Richard Jury Fic - Dutch Courage
Title: Dutch Courage
Fandom: Richard Jury Mysteries
Genre: Pre-Slash; Slash, First time, AO
Characters: Richard Jury/Melrose Plant. Canonical het pairings (Richard) are referenced/implied.
Word count: 2400
More Stories: Visit the Story Page
Disclaimer: Not mine. No money being made. No copyright infringement intended.
Spoilers: Mild for 'The Case Has Altered' - mainly for the Richard-angst. Little plot-spoiler.
Story Notes: Set immediately after The Case Has Altered. Takes no account of any canonical events after this time (because they hadn't happened yet...). For
seraphina_snape, who prodded me *vbg*
Summary: Richard Jury has been involved in a car accident, and is recuperating at Ardry End. He is taking stock of his life and relationships, and comes to a startling conclusion.
Dutch Courage
'Don't you think that someone who really cared for you would confide in you?' Superintendent Richard Jury's own words taunted him. There was his answer, right there in the question he'd asked his friend Melrose Plant when Jenny was still a suspect. Plant hadn't essayed an answer - just offered him a piece of his toast, cut into soldiers.
Jennifer Kennington hadn't confided in him. Hadn't told him anything, really, neither out loud nor in the awkward coupling he'd welcomed then wished undone. She'd kept herself firmly closed away from him, sharing her body - charily, Jury remembered - but not her mind, her emotions, her heart. He, of course, had been ready to be her fool. Just another poor choice amongst a lifetime of them.
The only conclusion possible was the obvious one. Jenny Kennington didn't care. Did not care enough, at any rate.
Jury supposed that Carole-anne, at least, would be pleased. And Plant? Jenny had been on that absurd list he'd made. Crossed off, he remembered dully, Plant at pains to assure him that Jenny was not 'his type'. No, Jury thought. Plant had his faults, but he was a good friend. His best friend? The thought came unbidden. Did grown men have 'best friends'?
Whatever label you chose, Jury reflected, Plant was important to him. Here he was, after all. Lucky to have escaped the smash on the icy country road with a sprained back and nothing worse. When the doctor had ordered him to bed for three weeks, Plant had insisted and Jury had, truth be told, been glad to acquiesce. His own flat, even adorned with Carole-anne as ministering angel, was a cold second to Ardry End.
"Richard!" Melrose Plant interrupted his funk, reentering the drawing room. "Agatha's on her way. Come upstairs. We'll leave the cakes here and she wont miss us." Jury twisted a smile, and Plant crossed to his side and offered an arm. Stiffly, Jury clambered out of his chair. "You're improving," Melrose encouraged.
Richard had been allowed up a week ago. He certainly looked much better than he had a month ago, Melrose considered. Perhaps the doctor who had jovially discharged him had been right after all. At the time, Melrose had wanted to argue. He'd started to talk about medical misadventure, only silenced when Jury, grey faced, shaking with pain, had snapped "Plant, I'm not dying. Will you please get us out of this godforsaken place?"
Against his better judgement, Melrose had complied. Richard hadn't spoken again on the drive to Long Piddleton. Melrose thought he had been drowsing from the painkillers, finally kicking in. On their arrival, Ruthven had rushed out, fussing, Melrose had thought. Yet somehow Ruthven had got Jury inside and into the prepared bed in the downstairs study before Melrose had so much as got out of his gloves and coat.
Melrose had been surprised to find himself feeling put out at not being required. He'd retreated to the drawing room and was pouring himself a steadying port when Ruthven reappeared. "My lord, Mr Jury is asking for you."
Jury had been pale as the sheet, even in the warm lamplight. Impulsively, Melrose had stepped to the bed and closed his hand over Richard's. "You'll be right as rain, once you've had a good night's sleep." Even at the time, Melrose had known he was prattling.
Jury, however, had summoned a smile. "I'd like to think so." He'd pressed Melrose's fingers briefly, then closed his eyes. "Thank you, my friend."
Now, Melrose and Jury climbed the stairs, Jury leaning heavily on his friend's arm. They heard the bell as they achieved sanctuary in the master bedroom. "Gone awa-a-ay," Melrose hallooed softly.
Jury laughed. "Now, tell me you've got at least a decanter or two hidden away up here. We deserve a stirrup cup."
