All The King's Men -- FINALLY! Part One of Three.

[marnanightingale]

All the King's Men.

Respectfully dedicated to:
Lois McMaster Bujold, Dorothy L. Sayers, and Tom Cochrane.
For knowing about love.

Affectionately dedicated to:

q_skud_, fairestcat.
Without whom. Words fail me, which is as well or the acknowledgements would outstrip the fic.

pewtergryphon, for patience.

ataniell93, for "immoral support".

And for my Wife, who knows why.

Betas: nindulgence and cortese

Set right after The Frogs And The Lobsters. Minutes after, actually.

Set in the All The King's Men universe, which I share with q_skud_

Dramatis personae (in alphabetical order):

Miss Kitty Cobham
Major Lord Alexander Rupert Edrington
Lt. Horatio Hornblower
Acting Lt. Archie Kennedy.
Chorus of Drunken Sailors.

Rating: explicit sexuality. Warnings: nonexplicit references to past abuse and present consequences.

Feedback: YES PLEASE, even if only to say 'I read this."

---

When the last shadow of France was gone from the horizon, Archie shinnied down towards the deck ahead of Horatio, smiling as voices rose to meet him; the men, so subdued as they'd watched France vanish aft, were singing.

Major Edrington was waiting as Archie and Horatio reached the deck. He smiled at their flushed faces, glancing back up to the fighting top and shaking his head in tolerant bemusement.

"Had a proper airing, gentlemen?"

"Indeed, My Lord," said Horatio, eyes shining, and the Major and Kennedy exchanged a quick, relieved glance as Hornblower made his excuses and went to consult with Matthews. As they watched him stride away, Archie said, smiling, "I could show you. Would you like to go up, My Lord? It is no more difficult than mounting a spirited horse, really."

Major Edrington's expression remained bland, though the quirk of an eyebrow acknowledged the hit. "I think -- not today, thank you, Mr Kennedy. A turn about the deck, rather, if you would, and you may explain to me some of the finer points of this floating gymnasium."

The two men fell into a comfortable rhythm, strolling and chatting, until they regained the leeward side of the quarterdeck and paused to watch the activity below. Major Edrington leaned casually on the rail, and said quietly, as Kennedy joined him there, "I underrated you, Mr Kennedy. At the bridge."

Archie blushed, but replied steadily enough, "You rated me quite justly, My Lord. I panicked, I made a bloody fool of myself; Lieutenant Hornblower had to bring me to my senses."

Edrington nodded. "And yet -- most men panic by running away from danger, Mr Kennedy. You are no coward. I confess I was puzzled enough to ask a few discreet questions."

Archie was unable to suppress a flash of angry dismay; he turned away abruptly and stared out over the water.

The Major must have seen, for he continued almost apologetically, "and received some extremely discreet answers, I assure you. Enough only to tell me that your brief trouble was a result of having an unusual amount of strain to bear, not a matter of any lesser strength or lack of nerve. I assure you, I can be discreet as well; I do not mean to tax you with reminders of what you've survived and put behind you. I only wanted to be certain you knew my opinion had altered."

"Thank you, Sir."

Edrington broke the slightly awkward silence by chuckling at the bawdy strains of Drunken Sailor and commenting wryly after a few verses, "I hope there is some less rigid procedure for coping with drunken Acting Lieutenants, Mr Kennedy."

"My Lord?"

"Your wardroom has been good enough to invite me to supper this evening. And I for one plan to drink rather too much. Not alone, for preference."

Kennedy had opened his mouth to reply when he was forestalled by the sound of Oldroyd's voice raised above the others,

"Put a lobster down 'is britches
Put a lobster down 'is britches ..."

I've never heard that one before, Archie thought, grinning, and then, Oh, God, Oldroyd ...

He turned, an apology on his lips, to find the Major regarding him with an oddly intent look. As Archie met his eyes, Edrington glanced down and away, smiling slightly. Well now, My Lord, Archie thought, before they were distracted by a commotion and turned in time to see Oldroyd indignant and dripping wet, Styles and one of Edrington's men both putting aside freshly emptied buckets and roaring with laughter.

When he spoke again, Edrington's tone was almost wistful.

"You look after what is yours -- your men, your -- shipmates. At all costs. They are fortunate in you, I think."

