Sleeping Beauty (2/3)
Title: Sleeping Beauty
Fandom: Hornblower.
Characters/Pairing: Archie/Horatio
Disclaimer: All recognisable characters belong to CS Forrester, and possibly A&E/Meridian.
Summary: A slightly odd version of Sleeping Beauty based on Hornblower. Or a very odd version of Hornblower based on Sleeping Beauty.
Rating: PG
Notes: Chapter 2 of Sleeping Beauty.
Part 1
Part 3
Part 4
Chapter 2
In which the prince meets his, er, prince.
The day Jack Simpson left the village, Archie could have wept with relief. Unbelievable though it was to anyone who had ever set foot in the rundown old sweet shop, it was actually part of a chain, most of which was a lot more impressive than this back-water branch. Even more unbelievably, Jack Simpson had been offered a promotion to one of these lovely, previously unheard of, branches.
If Hether, Clayton and Cleveland seemed less surprised by all this than other people, Archie didn’t notice, though they did seem to be a lot more tired than usual. When asked, they just said they had had a lot of late nights recently and changed the subject and Archie was too distracted by thoughts of his impending freedom to notice, for which Clayton was grateful. Archie was no fool, and it had always been more difficult to derail his thoughts than those of other people in the village; Clayton didn’t think he had the energy at the moment.
Jack’s impending departure (which Jack didn’t seem at all pleased about despite the promotion, pay rise, and, inexplicably, company car) seemed to loosen whatever strange hold Jack had over Archie, and Archie found that he was able to call in sick every day until the day Jack left.
His first Jack-free day, Archie all but danced into work. The regional manager was sending someone to help run the place but until he arrived Archie had been left in charge. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so free, so happy. He grinned cheerily at everyone he met, much to their delight; the whole village had been dismayed by the change in him. He winked at the butcher’s daughter, causing her to blush and giggle, and sailed happily down the road and straight into the sweet shop. Where he came to an abrupt halt. Cold fear clamped around his heart, spreading through his chest and across his shoulders. There were memories here. Too many memories, and the ghost of Jack besides. How could he work here, when every corner felt saturated with terror and humiliation? He couldn’t work here, he couldn’t.
He could, he decided. He would. Jack was gone; it was bad enough he had controlled him while was here; Archie wouldn’t let him control him while he wasn’t. He would work hard, and he would earn his money, and some freedom and pride.
Archie tried, he really did. Often he succeeded. But other times he didn’t. Alone in the shop, with nothing but memories to keep him company, Jack tormented him still. Shame gnawed at him, and fear, on and on, until he didn’t know if he was ashamed of the fear or afraid of the shame, and eventually it didn’t matter anyway because it was all just one great cloud of crippling despair that Archie couldn’t see a way out of. After a while, his friends started coming down to the shop with him; helping out when it was busy (not very often), keeping him company when it wasn’t. It helped a little; the cloud didn’t go away but it did disperse a little.
*****
The rain was pouring down the day Horatio Hornblower arrived in the village. He struggled through the downpour to reach the shop, arriving only a few minutes late; he had had to stop and ask for directions, despite the fact the village only really had two streets. By the time he reached his destination he was soaked to the skin, freezing cold and still feeling slightly nauseous from the bus journey through the winding country lanes.
Archie, who had been watching out for him, opened the door to find himself confronted by a tall, lanky bedraggled creature whose dark hair was plastered to pale skin that had turned a deathly white where it wasn’t green. He was the most beautiful thing Archie had ever seen. Archie felt a grin spread across his face, muscles almost aching at the by now unfamiliar movement. He held out his hand, half in greeting and half in an offer of assistance. The grin got bigger as Horatio grasped his hand in return and Archie pulled him in out of the rain. “Keane said you’d be coming today. Welcome to Purgatory.”
“Thank you. Horatio Hornblower.”
