fanfic and original writing by ar (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
witticaster) wrote2010-06-28 01:46 am
witticaster) wrote2010-06-28 01:46 am
0227
Still not precisely pleased with this, but it'll have to do for now.
Had he only thought to have just one glass of wine, Will thought on multiple occasions later on, he would never have punched anyone that evening; but even with a slight excess of alcohol coursing through his veins, he could not truly bring himself to blame anything but his own apparent temper.
The temptation to blame the wine he'd drunk--a bit more than he usually did at parties, to the point that Tharkay would have to do the driving home--was overwhelming, in retrospect. Had he had rather less, perhaps he would never have punch
Will wondered, later on, if he would have been so quick to punch a fellow party guest if only he had drunk rather less wine that night. He had not been too excessive, but there was no denying the way his tongue had begun to feel slightly heavier in his mouth, nor the fact that Tharkay would most certainly have to do the driving home that night. The temptation to blame the alcohol was strong, certainly--but in his heart, Will could not deny that his response would have been similar, had he been stone sober (unlikely though that was at one of Tom Riley's parties).
It had been a pleasant enough occasion through most of the evening; though Will liked Tom far better than most of Tom's other friends, he had found himself in fine company, in the form of Catherine Harcourt and several other colleagues from work. Tharkay had wandered off from that conversation at some point, and later, from the corner of his eye, Will had noted him in conversation with a man Will knew only by sight. The food was good, the drink was plentiful (as Will could well attest to, for better or worse), and it was comfortable, to sit and discuss work and field questions over Temeraire's uni career with friends.
He felt a tap on his shoulder at one point, and turned to see the man with whom Tharkay had been talking: a ropy, dark-haired fellow with a set jaw. The man jerked his head back toward Tharkay, who had gone over to the table of refreshments in lieu of further company, and said, "C'mere, help me teach that fag over there a lesson. Fucking poof came onto me."
Will's smile dropped, his gut turning to ice at the words. Anger came over him, sharp and insistent, and before he had considered at all consciously, his fist had made contact with the man's face. The man reeled back, hands going to his nose. "What the fuck was that for?"
"That is my life partner you are referring to," Will answered, each word a momentary difficulty, when the lingering temptation black the man's eye existed, "and I will thank you to speak of him with respect."
He looked over to Tharkay, who had apparently caught all of this; there was no other reason he would be grinning so openly in public. Will excused himself to Catherine and began to walk over to Tharkay. He heard the man behind him mutter, "Fucking fags," but he did not further challenge Will on this point. (Tharkay had to point out later that this was in part due to the two other party guests holding him back; "Presumably, they didn't care for the occasion to turn into a brawl--there was some booze left, after all.")
They made quick good-byes to Tom, who had missed the excitement and was simply informed that one of his friends was now in possession of a broken nose, and headed out.
Tharkay had curled in close to Will's side, though the warm night did not require it, and Will was only too glad to put an arm around him and keep him there. "What in the world happened between you two?" Will finally asked, as they reached their car.
"I didn't come onto him, if that's what you're asking," Tharkay replied, the faintest hint of amusement in his tone.
"He wasn't your type," observed Will, and felt a warm surge of pride when Tharkay shook his head.
"No, I prefer them less willing to call me 'fag,'" Tharkay said, rolling his eyes, then leaned up to kiss Will's jaw. "But you're right, his hair was too dark, and he was rather too skinny."
At this, Will could only turn his head, to kiss Tharkay properly on the mouth.
When they broke the kiss, rather later than Will had intended, Tharkay shrugged. "He wanted to meet my girlfriend, I said I didn't have one, I'd brought my life partner, and I suppose he figured you looked like a paragon of heterosexuality. You know the rest."
"I do," Will agreed, and got in the passenger side of the car. As he fumbled with his seat belt, he said quietly, "I'm sorry the night ended that way, Tharkay."
Tharkay started the car. "Considering whose flat we were at, it certainly could've been worse. Besides," he added in a wry voice, pulling out onto the road, "it's not every day I have my honour defended."
Will wondered, later on, if he would have been so quick to punch a fellow party guest if only he had drunk rather less wine that night. He had not been too excessive, but there was no denying the way his tongue had begun to feel slightly heavier in his mouth, nor the fact that Tharkay would most certainly have to do the driving home that night. The temptation to blame the alcohol was strong, certainly--but in his heart, Will could not deny that his response would have been similar, had he been stone sober (unlikely though that was at one of Tom Riley's parties).
It had been a pleasant enough occasion through most of the evening; though Will liked Tom far better than most of Tom's other friends, he had found himself in fine company, in the form of Catherine Harcourt and several other colleagues from work. Tharkay had wandered off from that conversation at some point, and later, from the corner of his eye, Will had noted him in conversation with a man Will knew only by sight. The food was good, the drink was plentiful (as Will could well attest to, for better or worse), and it was comfortable, to sit and discuss work and field questions over Temeraire's uni career with friends.
He felt a tap on his shoulder at one point, and turned to see the man with whom Tharkay had been talking: a ropy, dark-haired fellow with a set jaw. The man jerked his head back toward Tharkay, who had gone over to the table of refreshments in lieu of further company, and said, "C'mere, help me teach that fag over there a lesson. Fucking poof came onto me."
Will's smile dropped, his gut turning to ice at the words. Anger came over him, sharp and insistent, and before he had considered at all consciously, his fist had made contact with the man's face. The man reeled back, hands going to his nose. "What the fuck was that for?"
"That is my life partner you are referring to," Will answered, each word a momentary difficulty, when the lingering temptation black the man's eye existed, "and I will thank you to speak of him with respect."
He looked over to Tharkay, who had apparently caught all of this; there was no other reason he would be grinning so openly in public. Will excused himself to Catherine and began to walk over to Tharkay. He heard the man behind him mutter, "Fucking fags," but he did not further challenge Will on this point. (Tharkay had to point out later that this was in part due to the two other party guests holding him back; "Presumably, they didn't care for the occasion to turn into a brawl--there was some booze left, after all.")
They made quick good-byes to Tom, who had missed the excitement and was simply informed that one of his friends was now in possession of a broken nose, and headed out.
Tharkay had curled in close to Will's side, though the warm night did not require it, and Will was only too glad to put an arm around him and keep him there. "What in the world happened between you two?" Will finally asked, as they reached their car.
"I didn't come onto him, if that's what you're asking," Tharkay replied, the faintest hint of amusement in his tone.
"He wasn't your type," observed Will, and felt a warm surge of pride when Tharkay shook his head.
"No, I prefer them less willing to call me 'fag,'" Tharkay said, rolling his eyes, then leaned up to kiss Will's jaw. "But you're right, his hair was too dark, and he was rather too skinny."
At this, Will could only turn his head, to kiss Tharkay properly on the mouth.
When they broke the kiss, rather later than Will had intended, Tharkay shrugged. "He wanted to meet my girlfriend, I said I didn't have one, I'd brought my life partner, and I suppose he figured you looked like a paragon of heterosexuality. You know the rest."
"I do," Will agreed, and got in the passenger side of the car. As he fumbled with his seat belt, he said quietly, "I'm sorry the night ended that way, Tharkay."
Tharkay started the car. "Considering whose flat we were at, it certainly could've been worse. Besides," he added in a wry voice, pulling out onto the road, "it's not every day I have my honour defended."