Summary: Home can take many forms and not all of them are made of brick and stone
Category: Romance, drama
Pairing: Horatio/Archie
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers/Warnings: none.
Notes
Disclaimer

The Indefatigable limped into Portsmouth harbor, the winds of the winter gale howling fiercely and dogging her progress like a hungry wolf after prey.

Her recent engagement off the coast of Le Havre with the French frigate Triomphe had been a brutal one. The Indy had carried the day, but not before the other ship could exact a measure of revenge against her adversary. The tops of both her fore and mainmasts had been shot clean away and her rigging had been a mess. The Indy´s crew had patched her up as best they could and had hobbled home to repair the rest, only to nearly run afoul of a blow of Biblical proportions.

The Channel in winter was a treacherous thing, but this storm was particularly bad, the fierce, biting winds joined by showers of ice that stung the skin and coated the sails and rigging like panes of glass. They had worked feverishly to outrace the storm, the men working the bilges day and night against the water gathering in the well. In the end luck was with them; they managed to arrive home before the worst of the storm slammed into the coast. A collective sigh of relief had gone up when they had reached the safety of the Solent at last. They were home.

It was easy enough to carry out the requisite repairs to the battered Indefatigable; returning to sea was another matter entirely. It had come as something of a surprise when Captain Pellew had announced that the Indefatigable would remain at Portsmouth until the worst of the Channel storms had passed. A week, at least, he said, perhaps even longer if the weather worsened.

And so it was, that for the first time in six years of service that Horatio Hornblower found himself ashore and in England at Christmas.

The prospect should have delighted him, he knew, and at any other time he would have been as pleased as the other members of the Indy´s crew. But this year the holiday was tainted by regret. His father had passed away the previous spring, having taken a chill after riding through the rain to tend a patient. The chill had settled in his lungs and despite the efforts of a brother doctor, his health declined rapidly and he had died soon after from pneumonia. While Dr. Hornblower was far from young, he had always been vigorous and in estimable health and his death had been a shock to all the inhabitants of the small village in Kent where he practiced his vocation, and to his son as well.

Horatio´s heart constricted at the thought that he would never see his father again. Dr. Hornblower could be strict and unyielding in his own way, but Horatio had loved him as only a son could love a father and he felt the loss keenly, almost as keenly as he felt the loss of the mother who had died when he was still a boy.

Horatio was no longer a boy, however, and indulging in excessive grief was unseemly and unproductive. Others had lost as much, if not more than he, after all. Better to turn his attention to his duty and the good of his ship and her crew than to wallow in such morose thoughts. To that end, Horatio had decided to remain aboard the Indefatigable rather than to avail himself of the leave the captain had so graciously extended to his officers. At least that had been his intention. Archie, however, had had other ideas.

“You can´t possibly stay aboard the Indy, Horatio!" he´d announced with a look that clearly indicated that he thought his friend was quite daft. “Even Captain Pellew is going to visit his family in Cornwall."

“Someone needs to stay aboard," Horatio had replied quite sensibly hoping that would be the end of it, but knowing it would not.

“Quite true, but it needn´t be you. Mr. Bracegirdle will be staying aboard. His wife lives here in Portsmouth so he will be able to visit with her easily enough. And Mr. Harvey will be staying as will some of the midshipmen. There is no need for you to stay as well."

“There are still the repairs to see to…

“Which will be carried out in your absence. It will be a good opportunity for the mids to learn the ship´s business. Some of them haven´t even had a good fight with the quartermaster yet," he added with a sly smile. “You wouldn´t want to spoil their fun, would you?"

“Still…"

“We are anchored in Portsmouth Harbor. The ship will not sink without you, Horatio."

Horatio felt a brief flare of annoyance that faded almost as quickly as it had appeared. His shoulders slumped in defeat. He knew that Archie wasn´t going to let this go but he did not wish to speak of his reasons for wanting to stay behind. “Archie…"

“Horatio, we´re wasting time. Please stop dawdling and pack your dunnage. If we tarry any longer we´ll miss the coach."

Horatio blinked, bemused. “What?"

“The coach to London, of course. It leaves in an hour and we still need to go ashore so hurry up."

“London?"

“Yes, London. You´re coming home with me."

He blinked again. “Archie, I can´t."

“You most certainly can. I´ve already sent a note ahead to my sister informing her that I´m coming and that I´m bringing you along with me."

“Archie!"

Archie gave a small, bright laugh. “Don´t look so befogged, Horatio. You didn´t think I was going to leave you alone at Christmas, did you?" Archie´s expression softened. “Especially this Christmas."

Horatio felt his heart constrict once more for an entirely different reason. “I…I would not wish to impose," he replied at last.

“You wouldn´t be imposing, Horatio. I invited you, remember? And Caroline will be delighted. She´s been after me for an age to bring you home for a visit." He chuckled. “If she weren´t a married lady, I´d say she had become infatuated with the dashing Lieutenant Hornblower I´ve been telling her about in my letters."

“Archie…" He felt the need to protest once more, though he knew the battle was already lost.

“Besides," Archie continued, blithely ignoring Horatio´s interruption. “Caroline would have my head if she knew I had run off and abandoned you for the holidays. I will gladly face a squadron of French or Spanish ships, but I am not so foolish as to court my sister´s wrath!" He flashed Horatio a smile that warmed him through. “Now, hurry up! If we miss our coach, I shall tell her it was due to your dawdling. By the time she finishes with you, you will be thinking fondly of that storm we just escaped!"

Swept along by the inexorable force of Archie´s good cheer, Horatio did as he was bade. As he sat huddled in his coat inside the drafty coach some time later, Horatio could not help but admire the skill with which Archie had managed the entire affair. He had known that Horatio would protest, so Archie had waited until the last minute to inform him of the scheme he had hatched and then to insure that Horatio would not refuse, he´d brought his sister into the fray. After that, there had been no way he could decline, not without giving offense or causing embarrassment to both Archie and himself. All in all it was a masterful plan, executed with aplomb.

He looked at Archie dozing on the banquette across from him, his hat tipped over his eyes. He probably should have been annoyed at how easily he´d been manipulated. Archie, he well knew, could be quite devious when he set his mind to it and it was a bit disconcerting to realize that Archie knew him so well and could maneuver him so effortlessly.

Horatio´s expression softened. Although his methods might have been dubious, Archie´s intentions were sterling and it would be churlish of him to be in a temper because he´d been outwitted by his friend who had only had his best interests at heart. Horatio smiled wistfully. He was lucky to have Archie as a friend, even if he was a sneaky bastard from time to time.

With that thought, Horatio burrowed more deeply into the folds of his coat and following Archie´s example, allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

Horatio slid from the carriage to stand beside Archie on the uneven cobblestones. The townhouse before them was tasteful and understated like all the others that that lined the square. Horatio had expected something far grander--this was, after all, the home of a marquis—but the brick façade and the colonnaded porch were almost severe in their simplicity and he could see nothing that would distinguish it from the home of a successful merchant.

