Morning Tea
A Valentine's Day... thing (Edoraslass says it's too long to be a "drabble") for you!
Morning Tea
AU - Mary Sue (I'll surprise you with fandoms)
Warnings: Slashy, Sexy, Tea-y
Disclaimer: Yes, dammit, it IS a Mary Sue, but trust me on this. Replace "Mary" with your own name when reading. You'll thank me.
The sun was streaming in cool yellow across the bed from through the curtains. Mary blinked and snuggled down in the soft blue sheets. A chill tickled her as she remembered the night before, and she smiled.
She was alone now, but the bed was still warm. She could hear the shower running nearby. Mary wasn’t surprised not to be the first to wake, but now she wondered, how did one manage a coherent and polite good morning greeting? How did one behave in the light of day after such an event? She’d been so nervous at first, but then… she’d behaved with such abandon. There had been cognac involved, certainly, but she had been in her right mind. Still, what a thing to do!
Another flash in her mind from the gale that had hit this bed just a few hours ago made her sigh and pull the covers over her head. Not yet. She did not want to get up just yet. She closed her eyes and remembered hands pinning her wrists to the bed and warm lips on her neck. Her whole body shuddered as the feeling of the friction of bodies clashing returned to her, still so vivid!
The covers were wrapped around her feet. She kicked them loose, sat up, and hurled the entire mess of blanket and sheets onto the wood floor. Mary stared at her reflection in the mirror above the bureau by the bed. Her hair was a tangled mess and her face was flushed. The small dab of mascara she had thrown on at the last minute was now smeared down her right cheek. She looked and felt like the loser of a really bad fight. Somehow, though, she did not feel bad about losing.
After a few minutes of stressful searching, she managed to find all of her clothes except for her favorite pink panties. Fair enough, she could sacrifice those. If they were found after she‘d gone, they’d make a nice souvenir, she decided.
Dressed now, Mary looked again at her reflection. Her t-shirt and jeans were wrinkled. She attempted to wipe her eyes and smooth her hair, but it made little difference. She watched herself self-consciously slump, sliding her hands into her pockets, and managed to grin at the wreck that was left of her. Time to face the music. She headed for the stairs.
James Norrington looked just as wrecked as she did as he absent-mindedly hummed something to himself in the kitchen. Mary waited a minute, watching him finish making the tea, and shivered as she searched for the right words. He turned and saw her. He looked like he’d been hit in the stomach for a split second, and then he simply smiled at her.
“You look a mess,” he said, tilting his head to study her.
“You as well,” smiled Mary in return.
They both stood with their hands in their pockets studying what was left of one another in awkward silence for what must have been three days. She stared as his long neck and remembered running her tongue slowly up it to his jaw. She wanted to walk over to him and do that again.
When James finally said, “Tea?” Mary jumped. They both blushed and laughed, and he returned to the counter to get the tray and tea service to bring to the table.
Mary sat in one of the four wooden chairs around the table and let him push it in for her. He was just about to pour the tea when Freddy came into the kitchen looking well showered and as if someone had ironed his clothes. Other than the light - and extremely distracting - stubble on his face, he looked like his usual, perfectly presented self. How the man managed to look dressed up in a white t-shirt and jeans, she’d never know.
His golden curls were still wet and clinging to his neck, and he was still drying the ends of his hair with the towel hanging around his shoulders.
“Lord Edrington,” teased James, “you look the very model of breeding and position. Did you sleep well?”
Freddy slyly grinned at James and nodded slowly, “I believe I slept better - in those few minutes I slept - than I have in an age.”
Mary felt his eyes on her, but she looked down at a little brown spot on the table. She was not going to stare at him. She begged herself not to start giggling.
“Fine presentation, James,” said Freddy, pulling out the chair beside her, “may I pour?”
James agreed and took a seat of his own.
As he poured the tea for her, Freddy asked her how many lumps she “required,” reminding her of how he had asked her, the night before, if she “required” his assistance removing James’ underpants. She did not, but she had asked for it anyway.
