[Yami no Matsuei/Boardwalk Empire] "Kept Youngster" (PG-13)
Author's Note: Written for 1_million_words's prompt of the day "12/30/13 - Ennui". Set in the Boardwalk Empire-inspired "Team Albany" alternate universe devised by Pashchan and Injusticeworth. Featuring Hyacinthe, who previously appeared in "Bagman".
Nominally, he served as Dr. Mudgett's valet and sometime secretary -- he had the certificate from a correspondence school to prove it, along with the mail-in college courses he had begged of his keeper -- but his service generally took place once he had helped Mudgett out of his suit and turned down the covers, warming the man's sheets on the cold Albany nights, listening to him and keeping his confidences.
"So when are you going to take me to Atlantic City?" Hyacinthe asked, his head on the corner of the older man's pillow, while his master settled beside him.
"When there's fewer hawks likely to swoop in and take you from me," Mudgett replied, though in this place, he preferred to be addressed by the name on his birth certificate, the name of the man who had treated Hyacinthe during the influenza epidemic with no success. Only Mudgett's lesser known skills had eradicated Hyacinthe's illness and cured him for all time, leaving his body frozen in time, youthful for as long as the spell lasted. Three years of education later, he now learned a new set of skills. Small price to pay, and people expected a gentleman of Mudgett's standing to have a young assistant.
"Is that so?" Hyacinthe drawled, drawing away, playing hard to get. "I don't believe you. For all I know, you're keeping me in the dark."
Mudgett's long arm found his waist and his long-fingered hand stroked his flank through the silk of Hyacinthe's pyjama jacket. "You're still young and too sure of yourself: I worry someone might poach you if neither of us is careful."
"Hmmf, but it's boring up here," Hyacinthe drawled, turning over on his side, his back to his keeper. "Isn't all the action in New York or Atlantic City?"
Mudgett turned over onto his own side, his chest against the shorter man's back. "Too much for my liking: I'd rather keep you out of harm's way."
"Selfish beast," Hyacinthe muttered, arching his back and turning his face away.
"Very well, if your ennui has gotten the better of you, this will be your first season down the shore," Mudgett replied, simply and straightforward. No trace of his usual subterfuge, to the point that Hyacinthe could barely believe what he had heard.
The younger man turned over onto his back, looking his master straight in the face. "Just like that?"
"Just like that," Mudgett replied.
"There'll be a catch: you'll make me pay between the thighs," Hyacinthe muttered.
"If anything, in Atlantic City, we'll have to be more discreet: people will grow suspicious about our engagement," Mudgett said, nuzzling the side of Hyacinthe's head. "For once, you'll be taking appointments and filing patient records, instead of warming my pillows. And the more that I think about it, the better it seems: the sea air and the sun will put some color into that porcelain face of yours."
"You're the one who kept me out of the light," Hyacinthe grumbled.
"Only because I was unsure how you would react to it," Mudgett said. "You're a unique case. And I had to be sure that your new identity would stick: they think you're dead, one of the thousands snatched up by the Spanish Influenza."
"Putting a new name to a ghost? Fair enough," Hyacinthe replied, nodding, acknowledging this.
"But for now, let us take our rest: you'll have work enough tomorrow," his master said, kissing his ear before turning onto his back and closing his eyes.
Hyacinthe shifted onto his pillow, curling up beside his master as per usual. When he heard Mudgett's breathing settle into a calm rhythm and his temperature settle to its night time low. Once he knew the man -- if he call Mudgett or himself, for that matter, a man -- had fallen asleep, Hyacinthe pulled himself up and kissed his master's cheek before leaning his head on Mudgett's shoulder and settling down into his usual half sleep.
One thing to look forward to, he thought. Not quite as pleasing as finding a means to punish the man who had used him and let him die, but it would suffice. It would broaden the horizons he had thought lost when he had slid for a moment past the veil...
Nominally, he served as Dr. Mudgett's valet and sometime secretary -- he had the certificate from a correspondence school to prove it, along with the mail-in college courses he had begged of his keeper -- but his service generally took place once he had helped Mudgett out of his suit and turned down the covers, warming the man's sheets on the cold Albany nights, listening to him and keeping his confidences.
"So when are you going to take me to Atlantic City?" Hyacinthe asked, his head on the corner of the older man's pillow, while his master settled beside him.
"When there's fewer hawks likely to swoop in and take you from me," Mudgett replied, though in this place, he preferred to be addressed by the name on his birth certificate, the name of the man who had treated Hyacinthe during the influenza epidemic with no success. Only Mudgett's lesser known skills had eradicated Hyacinthe's illness and cured him for all time, leaving his body frozen in time, youthful for as long as the spell lasted. Three years of education later, he now learned a new set of skills. Small price to pay, and people expected a gentleman of Mudgett's standing to have a young assistant.
"Is that so?" Hyacinthe drawled, drawing away, playing hard to get. "I don't believe you. For all I know, you're keeping me in the dark."
Mudgett's long arm found his waist and his long-fingered hand stroked his flank through the silk of Hyacinthe's pyjama jacket. "You're still young and too sure of yourself: I worry someone might poach you if neither of us is careful."
"Hmmf, but it's boring up here," Hyacinthe drawled, turning over on his side, his back to his keeper. "Isn't all the action in New York or Atlantic City?"
Mudgett turned over onto his own side, his chest against the shorter man's back. "Too much for my liking: I'd rather keep you out of harm's way."
"Selfish beast," Hyacinthe muttered, arching his back and turning his face away.
"Very well, if your ennui has gotten the better of you, this will be your first season down the shore," Mudgett replied, simply and straightforward. No trace of his usual subterfuge, to the point that Hyacinthe could barely believe what he had heard.
The younger man turned over onto his back, looking his master straight in the face. "Just like that?"
"Just like that," Mudgett replied.
"There'll be a catch: you'll make me pay between the thighs," Hyacinthe muttered.
"If anything, in Atlantic City, we'll have to be more discreet: people will grow suspicious about our engagement," Mudgett said, nuzzling the side of Hyacinthe's head. "For once, you'll be taking appointments and filing patient records, instead of warming my pillows. And the more that I think about it, the better it seems: the sea air and the sun will put some color into that porcelain face of yours."
"You're the one who kept me out of the light," Hyacinthe grumbled.
"Only because I was unsure how you would react to it," Mudgett said. "You're a unique case. And I had to be sure that your new identity would stick: they think you're dead, one of the thousands snatched up by the Spanish Influenza."
"Putting a new name to a ghost? Fair enough," Hyacinthe replied, nodding, acknowledging this.
"But for now, let us take our rest: you'll have work enough tomorrow," his master said, kissing his ear before turning onto his back and closing his eyes.
Hyacinthe shifted onto his pillow, curling up beside his master as per usual. When he heard Mudgett's breathing settle into a calm rhythm and his temperature settle to its night time low. Once he knew the man -- if he call Mudgett or himself, for that matter, a man -- had fallen asleep, Hyacinthe pulled himself up and kissed his master's cheek before leaning his head on Mudgett's shoulder and settling down into his usual half sleep.
One thing to look forward to, he thought. Not quite as pleasing as finding a means to punish the man who had used him and let him die, but it would suffice. It would broaden the horizons he had thought lost when he had slid for a moment past the veil...