Sleeping Beauty (4/5)
Title: Sleeping Beauty
Fandom: Hornblower.
Characters/Pairing: Archie/Horatio
Disclaimer: All recognisable characters belong to CS Forrester, and possibly A&E/Meridian.
Summary: A slightly odd version of Sleeping Beauty based on Hornblower. Or a very odd version of Hornblower based on Sleeping Beauty.
Rating: PG-13 for swearing
Notes: It is not possible to write an Archie fic without there being an angsty bit. This is that bit.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Chapter 4
In which the prince has a mental breakdown. (What? That happens in every fairytale.)
It was mid-afternoon, and any sensible person would have been finishing up a nice siesta but, like many Englishmen in hot countries, Archie couldn’t bear to waste the sunshine. He couldn’t get used to the idea that it wasn’t suddenly going to disappear in a flurry of cloud and rain. Besides, Archie had spent more than enough time asleep indoors recently. His afternoons these days were spent out in the garden, reading a book in the shade of an old pergola which was overgrown with roses and reminded him of one of Hether’s shirts. Horatio, who had had considerably less sleep than Archie of late, had taken to the whole siesta concept like a duck to water and happily spent the hottest part of the day snoozing in his room.
It had taken Archie a while to reach this point. He had felt safe in the villa even as he had felt trapped. Illogical though it was, he couldn’t shake the idea that the house was somehow protecting him, that if he stepped outside its walls then Jack would somehow know where he was and reappear to destroy everything all over again. Even when Horatio had explained that Jack wouldn’t be bothering them, or anyone else, ever again, Archie had been reluctant. Was Horatio sure? Was Jack really dead? Had Pellew really run him over or was it some sort of trick or mistake? Had Horatio really seen it with his own eyes? Even if he was dead, what did it matter? What did he need to go outside for anyway? He was fine here with Horatio.
Slowly, Horatio had encouraged him to go out. Sitting by the open window, feeling the warm breeze on his face, had been fine. Enjoyable, even. Going out onto the veranda had been a bigger step but, after several false starts he had sat outside for five minutes then ten, then thirty. He had moved gradually into the unkempt garden, supporting himself on Horatio’s arm when needed, and now spent much of his time there, planning what he would do with it once he had the strength to do some serious weeding. He had yet to venture beyond the confines of the garden but he would do so soon.
The shadows of the trees told him it was time Horatio was up and about so he put down his book and stood up slowly. He was still a little unsteady on his feet and it took a while for his legs to obey his brain’s instructions after he had been immobile for a few hours. Getting out of bed was the worst. He headed towards Horatio’s room, detouring via the kitchen for a couple of cold glasses of orange juice. Horatio wasn’t in his room and Archie felt a brief moment of panic before he got a grip and told himself not to be so stupid. Horatio wasn’t just going to disappear into thin air; obviously he was already awake and was somewhere else in the house.
Archie found him on the veranda, shirtless and barefoot, leaning over the balustrade and looking out at the view. He turned and smiled at Archie’s approach, and Archie was reminded forcefully of their first meeting when Horatio had stunned him to his core by the simple act of drying out his shirt. “Thank you,” Horatio said, accepting the glass Archie offered him. His eyes were still a little heavy with sleep and his rumpled hair, normally so neat and well cared for but now in desperate need of a cut, fluttered in the light breeze. Even with the time they had spent together, Archie couldn’t get used to seeing him like this. He wondered if he ever would.
Afraid of doing something stupid like lunging at him or crying like a girl, Archie turned away and went to sit in one of the chairs. Horatio came to join him and they sat for some time, enjoying the warm afternoon and each other’s company.
A sound on the path made him turn. It was Catalina coming round the side of the house. She smiled and waved at them, and Archie could not miss the smile Horatio gave her in return. He waved somewhat glumly and greeted her in his gradually improving Spanish.
“I come bearing gifts,” she said in English, her language skills much better than his. She indicated the basket she carried, which was full of fruit.