Archie gave him a quick nudge in the ribs. “Well, c´mon then," he directed as he lead them up the pristine steps to the door. Archie straightened his shoulders and gave his cuffs a quick tug before he knocked upon the door. Moments later, it was opened by a man of late middle years dressed discreetly in black. Archie raised his chin and gave the man what Horatio could only describe as a haughty look.

“Be so good as to inform Lady Wixton that Lieutenants Kennedy and Hornblower are here to see her," Archie said, his voice cool and formal. “And have someone see to our baggage if you please."

The man bowed. “Very good, sir. If you´ll follow me, her ladyship is waiting for you in the blue saloon."

Archie gave a crisp nod and followed the man, the heels of his shoes clicking sharply on the marble tiled floor.

Horatio stood gaping for a moment, bewildered by the sudden and unexpected transformation in his friend. He knew, of course, that Archie was of aristocratic blood, that his father was a viscount and that his brother Reginald was his heir. He knew, too, that Archie´s sister Caroline was considered to have contracted an exceedingly handsome match when she had married the Marquis of Wixton, though he had still been the Viscount of Bedford at that time. But it was strange to see Archie in this environment and he felt a moment of disorientation as he tried to reconcile this coolly refined personage with the shipmate he knew so well, the very shipmate who drank ale in disreputable portside taverns and sang bawdy songs and told shockingly ribald stories. The same shipmate who efficiently carried out his duties and stood watch in the pouring rain without ever voicing a word of complaint. And then Archie turned to look at him with a wink and a sly little smile and suddenly the world righted itself and it was his Archie, the clever, good natured imp, the loyal and generous friend staring back at him fondly.

Horatio hastened to catch up; he did not wish to be left behind.

Horatio revised his initial impression of Bedford House as the butler led them through the foyer towards the sitting room where Archie´s sister awaited them. Its interior was every bit as elegant as its exterior was unassuming, but without falling into ostentation. More striking, however, was the flurry of activity that surrounded them. Servants were dashing about, darting in and out of rooms as they passed. Horatio saw a footman polishing the staircase banister and another the chandelier, while a pair of maids walked past laden with linens. It reminded Horatio a bit of the busy streets of Portsmouth on market day. Or the Indy as she readied for action. Oddly enough, the familiarity of the bustle put Horatio at ease.

The butler showed them into a well appointed room where a slender woman in dark green stood giving orders to a pair of servants, her back facing towards the door.

“Your Ladyship, your guests have arrived," the butler announced.

Lady Wixton dismissed the servants who both dropped a respectful curtsey before departing then turned towards her guest. Even without the introduction, Horatio would have known her to be Archie´s sister on sight. Archie had often said that the two of them were like peas in a pod, but the resemblance was indeed uncanny. The same reddish-gold hair, the same wide spaced blue eyes, the same delicate mouth which seemed naturally inclined to twitch upwards of its own accord into an almost feline smile. There were differences, of course. The marchioness was small and slender with no hint of the stockiness that marked her brother´s build and her skin was far paler and less golden than Archie´s, but these were minor things. In all that mattered, Horatio knew they were alike. For the first time since he had agreed to come, Horatio was glad that he´d done so.

Lady Wixton smiled demurely and extended her hand. Archie walked towards her, his pace stately, and Horatio followed a step behind. He took his sister´s hand and raised it to his lips.

“Your Ladyship," he greeted gravely then kissed her hand.

“Lieutenant."

From where he stood Horatio could see Archie´s uncharacteristic gravity give way, his lips curling into a small smile, a familiar, mischievous glint in his eye. It sparked an answering smile from his sister and she pulled her brother into an embrace.

“Archie," she murmured against his neck before she drew back enough to give him a peck on the cheek. “You look well, dear brother."

“As do you, dear sister." Archie pulled away, though he kept one of her hands wrapped in his own. “Caroline, may I present Lieutenant Horatio Hornblower of His Majesty´s frigate Indefatigable. Horatio, my sister, the Marchioness of Wixton."

It was now Horatio´s turn to offer his obeisance though he still felt gawky and graceless doing so, all the more so next to Archie who pulled it off so effortlessly. But then Archie had years of practice and he did not.

Taking the hand extended towards him, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Your Ladyship," he murmured. When he looked up, she was smiling at him, a warm, unaffected smile so much like Archie´s that he could not help but smile shyly in return.

“Lieutenant Hornblower, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. I feel almost as if I know you from Archie´s somewhat…erratic…correspondence."

She cast a sidelong look at Archie who ducked his head at the well aimed rebuke. Horatio stepped in to save his friend from further chastisement.

“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you, my lady. And I thank you for having me here as your guest."

The marchioness flicked her gaze to her brother her pursed lips and eyes speaking the reproach she would not give voice before she relented. Her smile encompassed them both. “I am pleased to have you here, both of you," she added and Horatio could feel the warmth of her smile upon him. “I haven´t seen Archie for the holidays since before he joined the service."

“That is the way of the service, Caroline, especially now that we are at war."

“I know," she replied with a sigh. “But that does not mean that I do not miss my rascal of a brother."

Back in hi sister´s good graces, Archie smiled again and gave his sister´s hand a brief squeeze. “I miss you as well, though you tease me mercilessly."

The marchioness gave a short, bright laugh. “You would not know what to do with yourself if I did not."

Now it was Archie´s turn to laugh. “True enough."

A discreet knock at the door made them turn. A maid entered carrying a tea service which she placed on the nearby table. The marchioness dismissed her and the girl curtsied and departed with alacrity.

“I thought you gentlemen might like a bit of refreshment after your long journey."

“Thank you, my lady," Horatio said with a bob of his head. “That is most kind."

The marchioness guided them over to where the tea service had been set. She sat down on the low sofa, tugging Archie down to sit next to her. Horatio settled in the chair beside her. “I hope your journey was not too unpleasant," she said as she began to pour the tea. “The weather has been positively beastly the last few days."

Horatio took the cup she handed him with a gracious smile. “Not at all. We are quite accustomed to all sorts of weather in the navy. It is not nearly so bad when one is seated comfortably inside a coach." Horatio decided to make no mention of the drafty compartment, nor the queasiness of his stomach throughout the journey. One did not speak of such things to a lady.

“I suppose you would have to be," she replied thoughtfully as she handed Archie his cup and poured one for herself. “We hear only of the great battles here at home. It is so easy to forget the day to day hardships and deprivations you must endure."

Unsure how to respond to that, Horatio sipped his tea and let his eyes drift about the room. Despite the gloom outside, the room was surprisingly airy and inviting. The furniture was comfortable as well, in contrast to some of the opulent contraptions he had experienced in the past.

“You have a lovely home," he said at last. The marchioness´ eyes lit up.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Hornblower. Bedford House is not as grand—or as stuffy—as some, but it has its charms."

