A nice big blob of words
This is the first proper work I ever finished. It was for an exchange fest over on Thremedon. Havemercy fandom, obviously; Balfour/Adamo, nothing too naughty. Called "Lovers and Armament"
When it came to military command, Chief Sergeant Adamo was probably the best, and certainly the most experienced, man in Volstov. The fact that he had lead the Dragon Corps for twelve years without dying, or even weeping at a state-funded psychotherapist, spoke volumes about his talent for planning operations and managing men who, despite their flawless skill and astounding bravery, were essentially crazy assholes.
A dinner-party at the Esar’s palace, however, was not an offensive operation, and as such, Adamo felt as out-of-place as a whore in the Basquiat. The dark-haired man sitting to Adamo’s right, eating his escargots quite beautifully, was not even a crazy asshole who could provide a distraction.
He gazed at Balfour in the vain hope of figuring out how to eat properly something he was fairly sure he didn’t want to be eating. The young airman, however, seemed perfectly at ease with the twisted, greyish mouthfuls; in fact, he seemed completely at ease with the entire evening. Balfour had been brought up in one of the finest houses of country nobility, and it showed. He hadn’t even got snail juice on his gloves.
Sensing Adamo’s tension, Balfour looked up, a sympathetic smile slipping across his lips. He silently guided Adamo’s hand to the correct piece of cutlery, and then arranged Adamo’s broad, blunt fingers to hold it correctly. Balfour squeezed his hand gently before turning back to his own plate.
“It’s quite easy if you just turn them," he said. "You see?”
Adamo attempted to copy, but ended up spearing the entire shell on the fork. On trying discreetly to pick it off, he managed both to break the shell all over the white table-cloth, and to bend the dainty bit of silverware. He groaned, leaning to rest his forehead on Balfour’s shoulder.
“Adamo, you’re supposed to have fun at dinner-parties,” Balfour told him. “I’ve never seen you look more panicked.”
Adamo didn’t lift his head up to reply. “Is eating snails with weird forks part of having fun?”
Balfour laughed softly. “I’m afraid so.”
Adamo pressed a discreet kiss to Balfour’s shoulder through the stiff fabric of his uniform, and sighed before sitting up again. He had only been invited because the Esar’s group of guests (aristocrats, politicians, celebrities, and in some terrible cases, all three at once) were fascinated by the escapades of the Corps, and he had only been allowed to bring Balfour because the younger man was far more suited to such a party. Royston had told him as much, and Adamo was inclined to believe him. Not only was the Margrave decidedly more knowledgeable about these occasions, but Adamo had indeed spent the entire evening answering eager questions from infatuated ladies.
As a bright-eyed girl put Balfour under the inquisition, it occurred to Adamo that Royston was almost certain to be here. He was a member of society whom the Esar could hardly leave off the invitation list, partly because he, too, was of great interest to the other guests. Being fairly infamous for several scandalous dalliances, Royston was sure to be starting as much conversation as the two airmen.
Adamo frowned down at his ruined dish. Royston wouldn’t have gone without Hal; he obviously wanted the whole of Thremedon to fawn over his “child-bride farm-boy” who had suddenly become a national hero. And seeing as high society was hardly shy, or even tactful, when it came to the details of gossip, the boy was likely to be hearing more than he wanted to about Royston’s past. Perhaps, if Adamo found him, they could save each other from imminent death-by-dinner-party.
He scoured the party for the Margrave and his assistant, but the hall was filled with at least two hundred guests; the two tables were so long that Adamo could barely see those at the other end of his own, let alone someone sitting with their back to him across the enormous hall.
“Balfour,” he said quietly (cutting off the girl as she launched into a tale about a cousin who was a highly decorated soldier, perhaps Airman Balfour had heard of him), “have you seen Royston or Hal tonight?” Adamo was well aware that the training for flying a swift, on top of the survival tactics needed as the newest recruit, had made Balfour the sort of person to notice such details.
Balfour shook his head. “I haven’t. I had no idea they were going to be here, but now that you mention it, I presume they received invitations.”
“Right. And you know how everyone here’s obsessed with gossip-” he paused to glance at the bright-eyed girl, who immediately blushed and flicked her eyes down to her lap. Adamo put a hand that was not quite necessary on Balfour’s arm “-I’m just worried that Hal’s going to hear…things he’d rather not. And he’s not the sort of person who’s used to…this sort of people. I mean, last time he ended up hiding in a bathroom. And that was when nobody knew who he was. Do you think he’ll be getting harassed? I might have to check in the-”
“Adamo,” Balfour said, a laugh in his voice, “Hal is not made of glass. I’m sure he could do a fine job of fending off the harassments of young ladies, with or without Royston, so you can stay here. The next course will be meat. Lamb is the thing to serve at the moment, and I imagine you’ll like that more than escargots.”
It was indeed lamb, and indeed more enjoyable, but Adamo stayed tense throughout the procession of salad and sweets and cheese and coffees. By the time it was acceptable to get up and “mingle”, which Adamo took to mean “escape from the obnoxious company he’d sat with for two hours”, he was hell-bent on finding Hal. If Adamo was just about ready to run away from the whole gathering, Bastion damn what the boy would be feeling.
