Fic: "No Mind for Business" Scarlet Pimpernel (1999); Percy/Chauvelin (Valentin Gautier)
Hey snowgrouse remember about a month ago I was taking fic requests and you asked for "Scarlet Pimpernel/Chauvelin (YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO)."
So....hey! I finally wrote it! Although it is not really all that slashy, probably a bit anachronistic, messed with their ages as not to make it too weird, and um...considering how long it took, probably all together not that good. I don't think I handled Percy well at all. So I guess I just hope you don't entirely hate it. It was quite hard for me to write, seeing as it's a pairing I don't entirely believe in and dug my own hole by setting it instead of the time period I'm well familiar with and setting it like 20 years before.
Now that I'm done apologizing for it, here finally is the fic itself!
Title: No Mind for Business
Fandom: Scarlet Pimpernel (1999)
Pairing: Percy/Chauvelin (Valentin Gautier)
Rating: PG (boykisses)
Word Count: 2773
Summary: At a French nobleman's party, a young Percy Blakeney is bored. But then he meets a mysterious young man he hopes to befriend.
Boissy 1774
Percy Blakeney, 17 years of age, wasn't all that fond of parties. At least, not the ones where his father was quite obviously trying to marry him off to some snobbish nobleman's daughter. He had no longer limited himself to the English aristocrats, but the French ones as well! Truth be told, Percy quite preferred the French girls, but unfortunately they did not seem all that interested in him. Where in England, the young ladies were at worst aloof, these French fillies were downright haughty.
Seeing his father wandering his way with another powdered mother on his arm, with a powdered daughter at her side, Percy took his glass of wine and ducked outside into the cool breeze that was signaling the end of Summer. The moon was mostly full, illuminating the vast estate and grounds in a pale blue glow. He wandered off from the finely cut lawn towards the stables.
There was a figure sitting on a fence, a young man, probably three or four years older than Percy, with one leg stretched out on the top rail, the other leg dangling down, tapping idling against the lower rail. As Percy approached and the young man's cigarette briefly illuminated his features, Percy recognized him as someone from the party he only glimpsed earlier.
The young man made no acknowledgment of his presence when Percy leaned on the fence and sighed. "I agree, deuced boring, what? Duller than a wooden spoon."
No response. His companion merely narrowed his eyes in a way that could have meant anything from contemplation to confusion to distaste. Percy decided to interpret it as a sort of confused contemplation and ignored the distaste completely. "Vous ne se produise pas de connaître toute l'anglais?"
He blew out a cloud of smoke into the night air, he then looked squarely at Percy and said, "Better than you know French," in English.
Percy laughed. The young man rolled his eyes and took another long drag of his cigarette.
"Ah! But we haven't been introduced! Terribly inconsiderate of me. And since we have no on around to do so, I'll take it upon myself. I'm sure we'll survive the scandal. Percival Blakeney meet..." He gestured for the young man to give his name.
For a moment Percy didn't think he was going to play along, but he finally offered, "Valentin Gautier."
"Percival Blakeney meet Valentin Gautier; Valentin Gautier, Percival Blakeney." Percy grinned at his own perceived cleverness.
Valentin was clearly not as amused. Percy took a moment to study him the best he could in the moonlight. His mannerisms and dress were unlike those of the other French aristocrats Percy had met. "I must admit, when I first saw you out here, I thought you were a lazy stable hand until I realised I had seen you in the house earlier." Here, Percy paused hoping Valentin would grasp the opportunity for explanation. To Percy's frustration, he did not. Direct it was going to have to be then. "Your family isn't of the aristocracy, is it?"
Valentin blew out one last cloud of smoke and tossed the diminished cigarette onto the grass. "No."
Understanding struck Percy quite suddenly. "Ah, you or at least your father is ah...what's that terribly French word?"
"Bourgeoisie," Valentin provided.
"Admirable."
"Is it? The other guests' contempt is only disguised with purposeful thinness."
"Yet the viscount invited your father and you."
