"Port of Call" by inlovewithnight- Hornblower
TITLE: Port of Call
AUTHOR: inlovewithnight
CHARACTERS: Horatio/Archie
RATING: PG-13, I think?
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, no profit made.
CHALLENGE PROMPT: First times
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Set between the first and second set of movies. Many thanks to romanticalgirl for the beta.
Archie traced his finger through the ring of water the bottle had left on the table, drawing idle patterns that quickly vanished into the dry, thirsty Mediterranean air. He'd waited long enough, most likely. Some message must have been marred or lost, somewhere along the way, or luck had simply gone sour, but it seemed that he would not find himself sharing the next bottle with his intended companion, which left him rather at loose ends for the night. He wasn't entirely certain that the contents of his pocket would stretch to both bottle and company, so long as the bloody Navy declined to come through with what it owed him. God bless the Crown and curse the Admiralty, penny-pinching bastards that they were--
"Lieutenant Kennedy?"
He glanced up, startled to see a pale young shadow of a midshipman, all eyes and teeth and flat dark hair, sweating and shaking in his jacket. "Yes?"
"Midshipman Smithee of the Cynthia, sir," the boy said, appearing to actually sway forward with a particularly vigorous fit of nerves. "Lieutenant Hornblower sends his compliments and...er...his apologies for being delayed...that is, the Captain required his presence and he was unable..."
Smithee's eyes were all but crossing with his effort to remember whatever small speech Horatio had drilled into his head, but it was clearly a lost cause. Archie took pity on the boy. "Take a breath, please, Mr. Smithee. All right. Please give Mr. Hornblower my respects and assure him it's quite all right and I'm sure our paths will cross again, if not at the next port than the one after." He smiled as he said it, flourishing as much nonchalance as he could muster to mask his disappointment. This was the first time their ships had met in port since their assignments diverged out of Indefatigable, eleven months past. There was no reason to hope that the next such luck would arrive any sooner.
"My apologies, sir," the boy said, a sudden flush chasing the pallor from his cheeks. "I was unclear. Mr. Hornblower is coming, he's only delayed. I was meant to get here faster and tell you, but I got a bit turned around, and misremembered the name of the inn, and--"
Archie was struck by a sudden hunch that Mr. Smithee was far from Horatio's favorite middy aboard Cynthia. "Ah. I see. Very well, thank you." He paused for a moment, watching the boy's cheeks fade to something resembling a normal color. "Do you think you'll be able to find your way back to the docks all right?"
The furious blush returned, redoubled. "Yes, sir."
"I'm glad to hear it. Carry on, then." Not without a smile, Archie dismissed the boy and waved for that second bottle. So the evening wasn't entirely lost after all, though it was far too early to know if it was won. Not all reunions were happy, after all.
**
Watered as it was, the second bottle was a fine companion for however long it was between Smithee's departure and Horatio's appearance at the door; Archie had neglected to check his watch, but the occupants of the other end of the table had turned over twice and he'd declined the services of three rather pretty girls (each prettier than the last, come to think of it, which might be rather linked to the level in the bottle if one was inclined to a cynical view, which Archie was not) by the time a familiar shadow fell over him and an equally familiar voice said "Mr. Kennedy. It is good to see you again."
The formality was no less than Archie had expected, if a bit more than he'd hoped for. But when he looked up he saw that Horatio's eyes were bright with pleasure and affection, and a hint of a smile lurked at the edges of the regulation stern slant of his mouth.
"Mr. Hornblower," Archie replied, rising to his feet and clasping Horatio's hand in what was meant as a smooth sequence of gestures but emerged a bit disjointed as his various parts chose to move at different speeds. "It is indeed...good to be seen."
Horatio's mouth quirked up on one side, eyes narrowing as he contained his laughter. "I see you've taken advantage of my tardiness."
"I will allow that you have some catching up to do." The lines around Horatio's eyes deepened as his smile grew, but still he didn't quite laugh; Archie recognized the extra degree of officer's reserve, and supposed that he had developed something similar, though both he himself and his captain were less than wholly inclined to keep strict observance of such things. That would never be the case with Horatio, whomever he served, and Archie knew him well enough to know it.
Horatio held his hat in his hands, fingers sliding restlessly along the brim. Archie found himself staring for a moment, mesmerized by the motion, the length and grace of the digits, familiar memories called up so easily by the sight. Too close to the shore, he thought distantly, forcing his eyes to Horatio's face again. Mind the rocks, for God's sake, Kennedy.
