or why you raise and lower sails."
Fletch snorted. "I've just told you how bad it is sleeping in the hold. You know I don't give a damn about that. You really want to learn this? I can go grab that book from the piano room if you do. It's easier with a picture."
"Embarrassed."
"You don't have to right now if you'd rather stay. I would like to learn one day though. Mane I should just read the book on my own time. Not bother you."
"How are you feeling today? Today is a good day?"
"It's no bother. Might be fun. You're right, though. Maybe that's a thing for when we're bored. A safe thing for when we might be overheard."
His mouth opened slightly at Theo's question. He wrestled with the idea of answering it truthfully. How was he today? Theo was fully aware of how he was: one touch shy of snapping and pushing the man up against a wall. For once, he knew that Theo felt the same, and that somehow made it even worse. He exhaled slowly, wishing he wasn't such a weak man to this powerful force between them. "Wanting you. Badly," he signed. "Maybe we shouldn't be in here together."
"Is it too cold for a walk? I'd suggest sparring but I think that would make things worse," he giggled. "But if you need to excuse yourself I understand. I can go back to reading until dinner."
"Yeah, we'll see who's laughing about it later," Fletch shot back with an indignant jut of the chin. "But, no...cold's a good idea. And you know it's bad if I've said it. No bollocks left to use if they freeze off, right?" He sighed, shook his head, and rose gingerly to his feet. "This is madness," he muttered, more to himself than to Theo, though he did glance over at the man as he said it, expression a strange mingling of exasperation and lovesickness. "Absolute madness. You, er, want to come with? Or stay here?"
"We already know how good you are at getting me flat on my back, yes. I still have much in the way of balance and footwork to go. I can only imagine my horror and your amusement should I ever end up on a ship at sea. You can just peel me off the floor when we make port."
He got to his feet and made to brush imaginary dust and wrinkles out of his clothes. "Would you like to walk alone or is the company welcome? I don't wish to...irritate, you further."
Fletcher's eyebrows raised, his left peeking above the eyepatch. He shoved his hands in his pockets and graced Theo with a lengthy stare. "Yes you do, you little shit," he muttered at last. "You're welcome to join if you like. Could go see the dog, I suppose, or walk the perimeter. ...Anything but this," he added with a soft laugh.
His eyes lit up at the mention of Aya but Theo wisely kept from commenting too much and risking upsetting Fletcher over his late husband's dog. "Come along then. I'll nick some sugar cubes for the horses too. I'm sure they're going just as stir crazy as we are without all the trips to town. If you're sky maybe you can abscond with one of Kenna's mugs and some coffee too keep warm outside too?"
"Oh, you wound me, sir," Fletch said as they stepped out of the room. "'Course I can steal a fucking mug." He allowed Theo to lead the way and assumed his usual stiff posture, hands behind his back and expression stoic. He'd both wanted and not wanted the nobleman to join him. He couldn't get enough of the man's company, it was true. The only time he'd ever say no to it was if he'd been put so out of sorts by the day's events that he needed his space. But it was going to be a harder crawl back out of the depths he'd let himself succumb to, that was for damned sure.
As they stepped into the kitchen, he circled back around towards the kettle and got it started. "Afternoon," he greeted Kenna with what he hoped was his winningest smile.
Kenna eyed Fletcher with deep suspicion and pointed her knife warningly at him. "I'll be havin' none of ye mischief today, Young Jack. I got baking' ta do and her Ladyship changed the Yule party menu again af'r I jus' placed me order wit' da butcher. I now have to figure out how to turn a suckling pig inta a goose—eh! None of those sad eyes Mister Theodore. I'll make it work. I always do."
Theo grimaced all the same giving Fletcher a displeased look over his mother's inconsiderate nature when Aneisha popped in from outside looking decidedly rosy-cheeked and bright eyed.
"Good afternoon, Teddy, Jack, Miss Kenna~" she chirped with an obvious bounce in her step. She flitted about the room, humming softly as she went about her chores and grinning such a cheerful grin that even Theodore watched her in surprise.
"You hear that?" Fletch interjected. "She called me young." He ignored Kenna's knife as he always did. The day she actually used it on him was the day he ate his boots for breakfast. He did, however, turn and deliver Aneisha a suspicious little look that quickly settled into something a bit more dangerous. "Who's the boy, Neish?" he asked.
"Hmm?" The young woman sounded as she brushed past him gracefully to grab a spoon. Aneisha continued to hum and spin through the kitchen, flitting from one spot to the next in a kind of giddy absent-mindedness that gave Theo pause.
Was this what he looked like since accepting not only his love for Fletcher but also being confessed to by the same man? Was he so obvious that anyone with eyes could see he was in love? And as Fletcher had asked...who WAS the boy that had the scullery maid who was a hair width away from bursting into song at any moment.
He felt exhausted already from the possibilities but was far from above using the current uncertainty and curiosity as an excuse to look for treats.
"You deaf too, now?" Fletcher muttered. He shook his head, growing more and more serious by the second. He thought of Zoey, and the number of times he'd had to fight off her suitors when she clearly wasn't old enough for them. But she'd been eleven, and Neish wasn't so young. She was grown enough, as Theo had reminded him long ago. And he could no more scare off every boy interested in her than he could control the weather. The tension in his shoulders eased. "Well. He tries anything, you know where to find me," he relented, sounding a bit resigned to the idea that he wouldn't in fact be out brawling with some young upstart anytime soon. With one final shake of the head, he turned back to make his coffee.
"He who?" Aneisha asked with a deeply questioning face. "And why is he trying anything? And why do you look so grumpy? Aren't you excited Yule's almost here?"
Oblivious to the conversation at hand, Theo managed to pluck up a couple of carrots that he stuffed into his clothes and a handful of sugar cubes. He was just going for a strip of dried meat when Kenna's all knowing spoon smacked him lightly on the knuckles.
"None of that. I won't have you spoiling that dog with the choice kitchen scraps. And the carrots come on. Hand them over."
Theo pouted but handed over both carrots but the moment her back was turned he grinned knowing he has managed to keep what he was truly after.
Fletch chuckled. "Hey, you keep your secrets and I'll keep mine," he replied cryptically. "I've got you something good for Yule, though, don't you worry. So I'd better still be your number one man." As Kenna rounded on Theo, he took advantage of the distraction and quickly finished pouring his coffee. He held the mug by his side and out of her sight, though Neish got a front row seat to his tomfoolery. "Well, got to be moving on. Busy day and all. See you," he called, and before the cook could even register what was happening, he'd darted out the back and onto the grounds, coffee splashing out of the cup and onto the floor.
He waited until Theo emerged, clutching his prize and grinning like a fool. "Gives you a thrill, don't it?"
Aneisha gasped at hearing she was getting a present and moved in quickly to give Fletcher a hug. A cookie was dropped into his pocket as she did so with a wink as he filched the coffee cup.
Theodore meanwhile was looking every bit like the cat that ate the canary as he was chased out after Fletcher. Only once they were further along did he reach into his pocket to reveal the sugar. "All according to plan.~ Too worried about the carrots to worry about the real prize," he beamed with pride.
The look he gave Theo shifted into one of admiration. "You're quite good at that," he replied as they headed off for the stables. As he spoke, he walked backwards so that Theo could read him better...and maybe so that he could look at the man, too. "I still think you'd be a good spy. And a good sneak. Maybe we should pull more heists together. Bit of practice, you know?" Fletcher laughed at the thought, high on even the slightest of mischief. Then the breeze picked up, and he winced. "Fuck me, it's freezing. Guess I did ask for it. Come on. Let's get to the stables."
"No one suspects the deaf fop," he replied with an impish wink. Fletcher's complaints were met with a deepening smirk and Theo signing 'later~' at him.
He scuttled into the barn quickly and was greeted by a much calmer Aya than months previous. "Hello beautiful," he cooed at her, rubbing his nose and face into her fur as he scratched her neck and cheeks.
"So what do you think is up with Aneisha?"
Fletcher shot the nobleman a dark and warning glance before following him into the stables. He craned his neck. "Huh. Wonder where Dewey's gone off to?" he muttered to himself. He'd been hoping that they weren't alone. At the moment, alone felt dangerous. He stood a ways back, watching Theo and the dog, both hands pressed to the warm mug as he huddled over it. "Oh, she's got herself a boy, I'm dead sure of it," he growled. "She just hasn't figured that out yet, apparently. He'd best be her age for his sake, that's all I'll say."
"You think?" He asked getting to his feet and moving further away from the bodyguard in order to spoil the horses. "I mean I know she's growing up but..." he shook his head and rubbed Maple's nose. "I was really hoping it's the time of year.
"Mm! That reminds me I need to send some letters tonight to place some orders for the staff or it's going to be a very sad for you all. I don't know what's worse: Mother or the endless holiday parties to attend."
"I do think. No one's that fucking chipper about Yule. And she's young. They feel it different, you know." Fletch frowned, shrugged, and sipped on his coffee. "Is that how you usually do it? Ordering for the staff? I figured we just scraped it together and made our own fun. I don't think your bodyguards will all be there, though. One of us has got to follow you to whatever holiday nonsense your mum's got planned. Unless your dad's really feeling in the giving spirit," he snorted. "What's the damage, anyway? How bad'll it be? The Obower clan have you over, you have them over...?"
Theo shrugged. His own experiences were so different that he couldn't really comment on how true or not Fletcher's words were. However, when he realized he had let Fletcher in on his own secret tradition, he blushed and looked away embarrassed.
"Well I mean they do their own celebrating of course and they all try to have gifts for each other. My parents give the majority of them Yule Eve off and Yule morning. Kenna and Olivier will likely still work extra but the rest of you can at least enjoy it. I always purchase a barrel of drink for their festive and some small useless gift for each of them. It's stupid and not much I know," he muttered with an embarrassed shrug. "They don't know any of it comes from me except Kenna who helps me with it. Sorry to spoil the magic for you I guess."
He kicked over an empty bucket and sat down on it in thought while Gin and Tonic swarmed at his feet for head pets. "It's a relentless mess of rapidly increasing parties until as it gets closer it's one or even two a night. The closer to Yule yours is, the higher standing in the community you have. If the forces that be are with me I can take ill with plague and avoid the majority of them from the comfort of my bed. Everyone just constantly drunk and loud and merry. It just all feels so...fake."