"His attempt at being radical and controversial." He fell back into a broody silence, the sort of situation Percy found extremely uncomfortable, but not as uncomfortable as the crowded rooms. He thought back to finely dressed lords and ladies and tried to see them from Valentin's perspective, and realized the derision wasn't aimed solely at the business man and his son, but also at each other. Painted faces, powdered wigs, and bright costumes; all the trappings of actors and they all played their parts to society's script.
Percy also considered that apart from his dress, Valentin's attitude was a bit off. A rich man's son ought to have heirs, relishing the opportunity to mingle with available young women with substantial dowries. Gautier's son should have been trying to make himself accepted by the nobility, that's what was expected. Of course the same was expected of an English lordling. It made Percy laugh.
The sudden noise nearly startled Valentin off his perch. He steadied himself and glared at Percy causing him to laugh more.
Movement from the terrace caught Percy's eye. A servant stood just outside the open doors and peered out into the night in a searching manner. He stopped, then started towards the two young men.
Percy tapped Valentin's outstretched leg. "Come on, I think the prodigals have been sent for."
"You, perhaps. I doubt my father even noticed."
The servant bowed and informed the younger Blakeney that his father was requesting his presence. Percy finished his wine in one quick swallow, raised the empty glass to his new acquaintance and said, "Good stuff, this," as his farewell.
Back inside he found his father speaking to a man whose dress sense was valiantly aspiring to fit in with the rest of the finery around it. "Ah, Percy!" His father beckoned him over. "I was telling Mssr Gautier here how much I was enjoying the viscount's wine when, sink me, he says it's come from his own vineyard, and he has invited us to visit them. I understand he has a son not far from your own age."
Percy did not share his father's enthusiasm for wine, at least not for the process of making it. All he cared about was the end result and how well it tasted. He wandered off when Mssr. Gautier's carriage stopped and he and his father inspected rows of grapes. Gautier practiced his broken English and Lord Blakeney practiced his irreparable French. Percy draped his arms over and rested his chin on a fence rail, the very picture of bored youth.
So lost in his mindless staring and thoughts on just how bored he was, he did not hear the approach of hooves until they were nearly next to him. He jumped back and looked up at a brown stallion. His rider: Gautier's son. In the full light of day Percy took a moment to recognize the young man he had met the previous night. What was obscured by shadow and pale light could now be seen in full detail. His brown curly hair was tied back in a long fashionable ponytail. His high cheekbones and slightly slanted eyes gave him an exotic look, even for a Frenchman.
Percy suddenly found himself self-conscious of being maybe too tall, too thin and all together gawky.
"Father said we were having company. Didn't know it was you." He didn't seem either pleased nor disappointed at the discovery, more curious."Do you ride?"
Percy nodded.
"Do you enjoy it?"
Percy was grinning now. "Very much."
Valentin reached down and offered Percy his hand. "Then let's see if we can find you something you can handle."
Percy grasped his arm just below the elbow and was pulled up with disconcerting ease into the saddle behind him. Percy steadied his seat by grasping Valentin's waist as he kicked his horse back into full gallop. At that pace it did not take long for them to reach the stables.
Valentin dismounted, turned and looked up at Percy. For an insane moment Percy imagined Valentin was about to help him dismount as if he were a lady. But then he stepped back and gave Percy room to dismount on his own.
The Gautier stables were well-attended. A stable boy ran up and greeted his master at the door. They exchanged words too fast for Percy to understand, but then they stopped and both looked at him expectantly.
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch all that."
"What would you like to ride?"
"Whatever you think I can handle."
Valentin said two words to the boy, "Bottereaux. Aller." The boy disappeared among the stalls.
The day was hot and Valentin had been out riding only in shirtsleeves without coat nor waistcoat. Percy was dressed for the country if not in customary riding clothes, but he did recognise that the heat of the late summer day and the exercise could be quite intolerable. So he divested himself of his coat, but deep-seated English modesty prevented him to strip any further.
