fanfic: Captain's Orders
Title: Captain's Orders
Author: txorakeriak
Fandom: Hornblower
Pairing: Hornblower/Bush
Rating: G
Summary: Bush knows that his captain's kindness is limited on the Hotspur and he also knows that he does not deserve any of it in his current condition.
Word Count: 782
Author's Note: Written for quietcontrary, who took part in my friends survey ( My Big Damn Fic/Art Table) and prompted "sneeze".
My eternal thanks go to the ever-patient phantomsangel for the faster than light and most helpful beta. *smoochglomp*
*****
For what had to be the twentieth time within half an hour, Hornblower buried his head in his hands, unable and unwilling to look at the unfinished letter in front of him. He couldn't explain why it was always so difficult to write to Maria, why the right words just didn't come to his mind when they were needed the most. Even though Hornblower had never been good with wods, writing to the Admiralty was far easier than writing Maria.
Maria deserved hearing from him, especially since it must have seemed like an eternity for her since she had last seen her husband. She always told him that when he got back, told him how long he had been gone and how much she had missed him. It always surprised him to hear that from her, to realize how long he had actually been at sea when he hadn't even noticed it. He would never tell her that he never got homesick, not even once, and that the only thoughts he dedicated to his wife concerned his duty to write to her. He did his best not to give her ideas.
With a sigh, he dipped his quill into the ink jar again and continued writing when suddenly, he heard a loud sneeze behind him and jerked around. The ink smudged on the paper.
For a moment, Hornblower was angry and didn't think about anything else but the ruined letter. He wanted to chide the inconsiderate intruder - had he even knocked? Hornblower couldn't remember - but when he actually faced him, the words stuck in his throat.
Bush looked rather miserable, and he had to feel even worse. His nose was red and swollen, his eyes watery.
Worry and guilt grew inside Hornblower, adding to a curious mix inside him. How could he not have noticed that Bush was unwell? Had he been so preoccupied with his duty to his country and his duty to his wife that he completely forgot about his duty to his shipmate, especially such a good man as William Bush?
"I beg your pardon, sir," Bush said hoarsely, a silent plea for mercy in his eyes as he interrupted Hornblower's thoughts. He knew that his captain's kindness was limited on the Hotspur, and he knew that he did not deserve any of it in his current condition.
But Hornblower surprised him. "It's all right, Mr Bush," he said, giving his first lieutenant an almost invisible, rather pitiful smile. "What is it?"
"The…" And there Bush sneezed again, almost all over Hornblower. "Oh God, I'm so sorry, sir," he apologized immediately, his face flushed while his hands hastily moved to the pocket of his coat to get his handkerchief.
It took a while until Hornblower realized that Bush would probably never find it, so he reached into his own pocket, took out his handkerchief and offered it to him.
"It's all right," he said again, flashing him a quick, friendly smile. If he had violated his duty before, he would do his best to make up for it.
"Thank you very much, sir." He could barely speak, but there was nothing that could make William Bush forego propriety.
For an instant, their fingers touched as Bush reached for the piece of cloth, and even though his hands were icy cold, Hornblower felt a hot tingle at his fingertips which, only an instant later, seemed to crawl through his whole body.
Lowering his gaze, he pulled his hand back and swallowed.
Bush blew his nose audibly, then put the handkerchief into his own pocket. "I will have it washed for you, sir."
Hornblower smiled hesitantly, almost uncomfortably. "You should be in bed, Mr Bush," he said finally, his voice low and a bit shaky. "You will catch a fever if you don't take care of yourself."
"Sir, I am needed--"
"As are we all, each and every moment of our lives. But we should not let duty get us killed before our time. Let me accompany you to your cabin. I will send Doughty for some hot tea afterwards."
Bush gave him a grateful look. "Thank you, sir," he whispered.
Hornblower shook his head as he guided Bush out of the cabin. "There is no need," he said quietly. "I am just doing my duty as a captain."
The look he gave Bush, so full of honest worry and fear about his closest friend's health betrayed his words.
And Bush immediately realized that he had to do his very best to recover as quickly as possible. Not just because King and country needed him, but because Hornblower needed him.