“You shouldn’t have,” Horatio said, his Spanish already much better than Archie’s, despite never having studied it before coming here. Probably from all the late nights with Catalina while Archie was delirious. “There was really no need.” There really wasn’t. Archie no longer required her help and Horatio could go to the village for whatever they needed. And yet here she was, on what seemed to him an almost daily basis, popping in to see how they were and to have a chat. She was a nice woman, and Archie was very grateful to her, but he couldn’t help wishing she would just go away.
She came up the veranda steps and offered the basket to Horatio. He invited her to sit down and she did so, eyeing his torso as she stepped past him. Horatio’s overdeveloped sense of propriety caused him to blush and he excused himself and hurried inside. Archie shook his head. Catalina picked a plum from the basket and handed it to him. “I admit, I brought these mostly for you,” she said. “Men do not know how to look after themselves, especially young men. Young men who have been ill are the worst.” She smiled at him and he could not help smiling back. It was almost impossible not to like her, even when she was mothering him to the point of madness.
Horatio reappeared, now clad in a t-shirt, and the three of them sat together and shared the bounty Catalina had brought, laughing and fending off the wasps who tried to share it with them. At least, Horatio and Catalina laughed; Archie did most of the wasp-fending. After a couple of hours Catalina, having reassured herself that they weren’t starving to death, stood to leave. “Are you sure you are both alright? Living in a foreign country and it’s so isolated up here, just the two of you. Aren’t you sick of each other’s company?” Archie glanced at Horatio but Horatio was looking at Catalina.
“I don’t think I could ever get tired of Archie’s company,” Horatio said. Archie froze in the act of lifting his glass to his lips. Horatio’s face was perfectly clear and untroubled, as if he had said nothing out of the ordinary. As indeed he hadn’t. Only Archie’s racing mind could wonder about so innocent a statement.
“Horatio spends so much time asleep, I don’t actually see him that much,” Archie said, saying the first thing that came to mind as he struggled to get his thoughts in order.
Catalina looked between them in bemusement, then shook her head and smiled. She said something in rapid Spanish under her breath that Archie couldn’t quite catch. He thought might have been along the lines of ‘Oh for God’s sake’. She said her goodbyes and left them. Archie concentrated on clearing the table, before it became completely lost under all the wasps. He did not look at Horatio but was very aware of being watched by him.
He carried the plates and glasses into the kitchen and dumped them in the sink. He was about to turn the tap on when Horatio’s hand on his arm stopped him. “Is everything alright, Archie?”
“Everything’s fine, Horatio. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know. You don’t seem yourself.”
“Myself? And what exactly would ‘myself’ be like? Tell me, I’m dying to know. What’s so special about myself that you would care so much about me staying that way?" Archie said, startling himself as much as Horatio. "Is there some version of myself that isn’t weak and cowardly? Some version that doesn’t allow itself to be used? Some version that doesn’t run away and hide? That isn’t afraid all the time? That can live happily with its best friend without-” Archie closed his eyes and gripped the edge of the sink, breathing hard.
“Archie, what on earth? What are you- Archie?” Horatio sounded bewildered, as well he might. Archie laughed, and knew it sounded hysterical. He was probably scaring the crap out of Horatio right now. He tried to pull himself together, something he had got good at, but it didn’t seem to be working this time. The life he had built here with Horatio was fragile, and he could feel it cracking around him. He jumped when he felt Horatio’s hands on his shoulders. He kept his focus on his own hands; the knuckles had turned white. “Archie, please talk to me. Please. You have to talk to me, please.” The sound of Horatio begging, so unlike him, so heartbreaking, dragged a memory from the corner of Archie’s mind where it had been hiding. ‘Please stay, Archie. Please be alright, Archie. Please don’t die, Archie’. A single sob escaped him and Horatio’s fingers tightened on his shoulders. He felt a weight settle on the back of his head and realised Horatio had rested his forehead there; he could feel his breath on the back of his neck. He took a shuddering breath.