Horatio nodded before another thought occurred to him. “Is there some event taking place? I could not help but notice the servants´ activity."

“Oh, yes. Tomorrow is the Christmas Ball. Surely Archie mentioned it to you?" Something of his dismay at that announcement must have shown on his face for the marchioness turned an accusing look on Archie. “Archie!"

Horatio looked at him as well. Archie at least had the grace to look sheepish, though his embarrassment was not long lived. “I must have forgotten," he said, his unrepentant self once more.

“I can´t see how. There has always been a ball at Bedford House on Christmas eve."

Archie shrugged. “Well, I´ve never had the opportunity to attend one before. Besides, I´ve been terribly busy of late. Ship´s business, you know," he added smoothly.

The marchioness sent him a coolly suspicious look, the effect of which was undermined by the smile that was threatening to break to the surface.

Archie shot him an apologetic look and Horatio stamped down on his discomfort. Archie was his friend, he reminded himself firmly. He would endure this for his sake.

The marchioness did not appear willing to let Archie´s lapse pass so easily, however. “I apologize, Lieutenant Hornblower. My brother is quite a scamp and the holidays seem to bring out his worst impulses. I remember the Christmas when he was but five years old…"

“Caroline!" Archie interrupted, his cheeks going pink with embarrassment. “I´m sure Horatio wouldn´t be interested in hearing such tales."

Apparently, Horatio wasn´t as willing to pardon Archie as he had thought. He leaned forward and smiled at his hostess. “On the contrary, I would be most interested in hearing any tales you might wish to share, your ladyship."

The marchioness smiled approvingly at Horatio and he was certain he caught a flash of mischief in her blue eyes. Very like her brother, indeed. “Well, as you probably know, Archie has a bit of a sweet tooth and when he was five he somehow managed to get into the plum pudding. Cook found him on Christmas morning curled up in the pantry with the empty bowl next to him, his face covered in pudding. He´d eaten the entire thing, though where he had managed to put it, no one knew. Cook was quite put out."

“I can imagine," Horatio replied, endeavoring to keep a straight face, but failing utterly.

Archie glowered at him. “Go ahead and laugh, Horatio, but it wasn´t funny at the time. I was sick as a dog all day."

“And whose fault was that, pray tell?" the marchioness shot back, clearly amused. Archie continued to glare at them both before he shook his head and started laughing.

The laughed and drank their tea while the marchioness regaled Horatio with a few additional tales of her brother´s childhood follies. Archie endured it with surprisingly good grace. The occasional imprecation was muttered more in humor than malice and generally lost amidst his own self-deprecating laughter. Too soon, however, the butler returned to call his mistress away on some matter pertaining to the household. The marchioness excused herself and followed the butler from the room, her cashmere shawl draped quickly across her shoulders.

Archie took another sip of tea and regarded Horatio over the rim of his cup. “You´re not angry that I didn´t mention Caroline´s ball, are you?"

Horatio shook his head. “Of course not, though I would have appreciated a little advance warning."

“The key to strategy is in knowing when to act and what to reveal," Archie quoted

Horatio gave a snort of laughter. “Somehow, I don´t think this is quite what Captain Pellew had in mind when he said that."

Archie shrugged then put his cup down on the table. “That hardly matters. Sound tactics should be applicable to any and all situations." He rose and came to stand beside Horatio. Horatio looked up as Archie rested his hand upon his shoulder and gave it a quick, reassuring squeeze. “It won´t be so bad, Horatio. I promise. In fact, you might even enjoy yourself."

He squeezed Horatio´s shoulder again then removed his hand. Horatio missed its warm, gentle pressure at once. “C´mon, let me show you about a little."

The tour proved to be an abbreviated one as they were constantly having to duck out of the way of bustling servants set upon carrying out their assigned tasks. In the end, they sought refuge in the relative quiet of the marquis´ library, the one room left undisturbed by the whirlwind of preparations that had taken hold of the house. For his part, Horatio was perfectly content. The marquis had an exceptional library, particularly in regards to the classics. Archie had mentioned that his brother-in-law had a passion for art and for antiquities and it was evident from the books that lined his shelves that his passion extended beyond simple acquisition. Horatio spent a fair amount of time perusing the shelves before selecting a volume on the campaigns of Julius Caesar with which to entertain himself.

Engrossed in his reading, Horatio had not remarked upon the new arrival until his boisterous greeting shattered the quiet of the library.

“Kennedy! There you are, old chap! Caroline said you were somewhere about!"

Horatio looked up to see a man who could only be the Marquis of Wixton, bound over to where Archie was seated. The man was older than Horatio had expected, an impression that was reinforced by his prematurely retreating hairline and tendency towards portliness. His movements were vigorous, however, and though not precisely a handsome man, when he smiled his face lit up like a signal lantern.

Archie rose at once and extended his hand. “Wixton! It´s good to see you!"

Wixton shook Archie´s hand energetically. “The same, the same. Caroline was beside herself with joy when she got your letter. It´s been years, old chap."

Archie nodded, his expression faintly apologetic. “It has been, but I´m afraid there´s nothing to be done for it. We go where duty bids us."

Wixton nodded. “Quite so, quite so. Staying out from underfoot, I see."  At Archie´s nod he gave a small laugh. “I usually stay as far away as I can when they´re tearing the house apart like this. Would have dined at my club tonight, just to escape, but Caroline said you´d be here for supper, so…"

He turned then and caught sight of Horatio. A bright smile stretched across his broad, pleasant face. “Ah, you must be Kennedy´s friend," he said as he walked towards Horatio.

“Lieutenant Horatio Hornblower at your service, my lord," he greeted with a nod

“Bah!" he replied extending his hand towards Horatio. “None of this ‘my lord´ business. We´re amongst family here. You must call me Wixton," he added, shaking Horatio´s hand heartily.

“Wixton," Horatio said trying the name out upon his tongue. It felt comfortable there. “Thank you for extending your hospitality…"

“Our pleasure, Hornblower," he replied in an almost offhand manner. “Any friend of Kennedy´s and all that." His gaze dropped to the table where Horatio had set aside the book he´d been reading. “I say, Hornblower, are you interested in antiquities?"

“I suppose so…"

Wixton´s smile grew even brighter. “I just purchased a folio of engravings showing the paintings they found at Pompeii. Beautiful things, really. Would you care to see it?"

“Of course."

Wixton immediately set about extracting the folio in question. Horatio caught Archie´s gaze across the other man´s back. Archie rolled his eyes but smiled as he did so. He had warned Horatio about Wixton´s enthusiasms which he´d endured on previous visits. Horatio decided that it was only fair to do likewise. After all, it was a small price to pay for the man´s hospitality.

In the end, it was far from a hardship. Wixton´s assessment of the folio was accurate, his knowledge extensive and his enthusiasm catching. When the butler called them to supper, Horatio was almost sorry to depart. He looked over at Archie just in time to see him stifling a yawn behind his hand. Archie shrugged, then rose to follow.