The stable boy came back out leading a grey mare. Percy mounted the mare, and it was obvious right away that he had been given the most docile of their horses. He glared at Valentin who smirked back. An intentional jab, but not a mean-spirited one, so Percy rolled his eyes and sighed before smiling back. That his broody friend from the previous night had a playful side was unexpected. Percy decided he could be a good sport and instead of insisting on another horse rode out on this Bottereaux with pride.
Outside, Valentin remounted his own horse and started off. Percy followed. They rode, Percy never able to keep pace, for almost an hour through open fields and green hills before Valentin finally stopped and waited for him to catch up. "We're still not on your father's lands," Percy asked, a little breathless from the exertion and disbelief.
Valentin laughed, a deep, rich sound that had Percy smiling again. He was so altered from the night before, clearly happier and at ease at home as opposed to the guarded melancholy he displayed in mixed company. "I like to visit the village when the day is clear."
"Then why not just take the road?"
"This way is more interesting, a little more...covert?" The question coming from an uncertainty of proper word use.
Percy nodded. If their fathers had finally noticed their absence, they could have been too easily found and brought back.
Valentin started his horse forward again. "Not far now," he said, leading Percy through a patch of trees. They emerged at the top of a hill. Looking down, Percy could see the village nestled in its base. The slope wasn't steep, but they took the horses carefully. All grey bricks and thatched roofs, it was the very image of a rural village. It was only big enough to act as a way station for travellers, mostly businesses with the owners' dwellings attached.
Valentin dismounted and tied his horse outside the tavern. Percy followed him inside. It was smaller and not as clean as the sort of places he was accustomed to. If his father knew he was patronising such an establishment, he might have do himself an injury. It was the resting place for men of trade or the wanderers of the world. He marvelled that even a Bourgeois' son would be attracted to such low accommodations.
But accustomed he clearly was, for the robust, bosomy woman behind the bar greeted him with irrepressible enthusiasm. She even leaned over the counter for a kiss which Valentin obliged her. They started talking animatedly and using too much local dialect that Percy found himself uncomfortably lost and frankly ignored. That was until the woman said something he could understand.
"Qui est votre ami?" Her friendliness gone as she eyed Percy with suspicion.
"Personne."
Being called "no one" incensed Percy more than being being ignored all together. In the time it took him to compile the appropriate protest in French so that the barmaid could understand as well, Valentin had ordered drinks and was motioning him to a table in the corner. Aside from the woman, they were the only occupants, the hour being between the busier times of midday and sundown.
"Stop pouting and drink," Valentin instructed.
"She doesn't like me."
"No."
"She doesn't even know me."
"You're obviously English."
"That obvious?"
"Drink," he said, with a smirk.
Percy frowned down into the mug placed before him. He didn't have much experience with the beer and ales of his own country. This French stuff looked even less appetizing, but Valentin was drinking it with no problem, and eager to prove he can be not quite so obviously English, he took a long gulp.
To his infinite dismay he had to swallow down something that tasted not unlike horse piss. He choked trying to curb his gag reflection and ended up coughing and gasping. His face turned red, much to Valentin's amusement.
But Percy was competitive and determined, and decided to match Valentin drink for drink. Valentin, a little older and more sensible, wasn't in the mood for a drinking contest in the middle of the day especially when there were two horses outside needing sober riders.
By the time they left they had managed a pleasant muzziness. They gathered their horse's reins and walked them back up the hill. In their current state even that was a less than easy task. So once back in an open field they let the horses graze and they took shelter from the now setting sun under the nearest tree, sitting against the trunk.
Valentin tipped his head back and closed his eyes, but Percy took the moment to gaze out at the grassy hills and watched a group of dots that was a flock of birds flying across the horizon. "You must love living here. Everything is so serene."
Valentine scoffed. "I believe 'serene' is another word for 'boring,' yes?"
"And here you'll have to suffer it for years running the family business."
"Don't want it."
"No?"
"I don't have a mind for business, at least not for growing and wine. My father says I have a scheming mind."
"And where would your 'scheming' mind find better employ?"
"Paris. I rather be around people and buildings, a place where change can come quickly. Where a man can both find and lose himself if he wishes it."
