10001 Nightmares Party

[Fic] for the night was dark (Suspense - Radio 1943)

Summary:

"Might I trouble you for awhile?" the stranger asked, faint and wheezing, blowing hot air on his bare hands under the cover of the door's mighty frame. He looked at Kohary through wet eyelashes, and he blinked them rapidly as he hurriedly added, "I'm lost, you see. I'll only trouble you for a night, just until I can arrange somebody to come pick me up."

Notes:

Work Text:

It was, of course, a dark and stormy night. Strange travelers in need of aid always seemed to knock on the door during dark and stormy nights, rain whipping at the windows, great trees dancing in the wind, shadows twisting and turning over people's faces as lights flickered. This particular dark and stormy night was much like any other, then, expect for the visitor; a wet hat on his head, body trembling under the onslaught of cold water as Stephan Kohary opened the door. For a moment, he did naught but look at the stranger; younger than him, certainly, and mighty handsome, if one was in the mood to notice such things, which Kohary wasn't particularly this eve, having spent the whole day fiddling to achieve a perfect budget.

"Might I trouble you for awhile?" the stranger asked, faint and wheezing, blowing hot air on his bare hands under the cover of the door's mighty frame. He looked at Kohary through wet eyelashes, and he blinked them rapidly as he hurriedly added, "I'm lost, you see. I'll only trouble you for a night, just until I can arrange somebody to come pick me up."

And Kohary said nothing, for a long moment, glancing back into the house. The others were asleep, of course—except, possibly, Illona. One could never be quite certain what she was up to. "Yes, of course," Kohary said when the man's teeth started chattering, and stepped back. He watched the man walk in, huddling in on himself to preserve heat, and Kohary put his hand on the man's wet, cold shoulder, the fabric dense under his hand, the man freezing as he stared back. "I think we'd better get you out of these clothes before you freeze to death, stranger," Kohary very rationally pointed out, and the man nodded several times, eyes wide, gulping slightly.

On the way to the closest guest bedroom, the man said, "I'm Edward, Edward Whiteford—"

"That's quite alright," Kohary stated, "We can talk once you've gotten into dry clothes, and perhaps have had a cup of a tea. You look mighty cold, I must say."

"Oh, I do feel so cold," Whiteford shivered, blowing on his hands again, and he kept quiet as he followed Kohary into the bedroom. It stank of dust and musk; it had not been cleaned in quite a while, for truthfully there was no need to. Visitors were rare around here, more so in Kohary's house; and those that did visit often had a particular job to do and a particular place to stay in his gratitude. He bore no desire to house people otherwise, for tempting fate was the habit of young people—ignorant people, even. And Kohary liked to think that he had attained a bit more sense than that, especially with Illona's peculiarities.

Helping Whiteford out of his coat, Kohary hang the wet thing on his arm and looked Whiteford over. Even his suit was wet, despite the coat. It must have been raining cats and dogs for a while, wherever he'd been walking, and Kohary grimaced in sympathy. "Well, get undressed and I'll fetch you something to wear," Kohary said, and Whiteford shuddered.

"Oh, there's no need for that, sir," Whiteford said, shaking his hand, but his stiff hands plucked at his buttons with a soft frown, as he attempted to wrangle them open. "The blankets will be more than enough—I shouldn't ask you for charity, good sir. I assure you I'm quite well off, and I'll manage just fine—"

"It's of no matter," Kohary shook his head. "It's only some clothing." Eyes narrowing, he studied the way Whiteford's stiff, blueish fingers failed to unlatch all the buttons, and he clicked his tongue. "Hold still," Kohary said, stepping up and smoothly undoing the suit jacket, pulling it off in quick motions while Whiteford only stared at him. It was to be expected, Kohary supposed; Whiteford's fingers had had no protection outside and really, it was foolish of Kohary to assume he should need no aid beyond some tea. "I'll get the fire going. Can you get out of the rest yourself, or you require my help?"

"Help? No, I—I can do it, really," and Whiteford did seem to have a bit more functionality in his fingers, now, managing to get the first few buttons of his shirt undone before Kohary left the room in search of fire wood and some extra clothes. He found the clothes first, in the simply taking a sleeping gown of his own and a thick robe and socks, for he wasn't quite sure where else to get something. Then the search of fire wood delayed him, for it was naturally not something he usually took care of himself. But it was late, late at night, and Kohary saw no reason to wake up the help just for this; he was not incompetent, anyway, he thought, and could quite manage to light a fire himself. He simply needed to find the wood.

He was just beginning to fear that he'd have to venture outside in search of it when he found some squared away int he basement, and he exhaled. Hurriedly, he got a few pieces of wood onto his pile of clothing, and then he cursed himself, for at some point he'd failed to think things through. The pile was so big he could scarcely see where he was putting his feet, and the road back to Whiteford was a long and slow one.

And upon returning, he found Illona in the room, speaking softly with Whiteford.

Kohary's heart skipped a beat, and he frowned. "You should be in bed, Illona," he stated, "It's very late, and you need your sleep."

"But uncle," she started, looking at him with a disconcertingly clear gaze, "Ned needs help," she spoke, rising and brushing her hands on her nightgown, and Kohary frowned when Whiteford looked at her. She was a pretty sight; Illona had always been beautiful. But Kohary found no joy in this—only a slow, creeping kind of disquiet, for beauty attracted attention. Attention that, should Illona stay out of jail, it was best she did not attract.

And naturally, Kohary did not wish to see his niece in prison, not the least because it should doubtlessly do her no good.

"Bed, Illona," Kohary said, putting the pile of things down on the bed and waving his hand at her, his tone brokering no argument. "I have this well in hand."