"I can rustle something up." Melrose helped Jury to the bed. "Put your feet up."
"All right." Jury lowered himself to the bed with a sigh, and submitted to Plant fluffing pillows. The helplessness angered him, but he wouldn't snap at Plant, who did his best not to let Jury feel it. He did feel it, of course, but that wasn't Plant's fault. No more than the mess with Jenny had been.
Jury's frown caught Melrose's attention. "Are you in pain, Richard?"
"Nothing a stiff whiskey wont fix."
Melrose hesitated. "Perhaps your pills...?" He looked at Jury inquiringly.
"No." Jury shook his head. "It's not that kind of pain." Melrose blinked at him, confused. "I was thinking about Jenny."
"Oh." Comprehension dawned in Plant's eyes, and he quickly went to the dresser, extracting glasses and a new bottle of single malt from what looked to Jury like a sock drawer.
"Only an Earl..." he said meaningfully.
"Ex-Earl," Melrose said automatically. "Anyway, I don't know what you're complaining about. It's coming in handy, isn't it?"
Jury ignored him. "About Jenny." He closed his eyes, wondering whether the thought of her would always, now, feel like a clutching hand on his entrails. "Listen. If you think... well, if you wanted to see her..."
"No." Melrose interrupted him, aggrieved. "Richard, just what sort of friend do you think I am?"
"That's just it. That's why I'm saying - if you want to - I wouldn't - well, I wouldn't stop you. That's all."
"Even if I wanted to, which I don't, I wouldn't." Melrose's voice was firm and final, and Jury opened his eyes again, relieved. He'd hoped - even expected - that Melrose would respond as he had.
"You know, I've been doing a lot of thinking since I've been laid up. Haven't had much else to do, after all." Silently, Melrose delivered a whiskey and soda to the nightstand at Jury's elbow, and took his own to the window seat. Richard was evidently feeling eloquent.
"Remember I asked you what you thought about me and women?"
"Yes," Melrose agreed cautiously. If he remembered correctly, on the occasion Jury was referring to his next question had been "Am I doomed?" Not particularly cheery. Still, it was hardly surprising that his friend's reflections on Lady Kennington were taking a gloomy path.
"Well, you never did give me your opinion, did you? What do you think?"
"If I remember correctly, the reason I didn't answer was because you started talking about women falling all over me. Which, as I pointed out, is blatantly false."
"That's still not an answer. And they do. Fall all over you, that is. No, don't argue." Jury raised his hand, and Melrose found himself obediently closing his mouth.
"Anyway," Jury continued, "I was thinking about this nightmare with Jenny. You know, I caused a lot of it. I wanted it to be more than it was, and then I blamed her when she didn't play the role I wanted her to play."
"She's used you pretty thoroughly over the years."
"I allow it." Jury shrugged. "I can't blame her." He sighed. "You know, I could never sit and talk with her like I do with - well, you, for the sake of example. I've only realised that these last few weeks. It's odd, I mean, how could I have been contemplating being with someone - marrying someone - if I cant have a conversation with them? With Jenny, it has always been meaningful looks, or one of us storming off. You never met Jane - but, do you know, I was going to ask her to marry me, and I'd actually told her a couple of days beforehand that I couldn't picture any room in her house except the bedroom. How can that be the basis for a lifetime commitment?" Jury stopped, breath coming quickly.
Melrose looked at him sympathetically. "All those self-help books say that friendship's a key component," he suggested.
Jury gave a short laugh. "So, I should marry you. Simple."
"I don't think the point is that you should marry your friends, Richard. You're supposed to make friends with the women that you love."
"There's the problem, then. That just doesn't work for me. Anyway, I think we've established it's a proven fact that any relationship I have with a woman is doomed."
"Don't be ridiculous, Richard. You just haven't met the right woman yet." Melrose thought he sounded unconvincing, even to himself.
*********************
Melrose Plant arrived home at ten o'clock, after a convivial evening at the Jack and Hammer with Diane and Trueblood. Richard Jury had insisted Melrose go, taking the telephone out of his hand and accepting on his behalf when Melrose had hesitated.
"I don't need a babysitter," Jury had told him, amused. "I'll hold the castle against invaders."
"Not if it's Agatha."