"Oh, I'm not fussed," Fletch snorted as he leaned back against a beam. "I'll keep your secret, Father Yule. No need to worry." He sneered at Theo's description of holiday noble antics, tutting and shaking his head. "Regent's holy ballsack. Your people are something else entirely. Yeah, because it is fake. Bloody exhausting, honestly. I'll take real and penniless over that any day. I don't envy you it, I really don't." He thought on what he'd just said and chuckled to himself. "Who'd have thought I'd be saying a thing like that?"
Her source of attention gone, Aya approached him and shoved her nose between his knees, wagging her tail and waiting expectantly for a pet. "Hey, girl," he murmured, and bent to scratch her behind her ear. "Dewey's done you good, hasn't he, fleabag? Maybe you're his, now, ey?" He was surprised to find himself engaging with her at all. He'd been so adamant about avoiding reminders of Ven as midwinter drew near, and yet here he was, and it didn't sting half as much as he'd expected. Theo's presence in his life, it seemed, had soothed a lot of wounds. He wondered if the man saw it.
"Hmm." Fletcher rose and leaned back against the beam again, still nursing his coffee. "You know...I think there are herbs to make you sick. Like, undeniably ill. For kids who eat what they shouldn't have eaten, right? I know there's one that's in and out of you in an hour, tops, too. So if we get the right one, maybe you can skip the parties whenever you feel like it. And then I'd have to skip the parties, too."
He kept his mouth shut and had to dip his head to hide the surprised brow raise he gave the other man to see him almost fawning over Aya. All the months Theo had known Fletcher not once had he spoken in anything less than exasperation towards the dog he felt obligated but not attached to caring for.
"Too sick and they'll stay home and send for the healer. Not sick enough and I'm dragged along with a hovering mother. Besides somehow I don't think 'why yes I just destroyed my insides, let's have fun now,' sounds as inviting in reality. This of course paired with that kind of repeated illness can't be good for my actual health. It was worth a thought though I suppose," he added hurriedly realizing how it must have sounded shutting down the person actually trying to help him.
Fletch grunted. "This is why he was the healer and I wasn't," he replied. "Potions and poisons and herbs were never my forte. I can just hear him dressing me down over the ten different ways I could have accidentally killed a patient with this kind of talk. Least you do it tactfully." He took another sip, out of sorts at the idea that so much was happening all at once without any room to breathe. "I guess neither of us are getting out of it easy, are we?"
Theo shook his head. "I only know better because I've tried before. Elijah was the caretaker, not me. I don't know much of anything in that regard so don't beat yourself up too much. At least you can escape some of them and send the others. Maybe get yourself up to mischief finding out who Aneisha's new mystery man is."
He frowned. "Much as I want to argue, it's probably best to keep the regular rotation, isn't it? For everything. Parties included. And what's that about? You've changed your mind on her now that the threat's real? Last time I tried to protect her, I seem to remember a certain nobleman telling me off for it. Saying she won't be young forever."
"There's a difference between a man I know and a man I don't. Besides," he said thickly, looking completely downtrodden, "that was said before I came to the stark reality of not knowing people like I thought I do."
He rested his head back against one of the stalls and closed his eyes. "Tease Aneisha about her new boyfriend or not, at the end of the day it's not any of my business I suppose. Best I don't make more of a mess of things."
"Aneisha has a boyfriend?" Dewey stood behind Fletcher looking pale and like he had been punched in the stomach.
Fletch jumped a little and turned to regard Dewey with more severity than he'd actually intended. "Dewey. Fuck, mate. Don't sneak up on a man's blind side like that," he complained. "Was wondering where you'd gone off to." He squinted, looking the man over, his brow settling low with suspicion. He'd sounded shocked at the news. A little too upset, in Fletcher's opinion, to not be invested in the answer. "I'm not really in the habit of gossip. Just trying to look out for her, that's all. So what's it to you, then?"
Theo opened his eyes a moment later and was equally surprised to see Fletcher telling Dewey off. He ducked his head in amusement, knowing very well why poor Dewey was interested in Aneisha's love life while also feeling bad for being the one to bring it to his attention.
"...nothing," Dewey replied. "If she is happy and safe then it is none of my business. Her choices are her own and should be hers alone." He looked to Fletcher pointedly as if daring the older man to interfere.
Fletch tilted his head in the slightest challenge. When he spoke, he was quiet, and his voice had gone silken. "Oh, absolutely," he said. "Her decisions are her own. I'm just here to see that whoever it is, he treats her like a queen. Because if he doesn't...well." He shrugged. Took his time with another sip of coffee. Smiled the sort of smile that sent chills. "Then it is my business."
For all of his gentle, quiet nature Dewey surprisingly held his ground against Fletcher's more feral display. There was a reason this quiet young man was master of the stables despite his age and seeming lack of experience: he knew how to handle every matter of beast with utmost respect and caution. Fletcher was no different. He was not about to back down to the other man's threat display.
"She is not my queen so your words are an ill-placed posturing. While it would be my honor to worship on bender knee for I am no king and could never cage her spirit, Aneisha clearly has no interest in me. If there is a lucky man, I assure you it is not me. I have not seen her today and am not the cause of her smiles. See though that you are not in turn the cause of her tears Mr. Jack."
Fletch stood, one hand on his hip and the other holding the mug, and stared in silence for a few seconds after Dewey had finished. Then, with a loud, rude snort, a genuine laugh burst from him. "No wonder the dog listens to you," he grinned, taking another sip. "I like you, Dewey. You're a good one. Tell you what. I make her cry, you get a free shot to break my nose. Because that's the last thing I want to do to Neish, mate, and I think you know it perfectly well. I'm not coming in here to control her. I'm seeing that she isn't taken advantage of the way I seen with my sisters. Alright?"
"She is listened to. That is the difference." Dewey broke Fletcher's gaze now that the worst was over and moved to collect the feed bucket.
"It sounds to me Aneisha is lucky to have you then, Mr. Jack. Was there anything you were needing in here, sirs?"
Fletcher sighed and rolled his eye as Dewey went about his work like he suddenly wasn't worth the bother. He stole a glance at Theo — something he'd been avoiding in Dewey's presence. "Just some fresh air. Should probably be heading in, though, ey? So there's time to wash up before dinner."
Theo scowled at the mention of going in but dragged himself to his feet all the same. "I wish winters weren't so long. I miss riding in the field in spring."
"You'd have an easier time riding if you weren't fattening all the horses up with sugar cubes, Mr. Theodore," Dewey piped up without missing a beat.
The nobleman looked quite embarrassed as he relinquished what was left of the sugar into the other man's waiting hand. "For what it's worth Dewey, she also has choice taken from her when she is kept from knowing it existed in the first place. Just food for thought.
"Let's go Mr. Daw. You look about ready to turn into an icicle."
"Already one," he muttered. "It's done wonders for my condition, though, I'll say that much." With a nod to Dewey and a parting glance at Aya, Fletch followed Theo out of the stable and back into the brisk breeze. "Why even live here?" he grumbled. "Horrid." Coughing into his sleeve and staving the chill off with the dregs of his lukewarm coffee, he stomped along until they reached the servant's entrance once again, where he deposited his empty mug and dodged a whack to the head from Kenna for his thievery. Then it was time to go back up again.
The cold had sobered him, and Dewey had sobered him even more. It was good that they'd accomplished what they'd set out to do. Still, there was a pit in his stomach at how he and Dewey had butted heads. In his want to protect another sister, he'd been too harsh on the young man. The man had held his own, but it wasn't an excuse on Fletcher's part to insinuate a threat to him. He sighed as he passed Theo's door by in favor of his own, deep in thought and shaking his head at his own behavior.
"Because the sea is pretty and not all of us are brave enough to ride her waves or swim her shores. We can only stare at her from open windows," Theo waxed poetically back. He stamped his feet at the entrance to the kitchen and wisely dodged Aneisha's attempt to pounce on him.
Fletcher's cough still seemed to linger and it was beginning to worry him. It was possible the cold air was just a shock to his system but Theo wondered if the man was hiding he had a cold for one reason or another. He made a mental note to add cough-easing tonic to his list of upcoming purchase requests. In his mind at least one of them could be comfortable.
He hardly noticed when Fletcher passed by and went into his own room. And when he did realize he thought little of it given the man's earlier struggle with keeping composure. Theo instead got himself changed and ready for dinner as was expected of him and took to sitting by the dwindling fire while he waited to be summoned.
The next few hours passed by achingly slow. At first he didn't mind it. The distance helped. He had himself a drink, and washed up, and went to dinner in the kitchen. When he saw Dewey, though, he went quiet, and for much of the meal he found himself preoccupied with thoughts of how he'd treated the man. He really was a bulldog at times: latching on with a locked jaw and the intent to kill. If Dewey really did have a thing for Neish, he seemed a good enough man, and Fletch wouldn't stand in his way. Or in the way of her happiness, as Dewey had insinuated he would.
By the time dinner was over, and he laid down on his bed, he was positively morose. He went over the day's events again. This time, though, his thoughts caught on something different: Theo standing all too close, their fingers brushing against one another as their breath mingled. The forbiddenness of it. The danger. His eye snapped open and he huffed, shoving it aside. There was no sense in torturing himself with the thought. Yet it crept back, and he found his imagination wandering to what it could have been if he'd just...let himself...snap.
Theo tried to read in his room but his thoughts were constantly filled with Fletcher. He could not wait for evening to come when he could crawl back into the man's arms again and maybe finally sleep there until dawn. They still needed to rest of course that the candles would wake Fletcher up given that Theo had no chance whatsoever of being any help in that department.
It was a great relief when dinner was finally over and he no longer had to posture and remain neutral in front of his parents. This season certainly always brought out the worst in his mother and he just wasn't up for dealing with her. The slow, torturous walk back to his room was years rather than minutes it felt like until at last he was peacefully and safely alone again. He cleaned up and changed, making sure he was squeaky clean before quietly calling out to the next room.
"May I please come over or would you rather have some peace tonight? It's okay if you'd rather be alone."
Theo's voice jolted him from his fantasies, and he scowled. And then he wondered why the very man he'd been thinking about had just now irritated him by existing and having wants of his own. He lay there quietly for a minute as he untangled it. Only when he'd sorted it out and gotten his head on straight did he swing his legs over the bed and rise to his feet.
