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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.
DERP DERP DERP songs I like for Kay or Julius or Kay & Julius every character ever, because I should have one central place to put this. I always feel incredibly dumb posting these, ngh. DX
with heading
without heading
( it is easiest just to let this take over my life, okay )
with heading
without heading
( it is easiest just to let this take over my life, okay )
So entirely shameless, so even more so poorly written. Set sometime relatively soon after Archie has a seizure in front of Sebastian. I imagine Sebastian likes "Bobby Shaftoe" a lot when he's little, but that is probably a bit pepperjack cheese-y on my part.
( it's all Sean Lennon's fault )
( it's all Sean Lennon's fault )
Airplane shenanigans, because it's short enough that I feel like I have the energy to type it up. And then I'm gonna take a shower and make Boo watch Drag Race and eventually go to my ladyconcert and inevitably be disappointed that I didn't get to be there All Day like I could've been. ;-;
( I was on an airplane, that's why it got written )
( I was on an airplane, that's why it got written )
(no subject)
Jul. 12th, 2010 05:09 pmArchie's supposed to be about twelve here. This didn't really go the direction I wanted it to, so I'm not precisely happy with it, but, uh. Here it is.
( if william, then archie )
( if william, then archie )
The flat was silent when Archie woke. A note on his bedside table, in William's cramped handwriting, read Explained to Sebastian. Taking him to the park. Will pick up Chinese for dinner. Each one had its own line, like some perverse checklist; only the love, Wm scrawled at the bottom saved it from terseness to the point of insult; that, and the way William's voice echoed behind the written words, sedate but warm.
