chocolate with malt and chopped nuts
Story: Timeless { backstory | index }
Title: Polite
Rating: G
Challenge: Chocolate #24: peace
Toppings/Extras: malt, chopped nuts
Wordcount: 791
Summary: Edward Ashdown and Isaac Prowse discuss treasure, names and service.
Notes: Requested in the Mistletoe Match-ups Christmas game… this is actually one of the first pairings I thought of when I saw this comm but somehow I never got around to writing it! I’d say Ashdown is twenty here. Aw, Ashdown is less of a jerk in this AU.
The light from an expensive lantern, Isaac Prowse had to admit, was probably worth however much extra money it had cost. Up to the age of twenty-four he hadn’t known that light like it existed: amber, soft, complacent light. Treacle-like, it seemed to pour slowly across the room, tinting everything a warmer colour.
Three years subsequent to his employment and he had gone from a rowdy man of the streets to Edward Ashdown’s personal aide and bodyguard; and everything had changed.
Everything.
Through the syrupy light, Isaac watched his employer hard at work at his desk-as he always was at all hours of the night. Isaac always thought it best not to interrupt, although the hour was approaching ridiculous for someone who had to be at Dowgate Wharf early in the morning.
At the moment these thoughts flashed through his mind, the shorter man behind the desk suddenly furrowed his brow and then sprang to his feet distractedly.
“Do you think there is Aztec gold left in the New World?” he asked.
Isaac Prowse was scarcely educated in geography that did not encompass central and northern London and had no knowledge at all about the amount of gold not yet plundered from the Americas. Besides which-how was anyone to know the answer to a question like that?
He responded as accurately as he could: with a wild shrug.
“I’ve heard it’s ever so lovely,” Ashdown said, sauntering off towards the door that split from his private office to his bedchamber, picking up that light-giving lantern on the way. He paused in the doorway. “Of course, the pirates got their grubby mitts on most of it first. A shame.”
“Yes,” Isaac responded, watching his employer turn to face him.
“Are you coming in?” he asked, inspecting him with an almost critical gleam to his eye. Isaac sighed.
“I’m sure people suspect,” he replied with a healthy dose of deserved sheepishness.
Edward Ashdown looked at him for a moment. Then, lantern still in one hand, golden light bouncing around the room with his movement, he strode towards him and leaned up to press a small kiss against his lips.
“Let them,” he replied simply once this was done.
Isaac only wished he was as blithely unfazed as the younger man stood in front of him. His blue gaze was earnest but there was a smirk tugging at his lips. Isaac’s own, darker eyes averted.
“It’s just…” Isaac began, and then trailed off because he had never had anything to finish that sentence with. He never would, either. There was nothing more to be said.
“Mr Prowse,” Ashdown said-tartly but with a playful undertone. “This is most irregular.” He made his way back towards his bedroom with an arrogant tilt to his head and took the light with him. Isaac trailed after him.
“Don’t call me that when we’re not working,” he said a little crossly.
“Why not?” Ashdown asked, all innocence. He turned his back to him, fingering his well-to-do cravat. “It’s polite.”
“Polite!”
Though his tone was indignant, Isaac strode up behind his lover and wrapped his arms around him, chin resting in the shallow dip between Ashdown’s shoulder and neck. Ashdown smiled somewhat, gaze fixed on the window which displayed to him an empty London street, almost wholly dark. The lantern he had set down on a nearby vanity table made it harder to see through the glass but it was possible.
“I do like your surname,” he murmured. “Mr Prowse. It sounds simply… it sounds like you.”
Isaac’s response was a muffled hum as he planted a kiss on Ashdown’s neck.
“Isaac. How did you end up with such a mannerly name, anyway?”
Drawing away from him, Isaac sighed. When Ashdown was feeling talkative, there was no point in coddling him with kisses.
“Mam was a vicar’s daughter,” he said with a shrug. “We all got names out of the Bible. Me, Micah… Jude, though heaven only knows why she thought that was a good name to pick.”
“You have brothers?”
“Had brothers,” Isaac corrected him bluntly.
“Yes…” Ashdown turned to face him. “I rather thought that might be the case. You know, Mr Prowse, I’m not entirely sure I know you as well as I should.”
“Does it matter to you?”
“Well, I… of course it does. Why ever would it not?” Ashdown scrutinised the older man’s face and then laughed suddenly; a clear, soaring bird of sound. “Come to bed, Mr Prowse! For all of the night this time.”
“I’m meant to be your bodyguard,” Isaac said dubiously.
“And where better to protect me from?” Ashdown responded adroitly, treating him to his most winning smile.