He popped the nanny door open. This time, though, he swung it fully outward and leaned against the doorframe, blocking the way into his room. "I'm trying to be good, Theo, but I'm only going to say this once," he murmured, and then remembered himself and switched to signing. "If you're asking for something safe, you'd best stay in your own room tonight. Safe's not what's been on my mind."
He drank him in but politely kept his distance. Theo knew Fletcher had said his strength was tenuous and here again it was brought to light. The man was trying to respect Theo's wishes. The question though was what was enough for Fletcher?
Theo smiled softly to see him signing and quickly signed back. "What is considered safe? What is the point you can stop at? I..." he blushed but kept going, "am interested in what we discussed last night. In touching and...being touched. But, I am not ready for full intercourse still. If that is too much for you, I understand. I can wish you good night here. Either way I am glad to know your wants and respect your wishes."
Fletch stood up a little straighter. His lips parted and his eye flashed in undeniable hunger. "I can stop there," he insisted, his signing rapid and clumsy. "I won't push that on you. I won't hurt you. But I've a mind to show you just how much I want you, Theo."
Theo stepped in closer and dragged Fletcher into a hungry, passionate kiss. "Then show me what I've been missing all this time," he whispered against his lips. "I've wanted this all day."
He broke. Finally, he broke, and that fire in him surged into a raging and unquenchable thing. As he pulled Theo roughly into his room and kicked the door shut and tore at his love's tunic with desperate, grasping fingers, he thought that fever would consume the both of them. Before now, every kiss he'd imparted, every caress to Theo's cheek had been careful and controlled, as though he'd been afraid to break the man. But that caution was gone, now. He'd abandoned it the moment Theo had ignored his warning.
Somewhere along the way, he'd lost his eyepatch. And his shirt. And his trousers. At last, he dragged Theo into his bed in a wild tangle of wandering hands and passionate kisses and messed hair and hot breaths, and showed the man just what he'd been holding back.
It quickly became an overwhelming whirlwind of sensation and emotion for Theodore. Soft sounds he'd never made before easily escaped him, brushing Fletcher's skin wherever he could plant his lips. He felt as if his skin was on fire and he was drowning in an ocean of ecstasy with only Fletcher as his tether back to reality.
Theo bit his own wrist so hard it would surely bruise to keep himself quiet as he careened off the metaphorical cliff. And then he returned the favor.
It was late in the evening and he was an absolutely boneless heap by the time they were settled back into each other's arms. Theo didn't think he could move a muscle if he wanted to. "Is it—does it always feel like that?" He questioned in a somewhat deeper, and hoarse voice than usual. "I've never...that was..." Theo giggled uncontrollably having no words to explain but knowing Fletcher likely understood how he felt.
He lay there quiet for a long while, chest heaving and utterly spent. His mind was blank but for the impulse to evoke the three simple words that had fallen loose in their torrid passion. Because after all, he did love the man. Didn't he? He did. He'd fallen for Theo so wholly, so completely. It wasn't a trick of the mind. It wasn't the intensity of the moment, or the enticing danger in their affair. He'd thought he knew what love was before, but he truly had never felt quite like this in his life. And it had started months ago, too. At the night market. He'd realized then that he cared. He just...didn't know how much until now.
Fletch rolled to face Theo. The intensity of his fire had quelled to a gentle warmth, and an ever-present, sleepy little smile softened his features. As he basked in the man's presence, the depth of his infatuation couldn't have been more plain. "It's a little different every time," he said. "But...yeah. More or less. If you can't walk by the end of it, it means I've done my job. And if you can't talk, well..." He sought Theo's hand beneath the blankets, found it, and slipped their fingers together, seeking an altogether different entanglement. But whether it was his addled state or his hesitancy to say what he truly wanted to, his words didn't come easy to him. "Theo. That day in the market. When I knocked you over. And made the worst impression I could have possibly made. I...what were the chances, you know? What were the chances that I'd...that I'd found someone so damned beautiful?"
He squeezed his hand back, equally. "One hell of a meant to be, huh? The market. The job. The gods seemed to not want to take any chances it wouldn't come to this. I know I certainly wasn't looking for this. I was...adamant I would never feel this again. And then you had to go and be so...kind."
His eyes misted up as he turned his head enough to kiss Fletcher's chin. "Thank you. For all of it. For being kind. For taking care of me. Respecting me and my wishes. I know how hard that is. For being patient because I'm...so new to all this and shy. I don't know what I did to deserve you. But I'm grateful it was you."
"I...wasn't looking, either, love." He faded out for a moment, lost in thought, and wherever his mind took him left him just a little melancholy. "When you came along, I wasn't ready. I didn't think I'd ever be ready for it again, after...after how he went. Certainly not within a matter of a couple of years. You know?" He came back to the present suddenly and with an intense need to clarify, and he squeezed Theo's hand back with a steadying firmness. "But I was wrong. I am. I want this. Wherever it leads, I want this."
Fletch looked more and more concerned as Theo thanked him. "Theo, that's...that's how it's supposed to go. These aren't special things I'm doing. It's basic decency. You're the same with me. Anyways, I...had a lot of practice being good and waiting...for a very long time, love, so...it's just how this has to be. You say stop, I stop."
He petted his lover's face, loving the feel of stubble beneath his fingertips as he offered quiet reassurance. "I know. I swore off too and then in you came barreling into my life and I feel pulled like the current to your shore. No escape. And no desire to try."
Theo tilted his head though at the reassurance returned to him. Something Fletcher kept saying gave him pause. "You know you're not bad for having desires that do not match my own? Any more than if I had desires at a time you didn't I am not bad? We say stop, we stop no matter what stage."
He cupped the other man's chin and gave it a tweak. "I cannot imagine making you wait much longer. If this is how this feels...I could easily be made content under your mastery. Just...you know it is not because of you? It is entirely me. You are deeply attractive and charming and I feel safe with you. I know when I am ready it will be with you. And I've never imagined that before with anyone."
Fletch blinked like he'd been spoken to in another language. He shifted to prop himself up on one elbow. "Well, yeah. I mean...I suppose. I just know I can get a little wild is all." Even though Theo now had some idea of what he meant by it, he still looked sheepish at the thought. "Just trying not to scare you. As for the rest...it's not everyone's cup of tea. Certainly something I'd prefer not to be on the receiving end of, so...if you don't like it either, then you don't. We can set it aside. This right here was all I wanted: just not having to hold back for once. Just...telling you how much you drive me wild. The rest — it'll happen when it happens."
His tired and satisfied smile returned. "Speak for yourself. Do you know how bloody hard it is for me not to stare at you when I'm on the job? You're just so..." Fletch released Theo's hand and reached up to brush his fingers over the man's shoulder. There was no word powerful enough to do him any justice. "When you were reading today. I think I'll have that in my mind forever. Just you. No one else's expectations. Just...you. Happy. I'm...I...I'm so shit at this, Theo," he chuckled. "You're beautiful. You'd turn my head if you were a stranger. But I guess I'm trying to say that...the man I'm desperate for is the one I saw earlier."
"This...was you wild?" He grinned with a rarer seen confidence. "I enjoy your wild, my heart. We just must continue with care. I would not want to lose this with you because we got too greedy too fast."
Theo smoothed his hand over Fletcher's chest, feeling the man's heartbeat pulsing against his fingertips. "I find myself becoming that man the more I bask in your presence, the more I find a safe harbor in your embrace."
A sly grin curled his lips then as he pulled Fletcher in by the back of the neck for another kiss. "Did I not turn your head then when we first met?"
"Oh, no, I never said it was," he smirked as he drew away. "Just said I can be. We'll save wild for a day when it's just the two of us here. And I see you joking, Pretty Boy, but you did. I've been calling you that in my head since the first day I arrived. I've been trying to figure you out for just as long. So smoke on that, hmm?"
Fletch thought a little more on what he'd said. About being cautious. Not being too greedy. He craved Theo like a drug. The last thing he wanted was less of the man. His smile began to wilt. "What part of it's not careful, anyways?"
"I assumed it was an insult, that you called me it because I am noble and soft-handed without hardship. I did not think you actually meant it because you found me pretty. It is a welcome surprise that you do."
He made a soft concerned face and gave Fletcher's shoulder a squeeze. "I am the incautious one. I tease you and crave you and challenge you in broad daylight in public when I should not. Your eyes are not the only ones that linger. I will be good. We will make sure we do not get sloppy in our excitement to be close. That is all."
Theo settled back into the bed more and looked up at Fletcher curiously. "Have you figured me all out now? Or am I still your puzzle?"
Fletcher grumbled and came as close as he ever did to a pout. "But I like all that. I want all that. You know it's been ages since anyone's done that thing you do like you're imagining me without a shirt? At least be a little bad, won't you? When there's no one around but the two of us?"
He bit his lip as he gazed down at his love. "I can't wait for this to be over for you," he added quietly. "This is living. This, here. And I hate the thought of giving it up for the sake of being careful." He leaned down and planted a kiss on Theo's lips: a tender one that spoke of his hopes for the future. "Everyone's a puzzle," he replied as he drew away. "Everyone has secrets and inner workings that they keep close. You do. I do. So I'll never have you all figured out, no. But I've seen enough to know that anything else I learn about you will just make me love you more."
"As if I don't stare at you training with every available opportunity you adorable, perfect man. Do you know every time I look you up and down and imagine you as you are now, my heart begins to race and I feel suddenly flushed and weak-kneed? This is the effect you have on me, my Jack. I feel like I'm drowning in your ocean of radiance. And I am a willing victim. Never you fear that," he said with a small grin and another soothing kiss.
Theo kept his touches light and tender as he took in all of Fletcher's words. Giving things up and wanting things to be over so others could continue. A future. Their future. He hadn't really considered it until then. Wanted it of course. But it was a forbidden, hidden thing kept buried beneath the locked doors of his heart's vault. It was not a thing he dared dream of. But here was this amazing, beautiful man being so bold as to dream it for them both. A man who wanted to fall more in love with him. A man that like himself danced around saying the actual words but all the same all but screamed it for the stars to hear.
"...What is something you'd like to do together once this is all over and I'm no longer engaged?"
What didn't he want to do? He'd be lying if he said he hadn't imagined everything under the sun already. He tilted his head and frowned at the sudden realization that he'd been thinking of their future together. When had he ever done that before for anyone else? Every other time, even with Ven, he'd just taken what was given to him and lived in the moment and never allowed himself to want anything more.
