fanfic and original writing by ar (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
witticaster) wrote2010-07-12 11:01 pm
witticaster) wrote2010-07-12 11:01 pm
0245
Sillyyyyyyy.
Archie woke feeling quite warm, and wondering when his bed had grown so very large; he was splayed as usual, but where his foot usually dangled over the side of his mattress, it was flat on the bed proper. His inclination to come up from sleep lazily evaporate in moments when he realized why the bed was so warm--from the heat emanating from the body of a man sleeping next to him--and he scrambled into a sitting position, debating whether it would be better to attempt to run very far away or to attempt to sneak out to the nearest phone in the man's house and very quietly telephone the police. This seemed a very clear case of kidnapping, and Archie was not about to risk the sleeping man's wrath by waking him and demanding to know why he was being ransomed.
Unfortunately, he had jostled the bed too much as he sat up; the sleeping man stretched out a broad hand toward Archie, mumbling in an English accent, "Quit moving around, Archie, you said you didn't have work until the afternoon."
He remained quiet, but shrank back from the reaching hand; that didn't have quite the effect Archie had hoped for. Rather than falling back to sleep, the man's eyes opened, huge and blue, and upon seeing Archie crouched on the other end of the bed, had much the same reaction that Archie had moments before.
"Christ," he said, off the bed and at the wall opposite Archie in seconds flat. He looked far more surprised than a kidnapper rightfully should be, and was breathing a little heavily, like people did when they were frightened suddenly. "Archie, is that you?"
Archie crossed his arms and, feeling rather daring, said, "You're the one who kidnapped me."
"I didn't--look, ah," he said, looking down at himself--broad, hairy chest, arms made thick with muscle, and pyjama pants--and hurriedly going over to a chest of drawers. He pulled out a t-shirt and began to speak again as he put it on, his voice muffled by the fabric. "I didn't kidnap you. My name's William Bush, and I don't mean you any harm. I swear it."
He came toward Archie and extended his hand, and Archie pretended that he hadn't just flinched at the movement (for what if this Mr. Bush tried to hit him?). As they shook hands, Archie replied, "And I'm Archie Kennedy."
"I know," Mr. Bush said, a crooked little smile crossing his face briefly, and Archie remembered that Mr. Bush had called him by the name when he'd woken. "You're my--well. Are, uh, are you hungry?"
Archie nodded, and found himself led to the kitchen and sat down amid several cats. Mr. Bush shooed them off the table, and they began to congregate around Archie's chair, weaving through his ankles and rubbing their heads against his shins. "I like your cats, Mr. Bush," Archie declared, while watching the man in question pulling out eggs from the refrigerator.
"Not mine," Mr. Bush replied, sounding as though he'd learned the answer by rote and was thinking of other things at that moment. "And please call me William, Mr. Bush is what they called my dad."
"Oh. All right, William." It felt very strange to say; Archie could count on one hand the number of adults he was allowed to call by their given names. "If you didn't kidnap me, why am I here?"
William stopped where he stood, stirring eggs and milk together in a bowl; evidently, he hadn't expected that question. Clearing his throat, he mumbled a half-hearted, "You're just staying at my place for the day. It's not important."
"My mum and dad might be worried about me," Archie said, though he wasn't sure that was true. "Especially since you're new to Girvan."
"We're not in Girvan." William's back was to him, he couldn't see what kind of expression he was wearing. "We're in Dartmouth."
"Where's Dartmouth?"
"Southern coast of England--about as far as you can get from Girvan, staying on the same island." At this, William turned round to give Archie a serious look, his eyebrows furrowing. "I know this sounds dodgy, but it'd be easier for both of us if you just--just trust me, all right? We can do anything you want, all day, and tomorrow, things will be back to normal."
He looked as though he'd be much more comfortable if Archie stopped asking questions, but the thought of not knowing why he was there was bothersome. It seemed his duty to make absolutely sure he had not been kidnapped, even if William was being very kind to him and allowing him breakfast. Archie asked slowly, "Does that mean you know why I'm here? Because if you do, I think you should tell me."
"All right, all right." William sighed. "Let's get breakfast on the table first, though. Do you want toast with your eggs?"
This was a deal Archie could agree to; his stomach was beginning to growl. "Yes please. Do you have any smoked salmon?"