"I keep safe what I may, My Lord," Archie answered. "But I count nothing as mine, unless it is between my hands. The whims of the service, the fortunes of war --" he shrugged.

"Carpe diem, then?" Edrington murmured.

Archie turned and met his eyes squarely. "By the throat, My Lord. "

"Indeed, Mr Kennedy."

* * *

Edrington lay sleepless in his cot, considering. Dinner had been ... most interesting, forced gaiety giving way to almost hysterical good cheer with the aid of a generous quantity of wine, including several bottles he had provided himself. More interesting yet had been constantly catching Kennedy's eyes on him, his expression as demure as a girl barely out of the schoolroom, but -- there had been an invitation there, he thought. Or -- a challenge?

Less ambiguous had been Lieutenant Hornblower's response to his attempts to draw Kennedy into conversation. At the beginning of supper, Hornblower seemed to have relapsed into brooding, pushing his meat around on his plate and addressing himself to his glass with silent, methodical absorption, offering responses courteous enough, but brief. As Kennedy had ceased to hover over him and begun to respond to Edrington's sallies, Hornblower had exerted himself to draw Kennedy's attention back -- oh, subtly enough, a comment here, a shared jest there, all with perfect courtesy, treating Edrington very much as the honoured ... stranger. Kennedy had accepted it with equanimity, sharing out his attention between the two men easily, drawing them into discussion with one another until Hornblower, aided no doubt by the wine, had begun to carry his share of the conversation.

And look daggers at me when he thought I was not attending. Interesting. Very interesting. Were it not for that business with the girl in Muzillac, I would think ... Kennedy almost worships him, that much is clear. But little else is.

Edrington sighed. He'd too much sense to try to come between the two, if Kennedy's obvious devotion should be reciprocated. But if it were, Hornblower was playing a far cooler hand than he'd have thought the man capable of. And if it were not ... then I fail to see any impediment there, really..

He stirred restlessly, hoping his distraction at supper had been attributed to heat and wine, and that the speculation in his own eyes had gone unnoticed -- at least, unnoticed save by the target. As supper had dragged on he'd found himself glancing more often in Kennedy's direction, hard put to maintain his own calm, distracted by wondering how his eyes might look were he to answer their challenge, wanting to see them all invitation. More distracting yet -- damn the man, was he truly so unconscious of what he did, or was he as shameless as he appeared? -- was the way his tongue darted out to catch an errant drop of wine. To catch the tiny smear of sauce that clung to his lip. To catch -- him?

Kennedy had seen him respond, noticed the widening of his eyes, the parted lips; had smiled a little too sweetly, stared back a little too wide-eyed for true innocence, and answered Edrington's comment about some play or other they both chanced to have seen, years ago, without missing a beat.

This was not helping him sleep. Nor was the heaviness in his groin when he considered the promise inherent in Kennedy's air of casual sensuousness. He let his hand drift down his body, shifting his shirt out of the way, stroking himself idly as he gazed unseeing at the beams above his head. He remembered how near he'd come to dropping his fork when the pudding had gone around and Kennedy had pounced on it, blushing and laughing as his shipmates teased him about his sweet tooth and eating his portion with exaggerated glee, throwing back his head, closing his eyes in ecstasy, licking his fork clean and then licking it clean again, grinning at the younger midshipmen as if it were only them he was clowning for.

Not innocent, and Edrington found himself heartily glad of it; he took no pleasure in leaving carnage behind him even in war, and in his own life -- it was dangerous, and left a bitter flavour behind.

Neither innocent, nor weak. Piquant though that air of eager youth was -- how had it survived a Spanish prison? -- there was an edge beneath it. I keep safe what I may. By the throat, My Lord.

Edrington squirmed against the cool sheets, remembering Kennedy's expression of unbridled bliss. Considered ways to make him look like that again, suddenly, vividly pictured him biting his lip and opening his eyes wide and -- he bit his own lip, suddenly, barely containing a moan as he remembered the thinness of canvas walls.

