Post by Seek on Aug 8, 2009 3:46:20 GMT 10
Title: Someone He Doesn’t Like
Rating: PG-13 for safety, but be warned because Raoul thinks he’s homosexual. And they only kiss. References to sex, so be warned again.
Length: 1677 words
Category: Tortall
Summary: Why Sir Raoul really doesn’t like parties. Or drinking. Based on the quote from Squire where Raoul tells Kel that liquor turns him into someone he doesn’t like.
Peculiar Pairing: Raoul/Alan(na)
Sir Raoul of Goldenlake was decidedly and belligerently drunk, and decided quite spontaneously and instantaneously that he liked it. Belting out bawdy songs (or at least what the young knight thought was bawdy- Alan would soon show him he was quite wrong, with the songs he had picked up from the men of Fort Drell.) was pretty awesome too.
In any case, it made him a mild social embarrassment and gave him a rather convenient excuse to duck all sorts of social events and obligations, including hiding from Lady Roxanne of Elden who was quite determined to get a dance from him. The Code of Chivalry was rather explicit on what he was expected to do.
The wine was good and had mildly mellowed him. Douglass was nowhere to be found, and so Raoul decided that meant he didn’t even need to make a token effort to maintain an appearance.
The gilded finery of parties began to sicken him, after exposure to battle at the River Drell.
He shook his head muzzily to clear such thoughts. He had managed to sneak away with more than a whole bottle. Drink deep, he thought.
Alanna decided, quite grumpily, and for about the millionth time that she absolutely hated social events. It didn’t help that Lady Delia of Eldorne seemed quite determined to pursue her, and had been asking her for small favours and five dances since the beginning of the ball, and Alanna was quite fed up by now.
She would have laughed herself sick at the irony of the female pursuing the male instead- for that was what ‘Alan’ was, even if Alanna was female. But she wasn’t in the mood to laugh, and when Lady Delia was busy coquettishly trying to win some rather unchaste kisses from Jon, she found herself asking Jon, who absent-mindedly told her she was dismissed.
Thus freed of any obligations, she made her way down the corridors, kicking at the flagstones sullenly. Her mood had gotten worse when she saw Jon falling for Delia’s charms, and knew that it would be another day of Jon sulking (she was reluctant to dignify it with any other term) if Delia was playing her games again.
Particularly if Delia didn’t let him take her to his bed.
She saw the slight lump behind the wall-hangings that depicted a map of the fiefs north of Corus, and grinned slightly, her bad mood dissipating rather unexpectedly.
That had to be Raoul. And at the prospect of running into someone else who was at least not particularly enamored with Lady Delia, Alanna cheered up. Slightly.
Raoul wasn’t entirely drunk just yet. He was, at the moment, significantly more than slightly tipsy, and as the hangings parted to reveal the small alcove, he blinked at the light let in from the flickering torches on the castle wall.
“Oh, itsh you, Alan,” He managed, feeling quite oddly proud that he’d managed a seminally coherent sentence, with only the occasional slur. He briefly saluted him with the wine bottle. “Eshcaping Lady Delia?”
The Eldorne girl’s pursuit of Alan had been very well known. What was equally well-known was Alan’s many attempts to evade her.
Alan muttered something under his breath, and Raoul grinned. “Care to share a drink?” He invited. “A drink to escaping Lady Delia…and to evading some of those pesky balls.”
He half-expected Alan to decline. After all, Alan drank the least of them all and was normally sober. However, this time, after a moment’s hesitation, the slight boy nodded. Raoul grinned. He handed the bottle over.
By now, Raoul was in more than just a mellow state of mind. If Alan had stripped on the spot and begun a dance naked with flashing neon lights, he wouldn’t have noticed and he would have found that to be perfectly fine.
He was also in a state where he was trying to sing some drinking songs, and inventing a couple of new notes along the way. Alan wasn’t much better. The small squire was trying to correct Raoul’s mistakes every few bars or so, just that he wasn’t having much luck with getting it right, between hiccups.
All in all, they were just making a great deal of noise and enjoying themselves in the entirely unashamed and extroverted and uninhibited way only the drunk can. But they were doing so quietly. Relatively speaking.
The bottle was almost empty, although there was more where the first had come from. Raoul hadn’t planned on leaving the alcove until he was almost completely and irrevocably drunk.
He drunk, swaying and his hand slipped a little, spilling some wine on his clothing. Was it him or was it getting hotter behind the wall-hangings? Mithros, his clothing was now wet and sticky with wine, and Raoul fumbled blindly to take it off. Alan had taken the bottle from him.
