The History Boys: Irwin/Dakin
Fandom: The History Boys
Pairing: Irwin/Dakin
Theme Set: Alpha
Rating: Maybe PG-13
Dedicated to misplacedmarble, and crossposted to my journal and drinkswithdakin.
This also contains references to 'The Charioteer', by Mary Renault; 'Maurice', by E.M. Forster; Oscar Wilde; and 'Jeeves and the Tie that Binds', by P.G. Wodehouse.
Comfort: Dakin seems to have absolutely no concept of comfort zones, personal space, or anything else that would separate him from Irwin.
Kiss: There is no guard left between Irwin and Dakin when they kiss; Irwin's glasses, his last refuge, lie disregarded on the table.
Soft: For all the fuss and gel he uses, Dakin's hair is remarkably soft: Irwin strokes it with one hand and keeps his page in Nietzsche with the other.
Pain: Dakin has absolutely no idea of how painful he is for Irwin - or perhaps he does, and that would be even worse.
Potatoes: Irwin usually cooks standard Yorkshire comfort food, bangers and mash: Dakin won't stop teasing him about 'gourmet meals for two' until Irwin snaps him with a tea-towel.
Rain: "I can't go out in that", Dakin says, eying the downpour outside, "Oh dear, what shall we do until it stops?"
Chocolate: There's an oddly heavy parcel on Irwin's doorstep, postmarked Oxford: he opens it to find a tin of chocolate icing and a note saying Three weeks till the end of term - it'll keep until then. D.
Happiness: If, at the beginning of that last year, someone had told Dakin that he'd find lasting happiness in the arms of his (so-far-in-the-closet-he's-in-Narnia) History teacher, he'd have told them to get air holes drilled in their skull.
Telephone: The best part of Irwin's weekends, during term-time at least, is when he picks up the telephone to hear Dakin's phone-sex voice purring down the line.
Ears: There's a spot behind Irwin's left ear that's particularly sensitive, as Dakin discovers to his great delight.
Name: "Tom Irwin", Dakin says as he goes through Irwin's post, "That your real name? I think I liked it better when you were 'sir'."
Sensual: Irwin thinks there's something desperately sensual about the way Dakin smokes, lips pursing around his cigarette and exhaling with reluctance.
Death: The only death of Hector they discuss these days is the one that occurs in The Iliad.
Sex: Irwin really, really didn't expect to round off the school year by having wild sex with one of his students on the ancient sofa in his sitting room, but he couldn't say he was upset.
Touch: It was that brief, one-armed hug Dakin gave him at Fountains Abbey that made Irwin realize what was shaping up for him.
Weakness: Irwin's three weaknesses are: telling the truth, Dakin, and Dakin's lips.
Tears: Dakin wants Irwin's approval so badly he could cry.
Speed: This is all happening too fast, Irwin thinks, the first time Dakin kisses him: then he lets himself be pulled in.
Wind: Dakin's very adept at figuring out exactly how far he can wind Irwin up.
Freedom: Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose: and Irwin has nothing left to lose as he lets Dakin unbutton his shirt.
Life: This is not the life that Irwin planned for himself at all, but he realizes that he wouldn't have it any other way.
Jealousy: If Posner's still jealous, Dakin never mentions it - regardless, Irwin rarely if ever goes to see him at Oxford.
Hands: Dakin's hands are surprisingly elegant; whether keeping his place in Auden or twined in Irwin's hair.
Taste: You tasted like freedom the first time we kissed, Dakin would say later: I tasted like fags and really bad coffee, Irwin would reply.
Devotion: Dakin has no sodding clue how he's ended up so attached - one might say devoted - to his closeted, neurotic and impetuous (not to mention male!) ex-teacher.
Forever: Irwin's studied History long enough to know that nothing lasts forever, least of all love - but for the first time in his life, he wishes he didn't know that.
Blood: There's a blood bag draining into Irwin's hand, and as Dakin perches on the uncomfortable bedside chair, a feeling like nausea catches in his throat: the fear of having almost lost something so unfinished.
Sickness: Irwin fixes him hot orange juice with honey and makes him stay in bed on the days he's ill; no matter how much Dakin whines, he enjoys it.
Melody: "I like your books", Dakin says, looking over his shoulder as he rifles through Irwin's LP collection, "but your music's crap": Irwin decides not to tell him about the Queen records he has somewhere.
Star: 'We are all lying in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars', Dakin declaims, as Irwin laughs despite himself.
Home: When the lock on their front door snicks home, the parts of them that are Oxford student, professor, tired, stressed and out-of-sorts are all left at the door.
Confusion: When he was seventeen, Irwin read The Charioteer for the first time, and didn't understand Laurie's confusion: now, at twenty-seven, he re-reads it, and understands so deeply it hurts.
Fear: Dakin hates this fear, because if there's one thing he's not, it's a coward.
Lightning/Thunder: The first time Irwin spends the weekend with Dakin in Oxford, there's a fantastic thunderstorm; they sit up in Dakin's rooms, high in Meadow Buildings, and watch as lightning splits open a purple sky above All Souls' bone-white belltower.