"Oh, if it's Agatha, I'll immediately surrender. Then fall asleep in a chair and snore. I'm an invalid, remember - I cant be accused of bad manners."
"How's Richard?" Melrose asked Ruthven, as he was divested of his coat.
"Mr Jury retired to bed an hour ago, my lord."
"Oh. All right, then." Melrose spoke briefly to Mindy, ensconced before the fire in the drawing room, then decided to go to bed himself.
Entering his bedroom, he was surprised to find Richard Jury sprawled on his bed, leaning back against the pillows. The whiskey bottle they had broached when avoiding Agatha two days ago was on the nightstand and, Melrose noticed, the tide had sunk considerably lower than when he had seen it last.
Jury saluted Melrose with an empty glass. "Plant! You're back!"
'More than a little tipsy,' thought Melrose. "Yes. Is everything all right, Richard?" It was rare that he'd seen his friend over-indulge. He'd certainly never known Richard to sit at home alone and polish off nearly half a bottle of whiskey.
"Fine." Jury was slurring a little, but his eyes were clear.
"So - ah - why are you in my room, Richard?"
"Wanted to talk to you. Important." Jury blinked slowly, nodded. "Something important to say."
"Well, I'm here now."
"Come and sit down." Jury patted the bed, and Melrose perched next to him. "I've been thinking. About what we were talking about the other day. About women. Melrose, you're my best friend." Jury gestured with his glass again. "Needed - needed Dutch courage to tell you. You understand?"
"I understand." Melrose patted Jury's arm reassuringly. If his friend needed to get drunk and maudlin, well, he understood that. The disaster with Jenny, followed by the car accident - it was too much. The man was entitled to a bender.
Jury put his glass on the nightstand and sat up, bringing himself face to face with Melrose. "Glad you understand." He paused. "Sorry I couldn't tell you sober."
Melrose opened his mouth to tell Richard not to worry, but was forestalled. Richard put his hands on Melrose's shoulders, and kissed him.
One part of Melrose's brain reeled in shock. 'What the hell...? No, no, I didn't understand...' On another level, he was aware of the taste of the whiskey in Richard's mouth, fire and peat. A third part objectively noted that Melrose wasn't fighting. In fact... Melrose realised with a jolt that he was responding to the bruising thrill of Richard's lips on his, his mouth as hard and hungry as Richard's as he kissed him back.
Panting, Melrose looked into his friend's eyes. 'No wonder he needed Dutch courage,' he thought suddenly. His mind was still reeling, but he knew, assuredly, knew in a deep, ancient, wise part of himself he'd never delved before that this was right and true. The light he could see in Richard's eyes was reflected, he knew, in his own.
He leaned forward and kissed Richard again. Richard's hands moved from his shoulders, as he tentatively raised a hand to Melrose's neck. Melrose shivered at the fingers light on his skin and mirrored Jury's movement, his own hand coming to rest at the back of Jury's neck.
"Melrose?" Richard said huskily.
"Richard." Melrose found his voice was unsteady. He leaned forward and pushed Richard back down on the bed. "Let me - make sure we are not disturbed." Quickly he got up and locked the door. Ruthven could think what he liked. As an afterthought, he switched off the light.
Melrose returned to the bed and awkwardly lay down next to Jury. He felt a qualm, but before it could resolve itself, his mouth was claimed by Richard's and his body shook with recognition. Blood surged through his veins like a victory march and Melrose fumbled in the dark with Jury's shirt. Richard's hands were pulling at his clothing, and they managed, somehow, tearing at buttons.
The dark was welcome, Melrose thought. He knew he was blushing at what Richard's hands were doing. And if the light had been on, if he could have felt Richard's eyes on him, he wouldn't have been brave enough - there - to lick, then bite gently, at his friend's neck, before angling lower.
Richard groaned, and arched back as Melrose's teeth grazed his nipple. Plant would be furious if he knew Jury had poured half a bottle of his best whiskey down the bathroom sink. One small glass was all the Dutch courage he'd needed. But if Melrose hadn't responded - hadn't wanted this - a half empty bottle of whiskey was as good an explanation as any for Jury's behaviour.
He sighed at the feel of Melrose's tongue, then his lips, on his skin. It was an explanation he wouldn't require, and Richard Jury smiled.
