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In the farverse, Kay dies in 1997? which is superweird to think about, the idea that they might have had cable for a while.
( it's another day of 'why am i even writing this' )
( it's another day of 'why am i even writing this' )
"Do I have to put the worm on the hook?" Sebastian asked, wrinkling his nose as he watched William bait his own line. William tried not to think how like the expression was to one of Archie's, the one that stated he was perfectly capable of doing something, just entirely unwilling.
If he was his own father, William would have answered yes, because every young boy ought to be able to bait a fish hook. But Sebastian was still unused to the life William had been raised to, and he wasn't William's boy in the first place. So William shook his head and reached out for Sebastian's fishing line, wiping the worm's innards on his jeans after he fitted the squirming creature to the hook, and he pretended that Sebastian didn't squeeze his eyes shut during the ordeal.
"Now," William told the boy, when he'd opened his eyes once more, "you have to cast it, like this."
He cocked his arm back, then whipped the rod forward so that the fishing line flew out over the lake, worm, hook, and sinker landing a ways away, marked only by the little red-and-white bobber floating on the surface of the water.
"And don't let go of the rod, all right, son?"
For a moment, his gut twisted within him; Sebastian wasn't his son, and he had no business calling him so, even if the endearment slipped out without any consideration for the matter. He referred to Patience's boys so, and never thought anything of it, but the matter of Sebastian's parentage hovered around the child like the shine on his hair, and that made it an entirely different situation.
Sebastian didn't seem to mind, however, or even to notice. He only nodded, biting down on his lower lip as he concentrated, his fingers tightening around the fishing pole until the flesh beneath his nails was white, and then cast his own line out into the pond. For all the boy's clumsiness, he succeeded admirably, and William tried not to feel as though he was overstepping some unspoken bound as he clapped a hand on his shoulder.
"Good work. Now we wait."
"All right," Sebastian said, and folded his hands in his lap.
-
"Uncle William!" came the shout, edged with some sharp concern. "Uncle William!"
William stretched and stood, his knees creaking a little with the effort. It was Sebastian, coming from the cornfield? Shading his eyes, he looked out to the long green stalks, but it was no good. Though Sebastian had grown in the last five years, he wasn't nearly tall enough to be seen through the leaves and tassels.
After a minute or two, he saw a flash of red hair, and then Sebastian emerged in his entirety,
If he was his own father, William would have answered yes, because every young boy ought to be able to bait a fish hook. But Sebastian was still unused to the life William had been raised to, and he wasn't William's boy in the first place. So William shook his head and reached out for Sebastian's fishing line, wiping the worm's innards on his jeans after he fitted the squirming creature to the hook, and he pretended that Sebastian didn't squeeze his eyes shut during the ordeal.
"Now," William told the boy, when he'd opened his eyes once more, "you have to cast it, like this."
He cocked his arm back, then whipped the rod forward so that the fishing line flew out over the lake, worm, hook, and sinker landing a ways away, marked only by the little red-and-white bobber floating on the surface of the water.
"And don't let go of the rod, all right, son?"
For a moment, his gut twisted within him; Sebastian wasn't his son, and he had no business calling him so, even if the endearment slipped out without any consideration for the matter. He referred to Patience's boys so, and never thought anything of it, but the matter of Sebastian's parentage hovered around the child like the shine on his hair, and that made it an entirely different situation.
Sebastian didn't seem to mind, however, or even to notice. He only nodded, biting down on his lower lip as he concentrated, his fingers tightening around the fishing pole until the flesh beneath his nails was white, and then cast his own line out into the pond. For all the boy's clumsiness, he succeeded admirably, and William tried not to feel as though he was overstepping some unspoken bound as he clapped a hand on his shoulder.
"Good work. Now we wait."
"All right," Sebastian said, and folded his hands in his lap.
-
"Uncle William!" came the shout, edged with some sharp concern. "Uncle William!"
William stretched and stood, his knees creaking a little with the effort. It was Sebastian, coming from the cornfield? Shading his eyes, he looked out to the long green stalks, but it was no good. Though Sebastian had grown in the last five years, he wasn't nearly tall enough to be seen through the leaves and tassels.
After a minute or two, he saw a flash of red hair, and then Sebastian emerged in his entirety,
When Sebastian arrived, it was not his clear blue eyes that gave William reason to suspect, nor the orange shock of hair hanging nearly into his eyes. The first twinge of wonderment came from the way Archie shifted in his chair as the car came up along the long drive. William caught the motion from the corner of his eye, looking out into the distance and thinking vaguely on his sister Jessie as he was, and frowned, glancing over at the man. Before he could ask Archie if something was wrong, he realized that Archie was still pretending to read his book and glancing up towards the vehicle, still a ways off.