Percy was surprised at such candidness from someone who as yet said very little about himself. He was only mildly surprised to find that he understood and sympathised with Valentin's wishes. "Sounds terribly exciting. I do fancy an adventure or two before I'm fully embedded in society."
Suddenly there was Valentin over him, arms and legs on either side of him where he was still sitting against the tree, legs outstretched. Percy was trapped. Then to Percy's astonishment he was being kissed. He wasn't so much scandalised by being kissed by another boy, he had admitted to himself already that he had been attracted to Valentin since the night they met. That the attraction was requited, there had been no prior indication.
Expected or not, Percy was not going to ruin the moment and miss the opportunity with his confusion, and enthusiastically returned the kiss.
Valentin pulled away, though Percy was reluctant let him go. A bit breathless, he looked up at Valentin, crouched over him, eyes slitted and mouth quirked in a smug smirk. This was the real Valentin Gautier, not the broody loner, not the roguish horseman. "Scheming," Valentin had said of himself, and Percy realised what that also meant: Manipulative, dangerous. He was someone who knew how to lure and then would take what he wanted with or without permission.
Percy would not be a pawn in one of his "schemes" no matter what pleasures could be gained at this juncture. He did not know what Valentin's intentions were for him, but he could see himself now, how he must have appeared the last couple days: A bored, rich, English kid, eager to prove himself to someone older and rebellious. He had been acting as someone easily taken advantage of.
He gathered his wits about him, now that he wasn't blinded by the charm and the desire for company. He may not have been a schemer, but he was clever and preferred games to be in his control. Valentin moved forward again, but Percy stopped him with a hand to his chest. He smiled. "It's getting dark, and we're off the main road. I'm sure even our fathers might be getting worried."
With another persistent though not forceful shove Valentin rolled away with a frustrated frown. Percy stood up and brushed himself off. Valentin stood as well and reached to grab Percy's arm, but Percy stepped forward nonchalantly as if he didn't see the motion, in fact he decided to act like none of it happened at all.
Valentin whistled, summoning the horses back to them. As they mounted, Percy briefly glimpsed Valentin's expression. He was clearly quite annoyed. Percy looked away and smiled to himself. He found annoying the devious Frenchman much more fun and satisfying than trying to make friends with him.
So....hey! I finally wrote it! Although it is not really all that slashy, probably a bit anachronistic, messed with their ages as not to make it too weird, and um...considering how long it took, probably all together not that good. I don't think I handled Percy well at all. So I guess I just hope you don't entirely hate it. It was quite hard for me to write, seeing as it's a pairing I don't entirely believe in and dug my own hole by setting it instead of the time period I'm well familiar with and setting it like 20 years before.
Now that I'm done apologizing for it, here finally is the fic itself!
Title: No Mind for Business
Fandom: Scarlet Pimpernel (1999)
Pairing: Percy/Chauvelin (Valentin Gautier)
Rating: PG (boykisses)
Word Count: 2773
Summary: At a French nobleman's party, a young Percy Blakeney is bored. But then he meets a mysterious young man he hopes to befriend.
Boissy 1774
Percy Blakeney, 17 years of age, wasn't all that fond of parties. At least, not the ones where his father was quite obviously trying to marry him off to some snobbish nobleman's daughter. He had no longer limited himself to the English aristocrats, but the French ones as well! Truth be told, Percy quite preferred the French girls, but unfortunately they did not seem all that interested in him. Where in England, the young ladies were at worst aloof, these French fillies were downright haughty.
Seeing his father wandering his way with another powdered mother on his arm, with a powdered daughter at her side, Percy took his glass of wine and ducked outside into the cool breeze that was signaling the end of Summer. The moon was mostly full, illuminating the vast estate and grounds in a pale blue glow. He wandered off from the finely cut lawn towards the stables.
There was a figure sitting on a fence, a young man, probably three or four years older than Percy, with one leg stretched out on the top rail, the other leg dangling down, tapping idling against the lower rail. As Percy approached and the young man's cigarette briefly illuminated his features, Percy recognized him as someone from the party he only glimpsed earlier.