Fandom: Richard Jury Mysteries
Genre: Pre-Slash; Slash, First time, AO
Characters: Richard Jury/Melrose Plant. Canonical het pairings (Richard) are referenced/implied.
Word count: 2400
More Stories: Visit the Story Page
Disclaimer: Not mine. No money being made. No copyright infringement intended.
Spoilers: Mild for 'The Case Has Altered' - mainly for the Richard-angst. Little plot-spoiler.
Story Notes: Set immediately after The Case Has Altered. Takes no account of any canonical events after this time (because they hadn't happened yet...). For
seraphina_snape, who prodded me *vbg*
Summary: Richard Jury has been involved in a car accident, and is recuperating at Ardry End. He is taking stock of his life and relationships, and comes to a startling conclusion.
Dutch Courage
'Don't you think that someone who really cared for you would confide in you?' Superintendent Richard Jury's own words taunted him. There was his answer, right there in the question he'd asked his friend Melrose Plant when Jenny was still a suspect. Plant hadn't essayed an answer - just offered him a piece of his toast, cut into soldiers.
Jennifer Kennington hadn't confided in him. Hadn't told him anything, really, neither out loud nor in the awkward coupling he'd welcomed then wished undone. She'd kept herself firmly closed away from him, sharing her body - charily, Jury remembered - but not her mind, her emotions, her heart. He, of course, had been ready to be her fool. Just another poor choice amongst a lifetime of them.
The only conclusion possible was the obvious one. Jenny Kennington didn't care. Did not care enough, at any rate.
Jury supposed that Carole-anne, at least, would be pleased. And Plant? Jenny had been on that absurd list he'd made. Crossed off, he remembered dully, Plant at pains to assure him that Jenny was not 'his type'. No, Jury thought. Plant had his faults, but he was a good friend. His best friend? The thought came unbidden. Did grown men have 'best friends'?
Whatever label you chose, Jury reflected, Plant was important to him. Here he was, after all. Lucky to have escaped the smash on the icy country road with a sprained back and nothing worse. When the doctor had ordered him to bed for three weeks, Plant had insisted and Jury had, truth be told, been glad to acquiesce. His own flat, even adorned with Carole-anne as ministering angel, was a cold second to Ardry End.
"Richard!" Melrose Plant interrupted his funk, reentering the drawing room. "Agatha's on her way. Come upstairs. We'll leave the cakes here and she wont miss us." Jury twisted a smile, and Plant crossed to his side and offered an arm. Stiffly, Jury clambered out of his chair. "You're improving," Melrose encouraged.
Richard had been allowed up a week ago. He certainly looked much better than he had a month ago, Melrose considered. Perhaps the doctor who had jovially discharged him had been right after all. At the time, Melrose had wanted to argue. He'd started to talk about medical misadventure, only silenced when Jury, grey faced, shaking with pain, had snapped "Plant, I'm not dying. Will you please get us out of this godforsaken place?"
Against his better judgement, Melrose had complied. Richard hadn't spoken again on the drive to Long Piddleton. Melrose thought he had been drowsing from the painkillers, finally kicking in. On their arrival, Ruthven had rushed out, fussing, Melrose had thought. Yet somehow Ruthven had got Jury inside and into the prepared bed in the downstairs study before Melrose had so much as got out of his gloves and coat.
Melrose had been surprised to find himself feeling put out at not being required. He'd retreated to the drawing room and was pouring himself a steadying port when Ruthven reappeared. "My lord, Mr Jury is asking for you."
Jury had been pale as the sheet, even in the warm lamplight. Impulsively, Melrose had stepped to the bed and closed his hand over Richard's. "You'll be right as rain, once you've had a good night's sleep." Even at the time, Melrose had known he was prattling.
Jury, however, had summoned a smile. "I'd like to think so." He'd pressed Melrose's fingers briefly, then closed his eyes. "Thank you, my friend."
Now, Melrose and Jury climbed the stairs, Jury leaning heavily on his friend's arm. They heard the bell as they achieved sanctuary in the master bedroom. "Gone awa-a-ay," Melrose hallooed softly.
Jury laughed. "Now, tell me you've got at least a decanter or two hidden away up here. We deserve a stirrup cup."