He thought of that flickering tongue again, and brought his hand to his mouth, wetting it thoroughly before returning to stroke over the head of his prick, taking his time about it, wondering if anyone had yet introduced Kennedy to that particular pleasure. Wondering how Kennedy might respond to a warm mouth closing over him, if he would thrash and moan or melt into the bed, quivering and whimpering. Or perhaps draw back in shock and need to be coaxed -- it seemed unlikely, but one never knew. One should never skimp these things, after all -- there was a great deal of territory to explore and map between kisses and -- other, tastier morsels, and careful reconnaissance was no hardship over such attractive terrain. Advance in good order, that was the trick -- never rush -- make sure of every inch before attempting the ultimate objective.

More likely, though, Kennedy would be an eager student, playful and wholehearted. Willing to explore in turn...

He stroked himself more rapidly, thinking of Kennedy's mouth on him, awkward and sweet, blue eyes looking up at him with eyes full of mischief -- and spent, suddenly and hard.

Drifting pleasurably, he tidied himself with his nightshirt, arranged it as best he could so that the sticky wetness was away from his skin, and let himself be pulled under, smiling.

* * *

The breeze felt wonderful. Muzillac had been hot. Hot and dry and dusty, and everything -- everyone -- smelling of iron and acrid sweat. After the Ferrol, he'd scrubbed himself every chance he got, for weeks, every time he'd remembered that reek. He'd drunk too much, last night, washing the taste away, trying to ward off dreams. But not vastly too much; certainly not as much as he could have drunk. Dreams had still come, and once he'd woken with a start, half-expecting to find himself still on that damned bridge with time running away from him and his feet turned to lead weights, but the sound of Horatio's snoring through the thin partition had made the soft darkness friendly again.

Horatio ... they were even, now. Not that Horatio had ever taxed him with it, or treated him like a debtor, but -- a life for a life and all debts paid, the taint of the Ferrol washed away not in seawater, but in gunpowder, that was better. It had been good -- even with his heart still pounding and his ears ringing -- even when it seemed they'd nothing to look forward to but a desperate stand on a godforsaken strip of sand -- to see gratitude, rather than solicitude, in Horatio's eyes. To hear the respect and confidence in Major Edrington's voice. To be the one who blushed and averted his gaze at the warmth lurking beneath Captain Pellew's brisk nod when they had returned to the Indefatigable.

Edrington. That was... interesting. He'd lain awake awhile, after the dream, thinking about dinner. Thinking about Edrington. Thinking about interesting. He was thinking about interesting now, despite the trigonometry open on his lap, thinking about challenging brown eyes plus cool smirk, divided by studiously bland expression over... hmmm. Over long legs, lean hips, and a surprising sweep of muscle over back and shoulder. It all added up to interesting, yes; what else might it add up to?

Back to studying. But the sun was warm, and his mind drifted; somehow, no matter where he started on the page, Edrington seemed to drift lazily into all of his attempts to calculate positions. Rather intriguing positions, really... he closed his eyes to calculate them better.

A shadow fell across his face, startling him awake, and Archie looked up.

Major Edrington was smiling down at him.

"Good morning, My Lord."

"Good morning, Mr Kennedy. I believe you made me an offer yesterday." Edrington was ... undoing the fastenings of his coat.

Archie could only stare, open-mouthed. I am still asleep.

"My Lord?"

Edrington cocked an eyebrow. "To take me, ah, aloft, is it, Mr Kennedy?"

Archie blinked, then smiled, slowly. "I shall be delighted to -- take you, My Lord."

"Excellent." Edrington stripped off the coat and handed it carelessly to a passing ship's boy as they made their way towards the shrouds.

Archie thought he looked a trifle dubious, all the same. "Truly, My Lord, it's simple enough."

"Mr Kennedy, I assure you I am happy to place myself entirely in your hands."

Kennedy swung himself up, Edrington following more slowly. "It does seem quite straightforward, very like a ladder," he said, looking up at the top.

"It is. Put your hands on the shrouds -- sorry, the vertical lines -- and climb. Once we get to the top you can go through the lubbers hole, if you like, or else attempt the futtock shrouds."

Major Edrington gave vent to a sort of strangled cough. "The more naval terminology I encounter, the more persuaded I become that tedium, no women, and a great quantity of rum aboard is a dangerous combination for the agile-minded. Remind me to have you explain, ah, spankers to me, will you?"

Archie laughed, and began to climb.

When they had gained the top -- Edrington had watched Kennedy and then insisted on using the futtock shrouds himself, giving Archie an uneasy moment as he pictured explaining to Captain Pellew how he had come to crack open their guest like a gull's afternoon tea -- and were tired of trying to spot England, Edrington said quietly, "I confess I should like to linger here a while longer; the worst of seagoing life seems to me to be the way you all live atop one another."