“Archie Kennedy. Come in, come in. God, you’re soaked through.” Archie kept up a steady stream of chatter as he guided Horatio through the shop and into the back room. “Sit by the fire for a bit and warm up and then I’ll show you ‘round the shop, though you’ve seen most of it already.” Horatio seemed a little bewildered, which Archie chose to interpret as his reaction to the numbing cold rather than his reaction to Archie. He placidly allowed Archie to remove his coat and push him gently into a chair. “Sit there and I’ll find a towel for you,” Archie said, restraining himself from running his hand across Horatio’s shoulders, though the way his wet shirt clung to him made that very difficult. He rummaged through the cupboard, certain there was a clean towel in there somewhere. “Ah ha!” he said, triumphant. “This should help. At least dry your hair off, stop it dripping down your neck.” Archie was sure he had said more in the last six minutes than he had in the last six months, most of it nonsensical. He passed the towel to Horatio, brushing against his hand as he did so. “God, your hands are freezing.” Seemingly of its own volition, his hand reached out again to Horatio’s, stopping only when it rested on the ice-cold skin. Horatio raised his head at the unexpected contact, his face only inches from Archie’s. Looking into warm brown eyes, Archie found himself rendered speechless.
“Thank you,” Horatio said softly. They looked at each other for a long moment, and then Horatio shifted and raised the towel to his hair, covering his face as he did so. Archie found his voice again.
“I’ll, um, put the kettle on then,” he said, too brightly. He mentally kicked himself. Weren’t men supposed to turn into their fathers not their mothers?
“That sounds great,” Horatio’s muffled response came from beneath the towel, making Archie feel slightly less of an idiot as he filled the kettle and flicked the switch.
“Coffee or tea?” he asked over his shoulder as he pulled mugs out of the little cupboard over the sink.
“Coffee’s fine.” Horatio’s voice no longer sounded muffled. Archie poured water into two mugs, watching as the granules turned to mud and then into something that might be called coffee if you were feeling charitable.
“How do you take it?”
“Black, no sugar.”
“Okie dokie.” Archie kicked himself again. That was the trouble with spending so much time with Hether and Cleveland; he’d obviously forgotten how to talk to normal people. He really needed to get out more and meet new people. Then he remembered what had happened the last time he tried that and a chill settled over him. He shook the feeling off, reminding himself of the warmth he had felt when he touched Horatio’s hand, despite the iciness of his skin. “You might regret saying that once you’ve actually tasted this stuff,” he said, adding copious amounts of milk and sugar to his own mug. “It’s resemblance to coffee is fleeting at best.”
Horatio huffed a laugh at that, and Archie couldn’t help smiling at having amused him, however slightly. “As long as it’s hot, I don’t care if it tastes like dishwater,” Horatio said.
“Ah, well then,” Archie said, picking up the two mugs. “You’re in luck, ‘cause that’s exactly what it tastes like.” Archie turned back towards Horatio and nearly dropped the coffees he was holding. Horatio was standing with his back to Archie, towel slung around his neck, holding the shirt he was no longer wearing in front of the fire. Horatio glanced over his shoulder and smiled shyly. On anyone else the move would have looked playful, teasing even. Coy. But Archie was utterly convinced Horatio had absolutely no idea of the image he presented.
“Sorry, hope you don’t mind,” Horatio said, indicating the shirt in his hands.
“No,” Archie said, a little more high pitched than he would have liked. “No,” he said again, more normally this time. “That’s fine.” Horatio smiled again and Archie put the mugs down on the table with a heavy thud. He sat down absently, watching the movement of muscles across Horatio’s back as he retrieved the chair he had been sitting on and arranged his shirt across the back of it to dry. He had seen more developed bodies, his own for a start, but Horatio’s was not to be sniffed at. He was lithe, wiry, toned. Half-naked. His skin was so pale he looked like marble; living, moving, soft, touchable marble. Archie took a hasty mouthful of coffee, ignoring the burn in his throat and resolving to think no more about touching.