"Sorry," he laughed as he came back to the present, to Theo waiting lovingly and expectantly. "I...just realized I've never had this conversation with anyone in my life. But you've got me thinking about things I've never really let myself want." What he didn't say was that a part of it scared him. How would he, free man and wanderer and rogue, cope with being locked down and tied to another's fate? Theo clearly didn't want him sleeping with anyone else. Was this going to feel like another prison? But that was for way down the road. That wasn't for now. He shook the thought from his mind and tried earnestly to answer.
"Let's see. When you're no longer engaged? Rub it in her face, of course. I'm not above kicking someone like that when they're down, and I think she needs a little humbling. After that...find a way to line this up so you're free when the bastard kicks it. After that, though...I think I want to see you how you were at the night market. I think I want to get into a little trouble together. And maybe show you why traveling isn't all it's cracked up to be," he added with another little laugh. "Can't tell you how done I was with sleeping on the ground after months of it. Hard to romanticize the notion when you wake up shivering and covered in bugs. But maybe that's a thing you should learn for yourself."
Theo smiled back. "I am...the same. I've never thought of anything outside of the cage in so long. It's...scary, I admit. But, with you it feels worth it. It feels possible to plan let alone dream. And I'd be lying if I didn't say I was terrified of it."
He stole another set of little kisses and hummed softly. "Do I even want to know how you'll rub it in her face? Or get my status as heir reinstated?" Tweaked Fletcher's chin but grinned tiredly all the same at him.
"I want to go to the beach at night with you. See the stars and listen to the waves until you're complaining about how cold you are. Come home and...warm you up."
Fletch smirked. "Good. Smart. Because it sounds fun and romantic until you've got sand going up your backside, let me tell you."
He thought on what he'd said about planning. "The first bit, maybe not. I know it's not wise. Maybe it's just me wanting to hurt what's hurt you. The status bit..." He shifted to prop himself up a little better. "My first thought is forgery. Manufacturing a scandal for — was it your cousin? But I think, when you're ready, I'll need you for it. I can do the dirty work, but you're the sharp one, here. You'd have to advise me. Otherwise it's me taking shots in the dark and messing everything up even worse. And...it's your life. You should call the shots on where this goes. And how much damage you want to risk, and to who."
He crinkled his nose and made such a face. "The beach does not require two moons either. I'm pale enough to be easily mistaken for one."
Theo quietly nodded to the rest, brain clearly turning the ideas over and over like rocks in a tumbler getting polished. When he did speak it was with great hesitancy and focus. He sat up on his elbow to face Fletcher better and give the man his full attention.
"But what if your life? Is partnered with a Baron really what you want? You don't like the noble life from what I've seen. Would you be Captain of your own ship? Would you stay here? I may make you happy—I want to make you happy, but what thing of substance will sustain you? You don't have to know yet anymore than I do but...something to think on I guess."
Fletcher's face fell, and his eye slid from Theo to the bed. It wasn't the first time he'd been asked this. The last time, he'd brushed it off. This time, he ruminated on it. But still he had no answers. "I don't know. I don't...I don't know."
He faded back into memory, head hanging lower and lower and his expression shifting subtly as he paged through year after year of his life. For most of it, he'd assumed he was destined for an untimely death. For the rest, he'd been preoccupied with someone else's. Had he ever truly known? Slowly, his gaze rose to meet the man's again. The afterglow had left him, now, and he was solemn as the grave.
"Love, you've got to understand that this is all new for me. I've never been asked what I want like this. It's always been survival. Just making it to the next day, trying to hurt people before they hurt me. No prospects, no future. And after that, it was fixing things. Watching...watching a man slowly cave in on himself and die. Being a shoulder for him. Even when he was gone, and I had the whole world, all I've done with it is be angry and hurt more people. That's how we met. That's why I knocked you over. That was me chasing a man with the intent to beat him. And this is the first time that it's ever felt like it could be any different. So...I think maybe I'll have to get there before I know what that is. If you'll have me until then."
Theo watched with his own heart hammering in his chest. He was so sure this was going to be a rejection, that he was going to be told he was a means to an end or that he was forever mean t to be a challenge, a tryst, and a secret. He hardened himself, braced and prepared for it.
So when Fletcher admitted his uncertainty rather than his damnation, Theo needed a moment to dip his head and collect himself. His beloved did not need him gushing and throwing himself at him in this moment. He needed his own reassurance that was gentle and soft and straight to the point. It took a moment to collect those words but when the nobleman raised his gaze it was filled with conviction.
"I am yours until I am no longer what you want. And I will wait as long as it takes for you to find what brings you peace, no matter how many different tries it takes to figure it out. I just want you to know I will not be the one to make you fight for survival each day...or bear the burden of my own happiness and path. I will not make myself into your cage, Jack. But, it's also okay to not know now, tomorrow, ten years from now. Just...promise to tell me when you know, even if I'm no longer part of it. That's all I ask of you."
"There you go doing that again," Fletch tutted at him. "So sure I'm going to get bored and up and leave you." He tilted his head up a little more and frowned at Theo as if to challenge the notion, eye darting back and forth between the man's. Then he shook his head resignedly and sighed, shifted, and sat up to slide off the bed. "Alright. Well. I need a smoke," he said as he began to dress himself. "Just the balcony. Won't be long."
Theo rolled his eyes ever so slightly and shook his head but didn't argue further. He did believe Fletcher would stay. He just also understood people can change over time and was trying to give the man freedom from him if it was needed. Only a caged man could understand the burden of being locked in place with nowhere to run. Far be it from him to do the same to another.
Still, he wordlessly climbed out of the bed after Fletcher and began to also put his clothes back on. Theo slipped out of Fletcher's room, into his own, and out onto the balcony after the other man. The lit cigarette was plucked away after the first drag and stolen for himself. He drew away with it, refusing to relinquish and settled into the corner furthest from Fletcher to give him some space. The bodyguard just wasn't the only one who required fire and smoke to calm thoughts and nerves both.
Fletch let him take it, though not without a defanged scowl. "You're a shit," he grunted, but a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he fished another smoke out and lit it. He leaned against the balcony and watched the man in silence, drinking him in, still bothered but clearly not bothered enough to stop looking. Finally, he balanced the cigarette between his lips and signed. "I'm not promising that. Don't make me say a thing like that. I know what I've got and I'm not losing it. Can't that be good enough?"
"I'm not allowed to know when you've found your path and happiness? You will not give me that? I decide to walk with you to share my life and you will not let me in?"
He huffed and threw his hands, taking several angry puffs that shrouded himself in a cloud of smoke. His hands shook as he rested them on the rail and clung tightly.
"You tell me to trust you will stay. I do. You protect me. You keep me safe. I trust it. Why am I not enough? Why am I not worthy of knowing when you do? I promise to wait and give you all the time you need and I cannot have this?"
Theo looked then to Fletcher, his face contorted in pain and frustration. "I am greedy. You were warned of this. Whether you like it or not. Whether you accept me or not. It is too late to change. I. Love. You," he signed in aggressive punctuated jerky motions with a furrowed brow. This was not how he wanted his love confession to go but his frustration won out over his romantic heart.
He could barely keep up with the man, and his shock at where this had suddenly gone meant that for a few seconds, he didn't even try to. Then he was stumbling over his own hurried answers, not even certain if the man read them.
"Theo, no. That's not what I said, and you know it — it has nothing to do with that, would you just listen for one second — would you just stop? Can we not fight about this?"
Fletcher groaned and ran a hand over his hair and rolled his eye and nearly missed it. But there it was: slow enough that he couldn't mistake what the man had said for anything else. He froze with his arm up and the cigarette hanging on for dear life to parted lips. He glanced from Theo's hands to his eyes. A thousand little wounds made their way to the surface as disbelief and anguish and regret and anger, and for that moment, he was every part of him that had never heard those words. He was the beaten child, the posturing young man, the broken older one. Why did it hurt so much to be told something beautiful, by someone beautiful? His mouth twisted as he fought it back for Theo's sake. He should have said something in return. He should have told him then. But it was all suddenly locked up tight behind the hurt, and his words left him altogether. His arm dropped to his side, and all he could give the man was that forlorn look of every painful and unfulfilled minute that had led to this moment.
He nodded. Yes, Fletcher had seen what he had thought he had seen. "I love you," Theo signed again, more gently. "Whether you say it back or not. Whether you feel it or not. Whether you are ready for it or not. This is how I feel."
Theo flicked the ash off the end of his cigarette and took another small pull. "I don't think this about whether I think you'll leave or not. It's about whether you think you can belong at my side while doing whatever it is that makes you happy. And instead of wanting to face it, you'd rather be my shadow and let me choose. And I care for you too much to allow you to make that same mistake.
"Because I love you, deeply and you have more than every right to be happy finally."
Fletcher shook his head slowly. Was it in disagreement? Was it in warning? He didn't know. Theo had thrown all of this at him so fast, and he hadn't been expecting it, and now the man had gone in for the kill, too, with something that hit dead center. Fletch took in a breath and let it out like a kettle under pressure. He remembered his cigarette and plucked it from his lips. "Would you just — would you stop complicating things — and putting words in my mouth — for one bloody minute? Can I just — can I just have a minute to think?"
He shook his head again and began to pace. "First: don't you dare pretend like you don't see it in every little fucking thing I do. I think you know exactly how I feel about you. It doesn't matter if I'm ready for it. We're here now. Second? Stop trying to twist this into some inevitable failure where I leave you. Just stop. What if I said the same thing to you, ey? What if, days into us doing something about this, I kept going on and on about you pushing me away ten years down the road because of the chance that I'm not what you want anymore? Yeah, it hurts, doesn't it? It's a shit thing to say. Stop saying it."
He stopped pacing. He shook his head again. He stared intensely and longingly across the balcony as he tried to form the words, but they still wouldn't come. So he popped the smoke back where it belonged and signed it instead. "Fuck you for making me say it like this. Fuck you, Theo. I love you, too. So fucking much."
Theo quieted and stilled as Fletcher verbally flailed o catch up and make sense of things. The man's reaction alone told him that he had struck true. There was the issue and they both knew it. Theo was terrified of being the cage. Fletcher was afraid of being free. What a pair the two of them made.