"I can rustle something up." Melrose helped Jury to the bed. "Put your feet up."
"All right." Jury lowered himself to the bed with a sigh, and submitted to Plant fluffing pillows. The helplessness angered him, but he wouldn't snap at Plant, who did his best not to let Jury feel it. He did feel it, of course, but that wasn't Plant's fault. No more than the mess with Jenny had been.
Jury's frown caught Melrose's attention. "Are you in pain, Richard?"
"Nothing a stiff whiskey wont fix."
Melrose hesitated. "Perhaps your pills...?" He looked at Jury inquiringly.
"No." Jury shook his head. "It's not that kind of pain." Melrose blinked at him, confused. "I was thinking about Jenny."
"Oh." Comprehension dawned in Plant's eyes, and he quickly went to the dresser, extracting glasses and a new bottle of single malt from what looked to Jury like a sock drawer.
"Only an Earl..." he said meaningfully.
"Ex-Earl," Melrose said automatically. "Anyway, I don't know what you're complaining about. It's coming in handy, isn't it?"
Jury ignored him. "About Jenny." He closed his eyes, wondering whether the thought of her would always, now, feel like a clutching hand on his entrails. "Listen. If you think... well, if you wanted to see her..."
"No." Melrose interrupted him, aggrieved. "Richard, just what sort of friend do you think I am?"
"That's just it. That's why I'm saying - if you want to - I wouldn't - well, I wouldn't stop you. That's all."
"Even if I wanted to, which I don't, I wouldn't." Melrose's voice was firm and final, and Jury opened his eyes again, relieved. He'd hoped - even expected - that Melrose would respond as he had.
"You know, I've been doing a lot of thinking since I've been laid up. Haven't had much else to do, after all." Silently, Melrose delivered a whiskey and soda to the nightstand at Jury's elbow, and took his own to the window seat. Richard was evidently feeling eloquent.
"Remember I asked you what you thought about me and women?"
"Yes," Melrose agreed cautiously. If he remembered correctly, on the occasion Jury was referring to his next question had been "Am I doomed?" Not particularly cheery. Still, it was hardly surprising that his friend's reflections on Lady Kennington were taking a gloomy path.
"Well, you never did give me your opinion, did you? What do you think?"
"If I remember correctly, the reason I didn't answer was because you started talking about women falling all over me. Which, as I pointed out, is blatantly false."
"That's still not an answer. And they do. Fall all over you, that is. No, don't argue." Jury raised his hand, and Melrose found himself obediently closing his mouth.
"Anyway," Jury continued, "I was thinking about this nightmare with Jenny. You know, I caused a lot of it. I wanted it to be more than it was, and then I blamed her when she didn't play the role I wanted her to play."
"She's used you pretty thoroughly over the years."
"I allow it." Jury shrugged. "I can't blame her." He sighed. "You know, I could never sit and talk with her like I do with - well, you, for the sake of example. I've only realised that these last few weeks. It's odd, I mean, how could I have been contemplating being with someone - marrying someone - if I cant have a conversation with them? With Jenny, it has always been meaningful looks, or one of us storming off. You never met Jane - but, do you know, I was going to ask her to marry me, and I'd actually told her a couple of days beforehand that I couldn't picture any room in her house except the bedroom. How can that be the basis for a lifetime commitment?" Jury stopped, breath coming quickly.
Melrose looked at him sympathetically. "All those self-help books say that friendship's a key component," he suggested.
Jury gave a short laugh. "So, I should marry you. Simple."
"I don't think the point is that you should marry your friends, Richard. You're supposed to make friends with the women that you love."
"There's the problem, then. That just doesn't work for me. Anyway, I think we've established it's a proven fact that any relationship I have with a woman is doomed."
"Don't be ridiculous, Richard. You just haven't met the right woman yet." Melrose thought he sounded unconvincing, even to himself.
*********************
Melrose Plant arrived home at ten o'clock, after a convivial evening at the Jack and Hammer with Diane and Trueblood. Richard Jury had insisted Melrose go, taking the telephone out of his hand and accepting on his behalf when Melrose had hesitated.
"I don't need a babysitter," Jury had told him, amused. "I'll hold the castle against invaders."
"Not if it's Agatha."