It was getting darker, and he wasn’t sure if he’d heard a bell that clanged the midnight hour. They both didn’t know the time that had passed- not at all.
Raoul found himself more and more conscious of his own breathing, and the soft breaths of Alan, beside him. Their reckless youthful energy had been burned off, and the silence that lapsed between them was like a blanket.
And yet it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence.
It was still in the depths of the night- there was no light by which to see, and there had been no window-slit in the alcove, nor any glass pane. anyway. Raoul fumbled for the bottle to drink once more- he didn’t even know why he was drinking- when he found himself pressing his lips to Alan’s. They gave before him- the faint tang of wine, yielding-
A small part of his brain demanded to know what he was doing, but it really didn’t seem entirely important right now. It was as if he had been flooded with a painfully intense and detached awareness of the fact he was kissing Alan, and Alan-
Was deepening the kiss and returning it with a great deal of unpracticed enthusiasm.
They sunk against the cooler walls of the alcove, and Raoul felt his fingers fumble vaguely- Alan’s breeches were loose and coming off, and he was quite aware of the fact that he himself was almost shirtless.
He relished the feel of Alan’s fingers against his skin, and Alan made a soft sound of pleasure, moving closer to him.
“Raoul?” Alan said. “Raoul…I-“
And all the while, what was going through Raoul’s head was that Alan kissed better than any girl he’d kissed so far. (Which wasn’t very many.)
“Raoul?” He heard a voice ask, both quizzical and then once more. “Alan!” This time, it was tinged with worry, and- an emotion Raoul could not quite identify right now. A breeze of cool air swept the sweat from his face, and when he turned and looked, Raoul realised the wall-hangings had been pulled open, and Jon and Gary stood there.
There was the faint smell of musk and sweat about Jon, and he looked weary but contented, although now his expression was completely worried- and there was that something else again.
Jon knelt down, and lifted his half-passed out squire in his arms. He was surprisingly tender and gentle, and Raoul found himself wondering why. But Alan mumbled briefly, reached for him for a moment. Their fingers brushed and then Jon stood up with a bit of a grunt. Alan was slight for his age, which meant it was easy to lift him. “C’mon,” Jon murmured, although he shot a disquieting look at Raoul. “Time to get you back to your room, squire.”
That left big, burly Gary for Raoul’s rescue, and his friend confirmed that as he helped Raoul up. The whole room decided then to start wheeling around in circles, and Raoul wavered, and it was only Gary who stopped him from collapsing completely.
“You need to get back to your room.” Gary said, in concern. Raoul was distantly aware he should be thankful Gary remained silent. The cool air had helped to sober him only briefly and slightly, and he made it back to his quarters, before collapsing on the bed, fully-dressed.
When Raoul woke up, he had the mother of all hangovers. He dunked his head in the cold water basin, hoping it would make some kind of difference.
It did. Instead of a throbbing head, he now had a slightly-less throbbing head, was cold and dripping, as well as exceedingly grumpy.
A knock came at his door, and he called out, “Coming!", wincing as his head protested at it. He opened the door to find Squire Alan there. Raoul couldn’t remember just what had happened the previous night, except he’d been drinking with Alan…and kissed…someone.
It was nothing but flashes. “Duke Baird has a store of something for hangovers.” Alan said, briefly. He seemed uncomfortable, fidgeting slightly as he held out the stoppered glass.
Raoul mumbled his thanks, and then said it a little louder. He took the bottle from Alan, being careful not to make any contact at all. Alan’s discomfort was infectious. What had he done when he had been drunk? He downed most of the hangover relief medication and found, to his relief, he felt a little better.
Alan hadn’t moved. “Uh…Raoul?” He asked, uncertainly. He remained in the open doorway.
“Alan?” Raoul asked. He winced a little. His head still hurt. He envied Alan, who evidently hadn’t much of a hangover. Or maybe it was Alan’s Gift at work.
Alan twisted his hands nervously. Raoul was reminded of the boy who had first come to the palace for page training. The sun was streaming in, and it illuminated the fiery red hair with a crown of red-gold. Raoul took a step forward.
He remembered a kiss.
Alan. Against him.
What are you doing? He asked himself. Alan’s a squire!
They stood there, two figures pausing, fixed in a moment and silence that seemed to last unendurably long, both caught in the throes of different thoughts, different questions, different decisions.
A/N: Yes, I did this on purpose. No resolution to this- although if you treat it as canon, then obviously you can approximately guess what the resolution was.
I was a little inspired to make the first part light, although since I’m not really consistently good at humor, it got away from me towards the end.