Horatio joined him at the table, picking up his coffee and sitting down slowly in his still-wet jeans. His hair still clung to him, but Archie could see it was drying in curls here and there. He determinedly looked no lower than Horatio’s neck, not that the view above it was any less distracting. Horatio took a sip of his coffee and grimaced down at his legs. “Not a lot I can do about the jeans, unless I strip off completely,” he said, causing Archie to inhale coffee through his nose. “Suppose I’ll just have to be uncomfortable”.
Archie had a few suggestions as to what Horatio could do with his jeans but decided to keep them to himself.
*****
Hether hummed happily to himself as he dusted the sideboard. While Archie didn’t seem to be reviving from his somnolence as quickly as they would have liked, he felt they had definite grounds for optimism. He had smiled more since Horatio’s arrival than they had seen for months. True, that smile was more fleeting than it had been, and less brilliant, but it was there, which was a definite improvement. And yes, Archie still didn’t meet anyone’s eye, and he was still having nightmares, and sometimes still he would stare unseeingly into the fire for a long, long time and you had to call his name several times before he heard you, and that was cause for concern. But then Horatio would come round and he would brighten up and Archie, the old Archie, would be there again. He knew Clayton was worried; he thought that it wasn’t so much a case of Archie waking up as Archie pretending to wake up. He believed that the real Archie was still buried, still withdrawn, and that he had just got better at hiding his pain, maybe even from himself. He believed Archie would not truly be himself again until he no longer lived in fear of Jack Simpson.
Hether didn’t believe it, and nor did Cleveland. The curse said Archie would be woken by a handsome prince and, lo and behold, here was a handsome prince. A handsome prince who, a blind man could see, absolutely adored Archie, and Archie him. It would just take time, that was all.
Hether was lovingly smoothing the dust off a china duck when Clayton and Cleveland walked in. “What are you looking so happy about?” Clayton asked, collapsing into the nearest chair while Cleveland sprawled in his usual spot on the sofa. Hether told him. Clayton sighed. “Do you think it’s that easy? Really? After everything that’s happened haven’t you learned anything?”
“But… but… true love’s kiss and all that,” Cleveland said.
“And what do you think it’s going to take for Archie to kiss Horatio?”
“Shouldn’t Horatio kiss Archie?” Hether asked.
Clayton raised his eyebrows at this. “Horatio? Seriously?”
“For such a bright boy, he is fairly dense,” Cleveland said. “I’d be surprised if he knows what kissing is.” Hether nodded ruefully in agreement.
“Exactly,” Clayton said. “So, what do you think it’s going to take to get Archie to kiss Horatio?”
“A couple of beers and some privacy?” Cleveland said. Hether sniggered. Clayton glared at them both.
“Don’t be idiotic. Do you really think Archie’s going to trust anyone when -” he broke off at the sound of the front door opening. Voices could be heard out in the hall. Moments later Archie and Horatio appeared in the room.
“Can’t stop long,” Archie said “Mum’s making dinner for us and I’m under strict instructions not to be late again.” His eyes had something of their old gleam about them; Cleveland and Hether looked meaningfully at Clayton, who ignored them. “I’ve lost my wallet, did I leave it here?”
Several minutes searching revealed the errant wallet had found it’s way under one of the sofa cushions. Having retrieved it, Archie and Horatio were waved off by others, who all, even Clayton, were immensely cheered to see Horatio sling a companionable arm around Archie’s shoulders as they left.
“You see,” Hether said smugly.
“I’m not saying Horatio won’t wake him, I’m just saying -” Clayton was once again interrupted by the front door. “Archie, what did you forget now?”
“How now, my fellow godmothers. Or should that be godbrothers?” Jack Simpson stood before them, filling the doorway. He seemed to fill the whole house, his presence seeping into every nook and cranny and sucking all the joy out of it. A slow smile spread across Jack’s face. “Did you really think you could get rid of me? That your puny magics were enough to keep me away? Or did you just hope to keep me away long enough for that pretty little thing you somehow conjured up to do his work?” The smile fell from Jack’s face with a snap. “Well it won’t work. You think he would want Archie, even if you could give him to him? There’s only one rule. Render unto Caesar. I’ll leave it up to you to figure out which of us is Caesar, and which is to do the rendering.” With that, he smiled another of his ghastly smiles and left.