The young man made no acknowledgment of his presence when Percy leaned on the fence and sighed. "I agree, deuced boring, what? Duller than a wooden spoon."
No response. His companion merely narrowed his eyes in a way that could have meant anything from contemplation to confusion to distaste. Percy decided to interpret it as a sort of confused contemplation and ignored the distaste completely. "Vous ne se produise pas de connaître toute l'anglais?"
He blew out a cloud of smoke into the night air, he then looked squarely at Percy and said, "Better than you know French," in English.
Percy laughed. The young man rolled his eyes and took another long drag of his cigarette.
"Ah! But we haven't been introduced! Terribly inconsiderate of me. And since we have no on around to do so, I'll take it upon myself. I'm sure we'll survive the scandal. Percival Blakeney meet..." He gestured for the young man to give his name.
For a moment Percy didn't think he was going to play along, but he finally offered, "Valentin Gautier."
"Percival Blakeney meet Valentin Gautier; Valentin Gautier, Percival Blakeney." Percy grinned at his own perceived cleverness.
Valentin was clearly not as amused. Percy took a moment to study him the best he could in the moonlight. His mannerisms and dress were unlike those of the other French aristocrats Percy had met. "I must admit, when I first saw you out here, I thought you were a lazy stable hand until I realised I had seen you in the house earlier." Here, Percy paused hoping Valentin would grasp the opportunity for explanation. To Percy's frustration, he did not. Direct it was going to have to be then. "Your family isn't of the aristocracy, is it?"
Valentin blew out one last cloud of smoke and tossed the diminished cigarette onto the grass. "No."
Understanding struck Percy quite suddenly. "Ah, you or at least your father is ah...what's that terribly French word?"
"Bourgeoisie," Valentin provided.
"Admirable."
"Is it? The other guests' contempt is only disguised with purposeful thinness."
"Yet the viscount invited your father and you."
"His attempt at being radical and controversial." He fell back into a broody silence, the sort of situation Percy found extremely uncomfortable, but not as uncomfortable as the crowded rooms. He thought back to finely dressed lords and ladies and tried to see them from Valentin's perspective, and realized the derision wasn't aimed solely at the business man and his son, but also at each other. Painted faces, powdered wigs, and bright costumes; all the trappings of actors and they all played their parts to society's script.
Percy also considered that apart from his dress, Valentin's attitude was a bit off. A rich man's son ought to have heirs, relishing the opportunity to mingle with available young women with substantial dowries. Gautier's son should have been trying to make himself accepted by the nobility, that's what was expected. Of course the same was expected of an English lordling. It made Percy laugh.
The sudden noise nearly startled Valentin off his perch. He steadied himself and glared at Percy causing him to laugh more.
Movement from the terrace caught Percy's eye. A servant stood just outside the open doors and peered out into the night in a searching manner. He stopped, then started towards the two young men.
Percy tapped Valentin's outstretched leg. "Come on, I think the prodigals have been sent for."
"You, perhaps. I doubt my father even noticed."
The servant bowed and informed the younger Blakeney that his father was requesting his presence. Percy finished his wine in one quick swallow, raised the empty glass to his new acquaintance and said, "Good stuff, this," as his farewell.
Back inside he found his father speaking to a man whose dress sense was valiantly aspiring to fit in with the rest of the finery around it. "Ah, Percy!" His father beckoned him over. "I was telling Mssr Gautier here how much I was enjoying the viscount's wine when, sink me, he says it's come from his own vineyard, and he has invited us to visit them. I understand he has a son not far from your own age."
Percy did not share his father's enthusiasm for wine, at least not for the process of making it. All he cared about was the end result and how well it tasted. He wandered off when Mssr. Gautier's carriage stopped and he and his father inspected rows of grapes. Gautier practiced his broken English and Lord Blakeney practiced his irreparable French. Percy draped his arms over and rested his chin on a fence rail, the very picture of bored youth.
