Plagues | PG | The House of Eliott
Title: Plagues
Prompt: “That will be all.”
Fandom: Joseph/Bea, The House of Eliott
Requested by: kitnkabootle
Rating: PG
Word Count: 426
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: This prompt was given to me as a joke. I hadn’t really intended to write it but dammit, the idea popped into my head and wouldn’t leave me alone. Let me know what you think!
-
Joseph glances worriedly at the door leading to Beatrice’s office. It has been several hours since she has made an appearance and the business is particularly busy today. It’s unlike her to forgo professionalism for the sake of her personal issues. He peers at his desk and picks up a note from a client that is coming in next week; it’s hardly important (in fact, he could deal with it himself), but it gives him an excuse to seek entrance into her sanctuary.
He knocks on the door and waits only a few seconds for her quiet permission before he enters. He stands in the doorway, watching Beatrice as she leans against the window and looks down upon the busy street below. Her arms are crossed and her shoulders are rigid with tension.
She turns slightly and gives him a sad, forced smile. “What can I do for you, Joseph?” she asks.
At the sight of her crooked smile, a familiar heat burns low in his belly. “A Mrs. Everworth left a message for you, ma’am.”
“Thank you. You can leave it on the desk; I will attend to it this afternoon.”
He does not remind her that it is already late in the afternoon. Instead, he places the paper on her desk and stands dutifully before it. “Are you all right?” he ventures, though he already knows the answer.
“I don’t know, Joseph.” She sighs and turns back towards the window. “I truly don’t know.”
He is already aware of the problems that plague her mind. He knows Beatrice fears a war with her sister. He knows that she fears losing her husband to politics, just as she’s lost him once before to moving pictures. He knows that she fears mirroring her father in her parenting habits. He knows that she fears that her position in the fashion house will soon become obsolete. He can read all of this in the tension in her shoulders.
Joseph clears his throat softly and circles the desk, standing as close as propriety allows. His hand trembles only slightly as he reaches out and comfortingly touches her shoulder.
She allows him this brief informality before she dismissively pats his hand and reminds him of his place. “Thank you, Joseph.” She looks at him over her shoulder and smiles. “That will be all.”
Joseph nods and removes his hand, curling his fingers into his palms to retain the solid warmth of her. He closes the door behind him and sits at his desk, waiting patiently until she should need him.
---
Prompt: “That will be all.”
Fandom: Joseph/Bea, The House of Eliott
Requested by: kitnkabootle
Rating: PG
Word Count: 426
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: This prompt was given to me as a joke. I hadn’t really intended to write it but dammit, the idea popped into my head and wouldn’t leave me alone. Let me know what you think!
-
Joseph glances worriedly at the door leading to Beatrice’s office. It has been several hours since she has made an appearance and the business is particularly busy today. It’s unlike her to forgo professionalism for the sake of her personal issues. He peers at his desk and picks up a note from a client that is coming in next week; it’s hardly important (in fact, he could deal with it himself), but it gives him an excuse to seek entrance into her sanctuary.
He knocks on the door and waits only a few seconds for her quiet permission before he enters. He stands in the doorway, watching Beatrice as she leans against the window and looks down upon the busy street below. Her arms are crossed and her shoulders are rigid with tension.
She turns slightly and gives him a sad, forced smile. “What can I do for you, Joseph?” she asks.
At the sight of her crooked smile, a familiar heat burns low in his belly. “A Mrs. Everworth left a message for you, ma’am.”
“Thank you. You can leave it on the desk; I will attend to it this afternoon.”
He does not remind her that it is already late in the afternoon. Instead, he places the paper on her desk and stands dutifully before it. “Are you all right?” he ventures, though he already knows the answer.
“I don’t know, Joseph.” She sighs and turns back towards the window. “I truly don’t know.”
He is already aware of the problems that plague her mind. He knows Beatrice fears a war with her sister. He knows that she fears losing her husband to politics, just as she’s lost him once before to moving pictures. He knows that she fears mirroring her father in her parenting habits. He knows that she fears that her position in the fashion house will soon become obsolete. He can read all of this in the tension in her shoulders.
Joseph clears his throat softly and circles the desk, standing as close as propriety allows. His hand trembles only slightly as he reaches out and comfortingly touches her shoulder.
She allows him this brief informality before she dismissively pats his hand and reminds him of his place. “Thank you, Joseph.” She looks at him over her shoulder and smiles. “That will be all.”
Joseph nods and removes his hand, curling his fingers into his palms to retain the solid warmth of her. He closes the door behind him and sits at his desk, waiting patiently until she should need him.
---