Horatio's eyebrows rose, an anxious question flashing in his eyes, and Archie realized they'd been standing like a pair of ninnies for an ungainly long moment. "Please. Sit," he said, dropping into his own chair by way of demonstration.
Horatio sat down more slowly, still rolling the hat in his hands restlessly, as if testing its shape and its surface, checking for permanence. Many of his motions carried the same edge, as he shifted in his seat, reached for glass and bottle, glanced about the room and back at the door and then quickly, uncertainly, at Archie. Not the gangly, frightened near-child from Justinian, but not Pellew's guns-blazing hard-charging bulldog, either; the two uneasily blending and smoothing into the final product, officer and man, under another (less indulgent?) captain's hand.
Archie blinked hard against the drink in his veins and wondered why, precisely, his drunken self was so bloody determined to fancy itself a poet.
"Finish your glass, Mr. Hornblower," he said, shaking his head as if that had a prayer of clearing it when he'd already poured another drink himself. "And tell me what glory you've brought on yourself since last we met."
**
First conversations after a long absence were never really easy or smooth, even for such friends as they. Horatio had become a bit more guarded, even defensive, under a captain who, Archie quickly gathered, expected an explanation and a defense of the ideas that his junior lieutenant would spout from nowhere and without warning. Not that Captain Tilly turned down any of those ideas when they were right, and Horatio's usually were. Still, being expected to keep his place and justify himself required something different from Horatio than had been the case on Indefatigable, and he had changed accordingly.
In return he seemed slightly bemused, if not startled, by Archie's own changes, which Archie's drunken poetical bent didn't hesitate to call a blossoming under a captain who didn't give a damn for pomp and polish, who wanted active minds and strong opinions and got them from all his men. "I don't know how I'll go back to serving under someone who leads strictly by the book," Archie said, pouring the last of the bottle into Horatio's cup and putting the coda onto his story of their last engagement, and Captain Weynan's broken leg that had him on his way back to England and his crew cooling their heels waiting for new ships. "Felt like a proper sailor on that ship."
"I'm sure you'll do as well on any other," Horatio murmured, blinking slowly at his glass. "You're as proper an officer as I've ever seen, Archie."
It was the first time Horatio had said his name tonight, in their hours of conversation, the first time Archie had heard it in Horatio's voice in nearly a year, and he found it left him unbalanced for a moment, head too aswirl to properly react.
Horatio lifted his glass, and Archie's eyes settled on his throat as he drank, and then his mouth, and he realized that a proper reaction was quite unlikely now, if it had ever been possible tonight.
"Does your ship require you by dawn?" he said, still shamefully unable to tear his eyes from Horatio's lips. "Because I suspect you may be unable to find your way to the dock, Horatio."
"I suspect you may be right," Horatio said, his voice a low dark rumble above the glass. "May I trouble you further tonight, Archie?"
Archie only nodded, uncertain if his control wouldn't slip and betray too much with the simple words it's no trouble at all.
**
Horatio's lips were dry, chapped by sun and wind, rough against Archie's skin until he had kissed them softer and swollen. Horatio's tongue tasted of the sweet drink from the bottle they had shared, passing back and forth with the stories that built the foundation for this, relaid the ground between them that had grown uncertain in the last eleven months, but had so quickly proven to be much the same after all.
Still the two of them, even changed. Still able to understand each other under all that difference. Still wanting this, hungry for it, craving. Needing.
Horatio's hands were rough and calloused and warm against Archie's skin, too impatient to be gentle and thank God for it. Horatio's body was harder, thicker, muscles settling and broadening on his frame.
Horatio's breath was hot, broken, choppy with choked-off words. His skin was sweat-slick and warm, his muscles tense and trembling and then relaxed into languid stillness as his heart slowed from a race to the steady, even pulse of slumber.
Archie supposed that all of that was true of him as well, from the other side, but there was no need to ask, and no time to get an answer before he was asleep as well.
**
They dressed quietly in the morning, falling into old patterns of assisting one another quickly, easily, without request or direction.
Horatio's hand curved around Archie's jaw and he leaned in until their foreheads were pressed together, their eyes closed, breathing one another in.
"We'll meet again, Horatio," Archie said, smiling and brushing his fingers over Horatio's mouth. "It can only be easier the second time."
That wasn't true, as this was the second time they had to say goodbye, but Horatio gave a gallant effort as he pulled away. "Perhaps our next reunion will be in Portsmouth. The Admiralty may see fit to have us serve together for a third time."
"With any luck," Archie said, opening the door. "Third time lucky, don't they say?"