“Two,” she said quietly smiling as she twisted her napkin, again remembering Freddy’s lips on hers, and his hands on her...
“Lemon?” he asked. Mary shook her head and tried to control her breathing.
“Milk?”
“No thank you,” at last she looked up and met his eyes.
Surprisingly Freddy was regarding her with the warmest smile she’d ever seen on his face. Mary was comforted by his expression. The smile slowly became a smirk, and she bit her lip and hated herself for blushing so easily.
“You really should have just a spot of milk with this,” insisted James.
Mary smiled at him and shook her head. He, too, was smirking at her. Dear god, they knew she was embarrassed! She ignored proper behavior and the posturing of her fellow diners and pulled her feet onto her chair, hugging her knees to her chest. She took a long slow sip of the warm tea and reached for a half of a warm scone.
The tea was exquisite. There was a richness to it, but it was not bitter. Mary wished she’d left out the sugars so she could really taste it. She studied James’ tea set. Each solid, white piece had two simple blue stripes around it, and an odd tiny bumble bee painted here and there. The man was serious about his tea. As she took another sip, she decided he was an artist at it.
“This tea is magnificent,” remarked Freddy. Mary nodded.
“Thank you,” said James, “Scone?”
“I dare say this tea will be on my mind all day,” Freddy continued. “It started out so mild and timid, but has become so bold in the cup.”
Mary shook her head and finished off her last drink. Aristocracy baffled her.
“Quite,” agreed James taking the cup from her to make her what he considered a proper tea.
“I find,” he said as he poured, “that this particular tea has secret flavors in it. One cannot possibly know its beauty until it has been stripped of its inhibitions and heated to perfection.”
Mary watched him pour a hint of milk into her cup and noticed he was looking at her, not the tea. He was smirking more, now, than before. His expression reminded her of the one he'd had last night over cognac before things got crazy.
“All in the brew, then?” asked Freddy as James handed her the newly filled cup. His fingers grazed her wrist as she took the cup, and she slightly gasped. A vivid memory of those fingers running along her inner thigh flew into her out of control mind.
“Not entirely,” sighed James, finally taking his eyes off her, “it’s in the preparation, as well, I think.”
“Agreed,” said Freddy, “and the presentation is essential.”
Mary looked at Freddy who was taking his turn at staring right through her as he spoke. This was ridiculous. How much intense discussion about tea were they to have to remain polite and proper?
“Do you like the scones with the tea?” Freddy suddenly looked at James.
Mary watched James turn very red.
They were not talking about tea.
“They were lovely,” said James staring directly into Freddy’s eyes.
“I find the two do quite complement each other,” said Freddy.
Mary looked from one man to the other as they stared at each other confirming that they were both discussing the same subject. She wished she could speak. Her heart pounded. Certainly, it was beating too fast. She swallowed hard and blinked as Freddy, again, looked at her.
“You don’t find it too hot?” he asked her.
Mary could only shake her head “no.” She breathed hard through her nose and bit the smile forcing itself onto her lips.
She returned to her study of the little brown spot in the wood on the table as they continued to discuss the “tea” in detail. Freddy found its color "most irresistible" when it was steeping. James most appreciated its “intoxicating aroma.”
Beside the little brown spot, Mary now saw them again, wrapped around each other on the blue sheets. Freddy ran his tongue over James’ collarbone, slowly, while James smiled at her before pulling her back into them.
Mary closed her eyes and just breathed.
She continued to rewind and replay the recording of the night in her head as James and Freddy critiqued it over the tea. Occasionally, she sipped the wonderful drink James had made for her, and at some point she verbally acknowledged that he had been right about the milk.
Her timing must have been serendipitous, as both men laughed heartily at her comment.
Thank you, edoraslass for the beta, and thanks edoraslass and golly_politely for the email silliness, today, that inspired it.
(Thanks, also, to Seaspot, at Horatians, for getting Sam to look at you like that so I'd have something to stare at while I wrote)
Happy Valentine's Day!