“Horatio,” he said with difficulty. “Please don’t touch me.” It wasn’t what he meant to say at all but he could hardly think straight as it was without Horatio being so close to him. He regretted the words instantly as Horatio let go and stepped away from him. Archie whirled round.
“I’m sorry, Archie. I didn’t mean to- I’m not very good at this. I wanted to comfort you but obviously I got it wrong.” Horatio looked awkward and hurt, and very far away on the other side of the kitchen. “I would never want to upset you. I’m sorry, I crossed a line. I shouldn’t have.”
“You idiot,” Archie said, half-sobbing, half-laughing. Horatio frowned. “You complete idiot. You didn’t cross any line. I just- I can’t handle you being that close to me, not right now. It’s too much. You’re too much. It’s all I want. And then what? You’re the best thing in my life and I couldn’t stand not having that. What would I do then? So you can’t touch me. Not right now. It’s too much.” The frown cleared from Horatio’s face; understanding seemed to dawn. “Oh, you get it now do you? Took you long enough. Have you really been clueless all this time? How could you not know? Or have you just been stringing me along? Did you like it? Knowing I’ve become so fucking dependent on you I’d rather live like this, looking and never touching, rather than risk losing you?”
Horatio physically recoiled at the accusation, stepping back until the wall prevented him from going further. Archie knew it was unfair trying to turn his own self-loathing onto Horatio, but the words had been said now and he couldn’t take them back. Nor could he take back the look on Horatio’s face, though he wished he could.
“Is that really what you think of me, Archie? You think I would do that? Do you really think that’s why I’m here?” Archie shook his head and buried his face in his hands. He knew perfectly well that Horatio would never do such a thing and he couldn’t believe he’d said it. He couldn’t even look at him. They had begun to be happy again and he had gone and ruined everything. The knowledge that Jack had won gnawed at him. He should have known that being dead would have done nothing to stop him.
The tears that had been threatening since he entered the kitchen could no longer be held back and soon he was crying so hard he almost didn’t notice when Horatio put his arms around him. Almost. He tried to pull away but Horatio held on and Archie didn’t really want to put up much of a fight. He didn’t know how long they stood there, Horatio’s arms wrapped tightly around Archie’s shaking shoulders, but when he pulled away the kitchen was dark and the window showed a sky burning orange and pink as the sun went down. A few tremors still shuddered his body but the worst seemed to be over. He hadn’t cried like that since he was a kid. He felt very, very embarrassed and wondered if he’d ever be able to look at Horatio again.
“Feel better?” Horatio said.
“A little,” Archie said, keeping his eyes on the large wet mark on the front of Horatio’s t-shirt.
“Good,” Horatio said. “I did the right thing then?” He sounded worried.
“What?”
“I know I hugged you after you expressly told me not to, but I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t exactly leave you there like that could I? I’m not a very tactile person but I know you are, so I thought it would be the best thing to do. I didn’t make things worse did I?” He sounded so anxious that Archie burst out laughing. Horatio, so good in a crisis, even an emotional crisis it seemed, was apparently at a loss now the crisis was over.
“You did the right thing, Horatio. Thank you.” He finally got the nerve to look up at Horatio and was surprised to find his eyes were blood-shot and red-rimmed. Without thinking, Archie brushed away the dampness under his eyes, frowning.
“Do you think it doesn’t hurt me to see you like this? You don’t think very much of me, do you?” Horatio said. Archie started at this. How could he say that? He thought the world of Horatio. Before he could collect his thoughts enough to respond, Horatio spoke again. “You should get some sleep, Archie. Get into bed and I’ll make some tea.” That commanding tone was back in his voice and it was easier to acquiesce than to argue. Archie went to bed and, despite thinking he couldn’t possibly sleep with his mind churning the way it was, was asleep before Horatio could even bring him his tea.