So lost in his mindless staring and thoughts on just how bored he was, he did not hear the approach of hooves until they were nearly next to him. He jumped back and looked up at a brown stallion. His rider: Gautier's son. In the full light of day Percy took a moment to recognize the young man he had met the previous night. What was obscured by shadow and pale light could now be seen in full detail. His brown curly hair was tied back in a long fashionable ponytail. His high cheekbones and slightly slanted eyes gave him an exotic look, even for a Frenchman.
Percy suddenly found himself self-conscious of being maybe too tall, too thin and all together gawky.
"Father said we were having company. Didn't know it was you." He didn't seem either pleased nor disappointed at the discovery, more curious."Do you ride?"
Percy nodded.
"Do you enjoy it?"
Percy was grinning now. "Very much."
Valentin reached down and offered Percy his hand. "Then let's see if we can find you something you can handle."
Percy grasped his arm just below the elbow and was pulled up with disconcerting ease into the saddle behind him. Percy steadied his seat by grasping Valentin's waist as he kicked his horse back into full gallop. At that pace it did not take long for them to reach the stables.
Valentin dismounted, turned and looked up at Percy. For an insane moment Percy imagined Valentin was about to help him dismount as if he were a lady. But then he stepped back and gave Percy room to dismount on his own.
The Gautier stables were well-attended. A stable boy ran up and greeted his master at the door. They exchanged words too fast for Percy to understand, but then they stopped and both looked at him expectantly.
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch all that."
"What would you like to ride?"
"Whatever you think I can handle."
Valentin said two words to the boy, "Bottereaux. Aller." The boy disappeared among the stalls.
The day was hot and Valentin had been out riding only in shirtsleeves without coat nor waistcoat. Percy was dressed for the country if not in customary riding clothes, but he did recognise that the heat of the late summer day and the exercise could be quite intolerable. So he divested himself of his coat, but deep-seated English modesty prevented him to strip any further.
The stable boy came back out leading a grey mare. Percy mounted the mare, and it was obvious right away that he had been given the most docile of their horses. He glared at Valentin who smirked back. An intentional jab, but not a mean-spirited one, so Percy rolled his eyes and sighed before smiling back. That his broody friend from the previous night had a playful side was unexpected. Percy decided he could be a good sport and instead of insisting on another horse rode out on this Bottereaux with pride.
Outside, Valentin remounted his own horse and started off. Percy followed. They rode, Percy never able to keep pace, for almost an hour through open fields and green hills before Valentin finally stopped and waited for him to catch up. "We're still not on your father's lands," Percy asked, a little breathless from the exertion and disbelief.
Valentin laughed, a deep, rich sound that had Percy smiling again. He was so altered from the night before, clearly happier and at ease at home as opposed to the guarded melancholy he displayed in mixed company. "I like to visit the village when the day is clear."
"Then why not just take the road?"
"This way is more interesting, a little more...covert?" The question coming from an uncertainty of proper word use.
Percy nodded. If their fathers had finally noticed their absence, they could have been too easily found and brought back.
Valentin started his horse forward again. "Not far now," he said, leading Percy through a patch of trees. They emerged at the top of a hill. Looking down, Percy could see the village nestled in its base. The slope wasn't steep, but they took the horses carefully. All grey bricks and thatched roofs, it was the very image of a rural village. It was only big enough to act as a way station for travellers, mostly businesses with the owners' dwellings attached.
Valentin dismounted and tied his horse outside the tavern. Percy followed him inside. It was smaller and not as clean as the sort of places he was accustomed to. If his father knew he was patronising such an establishment, he might have do himself an injury. It was the resting place for men of trade or the wanderers of the world. He marvelled that even a Bourgeois' son would be attracted to such low accommodations.
But accustomed he clearly was, for the robust, bosomy woman behind the bar greeted him with irrepressible enthusiasm. She even leaned over the counter for a kiss which Valentin obliged her. They started talking animatedly and using too much local dialect that Percy found himself uncomfortably lost and frankly ignored. That was until the woman said something he could understand.
"Qui est votre ami?" Her friendliness gone as she eyed Percy with suspicion.
"Personne."
Being called "no one" incensed Percy more than being being ignored all together. In the time it took him to compile the appropriate protest in French so that the barmaid could understand as well, Valentin had ordered drinks and was motioning him to a table in the corner. Aside from the woman, they were the only occupants, the hour being between the busier times of midday and sundown.