Any other day, he would have assumed that the car was simply a traveling salesman and readied his gun, but Archie wouldn't have paid it any mind until it parked at the edge of the fence. This one, he was watching--and he didn't want William to know he was doing any such thing.
Sometimes William was unobservant, and he knew this. Years ago, when his little sister Patience tried to dye her hair into a beautiful platinum blonde like women in the pictures, he might not have realized what had brought about the streaked, spotted mess of curls piled on her head if not for his mother yelling fit to wake everyone in the house up early on a Saturday morning. Very often, William was stupid, something he knew to be an absolute truth. He need only look at one of the books in the parlor and try to decipher the lines of poetry that Archie happily devoured to prove it to any man alive. But he wasn't so slow a man that he couldn't figure out what was going on, at least in part.
Archie knew that car was coming, and whatever it was, he wasn't ready for it.
William first wondered if it was something about the military that had him nervous, for he could think of nothing that put Archie so on edge so quickly as discussion of the war. He hadn't reckoned the sight of a pretty young woman and a little boy with a patent interest in the dirt beneath his feet could have Archie so jumpy.
The boy was staying with them--for how long, his mother didn't say--and calling them Uncle William and Uncle Archie, and this was a surprise only to one of them. When she drove off and they walked the kid up the front steps of the porch, William sat back down and considered him. Sebastian. Sebastian--Kennedy? It stood to reason he was a relative of Archie's, considering that he wasn't perplexed by the sudden appearance of an eight year old boy.
William had met Archie's family, though, or had thought he had, all thoroughly Scottish and--as far as he could tell--confined to the British Isles. The obvious answer made itself known to him at that moment, but he dismissed it as preposterous. Perhaps Archie had some more distant relatives who were American. American and perhaps not so well-off as the Kennedys of Scotland were. Poor, American, and able to leave Archie wincing before they even arrived.
If there was some reason for him to be so skittish at the thought of that woman and her little boy, so much so that William had to nudge him into getting the kid something to drink, then he could lay the entire matter to rest. But though Archie's demons seemed many and sometimes inexplicable, the fact that he did not tell William that they were taking in a stray still needled at him. Archie at least made the pretense of getting William's opinion on a new cat, a boughten one, even though they both knew William would never say no--especially not now that Archie had made his last birthday present a hound. That he'd assume William wouldn't mind a kid around without question was a difficult fact to reconcile.
And so William studied Sebastian when he came back out, glancing down at his woodwork and back over to the boy. He held a glass of iced tea in both hands, sipping it like he might not get another crack at the supply if he gulped it down, and stared out into the distance. His hair matched Archie's in shade, if not in texture, and his eyes were the right blue. The way he moved wasn't the same, but--as far as William knew--they'd never seen each other before.
Left without a better explanation, William suspected he would have to consider the possibility that this boy was Archie's.
Any other day, he would have assumed that the car was simply a traveling salesman and readied his gun, but Archie wouldn't have paid it any mind until it parked at the edge of the fence. This one, he was watching--and he didn't want William to know he was doing any such thing.
Sometimes William was unobservant, and he knew this. Years ago, when his little sister Patience tried to dye her hair into a beautiful platinum blonde like women in the pictures, he might not have realized what had brought about the streaked, spotted mess of curls piled on her head if not for his mother yelling fit to wake everyone in the house up early on a Saturday morning. Very often, William was stupid, something he knew to be an absolute truth. He need only look at one of the books in the parlor and try to decipher the lines of poetry that Archie happily devoured to prove it to any man alive. But he wasn't so slow a man that he couldn't figure out what was going on, at least in part.
Archie knew that car was coming, and whatever it was, he wasn't ready for it.
William first wondered if it was something about the military that had him nervous, for he could think of nothing that put Archie so on edge so quickly as discussion of the war. He hadn't reckoned the sight of a pretty young woman and a little boy with a patent interest in the dirt beneath his feet could have Archie so jumpy.
The boy was staying with them--for how long, his mother didn't say--and calling them Uncle William and Uncle Archie, and this was a surprise only to one of them. When she drove off and they walked the kid up the front steps of the porch, William sat back down and considered him. Sebastian. Sebastian--Kennedy? It stood to reason he was a relative of Archie's, considering that he wasn't perplexed by the sudden appearance of an eight year old boy.
William had met Archie's family, though, or had thought he had, all thoroughly Scottish and--as far as he could tell--confined to the British Isles. The obvious answer made itself known to him at that moment, but he dismissed it as preposterous. Perhaps Archie had some more distant relatives who were American. American and perhaps not so well-off as the Kennedys of Scotland were. Poor, American, and able to leave Archie wincing before they even arrived.