Archie´s sister smiled as they entered the dining room.

“We´re dining en famille tonight, Mr. Hornblower. I hope you don´t mind."

“Not at all, your ladyship. I´m sure it will be wonderful."

And indeed it was. While the meal itself was no doubt modest compared to many that had graced the marquis´ table, it was far better than naval fare could ever hope to be. The oyster soup was flavorful, the root vegetables savory, the chicken roasted to perfection. Even the tart of quinces and apples that served as the dessert seemed a culinary achievement to Horatio´s unschooled palate.

But it was the company that made the meal so pleasant. As the marchioness had indicated it was just the four of them at the table. He didn´t know if it was by coincidence or by intent—surely the marchioness was aware of Horatio´s discomfort in society, both from her brother´s correspondence and from her own observations—but the relative informality of the evening set Horatio at ease.

Much of the evening was spent in casual conversation, trading minor gossip and, of course, recent news related to the various members of the Kennedy clan, their friends and acquaintances. Although Archie could be a somewhat erratic correspondent, in truth the mail was both slow and unreliable at sea, so the marchioness had quite a bit to share with her brother. Not having anything to add, Horatio was content to sit back and watch the byplay between Archie and his sister, with the occasional interjection from the marquis. Mostly, however, Horatio watched Archie.

The news that their sister was expecting a child—her second—in the spring, was met with genuine delight, though when the marchioness mentioned that their brother Robert had been sent to Flanders along with his regiment, Horatio could not have failed to see the brief moue of displeasure that crossed Archie´s face to vanish just as quickly. There was no love lost between the two youngest Kennedy sons, that much was clear.

“By the by, Archie," the marchioness said as the footmen began to clear the table, “you probably haven´t heard as yet, but Annie Dunlop is betrothed."

Archie looked up from his wine glass, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Really?"

She nodded. “A man by the name of Prestwick. He´s a cloth merchant in Edinburgh and by all accounts a prosperous one."

Horatio´s gaze flickered between the two siblings. The marchioness appeared amused, Archie abashed. “Who is Annie Dunlop?" he asked, his curiosity increasing as he watched the blush that made its way across Archie´s cheeks.

Archie opened his mouth, but it was his sister who spoke first. “Annie was Archie´s first sweetheart."

“She was not," Archie protested. “Well, not precisely. We never courted or any such."

“But…" Horatio prodded, knowing there was more to the story. He was rewarded by the sight of Archie´s cheeks going even pinker.

Archie shrugged attempting to look nonchalant. “If you must know, Annie gave me my first kiss."

“Really?"

Archie nodded. “We were both ten years old at the time. She had lost her hair ribbon and I returned it to her and when I did she kissed me in gratitude."

Horatio smiled. He could well imagine a much younger Archie doing such a thing.

“Unfortunately," the marchioness chimed in, her voice light with amusement, “her father caught them at it. He dragged Archie home by the ear and both father and Archie received a bit of tongue lashing that day."

“It all seems rather harmless," Horatio said, perplexed.

“Of course it was," she replied, “but alas, Annie was the curate´s daughter and our brother Robert was already developing something of a reputation as a rake."

“Precocious as always, our Robert," Archie muttered.

The marchioness shot her brother a wry look. “As you can imagine, Mr. Dunlop wasn´t about to risk the reputation of his only daughter by letting her run about with one of those Kennedy boys, so the budding romance came to a tragic end."

Archie gave his sister a withering look then gazed rather mournfully in Horatio´s direction. “As you can see, Horatio, Caroline derives considerable amusement from my misfortunes. In actuality, Annie and I were simply friends and I am well pleased that she is to be married."

Archie´s sister laughed and Archie soon joined in. It was lovely seeing Archie like this, happy and at ease, his smiles coming freely. It was a sight of which Horatio never tired.

The conversation continued to roll along. Despite his enjoyment, Horatio found his eyes growing heavier as the strain and exhaustion of the past few days began to extract their toll. He tried to stay alert, to hide any signs of his weariness, but when the marchioness caught him stifling a yawn, he knew it was to no avail.

“My apologies, Mr. Hornblower," she said with a sympathetic smile. “You must be exhausted after the long journey. We should not have kept you up so long."

Horatio cleared his throat, willing away the blush that threatened to stain his cheeks. “Not at all, your ladyship. I am sorry to have been so inattentive."

She gave him a level look and Horatio found he could not quite meet her eye. It was Archie who salvaged the moment. “Horatio is more stalwart than I, Caroline, for I confess I find myself completely fagged out. I shall take my leave of you, if I may."

When Archie rose, so did the other men. Caroline smiled up at her brother and extended her hand towards him. He circled the table and came to her side, taking her hand in his before he leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

“Goodnight, dear sister."

“Goodnight, dear brother."

“Are you coming, Horatio?"

Horatio nodded. “Yes, of course. Goodnight, my lady, Wixton," he said with a short bow before following Archie from the table and up the stairs to their respective rooms.

They stopped before the door to Horatio´s room. “Goodnight, Horatio. Pleasant dreams," Archie said smiling at him.

“And to you," Horatio replied.

Horatio watched as Archie vanished into his own room. He remained there staring at the space where Archie had been before collecting his wits. With a sigh, he opened his door and retired for the night.

Horatio made his way to the breakfast room, careful to steer clear of the servants who were scurrying about making the final preparations for the ball that evening. He wasn´t surprised to find that Archie was the room´s only occupant.

“Good morning, Horatio," he greeted warmly between bites of a cream covered scone. “Did you sleep well?"

“Yes, thank you," he replied as he peeked inside the various chafing dishes arrayed on the sideboard, surprised at how hungry he was. He began to fill his plate. “And yourself?"

“Like a babe in his mother´s arms." Archie wore an almost rapturous expression, though whether it was from memories of a night´s pleasant rest, or from the scone he was currently consuming with obvious gusto, Horatio couldn´t tell. Archie licked a bit of errant cream from his lips and then proceeded to select another pastry.

“I´m afraid it is just us, this morning," he said as Horatio seated himself beside Archie. “Caroline rose with the dawn to oversee the remaining preparations. She won´t leave it to anyone else."

“And the marquis?" Horatio asked as he began to tuck into the small mound of eggs on his plate.

Archie shook his head smiling. “Wixton popped down for a quick bite and then fled as if chased by the very demons of hell. We won´t be seeing him again until evening, I dare say. Coffee?"

Archie held up the coffee pot, his brow raised in query. “Yes, please."

Archie poured a cup of coffee for Horatio and then refilled his own. “I think my brother-in-law has the right idea. What do you say to a long walk after breakfast?"

Horatio nodded. “I think that´s a fine idea. I get the impression we´d simply be in the way if we stayed here."