*****
“The Caribbean? Really?” Archie said as he and Horatio unpacked the latest shipment of bonbons the next morning.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. I’m just surprised. You don’t seem the lounging around on the beach doing nothing type. Why the Caribbean?”
Horatio shrugged. “Don’t know. I would just very much like to see it. What about you? Where would you go, if you could?”
“Anywhere. Everywhere. I want to see the world, but I’ve barely left this village.”
“You have to pick one.”
“Ok. The Caribbean for me too I suppose.”
“Why?”
“Don’t know. I would just very much like to see it.” Archie laughed and ducked as Horatio threw a packet of sweets at him. “What, you can give crap answers but I can’t?”
“We’ll go one day,” Horatio said decidedly.
“I think it’s going to take more than a bit of overtime to get you to the Caribbean, Horatio. And I can’t see my parents paying for me to go any time soon either.”
“No,” Horatio said. “I mean, we’ll go. Together.” Archie looked up, suddenly very aware of how close Horatio was. His face was only inches away as they both leaned over the box full of sweets between them.
“Us? Together?” Archie said, leaning infinitesimally closer.
“Yes. Friends go on holiday together all the time don’t they?”
Archie was mesmerized by the way Horatio’s lips moved when he spoke. It took him a long moment to gather his thoughts well enough to respond. “Friends. Yes. Friends go on holiday together. So I’ve heard.” Archie watched as Horatio’s lips parted slightly. It would be so easy, Archie thought. So easy. Would they still be friends then? Would they still talk and laugh and sit in comfortable silence if he leaned in now? If he covered Horatio’s mouth with his own? If he closed his eyes and pressed his lips against Horatio’s and ran his hands through his hair? Archie thought they might.
And what about Jack? The thought brought Archie up short and he pulled back slightly. If Horatio knew about Jack, would he still be looking at Archie the way he was now? Would he be leaning in, advancing as Archie retreated? Panic shot through Archie. He couldn’t do this. A kiss was fine but what if it went further? Horatio would know, then. Somehow he would know and Archie couldn’t bear it. He could cope with his parents knowing and his friends, but he knew he couldn’t stand for Horatio to look at him with the same mixture of pity and disgust that they did.
All this went through Archie’s mind at lightning speed. His thoughts fell over one another in a chaotic tumble that made the voice that next cut the air make him wonder if any of it was real at all or simply some bizarre nightmare.
“Hello, Archie. Jack’s missed you boy.”
Archie and Horatio sprang apart, Horatio stumbling slightly as he moved away from Archie. They both turned to stare at the newcomer - Horatio in puzzlement, Archie in utter horror.
“And who is this, Archie? A new arrival to our august establishment?”
Archie was speechless, a thousand nameless horrors crowding into his mind. Horatio glanced worriedly at him before stepping forward.
“Horatio Hornblower. Pleased to meet you.”
“Indeed. Jack Simpson. You’re the one Keane sent are you? Well, you’re not needed now. I’m back, so you can go.”
Horatio moved to obey the command, then stopped. “Sorry, but I haven’t been told to leave. I’ll stay until management tells me otherwise.” Jack took a step backwards at this unprecedented example of someone resisting his influence.
Archie, who felt as though he was watching the proceedings from a great distance, found his voice at Horatio’s defiance. “I wasn’t expecting you back. Why are you back?”
Jack, recovering himself, smiled. “There’s been some re-arrangement higher up. Pellew is now in charge and sent me back here.”
Archie simply stared at Jack, the sight of that too-familiar smirk making him nauseous. This was it. The beginning of the end. This was what he got for starting to believe he could ever be rid of Jack, for daring to even consider the possibility that he might be worthy or deserving of Horatio’s friendship. It would now only be a matter of time before Horatio found out the truth. And when he did, he would run from Archie and not look back. And Archie would be alone again. Alone with Jack.
