[FIC]: Délicieux
Title: Délicieux
Fandom: A Tale of Two Cities
Characters: Darnay/Carton
Prompt: 08. Kiss
Status: Complete
Word Count: 687
Rating: PG-15, sugar light R? [obvious slash]
Summary: An evening between the two.
Author's Notes: I wanted this to be longer and laden with more romance than there is, but I suppose I can accept this. Délicieux builds on the relationship from Cognac and V.S., obviously; I suggest reading those if you want more background. If not, go right on ahead!
1.
The aroma of roast goose fills the flat. Silverware chinks as Charles lays down a set for Sydney and him, and Sydney swears loudly as he draws the steaming goose from the oven with too-thin dish rags.
Once Sydney has made sure that his hands are not burned, he spoons out carrots and potatoes onto two plates before carving the goose. The skin is crispy; the meat is juicy and succulent. Charles hovers over Sydney, as he always does, whispering in his ear as his hunger is tempted:
“Délicieux.”
When they finally sit down to eat, a subtle warmth drifting from the fireplace, Charles begins to pour the wine-a favourite between them, a cherished bottle of Château Margaux. He pours with patience, the red drink slowly filling the bottom of the glass, until Sydney touches his hand to stop from excess.
2.
After they are done and full and satisfied, Sydney rises from his chair and reaches for Charles’ empty plate, when Charles grabs his hand about the wrist.
“I will do them.”
Sydney does not argue, but nods and leaves Charles to clean up the table and set the plates away for cleaning. He meanders over to the couch, to lie down and watch Charles, and let the warmth lull him into comfort.
3.
Charles sets the glasses upside-down to dry and glances over to the couch. He smiles when he notices those green eyes have fluttered close, notices how utterly at peace Sydney is.
He tiptoes quietly across the room, and takes a seat next to him; Sydney does not shift. Charles takes one of the solicitor’s hands in his own and kisses it gently on the palm. Sydney finally stirs.
“You hopeless romantic,” Sydney teases, opening his eyes but a tad to see Charles; a smile graces his lips. “Your seduction will not affect me.”
“I beg to differ,” Charles answers, and leans down so that their lips almost touch, and he can whisper lover’s words. “You are a romantic as much as me-this dinner, this fire, this night-all coincidence, Sydney? I hardly think so. You are as seductive as Eros himself.”
“And what do you know of it?” Sydney combats, reaching up to lightly touch Charles’ cheek and focuses his eyes on his rose-pink lips. “The way you leave me alone on nights not unlike this, how you make us both masquerade to the world that we are, indeed, of lawful conduct…one would think you hardly have the eyes to notice my flirtations, as minor as they are. Don’t reprimand me for what you do not see, Charles; it’s unfair, in the commonest sense.”
“But it is upon this night I am with you, am I not?” There hangs a jovial humour between them both which cancels this mean jest. “I have spared my evening and night to fill your company, though you don’t seem to want me here in the least. Ah! I am hurt!”
Sydney laughs a genuine amusement that swells from his breast whenever Charles is around. He pushes the Frenchman away so that he may sit up, may tighten his hand around that of Charles’. “You are a jester, Charles, and a fiend-drawing me into this guilt. This is all upon your conscience.”
His hand is still intertwined with Charles’, their blue-green gaze holds; they both smile, until kiss.
4.
Sydney expects that Charles would go home for the night, to his darling family, but he learns otherwise. Charles, to the world, is in fact, at Dover to meet an associate at the port. The entire world accepts the excuse, and thus he has the Frenchman all to himself.
To himself. Sydney has never felt as selfish in his life as he does this night. He has Charles’ sharp wit, his accent français, his aristocrat-blue eyes, his soft lips. He holds and feels his hands, the contours of his smooth and perfect body, the musculature of his frame against his own-and Sydney realizes that they are not that different after all.
And between them, they share moments hidden from the world.
Fandom: A Tale of Two Cities
Characters: Darnay/Carton
Prompt: 08. Kiss
Status: Complete
Word Count: 687
Rating: PG-15, sugar light R? [obvious slash]
Summary: An evening between the two.
Author's Notes: I wanted this to be longer and laden with more romance than there is, but I suppose I can accept this. Délicieux builds on the relationship from Cognac and V.S., obviously; I suggest reading those if you want more background. If not, go right on ahead!
1.
The aroma of roast goose fills the flat. Silverware chinks as Charles lays down a set for Sydney and him, and Sydney swears loudly as he draws the steaming goose from the oven with too-thin dish rags.
Once Sydney has made sure that his hands are not burned, he spoons out carrots and potatoes onto two plates before carving the goose. The skin is crispy; the meat is juicy and succulent. Charles hovers over Sydney, as he always does, whispering in his ear as his hunger is tempted:
“Délicieux.”
When they finally sit down to eat, a subtle warmth drifting from the fireplace, Charles begins to pour the wine-a favourite between them, a cherished bottle of Château Margaux. He pours with patience, the red drink slowly filling the bottom of the glass, until Sydney touches his hand to stop from excess.
2.
After they are done and full and satisfied, Sydney rises from his chair and reaches for Charles’ empty plate, when Charles grabs his hand about the wrist.
“I will do them.”
Sydney does not argue, but nods and leaves Charles to clean up the table and set the plates away for cleaning. He meanders over to the couch, to lie down and watch Charles, and let the warmth lull him into comfort.
3.
Charles sets the glasses upside-down to dry and glances over to the couch. He smiles when he notices those green eyes have fluttered close, notices how utterly at peace Sydney is.
He tiptoes quietly across the room, and takes a seat next to him; Sydney does not shift. Charles takes one of the solicitor’s hands in his own and kisses it gently on the palm. Sydney finally stirs.
“You hopeless romantic,” Sydney teases, opening his eyes but a tad to see Charles; a smile graces his lips. “Your seduction will not affect me.”
“I beg to differ,” Charles answers, and leans down so that their lips almost touch, and he can whisper lover’s words. “You are a romantic as much as me-this dinner, this fire, this night-all coincidence, Sydney? I hardly think so. You are as seductive as Eros himself.”
“And what do you know of it?” Sydney combats, reaching up to lightly touch Charles’ cheek and focuses his eyes on his rose-pink lips. “The way you leave me alone on nights not unlike this, how you make us both masquerade to the world that we are, indeed, of lawful conduct…one would think you hardly have the eyes to notice my flirtations, as minor as they are. Don’t reprimand me for what you do not see, Charles; it’s unfair, in the commonest sense.”
“But it is upon this night I am with you, am I not?” There hangs a jovial humour between them both which cancels this mean jest. “I have spared my evening and night to fill your company, though you don’t seem to want me here in the least. Ah! I am hurt!”
Sydney laughs a genuine amusement that swells from his breast whenever Charles is around. He pushes the Frenchman away so that he may sit up, may tighten his hand around that of Charles’. “You are a jester, Charles, and a fiend-drawing me into this guilt. This is all upon your conscience.”
His hand is still intertwined with Charles’, their blue-green gaze holds; they both smile, until kiss.
4.
Sydney expects that Charles would go home for the night, to his darling family, but he learns otherwise. Charles, to the world, is in fact, at Dover to meet an associate at the port. The entire world accepts the excuse, and thus he has the Frenchman all to himself.
To himself. Sydney has never felt as selfish in his life as he does this night. He has Charles’ sharp wit, his accent français, his aristocrat-blue eyes, his soft lips. He holds and feels his hands, the contours of his smooth and perfect body, the musculature of his frame against his own-and Sydney realizes that they are not that different after all.
And between them, they share moments hidden from the world.