Yet, they had made it this far and that was likely further than either of them had ever gotten before. Perhaps they could go further still, together. Theo was willing to try and for all his warning hisses, it seemed like Fletcher was too.
And then there was the man's angry signing. It was very much a declaration not too different from Theo's own: said passionately and with deep feeling but not how either wanted and not in a moment of tenderness but strife.
"Later," he quipped tiredly and then extinguished the dregs of his cigarette. "I'm going back inside. Take your time."
He hesitated in the doorway and turned back slightly. "I know you're angry and upset with me. But I want you to know my sentiments have not changed. Neither of us are going anywhere without the other. And that's enough for me right now.
"...try not to stay out too long. You don't need to be catching a cold," he added more quietly before stepping back into his room and crawling into his own bed.
Theo left, and Fletcher stayed, watching the man go with an expression like he'd just been slapped. He felt like he'd been pulled in ten different directions, his seams tearing open, and Theo had found those wounds and dug in and split them open wider. Why say something like that just to leave? Why wait until Fletch had said it too, just to shut down and turn his back? Had he gotten what he'd wanted, and that was it? It felt like being used and left behind. It felt like Ven.
Well. It was all Fletch could take of that tonight. He finished his cigarette, ground it out on the railing, and headed in. He cast one brief glance at Theo that told the man just how raw and hurting he was and headed for the nanny door.
Theo sat up in bed staring ahead at the fire as a million thoughts swirled slowly through his head. He'd confessed at last how he felt. But it had been done in frustration and not sweetness as he had always dreamed. He had been confessed back to. But it had been done in anger and not tenderness as he had always hoped. He'd made this man the the loved above all else look at him in such pain and fear, had trod upon the space Fletcher had been seeking and inserted himself into to without care of the other man's wants. All his talk of respecting Fletcher's boundaries, wants, needs and then he'd gone and done that.
He picked anxiously at his nail beds, waiting and wondering what state his love would be in when he returned. Would he even speak to him? Would he just storm away and slam the door? Would he feel better? Worse? Would he come back to bed or call Theo to his? Would he retreat further into himself and drink himself tipsy again?
So wrapped up in his thoughts, Theo initially missed Fletcher's entrance through the balcony doors. He did however catch the look and sat up straighter. His mouth opened before he had time to think as he called out, hesitant and nervous but longing.
"Jack? Are you going to bed? Or...would you like to come stay?"
Fletch stopped, back turned. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. Did he want to stay? Part of him did, but that part was drowned so deeply in the pain of these little cuts, and it wasn't strong enough on its own to change his mind. He sighed. Turned to face the man, barely visible in the dimness of the night, and he signed back with slow, careful, deliberate motions. "No. I wouldn't. Not after that. Good night, Theo."
He nodded in understanding. This was why he hadn't gone straight back to Fletcher's room when he left to give him space. There was less sting in the rejection by being told no versus being kicked out of the room or abandoned in it.
"Alright. Get some good sleep. I love you and I'll see you in the morning."
By the time Theo had begun to sign, Fletch had already turned away. He didn't know what the next day would bring if he left like this. He just knew that right now, it would hurt too much to sit in whatever damage this was. He needed peace. He needed simple. He needed a drink. And none of those things would happen in Theo's room, in Theo's bed. The man would just stir shit up again. He'd take something good and make it an argument and dig and dig until he'd found another tender string to yank. No. Fletcher needed away from that, whatever it was.
He left the room and returned to his own, picking up his now futile purchase along the way. He shut the door without pausing to so much as glance at the man. He set the bag aside. He stared at his empty bed: the rumpled sheets, the depression in the pillow where Theo had lain. It would be hard to sleep with the man's scent and memory surrounding him. Harder still with this blossoming anger at Ven and himself and the unfairness of life. But he was too raw to quest any further down that path. He didn't want to lay there and wonder why the man had never said it. He thought he knew the answer already, and it scared him to face it. So instead he drank it all away, and fell into bed with his clothes still on, and faded off into drunken oblivion.
And there was the rejection. It was such a familiar pain and thing to have someone just close communication on Theo. People turned away, they walked away, they covered their mouths, or stood where he couldn't see. Most wouldn't even learn sign for him and instead forced him to struggle on a daily basis. But, Fletcher, who knew how important this was to Theo had turned his back and walked away from him mid-sentence.
He considered saying his words aloud but given that his lover's actions had been deliberately silencing, he decided against pushing the matter. Fletcher needed space and Theo would give it to him. He tried desperately too to not give into anxiety and despair, to not think the worst and that this was a sign that the other man was done with him. It was difficult but he held onto his promise not to and allowed his trust in Fletcher to overpower his own worry.
Theo still dragged himself out of bed and mindful of the fact that Fletcher would hear him if he paced or muttered, moved himself instead back out to the balcony. It still lingered with the smell of smoke and for a moment he looked to Fletcher's window to see if more came from his room. But it was vacant. With some bitter sadness he wondered if the other man was drinking now and it was entirely his fault this time.
He stared down over the railing. A tiny fantasy of leaping off and into the tree beside it then running away flashed within his mind. Its appearance startled him. It had been a very, very long time since he had considered such things but it had never been from love he had been wanting to run from. So why now?
Movement below caught his eye and he realized Barty had spotted him. He waved back at the man eyeing him and then retreated back into his room. Pretty songbirds like him belonged in their gilded cages safe from the wilds of the real woods. He'd never survive out there. Not even Fletcher believed he could rough it for long. His eyes dragged back towards the other man's door. He wanted to burst in and pounce, to brandish apologies on a silver platter and demand an embrace. But as greedy as he was, that was going too far and even stupid pretty boy that he was, he knew that.
He settled into a chair and stared as the flames died down and dawn crept back through his window. How many more nights were going to start lovely and end in heartbreak like this? Were they just ill-fitted? Was Theo forcing something on Fletcher that the other man was all too eager to go along with because he didn't know better and was just that desperate?
For once, Theo dreaded what the morning would bring. He felt terrible, looked worse, and was too afraid that he'd be receiving a cold look from Fletcher instead of the warmth he craved. He did write a letter though begging off having Edwina come over, feigning a headache and begged one of the guards to switch with Neal so that he didn't have to face the man's scrutiny when he was already feeling like dirt under a farmer's boot.
Instead of returning to his chair by the fire, he dragged it out onto the balcony along with a throw blanket. At least the cool air would help keep him awake and didn't require him to get caught and yelled at for being in the yard by his mother whose nerves would likely suffer a fright over her baby boy risking getting sick in the "frigid" temperatures. All he wanted was peace, and perhaps a bit of punishment for having ruined things again. It would serve him right if he caught a cold. Maybe then he wouldn't have to face the world for a few weeks.
Fletch awoke to too-bright sun and eye sockets that pounded shards into his brain. As with all mornings that began with a hangover, he regretted how much he'd drank the night before. The feeling only deepened as he recalled why he'd done it in the first place. Sleep had brought him no fresh perspective on it at all. He'd passed out hurting and alone, and now he'd woken up that way, too.
It didn't go away at breakfast. His cigarette afterwards didn't clear his mind, either. When he turned to head in, he glanced up at Theo's balcony out of pure habit, expecting to see closed doors and drawn shades, but to his surprise, there he was: all bundled up and hunched like he was miserable. "And whose fault is that?" Fletch muttered to himself, and then he felt horrid for even thinking it.
He left the house again for sparring practice, and again for another smoke, and then for a third. Each time, he looked up, and each time, Theo hadn't moved from where he sat. By his fourth smoke it was early afternoon — nearly the start of his shift. He'd been dreading it. He'd been dreading being forced to face the man who'd turned away from him when he'd most needed him to stay and be a comfort. But now, as he stared up at the nobleman and finished his cigarette, he began to grow irritated.
This was so childish. It was absurdly dramatic. It had gone on long enough.
He marched back towards the house and up through the servant's entrance, startling the maids as he stomped past them. He made his way up the stairs, and down the hall, and to Theo's door, pausing long enough only to relieve Tiff. "Now excuse me. He's making poor choices," Fletch informed the man as he pushed through Theo's door, shutting it behind him. He strode determinedly to the balcony, opened the doors, grabbed the back of Theo's chair, and began slowly and loudly dragging it — and its contents — back inside.
Theo had fallen asleep in the afternoon sun with his legs thrown over one arm of the chair and his back curled up against the other. He didn't realize Fletcher was even on shift let alone on the balcony until he was suddenly and rudely awakened by his equilibrium being thrown off by the chair tipping backwards and the vibrations of it being harshly dragged back inside.
He squealed and flailed violently in surprise before looking up at Fletcher in wide-eyed alarm and horror. The blanket tangled around him making it impossible to just jump up and away but his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Upon recognizing his nap-disturber, he settled and dropped his gaze, refusing to look at the other man. Two of them could play the ending communication game if they wanted.
Fletch dragged him all the way back in, set the chair down on all fours again, and strode around it to shut the balcony doors. He left Theo sitting there facing out across the grounds. It was clear the man didn't want to talk to him — though whatever cry for attention this was screamed that he wanted to be seen in spite of it. That was fine. They didn't need to talk about it. Between his hangover and his festering anger at what he'd realized the night before, Fletch didn't have the patience to play this game.
He turned to leave. Halfway to the door, he scowled and thought better of it. If Theo was in the mood to self-destruct even the slightest bit, he'd need someone to stay and watch him. And as Tiff had just finished his shift, it was going to have to be him that did it. He swore beneath his breath, pivoted, and dropped down into a chair by the fire.
He disentangled himself from his blankets with a huff and looked over to glare at his partner. So the man was not going to speak to him but was going to sit and sulk in his presence. Fantastic.
"Is there a legitimate reason you woke me up and dragged me inside like that? Are we actually under attack? Or are you just continuing shutting me down and shutting me out like yesterday?"
Fletch scoffed and shook his head. He leaned back. "Nah," he grunted. "Not getting reeled into this. I'm just here to make sure you don't hurt yourself doing whatever the fuck it is you've decided to do today."
He scowled and stared as if expecting Fletcher to continue. But when he did speak it was in short, clipped words.
"And how was I hurting myself by SITTING OUTSIDE? Am I so incapable of caring for myself that I now warrant dragging about like an unruly toddler having a tantrum in the middle of the street? I must now what? Be protected from myself?"