AUTHOR: inlovewithnight
CHARACTERS: Horatio/Archie
RATING: PG-13, I think?
DISCLAIMER: Not mine, no profit made.
CHALLENGE PROMPT: First times
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Set between the first and second set of movies. Many thanks to romanticalgirl for the beta.
Archie traced his finger through the ring of water the bottle had left on the table, drawing idle patterns that quickly vanished into the dry, thirsty Mediterranean air. He'd waited long enough, most likely. Some message must have been marred or lost, somewhere along the way, or luck had simply gone sour, but it seemed that he would not find himself sharing the next bottle with his intended companion, which left him rather at loose ends for the night. He wasn't entirely certain that the contents of his pocket would stretch to both bottle and company, so long as the bloody Navy declined to come through with what it owed him. God bless the Crown and curse the Admiralty, penny-pinching bastards that they were--
"Lieutenant Kennedy?"
He glanced up, startled to see a pale young shadow of a midshipman, all eyes and teeth and flat dark hair, sweating and shaking in his jacket. "Yes?"
"Midshipman Smithee of the Cynthia, sir," the boy said, appearing to actually sway forward with a particularly vigorous fit of nerves. "Lieutenant Hornblower sends his compliments and...er...his apologies for being delayed...that is, the Captain required his presence and he was unable..."
Smithee's eyes were all but crossing with his effort to remember whatever small speech Horatio had drilled into his head, but it was clearly a lost cause. Archie took pity on the boy. "Take a breath, please, Mr. Smithee. All right. Please give Mr. Hornblower my respects and assure him it's quite all right and I'm sure our paths will cross again, if not at the next port than the one after." He smiled as he said it, flourishing as much nonchalance as he could muster to mask his disappointment. This was the first time their ships had met in port since their assignments diverged out of Indefatigable, eleven months past. There was no reason to hope that the next such luck would arrive any sooner.
"My apologies, sir," the boy said, a sudden flush chasing the pallor from his cheeks. "I was unclear. Mr. Hornblower is coming, he's only delayed. I was meant to get here faster and tell you, but I got a bit turned around, and misremembered the name of the inn, and--"
Archie was struck by a sudden hunch that Mr. Smithee was far from Horatio's favorite middy aboard Cynthia. "Ah. I see. Very well, thank you." He paused for a moment, watching the boy's cheeks fade to something resembling a normal color. "Do you think you'll be able to find your way back to the docks all right?"
The furious blush returned, redoubled. "Yes, sir."
"I'm glad to hear it. Carry on, then." Not without a smile, Archie dismissed the boy and waved for that second bottle. So the evening wasn't entirely lost after all, though it was far too early to know if it was won. Not all reunions were happy, after all.
**
Watered as it was, the second bottle was a fine companion for however long it was between Smithee's departure and Horatio's appearance at the door; Archie had neglected to check his watch, but the occupants of the other end of the table had turned over twice and he'd declined the services of three rather pretty girls (each prettier than the last, come to think of it, which might be rather linked to the level in the bottle if one was inclined to a cynical view, which Archie was not) by the time a familiar shadow fell over him and an equally familiar voice said "Mr. Kennedy. It is good to see you again."
The formality was no less than Archie had expected, if a bit more than he'd hoped for. But when he looked up he saw that Horatio's eyes were bright with pleasure and affection, and a hint of a smile lurked at the edges of the regulation stern slant of his mouth.
"Mr. Hornblower," Archie replied, rising to his feet and clasping Horatio's hand in what was meant as a smooth sequence of gestures but emerged a bit disjointed as his various parts chose to move at different speeds. "It is indeed...good to be seen."
Horatio's mouth quirked up on one side, eyes narrowing as he contained his laughter. "I see you've taken advantage of my tardiness."
"I will allow that you have some catching up to do." The lines around Horatio's eyes deepened as his smile grew, but still he didn't quite laugh; Archie recognized the extra degree of officer's reserve, and supposed that he had developed something similar, though both he himself and his captain were less than wholly inclined to keep strict observance of such things. That would never be the case with Horatio, whomever he served, and Archie knew him well enough to know it.
Horatio held his hat in his hands, fingers sliding restlessly along the brim. Archie found himself staring for a moment, mesmerized by the motion, the length and grace of the digits, familiar memories called up so easily by the sight. Too close to the shore, he thought distantly, forcing his eyes to Horatio's face again. Mind the rocks, for God's sake, Kennedy.
