Have a Hornblower/Temeraire crossover
Old thing is old. I've tried to finish it, but I don't think it's going to happen. I first posted it on DW, but that version is silly.
So basically Archie Kennedy and John Granby flirt a lot over dinner while both Williams are silly goofballs; this takes place during Throne of Jade and magically places the Renown near the vicinity.
It was a fine clear evening when Granby and Laurence took the little rowboat to the Renown. The ship’s hands were quick with their oars and Granby could at least pretend to look as if he were going to enjoy the next few hours, surrounded by stiff-necked sailors. His previous shared suppers with such people often proved to be awkward affairs, even if Granby took the care to emulate his captain’s mode of manner. On the other hand, Laurence, he could see, was in an inexplicably good mood that showed through his bright eyes and quirk of his mouth. Though he did not speak of it, Granby suspected that it may have something to do with old shipmates and the chance to dine with the famously daring Captain Sawyer, so perhaps his pessimism was unwarranted; Riley, after all, turn out to be a decent fellow-that is, until he and Laurence got themselves wretchedly estranged onboard the Allegiance that quickly took on the effect of a growing snowball.
Granby sighed and fretfully passed a hand over his eyes. He had no right to judge what relationships Laurence kept in the Navy, but he certainly did not have a very good impression of it. Sitting on his right, Ferris gave him a small nudge, as if he knew precisely what was going through his mind. Ferris, at least, had an easier time of formal dining from experience back home, though Granby assumed it was due more to the fact that, when it came down to it, Ferris was more preoccupied with stuffing his gullet than making conversation.
“Ah, there he is,” Laurence said suddenly, craning his neck to look up. “Renown’s second lieutenant, William Bush-he and I served as midshipmen together. Why, look at him, I haven’t seen him in a dog’s age. I am happy to see he looks well, though.”
Taciturn, Laurence was not, but neither would Granby describe him as cheerfully chatty, save in the presence of Temeraire. Glancing at the Renown, he could see a line of lieutenants, but did not presume any one of them to be the person Laurence spoke of just yet.
And yet, he was not at all surprised when he shook hands with the lieutenant with the most solemn expression out of all, and who his captain introduced him as none other than Lieutenant Bush himself. And down the line were Horatio Hornblower and Archie Kennedy, the third and forth acting-lieutenant, respectively, with a Mr. Buckland as their first. Granby went through the motions with a brief smile for each and found that Buckland appeared too anxious to notice, but Hornblower and Kennedy were polite enough to return the favor.
“I regret to inform you that Captain Sawyer is unable to dine tonight, he has taken a sudden-“ Mr. Buckland was saying to Laurence, “I would not like to disturb his rest, sir-”
It was, perhaps, an ominous start to the meal, but Laurence was willing to forego the slight irregularity in protocol. To be honest, Granby did not give two figs for whether or not the Renown’s captain would grace them with his presence; it was only later that he would find out that Sawyer was something of legend, as Laurence quietly and subtly expressed in passing.
“And Hornblower, I believe, is quite an astounding man in his own right,” Laurence said to Ferris as they went down the hatchway to the captain’s table.
“His deeds never fail to disappoint, from what the Gazette tells me,” Granby agreed, abruptly recalling the articles, and took another glance at Hornblower-an admittedly wholly unassuming young man.
They were seated around the table in good order. Buckland was at the head, and proved to be a good host coupled with Laurence at his right as the guest of honor. Granby found himself sitting next to Kennedy and with plenty of chances to look over Hornblower from across, if he so choose to make more presumptions-he had a rather bad habit of it, try as he might to quit.
Conversation turned out livelier than Granby expected it to be. Ferris, at ease from the free flow of wine, had engaged himself with Hornblower, apparently taking Laurence’s admiration to heart. Hornblower was restrained and quiet at first, as most Navy officers tend to be, but eventually relented against Ferris’ earnest inquires and started to smile on his own accord. Granby, however, found himself staring in Laurence’s direction, unfairly rude to Kennedy, but neither was Kennedy entirely focused either; they were both gaping at the front of the table.
Lieutenant Bush was currently giggling helplessly into his glass of wine. Judging from Kennedy’s stupefied expression, this was not a frequent occurrence, if at all.
“Come now, Bush, I know how fond you are of turnips,” Laurence said and-Granby could scarcely credit his eyes-actually leaned over the table to offer a piece skewered on a fork, waving it. Bush recoiled in mock horror, but not without choking on his drink first. Looking lost, Buckland thumped Bush on the back while Laurence fell into a fit of barely suppressed laughter.
“Good god, we are barely on the first course, are they drunk?” Kennedy asked in an undertone, biting his bottom lip as if to avoid laughing himself.