Fandom: Hornblower.
Characters/Pairing: Archie/Horatio
Disclaimer: All recognisable characters belong to CS Forrester, and possibly A&E/Meridian.
Summary: A slightly odd version of Sleeping Beauty based on Hornblower. Or a very odd version of Hornblower based on Sleeping Beauty.
Rating: PG-13 for swearing
Notes: It is not possible to write an Archie fic without there being an angsty bit. This is that bit.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Chapter 4
In which the prince has a mental breakdown. (What? That happens in every fairytale.)
It was mid-afternoon, and any sensible person would have been finishing up a nice siesta but, like many Englishmen in hot countries, Archie couldn’t bear to waste the sunshine. He couldn’t get used to the idea that it wasn’t suddenly going to disappear in a flurry of cloud and rain. Besides, Archie had spent more than enough time asleep indoors recently. His afternoons these days were spent out in the garden, reading a book in the shade of an old pergola which was overgrown with roses and reminded him of one of Hether’s shirts. Horatio, who had had considerably less sleep than Archie of late, had taken to the whole siesta concept like a duck to water and happily spent the hottest part of the day snoozing in his room.
It had taken Archie a while to reach this point. He had felt safe in the villa even as he had felt trapped. Illogical though it was, he couldn’t shake the idea that the house was somehow protecting him, that if he stepped outside its walls then Jack would somehow know where he was and reappear to destroy everything all over again. Even when Horatio had explained that Jack wouldn’t be bothering them, or anyone else, ever again, Archie had been reluctant. Was Horatio sure? Was Jack really dead? Had Pellew really run him over or was it some sort of trick or mistake? Had Horatio really seen it with his own eyes? Even if he was dead, what did it matter? What did he need to go outside for anyway? He was fine here with Horatio.
Slowly, Horatio had encouraged him to go out. Sitting by the open window, feeling the warm breeze on his face, had been fine. Enjoyable, even. Going out onto the veranda had been a bigger step but, after several false starts he had sat outside for five minutes then ten, then thirty. He had moved gradually into the unkempt garden, supporting himself on Horatio’s arm when needed, and now spent much of his time there, planning what he would do with it once he had the strength to do some serious weeding. He had yet to venture beyond the confines of the garden but he would do so soon.
The shadows of the trees told him it was time Horatio was up and about so he put down his book and stood up slowly. He was still a little unsteady on his feet and it took a while for his legs to obey his brain’s instructions after he had been immobile for a few hours. Getting out of bed was the worst. He headed towards Horatio’s room, detouring via the kitchen for a couple of cold glasses of orange juice. Horatio wasn’t in his room and Archie felt a brief moment of panic before he got a grip and told himself not to be so stupid. Horatio wasn’t just going to disappear into thin air; obviously he was already awake and was somewhere else in the house.
Archie found him on the veranda, shirtless and barefoot, leaning over the balustrade and looking out at the view. He turned and smiled at Archie’s approach, and Archie was reminded forcefully of their first meeting when Horatio had stunned him to his core by the simple act of drying out his shirt. “Thank you,” Horatio said, accepting the glass Archie offered him. His eyes were still a little heavy with sleep and his rumpled hair, normally so neat and well cared for but now in desperate need of a cut, fluttered in the light breeze. Even with the time they had spent together, Archie couldn’t get used to seeing him like this. He wondered if he ever would.
Afraid of doing something stupid like lunging at him or crying like a girl, Archie turned away and went to sit in one of the chairs. Horatio came to join him and they sat for some time, enjoying the warm afternoon and each other’s company.
A sound on the path made him turn. It was Catalina coming round the side of the house. She smiled and waved at them, and Archie could not miss the smile Horatio gave her in return. He waved somewhat glumly and greeted her in his gradually improving Spanish.
“I come bearing gifts,” she said in English, her language skills much better than his. She indicated the basket she carried, which was full of fruit.