Rating: PG-13 for safety, but be warned because Raoul thinks he’s homosexual. And they only kiss. References to sex, so be warned again.
Length: 1677 words
Category: Tortall
Summary: Why Sir Raoul really doesn’t like parties. Or drinking. Based on the quote from Squire where Raoul tells Kel that liquor turns him into someone he doesn’t like.
Peculiar Pairing: Raoul/Alan(na)
Sir Raoul of Goldenlake was decidedly and belligerently drunk, and decided quite spontaneously and instantaneously that he liked it. Belting out bawdy songs (or at least what the young knight thought was bawdy- Alan would soon show him he was quite wrong, with the songs he had picked up from the men of Fort Drell.) was pretty awesome too.
In any case, it made him a mild social embarrassment and gave him a rather convenient excuse to duck all sorts of social events and obligations, including hiding from Lady Roxanne of Elden who was quite determined to get a dance from him. The Code of Chivalry was rather explicit on what he was expected to do.
The wine was good and had mildly mellowed him. Douglass was nowhere to be found, and so Raoul decided that meant he didn’t even need to make a token effort to maintain an appearance.
The gilded finery of parties began to sicken him, after exposure to battle at the River Drell.
He shook his head muzzily to clear such thoughts. He had managed to sneak away with more than a whole bottle. Drink deep, he thought.
Alanna decided, quite grumpily, and for about the millionth time that she absolutely hated social events. It didn’t help that Lady Delia of Eldorne seemed quite determined to pursue her, and had been asking her for small favours and five dances since the beginning of the ball, and Alanna was quite fed up by now.
She would have laughed herself sick at the irony of the female pursuing the male instead- for that was what ‘Alan’ was, even if Alanna was female. But she wasn’t in the mood to laugh, and when Lady Delia was busy coquettishly trying to win some rather unchaste kisses from Jon, she found herself asking Jon, who absent-mindedly told her she was dismissed.
Thus freed of any obligations, she made her way down the corridors, kicking at the flagstones sullenly. Her mood had gotten worse when she saw Jon falling for Delia’s charms, and knew that it would be another day of Jon sulking (she was reluctant to dignify it with any other term) if Delia was playing her games again.
Particularly if Delia didn’t let him take her to his bed.
She saw the slight lump behind the wall-hangings that depicted a map of the fiefs north of Corus, and grinned slightly, her bad mood dissipating rather unexpectedly.
That had to be Raoul. And at the prospect of running into someone else who was at least not particularly enamored with Lady Delia, Alanna cheered up. Slightly.
Raoul wasn’t entirely drunk just yet. He was, at the moment, significantly more than slightly tipsy, and as the hangings parted to reveal the small alcove, he blinked at the light let in from the flickering torches on the castle wall.
“Oh, itsh you, Alan,” He managed, feeling quite oddly proud that he’d managed a seminally coherent sentence, with only the occasional slur. He briefly saluted him with the wine bottle. “Eshcaping Lady Delia?”
The Eldorne girl’s pursuit of Alan had been very well known. What was equally well-known was Alan’s many attempts to evade her.
Alan muttered something under his breath, and Raoul grinned. “Care to share a drink?” He invited. “A drink to escaping Lady Delia…and to evading some of those pesky balls.”
He half-expected Alan to decline. After all, Alan drank the least of them all and was normally sober. However, this time, after a moment’s hesitation, the slight boy nodded. Raoul grinned. He handed the bottle over.
By now, Raoul was in more than just a mellow state of mind. If Alan had stripped on the spot and begun a dance naked with flashing neon lights, he wouldn’t have noticed and he would have found that to be perfectly fine.
He was also in a state where he was trying to sing some drinking songs, and inventing a couple of new notes along the way. Alan wasn’t much better. The small squire was trying to correct Raoul’s mistakes every few bars or so, just that he wasn’t having much luck with getting it right, between hiccups.
All in all, they were just making a great deal of noise and enjoying themselves in the entirely unashamed and extroverted and uninhibited way only the drunk can. But they were doing so quietly. Relatively speaking.
The bottle was almost empty, although there was more where the first had come from. Raoul hadn’t planned on leaving the alcove until he was almost completely and irrevocably drunk.
He drunk, swaying and his hand slipped a little, spilling some wine on his clothing. Was it him or was it getting hotter behind the wall-hangings? Mithros, his clothing was now wet and sticky with wine, and Raoul fumbled blindly to take it off. Alan had taken the bottle from him.
It was getting darker, and he wasn’t sure if he’d heard a bell that clanged the midnight hour. They both didn’t know the time that had passed- not at all.