Fandom: Hornblower.
Characters/Pairing: Archie/Horatio
Disclaimer: All recognisable characters belong to CS Forrester, and possibly A&E/Meridian.
Summary: A slightly odd version of Sleeping Beauty based on Hornblower. Or a very odd version of Hornblower based on Sleeping Beauty.
Rating: PG
Notes: Chapter 2 of Sleeping Beauty.
Part 1
Part 3
Part 4
Chapter 2
In which the prince meets his, er, prince.
The day Jack Simpson left the village, Archie could have wept with relief. Unbelievable though it was to anyone who had ever set foot in the rundown old sweet shop, it was actually part of a chain, most of which was a lot more impressive than this back-water branch. Even more unbelievably, Jack Simpson had been offered a promotion to one of these lovely, previously unheard of, branches.
If Hether, Clayton and Cleveland seemed less surprised by all this than other people, Archie didn’t notice, though they did seem to be a lot more tired than usual. When asked, they just said they had had a lot of late nights recently and changed the subject and Archie was too distracted by thoughts of his impending freedom to notice, for which Clayton was grateful. Archie was no fool, and it had always been more difficult to derail his thoughts than those of other people in the village; Clayton didn’t think he had the energy at the moment.
Jack’s impending departure (which Jack didn’t seem at all pleased about despite the promotion, pay rise, and, inexplicably, company car) seemed to loosen whatever strange hold Jack had over Archie, and Archie found that he was able to call in sick every day until the day Jack left.
His first Jack-free day, Archie all but danced into work. The regional manager was sending someone to help run the place but until he arrived Archie had been left in charge. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so free, so happy. He grinned cheerily at everyone he met, much to their delight; the whole village had been dismayed by the change in him. He winked at the butcher’s daughter, causing her to blush and giggle, and sailed happily down the road and straight into the sweet shop. Where he came to an abrupt halt. Cold fear clamped around his heart, spreading through his chest and across his shoulders. There were memories here. Too many memories, and the ghost of Jack besides. How could he work here, when every corner felt saturated with terror and humiliation? He couldn’t work here, he couldn’t.
He could, he decided. He would. Jack was gone; it was bad enough he had controlled him while was here; Archie wouldn’t let him control him while he wasn’t. He would work hard, and he would earn his money, and some freedom and pride.
Archie tried, he really did. Often he succeeded. But other times he didn’t. Alone in the shop, with nothing but memories to keep him company, Jack tormented him still. Shame gnawed at him, and fear, on and on, until he didn’t know if he was ashamed of the fear or afraid of the shame, and eventually it didn’t matter anyway because it was all just one great cloud of crippling despair that Archie couldn’t see a way out of. After a while, his friends started coming down to the shop with him; helping out when it was busy (not very often), keeping him company when it wasn’t. It helped a little; the cloud didn’t go away but it did disperse a little.
*****
The rain was pouring down the day Horatio Hornblower arrived in the village. He struggled through the downpour to reach the shop, arriving only a few minutes late; he had had to stop and ask for directions, despite the fact the village only really had two streets. By the time he reached his destination he was soaked to the skin, freezing cold and still feeling slightly nauseous from the bus journey through the winding country lanes.
Archie, who had been watching out for him, opened the door to find himself confronted by a tall, lanky bedraggled creature whose dark hair was plastered to pale skin that had turned a deathly white where it wasn’t green. He was the most beautiful thing Archie had ever seen. Archie felt a grin spread across his face, muscles almost aching at the by now unfamiliar movement. He held out his hand, half in greeting and half in an offer of assistance. The grin got bigger as Horatio grasped his hand in return and Archie pulled him in out of the rain. “Keane said you’d be coming today. Welcome to Purgatory.”
“Thank you. Horatio Hornblower.”