Theo took a deep breath and attempted to calm himself. "I have not slept all night and that was the first sleep I'd gotten since the night before last, which was itself in turn limited, as was the night before it as well."
He sighed and shook his head sounding utterly exhausted and with no fight left in him. "I can't do this with you right now. I'm...I hate fighting with you. I don't even understand how we got here AGAIN. I'm just so tired."
"Then stop fighting," Fletch countered coolly. "Don't start it if you can't deal with the consequences. I'm not taking the bait this time, Theo. I'm not getting sucked into dramatics. Not after the bizarre shit you pulled last night. So stop it. If you need sleep, fucking sleep. Your bed's right there. No one's keeping you from it but yourself."
"I'm sorry what? Bizarre stuff I pulled? I'm sorry expressing my feelings and giving you the space you wanted in the first place is so damn horrible for you. I'm not the one that intentionally silenced me and shut me down though so maybe look in the mirror before accusing me of things.
"And that's another thing. You want to talk dramatics? Who is the dramatic one: the one that was sat peacefully on their own bedroom balcony for the day, or the one that aggressively dragged them off it so violently that my bones hurt from how loud it was? You feel good about yourself now? You showed me who's the bigger man? I don't know what I did to deserve this treatment this time but I certainly didn't something so horrible as to have you treat me the way you did last night. You know better than to do that."
Theo shook his head again looking utterly betrayed and hurt. He pursed his lips and attempted to take another resetting breath. "Are you going to talk to me and tell me what this is all about or are you going to play games with me and leave me guessing until we're both too miserable to manage?"
Not a word of it got through to him. All he saw was a man throwing a child's tantrum, and all he heard was a fight. His heels dug into the proverbial ground, and he sat there and allowed the cold silence to fall between them until it became unbearable. "Right," he said at last, and stood slowly and calmly from the chair. "I'm done. I'm not doing this. Go catch a chill on the balcony, then. Get really good and sick. Lose me my job. You want to talk? You want to fix this? You know where to find me when you're finished with this childish, attention-seeking bollocks."
With that, Fletch rounded the chair and left Theo's room to finish his shift in the hallway. He did so calmly. He didn't stomp or slam the door. He didn't betray just how much Theo had struck his heart and made him bleed.
The tears hit him like a great, big rogue wave. No sooner had the door shut than a soft, pained whine escaped him and the waterfalls began. He bit his lips hard to try and stifle the sound though, already too afraid of being accused of further dramatics and childish attention-seeking antics.
His heart hurt. He was absolutely overwhelmed by lack of sleep, confusion, frustration, betrayal, and heart sickness. He still didn't know what he had done, last night or more specifically in that moment to warrant this. And Fletcher wouldn't tell him. He got yelled at plenty for not believing Fletcher or listening to him. But how could he listen to a man that didn't speak to him or tell him what he needed, wanted, felt?
Theo's eyes darted about the room, desperate for something to ground or distract him. Nothing. This room that had been his sanctuary from the world was now a prison. The chair where Fletcher sat. The balcony where he smoked. The bed where he slept. The room next door that was his. The bathroom where he had bathed Theo.
He needed to leave. He wanted to run, to flee, to get as far away as possible only to make another pained sound knowing the one he wanted to run from, the one he wanted to run to was stood just on the other side of his door. There was no escape. For Theodore Archer, there never would be.
Still, he darted into his bathroom and got cleaned up and changed. Then, it was out into the hall. His eyes slid over Fletcher, still wet with tears before he looked away and wordlessly made his way through the house. There was no clear destination, just aimless wandering the mostly unused section of the house that was his. At one point he stopped before a window opening that overlooked the small forest he and Fletcher had once fled into on their night of revelry all those months ago. It seemed like an eternity since then.
"How much have you had to drink today," he asked quietly, turning his head just enough to see if the other man would respond to him.
Begrudgingly, he followed the nobleman down the hall and about his day. He hadn't missed the tears. Theo had been crying in the time between when Fletch had left and when the man had reappeared. The sight only irritated him further. "Playing lost puppy now? Really?" he muttered behind Theo's back. He felt sick the moment he said it. With that invisible jab, he'd stepped over the line from self-defense to cruelty. Regardless of Theo's maturity, Fletch had to be better than this. He couldn't stoop to who he used to be.
They stopped by a window, and Theo stared out to the horizon like a caged animal that had long ago accepted its fate. And then, without so much as a warning, he dug again. Fletcher's expression turned dark and warning as he faced the man. What a thing to hold over him right now. What a weighty thing. And if the wrong person overheard them, what a threat to his place here. "As much as needed to do my job, sir," he murmured.
He nodded quietly. So it wasn't excessive drunkenness. Fletcher just was intentionally behaving this way. He was in control of himself. He wanted to lash out and punish Theo. And somehow that hurt more than it being carelessness.
Theo nodded again, looking out at the trees. He wanted to run. He couldn't physically outrun Fletcher, sure. But he could outride him. He could get down to the stable, saddle up and take off before the other man could keep up.
Why? Why was he running from the man he loved? Why was he so desperate to escape that he couldn't try once more to salvage what this was? Did Fletcher even want to? Was that what it was? That Fletcher seemed so wholly against meeting Theo in the middle or talking to him that Theo despite having finally professed those three little words wanted to just give up and bolt?
He hated himself and had to tilt his head and swallow strongly to force back another wave of tears. He couldn't run from Elijah. He could run from his father. Here was a man that treated him on most days far better than either ever had. But from this one he wanted to run. Or was it himself?
Theo turned to face Fletcher and spoke very quietly. "You're hurting me," he began. "You're punishing me and lashing out at me with coldness over something I don't know I've done. Yesterday I told you something in complete confidence that was very important to me and you shared it back. And now this.
"I'm not your father and I'm not Ven. I'm Theo and this isn't fair to me. I don't want to be fighting with you like this all the time. But, I need you to communicate with me. You yell at me that I don't listen, but you don't talk. I don't know what he was, but I'm not a mind reader. I only know what you tell me.
"You don't want to talk this out right now, that's fine. But communication needs to consistently happen at some point for both our sakes if you want this. Because I do. I very much do. But, I'm not going to endure this cycle every other night if you're not going to talk to me when there's a problem.
"I'm not trying to get you fired. I'm not trying to get you in trouble. And I'm certainly not trying to hurt you. But, this is me telling you that you're hurting me and I need it to stop. Please."
From the first words out of Theo's mouth, the wall fell, revealing anguish and fear and worry. He'd hurt Theo. He'd been mistaken and he'd genuinely hurt the man. Somewhere along the way, their accounts of the other night had diverged, and both had clearly left with a very different picture of how it had all gone down, and now they both were bleeding. He listened intently, and by the end of it, he looked close to tears.
"I'm sorry," he rasped. "That wasn't..." He stopped himself. Hesitantly, he lifted his hands and signed instead. "Not here. Could be heard. Your room."
He nodded his head as more of a blink than a nod before signing back. "Now or later after your shift? I'm not going to force you to do this until you're ready."
In that moment he wanted nothing more than to yank Fletcher into a hug and console him. To ask what was wrong and to comfort and support this beautiful man that he loved. But, outside of the safety of their rooms they had to remain locked in place forever kept at arm's length as if they were not too men deeply in love with each other in defiance of all that was deemed right and good in the world.
Fletch shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Now. I'm hurting you. I don't want to be."
"You matter. I don't want to hurt you either. Come home," he signed back before moving to head back to his room. He made sure to maneuver his body just so to hide as he gave Fletcher's arm a reassuring squeeze in passing.
He kept his stride even paced when all he wanted was to bolt back to his room, dragged Fletcher into his arms, and hold on tight until they were both better. Instead he opened the door to his room calmly, stepped in and waited long enough for the other man to enter before closing and locking it.
Home?
Was home supposed to hurt like this? He supposed it always had, in some way or another. If there was ever a place he had to watch his own back, it was home. As he passed over Theo's threshold, he braced himself for what he knew he was too raw to face. But he had to do this. He wouldn't drag this man down with him.
He put some distance between them, opting to stand beside the fire, hands still clasped behind his back like anyone else could see him. He stumbled over what to say, but with no armor left, everything was a jumbled mess, and no one part of it was clear enough to focus on. "Theo, I'm sorry," he blurted out instead. "I didn't know. I didn't mean to. I thought you..."
He stopped and thought on what the man had told him by the window and tried again. "You said you're not him. Good. I wouldn't want you if you were. But you went and did something that was so like him that it..."
There was another pause as he wrested control of that sick anger. "You dig in like you're trying to tear my damned skin off to see me. And I say stop, and you say you will while you dig in deeper. And then you go and say a thing like that. Something — no one's ever — and I say it back, and then you leave? And then you just leave me with it? Like you got what you wanted and damn what you do to me? Don't do that. Don't be him. I can't do this again. I can't have another man just — just pull me apart and break me like this."
"No one's ever?" He whispered, hands reaching out to Fletcher before he realize what he was doing. He curled his fingers back into his palms and lowered his arms.
"You're right. I pushed you and I shouldn't have. I'm also sorry. And that wasn't even how I wanted to tell you that I just...I was so focused on trying to provide you with space in our life that I didn't give you any in the moment. And when I realized and we were just being angry I retreated to give you the space you wanted. I even said to you before I left that just because we were frustrated and angry I still very much meant what I said. I do feel that way for you, even now. I thought you'd come back inside calmer and we could try again and I could apologize. Or you'd need more space and take it—which is fine!
"Instead though you came in and you silenced me in the middle of talking to you. In the middle of me telling you that I love you, you turned your back on me and walked away. Then today you won't tell me what's wrong, you yell at me I'm being childish, treat me again like I am incapable of being an adult making grown decisions, and expect me to just know and understand things you left unsaid.
"I am not trying to hurt you. But I acknowledge that I very much did. And I am very sorry, Jack. I am so sorry. I didn't mean to push your boundaries and I didn't mean to abandon you when you needed me there most. I know it's the time of year when you're not your best either. And I respect that and am staying no matter how bad it gets. But I need you to talk to me, Jack. Write to me, talk to me, sign with me, something so I can alter course in time with you. I want this to work, but I need help...it's all new to me too."