"When I was in the midshipman's berth, I spent a great deal of time up here, My Lord. The closest thing to a true refuge, on board ship -- and the only privacy anyone with a particle of sense would trust." He skated a glance at Edrington, only to catch him doing the like, and smiled, slowly.

"Ah."

They chatted aimlessly, Edrington jumping from topic to topic until at last he said, with careful casualness, "I gather from Captain Pellew that the Indefatigable will have at least a week in Portsmouth upon our return, Mr Kennedy. Have you any particular plans for your leave?"

"I confess, I had not thought of it, My Lord. I usually -- " dangle about after Horatio. "No, My Lord. No plans. I shall be quite free."

Major Edrington seemed to consider, then, with a quick sidelong glance offered, "I shall be staying in Portsmouth for some time, I imagine."

"Well. Perhaps we shall run into one another, My Lord."

Edrington turned and met his eyes squarely. "I should prefer not to leave it to chance, Mr Kennedy. If you have no more pressing plans -- I believe I should like to know you better."

Archie smiled. "I believe I should like that very well, My Lord."

* * *

Edrington found himself humming as he stood by the rail, watching the coast of England grow near, overseeing his men's preparations for landing with half an eye -- which was probably more than they needed. Thank God for truly competent underlings, even if sometimes he felt a bit like the regimental standard: elevated, out in front, symbolically vital, and largely decorative. He'd been largely decorative, the first few months after he received his commission. He was still grateful to his first Sergeant, who had a way of 'clarifying' his orders in such a way as to save his face while both catching his errors and giving him a rapid education in actual military tactics. He'd drunk himself stupid to celebrate, the first time he had made it through an entire battle hearing only "Yes, My Lord!" instead.

Today, however, he was perfectly content to leave them to it, although perhaps Aupres De Ma Blonde was neither the best counterpoint to the Sergeant's approach of keeping quiet order through occasional appeals to "the Major's dreadful sore head today" nor the most prudent choice of tune.

Ah, here was Lieutenant Hornblower, bearing down on him with a face like a costive parson. "Captain Pellew's compliments, my Lord, and he believes we shall be in port by sundown. He asks also that you not hesitate to make use of me for any assistance you might require."

Edrington almost sent him on his way, then reconsidered. It would be prudent, if only for Kennedy's sake, to do what he could to defuse this tension between the three of them. Anyway, he was fond of the young Lieutenant.

"In truth, Lieutenant, I would be grateful if you could keep me company here for a short while. I am presently engaged in staying well out of my Sergeant's way, and I confess I am finding the temptation to relieve the monotony by giving a few pointless orders rather difficult to resist."

Ah, that had startled a grin from him. "I am familiar with the urge, My Lord. Have you tried reviewing trigonometry problems?

"Oddly, Lieutenant, that particular solution had not occurred to me. I was, however, considering what to do with my upcoming liberty." Hornblower's face had darkened again. Time to get to the meat of it. "What are your plans, Lieutenant, if I might enquire?"

"You are very good to take an interest, My Lord," Lieutenant Hornblower replied woodenly. "I confess, I had not thought. I had assumed that I would be keeping company with Mr Kennedy, but that seems not to be his preference."

"I see. He assured me that he had no commitments ashore. Had you perhaps neglected to let him know that you desired his company, Lieutenant?"

He had not thought that the Lieutenant could possibly stiffen further, nor become more elaborately formal. Clearly, he had underestimated the man. "My Lord. I simply assumed -- he has always -- "

"It would appear that in the absence of a clear invitation, Mr Kennedy chose not to presume further upon your kindness, Lieutenant."

"Mr Kennedy ought to know by now, I would think, that he could never presume. He is -- my friend, My Lord."

Edrington found himself torn between amusement and pity at the expression on Hornblower's face. Apparently, he had underestimated the man in more ways than one. He clearly cared a great deal about losing Kennedy's companionship ashore -- or did he think he might be about to lose a great deal more? Edrington suppressed a sigh. He would be returning Kennedy to his ship in a few days' time, a week at most, and might well never see him again; for the sake of that brief flash of proud desolation he had seen on Kennedy's face aloft, he would do what he could here. He lowered his voice, and spoke more gently.