The perplexed expression on William's face answered the question well before he replied, "Afraid not. Why?"
"No reason." If there wasn't any, it would surely be rude to mention that it was what he liked best with scrambled eggs, which William had doled out onto two plates, along with a slice of buttered toast each. The food looked very good anyway, just as it was.
After he'd taken several bites (which proved that William could indeed cook scrambled eggs nicely), Archie set down his fork and regarded his tablemate, sitting across the table. "So why is it I'm here?"
William looked down at his own plate, his curly hair falling forward over his brow, and puffed out a breath of air. "If I tell you," he said, "you need to promise not to--to blow up, all right?"
"All right," Archie agreed.
With an embarrassed sort of expression on his face, and his eyes firmly on the plate of food before him, William cleared his throat once more. "You're, uh. My boyfriend." Before Archie could say anything--before he had quite processed the information, for that matter--William put his hands up in a defensive position and added quickly, "Not now, of course, nothing like that, but in the future--these are your cats. We live together."
Archie frowned, swallowing his current bite of toast. "But--wait, you're a boy."
"Well, yes." William shifted in his chair, but said nothing more.
"But that means I'm a fai--" and he cut himself short, realizing at the very last moment that that would mean calling William a fairy, too. And if this was all some kind of a ruse to throw Archie off the kidnapper thing (though he wanted to believe it wasn't), calling William a name wouldn't help his case much at all. William didn't say anything, which made it easier for Archie to pretend that he hadn't said anything. After several moments of poking his remaining eggs around the plate with a fork, Archie mumbled, "I thought I'd grow up and marry a girl."
"I'm sorry," William said, and Archie couldn't quite tell from his tone if he was really sad about it or not. "I know I'm not much of a consolation prize."
And then it dawned on him that he must've made it sound like he thought William was ugly, perhaps, or boring, of which neither were true, even if he looked old enough to be someone's dad, not someone's boyfriend. "No, you're very nice," Archie told him, "only..."
He wasn't sure how to explain, how the girls in his class always giggled behind their hands about crushes, and the way Margie teased him about whether he had any girlfriends yet; he knew he was supposed to like girls, and he supposed he did, only--wouldn't it be just as nice to go to the cinema with Robbie Underwood and hold his hand?
Archie woke feeling quite warm, and wondering when his bed had grown so very large; he was splayed as usual, but where his foot usually dangled over the side of his mattress, it was flat on the bed proper. His inclination to come up from sleep lazily evaporate in moments when he realized why the bed was so warm--from the heat emanating from the body of a man sleeping next to him--and he scrambled into a sitting position, debating whether it would be better to attempt to run very far away or to attempt to sneak out to the nearest phone in the man's house and very quietly telephone the police. This seemed a very clear case of kidnapping, and Archie was not about to risk the sleeping man's wrath by waking him and demanding to know why he was being ransomed.
Unfortunately, he had jostled the bed too much as he sat up; the sleeping man stretched out a broad hand toward Archie, mumbling in an English accent, "Quit moving around, Archie, you said you didn't have work until the afternoon."
He remained quiet, but shrank back from the reaching hand; that didn't have quite the effect Archie had hoped for. Rather than falling back to sleep, the man's eyes opened, huge and blue, and upon seeing Archie crouched on the other end of the bed, had much the same reaction that Archie had moments before.
"Christ," he said, off the bed and at the wall opposite Archie in seconds flat. He looked far more surprised than a kidnapper rightfully should be, and was breathing a little heavily, like people did when they were frightened suddenly. "Archie, is that you?"
Archie crossed his arms and, feeling rather daring, said, "You're the one who kidnapped me."
"I didn't--look, ah," he said, looking down at himself--broad, hairy chest, arms made thick with muscle, and pyjama pants--and hurriedly going over to a chest of drawers. He pulled out a t-shirt and began to speak again as he put it on, his voice muffled by the fabric. "I didn't kidnap you. My name's William Bush, and I don't mean you any harm. I swear it."
He came toward Archie and extended his hand, and Archie pretended that he hadn't just flinched at the movement (for what if this Mr. Bush tried to hit him?). As they shook hands, Archie replied, "And I'm Archie Kennedy."
"I know," Mr. Bush said, a crooked little smile crossing his face briefly, and Archie remembered that Mr. Bush had called him by the name when he'd woken. "You're my--well. Are, uh, are you hungry?"