Fletch looked horrified as it finally sunk in exactly what he'd done to Theo. "No. No no no. That's not — that's not what I was doing — I wouldn't. We're past that. I respect you too much. But you left me, and all I could see was you trying to start another fight when I still needed air from the last one. That was all, Theo. I'm not like that. You know I'm not."
Fletch looked away for a moment and took a deep breath, blinking away the burning in his eye. "I'm sorry. I was awful earlier. Dragging you in like that. I...really don't want to relive this shit right now, but I think you deserve to know. I think I erm...I think I need to sit."
He returned to his chair, head hung, and slumped into it. He closed his eye for a moment, willing himself to focus on the very thing he avoided day after day. When he thought he had a tenuous hold on it, he returned his gaze to Theo. "You need to know where this is coming from, love. I think it's the only way I'll make any sort of sense to you. Ven and I were together for over ten years. That part you know. Here's what you don't.
"He was a healer from the start. He...got into his own supply when he was younger. Poppy. It was what he used to keep from feeling, I think. Like me and drinking. And maybe he quit back then, but once you've started something like that, you never really quit for good. And then when we finally had some peace, it was like everything caught back up to him and he couldn't handle it. And he started in on it again. And he pulled away from me. Started having tantrums when I took his poppy or asked anything of him. So I took care of him through it. Made decisions for him. Made sure he ate, you know. Washed him. Kept him safe. And then he just...finally...left. Left me. Left everyone. By his own hand."
Fletcher ground his teeth and clenched his jaw and looked away again with such fierce and bitter agony. Only when he'd controlled it did he look back. "When you act like him, I do what I know. And that's making the decisions and keeping you safe and holding everything else in. I didn't know you were sleeping. I thought you were trying to...I thought you wanted me to watch you hurt yourself. To hurt me. I'm so sorry, Theo. I didn't think. I wasn't thinking."
His heart ached deeply. What kind of man had this Ven been? A sick one truly. One drowning in his own self-medication, and the thought scared Theodore because wasn't Fletcher doing the same? It was thoughts better left for later. Right now his beloved needed more of him than concern that would sound like admonishment.
"I'm sorry. Can I...may I touch you? May I provide comfort? Or do you prefer space?"
Fletch glanced back at Theo, still very much a hurting mess. He shook his head sadly and slowly. "No. If you do me one kindness, please. Just. Let me breathe. I can't take this right now. I'll...I'll stop being such a colossal arse, but...I can't have you pulling me in and then digging the way that you do. And the closer we get, the more I have to...to face that this is what it's supposed to be. And that he never..."
He swallowed, face contorting, and bent to hold a hand over his eye. It was as much as he could bear to say aloud.
He nodded, sad but not hurt that his offer had been rejected. "Thank you for sharing your wishes," he replied instead. Theo collected a cloth square and placed it on the table beside Fletcher's chair to wipe his face with before retreating back to the other side of the fire.
"We both made mistakes and I'm sorry for my part in them. Take the time you need. I'll sit quiet and let you do what you need to."
Fletch let his hand slide from his face and fall to his lap. He gazed mournfully over at his friend. His love. "Thank you," he choked through a throat tight with grief. "I'm sorry too. I am. You see what you're getting yourself into, now, don't you? The full of it. Why I wasn't ready. It's not good, Theo. You're a decent man. You deserve better. No — don't...don't argue with me on that. It's true."
He shut his eye tight as another wave washed over him and threatened to pull him under. When he opened it again, he'd clawed some of his calm back. He tried to say something else and stopped. Hurt flashed across his features again. But he pushed past it and signed it nonetheless. "I love you. I really do."
He sighed. "We're hurting men trying to survive in a world that doesn't allow much for healing. What I deserve and what you are, are the same: a good man. Being good and being broke are different things. So...instead of us saying we'll be better...maybe we can...maybe we can work on healing."
Theo allowed the other man his peace as he sat and held his book open in his lap. The words were a blur and once more he sat unreading. The difference this time though was that he wasn't staring at Fletcher but very much at the page. The book was no longer the excuse to stare but the excuse not to until the other man moved.
"I love you too," he replied immediately and without any hesitation. "We're going to be okay. We're okay. You don't have to say it again until you're ready. I know it was forced out of you and I'm sorry."
"And it's not forced now," Fletch said. "I'm saying it because I need you to know it after what I've done today. I need you to see it."
He leaned forward, burying his creased face in his hands and rubbing away the anguish. He ran his fingers back across his head. "I don't know what to do anymore," he said to the floor. "I don't know where to go from here." Theo's words echoed in his mind: that Fletch was hurting him. That he needed to stop. Could he stop? Was this enough, or would he just keep making the same mistake?
He straightened and then fell back and slumped against the chair. His signing came slowly and haltingly. "Am I still hurting you? I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to make it right. Tell me how to make it right."
"Oh, my Jack," he sighed softly in deep sympathy and concern. "No, my love. You're not hurting me. We're alright if you can forgive me and I'm not hurting you either. All I need is this. I need to know when I hurt you so that I can stop and not do it again. And I hear you. You need me to back off when you say back off like now. But, how do I make this right and fix this for you? How do I put you more at ease? Should we slow down?"
"Theo, there's nothing to forgive," Fletch said aloud. "There never is. You don't need to fix anything or make anything right. You've done nothing wrong. He's just haunting me. That's all. Stubborn bastard that he is. I..."
Fletch brushed his fingers over the bracelet without even thinking. He looked down at it: that weightless manacle. How long would he wear it? How long would he hold onto this? He hated it more and more each day, but it still didn't feel like it was time to let it go. Not quite yet. But there was something else that he could be free from. Something to reclaim.
"There is one thing," he said as his eye returned to Theo. "Call me my name. My real name."
He offered a sad half smile and nodded his head. "I'm sorry I don't know how to banish ghosts. If you figure it out though I wouldn't say no to learning."
His eyes dropped to follow Fletcher's gaze. He'd noticed the bracelet before but had honestly not paid it much mind. He had his own jewelry but there was something about the way his bodyguard looked at it now that made Theo suspect at its significance. It reminded the man of his husband. A gift perhaps? Or something that had once belonged to him? Either way it was important to Fletcher and so Theo wisely dared not ask. Nor, he resolved, would he ever ask the man to remove it for Theo's sake.
"Anything," he uttered earnestly. Then his look of hopefulness turned to genuine, gentle joy. "My Devlin Fletcher."
Theo's smile broke out into a soft giggle as a thought struck him. "Peas in a pod. Archer and Fletcher."
Fletch didn't smile. He didn't reply to Theo's quip. Nevertheless, the weight visibly eased from his face and shoulders. He hadn't realized how much of a relief it would be. How warm it would sound coming from Theo, even as his father's name rolled off the man's tongue. "You know...I haven't heard that from someone else in so long. But I think I like it when you say it."
"You mentioned Dev or Fletch, do you have a preference of any of them? Or against? Oh—it is Devlin with a D right? Not Tevlin with a T? I'm suddenly having flashbacks to Daw and Taw again."
Theo continued to smile back. "I love you. I love saying your name and knowing I'm allowed to."
It sounded so much more right than Theo using Ven's old name for him. Like he could start to let that era of his life ebb away. Theo had talked of them both trying to heal, and maybe that was already what this was. Maybe it was just the part where the cut hurts worse than when it was first made — before the wound finally begins to close.
"With a D, same as Daw." Fletch signed the letter as he spoke it. "And anything. Just not Mr. Fletcher."
He looked Theo over, noting the man's dark circles and weighted brow. He looked exhausted. Like he truly hadn't slept at all over this. Fletch motioned to the bed with a slight jerk of the head. "If you need to sleep, I can stay here. Make sure you aren't disturbed."
"Devlin," he repeated practicing how it felt on his tongue with an unconscious smile. "I can do that. Your real name just when it's us then?"
He regarded him some feeling greatly unsure on how to ask his next question. Was it better to accept the offer without question or to saddle Fletcher with another choice?
"Is that what you want? Do you want to be alone with your thoughts? Do you want company or even distraction? Do you even want to be in the same room as me right now? You do not need to stay. But you are welcome to."
Fletch grimaced, not at the questions, but at the answer to them. "If I leave to be alone, I'll just keep drinking. Best I stay. You do what you want, though, you just...look very tired, love, that's all."
Theo nodded. "I am tired," he admitted freely. "I felt like a donkey to you and I couldn't sleep. I missed having you close and just spent the night mad at myself. Just figured sitting outside at least I wouldn't bother anyone and could still keep awake and enjoy the day. Apparently being cozy when it's cold just makes you sleepy. Who'd have known?"
He dragged himself to his feet and stretched before trundling off to his bed. "Can you do the fire again though please? You always do it best and I'm too much of a fire risk."
"Sure, sure. I've got it. Go rest. I'll be here."
True to his word, Fletcher stayed and tended to the fire, keeping the two of them warm despite the distance that had grown between them. And that same distance lingered. Days passed, and yet that raw feeling didn't abate. Instead it twisted back into rage at what he'd never known, never heard, never been given. He spent much of his off time beating the practice dummies to shreds as he tried desperately to channel that vitriol into something that wasn't Theo. And it worked. It did. But it didn't change the fact that their nights were lonely ones, now.
By the end of the week, an altogether different kind of despair had befallen them: a Yule party. The good was that it was at some other noble arsewipe's manor, and so the Baroness wasn't running around screaming at the staff for five days prior. The bad was that Fletcher couldn't even escape back to his room if he wanted to. He'd be trapped with these awful people until Theo's parents decided it was time to make their exit. No smoking, no drinking. Just standing with that signature expression like there was a stick up him.
The worse was that Edwina would be there, and Neal wouldn't be.
Fletch waited in the hall outside of Theo's room, already plenty sour at the thought of wasting a night at this stupid thing. But at least, he thought, he wouldn't be alone this time.
It was draining and lonely but Theo kept to his word and respected Fletcher's boundaries and did not make advances on him, instead waiting to be given the go ahead. After their few short nights together though he found himself miserable for their return. He craved the touch and affection he had been gifted in Fletcher's arms. Now that he had tasted love, he desired it more and always.
He had to content himself with watching his love from the balcony absolutely demolish training dummy after dummy. It was torture for Theo knowing the man he loved was hurting and there was nothing he could do to protect him or heal him. That work was for Fletcher alone to do. Until then he could just remain a quiet support.