Raoul found himself more and more conscious of his own breathing, and the soft breaths of Alan, beside him. Their reckless youthful energy had been burned off, and the silence that lapsed between them was like a blanket.
And yet it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence.
It was still in the depths of the night- there was no light by which to see, and there had been no window-slit in the alcove, nor any glass pane. anyway. Raoul fumbled for the bottle to drink once more- he didn’t even know why he was drinking- when he found himself pressing his lips to Alan’s. They gave before him- the faint tang of wine, yielding-
A small part of his brain demanded to know what he was doing, but it really didn’t seem entirely important right now. It was as if he had been flooded with a painfully intense and detached awareness of the fact he was kissing Alan, and Alan-
Was deepening the kiss and returning it with a great deal of unpracticed enthusiasm.
They sunk against the cooler walls of the alcove, and Raoul felt his fingers fumble vaguely- Alan’s breeches were loose and coming off, and he was quite aware of the fact that he himself was almost shirtless.
He relished the feel of Alan’s fingers against his skin, and Alan made a soft sound of pleasure, moving closer to him.
“Raoul?” Alan said. “Raoul…I-“
And all the while, what was going through Raoul’s head was that Alan kissed better than any girl he’d kissed so far. (Which wasn’t very many.)
“Raoul?” He heard a voice ask, both quizzical and then once more. “Alan!” This time, it was tinged with worry, and- an emotion Raoul could not quite identify right now. A breeze of cool air swept the sweat from his face, and when he turned and looked, Raoul realised the wall-hangings had been pulled open, and Jon and Gary stood there.
There was the faint smell of musk and sweat about Jon, and he looked weary but contented, although now his expression was completely worried- and there was that something else again.
Jon knelt down, and lifted his half-passed out squire in his arms. He was surprisingly tender and gentle, and Raoul found himself wondering why. But Alan mumbled briefly, reached for him for a moment. Their fingers brushed and then Jon stood up with a bit of a grunt. Alan was slight for his age, which meant it was easy to lift him. “C’mon,” Jon murmured, although he shot a disquieting look at Raoul. “Time to get you back to your room, squire.”
That left big, burly Gary for Raoul’s rescue, and his friend confirmed that as he helped Raoul up. The whole room decided then to start wheeling around in circles, and Raoul wavered, and it was only Gary who stopped him from collapsing completely.
“You need to get back to your room.” Gary said, in concern. Raoul was distantly aware he should be thankful Gary remained silent. The cool air had helped to sober him only briefly and slightly, and he made it back to his quarters, before collapsing on the bed, fully-dressed.
When Raoul woke up, he had the mother of all hangovers. He dunked his head in the cold water basin, hoping it would make some kind of difference.
It did. Instead of a throbbing head, he now had a slightly-less throbbing head, was cold and dripping, as well as exceedingly grumpy.
A knock came at his door, and he called out, “Coming!", wincing as his head protested at it. He opened the door to find Squire Alan there. Raoul couldn’t remember just what had happened the previous night, except he’d been drinking with Alan…and kissed…someone.
It was nothing but flashes. “Duke Baird has a store of something for hangovers.” Alan said, briefly. He seemed uncomfortable, fidgeting slightly as he held out the stoppered glass.
Raoul mumbled his thanks, and then said it a little louder. He took the bottle from Alan, being careful not to make any contact at all. Alan’s discomfort was infectious. What had he done when he had been drunk? He downed most of the hangover relief medication and found, to his relief, he felt a little better.
Alan hadn’t moved. “Uh…Raoul?” He asked, uncertainly. He remained in the open doorway.
“Alan?” Raoul asked. He winced a little. His head still hurt. He envied Alan, who evidently hadn’t much of a hangover. Or maybe it was Alan’s Gift at work.
Alan twisted his hands nervously. Raoul was reminded of the boy who had first come to the palace for page training. The sun was streaming in, and it illuminated the fiery red hair with a crown of red-gold. Raoul took a step forward.
He remembered a kiss.
Alan. Against him.
What are you doing? He asked himself. Alan’s a squire!
They stood there, two figures pausing, fixed in a moment and silence that seemed to last unendurably long, both caught in the throes of different thoughts, different questions, different decisions.
A/N: Yes, I did this on purpose. No resolution to this- although if you treat it as canon, then obviously you can approximately guess what the resolution was.
I was a little inspired to make the first part light, although since I’m not really consistently good at humor, it got away from me towards the end.
Raoul is just adorable, and I like how you've shown the different stages of his drunkenness ♥