It was a good argument. Good enough for Isaac Prowse, anyway.
Title: Polite
Rating: G
Challenge: Chocolate #24: peace
Toppings/Extras: malt, chopped nuts
Wordcount: 791
Summary: Edward Ashdown and Isaac Prowse discuss treasure, names and service.
Notes: Requested in the Mistletoe Match-ups Christmas game… this is actually one of the first pairings I thought of when I saw this comm but somehow I never got around to writing it! I’d say Ashdown is twenty here. Aw, Ashdown is less of a jerk in this AU.
The light from an expensive lantern, Isaac Prowse had to admit, was probably worth however much extra money it had cost. Up to the age of twenty-four he hadn’t known that light like it existed: amber, soft, complacent light. Treacle-like, it seemed to pour slowly across the room, tinting everything a warmer colour.
Three years subsequent to his employment and he had gone from a rowdy man of the streets to Edward Ashdown’s personal aide and bodyguard; and everything had changed.
Everything.
Through the syrupy light, Isaac watched his employer hard at work at his desk-as he always was at all hours of the night. Isaac always thought it best not to interrupt, although the hour was approaching ridiculous for someone who had to be at Dowgate Wharf early in the morning.
At the moment these thoughts flashed through his mind, the shorter man behind the desk suddenly furrowed his brow and then sprang to his feet distractedly.
“Do you think there is Aztec gold left in the New World?” he asked.
Isaac Prowse was scarcely educated in geography that did not encompass central and northern London and had no knowledge at all about the amount of gold not yet plundered from the Americas. Besides which-how was anyone to know the answer to a question like that?
He responded as accurately as he could: with a wild shrug.
“I’ve heard it’s ever so lovely,” Ashdown said, sauntering off towards the door that split from his private office to his bedchamber, picking up that light-giving lantern on the way. He paused in the doorway. “Of course, the pirates got their grubby mitts on most of it first. A shame.”
“Yes,” Isaac responded, watching his employer turn to face him.
“Are you coming in?” he asked, inspecting him with an almost critical gleam to his eye. Isaac sighed.
“I’m sure people suspect,” he replied with a healthy dose of deserved sheepishness.
Edward Ashdown looked at him for a moment. Then, lantern still in one hand, golden light bouncing around the room with his movement, he strode towards him and leaned up to press a small kiss against his lips.
“Let them,” he replied simply once this was done.
Isaac only wished he was as blithely unfazed as the younger man stood in front of him. His blue gaze was earnest but there was a smirk tugging at his lips. Isaac’s own, darker eyes averted.
“It’s just…” Isaac began, and then trailed off because he had never had anything to finish that sentence with. He never would, either. There was nothing more to be said.
“Mr Prowse,” Ashdown said-tartly but with a playful undertone. “This is most irregular.” He made his way back towards his bedroom with an arrogant tilt to his head and took the light with him. Isaac trailed after him.
“Don’t call me that when we’re not working,” he said a little crossly.
“Why not?” Ashdown asked, all innocence. He turned his back to him, fingering his well-to-do cravat. “It’s polite.”
“Polite!”
Though his tone was indignant, Isaac strode up behind his lover and wrapped his arms around him, chin resting in the shallow dip between Ashdown’s shoulder and neck. Ashdown smiled somewhat, gaze fixed on the window which displayed to him an empty London street, almost wholly dark. The lantern he had set down on a nearby vanity table made it harder to see through the glass but it was possible.
“I do like your surname,” he murmured. “Mr Prowse. It sounds simply… it sounds like you.”
Isaac’s response was a muffled hum as he planted a kiss on Ashdown’s neck.
“Isaac. How did you end up with such a mannerly name, anyway?”
Drawing away from him, Isaac sighed. When Ashdown was feeling talkative, there was no point in coddling him with kisses.
“Mam was a vicar’s daughter,” he said with a shrug. “We all got names out of the Bible. Me, Micah… Jude, though heaven only knows why she thought that was a good name to pick.”
“You have brothers?”
“Had brothers,” Isaac corrected him bluntly.
“Yes…” Ashdown turned to face him. “I rather thought that might be the case. You know, Mr Prowse, I’m not entirely sure I know you as well as I should.”
“Does it matter to you?”
“Well, I… of course it does. Why ever would it not?” Ashdown scrutinised the older man’s face and then laughed suddenly; a clear, soaring bird of sound. “Come to bed, Mr Prowse! For all of the night this time.”
“I’m meant to be your bodyguard,” Isaac said dubiously.
“And where better to protect me from?” Ashdown responded adroitly, treating him to his most winning smile.
It was a good argument. Good enough for Isaac Prowse, anyway.