Horatio's eyebrows rose, an anxious question flashing in his eyes, and Archie realized they'd been standing like a pair of ninnies for an ungainly long moment. "Please. Sit," he said, dropping into his own chair by way of demonstration.
Horatio sat down more slowly, still rolling the hat in his hands restlessly, as if testing its shape and its surface, checking for permanence. Many of his motions carried the same edge, as he shifted in his seat, reached for glass and bottle, glanced about the room and back at the door and then quickly, uncertainly, at Archie. Not the gangly, frightened near-child from Justinian, but not Pellew's guns-blazing hard-charging bulldog, either; the two uneasily blending and smoothing into the final product, officer and man, under another (less indulgent?) captain's hand.
Archie blinked hard against the drink in his veins and wondered why, precisely, his drunken self was so bloody determined to fancy itself a poet.
"Finish your glass, Mr. Hornblower," he said, shaking his head as if that had a prayer of clearing it when he'd already poured another drink himself. "And tell me what glory you've brought on yourself since last we met."
**
First conversations after a long absence were never really easy or smooth, even for such friends as they. Horatio had become a bit more guarded, even defensive, under a captain who, Archie quickly gathered, expected an explanation and a defense of the ideas that his junior lieutenant would spout from nowhere and without warning. Not that Captain Tilly turned down any of those ideas when they were right, and Horatio's usually were. Still, being expected to keep his place and justify himself required something different from Horatio than had been the case on Indefatigable, and he had changed accordingly.
In return he seemed slightly bemused, if not startled, by Archie's own changes, which Archie's drunken poetical bent didn't hesitate to call a blossoming under a captain who didn't give a damn for pomp and polish, who wanted active minds and strong opinions and got them from all his men. "I don't know how I'll go back to serving under someone who leads strictly by the book," Archie said, pouring the last of the bottle into Horatio's cup and putting the coda onto his story of their last engagement, and Captain Weynan's broken leg that had him on his way back to England and his crew cooling their heels waiting for new ships. "Felt like a proper sailor on that ship."
"I'm sure you'll do as well on any other," Horatio murmured, blinking slowly at his glass. "You're as proper an officer as I've ever seen, Archie."
It was the first time Horatio had said his name tonight, in their hours of conversation, the first time Archie had heard it in Horatio's voice in nearly a year, and he found it left him unbalanced for a moment, head too aswirl to properly react.
Horatio lifted his glass, and Archie's eyes settled on his throat as he drank, and then his mouth, and he realized that a proper reaction was quite unlikely now, if it had ever been possible tonight.
"Does your ship require you by dawn?" he said, still shamefully unable to tear his eyes from Horatio's lips. "Because I suspect you may be unable to find your way to the dock, Horatio."
"I suspect you may be right," Horatio said, his voice a low dark rumble above the glass. "May I trouble you further tonight, Archie?"
Archie only nodded, uncertain if his control wouldn't slip and betray too much with the simple words it's no trouble at all.
**
Horatio's lips were dry, chapped by sun and wind, rough against Archie's skin until he had kissed them softer and swollen. Horatio's tongue tasted of the sweet drink from the bottle they had shared, passing back and forth with the stories that built the foundation for this, relaid the ground between them that had grown uncertain in the last eleven months, but had so quickly proven to be much the same after all.
Still the two of them, even changed. Still able to understand each other under all that difference. Still wanting this, hungry for it, craving. Needing.
Horatio's hands were rough and calloused and warm against Archie's skin, too impatient to be gentle and thank God for it. Horatio's body was harder, thicker, muscles settling and broadening on his frame.
Horatio's breath was hot, broken, choppy with choked-off words. His skin was sweat-slick and warm, his muscles tense and trembling and then relaxed into languid stillness as his heart slowed from a race to the steady, even pulse of slumber.
Archie supposed that all of that was true of him as well, from the other side, but there was no need to ask, and no time to get an answer before he was asleep as well.
**
They dressed quietly in the morning, falling into old patterns of assisting one another quickly, easily, without request or direction.
Horatio's hand curved around Archie's jaw and he leaned in until their foreheads were pressed together, their eyes closed, breathing one another in.
"We'll meet again, Horatio," Archie said, smiling and brushing his fingers over Horatio's mouth. "It can only be easier the second time."
That wasn't true, as this was the second time they had to say goodbye, but Horatio gave a gallant effort as he pulled away. "Perhaps our next reunion will be in Portsmouth. The Admiralty may see fit to have us serve together for a third time."
"With any luck," Archie said, opening the door. "Third time lucky, don't they say?"