"That much is clear to me now, Lieutenant. But -- forgive me if I take a liberty -- were I in your place I should take some pains to make it clear to him. Inescapably clear."

Hornblower looked as stunned as if Edrington had suggested he go find Kennedy and kiss him in the wardroom. And what are you suggesting, Alexander? Well, not the wardroom... "Thank you, My Lord. And -- and thank you."

They chatted inconsequentially, then, amiably debating navigation and tactics, Edrington taking pleasure in eliciting a few more half-smiles from the sober young Lieutenant, until Hornblower said, "I must go, My Lord; we shall be in port soon, and I have duties."

* * *

Archie responded mechanically to His Lordship's -- Edrington's, he corrected himself irritably, remarks, his mind spinning. It had seemed a plain enough arrangement back on the Indy -- one soldier. One sailor. One shore leave. One flat surface, please, and never mind much else so long as the sheets were decently clean.

He'd burst through the door of the inn, having chafed and fretted his way through a long, hot afternoon of delays and small crises, made no easier by finding Horatio, who had been unusually silent all afternoon, regarding him at every turn as if he beheld a stranger, only to find Maj--Edrington -- chatting coolly with a Colonel, barely stopping to greet him before dispatching him to their rooms for a bath. Archie had gone willingly enough, expecting Edrington to follow, and nothing loath to get well and truly clean, but he'd seen nothing of the man until he'd finally abandoned the cooling water and dressed -- even then Edrington had appeared only to hustle him down for supper. Now Kennedy found himself whisked off to see a play -- a wonderful thing in itself, but never in all that had there been the least hint of the sly, flirtatious man he'd thought he'd agreed to spend several days with. Edrington had been -- solicitous, rather than flirtatious. And every inch the gracious My Lord. He was a fine host, there was no denying it. And yet -- perhaps it was the way Alexander had watched over him as he ate, or the way he'd so smoothly procured a dessert that would have handily fed three -- and taken scarcely a mouthful himself. I feel like a nephew being taken for a special treat. Or an especially coy mistress he wants to dazzle. If he has thought better of this, he need only say so.

Kennedy covertly searched the other man's face as they walked, looking for ... for anything, really, except polite and pleasant interest. He found himself going over their conversation on board, searching for clues. Had he imagined it all? Some sailors see mermaids, I understand...

No, Edrington had seemed interested enough then. Nor had he treated him as a child; entirely the reverse. Where had it all gone astray?

Had he changed his mind? Archie sighed, inwardly. Only one way to find out. He moved closer, deliberately, until his arm brushed against Alexander's sleeve with each step. When Edrington started slightly, but did not move away, he dared to punctuate a point he had been developing for some time--about the ways in which Garrick's alterations to the text might well have changed the whole meaning of Gertrude's hasty remarriage-- with a casual hand on the small of his back as he leaned forward and gestured emphatically.

Edrington jumped, but did not pull away; if anything, he leaned into the touch, spine flexing under Archie's hand. Good. He risked a longer look at his face. Unrevealing, as always, but his eyes... burned. Better. Until he flicked them aside, flushing slightly, biting his lip. Why was the man suddenly so damned diffident? Unless ... unless he thought Archie -- Oh, God. I suppose it is very gentlemanly of him. Damn it. What is it going to take to make him see that I know my own mind?.

"I underrated you, Mr Kennedy". Well. People did. It was a habit that needed breaking, and in this case, as soon as possible. As they reached the corner, he swung left.

* * *

As they walked, Edrington looked sidelong at Kennedy, whose sunny mood over supper seemed to have fallen away from him with the light of the inn lamps. When he'd sprung his surprise over their meal, Archie's face had lit like a beacon, just as he had hoped; what, then, had so dampened his mood now? Was he, after all, regretting his decision to exchange the warmth of his shipmate's company for a venture into the unknown? Or was he simply ... no longer inclined, now that he was in Portsmouth with money in his pocket and no shortage of other company, including feminine company, to seek, and casting about for a way to let him know? If so, he resolved, Kennedy should have no reason to feel remorseful on his account. Nothing had been said that could not be explained away, and nothing would be. He cleared his throat, and began to discuss Sheridan with determined enthusiasm. But did Kennedy have to keep touching him? I am not a bloody saint.