“Archie Kennedy. Come in, come in. God, you’re soaked through.” Archie kept up a steady stream of chatter as he guided Horatio through the shop and into the back room. “Sit by the fire for a bit and warm up and then I’ll show you ‘round the shop, though you’ve seen most of it already.” Horatio seemed a little bewildered, which Archie chose to interpret as his reaction to the numbing cold rather than his reaction to Archie. He placidly allowed Archie to remove his coat and push him gently into a chair. “Sit there and I’ll find a towel for you,” Archie said, restraining himself from running his hand across Horatio’s shoulders, though the way his wet shirt clung to him made that very difficult. He rummaged through the cupboard, certain there was a clean towel in there somewhere. “Ah ha!” he said, triumphant. “This should help. At least dry your hair off, stop it dripping down your neck.” Archie was sure he had said more in the last six minutes than he had in the last six months, most of it nonsensical. He passed the towel to Horatio, brushing against his hand as he did so. “God, your hands are freezing.” Seemingly of its own volition, his hand reached out again to Horatio’s, stopping only when it rested on the ice-cold skin. Horatio raised his head at the unexpected contact, his face only inches from Archie’s. Looking into warm brown eyes, Archie found himself rendered speechless.
“Thank you,” Horatio said softly. They looked at each other for a long moment, and then Horatio shifted and raised the towel to his hair, covering his face as he did so. Archie found his voice again.
“I’ll, um, put the kettle on then,” he said, too brightly. He mentally kicked himself. Weren’t men supposed to turn into their fathers not their mothers?
“That sounds great,” Horatio’s muffled response came from beneath the towel, making Archie feel slightly less of an idiot as he filled the kettle and flicked the switch.
“Coffee or tea?” he asked over his shoulder as he pulled mugs out of the little cupboard over the sink.
“Coffee’s fine.” Horatio’s voice no longer sounded muffled. Archie poured water into two mugs, watching as the granules turned to mud and then into something that might be called coffee if you were feeling charitable.
“How do you take it?”
“Black, no sugar.”
“Okie dokie.” Archie kicked himself again. That was the trouble with spending so much time with Hether and Cleveland; he’d obviously forgotten how to talk to normal people. He really needed to get out more and meet new people. Then he remembered what had happened the last time he tried that and a chill settled over him. He shook the feeling off, reminding himself of the warmth he had felt when he touched Horatio’s hand, despite the iciness of his skin. “You might regret saying that once you’ve actually tasted this stuff,” he said, adding copious amounts of milk and sugar to his own mug. “It’s resemblance to coffee is fleeting at best.”
Horatio huffed a laugh at that, and Archie couldn’t help smiling at having amused him, however slightly. “As long as it’s hot, I don’t care if it tastes like dishwater,” Horatio said.
“Ah, well then,” Archie said, picking up the two mugs. “You’re in luck, ‘cause that’s exactly what it tastes like.” Archie turned back towards Horatio and nearly dropped the coffees he was holding. Horatio was standing with his back to Archie, towel slung around his neck, holding the shirt he was no longer wearing in front of the fire. Horatio glanced over his shoulder and smiled shyly. On anyone else the move would have looked playful, teasing even. Coy. But Archie was utterly convinced Horatio had absolutely no idea of the image he presented.
“Sorry, hope you don’t mind,” Horatio said, indicating the shirt in his hands.
“No,” Archie said, a little more high pitched than he would have liked. “No,” he said again, more normally this time. “That’s fine.” Horatio smiled again and Archie put the mugs down on the table with a heavy thud. He sat down absently, watching the movement of muscles across Horatio’s back as he retrieved the chair he had been sitting on and arranged his shirt across the back of it to dry. He had seen more developed bodies, his own for a start, but Horatio’s was not to be sniffed at. He was lithe, wiry, toned. Half-naked. His skin was so pale he looked like marble; living, moving, soft, touchable marble. Archie took a hasty mouthful of coffee, ignoring the burn in his throat and resolving to think no more about touching.
