Trick or treat for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lauramcewan
Nov. 22nd, 2011 11:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
splixFor Laura, a slice of Charles and Julien. :)
*
Their new house was Second Empire: very fashionable, very French. Julien led Charles through each luxuriously appointed room, delightedly stroking smooth silk curtains, plush velvet sofas, cabinets of deep glossy mahogany inlaid with ivory. His pleasure trickled away as he noted Charles’ lack of enthusiasm, but he dug in his heels and grimly towed Charles through each and every high-ceilinged chamber, the vertical line between his brows deepening with each murmured reply to his effusive exclamations about the quality of the furnishings, the exotic provenance of the fabrics.
“And this silk is from India. Paisley, it’s called – isn’t it a marvelous pattern, Charles? It’s the newest thing. Excellent colors, don’t you agree? Vivid, but not gaudy.”
“Aye, lad. It’s marvelous,” Charles echoed hollowly.
Julien’s patience had reached its end. He pivoted on his heel, folded his arms, and fixed Charles with a steely glare. “You don’t like the house.”
“No! It’s a grand place,” Charles protested. “Grand.”
“Indeed?” Julien snorted. “You’ve scarcely glanced at it. Forgive me, Charles, but I’m having some difficulty comprehending exactly what bores you so. You approved all the drawings and furnishings and materials yourself. You even seemed interested, at the time.”
Charles glanced around and scratched at his beard, his blue eyes clouded. “Nay, lad, it isn’t that. It’s only – well, I suppose I didn’t reckon on how fancy it would be when it was all sorted out.”
“But….” Julien was nonplussed. “We’ve been looking forward to a home of our own. Permanence, Charles. No more renting, no one to answer to but ourselves. It’s a comparatively small home, if it’s the extravagance you’re thinking of. And we can certainly afford it. I don’t understand.”
“I’m thinking I’ll have to take off my boots the moment I walk in the door. Can’t have the precious carpets dirtied.” Charles attempted a conciliatory smile.
“There’s a damned boot-scraper by the door. I –“ Julien paused and saw the twinkle in Charles’ eye. “Why do you like to vex me so?” He gave Charles a push, then wound his arm round Charles’ waist, drawing him close. “You’re simply not willing to see the beauty of this place, Captain, and all I’ve ever wanted is a comfortable home for us. Do stop mocking me, I beg you.”
“It’s lovely, lad. Beautiful.” Charles gave Julien a rough hug. “Any fellow would be right proud to have a place like this one. It’s only….”
“What?”
“Well…there’s none of us in it, is there? Look at all this fancy stuff. God almighty, I feel like I’m living in a palace. Nay, not living – a guest. And if I don’t scrape my boots properly, I’ll be tossed out on my backside.”
Julien smiled. “You must give it some time. It will feel like home soon enough, I promise. Our old furniture was worn, cracked everywhere – don’t you remember?”
“Aye, I do that.” Charles took Julien in his arms and kissed him. “Don’t mind me, lad. I’m becoming a fussy auld bugger in my dotage.”
“You’ve not seen the bedroom.”
“That’s true, I haven’t. I expect it’s as grand as the rest.”
“Well, almost.” Julien took Charles by the hand and led him into their bedroom. It was grand, with a vast four-poster bed with silk hangings, fine pictures, and deep ebony chests and wardrobes. “Look.” Julien drew Charles to a long bureau already littered with belongings: a set of brushes, a silver tray with grooming implements, a neatly folded stack of starched and pressed white linen handkerchiefs embroidered with Charles’ initials. Next to the handkerchiefs was a humble wooden frame holding a piece of tea-dyed linen. Stitched into the linen were the initials of their first names in green and blue, and intertwined with their initials were wrought a green shamrock and a blue fleur-de-lis, faintly touched with gold thread. “You see, not every vestige of our old life has been shed. I did manage to save a few mementos.”
Charles picked up the frame and caressed it gently. “Well now.” His expression softened. “So you have.”
“Perhaps it will help to ease your discomfort in your new home.”
“Amn’t I a fool, lad?” Charles stroked the back of his hand over Julien’s chin and rested his thumb on the dimple there. “All I need to feel at home is you. You knew that right along, didn’t you?”
“I had hoped,” Julien replied softly.
“Now,” Charles said, “maybe you and I can christen that brand-new bed. What do you say?”
Julien stripped off his coat, grinning. “Aye, aye, Captain. Your wish is my command.”