Morning Tea
AU - Mary Sue (I'll surprise you with fandoms)
Warnings: Slashy, Sexy, Tea-y
Disclaimer: Yes, dammit, it IS a Mary Sue, but trust me on this. Replace "Mary" with your own name when reading. You'll thank me.
The sun was streaming in cool yellow across the bed from through the curtains. Mary blinked and snuggled down in the soft blue sheets. A chill tickled her as she remembered the night before, and she smiled.
She was alone now, but the bed was still warm. She could hear the shower running nearby. Mary wasn’t surprised not to be the first to wake, but now she wondered, how did one manage a coherent and polite good morning greeting? How did one behave in the light of day after such an event? She’d been so nervous at first, but then… she’d behaved with such abandon. There had been cognac involved, certainly, but she had been in her right mind. Still, what a thing to do!
Another flash in her mind from the gale that had hit this bed just a few hours ago made her sigh and pull the covers over her head. Not yet. She did not want to get up just yet. She closed her eyes and remembered hands pinning her wrists to the bed and warm lips on her neck. Her whole body shuddered as the feeling of the friction of bodies clashing returned to her, still so vivid!
The covers were wrapped around her feet. She kicked them loose, sat up, and hurled the entire mess of blanket and sheets onto the wood floor. Mary stared at her reflection in the mirror above the bureau by the bed. Her hair was a tangled mess and her face was flushed. The small dab of mascara she had thrown on at the last minute was now smeared down her right cheek. She looked and felt like the loser of a really bad fight. Somehow, though, she did not feel bad about losing.
After a few minutes of stressful searching, she managed to find all of her clothes except for her favorite pink panties. Fair enough, she could sacrifice those. If they were found after she‘d gone, they’d make a nice souvenir, she decided.
Dressed now, Mary looked again at her reflection. Her t-shirt and jeans were wrinkled. She attempted to wipe her eyes and smooth her hair, but it made little difference. She watched herself self-consciously slump, sliding her hands into her pockets, and managed to grin at the wreck that was left of her. Time to face the music. She headed for the stairs.
James Norrington looked just as wrecked as she did as he absent-mindedly hummed something to himself in the kitchen. Mary waited a minute, watching him finish making the tea, and shivered as she searched for the right words. He turned and saw her. He looked like he’d been hit in the stomach for a split second, and then he simply smiled at her.
“You look a mess,” he said, tilting his head to study her.
“You as well,” smiled Mary in return.
They both stood with their hands in their pockets studying what was left of one another in awkward silence for what must have been three days. She stared as his long neck and remembered running her tongue slowly up it to his jaw. She wanted to walk over to him and do that again.
When James finally said, “Tea?” Mary jumped. They both blushed and laughed, and he returned to the counter to get the tray and tea service to bring to the table.
Mary sat in one of the four wooden chairs around the table and let him push it in for her. He was just about to pour the tea when Freddy came into the kitchen looking well showered and as if someone had ironed his clothes. Other than the light - and extremely distracting - stubble on his face, he looked like his usual, perfectly presented self. How the man managed to look dressed up in a white t-shirt and jeans, she’d never know.
His golden curls were still wet and clinging to his neck, and he was still drying the ends of his hair with the towel hanging around his shoulders.
“Lord Edrington,” teased James, “you look the very model of breeding and position. Did you sleep well?”
Freddy slyly grinned at James and nodded slowly, “I believe I slept better - in those few minutes I slept - than I have in an age.”
Mary felt his eyes on her, but she looked down at a little brown spot on the table. She was not going to stare at him. She begged herself not to start giggling.
“Fine presentation, James,” said Freddy, pulling out the chair beside her, “may I pour?”
James agreed and took a seat of his own.
As he poured the tea for her, Freddy asked her how many lumps she “required,” reminding her of how he had asked her, the night before, if she “required” his assistance removing James’ underpants. She did not, but she had asked for it anyway.
