splix | FIC: Tea and brandy

Title: Tea and Brandy
Author: Alex
Pairing/Character(s): Sharpe/Harper.
Rating: PG
Written for the

sharpe_thinking prompt table, prompt #18, and for the

seans_50 final challenge.

*

The arm that supported Sharpe’s head was brawny, covered in malodorous wool that scraped roughly against his face, but as gentle as a woman cradling an infant. A tin cup was put to his lips.

---There we are, sir. Bit of tea and brandy. Sure we’ll have you sorted in no time.

Sharpe sipped and coughed. The cough ripped into his torn body like another bullet. He curled up and writhed in misery.

---There now. There, there. Hush now, sir. I know it must hurt like the very devil, but you’ve had worse scrapes, I reckon. That old sawbones patched you up as best as he could, so. You’ll be killing Frenchies again in a trice. A wee bit more, sir. Come on, now.

Sharpe tried again. This time the hot liquid trickled down his throat like a blessing, warming his throat and chest.

---Ah, that’s grand, sir. Knew you could do it. I told that old bastard that it’d take more than a couple of Frenchy bullets to do in Richard Sharpe.

Large, blunt fingertips grazed Sharpe’s cheek.

---I told him you’d pull through, so I did. Don’t let me down, now.

Dimly, Sharpe wondered why Harper’s voice trembled so, then decided it didn’t matter. The ragged, burning edges of agony were beginning to blur to a dull throb, and the scratchy wool of Harper’s jacket felt like swan’s-down. It felt good to lean into Harper’s warmth.

Lulled by tea, brandy, and laudanum, he did not see the strained anxiety in Harper’s eyes, nor heard the shaking whispered prayers, nor felt the cold cloth placed upon his brow, tenderly, as if it were the most precious of crowns.

End.