He marched across to the far end of the other table, sure that if Hal and Royston were anywhere else, he would have seen them during four courses’ worth of searching. He spent an uncomfortable few minutes leaning in to examine every cluster of guests in that area, while trying simultaneously to glare away anyone who looked to make conversation. Eventually, Balfour appeared at his side to say softly,
“They’re over there.”
So they were, along with quite a gaggle of the sort of people Royston knew. One of them had small antlers. Adamo gazed at the young man, not only thankful but amazed at Balfour’s talent for navigating him through this sort of thing.
“Thank-you,” he murmured, and then, “Come and meet them properly.” He put a hand on Balfour’s back and walked him over, leaving him little choice. In situations of this kind, Adamo considered his lover to be his armament.
Hal smiled widely as soon as he saw the pair. The rush of relief that Adamo felt would have been more appropriate had he been expecting to find the boy suffering serious bodily harm. He pulled Balfour up to the group, fully intending to introduce him properly, but Hal’s genuine pleasure in seeing them was, insanely, what stopped Adamo from doing the socially normal thing and reduced him to coming out with a very relieved,
“You’re not in a bathroom.”
Hal laughed at that very fine statement.
“No,” he said, “I’m not. Actually I was talking to Margrave Ptolemy” - he gestured to
the man with horns - “about the plays they’ve just lifted the ban on.” Hal had already slipped into a Thremedon accent. His facial expressions might have been as easy to read as ever, but now he was every inch a proper ‘Versity student, complete with limbs that had suddenly grown a little too long.
“I hadn’t heard about that,” Adamo muttered, and sent Balfour a silent plea for help. Having been reassured that Hal was not sitting in a sink when there wasn’t even anyone to discuss third-edition gold-prints with, Adamo’s discomfort with Miranda society was had returned with a vengeance. Balfour gave Hal and Ptolemy a beautiful smile and introduced himself, and within moments they were chatting about the anarchic subtext of modern theatre productions. Adamo felt completely left out of the discussion and quite satisfied like that. He settled into quiet thoughts about how Balfour’s jaw-line looked especially gorgeous when he smiled, and thus didn’t notice Hal’s own smile slide off his face until he tugged at Adamo’s arm.
“The Mme, that’s Royston’s sister-in-law, is over there.” He gestured discreetly at a woman in miles of green crinoline who was bearing down on them, gripping Royston’s arm. Both of them looked distinctly put out.
Adamo frowned. “She’s the one with the table? I mean, the one Roy-”
“Yes, it’s her, she’s visiting and Royston’s been trying to keep her away from everyone all evening.” Hal paused for the briefest of moments to look both very grateful and very in love. “But anyway, you need to go, I mean, it would be best if she didn’t know you were here, basically, I think she wants to engage her daughter to an airman,” Hal said at top speed, under his breath.
“Does she,” said Adamo, eyeing the woman.
Hal added, “Her daughter’s eleven.”
The Mme waved determinedly at Hal, and then turned to say something to Royston, who did not reply. He had the look on his face that Adamo always associated with him blowing up a bookshelf at the ‘Versity in third year. Adamo murmured thanks before putting his head down and making a bee-line for glass doors to a balcony which looked empty. Balfour called hasty goodbyes over his shoulder before following suit.
Walking into the cold evening air was like walking into a wall, after spending so long in the crowded dining-room. Adamo huffed, and then turned around as Balfour followed him out.
“That was terrifying,” he said, and Balfour burst out laughing.
“What?” he demanded, perplexed and still slightly horrified. Balfour, still shaking with stifled laughter, only looped his arms around Adamo’s neck and kissed him soundly. It was warm without being intrusive, as all Balfour’s kisses were. Adamo’s eyebrows shot up, but if that was Balfour’s response, he wasn’t going to push for a more verbal explanation. His hands fell to smaller man’s waist.
Balfour pulled back far too soon, to say,
“I’ve honestly never seen you look so…disgruntled. You think Hal might be in danger. You find Margrave Royston’s sister-in-law terrifying. It’s just so - ironic.” He kissed Adamo again, before he could reply. Suddenly glad for the cool air, Adamo pulled him closer, tracing Balfour’s jaw and relishing his lips. After a moment he breathed into Balfour’s mouth,
“I’ll be disgruntled more often, then, if this is what it gets me,” and slid a hand into his hair. He felt like protesting when Balfour moved back again.
“You know, you don’t need to worry,” he murmured, gesturing back toward the dining-room. Adamo peered through the glass doors and smirked as he saw Royston and Hal cheerfully abandoning the Mme to Margrave Ptolemy, and secreting themselves away behind a row of columns, out of sight of those in the hall. Being otherwise engaged, the
pair had not noticed they were directly in view of anyone who happened to be hiding on a balcony.
Adamo smiled and left them to it. He gathered Balfour back into him, unfastening his stiff collar, and re-evaluating what he thought of the party.