Ficlet: Sometimes
Title: Sometimes
Fandom The Charioteer
Pairing: Ralph/Laurie
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Mary Renault's brilliant novel. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Note: Um, yes. I have no excuses for writing this instead of working on In the dead of the night. This may sound possessed but the words simply had to be written.
Sometimes
Sometimes he resents him, resents his single-minded pursuit of whatever he deems right. As if he alone knows. As if he alone must bear the consequences. But he never parades it around when he does something ridiculously honourable, acts equally foolish and heroic; he never expects any recognition, and Laurie can’t help but soften and forgive.
Sometimes he resents him for speaking words as naked and sharp as a rapier. It’s always, always honesty with him, thinly masked by convention and manners but only just. He speaks the truth even if it’s dressed as a lie. He’s always ready for battle, shoulders tense and blue eyes alert and hard on every new day, every new challenge. It’s the concept of masculinity pressed into a mortal body, almost too much for anyone to bear. Sometimes the only way to cope is by softening the reverberating tension with lips and hands and accepting his affection, this also too intense and bright and usually curbed and hidden under all these layers that make up Ralph Lanyon.
Sometimes he resents him for being strong and proficient and yet not living up to Laurie’s ideal. For being human.
Sometimes he resents him for making him stay. Obligation born out of guilt and need. Sometimes he wonders what his life would be like if he hadn’t been there in time. Hadn’t read the letter. He remembers, the words etched into his memory, and they burn like acid. Like everything else, Ralph would have gone about this methodically and no-nonsense. He would have left Laurie behind, bewildered and hurt, like he had all those years ago. Only there would have been no book, only a letter, absolving him. No, he couldn’t have lived with himself, couldn’t have accepted a world without him just being. In this, he knows, Ralph had been wrong.
Sometimes he resents him for resembling him a bit too much. If he was more like Alec or Sandy, he could... well, he could feel superior without being a hypocrite. They’re different, of course they are, and yet they’re too alike. He hasn’t always understood this but Ralph did and sometimes he resents him for that, too.
Sometimes he resents him, resents his incessant fussing and caring. The way he tries to run his life as if they were still at school and he was his responsibility. Sometimes he resents him for giving him what he wants - even though it cannot, must not be. Nothing seems impossible for him and it’s intimidating. Sometimes his expectations are too high, too much and Laurie finds himself yearning for someone less real, less grounded. He tends to avoid thinking of him as crippled in more than one way because it is another impossibility and it fits as badly as Ralph's glove.
Sometimes he resents his good looks, resents his energetic gait, his bright blue eyes and soft, fair hair. He doesn’t at night when they fall against each other, their contours softened by the dim, artificial light. Nor when Ralph is asleep, looking younger, the lines on his face smoothed out as if nothing could touch his beauty, as if he hasn’t been through hell at the age of nineteen. No, he doesn’t then but sometimes he does.
And sometimes, sometimes he’s caught being resentful and then Ralph smiles knowingly and calls him Spud in that soft, intimate voice and that’s when Laurie resents himself.
Fin
Fandom The Charioteer
Pairing: Ralph/Laurie
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Mary Renault's brilliant novel. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Note: Um, yes. I have no excuses for writing this instead of working on In the dead of the night. This may sound possessed but the words simply had to be written.
Sometimes
Sometimes he resents him, resents his single-minded pursuit of whatever he deems right. As if he alone knows. As if he alone must bear the consequences. But he never parades it around when he does something ridiculously honourable, acts equally foolish and heroic; he never expects any recognition, and Laurie can’t help but soften and forgive.
Sometimes he resents him for speaking words as naked and sharp as a rapier. It’s always, always honesty with him, thinly masked by convention and manners but only just. He speaks the truth even if it’s dressed as a lie. He’s always ready for battle, shoulders tense and blue eyes alert and hard on every new day, every new challenge. It’s the concept of masculinity pressed into a mortal body, almost too much for anyone to bear. Sometimes the only way to cope is by softening the reverberating tension with lips and hands and accepting his affection, this also too intense and bright and usually curbed and hidden under all these layers that make up Ralph Lanyon.
Sometimes he resents him for being strong and proficient and yet not living up to Laurie’s ideal. For being human.
Sometimes he resents him for making him stay. Obligation born out of guilt and need. Sometimes he wonders what his life would be like if he hadn’t been there in time. Hadn’t read the letter. He remembers, the words etched into his memory, and they burn like acid. Like everything else, Ralph would have gone about this methodically and no-nonsense. He would have left Laurie behind, bewildered and hurt, like he had all those years ago. Only there would have been no book, only a letter, absolving him. No, he couldn’t have lived with himself, couldn’t have accepted a world without him just being. In this, he knows, Ralph had been wrong.
Sometimes he resents him for resembling him a bit too much. If he was more like Alec or Sandy, he could... well, he could feel superior without being a hypocrite. They’re different, of course they are, and yet they’re too alike. He hasn’t always understood this but Ralph did and sometimes he resents him for that, too.
Sometimes he resents him, resents his incessant fussing and caring. The way he tries to run his life as if they were still at school and he was his responsibility. Sometimes he resents him for giving him what he wants - even though it cannot, must not be. Nothing seems impossible for him and it’s intimidating. Sometimes his expectations are too high, too much and Laurie finds himself yearning for someone less real, less grounded. He tends to avoid thinking of him as crippled in more than one way because it is another impossibility and it fits as badly as Ralph's glove.
Sometimes he resents his good looks, resents his energetic gait, his bright blue eyes and soft, fair hair. He doesn’t at night when they fall against each other, their contours softened by the dim, artificial light. Nor when Ralph is asleep, looking younger, the lines on his face smoothed out as if nothing could touch his beauty, as if he hasn’t been through hell at the age of nineteen. No, he doesn’t then but sometimes he does.
And sometimes, sometimes he’s caught being resentful and then Ralph smiles knowingly and calls him Spud in that soft, intimate voice and that’s when Laurie resents himself.
Fin