"Oh, if it's Agatha, I'll immediately surrender. Then fall asleep in a chair and snore. I'm an invalid, remember - I cant be accused of bad manners."
"How's Richard?" Melrose asked Ruthven, as he was divested of his coat.
"Mr Jury retired to bed an hour ago, my lord."
"Oh. All right, then." Melrose spoke briefly to Mindy, ensconced before the fire in the drawing room, then decided to go to bed himself.
Entering his bedroom, he was surprised to find Richard Jury sprawled on his bed, leaning back against the pillows. The whiskey bottle they had broached when avoiding Agatha two days ago was on the nightstand and, Melrose noticed, the tide had sunk considerably lower than when he had seen it last.
Jury saluted Melrose with an empty glass. "Plant! You're back!"
'More than a little tipsy,' thought Melrose. "Yes. Is everything all right, Richard?" It was rare that he'd seen his friend over-indulge. He'd certainly never known Richard to sit at home alone and polish off nearly half a bottle of whiskey.
"Fine." Jury was slurring a little, but his eyes were clear.
"So - ah - why are you in my room, Richard?"
"Wanted to talk to you. Important." Jury blinked slowly, nodded. "Something important to say."
"Well, I'm here now."
"Come and sit down." Jury patted the bed, and Melrose perched next to him. "I've been thinking. About what we were talking about the other day. About women. Melrose, you're my best friend." Jury gestured with his glass again. "Needed - needed Dutch courage to tell you. You understand?"
"I understand." Melrose patted Jury's arm reassuringly. If his friend needed to get drunk and maudlin, well, he understood that. The disaster with Jenny, followed by the car accident - it was too much. The man was entitled to a bender.
Jury put his glass on the nightstand and sat up, bringing himself face to face with Melrose. "Glad you understand." He paused. "Sorry I couldn't tell you sober."
Melrose opened his mouth to tell Richard not to worry, but was forestalled. Richard put his hands on Melrose's shoulders, and kissed him.
One part of Melrose's brain reeled in shock. 'What the hell...? No, no, I didn't understand...' On another level, he was aware of the taste of the whiskey in Richard's mouth, fire and peat. A third part objectively noted that Melrose wasn't fighting. In fact... Melrose realised with a jolt that he was responding to the bruising thrill of Richard's lips on his, his mouth as hard and hungry as Richard's as he kissed him back.
Panting, Melrose looked into his friend's eyes. 'No wonder he needed Dutch courage,' he thought suddenly. His mind was still reeling, but he knew, assuredly, knew in a deep, ancient, wise part of himself he'd never delved before that this was right and true. The light he could see in Richard's eyes was reflected, he knew, in his own.
He leaned forward and kissed Richard again. Richard's hands moved from his shoulders, as he tentatively raised a hand to Melrose's neck. Melrose shivered at the fingers light on his skin and mirrored Jury's movement, his own hand coming to rest at the back of Jury's neck.
"Melrose?" Richard said huskily.
"Richard." Melrose found his voice was unsteady. He leaned forward and pushed Richard back down on the bed. "Let me - make sure we are not disturbed." Quickly he got up and locked the door. Ruthven could think what he liked. As an afterthought, he switched off the light.
Melrose returned to the bed and awkwardly lay down next to Jury. He felt a qualm, but before it could resolve itself, his mouth was claimed by Richard's and his body shook with recognition. Blood surged through his veins like a victory march and Melrose fumbled in the dark with Jury's shirt. Richard's hands were pulling at his clothing, and they managed, somehow, tearing at buttons.
The dark was welcome, Melrose thought. He knew he was blushing at what Richard's hands were doing. And if the light had been on, if he could have felt Richard's eyes on him, he wouldn't have been brave enough - there - to lick, then bite gently, at his friend's neck, before angling lower.
Richard groaned, and arched back as Melrose's teeth grazed his nipple. Plant would be furious if he knew Jury had poured half a bottle of his best whiskey down the bathroom sink. One small glass was all the Dutch courage he'd needed. But if Melrose hadn't responded - hadn't wanted this - a half empty bottle of whiskey was as good an explanation as any for Jury's behaviour.
He sighed at the feel of Melrose's tongue, then his lips, on his skin. It was an explanation he wouldn't require, and Richard Jury smiled.