Bonds: 'Why do you stay with me?' Irwin asks one night, drowsy from medication; Dakin thinks for a moment and then quotes, 'Because, sir, there is a tie that binds.'
Market: They go to Germany for the Christmas Markets one year, an impulsive weekend trip: they drink gluehwein in boot-shaped mugs and watch the crowds go by.
Technology: Dakin laughs as he reads the note Irwin's sent him, three weeks into Michaelmas Term: 'It's called a phone, Dakin, you might want to learn how to use it.'
Gift: Before Dakin leaves for Oxford, Irwin gives him his old, battered, much-loved copy of E.M. Forster's Maurice, with both their names written on the flyleaf in messy Biro.
Smile: Irwin only really smiles at Dakin: not a vague flash, not an automatic rictus, but a real, relaxed, genuinely amused smile.
Innocence: 'Never such innocence again', Dakin reads, as Irwin reflects on both how ironic and how true that is.
Completion: Irwin occasionally wonders if there isn't something to Aristophanes's theory of lovers being two halves of one soul, after all.
Clouds: The sky's the colour of bruises and the rain lashes at the windows; but Irwin's settled in his armchair, Dakin's sprawled on the hearth rug, the gas-fire is on, and all's right with the world.
Sky: The sky over Christ Church is an endless canopy of blue, as they lie on their backs on the picnic blanket amongst the remnants of lunch and good conversation.
Heaven: It's hard to apply even the loosest definition of 'heaven' to a two-bedroomed dilapidated terraced house in Horsforth, but nonetheless, it works for them.
Hell: Trying to take his mind off of Dakin, Irwin takes down a book at random: he swears when he reads The best way to remove temptation is to give in, bites the skin around his thumbnail, and thinks that hell must be very much like this.
Sun: Dakin gets used to waking up before sunrise in the winter, lying in the warm bed while Irwin bangs around making coffee.
Moon: The first time they sleep together, Irwin finds himself lying awake at midnight and staring at the rays of moonlight on the ceiling: the non-sight is familiar, but Dakin's warm weight against his shoulder is not.
Waves: A single touch of hand to shoulder, and the waves have resonated so far into their lives from that single contact.
Hair: 'Dakin, it's nine o'clock and you've been in the bathroom since seven - even your hair can't take that long.'
Supernova: Their affair is like a supernova: burning for a long time, sinking to a single compressed point, and finally exploding free of its boundaries.
Pairing: Irwin/Dakin
Theme Set: Alpha
Rating: Maybe PG-13
Dedicated to misplacedmarble, and crossposted to my journal and drinkswithdakin.
This also contains references to 'The Charioteer', by Mary Renault; 'Maurice', by E.M. Forster; Oscar Wilde; and 'Jeeves and the Tie that Binds', by P.G. Wodehouse.
Comfort: Dakin seems to have absolutely no concept of comfort zones, personal space, or anything else that would separate him from Irwin.
Kiss: There is no guard left between Irwin and Dakin when they kiss; Irwin's glasses, his last refuge, lie disregarded on the table.
Soft: For all the fuss and gel he uses, Dakin's hair is remarkably soft: Irwin strokes it with one hand and keeps his page in Nietzsche with the other.
Pain: Dakin has absolutely no idea of how painful he is for Irwin - or perhaps he does, and that would be even worse.
Potatoes: Irwin usually cooks standard Yorkshire comfort food, bangers and mash: Dakin won't stop teasing him about 'gourmet meals for two' until Irwin snaps him with a tea-towel.
Rain: "I can't go out in that", Dakin says, eying the downpour outside, "Oh dear, what shall we do until it stops?"
Chocolate: There's an oddly heavy parcel on Irwin's doorstep, postmarked Oxford: he opens it to find a tin of chocolate icing and a note saying Three weeks till the end of term - it'll keep until then. D.
Happiness: If, at the beginning of that last year, someone had told Dakin that he'd find lasting happiness in the arms of his (so-far-in-the-closet-he's-in-Narnia) History teacher, he'd have told them to get air holes drilled in their skull.
Telephone: The best part of Irwin's weekends, during term-time at least, is when he picks up the telephone to hear Dakin's phone-sex voice purring down the line.
Ears: There's a spot behind Irwin's left ear that's particularly sensitive, as Dakin discovers to his great delight.
Name: "Tom Irwin", Dakin says as he goes through Irwin's post, "That your real name? I think I liked it better when you were 'sir'."
Sensual: Irwin thinks there's something desperately sensual about the way Dakin smokes, lips pursing around his cigarette and exhaling with reluctance.
Death: The only death of Hector they discuss these days is the one that occurs in The Iliad.
Sex: Irwin really, really didn't expect to round off the school year by having wild sex with one of his students on the ancient sofa in his sitting room, but he couldn't say he was upset.