Alexander looked up from his thoughts, puzzled. What were they doing at the rear of the theatre? Kennedy was grinning up at him, and he smiled back, tentatively.

"Do you always go to the stage door first?"

"Often enough to make it habit." Kennedy replied. "This is where one comes to gawp hopelessly after the chorus, you see."

"Hopelessly?"

Kennedy shot him a wicked look. "Not always. Follow me. I want to show you a thing. And tell you a thing, as well."

Edrington nodded, bemused, and followed him into a nearby alley. They walked along it, and fetched up at a spot near the end. "What did you want to show me?"

"That brick." The spot seemed no different from any other, but Kennedy's grin had taken on the most intriguing hint of a leer.

"What of it?"

"I wanted to show you the place where I had my first kiss. First to matter, at any rate."

He considered it for a moment, a coltish young man and a giggling young actress, sneaking in here for a romp. It ought to have made him smile indulgently. It was making him rock-hard, and he saw Kennedy register the fact and smile knowingly, the tip of his tongue stealing out to dampen his lower lip as he leaned in to trace the wall with a finger.

Edrington stood straight, fought for control, making one last attempt to conceal -- at least to restrain -- his desire and his leaping hope at the look of gleeful mischief that sparkled in Archie's eyes, tempting him to lean in closer, tempting him to a hundred things. He took a breath, and said "And what was the thing you desired to tell me?"

Improbably, the smile widened, became positively lascivious. "That I mean to have my next one here as well."

As quick as that, Edrington was pinned against that same brick, or its twin. He gasped at the shock of it, at the feel of it, at the solidity and strength in the body that trapped him there, and Archie's tongue slipped into his mouth, silky and demanding at once, exploring ... he gave over and opened his mouth to him, head spinning, fingers scrabbling at rough brick, sliding down until their groins met and he almost thought he might explode like a boy if Kennedy carried on sucking at his tongue and nibbling his lips and drinking him as if he were cool water in the desert. He moved against him, wanting more, careless of their precarious privacy, and Kennedy pulled back, grasped his shoulders and smiled shakily.

"I ..." he licked his lips, and Edrington thought longingly of dragging him deeper into the concealing dusk to begin it all anew -- "Oh my. I didn't intend to let that get, ah, quite so out of hand. But do you think you can stop worrying now?"

"Ah --?" said Edrington, cleverly.

"Alexander." He grinned -- that had gotten his attention. "I am not a boy. I am not an innocent. And I know what I want. Now --" he pulled, gently, until Edrington was standing, no longer sprawled loosely against the wall, and dusted him off, briskly. "Come on, or we shall miss the curtain."

* * *

End of Act One; ices and lemonade available in the lobby. All The King's Men (2/3)

Comments

[trolleypup.livejournal.com]

OK, read it. Well written, given that I am not familiar with the source. Hate getting stuff in little pieces.

[commodorified.livejournal.com]

Talk to the muses. That's how they give it to me. Well, ok, this one goes up over three days because of space and cetera, but in general...

But the new icon might please you better.

:-)

[commodorified.livejournal.com]

No hard feelings if you skip part two, in which, well. Sex. and sex, and also sex and I think possibly they walk back to the Inn w/o actually doing anything overtly sexual. But after that it's straight to the gutter. :-)

And in conclusion? Um. Sex. And Shakespeare.

[pewtergryphon.livejournal.com]

Squee!

Oh, I like the changes you made since I read the draft!

And you're a -tease- for not putting it all up at once! A wicked tease, d'you hear me, grrrl?

[hazelhawthorne.livejournal.com]

There is definitely something wrong with my brain. Why do I keep thinking that it is a good idea to read fics at work? That kiss has me nearly as breathless and boneless as My Lord.

"Good morning, Mr Kennedy. I believe you made me an offer yesterday." Edrington was ... undoing the fastenings of his coat.

Archie could only stare, open-mouthed. I am still asleep.

"My Lord?"

Edrington cocked an eyebrow. "To take me, ah, aloft, is it, Mr Kennedy?"

Archie blinked, then smiled, slowly. "I shall be delighted to -- take you, My Lord."

I love this part. I could see the lovely confusion on Archie's face as his eyes focused on the aristocratic fingers undoing shiny buttons.