"Uncle..." she pleaded, looking to Whiteford then as if he ought to take her side, and Kohary supposed that that was perhaps the decent thing to expect of a man his age, when faced with a woman like Illona. But Whiteford was no longer looking at her; he was looking at Kohary and the items he'd brought, and swept into his dusty blanket he was indeed quite a sad sight. Illona waited another moment, then quietly sighed, her brows furrowed as she slowly trudged out, looking back every few seconds in waiting of somebody to change their minds. Kohary did not, and Whiteford was only beginning to shiver in cold again.

Once she was gone, Kohary shut the door. He bustled over to the fireplace, squatting down and speaking over his shoulder, "Get changed before you freeze to death," and indeed heard Whiteford do as he said while he fiddled with getting the wood into the fireplace just right and then getting them lit. It was a work of but a few moments, and yet when he stood, patting his hands free of the dust, Whiteford had already changed into the clothes, huddling and brushing his arms as he stepped closer to the fire, exhaling slowly. His fingers still looked a little blue, and his hair was still dripping wet, but his gaze was a little more present, and he smiled at Kohary.

"Thank you," he said, sitting down and swaying in front of the fireplace. Kohary get the blanket and put it over him as well, just for good measure. Whiteford looked up at him gratefully, ducking his head somewhat bashfully. "I really don't know what I'd done if I you hadn't let me in," Whiteford said, somber.

"Died, I assume," Kohary pointed out, sitting down beside Whiteford and breathing in the fire's heat.

Whiteford barked a laugh. "You're quite right, I suppose," he said, and swayed a little more, his body leaning closer to Kohary. Kohary did not move to avoid it, and he ought not to feel a thing about it but when the firelight danced over Whiteford's face, it occurred to Kohary again that he was quite a vision, handsome and eyes glittering, his smile very much a pretty thing. Whiteford tilted his head, then, and his gaze was heavy, his eyelashes fluttering on a soft inhale, and he said in a quieter tone, "I'll pay you back, I swear it."

"Nonsense," Kohary said, shaking his head. He laughed slightly, hoarse with the late hour, "I'll entertain no such thin g. You are in need, and I am simply providing."

Whiteford's eyes grew softer, and he ducked his head a bit again, inhaling slowly and deeply. His eyelashes flicked as he looked up at Kohary, gazing up from below them, and the firelight cast strange shadows over the lining of his face and yet it could not distort his handsomeness, his geniality. Kohary found himself leaning closer, in turn, and their shoulders brushed, the fabric between them but not halting the warmth he could feel burning in Whiteford. Whiteford said, "I apologize for keeping you up."

And Kohary said, "I'll get you that tea," because Whiteford had started to minutely shiver again. Kohary supposed that the cold was not that easily beaten, and he smiled, trying for some semblance of reassurance but fearing he didn't do a very good job of it. He'd never been very good at it, and so he laughed a bit instead, standing and saying, "Don't go anywhere."

Whiteford mutely shook his head, and so Kohary found his way to the kitchen and quickly tossed together a cup of steaming tea. He brought it back hurrying a bit, couldn't quite help the thought that Illona might have found her way back and was trying to seduce Whiteford again. She never listened to much to him, anyway.

But Whiteford was alone when Kohary returned, and so Kohary sat down beside him again and held out the teacup. Whiteford smiled, raised his hands and took it, and for a moment they both held the cup, Whiteford's fingers on top of Kohary's. They were ice cold, burning with it almost with it, and Kohary hissed, inhaling sharply. But he couldn't also help nothing that they were quite pretty hands, too, elegant and long-limbed. Very ordered nails.

It took far too long for Kohary to pull his hand back, but Whiteford said not a word about it, only gazing at him with a quiet, content smile. He sipped at his tea, then, when Kohary let go, and it was probably foolishness that meant Kohary didn't move away, stayed sitting where he was on the rug before the fireplace, his bum quite uncomfortable for it wasn't a very thick rug, beaten down with years of people walking over it. Still, he did not move, his eyes not shifting from gazing at Whiteford, either.

Quite pathetic of him, he supposed.

Still, he did not move.

After Whiteford had finished the tea, he held the empty cup in his hands for a while more, gazing down at it with a thoughtful gaze. Kohary looked at him, in turn, then at the fire, watching the flames shifting. The fire ought to go out soon, he thought, also, and sighed at that. He needed more wood, but he didn't much want to move, or leave Whiteford on his own. So he simply watched the flames burn lower and lower, and listened to the sounds of the wood being eaten, of the wind shifting through the air, of the ancient house resettling on its foundations, creaking floorboards and cracking walls and rain beating harshly upon the windows. It was a constant noise, and his heart beat in time with the rapid rhythm, and he swallowed heavily.

Whiteford said, in the dark, to the firelight, "I really am so grateful," and Kohary wasn't much surprised when slumber began to pull Whiteford under, and yet his heart still skipped a beat when Whiteford's head tilted and his body followed suit. Kohary caught him, of course, held him close and tucked him in, surrounding him as surely as the fading fire, and he gulped at the distinct feeling of Whiteford's head nuzzling into neck, a soft huff escaping him.

Kohary looked at his head, and his covered body that still shivered in cold, and he didn't move.

Not even when he fell over, body unable to keep holding the both of them up, and the floor was uncomfortable on his back. Yet all Kohary did was shut his eyes, holding tight to Whiteford; and at some point, he assumed, he must have fallen asleep, for he did not wake again until the sunlight was drifting over his eyelids, a warm weight holding him down, and he exhaled slowly, no urge to move.

He was, he thought, quite content.

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#Fandom: MISC - Audio #Post Type: Fic #Rating: Teen #Status: Complete #Tag: AU #WC: 1000-5000