Granby took no such caution and grinned. “I was told that they served as midshipmen together, back when Laurence was in the Navy.”
“Lord, I wouldn’t be surprised if they drove their officers mad,” Kennedy said, shaking his head.
Granby blinked with suddenly clarity, abruptly hitting upon the fact that they probably did. “Nor I,” he said with another sidelong look at his captain. He could now very well imagine the unruly boy that ran away to sea. Laurence must have been a little terror before the Navy had him ironed out-well, almost ironed out. The thought put a smile to Granby’s face.
“Bush loathes turnips,” Kennedy said wonderingly, tearing his gaze away from the scene. There was a flush of color on his cheeks that owed little to his untouched glass of wine, which prompted Granby to down his quickly.
“If there is a story behind that, I do not want to know,” he said, reaching to the bottle to refill.
“There isn’t,” Bush said, overhearing, at the same time Laurence snorted loud enough to imply otherwise, and a fresh burst of friendly banter erupted right after.
“Goodness,” Kennedy murmured, finally taking his wineglass and nodded his thanks when Granby tipped the bottle his way.
The meal progressed quickly; the merriment lead by Laurence and Bush with their stories of past adventures as boys, which was half the entertainment. The other half was the reactions of the men around the table, a good cross between amusement and bafflement. Granby found himself part of the former group with each sip of his wine.
“Now there’s a relief; our midwingmen are just as mischievous,” he let slip before he could help himself, and he was letting things slip an awful lot lately. “I was beginning to think that it was just us aviators.”
There was a moment’s pause between them. Granby shifted in his seat and his foot tapped against Kennedy’s, as it had many times during the meal. It was a crowded table, and if Kennedy felt no inclination to move his foot then Granby was willing to keep it there.
“Oh? And what sort of trouble do aviators get into, Mr. Granby?” Kennedy asked, not moving at all.
His smile, Granby thought, was rather ludicrous. It was sunny and winsome and invited all sorts of encouragement Granby believed to be not quite innocent at all. Annoyingly, Kennedy also possessed the kind of smile that went quite marvelously well with his eyes. Buoyed by the alcohol and that the fact that Kennedy’s leg was pressed against his, Granby leaned a little closer, as if to tell a secret.
“I am afraid I’m not at liberty to say just yet,” he replied, and saw Kennedy’s smile grow wider until it showed teeth.
So basically Archie Kennedy and John Granby flirt a lot over dinner while both Williams are silly goofballs; this takes place during Throne of Jade and magically places the Renown near the vicinity.
It was a fine clear evening when Granby and Laurence took the little rowboat to the Renown. The ship’s hands were quick with their oars and Granby could at least pretend to look as if he were going to enjoy the next few hours, surrounded by stiff-necked sailors. His previous shared suppers with such people often proved to be awkward affairs, even if Granby took the care to emulate his captain’s mode of manner. On the other hand, Laurence, he could see, was in an inexplicably good mood that showed through his bright eyes and quirk of his mouth. Though he did not speak of it, Granby suspected that it may have something to do with old shipmates and the chance to dine with the famously daring Captain Sawyer, so perhaps his pessimism was unwarranted; Riley, after all, turn out to be a decent fellow-that is, until he and Laurence got themselves wretchedly estranged onboard the Allegiance that quickly took on the effect of a growing snowball.
Granby sighed and fretfully passed a hand over his eyes. He had no right to judge what relationships Laurence kept in the Navy, but he certainly did not have a very good impression of it. Sitting on his right, Ferris gave him a small nudge, as if he knew precisely what was going through his mind. Ferris, at least, had an easier time of formal dining from experience back home, though Granby assumed it was due more to the fact that, when it came down to it, Ferris was more preoccupied with stuffing his gullet than making conversation.
“Ah, there he is,” Laurence said suddenly, craning his neck to look up. “Renown’s second lieutenant, William Bush-he and I served as midshipmen together. Why, look at him, I haven’t seen him in a dog’s age. I am happy to see he looks well, though.”
Taciturn, Laurence was not, but neither would Granby describe him as cheerfully chatty, save in the presence of Temeraire. Glancing at the Renown, he could see a line of lieutenants, but did not presume any one of them to be the person Laurence spoke of just yet.
And yet, he was not at all surprised when he shook hands with the lieutenant with the most solemn expression out of all, and who his captain introduced him as none other than Lieutenant Bush himself. And down the line were Horatio Hornblower and Archie Kennedy, the third and forth acting-lieutenant, respectively, with a Mr. Buckland as their first. Granby went through the motions with a brief smile for each and found that Buckland appeared too anxious to notice, but Hornblower and Kennedy were polite enough to return the favor.