In truth, Horatio was relieved by the suggestion. Although the bustle did not bother Horatio, his own inactivity did. His offers of assistance the previous evening had been waved away by their hostess with assurances that they had matters well in hand. Perhaps it was just as well. While Horatio knew how to clear a deck for action, the logistics in this case were well beyond his ken.

They tarried a bit over coffee. It was one of the few luxuries Horatio permitted himself to enjoy unequivocally and Archie was always happy to encourage his indulgence, refilling his cup several times without even needing to ask. Well fortified, they left Bedford House.

It was a gray, blustery day and they hunched into their coats as the cold winds buffeted them and slid icy fingers beneath the heavy folds to prickle at their skin. At least the rain had tapered off during the night so they didn´t have to endure the miserable damp as well. Still, it was a pleasure to be out and about. There was a decidedly festive air abroad. They could see it in houses along the square decked with wreathes and sweet smelling garlands decorated with bright red holly berries and in the crowds swirling about the adjoining streets.

Archie told him a bit of the history of Hanover Square, showing him Roxburghe House where the Duke of Roxburghe held residence and the nearby assembly room where such luminaries as Bach and Haydn had once performed, before leading him expertly through the nearby streets. They walked down Bruton Street, past the shop of James Senior, the Haberdasher and John Sharp, the Chemist. Archie showed him the shop of John Gregson, watchmaker to the Prince of Wales and they tarried a bit outside the confectionary shop of L. Wetten & Son to marvel at the lavish displays of sweets in the window. Other shops followed: Francis Carbery, the feather maker, Topham Davies, the hatter on Conduit Street; G. Buntlebart, the maker of piano-fortes and W. Fowler, the dentist to the Duke of York on Prince´s Street. Archie strode along these streets at his ease, as familiar with them as he was with those of Portsmouth.

He continued to indicate points of interest as they went. Some, such as Burlington House, were quite impressive; others such as the spot upon which the Earl of Leister reputedly challenged his wife´s lover to a duel were a bit more…particular. But Archie was in his element. He chattered on, cheeks and nose pink from the cold, eyes bright with mirth as his hands flew about animatedly.  Horatio found himself pulled along, smiling in spite of himself at Archie´s outrageous but highly entertaining monologue.

So caught up was he that Horatio barely noticed the cold until he realized his fingers had gone numb in spite of his heavy woolen gloves. Consequently, their return to Bedford House elicited a curious mixture of relief and regret, and as he followed Archie up the stairs towards their rooms, he found himself missing the warmth of Archie´s companionship far more than he craved the warmth of shelter and hearth.

Horatio´s hand tightened about the glass of punch he was holding as he tried not to wince at the music filling the room. He had expected the evening to be a trial, and thus far, his prediction was holding painfully true.

He took another sip of rum punch. It was a bit like grog, though not quite as strong and a good bit sweeter with a pleasant aftertaste of oranges and cloves. A touch of familiarity in an unfamiliar world.

His eyes scanned the room. It was awash with people, a sign, he knew, of the party´s success. The center of the room had been cleared for dancing and many couples took advantage of the opportunity despite the crush. He watched as they glided by, elegant gentlemen and ladies dressed in brightly colored silks as if to outshine the candles that illuminated the room around them. Finally, he caught sight of Archie where he partnered a lovely young woman across the floor. Archie had been pressed into service by some distant cousin not long after their arrival and he´d been occupied ever since, squiring one pretty girl after another around the room. Archie didn´t seem to mind. In fact, he appeared to be enjoying himself immensely, smiling and laughing as he led his current partner through a series of steps that seemed excessively complex to Horatio´s eyes. The girl tilted her head back and laughed, her dark ringlets bouncing as Archie twirled her around and around.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Lieutenant Hornblower?"

Startled, Horatio´s hand tightened convulsively on the half empty glass of punch, making the liquid slosh a bit with the sudden motion. He turned to see Archie´s sister smiling up at him in amusement though there was a hint of what seemed like fondness there as well. He nodded a bit stiffly in response.

“Yes, your ladyship."

“You aren´t dancing?"

“I´m afraid I don´t dance."

The marchioness´ expression turned mischievous. “Really? I believe there are any number of ladies present who would be delighted to teach you." With a smile and a tilt of her head, she directed Horatio´s gaze across the room where three young women clustered together, watching them avidly. When Horatio caught their gazes, they ducked their heads behind fans that began to flutter like hummingbird wings, their eyes sparkling over the delicate, lace trimmed edges.

Horatio cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders a bit. “It´s not that…I…it´s just that I´m tone deaf," he confessed.

Amusement gave way to consternation at once. “Oh dear. I had no idea. This must be quite unpleasant."

“No, not at all," Horatio hastened to reassure her though to little effect.

“Oh dear," she said again. “Archie never mentioned…"

Horatio shook his head. “He wouldn´t have," he replied quickly, not wanting any blame to fall upon Archie. “I´m…well, it´s a bit embarrassing. It´s not something one talks about."

The marchioness sighed softly. “No wonder you were so put out by the notion of a Christmas ball. I had assumed it was simply because you were reserved. I do apologize."

“Please don´t. I am happy to be here, truly." Horatio gave her a small smile. “Had I known, I still would have come."

She nodded, though her expression remained somewhat troubled. An uncomfortable silence fell across them and both sets of eyes turned towards the couples twirling blithely before them. Once again, Horatio´s eyes settled upon Archie who, catching his gaze, flashed him a smile in passing. Horatio watched him as he continued on his path until his body was blocked from view by those of the other dancers. Feeling eyes upon him, he looked down to see Archie´s sister gazing up at him once more, her expression unexpectedly grave.

“Archie told me that your father passed away recently. You have my condolences."

The words of sympathy took him unawares though he knew he should have expected them. He felt the familiar tightening in his chest and he drew his armor more closely around him, knowing it was too late, that her kindness had slipped beneath his defenses. It seemed that was another trait she shared with her brother. Archie had that knack as well, damn him.

“Thank you," he replied, his voice sounding flat to his own ears.

“You have no other relations?"

“No."

“I can only imagine how difficult that must be. I know that I am most fortunate; our family has suffered so few losses by comparison. And even when we thought we had lost Archie…" he voice trailed off. She shook her head. “Well, we have him back now. That is what matters."

“Yes," Horatio replied, his eyes drifting back to Archie once again before he was brought up short by the touch of the marchioness´ hand upon his forearm, her eyes fixed upon him.

“I want to thank you for returning Archie to us, Mr. Hornblower."

Horatio was flustered by her words, her touch, but most of all by her sudden intensity. “Archie would have made his way back from prison," he assured her, ignoring the niggling doubts as to the veracity of his words.

“That isn´t what I´m talking about, not entirely."

Horatio shot her a bemused look. She was gazing ahead of her and when Horatio followed her line of sight, he realized that she was watching Archie as well. She drew a deep breath. “The last time I saw Archie…" she paused, hesitant. “He…he wasn´t himself. He was so changed. I know that war is a terrible thing and that it leaves marks upon a man´s soul, but I never expected…" she shook her head again.