Archie nodded, and found himself led to the kitchen and sat down amid several cats. Mr. Bush shooed them off the table, and they began to congregate around Archie's chair, weaving through his ankles and rubbing their heads against his shins. "I like your cats, Mr. Bush," Archie declared, while watching the man in question pulling out eggs from the refrigerator.
"Not mine," Mr. Bush replied, sounding as though he'd learned the answer by rote and was thinking of other things at that moment. "And please call me William, Mr. Bush is what they called my dad."
"Oh. All right, William." It felt very strange to say; Archie could count on one hand the number of adults he was allowed to call by their given names. "If you didn't kidnap me, why am I here?"
William stopped where he stood, stirring eggs and milk together in a bowl; evidently, he hadn't expected that question. Clearing his throat, he mumbled a half-hearted, "You're just staying at my place for the day. It's not important."
"My mum and dad might be worried about me," Archie said, though he wasn't sure that was true. "Especially since you're new to Girvan."
"We're not in Girvan." William's back was to him, he couldn't see what kind of expression he was wearing. "We're in Dartmouth."
"Where's Dartmouth?"
"Southern coast of England--about as far as you can get from Girvan, staying on the same island." At this, William turned round to give Archie a serious look, his eyebrows furrowing. "I know this sounds dodgy, but it'd be easier for both of us if you just--just trust me, all right? We can do anything you want, all day, and tomorrow, things will be back to normal."
He looked as though he'd be much more comfortable if Archie stopped asking questions, but the thought of not knowing why he was there was bothersome. It seemed his duty to make absolutely sure he had not been kidnapped, even if William was being very kind to him and allowing him breakfast. Archie asked slowly, "Does that mean you know why I'm here? Because if you do, I think you should tell me."
"All right, all right." William sighed. "Let's get breakfast on the table first, though. Do you want toast with your eggs?"
This was a deal Archie could agree to; his stomach was beginning to growl. "Yes please. Do you have any smoked salmon?"
The perplexed expression on William's face answered the question well before he replied, "Afraid not. Why?"
"No reason." If there wasn't any, it would surely be rude to mention that it was what he liked best with scrambled eggs, which William had doled out onto two plates, along with a slice of buttered toast each. The food looked very good anyway, just as it was.
After he'd taken several bites (which proved that William could indeed cook scrambled eggs nicely), Archie set down his fork and regarded his tablemate, sitting across the table. "So why is it I'm here?"
William looked down at his own plate, his curly hair falling forward over his brow, and puffed out a breath of air. "If I tell you," he said, "you need to promise not to--to blow up, all right?"
"All right," Archie agreed.
With an embarrassed sort of expression on his face, and his eyes firmly on the plate of food before him, William cleared his throat once more. "You're, uh. My boyfriend." Before Archie could say anything--before he had quite processed the information, for that matter--William put his hands up in a defensive position and added quickly, "Not now, of course, nothing like that, but in the future--these are your cats. We live together."
Archie frowned, swallowing his current bite of toast. "But--wait, you're a boy."
"Well, yes." William shifted in his chair, but said nothing more.
"But that means I'm a fai--" and he cut himself short, realizing at the very last moment that that would mean calling William a fairy, too. And if this was all some kind of a ruse to throw Archie off the kidnapper thing (though he wanted to believe it wasn't), calling William a name wouldn't help his case much at all. William didn't say anything, which made it easier for Archie to pretend that he hadn't said anything. After several moments of poking his remaining eggs around the plate with a fork, Archie mumbled, "I thought I'd grow up and marry a girl."
"I'm sorry," William said, and Archie couldn't quite tell from his tone if he was really sad about it or not. "I know I'm not much of a consolation prize."
And then it dawned on him that he must've made it sound like he thought William was ugly, perhaps, or boring, of which neither were true, even if he looked old enough to be someone's dad, not someone's boyfriend. "No, you're very nice," Archie told him, "only..."
He wasn't sure how to explain, how the girls in his class always giggled behind their hands about crushes, and the way Margie teased him about whether he had any girlfriends yet; he knew he was supposed to like girls, and he supposed he did, only--wouldn't it be just as nice to go to the cinema with Robbie Underwood and hold his hand?