“I regret to inform you that Captain Sawyer is unable to dine tonight, he has taken a sudden-“ Mr. Buckland was saying to Laurence, “I would not like to disturb his rest, sir-”
It was, perhaps, an ominous start to the meal, but Laurence was willing to forego the slight irregularity in protocol. To be honest, Granby did not give two figs for whether or not the Renown’s captain would grace them with his presence; it was only later that he would find out that Sawyer was something of legend, as Laurence quietly and subtly expressed in passing.
“And Hornblower, I believe, is quite an astounding man in his own right,” Laurence said to Ferris as they went down the hatchway to the captain’s table.
“His deeds never fail to disappoint, from what the Gazette tells me,” Granby agreed, abruptly recalling the articles, and took another glance at Hornblower-an admittedly wholly unassuming young man.
They were seated around the table in good order. Buckland was at the head, and proved to be a good host coupled with Laurence at his right as the guest of honor. Granby found himself sitting next to Kennedy and with plenty of chances to look over Hornblower from across, if he so choose to make more presumptions-he had a rather bad habit of it, try as he might to quit.
Conversation turned out livelier than Granby expected it to be. Ferris, at ease from the free flow of wine, had engaged himself with Hornblower, apparently taking Laurence’s admiration to heart. Hornblower was restrained and quiet at first, as most Navy officers tend to be, but eventually relented against Ferris’ earnest inquires and started to smile on his own accord. Granby, however, found himself staring in Laurence’s direction, unfairly rude to Kennedy, but neither was Kennedy entirely focused either; they were both gaping at the front of the table.
Lieutenant Bush was currently giggling helplessly into his glass of wine. Judging from Kennedy’s stupefied expression, this was not a frequent occurrence, if at all.
“Come now, Bush, I know how fond you are of turnips,” Laurence said and-Granby could scarcely credit his eyes-actually leaned over the table to offer a piece skewered on a fork, waving it. Bush recoiled in mock horror, but not without choking on his drink first. Looking lost, Buckland thumped Bush on the back while Laurence fell into a fit of barely suppressed laughter.
“Good god, we are barely on the first course, are they drunk?” Kennedy asked in an undertone, biting his bottom lip as if to avoid laughing himself.
Granby took no such caution and grinned. “I was told that they served as midshipmen together, back when Laurence was in the Navy.”
“Lord, I wouldn’t be surprised if they drove their officers mad,” Kennedy said, shaking his head.
Granby blinked with suddenly clarity, abruptly hitting upon the fact that they probably did. “Nor I,” he said with another sidelong look at his captain. He could now very well imagine the unruly boy that ran away to sea. Laurence must have been a little terror before the Navy had him ironed out-well, almost ironed out. The thought put a smile to Granby’s face.
“Bush loathes turnips,” Kennedy said wonderingly, tearing his gaze away from the scene. There was a flush of color on his cheeks that owed little to his untouched glass of wine, which prompted Granby to down his quickly.
“If there is a story behind that, I do not want to know,” he said, reaching to the bottle to refill.
“There isn’t,” Bush said, overhearing, at the same time Laurence snorted loud enough to imply otherwise, and a fresh burst of friendly banter erupted right after.
“Goodness,” Kennedy murmured, finally taking his wineglass and nodded his thanks when Granby tipped the bottle his way.
The meal progressed quickly; the merriment lead by Laurence and Bush with their stories of past adventures as boys, which was half the entertainment. The other half was the reactions of the men around the table, a good cross between amusement and bafflement. Granby found himself part of the former group with each sip of his wine.
“Now there’s a relief; our midwingmen are just as mischievous,” he let slip before he could help himself, and he was letting things slip an awful lot lately. “I was beginning to think that it was just us aviators.”
There was a moment’s pause between them. Granby shifted in his seat and his foot tapped against Kennedy’s, as it had many times during the meal. It was a crowded table, and if Kennedy felt no inclination to move his foot then Granby was willing to keep it there.
“Oh? And what sort of trouble do aviators get into, Mr. Granby?” Kennedy asked, not moving at all.
His smile, Granby thought, was rather ludicrous. It was sunny and winsome and invited all sorts of encouragement Granby believed to be not quite innocent at all. Annoyingly, Kennedy also possessed the kind of smile that went quite marvelously well with his eyes. Buoyed by the alcohol and that the fact that Kennedy’s leg was pressed against his, Granby leaned a little closer, as if to tell a secret.
“I am afraid I’m not at liberty to say just yet,” he replied, and saw Kennedy’s smile grow wider until it showed teeth.