Horatio joined him at the table, picking up his coffee and sitting down slowly in his still-wet jeans. His hair still clung to him, but Archie could see it was drying in curls here and there. He determinedly looked no lower than Horatio’s neck, not that the view above it was any less distracting. Horatio took a sip of his coffee and grimaced down at his legs. “Not a lot I can do about the jeans, unless I strip off completely,” he said, causing Archie to inhale coffee through his nose. “Suppose I’ll just have to be uncomfortable”.
Archie had a few suggestions as to what Horatio could do with his jeans but decided to keep them to himself.
*****
Hether hummed happily to himself as he dusted the sideboard. While Archie didn’t seem to be reviving from his somnolence as quickly as they would have liked, he felt they had definite grounds for optimism. He had smiled more since Horatio’s arrival than they had seen for months. True, that smile was more fleeting than it had been, and less brilliant, but it was there, which was a definite improvement. And yes, Archie still didn’t meet anyone’s eye, and he was still having nightmares, and sometimes still he would stare unseeingly into the fire for a long, long time and you had to call his name several times before he heard you, and that was cause for concern. But then Horatio would come round and he would brighten up and Archie, the old Archie, would be there again. He knew Clayton was worried; he thought that it wasn’t so much a case of Archie waking up as Archie pretending to wake up. He believed that the real Archie was still buried, still withdrawn, and that he had just got better at hiding his pain, maybe even from himself. He believed Archie would not truly be himself again until he no longer lived in fear of Jack Simpson.
Hether didn’t believe it, and nor did Cleveland. The curse said Archie would be woken by a handsome prince and, lo and behold, here was a handsome prince. A handsome prince who, a blind man could see, absolutely adored Archie, and Archie him. It would just take time, that was all.
Hether was lovingly smoothing the dust off a china duck when Clayton and Cleveland walked in. “What are you looking so happy about?” Clayton asked, collapsing into the nearest chair while Cleveland sprawled in his usual spot on the sofa. Hether told him. Clayton sighed. “Do you think it’s that easy? Really? After everything that’s happened haven’t you learned anything?”
“But… but… true love’s kiss and all that,” Cleveland said.
“And what do you think it’s going to take for Archie to kiss Horatio?”
“Shouldn’t Horatio kiss Archie?” Hether asked.
Clayton raised his eyebrows at this. “Horatio? Seriously?”
“For such a bright boy, he is fairly dense,” Cleveland said. “I’d be surprised if he knows what kissing is.” Hether nodded ruefully in agreement.
“Exactly,” Clayton said. “So, what do you think it’s going to take to get Archie to kiss Horatio?”
“A couple of beers and some privacy?” Cleveland said. Hether sniggered. Clayton glared at them both.
“Don’t be idiotic. Do you really think Archie’s going to trust anyone when -” he broke off at the sound of the front door opening. Voices could be heard out in the hall. Moments later Archie and Horatio appeared in the room.
“Can’t stop long,” Archie said “Mum’s making dinner for us and I’m under strict instructions not to be late again.” His eyes had something of their old gleam about them; Cleveland and Hether looked meaningfully at Clayton, who ignored them. “I’ve lost my wallet, did I leave it here?”
Several minutes searching revealed the errant wallet had found it’s way under one of the sofa cushions. Having retrieved it, Archie and Horatio were waved off by others, who all, even Clayton, were immensely cheered to see Horatio sling a companionable arm around Archie’s shoulders as they left.
“You see,” Hether said smugly.
“I’m not saying Horatio won’t wake him, I’m just saying -” Clayton was once again interrupted by the front door. “Archie, what did you forget now?”
“How now, my fellow godmothers. Or should that be godbrothers?” Jack Simpson stood before them, filling the doorway. He seemed to fill the whole house, his presence seeping into every nook and cranny and sucking all the joy out of it. A slow smile spread across Jack’s face. “Did you really think you could get rid of me? That your puny magics were enough to keep me away? Or did you just hope to keep me away long enough for that pretty little thing you somehow conjured up to do his work?” The smile fell from Jack’s face with a snap. “Well it won’t work. You think he would want Archie, even if you could give him to him? There’s only one rule. Render unto Caesar. I’ll leave it up to you to figure out which of us is Caesar, and which is to do the rendering.” With that, he smiled another of his ghastly smiles and left.