“You shouldn’t have,” Horatio said, his Spanish already much better than Archie’s, despite never having studied it before coming here. Probably from all the late nights with Catalina while Archie was delirious. “There was really no need.” There really wasn’t. Archie no longer required her help and Horatio could go to the village for whatever they needed. And yet here she was, on what seemed to him an almost daily basis, popping in to see how they were and to have a chat. She was a nice woman, and Archie was very grateful to her, but he couldn’t help wishing she would just go away.
She came up the veranda steps and offered the basket to Horatio. He invited her to sit down and she did so, eyeing his torso as she stepped past him. Horatio’s overdeveloped sense of propriety caused him to blush and he excused himself and hurried inside. Archie shook his head. Catalina picked a plum from the basket and handed it to him. “I admit, I brought these mostly for you,” she said. “Men do not know how to look after themselves, especially young men. Young men who have been ill are the worst.” She smiled at him and he could not help smiling back. It was almost impossible not to like her, even when she was mothering him to the point of madness.
Horatio reappeared, now clad in a t-shirt, and the three of them sat together and shared the bounty Catalina had brought, laughing and fending off the wasps who tried to share it with them. At least, Horatio and Catalina laughed; Archie did most of the wasp-fending. After a couple of hours Catalina, having reassured herself that they weren’t starving to death, stood to leave. “Are you sure you are both alright? Living in a foreign country and it’s so isolated up here, just the two of you. Aren’t you sick of each other’s company?” Archie glanced at Horatio but Horatio was looking at Catalina.
“I don’t think I could ever get tired of Archie’s company,” Horatio said. Archie froze in the act of lifting his glass to his lips. Horatio’s face was perfectly clear and untroubled, as if he had said nothing out of the ordinary. As indeed he hadn’t. Only Archie’s racing mind could wonder about so innocent a statement.
“Horatio spends so much time asleep, I don’t actually see him that much,” Archie said, saying the first thing that came to mind as he struggled to get his thoughts in order.
Catalina looked between them in bemusement, then shook her head and smiled. She said something in rapid Spanish under her breath that Archie couldn’t quite catch. He thought might have been along the lines of ‘Oh for God’s sake’. She said her goodbyes and left them. Archie concentrated on clearing the table, before it became completely lost under all the wasps. He did not look at Horatio but was very aware of being watched by him.
He carried the plates and glasses into the kitchen and dumped them in the sink. He was about to turn the tap on when Horatio’s hand on his arm stopped him. “Is everything alright, Archie?”
“Everything’s fine, Horatio. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know. You don’t seem yourself.”
“Myself? And what exactly would ‘myself’ be like? Tell me, I’m dying to know. What’s so special about myself that you would care so much about me staying that way?" Archie said, startling himself as much as Horatio. "Is there some version of myself that isn’t weak and cowardly? Some version that doesn’t allow itself to be used? Some version that doesn’t run away and hide? That isn’t afraid all the time? That can live happily with its best friend without-” Archie closed his eyes and gripped the edge of the sink, breathing hard.
“Archie, what on earth? What are you- Archie?” Horatio sounded bewildered, as well he might. Archie laughed, and knew it sounded hysterical. He was probably scaring the crap out of Horatio right now. He tried to pull himself together, something he had got good at, but it didn’t seem to be working this time. The life he had built here with Horatio was fragile, and he could feel it cracking around him. He jumped when he felt Horatio’s hands on his shoulders. He kept his focus on his own hands; the knuckles had turned white. “Archie, please talk to me. Please. You have to talk to me, please.” The sound of Horatio begging, so unlike him, so heartbreaking, dragged a memory from the corner of Archie’s mind where it had been hiding. ‘Please stay, Archie. Please be alright, Archie. Please don’t die, Archie’. A single sob escaped him and Horatio’s fingers tightened on his shoulders. He felt a weight settle on the back of his head and realised Horatio had rested his forehead there; he could feel his breath on the back of his neck. He took a shuddering breath.