In the meantime he was busy secretly acquiring gifts for family and friends alike. There was the barrel of mulled wine for the staff, cigars for his father, ribbons for his mother, fancy sweets for Kenna, another spirit ball friend for Aneisha, and so on and so forth. Fletcher's gift was proving to be more complicated however. Theo had every intention of gifting the other man a copy of the pirate romance novel he'd first pilfered from Theo's collection. But, he also wanted to steal the man's coat and have it not only repaired but have new and additional charms added to it besides the warning charm that had been broke since the night Ashley had been killed.
He was in fact completely wrapped up in thinking of presents that when the servants came to assist with his attire for the ball, he was not at all ready. It was a massive rush then to get him all back in order so that when they all left, giggling and twittering as they passed Fletcher in the hall Theo was still trying to collect himself.
Rosy-cheeked and somewhat stressed looking, the nobleman finally emerged from his room in a deep royal blue set of tailored robes with silver threading that looked like stars. His freckles were once more powdered into oblivion and there was something dusted into his hair that made it sparkle as it reflected in the light.
"I look silly," he griped as he exited and stood in the empty hall across from Fletcher. "Why don't the rest of you ever get to dress up and suffer like this?"
An echo of the day of the debutante ball jolted him to attention. This time, though, his gaze was returned, and with no one there but the two of them, Theo could see exactly how enamored Fletcher really was. He looked the nobleman up and down slowly and appreciatively before clearing his throat and forcing himself stoic again. "That's not the word I'd use," he managed. "What. Me? With the — " He waved a hand dismissively at his own face. "Can you imagine? My luck, I'd look like I belonged in a bloody circus. Anyways, come on. Your mum's shrieked up the stairs twice now. Let's just get it all over with."
Fletch gestured for Theo to go ahead of him, then followed behind the man. With every step, he sank further into that fateful day: Theo's engagement, the attack, Ash's death. There was a pit in his gut at the thought of reliving parts of it. He'd be in the carriage with the three of them, the whole time focusing on keeping his cards to his chest. Theo and Edwina would play the same stupid game. His only consolation now was that neither of them meant it. Well, that and the fact that every time he met the Baron's eye, a triumphant thought bubbled up to the surface:
I'm sleeping with your son, and you don't even know it. How's that for homosexuals and deviants?
"Twice?" He bemoaned looking especially pained. "Your poor ears." Theo resisted just barely the urge to brush up against Fletcher as he passed the man. He just so much desired being close to the man and even that would bring him a drop of sustenance for the hunger within him. But he behaved and walked ahead with neither touch nor teasing.
Piling into the carriage gave him his own pause as it brought back its own memories. He had not been in one since that unfortunate night as Edwina had always been the one to visit him rather than him visit her. For a moment he attempted to back pedal only for his father to give a sharp look. Theo hung his head and entered to sit beside his mother in her excessively sparkly and puffy dress. He clenched and unclenched his fists while tamping down the bile in his throat. Over and over he counted to ten in every language he knew as the carriage bounced along, his breath shallow, sharp, staccato and almost harsh in its exit and entry.
How was he meant to survive this outing when he couldn't even get through a carriage ride without having a panic attack?
At first he didn't notice Theo's rising panic. In fact, he'd been trying very hard not to look at the man at all for fear that at this close proximity, he'd slip and show how he felt, and that even if the Baroness didn't, the Baron would surely catch that glance between them. When he finally did catch his love's fist clenching and unclenching out of the corner of his eye, he wondered: was it happening to him, too? The memories of that night playing over and over?
Fletch made a show of clearing his throat and shifting, bumping momentarily into Theo's knee. He dropped his hands between his legs so that the motions were slightly less apparent to the man's parents. As slowly and carefully as he could, he signed, not what he wanted to sign — that he was there, that he loved Theo, that they'd get through this together — but enough to tell him as much. "Not alone. Safe."
His eyes snapped up as he drew his legs back into himself thinking he had been in the way. It was only as he caught the moving hands that he realized what Fletcher was doing and a fluttering warmth spread through his chest. Even in public, even in a low moment, Fletcher was there providing comfort. Theo wanted nothing more than to press his knee back into Fletcher's and obtain more grounding contact. But he knew better with the presence of his parents and his lover's own resistance to touch currently.
The carriage had barely come to a stop at their destination though before Theo was practically throwing himself out of it. He earned much admonishment he couldn't hear from his parents for not letting Fletcher go first but his focus was more on leaning against the side of the carriage and catching his breath.
"I can't do this," he whispered under his breath while running a hand down his face. "I want to go home."
He was in the middle of helping the Baroness down — and trying not to scowl too harshly at her — when he noticed. Theo hadn't found any relief in the fresh air outside the carriage. In fact, he seemed to have gotten even worse. Fletch glanced between the man and his parents, and it dawned on him that he couldn't be soft in this moment. He couldn't at all. He grimaced at the thought of what he had to say and shut the carriage door to buy himself some time. Then he turned to Theo.
"No, come on, now, sir. We're here, now. You might as well enjoy it. Let's head in."
He took one, deep, fortifying breath and then plastered on his fake smile and gave Fletcher a nod. "Of course, Mr. Daw. How silly of me to be so nervous. I've seen my fiancé countless times now. No difference between home and work so many watching eyes. Thank you, I'm good now."
Theo gave another smaller headbob of a more genuine nature while meeting the other man's eyes before straightening himself and beginning to escort his mother inside. The noble mask fell back into place but there was a crack in it. His eyes no longer looked as enthused to the point that when Edwina joined them she asked after him, pressing her palm to his forehead to check his temperature. Theo gently drew her hand back down and away and released it.
"I am well, I assure you, Lady Obower. You need not worry for me and might I say your dress is lovely. Red is such a classic color for this time of year."
The woman twittered and giggled, doing her best to cling to him and never being allowed to touch for too long as Theo repeatedly maneuvered her into more polite positions and touches.
"Is Mr. Truckett here tonight?"
"I'm afraid not. After the incident at our last ball it was deemed best to have only experienced guards on staff tonight."
"Oh," she replied, trying to cover up her disappointment before smiling brightly and once more attempting to cling to his upper arm. "We'll have to find some mistletoe tonight. Although I don't think I've seen any in Lady Fjene's decorations. How gauche of her."
"Perhaps for the best. Can you imagine the number of couples taking advantage of it and so early in the season?"
"Oh yes! Best to keep the anticipation up!" Edwina eyed Fletcher up and down with a large grin. "Do you have someone to drag under the mistletoe this year, Jack?"
"—Mr. Daw is from the north. I'm not sure they do that where he's from," Theo quickly interjected blushing deeply at the thought. "Oh is that Lady Diene and Lady Gergene over that? Would you like a moment to talk to your friends dear?"
Edwina squealed and bounded off without being told twice, giving the two men a blessed moment of peace. "Is this ball almost over?" Theo asked exhausted, knowing it had barely even begun.
Fletch barely followed their conversation. He didn't want to pay attention to it at all, mind, but he thought Theo was worth keeping a closer eye on. The man wasn't in a good state, and Fletch would no doubt be adding to his misery here and there as he kept up the act.
"I'll drag you into your own grave, woman," he muttered beneath his breath as the girl made her retreat to burden some other poor sod with her grating presence. He turned to Theo, his irritation lingering. "The bloody hell is missile-toe? Sounds awful. Erm. You look like hell. Do you need a drink? I can find you one."
He snorted softly. "Not worth muddying your hands," he replied back through his teeth. The blush returned though at the reminder of mistletoe and Theo avoided Fletcher's eyes hoping to avoid explaining that one.
A drink though, it was foolish but it sounded like an excellent excuse to escape this show. "A big one. Maybe if I get stupid and drunk I can go home." Theo nodded with a deep sigh. "Yes please."
Fletch snorted at the thought. He'd never seen Theo truly drunk. The closest the man had gotten — that he knew of, anyway — was on that awful wine he'd dug out from beneath the floorboards. And while this was hardly the venue to test him when, Fletch would never turn someone down for needing to drink their misery away. "A man can dream," he replied.
He stood there rigidly, scanning the room as he spoke, before his eye finally rested back on Theo. His ire calmed, his expression was now carefully controlled, though his clenched jaw gave away just how much he hated this, too. "Why don't you go and find yourself a seat, sir?" he suggested. "I'll find you a stiff one and be back shortly."
He nodded his curt guardsman's nod, still hoping that Theo would see past the act just as he tried to see past Theo's. Then, as if afraid to linger there, he marched off in search of wherever these horrid people kept their refreshments table.
Theo bobbed his head in agreement. His gaze however lingered on the retreating man, taking in the strength but also the tension of his form. Fletcher was miserable, and likely more so than Theo himself.
As he drifted through the room and eventually out onto a balcony rather than a chair as he had been instructed, Theo began to question once more what they were doing. His life was not Fletcher's. Would the other man accept the social finery and political dancing that came so often with comfort? Would he be able to stand balls like this? Or the questions that came with Theo being a perpetual bachelor? Would he want to be open one day when the Baron and Baroness were long gone? Would he want to forever remain a secret?
There were so many questions to be answered and they were nowhere near a place to be asking them yet in their relationship. Theo slumped in the shadow of the balcony corner and stared forlornly down below. How was he to balance all this? How could he best support the man he loved without crushing his spirit or driving him further away? He had never done this all before and he so earnestly wanted to get it all right. Fletcher deserved right. The way he spoke of the past, hinted at how things had been, or openly shared his scars, it all spoke to Theodore of a man that needed kindness and warmth and gentleness. Patience, Theo had in spades but how did he both protect and nurture a man in their current environment? How did he allow him to blossom while also dragging him down into the muck with him?
They needed to talk. They really, really needed to talk and soon.
Fletcher hit the end of a laundry list of unique and silent ways to convey his unhappiness, and still he couldn't find Theo. He'd passed the girl at least two times, now. As he walked by her yet again, he started at the top with a low, irritated noise grating up his throat. He supposed it was a good thing he knew where she was. If he couldn't find either of them, he'd know there was trouble. Didn't change the fact that he hated the sight of her, though.
Finally, by sheer chance, he caught a glimpse of Theo out on a balcony. "That's not a chair," he muttered as he stepped out into the chill with the man's drink. He set it on the balustrade and promptly wrapped his arms around himself, shivering in the cold. "Bottoms up. 'S fucking freezing out here. Still better than putting up with them, though."