*
*
Their new house was Second Empire: very fashionable, very French. Julien led Charles through each luxuriously appointed room, delightedly stroking smooth silk curtains, plush velvet sofas, cabinets of deep glossy mahogany inlaid with ivory. His pleasure trickled away as he noted Charles’ lack of enthusiasm, but he dug in his heels and grimly towed Charles through each and every high-ceilinged chamber, the vertical line between his brows deepening with each murmured reply to his effusive exclamations about the quality of the furnishings, the exotic provenance of the fabrics.
“And this silk is from India. Paisley, it’s called – isn’t it a marvelous pattern, Charles? It’s the newest thing. Excellent colors, don’t you agree? Vivid, but not gaudy.”
“Aye, lad. It’s marvelous,” Charles echoed hollowly.
Julien’s patience had reached its end. He pivoted on his heel, folded his arms, and fixed Charles with a steely glare. “You don’t like the house.”
“No! It’s a grand place,” Charles protested. “Grand.”
“Indeed?” Julien snorted. “You’ve scarcely glanced at it. Forgive me, Charles, but I’m having some difficulty comprehending exactly what bores you so. You approved all the drawings and furnishings and materials yourself. You even seemed interested, at the time.”
Charles glanced around and scratched at his beard, his blue eyes clouded. “Nay, lad, it isn’t that. It’s only – well, I suppose I didn’t reckon on how fancy it would be when it was all sorted out.”
“But….” Julien was nonplussed. “We’ve been looking forward to a home of our own. Permanence, Charles. No more renting, no one to answer to but ourselves. It’s a comparatively small home, if it’s the extravagance you’re thinking of. And we can certainly afford it. I don’t understand.”
“I’m thinking I’ll have to take off my boots the moment I walk in the door. Can’t have the precious carpets dirtied.” Charles attempted a conciliatory smile.
“There’s a damned boot-scraper by the door. I –“ Julien paused and saw the twinkle in Charles’ eye. “Why do you like to vex me so?” He gave Charles a push, then wound his arm round Charles’ waist, drawing him close. “You’re simply not willing to see the beauty of this place, Captain, and all I’ve ever wanted is a comfortable home for us. Do stop mocking me, I beg you.”
“It’s lovely, lad. Beautiful.” Charles gave Julien a rough hug. “Any fellow would be right proud to have a place like this one. It’s only….”
“What?”
“Well…there’s none of us in it, is there? Look at all this fancy stuff. God almighty, I feel like I’m living in a palace. Nay, not living – a guest. And if I don’t scrape my boots properly, I’ll be tossed out on my backside.”
Julien smiled. “You must give it some time. It will feel like home soon enough, I promise. Our old furniture was worn, cracked everywhere – don’t you remember?”
“Aye, I do that.” Charles took Julien in his arms and kissed him. “Don’t mind me, lad. I’m becoming a fussy auld bugger in my dotage.”
“You’ve not seen the bedroom.”
“That’s true, I haven’t. I expect it’s as grand as the rest.”
“Well, almost.” Julien took Charles by the hand and led him into their bedroom. It was grand, with a vast four-poster bed with silk hangings, fine pictures, and deep ebony chests and wardrobes. “Look.” Julien drew Charles to a long bureau already littered with belongings: a set of brushes, a silver tray with grooming implements, a neatly folded stack of starched and pressed white linen handkerchiefs embroidered with Charles’ initials. Next to the handkerchiefs was a humble wooden frame holding a piece of tea-dyed linen. Stitched into the linen were the initials of their first names in green and blue, and intertwined with their initials were wrought a green shamrock and a blue fleur-de-lis, faintly touched with gold thread. “You see, not every vestige of our old life has been shed. I did manage to save a few mementos.”
Charles picked up the frame and caressed it gently. “Well now.” His expression softened. “So you have.”
“Perhaps it will help to ease your discomfort in your new home.”
“Amn’t I a fool, lad?” Charles stroked the back of his hand over Julien’s chin and rested his thumb on the dimple there. “All I need to feel at home is you. You knew that right along, didn’t you?”
“I had hoped,” Julien replied softly.
“Now,” Charles said, “maybe you and I can christen that brand-new bed. What do you say?”
Julien stripped off his coat, grinning. “Aye, aye, Captain. Your wish is my command.”
*
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-11-22 06:57 pm (UTC)Oh.
I was merrily reading along, sappy grin on my face...and then tears.
*happy sigh* You remembered. You still have it. I love it. I love you.
*hearts this entry*
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