“But now…" she smiled up at Horatio. “Archie has come back to himself. He´s come back to us. And though he has never said it in so many words, I know that you are largely responsible for it."

“Your ladyship…" he interrupted, feeling his cheeks beginning to warm in embarrassment.

“You´ve been a good friend to my brother, Mr. Hornblower, of that I am certain. Please know that you will always be welcome here."

“My lady…" he began again, his tongue suddenly thick and clumsy. He wished he had a gift for words, but that was Archie´s forte, not his own and he found himself at a loss. She was looking at him again, sincerity writ large upon her features. Horatio knew that look well and any attempt at denial shriveled beneath that earnest, determined blue gaze. “Thank you," he replied with equal sincerity, embarrassed by the sudden swell of emotion in his breast. He had borne his grief with the dignity and forbearance expected of an officer only to be unmanned by kindness.

Perhaps the marchioness had recognized how unexpectedly fragile he had become in that moment; Archie had always been uncannily perceptive in that way. She gave his arm a fond pat than drew herself up to her full, albeit diminutive, height.

“Well, Mr. Hornblower," she began in a conversational tone. “If you are not fond of music, perhaps we can find another more pleasant diversion to entertain you."

Horatio smiled at her, grateful for the change of topic. “What would you propose, your ladyship?"

The marchioness seemed to mull over the question before she turned an oddly calculating glance in Horatio´s direction. “Tell me, Mr. Hornblower, you play cards, do you not?"

“I play whist on occasion," he replied a bit warily.

The marchioness smiled beatifically at him as she threaded her arm through his. “Perfect. The Viscount of Dorchester has been boasting for days about his skill at cards. I believe a set down is in order and you, dear sir, are the perfect person to provide it."

Unable to think of a response to that, Horatio smiled, nodded his head and let Archie´s sister lead him out of the ballroom.

The Viscount of Dorchester rose from the table and bowed stiffly to its remaining occupants. “Thank you for an agreeable evening, gentlemen," he said in a tone that left no doubt as to how disagreeable the evening had, in fact, been. “Wixton," he said with a curt nod to his host. He turned sharply on his heel, but not before casting a final annoyed glance in Horatio´s direction as he stalked away.

Horatio gazed down at the not inconsequential pile of coins stacked before him. He felt a vague pang of guilt that he had been winning so freely while a guest in the marquis´ house, though the viscount had been such an insufferable arse that Horatio had found it increasingly difficult *not* to show the man up. Any lingering guilt evaporated when he looked over at his host who was trying to smother his laughter to little effect.

“By God, that was well done, Hornblower! Well done, indeed.! That buffoon has been preening like a fighting cock over his alleged skill at cards. It´s about time someone…what is it you naval chaps say?...took him down a peg? Yes, that´s it! It was worth a few coins to see him receive the set down he so richly deserves."

Horatio wavered between relief and remorse. “He did lose a good deal…"

Wixton waved his hand dismissively. “Don´t worry about Dorchester, old chap. He´s fairly swimming in it. Besides, you´ll probably put it to better use than he would."

Horatio couldn´t entirely argue that point so he discreetly swept the coins from the table and slipped them into his pocket. When he rose from the table, he could hear them jingle softly.

“Come along," Wixton said throwing a companionable arm across Horatio´s shoulders, “we´ll open a bottle of my best claret to toast the event!"

Wixton led him away from the card tables and back towards the foyer.

“Horatio! There you are!"

Horatio turned to see Archie striding towards him, cheeks flushed from dancing, his face split with a broad grin.

“I´ve been looking for you everywhere! I apologize for abandoning you for so long."

“I´ve been at the card tables," Horatio replied.

“Ah." Archie infused that single syllable with a world of meaning. “How did you fare?"

“Moderately well."

Archie chuckled, not fooled in the slightest by his show of modesty.

“He trounced old Dorchester!" Wixton crowed, his delight in the feat not as yet having subsided.

“Really?" Archie drawled. “Well, it couldn´t have happened to a more deserving popinjay!"

“Quite so, quite so!" Wixton laughed again. “I was going to open some of my claret to celebrate. Care to join us, Kennedy?"

Kennedy gave Horatio a quick, questioning glance. At Horatio´s nod, Archie smiled at his brother-in-law. “It would be my pleasure."

They retreated to the haven of Wixton´s library and Horatio sank gratefully into an armchair near the hearth. After the noise of the gaming room and the uncomfortable wailing of the music in the ballroom, the relative quiet of the library was like a balm and he settled more deeply into his chair. He let his eyes close for a moment and simply breathed.

An elbow jostled his arm and he looked up at Archie who smiled down fondly at him as he handed him a glass of claret. Archie perched himself on the arm of Horatio´s chair and sipped demurely at his own glass.

They chatted a bit of inconsequential things and eventually Wixton began to regale them with an account of the recent discoveries at Pompeii. By unspoken mutual agreement, Horatio and Archie let the man burble happily on, his enthusiasm most engaging. Archie occasionally shot Horatio a wry glance, but he was clearly more amused than vexed, content to let his brother-in-law chatter on.

A discreet knock on the door, interrupted their seclusion. The butler opened the door and bowed to the marquis.

“Your lordship, Lady Wixton requests your presence in the foyer."

“Dashed, I´ve been caught out," Wixton said as he heaved himself from his seat. “I suppose I should go and play the gracious host for a bit. Stay if you like," he instructed them “It would be a shame to waste a good bottle of claret, eh?" He gave them a nod and headed back to the party, closing the door behind him.

“I suppose we should return to the party," Horatio essayed.

Archie swirled his wine slowly around his glass. “Yes, I suppose we should."

Neither one rose from his seat.

They lingered for a time, sipping their claret and enjoying one another´s company. Such a simple thing, really, but Horatio was more grateful for it than he could say. He had not been dishonest when he told Archie´s sister that he was glad he had come, despite having to endure that uncomfortable racket. Sitting here with Archie now, made it worthwhile.

Once the claret was gone, so was their excuse for hanging back. “I suppose we should return to the party," Archie said, his tone heavy with regret. “Caroline will kill me if she finds me skulking in the library."

Horatio nodded and rose. He no more wished to return to the crush than Archie apparently did, but he did not wish to be a poor guest, so he would return as well. Steeling himself, he followed Archie from the library.

He needn´t have bothered. By this time, the party was winding itself down. The hour had grown late and a large number of guests had already taken their leave. Archie´s sister and her husband were stationed in the foyer, bidding their guests farewell, wishes of ‘Happy Christmas´ being tendered and received. Still, it was some time before the last guest departed and Horatio could take leave of his hosts as well.

“It was a lovely party," Horatio said in complete sincerity. “Thank you for your invitation."

Much to his surprise, the marchioness rose up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. Horatio could feel the blush rising on his skin.

“Happy Christmas, Mr. Hornblower," she said, smiling up at him fondly.