You are cruel to post this in bits. I really want to read more Right. Now.

Thank you

[commodorified.livejournal.com]

Slugging away at the final edits for Act Two as we speak...

Glad you're enjoying it!

[fairestcat]

There is definitely something wrong with my brain. Why do I keep thinking that it is a good idea to read fics at work? That kiss has me nearly as breathless and boneless as My Lord.

Heh. Just wait till part 2...

[jo-lasalle.livejournal.com]

Wow, this is gorgeous. I love the look inside Edrington's head, as well as Archie taking charge at the end. I'm very glad the other parts are posted already and I don't have to wait...

[commodorified.livejournal.com]

I'm glad you like it!

[meletor-et-al.livejournal.com]

Beware the superfeedback. It's like a freaking essay, with 300% more squee, and two three parts. Well, two sorts, three parts. Or somesuch.

-------
First, the quotes and their respective instantaneous reactions (this is where you get to play Scavenger Hunt!):
-------

When the last shadow of France was gone from the horizon,
Alright, I'm sorry, but that's just too cool of a starter clause. I waste no time, do I? Ah well.

"Put a lobster down 'is britches
Put a lobster down 'is britches ..."
*SNORT!* No, literally. And damnit I'm drinking tea! .::rubs abused sinuses::.

Archie turned and met his eyes squarely. "By the throat, My Lord. "
Hot damn but you do know Archie, don't you.

and careful reconnaissance was no hardship over such attractive terrain. Advance in good order, that was the trick -- never rush -- make sure of every inch before attempting the ultimate objective.
And this is why I love sex and the military. Reconnaissance… .::falls over::.

despite the trigonometry open on his lap,
Spherical trigonometry! Squee! I mean… erm. Sorry.

challenging brown eyes plus cool smirk, divided by studiously bland expression over... hmmm. Over long legs, lean hips, and a surprising sweep of muscle over back and shoulder. It all added up to interesting, yes; what else might it add up to?
Oh… oh I see. Guh, suggestive mathematics. You're good, you are.

Rather intriguing positions, really... he closed his eyes to calculate them better.
Hee. You do that, Archie.

"I shall be delighted to -- take you, My Lord."
*snerkle* Uh-huh.

"The more naval terminology I encounter, the more persuaded I become that tedium, no women, and a great quantity of rum aboard is a dangerous combination for the agile-minded.
I'm with Edrington on this one. It's also dangerous for the poor exploding fangirls, like myself.

how he had come to crack open their guest like a gull's afternoon tea
I like that analogy. Lots. Mm.

and were tired of trying to spot England
Aww!

"I should prefer not to leave it to chance, Mr Kennedy. If you have no more pressing plans -- I believe I should like to know you better."

Archie smiled. "I believe I should like that very well, My Lord."
*happy fuzzies*

Edrington found himself humming as he stood by the rail, watching the coast of England grow near, overseeing his men's preparations [...] He'd drunk himself stupid to celebrate, the first time he had made it through an entire battle hearing only "Yes, My Lord!" instead.
Paragraph love. Profuse paragraph love. I love this paragraph.

and I confess I am finding the temptation to relieve the monotony by giving a few pointless orders rather difficult to resist."
Pointless orders, yay!

"I am familiar with the urge, My Lord. Have you tried reviewing trigonometry problems?
Trig! Again! Yay! Missing endquote? TRIG! *bounce*

"Oddly, Lieutenant, that particular solution had not occurred to me.
Yes, oddly. Well, we can't all of us be nerds and navy.

They chatted inconsequentially, then, amiably debating navigation and tactics
I love how that's 'amiable conversation' in their professions. Absolutely love it.

He'd burst through the door of the inn, having chafed and fretted his way [...] He cleared his throat, and began to discuss Sheridan with determined enthusiasm.
God, these boys are being such woobies. All… human. Not like Random Sexing Shore-Leave Characters at all. I love it; go you.

"That I mean to have my next one here as well."
BWAH! .::crows::.

"Ah --?" said Edrington, cleverly.
Yes, pure genius, that. Mmhm.

"Alexander." He grinned -- that had gotten his attention.
Hah! Of course I adore you even more for thinking to include that telling little detail.

"Come on, or we shall miss the curtain."
See now that's just mean. Poor lobster.

And those are just for part 1!