This knowledge was the best medicine he could imagine.
Author: txorakeriak
Fandom: Hornblower
Pairing: Hornblower/Bush
Rating: G
Summary: Bush knows that his captain's kindness is limited on the Hotspur and he also knows that he does not deserve any of it in his current condition.
Word Count: 782
Author's Note: Written for quietcontrary, who took part in my friends survey ( My Big Damn Fic/Art Table) and prompted "sneeze".
My eternal thanks go to the ever-patient phantomsangel for the faster than light and most helpful beta. *smoochglomp*
*****
For what had to be the twentieth time within half an hour, Hornblower buried his head in his hands, unable and unwilling to look at the unfinished letter in front of him. He couldn't explain why it was always so difficult to write to Maria, why the right words just didn't come to his mind when they were needed the most. Even though Hornblower had never been good with wods, writing to the Admiralty was far easier than writing Maria.
Maria deserved hearing from him, especially since it must have seemed like an eternity for her since she had last seen her husband. She always told him that when he got back, told him how long he had been gone and how much she had missed him. It always surprised him to hear that from her, to realize how long he had actually been at sea when he hadn't even noticed it. He would never tell her that he never got homesick, not even once, and that the only thoughts he dedicated to his wife concerned his duty to write to her. He did his best not to give her ideas.
With a sigh, he dipped his quill into the ink jar again and continued writing when suddenly, he heard a loud sneeze behind him and jerked around. The ink smudged on the paper.
For a moment, Hornblower was angry and didn't think about anything else but the ruined letter. He wanted to chide the inconsiderate intruder - had he even knocked? Hornblower couldn't remember - but when he actually faced him, the words stuck in his throat.
Bush looked rather miserable, and he had to feel even worse. His nose was red and swollen, his eyes watery.
Worry and guilt grew inside Hornblower, adding to a curious mix inside him. How could he not have noticed that Bush was unwell? Had he been so preoccupied with his duty to his country and his duty to his wife that he completely forgot about his duty to his shipmate, especially such a good man as William Bush?
"I beg your pardon, sir," Bush said hoarsely, a silent plea for mercy in his eyes as he interrupted Hornblower's thoughts. He knew that his captain's kindness was limited on the Hotspur, and he knew that he did not deserve any of it in his current condition.
But Hornblower surprised him. "It's all right, Mr Bush," he said, giving his first lieutenant an almost invisible, rather pitiful smile. "What is it?"
"The…" And there Bush sneezed again, almost all over Hornblower. "Oh God, I'm so sorry, sir," he apologized immediately, his face flushed while his hands hastily moved to the pocket of his coat to get his handkerchief.
It took a while until Hornblower realized that Bush would probably never find it, so he reached into his own pocket, took out his handkerchief and offered it to him.
"It's all right," he said again, flashing him a quick, friendly smile. If he had violated his duty before, he would do his best to make up for it.
"Thank you very much, sir." He could barely speak, but there was nothing that could make William Bush forego propriety.
For an instant, their fingers touched as Bush reached for the piece of cloth, and even though his hands were icy cold, Hornblower felt a hot tingle at his fingertips which, only an instant later, seemed to crawl through his whole body.
Lowering his gaze, he pulled his hand back and swallowed.
Bush blew his nose audibly, then put the handkerchief into his own pocket. "I will have it washed for you, sir."
Hornblower smiled hesitantly, almost uncomfortably. "You should be in bed, Mr Bush," he said finally, his voice low and a bit shaky. "You will catch a fever if you don't take care of yourself."
"Sir, I am needed--"
"As are we all, each and every moment of our lives. But we should not let duty get us killed before our time. Let me accompany you to your cabin. I will send Doughty for some hot tea afterwards."
Bush gave him a grateful look. "Thank you, sir," he whispered.
Hornblower shook his head as he guided Bush out of the cabin. "There is no need," he said quietly. "I am just doing my duty as a captain."
The look he gave Bush, so full of honest worry and fear about his closest friend's health betrayed his words.
And Bush immediately realized that he had to do his very best to recover as quickly as possible. Not just because King and country needed him, but because Hornblower needed him.
This knowledge was the best medicine he could imagine.