“Thank you, my lady. And the same to you. And you, sir," he added nodding in the direction of the marquis.

The marquis shook his hand. “And to you, Mr. Hornblower."

Horatio stepped aside to allow Archie to say his goodnights as well. He shook Wixton´s hand and then gave his sister a hug. Horatio could see the marchioness´ arms wrap tightly around her brother as she pulled him in to a fierce embrace and Archie´s head rested against her neck. Horatio turned away, allowing them a modicum of privacy. When he glanced over again, Archie was pulling away with a quick kiss pressed to his sister´s cheek.

“Good night to you both," she bade them. Archie clapped a hand upon Horatio´s shoulder and with that gesture and a warm smile, he led Horatio up the darkened stairs towards their rooms.

A faint knock on the door made Horatio sit up in his bed. “Yes?"

The door opened and Horatio was not entirely surprised to see Archie hovering on the threshold, hair unbound, clad only in his nightshirt. “May I come in?"

“Of course."

Archie walked over to the bed, and Horatio could see him wince slightly as his bare feet made contact with the cold floor. Horatio hadn´t bothered to stoke the fire before retiring, preferring instead to simply burrow beneath the soft, warm blankets and pull them around his body like a cocoon. But now that he was sitting up, he could feel the chill seeping through the think linen nightshirt, raising gooseflesh.

“It´s freezing, Archie. Get under the covers before you catch your death," Horatio instructed, raising the blankets in invitation. Archie slipped in to the bed, sighing softly as he snuggled into the warmth

“I brought you your present. It is Christmas, after all," Archie explained with a casual shrug, though he looked inexplicably embarrassed. “Happy Christmas, Horatio."

Horatio turned the small, neatly wrapped package over in his hands before he opened it with an excess of care that always made Archie huff with impatience. He pushed the paper aside and drew in a startled gasp when he saw the pair of very fine silver shoe buckles nestled inside.

He looked over at Archie who watched him with a small smile. “Archie! This is far too extravagant!"

“Nonsense. It´s ridiculous that an up and coming officer such as yourself is still wearing pinchbeck on his shoes. It´s one thing for a newly commissioned officer to do so, but now?" He shook his head mournfully. “You deserve far better. And knowing how practical you are, I knew you would not indulge in such a luxury for yourself, so I had no choice but to do it for you," he added with no small amount of smugness.

“Archie…"

Archie raised a hand, halting Horatio´s protest quite effectively. “I wanted to do this. Besides," he said, his expression turning strangely wistful, “this way, I shall always be with you wherever you go."

Horatio frowned. “Of course you will. You´re to be my flag, remember?"

They both smiled fondly at the childish conceit and the pact that they´d made so many years before.

"You´re going to make post by thirty. Mark my words, Horatio!" Archie had announced waving his tankard for emphasis, making a bit of the ale slosh over the edge.

Horatio clinked his tankard against Archie´s “We´ll always be together, Archie."

Archie chuckled, then sobered. “I can think of no greater honor than to serve as your flag, Horatio. But until then, wear these as a remembrance." Archie reached over and gently folded Horatio´s hand around the buckles, letting his hand rest atop Horatio´s.

Horatio felt a strange tightness in his chest as he gazed down at their hands. When he gazed back up at Archie´s face, his heart constricted a little more. “Thank you, Archie. It would be an honor."

Archie beamed at him and Horatio found himself smiling thoughtlessly in response. “Wait! I have your present as well!"

Horatio slipped from the bed and made his way as quickly as possible to his dunnage--damn, but the floor was cold!—and practically dove back under the covers.

“Here," he said, handing his own gift to Archie, suddenly nervous. “Happy Christmas!"

Archie tore at the wrapping, as impatient as a schoolboy promised a treat. In moments he was gazing reverently at his gift.

“Horatio," he said, turning the slim volume over in his hands with the greatest of care. He looked up at Horatio, his expression filled with wonder. “This much have cost you a pretty penny."

Horatio shrugged. It had indeed, though he´d never say as much. He had winced when the bookseller had quoted him the price. It seemed like a great deal of money for such a slim volume of poetry. And yet, his eyes had been drawn back to it again and again, and he could not help but admire the fine leather binding, the color of rubies and the ornate gilded pattern stamped into the spine and cover. Even the edges of the pages had been tipped in gold. It was such a fine, lovely thing and there was so little beauty in their day to day lives. Archie deserved to have something like this, something that was beautiful for its own sake, practicality be damned, and so Horatio had bought it. He had still winced as he´d counted out the coins, but oddly enough, he had felt no regret afterwards, knowing that Archie would be pleased by the gift.

“Open it," Horatio encouraged.

Archie did. “Donne´s sonnets!"

“I know how much you like them."

Archie blinked, surprised. “You remembered?"

Horatio shrugged. Apparently it was his turn to be inexplicably embarrassed. “Of course, I did. Why wouldn´t I?"

Archie shook his head then gazed down at the book in his lap, letting his finger trace the simple inscription: From HH to AK. Happy Christmas. 1799. Horatio had tried to think of a better inscription. Something polished, something more…expressive, but nothing had seemed quite right. So in the end, he´d opted for simplicity, confident that Archie would understand. Archie always seemed to glean the meaning beneath his inadequate words. It was a gift for which Horatio had always been grateful.

Archie stared at the inscription a few moments longer. When he looked up at Horatio his expression was solemn and some emotion flashed in his eyes and vanished like quicksilver before Horatio could put a name to it. Archie continued to look at him, eyes snaring Horatio´s with their intensity and Horatio swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. The strange tightness was in his chest again.

Archie closed the book and set it aside, his eyes never leaving Horatio´s face as he did so. With great deliberation, he reached up and cradled Horatio´s cheek in his hand.

“Thank you," he said. The words themselves were simple, almost perfunctory, the kind of acknowledgement that was expected and often given heedlessly. It was not the words, however, that set Horatio´s heart to pounding, but the richer meanings conveyed through the inflection of Archie´s voice, the warmth of his hand where it rested on Horatio´s face, the sudden softness of his eyes. When Archie leaned forward and gently brushed dry lips against Horatio´s, Horatio found that he wasn´t surprised in the least. Some part of him, he realized, had been waiting for it for a very long time.

Horatio licked his lips—a nervous habit of Archie´s rather than one of his own, the logical portion of his brain noted—as Archie pulled back to look at him with serious, thoughtful eyes. His hand still rested on Horatio´s cheek and the heat of it seemed to sear right through him. He could read the unspoken question that hung between them in Archie´s eyes. There was only one answer he could give.

Horatio leaned forward and kissed Archie back.

Kissing Archie was like coming home. It was tentative and awkward at first, so much uncertainty tinged with heart deep yearning, but it quickly turned warm and welcoming as distance receded and solitude faded from memory. He moved closer to Archie and let his arms slide around the other man´s body in a loose embrace that gradually grew closer and tighter as the kiss stretched, gave way to another and another still.

