10001 Nightmares Party

[Fic] and when it rains, it pours (The Attic - A. M. Burrage)

Summary:

By the time the train rolled into the station, heavy, black clouds already filled up the horizon from end to end, a proper wall despite the early hour.

Notes:

Happy Fandom Gift Basket 2024 :D

Work Text:

By the time the train rolled into the station, heavy, black clouds already filled up the horizon from end to end, a proper wall despite the early hour.

Derek Wilson tilted his head back and gazed up with a faint frown, hand on the wall for support, and he had hardly taken his first step off the train when the heavens opened. For a moment, it was but a drizzle, and he had enough time to exhale in relief; then, all at once, the flood opened and he was drenched from head to toe within the blink of an eye. Freezing—literally—Derek stood still long enough that he got shoved from behind and while he was stumbling forth, he had the grave, unfortunate realization that he had not, in fact, brought an umbrella.

In hindsight, this was a horrific mistake.

Huddling into his coat, Derek managed to stumble his way to a bench under an awning, dropping his bag on the wet ground and rubbing his arms to restore circulation. He shivered in the cold; winter was just around the corner, and though frost was not yet littering the ground and staining the grass, it surely felt as if it ought.

For a few minutes, Derek merely watched the other passengers disembarking. It was hardly any, truly; Gladys and Telford had moved to a small, remote town after selliing the Moat House for a fraction of it's worth—they had had to let go of all their servants, bought the smallest house either of them had ever lived in before, but they always seemed relieved about it when they spoke. Which was admittedly not as often as they should like, Derek thought. And he knew some of that distance was his fault; it was merely that, despite the years that had passed, the initial dsiblief and discard of his experiences in the Moat House still sat with him, and he could not excise it from his nightmares.

The rain got worse. With a great big whoosh, it beat down upon the world like a hammer, water bouncing high when it hit the ground, and under the awning the echo of it surrounded him. Derek brushed a hand over his wet, cold cheek, removing the raindrop clinging to his eyelash, and the train left, and then he was alone.

"Derek Wilson?" a voice asked from beside him, and Derek jumped, having not heard anybody approaching for the rain. The voice was somewhat distorted from the constant badgering of the rain upon the world, and he blamed this for not instantly recognizing Forbes' voice; because, of course, Derek had never forgotten a thing about Stanley Forbes.

It was, honestly, kind of embarrassing.

Doubly so because everybody knew—Derek had not been subtle, as a teen. Gladys let him talk endlessly about Forbes, and Telford always told him whatever knew thing he'd heard Forbes' was up to, and during his school years it was no exaggeration to say that he'd regaled all his school mates with long serenades abotu Forbes. He was trying to be better about that sort of thing, now that he was an adult, and yet somehow he'd still gone on a tangent about Forbes to his coworker just last week.

Biting his bottom lip, Derek looked at Forbes through heavy, wet eyelashes. "Forbes?" he asked, then added "Stanley Forbes?" like an utter fool. Forbes frowned slightly, then, and Derek's stomach wilted, his teeth digging harshly into his tongue. He let it go before he drew blood, and straightened. "I mean, hello, Forbes," he smoothly corrected, smiling as a gust of wind caused him to shiver, sticking his naked hands under his armpits and shuddering.

"You're cold," Forbes said, and of course he had an umbrella. It had not saved all of him, of course; in this kind of rain no umbrella was good enough. The tips of his pants were still drenched and one of his shoulders looked like it had gotten a worse beating then the other. But his hat looked dry, and he wasn't shivering like Derek. Taking step forth, Forbes towered over Derek and stuck the umbrella over them; it was naturally not big enough, and it left parts of both of them exposed to the elements, but the awning Derek stood under was no great cover; the rain fell at too steep an angle and the awning was far too small.

Exhaling, Forbes smiled at him. "I must confess to a delight in seeing you, lad," he said, and Derek lost his breath.

"You do?" he asked, and he sounded far too much like he felt.

Forbes's eyes were warm; indeed, he seemed even warmer than Derek remembered him, his hands steady and his countenance handsome. "I have," Forbes began, and then did not finish. Derek did not rush him—he held his breath until his chest, heart thumping fiercely, ached, and then he breathed in with a great gust that could not possibly be missed. Forbes' smile grew—bigger and softer both—and he said, "I have often wondered," Forbes said.

Derek looked away. For a breath, he could not stand looking at Forbes, at the openness of his eyes gaze, the kindness in his expression. He wondered, Derek thought. Forbes wondered. But what about? Did he wonder like Derek wondered? Did he lie awake at dark nights like Derek did? Did he write letters he never sent, as did Derek?

He wondered.

But still, Derek could not bear to look away for long. Glancing back at Forbes, his breath caught in his throat; Forbes was looking right at him, too. Gulping somewhat, Derek smiled and leaned closer toward Forbes, taking greater shelter under the umbrella, and Forbes tilted it to cover more of him. Instantly, Forbes shivered, some hint of a frown appearing in his brows, as more rain washed over him. "Oh, no," Derek said, waving his hands, and they were close enough they touched, now, their bodies right next to each other. But he only felt the cold of the rain clinging to Forbes' clothes, and he continued, "Don't suffer for my sake."

Forbes frowned at him, and Derek shook his head, determined to stick to his guns. "No, Forbes," he said, "I desire no such thing. A little rain isn't going to hurt me, anyway."

"You'll catch a cold," Forbes pointed out.

Derek slanted his head in acknowledgement. "I'm rather afraid that ship has already sailed," he said, smiling. The fact that Forbes was actually right here with him, beside him, right next to him, was starting to sink into his skull, and he could not help a fluttering in the pit of his stomach. Inhaling deeply, he mourned the fact that all he could smell was the rain—not an unpleasant smell by any means, of course, but rather not what he desired at this moment. "Sit with me," Derek murmured instead of any other things he ought to say, apologies he ought make for staying so far away—not just from Forbes, but keeping far too big a distance from everyone, really. "No reason to stand around in this weather."

"Of course," Forbes said, and so they sat. Their clothes were too wet, naturally, and so the bench, having kept from the worst of the rain by the awning above, was still a cold and dismal feeling under them. But Derek could not possibly care less of such a thing; they sat close enough their shoulders pressed together and watched the rain, feeling it beating upon their shoes, too. After a while, Derek leaned his head on Forbes' shoulder and Forbes said not a word, but he gripped Derek's hand in his own gloved one, and Derek sank into the warmth offered to him with a soft exhale.

They did not move until the rain—at least somewhat—abated enough for them to continue the journey onward to the Telford's place.

In hindsight, Derek rather thought it a scheme, that they were to travel there on the same day. He resolved not to mention a word of this suspicion; he would, he suspected, be only met with a smug expression from Gladys. No, he thought, turning his head in toward Forbes, he should keep this to himself. Only for a little.

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#Fandom: The Attic #Post Type: Fic #Rating: Teen #Status: Complete #Tag: Post-Canon #Tag: Weather #WC: 1000-5000