“Two,” she said quietly smiling as she twisted her napkin, again remembering Freddy’s lips on hers, and his hands on her...
“Lemon?” he asked. Mary shook her head and tried to control her breathing.
“Milk?”
“No thank you,” at last she looked up and met his eyes.
Surprisingly Freddy was regarding her with the warmest smile she’d ever seen on his face. Mary was comforted by his expression. The smile slowly became a smirk, and she bit her lip and hated herself for blushing so easily.
“You really should have just a spot of milk with this,” insisted James.
Mary smiled at him and shook her head. He, too, was smirking at her. Dear god, they knew she was embarrassed! She ignored proper behavior and the posturing of her fellow diners and pulled her feet onto her chair, hugging her knees to her chest. She took a long slow sip of the warm tea and reached for a half of a warm scone.
The tea was exquisite. There was a richness to it, but it was not bitter. Mary wished she’d left out the sugars so she could really taste it. She studied James’ tea set. Each solid, white piece had two simple blue stripes around it, and an odd tiny bumble bee painted here and there. The man was serious about his tea. As she took another sip, she decided he was an artist at it.
“This tea is magnificent,” remarked Freddy. Mary nodded.
“Thank you,” said James, “Scone?”
“I dare say this tea will be on my mind all day,” Freddy continued. “It started out so mild and timid, but has become so bold in the cup.”
Mary shook her head and finished off her last drink. Aristocracy baffled her.
“Quite,” agreed James taking the cup from her to make her what he considered a proper tea.
“I find,” he said as he poured, “that this particular tea has secret flavors in it. One cannot possibly know its beauty until it has been stripped of its inhibitions and heated to perfection.”
Mary watched him pour a hint of milk into her cup and noticed he was looking at her, not the tea. He was smirking more, now, than before. His expression reminded her of the one he'd had last night over cognac before things got crazy.
“All in the brew, then?” asked Freddy as James handed her the newly filled cup. His fingers grazed her wrist as she took the cup, and she slightly gasped. A vivid memory of those fingers running along her inner thigh flew into her out of control mind.
“Not entirely,” sighed James, finally taking his eyes off her, “it’s in the preparation, as well, I think.”
“Agreed,” said Freddy, “and the presentation is essential.”
Mary looked at Freddy who was taking his turn at staring right through her as he spoke. This was ridiculous. How much intense discussion about tea were they to have to remain polite and proper?
“Do you like the scones with the tea?” Freddy suddenly looked at James.
Mary watched James turn very red.
They were not talking about tea.
“They were lovely,” said James staring directly into Freddy’s eyes.
“I find the two do quite complement each other,” said Freddy.
Mary looked from one man to the other as they stared at each other confirming that they were both discussing the same subject. She wished she could speak. Her heart pounded. Certainly, it was beating too fast. She swallowed hard and blinked as Freddy, again, looked at her.
“You don’t find it too hot?” he asked her.
Mary could only shake her head “no.” She breathed hard through her nose and bit the smile forcing itself onto her lips.
She returned to her study of the little brown spot in the wood on the table as they continued to discuss the “tea” in detail. Freddy found its color "most irresistible" when it was steeping. James most appreciated its “intoxicating aroma.”
Beside the little brown spot, Mary now saw them again, wrapped around each other on the blue sheets. Freddy ran his tongue over James’ collarbone, slowly, while James smiled at her before pulling her back into them.
Mary closed her eyes and just breathed.
She continued to rewind and replay the recording of the night in her head as James and Freddy critiqued it over the tea. Occasionally, she sipped the wonderful drink James had made for her, and at some point she verbally acknowledged that he had been right about the milk.
Her timing must have been serendipitous, as both men laughed heartily at her comment.
Thank you, edoraslass for the beta, and thanks edoraslass and golly_politely for the email silliness, today, that inspired it.
(Thanks, also, to Seaspot, at Horatians, for getting Sam to look at you like that so I'd have something to stare at while I wrote)
Happy Valentine's Day!