“Horatio,” he said with difficulty. “Please don’t touch me.” It wasn’t what he meant to say at all but he could hardly think straight as it was without Horatio being so close to him. He regretted the words instantly as Horatio let go and stepped away from him. Archie whirled round.
“I’m sorry, Archie. I didn’t mean to- I’m not very good at this. I wanted to comfort you but obviously I got it wrong.” Horatio looked awkward and hurt, and very far away on the other side of the kitchen. “I would never want to upset you. I’m sorry, I crossed a line. I shouldn’t have.”
“You idiot,” Archie said, half-sobbing, half-laughing. Horatio frowned. “You complete idiot. You didn’t cross any line. I just- I can’t handle you being that close to me, not right now. It’s too much. You’re too much. It’s all I want. And then what? You’re the best thing in my life and I couldn’t stand not having that. What would I do then? So you can’t touch me. Not right now. It’s too much.” The frown cleared from Horatio’s face; understanding seemed to dawn. “Oh, you get it now do you? Took you long enough. Have you really been clueless all this time? How could you not know? Or have you just been stringing me along? Did you like it? Knowing I’ve become so fucking dependent on you I’d rather live like this, looking and never touching, rather than risk losing you?”
Horatio physically recoiled at the accusation, stepping back until the wall prevented him from going further. Archie knew it was unfair trying to turn his own self-loathing onto Horatio, but the words had been said now and he couldn’t take them back. Nor could he take back the look on Horatio’s face, though he wished he could.
“Is that really what you think of me, Archie? You think I would do that? Do you really think that’s why I’m here?” Archie shook his head and buried his face in his hands. He knew perfectly well that Horatio would never do such a thing and he couldn’t believe he’d said it. He couldn’t even look at him. They had begun to be happy again and he had gone and ruined everything. The knowledge that Jack had won gnawed at him. He should have known that being dead would have done nothing to stop him.
The tears that had been threatening since he entered the kitchen could no longer be held back and soon he was crying so hard he almost didn’t notice when Horatio put his arms around him. Almost. He tried to pull away but Horatio held on and Archie didn’t really want to put up much of a fight. He didn’t know how long they stood there, Horatio’s arms wrapped tightly around Archie’s shaking shoulders, but when he pulled away the kitchen was dark and the window showed a sky burning orange and pink as the sun went down. A few tremors still shuddered his body but the worst seemed to be over. He hadn’t cried like that since he was a kid. He felt very, very embarrassed and wondered if he’d ever be able to look at Horatio again.
“Feel better?” Horatio said.
“A little,” Archie said, keeping his eyes on the large wet mark on the front of Horatio’s t-shirt.
“Good,” Horatio said. “I did the right thing then?” He sounded worried.
“What?”
“I know I hugged you after you expressly told me not to, but I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t exactly leave you there like that could I? I’m not a very tactile person but I know you are, so I thought it would be the best thing to do. I didn’t make things worse did I?” He sounded so anxious that Archie burst out laughing. Horatio, so good in a crisis, even an emotional crisis it seemed, was apparently at a loss now the crisis was over.
“You did the right thing, Horatio. Thank you.” He finally got the nerve to look up at Horatio and was surprised to find his eyes were blood-shot and red-rimmed. Without thinking, Archie brushed away the dampness under his eyes, frowning.
“Do you think it doesn’t hurt me to see you like this? You don’t think very much of me, do you?” Horatio said. Archie started at this. How could he say that? He thought the world of Horatio. Before he could collect his thoughts enough to respond, Horatio spoke again. “You should get some sleep, Archie. Get into bed and I’ll make some tea.” That commanding tone was back in his voice and it was easier to acquiesce than to argue. Archie went to bed and, despite thinking he couldn’t possibly sleep with his mind churning the way it was, was asleep before Horatio could even bring him his tea.