Sarah tried not to react badly to the 'I'll not die' after he spoke, steadfastly refusing to actually let her mind run on those words. "I know," she said, grimacing against his neck at the coppery taste in her mouth. "But I want to be here with you no matter who I am to you, so I want to stay. But I'll go if you want me to go."
He caught the muttered qualifier. "You are my very own dear Sarah, is who you are," he said, gently, quite in the same tone he would have used with Brigid. "If you want to stay in a dusty old dungeon I'll not turn you out of it. Now do you want some more yoghurt, honey-lamb?"
And at that, Sarah was lost once more, her mind already eager to say that earlier had been about his pain and her heart ready to believe it now that she was in his arms being called 'his Sarah.' God, it was not fair, he was so adorable even using ridiculous endearments she had never heard another person utter. Again, would never tell him she used the word adorable to describe him in her head.
"No, I'm not hungry," she said with a soft sigh and then turned her face closer to his neck. If only they could stay just like this.
"Should you want a potion, we are very near the office and storeroom," he suggested. "A Dreamless Sleep Potion, or a Calming Draught, or anything else you might like." For himself, he would rather stick with his accustomed drug, but it was not one he would have shared; he knew its addictive potential. "Or I could feed you spoonfuls of jam until you are quite overcome."
"Spoonfuls of jam?" Sarah asked, pulling back to give him a bemused look, arms still tightly around him. "You are a very odd man, Stephen Maturin, and I adore you for it. No, I don't need potions or anything," she said and then added in a whisper, "except you."
"Perhaps I am odd, at that," said Stephen, who was quite accustomed to being told so. "Well, I am just going to have my draught now --" this was how he customarily referred to his dose of laudanum -- "and have a lie down." He had no fear of their other selves overcoming them and forcing them to something that would be indecorous: once he had taken the considerable amount of laudanum he planned to take, he would be insensible, and incapable of any impropriety.
"A good plan," Sarah said softly, though her look was briefly concerned despite herself. Still it was hardly a situation she had any experience with and for all she could know, it was a situation as under control as it could be with everything considered. She slid off his lap and then sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed, watching him.
Stephen unlocked the apothecary cabinet -- this piece of furniture neither dusty nor covered -- and withdrew a bottle, rather larger than the one that had been broken in his dorm room not long ago; in fact, he had filled that one from the one he was now holding. He found a dropper and glass; before measuring out his draught, he turned to Sarah. "Do you require anything?" He assumed she meant to stay with him, since she had made no move or mention of leaving. With a wand-flick he sent a spare shirt from the all-but-empty armoire (the emptiness betokening the removal of River's clothes) over to where Sarah sat. It was another of his old ones, the ones he had brought to Hogwarts; worn from weather and countless harsh washings, the fibers ground down to surprising softness. That done, he turned back to his medicine.
"Thank you," Sarah said softly, grateful to be given something to occupy herself with until he was ready to get in the bed. Quite quickly, she was out of her own clothes and into the shirt, laying aside hers in a folded stack - one of them had to be neat, after all. That done, she toyed with the shirt itself. Strange how comforting wearing his clothing was, a sensation she had never experienced before this as any men's clothing she owned was hers from the initial purchase. There was novelty too in the fact it was not Stephen's modern clothing, but his old clothing and obviously well worn if the softness of the fabric was any indicator. She looked up from her musings with the shirt to watch his actions, uncertain if she was comforted or not with the fact he dosed himself properly rather than throw manners and propriety to the wind and did something like drink ridiculous amounts straight from the bottle. Not that she knew a damned thing about this anyway
( ... )
"That we have," he said, indicating a pitcher that sat on a small bedside table at the opposite side of the bed from where they had been sitting. It might not have been especially fresh, and she probably would have been better advised to keep searching among the tea things, or to call the house elf. Having downed his 'draught', he wandered into the adjoining bathroom, where he could be heard brushing his teeth.
Her search of the tea tray not getting her water, Sarah did go check the water he had indicated, giving it a dubious look. Giving up on that, she frowned and then timidly called for the house-elf, pleased when the creature returned almost immediately with a fresh pitcher after her request. Testing the inside of her cheek with a wince, she drank several glasses of water and declared it adequate, adding 'biting inside of mouth' to her mental list of 'never to do again' actions when upset. Having replaced the old pitcher with the fresh next to the bed, she rounded it once more and then looked down at it for a moment, torn. He had likely been using this bed for days, yet had not seemed to sleep in it which was more than unusual. Deciding that odd behaviors probably should not be questioned right now, she turned her back on the bed and waited for him to join her.
Stephen emerged from the bathroom looking slightly damp; he had splashed his face with water, and some of it had gotten into his hair and onto the front of his shirt, where it was still visible after a desultory towel-mopping. "Did you find water, then? I suppose you could have some from the tap if you want that," he said, unbuttoning and discarding the shirt. He was beginning to feel sleepy from his drug, and sank down atop the still-made bed without taking off or changing any other clothing.
"Mmmhmm, I had some brought as what was by the bed seemed a bit old," Sarah said, watching him only partially undress before getting into bed. "Where are your pajamas?" she asked, looking around and intending to get them for him. She certainly was not going to let him get away with tumbling into bed partially clothed when he could put on pajamas. She was also actually interested in seeing what lovely creatures they might be sporting, because she was not sure anything could top the cows.
"To sleep in," Sarah said with a small shake of her head and a slight smile. "You are in bed in your trousers, even I'm," she tugged n the shirt, "marginally dressed to sleep."
"Hm, quite. Nothing much can be done about that at present, unless you really want to send the house elf on yet another errand ..." He was already closing his eyes.
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"No, I'm not hungry," she said with a soft sigh and then turned her face closer to his neck. If only they could stay just like this.
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