*****
“The Caribbean? Really?” Archie said as he and Horatio unpacked the latest shipment of bonbons the next morning.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. I’m just surprised. You don’t seem the lounging around on the beach doing nothing type. Why the Caribbean?”
Horatio shrugged. “Don’t know. I would just very much like to see it. What about you? Where would you go, if you could?”
“Anywhere. Everywhere. I want to see the world, but I’ve barely left this village.”
“You have to pick one.”
“Ok. The Caribbean for me too I suppose.”
“Why?”
“Don’t know. I would just very much like to see it.” Archie laughed and ducked as Horatio threw a packet of sweets at him. “What, you can give crap answers but I can’t?”
“We’ll go one day,” Horatio said decidedly.
“I think it’s going to take more than a bit of overtime to get you to the Caribbean, Horatio. And I can’t see my parents paying for me to go any time soon either.”
“No,” Horatio said. “I mean, we’ll go. Together.” Archie looked up, suddenly very aware of how close Horatio was. His face was only inches away as they both leaned over the box full of sweets between them.
“Us? Together?” Archie said, leaning infinitesimally closer.
“Yes. Friends go on holiday together all the time don’t they?”
Archie was mesmerized by the way Horatio’s lips moved when he spoke. It took him a long moment to gather his thoughts well enough to respond. “Friends. Yes. Friends go on holiday together. So I’ve heard.” Archie watched as Horatio’s lips parted slightly. It would be so easy, Archie thought. So easy. Would they still be friends then? Would they still talk and laugh and sit in comfortable silence if he leaned in now? If he covered Horatio’s mouth with his own? If he closed his eyes and pressed his lips against Horatio’s and ran his hands through his hair? Archie thought they might.
And what about Jack? The thought brought Archie up short and he pulled back slightly. If Horatio knew about Jack, would he still be looking at Archie the way he was now? Would he be leaning in, advancing as Archie retreated? Panic shot through Archie. He couldn’t do this. A kiss was fine but what if it went further? Horatio would know, then. Somehow he would know and Archie couldn’t bear it. He could cope with his parents knowing and his friends, but he knew he couldn’t stand for Horatio to look at him with the same mixture of pity and disgust that they did.
All this went through Archie’s mind at lightning speed. His thoughts fell over one another in a chaotic tumble that made the voice that next cut the air make him wonder if any of it was real at all or simply some bizarre nightmare.
“Hello, Archie. Jack’s missed you boy.”
Archie and Horatio sprang apart, Horatio stumbling slightly as he moved away from Archie. They both turned to stare at the newcomer - Horatio in puzzlement, Archie in utter horror.
“And who is this, Archie? A new arrival to our august establishment?”
Archie was speechless, a thousand nameless horrors crowding into his mind. Horatio glanced worriedly at him before stepping forward.
“Horatio Hornblower. Pleased to meet you.”
“Indeed. Jack Simpson. You’re the one Keane sent are you? Well, you’re not needed now. I’m back, so you can go.”
Horatio moved to obey the command, then stopped. “Sorry, but I haven’t been told to leave. I’ll stay until management tells me otherwise.” Jack took a step backwards at this unprecedented example of someone resisting his influence.
Archie, who felt as though he was watching the proceedings from a great distance, found his voice at Horatio’s defiance. “I wasn’t expecting you back. Why are you back?”
Jack, recovering himself, smiled. “There’s been some re-arrangement higher up. Pellew is now in charge and sent me back here.”
Archie simply stared at Jack, the sight of that too-familiar smirk making him nauseous. This was it. The beginning of the end. This was what he got for starting to believe he could ever be rid of Jack, for daring to even consider the possibility that he might be worthy or deserving of Horatio’s friendship. It would now only be a matter of time before Horatio found out the truth. And when he did, he would run from Archie and not look back. And Archie would be alone again. Alone with Jack.