Touch: It was that brief, one-armed hug Dakin gave him at Fountains Abbey that made Irwin realize what was shaping up for him.
Weakness: Irwin's three weaknesses are: telling the truth, Dakin, and Dakin's lips.
Tears: Dakin wants Irwin's approval so badly he could cry.
Speed: This is all happening too fast, Irwin thinks, the first time Dakin kisses him: then he lets himself be pulled in.
Wind: Dakin's very adept at figuring out exactly how far he can wind Irwin up.
Freedom: Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose: and Irwin has nothing left to lose as he lets Dakin unbutton his shirt.
Life: This is not the life that Irwin planned for himself at all, but he realizes that he wouldn't have it any other way.
Jealousy: If Posner's still jealous, Dakin never mentions it - regardless, Irwin rarely if ever goes to see him at Oxford.
Hands: Dakin's hands are surprisingly elegant; whether keeping his place in Auden or twined in Irwin's hair.
Taste: You tasted like freedom the first time we kissed, Dakin would say later: I tasted like fags and really bad coffee, Irwin would reply.
Devotion: Dakin has no sodding clue how he's ended up so attached - one might say devoted - to his closeted, neurotic and impetuous (not to mention male!) ex-teacher.
Forever: Irwin's studied History long enough to know that nothing lasts forever, least of all love - but for the first time in his life, he wishes he didn't know that.
Blood: There's a blood bag draining into Irwin's hand, and as Dakin perches on the uncomfortable bedside chair, a feeling like nausea catches in his throat: the fear of having almost lost something so unfinished.
Sickness: Irwin fixes him hot orange juice with honey and makes him stay in bed on the days he's ill; no matter how much Dakin whines, he enjoys it.
Melody: "I like your books", Dakin says, looking over his shoulder as he rifles through Irwin's LP collection, "but your music's crap": Irwin decides not to tell him about the Queen records he has somewhere.
Star: 'We are all lying in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars', Dakin declaims, as Irwin laughs despite himself.
Home: When the lock on their front door snicks home, the parts of them that are Oxford student, professor, tired, stressed and out-of-sorts are all left at the door.
Confusion: When he was seventeen, Irwin read The Charioteer for the first time, and didn't understand Laurie's confusion: now, at twenty-seven, he re-reads it, and understands so deeply it hurts.
Fear: Dakin hates this fear, because if there's one thing he's not, it's a coward.
Lightning/Thunder: The first time Irwin spends the weekend with Dakin in Oxford, there's a fantastic thunderstorm; they sit up in Dakin's rooms, high in Meadow Buildings, and watch as lightning splits open a purple sky above All Souls' bone-white belltower.
Bonds: 'Why do you stay with me?' Irwin asks one night, drowsy from medication; Dakin thinks for a moment and then quotes, 'Because, sir, there is a tie that binds.'
Market: They go to Germany for the Christmas Markets one year, an impulsive weekend trip: they drink gluehwein in boot-shaped mugs and watch the crowds go by.
Technology: Dakin laughs as he reads the note Irwin's sent him, three weeks into Michaelmas Term: 'It's called a phone, Dakin, you might want to learn how to use it.'
Gift: Before Dakin leaves for Oxford, Irwin gives him his old, battered, much-loved copy of E.M. Forster's Maurice, with both their names written on the flyleaf in messy Biro.
Smile: Irwin only really smiles at Dakin: not a vague flash, not an automatic rictus, but a real, relaxed, genuinely amused smile.
Innocence: 'Never such innocence again', Dakin reads, as Irwin reflects on both how ironic and how true that is.
Completion: Irwin occasionally wonders if there isn't something to Aristophanes's theory of lovers being two halves of one soul, after all.
Clouds: The sky's the colour of bruises and the rain lashes at the windows; but Irwin's settled in his armchair, Dakin's sprawled on the hearth rug, the gas-fire is on, and all's right with the world.
Sky: The sky over Christ Church is an endless canopy of blue, as they lie on their backs on the picnic blanket amongst the remnants of lunch and good conversation.
Heaven: It's hard to apply even the loosest definition of 'heaven' to a two-bedroomed dilapidated terraced house in Horsforth, but nonetheless, it works for them.
Hell: Trying to take his mind off of Dakin, Irwin takes down a book at random: he swears when he reads The best way to remove temptation is to give in, bites the skin around his thumbnail, and thinks that hell must be very much like this.
Sun: Dakin gets used to waking up before sunrise in the winter, lying in the warm bed while Irwin bangs around making coffee.
Moon: The first time they sleep together, Irwin finds himself lying awake at midnight and staring at the rays of moonlight on the ceiling: the non-sight is familiar, but Dakin's warm weight against his shoulder is not.
Waves: A single touch of hand to shoulder, and the waves have resonated so far into their lives from that single contact.
Hair: 'Dakin, it's nine o'clock and you've been in the bathroom since seven - even your hair can't take that long.'
Supernova: Their affair is like a supernova: burning for a long time, sinking to a single compressed point, and finally exploding free of its boundaries.