Horatio felt Archie´s arms wrap around him, heat and pressure seeping through his night shirt to warm the skin beneath. His tongue slithered out to trace the curve of Archie´s lips, the place where they met. Archie opened to him at once, inviting Horatio in, offering him tantalizing warmth and the sweet-sour taste of wine. Horatio´s tongue explored Archie´s mouth almost lazily and Archie let him, sighing softly as Horatio went deeper still, as his body pressed flush against his. He could feel Archie´s hand cupping the back of his skull, fingers tangled in his hair as he pulled Horatio closer and demanded more. Horatio obliged him quite happily.

Horatio leaned in still farther, his weight bearing them both to the mattress. He pulled back then to look at Archie who gazed up at him with eyes as soft and dark as twilight, an enigmatic smile upon his lips. Wanting to know the mystery residing there, Horatio leaned down to kiss him again. Archie greeted him with joyful abandon.

“Horatio," he murmured as their lips met.

Horatio let himself sink into the slip and slide of lips and tongue and the strength of Archie´s arms pulling him close and closer still. Horatio shifted his body until he was lying half atop the other man. Their nightshirts were rucked up above their hips and Horatio let his hands glide beneath the covers until they found the hem of Archie´s shirt. He tugged at the thin fabric, bunching it up beneath Archie´s armpits to bare the skin beneath. His hands explored Archie´s body, even as his tongue continued to plumb the depths of his eager mouth. And then there were hands on him as well as Archie tugged insistently at his nightshirt, not stopping until he had wrestled it from Horatio´s body, leaving his unbound hair disarrayed. Archie smiled up at him again, obviously not displeased by the sight.

When he leaned downwards again, Horatio sought another target, his lips moving along the line of Archie´s jaw down to his neck where the blood ran hot. He nuzzled close, feeling Archie´s life pulsing beneath his lips. Curious he nipped the skin, teeth burrowing into soft, yielding flesh. Archie gasped and bucked at the sensation so Horatio did it again, feeling the flesh grow hotter, the blood quickening where pain and pleasure met.

He was hard now and his hips moved forward of their own accord to rub his prick against Archie´s leg. Archie shifted in response and Horatio could feel his matching hardness pressed against his belly. It was an amazing sensation, delicious and terrifying all at once. He rose up on his elbows and slid his body into closer alignment with the one beneath and gasped as his prick made contact with Archie´s. Archie´s laughter, low and rich filled his ear so Horatio kissed him deep until the laughter was replaced by breathless, gasping moans.

Archie wrapped his arms tightly and pulled Horatio close, even as his hips pushed upwards. Horatio rocked downwards in mindless response. They quickly established a rhythm; light and almost teasing at first, it soon gave way to sharper thrusts as they ground their bodies together. Archie´s legs wrapped tightly around his, limiting his movement even as the increasing pressure set every nerve on Horatio´s body alight.

This was like nothing he´d ever experienced before, so dizzying and dazzling in its intensity. The rare coupling with dockside whores—usually carried out at Archie´s encouragement—had been almost clinical. Quick, efficient, adequate to slake the needs of the moment. Horatio had always felt oddly empty in the aftermath, as though he had emptied more than his seed into the distracted body beneath him. And his own furtive efforts at pleasuring himself had been only slightly more satisfying, the movement of his hand upon his burning flesh sharp and awkward as he worked to bring himself off as quickly and quietly as possible. Such self-abuse had always felt more a punishment, a castigation of his unruly flesh rather than an act of satiation.

This, however, was something else entirely. His body sizzled with exquisite pleasure and he thrashed wildly as he struggled against the urge to keen and moan as his urgency grew. His eyes slid closed as another fierce wave of sensation washed over him. When he opened them again, he looked down at Archie, his covetous eyes tracing the curve of his neck rising as Archie´s head tilted back against the pillow. Archie´s own eyes were as wide and blue and endless as a summer sky, his cheeks flushed and damp. Archie´s mouth, already red from kissing, was rounded into a small ‘o´ from which soft, desperate sounds emanated. Horatio could not resist the impulse to lean down and take that tempting, teasing mouth in another feverish kiss, sharing the taste of his own hunger with his dearest friend. Archie moaned, low and deep and bucked up against him and Horatio could only grind sharply downwards as they pushed onwards towards completion.

Archie reached his climax first, his body stiffening, a sound like a broken sob torn from his lips before he slumped boneless against the mattress, his seed spread across their bellies. He gazed up at Horatio through glazed eyes, a tender, doting smile stretched across his lips as he reached up to caress Horatio´s cheek and drag his thumb across Horatio´s own kiss swollen lips as if seeing him anew.

It was the sight of him, sleepy and sated, his face alight with adoration that tipped Horatio over the edge. He buried his face in the crook of Archie´s neck to muffle the cries bubbling up in his throat, feeling sweat slick skin and the damp tousle of fair hair against cheek, tickling at his nose. He pulled in ragged breaths, drawing in the scent of Archie along with air, needing the former in that moment as much as the latter.

Pushing himself up on unsteady arms, he rolled over on his side, closed his eyes and simply breathed. When he had regained a semblance of control, he opened his eyes, to find Archie watching him intently. He smiled a bit shakily, awkward and uncertain in the aftermath of what had just transpired. But when Archie smiled back at him, he could feel the familiar tightening in his chest begin to ease, replaced by a cautious, but tantalizing sense of well being. Archie reached for his face again and Horatio sighed as Archie´s fingers ghosted along his cheek and across his jaw, a small, sweet smile upon his lips.

Horatio cleared his throat. “That was…" he began, faltered.

Archie was smiling still as he wound one of Horatio´s errant curls around his finger. “I know."

Horatio frowned. He wanted to say something, but unable to find any words that seemed sufficient to encompass the enormity of what he felt. And then he realized there were no words that could ever accomplish such a task, nor were any truly needed. Archie would understand. He always did.

“Thank you for bringing me home."

Archie´s eyes grew soft and liquid.  “You´re welcome," he said before he tugged Horatio down for another lingering kiss. “Happy Christmas, dearest."

He pulled Archie close. “Happy Christmas, Archie."

Archie´s arms slid around him and Horatio burrowed more deeply beneath the blankets though no chill could touch them now. He felt Archie sigh against his neck, a soft contented sound, before his breath evened out in sleep. As his eyes slid closed and slumber wrapped him in its gentle embrace, Horatio knew that he had, indeed, come home at last.

Finis

Loves riddles are, that though thy heart depart,
It stayes at home, and thou with losing savest it:
But wee will have a way more liberall,
Then changing hearts, to joyne them, so wee shall
Be one, and one anothers All.
--John Donne, Lovers´ Infiniteness (l. 29–33)

Notes:  Schmoop, schmoop, schmoop! Yes, I have officially sunk to a new low: I have written holiday schmoop fic. Pure, unadulterated, shockingly clichéd fluff.