If there was some reason for him to be so skittish at the thought of that woman and her little boy, so much so that William had to nudge him into getting the kid something to drink, then he could lay the entire matter to rest. But though Archie's demons seemed many and sometimes inexplicable, the fact that he did not tell William that they were taking in a stray still needled at him. Archie at least made the pretense of getting William's opinion on a new cat, a boughten one, even though they both knew William would never say no--especially not now that Archie had made his last birthday present a hound. That he'd assume William wouldn't mind a kid around without question was a difficult fact to reconcile.
And so William studied Sebastian when he came back out, glancing down at his woodwork and back over to the boy. He held a glass of iced tea in both hands, sipping it like he might not get another crack at the supply if he gulped it down, and stared out into the distance. His hair matched Archie's in shade, if not in texture, and his eyes were the right blue. The way he moved wasn't the same, but--as far as William knew--they'd never seen each other before.
Left without a better explanation, William suspected he would have to consider the possibility that this boy was Archie's.
"careen"
Tharkay heard the front door open and immediately hit save on the article he was writing, bounding out of his study and over to the front hall; the desire was overwhelming to see whether everyone who had left that morning had come home in one piece.
And, it seemed, they had--unsurprising, for he'd have gotten a call if anything terrible had happened. George and Martha both looked faintly starry-eyed, calling their hello, Tharkay!s to him before dashing upstairs to their bedrooms. Will was putting up a good front, but his eyes betrayed how tired he was. Tharkay couldn't help thinking of Will's gaze as the parenting equivalent of the thousand-yard stare and decided he'd take pity on him. Taking his husband's hand, Tharkay pulled him into the lounge and bade him sit down on the sofa. "Was it that bad, then?"
"I think I watched my life flash before my eyes three times today," Will answered, puffing out a long breath. "You may take them driving, next time."
Tharkay heard the front door open and immediately hit save on the article he was writing, bounding out of his study and over to the front hall; the desire was overwhelming to see whether everyone who had left that morning had come home in one piece.
And, it seemed, they had--unsurprising, for he'd have gotten a call if anything terrible had happened. George and Martha both looked faintly starry-eyed, calling their hello, Tharkay!s to him before dashing upstairs to their bedrooms. Will was putting up a good front, but his eyes betrayed how tired he was. Tharkay couldn't help thinking of Will's gaze as the parenting equivalent of the thousand-yard stare and decided he'd take pity on him. Taking his husband's hand, Tharkay pulled him into the lounge and bade him sit down on the sofa. "Was it that bad, then?"
"I think I watched my life flash before my eyes three times today," Will answered, puffing out a long breath. "You may take them driving, next time."
The noun form of the word "keep" just makes me want a Woolfverse/ASOIAF crossover (Will would be the patriStark, ala Ned, and Tharkay? idk, something exciting, maybe an Arryn just so he can have a falcon crest, and it wouldn't be unlikely for him and Will to make an alliance, and plus, he'd be living way the hell up in the mountains), but I think that's more than I can do when I'm already half-falling-asleep. :| so we'll use the verb form of the word, I suppose.
( I have no idea what I'm gonna write here. )
Christ, I'm so incredibly out of practice, that was shit. It probably doesn't help that I'm really tired, but that was shit. I'm sorry, I'll try better tomorrow.
( I have no idea what I'm gonna write here. )
Christ, I'm so incredibly out of practice, that was shit. It probably doesn't help that I'm really tired, but that was shit. I'm sorry, I'll try better tomorrow.
...Did I seriously just write some kind of Withnail & I five times fic? Seriously? What the fuck is my life.
( five times Withnail sips wine from a Webley & Scott )
( five times Withnail sips wine from a Webley & Scott )
I still have to write the stuff that comes before this point, where Julius is an utter ass about "why don't I just sit at the typewriter, that won't be taxing for me, I can get up, c'mon, c'mon" type things ever since coming out of the hospital. Until then, Kay snapping at him, post-heart attack. IT SEEMED LIKE A REALLY GOOD IDEA AT THE TIME, IDK.
( maw maw maw )
( maw maw maw )
Everything I wrote is terrible, why did I think any of it was a good idea, I am a terrible writer with no good ideas.
Et cetera.
( because I am allowed to be facetious sometimes )
Et cetera.
( because I am allowed to be facetious sometimes )
Being in a hospital makes me want to write about people being in hospitals. Doesn't help that I'm covering various inpatient units. >> Lots of extremely small pieces.