"Stop pouting and drink," Valentin instructed.
"She doesn't like me."
"No."
"She doesn't even know me."
"You're obviously English."
"That obvious?"
"Drink," he said, with a smirk.
Percy frowned down into the mug placed before him. He didn't have much experience with the beer and ales of his own country. This French stuff looked even less appetizing, but Valentin was drinking it with no problem, and eager to prove he can be not quite so obviously English, he took a long gulp.
To his infinite dismay he had to swallow down something that tasted not unlike horse piss. He choked trying to curb his gag reflection and ended up coughing and gasping. His face turned red, much to Valentin's amusement.
But Percy was competitive and determined, and decided to match Valentin drink for drink. Valentin, a little older and more sensible, wasn't in the mood for a drinking contest in the middle of the day especially when there were two horses outside needing sober riders.
By the time they left they had managed a pleasant muzziness. They gathered their horse's reins and walked them back up the hill. In their current state even that was a less than easy task. So once back in an open field they let the horses graze and they took shelter from the now setting sun under the nearest tree, sitting against the trunk.
Valentin tipped his head back and closed his eyes, but Percy took the moment to gaze out at the grassy hills and watched a group of dots that was a flock of birds flying across the horizon. "You must love living here. Everything is so serene."
Valentine scoffed. "I believe 'serene' is another word for 'boring,' yes?"
"And here you'll have to suffer it for years running the family business."
"Don't want it."
"No?"
"I don't have a mind for business, at least not for growing and wine. My father says I have a scheming mind."
"And where would your 'scheming' mind find better employ?"
"Paris. I rather be around people and buildings, a place where change can come quickly. Where a man can both find and lose himself if he wishes it."
Percy was surprised at such candidness from someone who as yet said very little about himself. He was only mildly surprised to find that he understood and sympathised with Valentin's wishes. "Sounds terribly exciting. I do fancy an adventure or two before I'm fully embedded in society."
Suddenly there was Valentin over him, arms and legs on either side of him where he was still sitting against the tree, legs outstretched. Percy was trapped. Then to Percy's astonishment he was being kissed. He wasn't so much scandalised by being kissed by another boy, he had admitted to himself already that he had been attracted to Valentin since the night they met. That the attraction was requited, there had been no prior indication.
Expected or not, Percy was not going to ruin the moment and miss the opportunity with his confusion, and enthusiastically returned the kiss.
Valentin pulled away, though Percy was reluctant let him go. A bit breathless, he looked up at Valentin, crouched over him, eyes slitted and mouth quirked in a smug smirk. This was the real Valentin Gautier, not the broody loner, not the roguish horseman. "Scheming," Valentin had said of himself, and Percy realised what that also meant: Manipulative, dangerous. He was someone who knew how to lure and then would take what he wanted with or without permission.
Percy would not be a pawn in one of his "schemes" no matter what pleasures could be gained at this juncture. He did not know what Valentin's intentions were for him, but he could see himself now, how he must have appeared the last couple days: A bored, rich, English kid, eager to prove himself to someone older and rebellious. He had been acting as someone easily taken advantage of.
He gathered his wits about him, now that he wasn't blinded by the charm and the desire for company. He may not have been a schemer, but he was clever and preferred games to be in his control. Valentin moved forward again, but Percy stopped him with a hand to his chest. He smiled. "It's getting dark, and we're off the main road. I'm sure even our fathers might be getting worried."
With another persistent though not forceful shove Valentin rolled away with a frustrated frown. Percy stood up and brushed himself off. Valentin stood as well and reached to grab Percy's arm, but Percy stepped forward nonchalantly as if he didn't see the motion, in fact he decided to act like none of it happened at all.
Valentin whistled, summoning the horses back to them. As they mounted, Percy briefly glimpsed Valentin's expression. He was clearly quite annoyed. Percy looked away and smiled to himself. He found annoying the devious Frenchman much more fun and satisfying than trying to make friends with him.