"I want nothing so much as you home with me," Will told Tharkay, kissing his fingertips, where the tape from the IV could not dull the feeling of Will's lips on his skin. "And I know you will be soon."
-
For a moment, the dazed, hollow expression cleared from her eyes. Julius could see the spark of recognition return once more to her gaze, alighting on him and filling him with a wary joy; it will not last, he told himself, but the thought was hard to keep in mind when Kay was looking at him with such fondness. Her voice wavering, she murmured, "Jules?"
She didn't say anything else when he answered, "Yes, my dear. I'm here," only stared at him with tears in her eyes until her wits faded again.
He resolved to remember to tell her that he loved her, the next time she knew him enough to react with something other than a blank glance. But she did not again emerge, as a ship from the fog, and died six weeks later.
-
"They won't let you up for love or money," Archie told William, willing levity into his voice. "I already asked if I could help you up when you needed it, and they said no. So you might as well lie back and listen to me talk for now."
-
"You had me worried there," Kay informed him, sounding like she was trying to keep her voice from wobbling and failing miserably. Julius longed to hold more than her hand just then, and damn the monitors keeping him from doing it. "I thought I'd have to start thinking up my own ways out of plot holes."
-
Will came into the room tentatively, as though Tharkay would be at all unhappy to see him, holding a single white rose in a narrow vase. Setting it on the tray next to Tharkay's bed, Will leaned down to brush a kiss over his forehead. "Good morning. How have you been?"
Terribly lonely, Tharkay wanted to tell him. Longing to fall asleep next to you, not a heart monitor. Instead, he reached for Will's hand the moment he pulled up a chair and said lightly, "Much better now you're here. They wouldn't let me call you last night."
"Whyever not?" Will asked, clearly affronted, and so obvious about it that Tharkay's heart swelled with pleasure at his expression. Everything else could be the past if only Will would be indignant on his behalf just now. "They must know I'd have taken your call."
"You will have to tell them that," Tharkay said, stroking Will's fingers. "They told me three in the morning was too late for telephoning anyone, husbands included."
"I want nothing so much as you home with me," Will told Tharkay, kissing his fingertips, where the tape from the IV could not dull the feeling of Will's lips on his skin. "And I know you will be soon."
-
For a moment, the dazed, hollow expression cleared from her eyes. Julius could see the spark of recognition return once more to her gaze, alighting on him and filling him with a wary joy; it will not last, he told himself, but the thought was hard to keep in mind when Kay was looking at him with such fondness. Her voice wavering, she murmured, "Jules?"
She didn't say anything else when he answered, "Yes, my dear. I'm here," only stared at him with tears in her eyes until her wits faded again.
He resolved to remember to tell her that he loved her, the next time she knew him enough to react with something other than a blank glance. But she did not again emerge, as a ship from the fog, and died six weeks later.
-
"They won't let you up for love or money," Archie told William, willing levity into his voice. "I already asked if I could help you up when you needed it, and they said no. So you might as well lie back and listen to me talk for now."
-
"You had me worried there," Kay informed him, sounding like she was trying to keep her voice from wobbling and failing miserably. Julius longed to hold more than her hand just then, and damn the monitors keeping him from doing it. "I thought I'd have to start thinking up my own ways out of plot holes."
-
Will came into the room tentatively, as though Tharkay would be at all unhappy to see him, holding a single white rose in a narrow vase. Setting it on the tray next to Tharkay's bed, Will leaned down to brush a kiss over his forehead. "Good morning. How have you been?"
Terribly lonely, Tharkay wanted to tell him. Longing to fall asleep next to you, not a heart monitor. Instead, he reached for Will's hand the moment he pulled up a chair and said lightly, "Much better now you're here. They wouldn't let me call you last night."
"Whyever not?" Will asked, clearly affronted, and so obvious about it that Tharkay's heart swelled with pleasure at his expression. Everything else could be the past if only Will would be indignant on his behalf just now. "They must know I'd have taken your call."
"You will have to tell them that," Tharkay said, stroking Will's fingers. "They told me three in the morning was too late for telephoning anyone, husbands included."
Background for those unfamiliar with the Farverse: Kay and Julius Eaton are science fiction writers, based off real-life writers C.L. Moore and Henry Kuttner and stolen wholesale from the Star Trek: Deep Space 9 episode "Far Beyond the Stars." This story is set in 1949, about five months after they got married; they're at Julius' father's home in England for a visit. YOU PROBABLY DON'T NEED ALL THAT INFO, but it's the background you'd be going in with if you'd read the other stories in the series. ♥
( take me home tonight )
( take me home tonight )
