10001 Nightmares Party

[Fic] in which our roots may grow (The Attic - A.M. Burrage)

Summary:

And so Forbes sought to get married.

Notes:

Written for FandomTrees 2023. Title from North by Sleeping At Last.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

The Fourteen Sheep & A Goat Psychic Society dealt mainly, against all odds, with psychic goats. This was of particular note because only one such psychic goat existed—or at least was known by the Society to exist—and it had a troublesome habit of transporting itself all over the country. It was of particularly ordinary goat looks, and nobody at the Fourteen Sheep & A Goat Psychic Society dealt with goats enough to be able to distinguish one from the other, and so the wrong goat was frequently kidnapped in the line of psychic goat duty. This led to exorbitant fees to pay off farmers, and as a result the Fourteen Sheep & A Goat Psychic Society was often at the edge of bankruptcy.

Stanley Forbes, a man of rather great renown in the Society for his unflappable dealing of returning goats to their rightful owners and successfully smoothing over hurt feelings by way of giving out lots of money, did thusly not find himself particularly surprised when he realized action needed to be taken. Money needed to be had.

With the latest goat returned to the right farmer, Forbes clapped his hands and returned to the Society’s unofficial headquarters, a rather posh, exclusive club for gentlemen of specific monetary value that Forbes did, with his private wealth, meet. The Society, with it’s shared wealth, did not. Nonetheless, they were allowed a private room to consort their business dealings, and it was here that Forbes regretfully shared his findings with Mr. Lindsey, a fellow distinguished—in the sense that he wasn’t a rake—member of the Society.

Mr. Lindsey frowned at him. “That’s a most grave issue,” he pointed out, “Have you brought this up with our fellows?”

“No,” Forbes readily admitted, for he saw no use in bringing this to anybody’s attention. Truthfully, the Society was little more than a playground, and while the Society itself was often at the edge of bankruptcy, the same did not hold true for the individual members. If they were each a bit more willing to part with their money, the situation as it existed would not have occurred, and so Forbes found no value in harping on to them.

The discussion he thusly had with Mr. Lindsey was of no particular help, and Forbes returned home that eve with some degree of dissatisfaction. Still, he was pleased with the day’s efforts in regards to the Society—he had both returned a hapless goat and voiced his concerns to another member, so that in the event the Society did in fact go bankrupt, it would not rest solely on his shoulders. Thus, he slept well that night, and was in no way prepared for the following day’s revelation.

“Mr. Forbes,” Mr. Lindsey said, “I’ve solved it. All you need to do is get married.” Mr. Lindsey, Forbes realized then, had misunderstood. Mr. Lindsey had not in fact understood that it was the Society at the edge of bankruptcy; he thought Forbes was the poor sod about to be literally poor.

Well, Forbes thought, that’s that.

And so Forbes sought to get married.

In all truth, Forbes was on the older age of thirty, and he was indeed beginning to see the wisdom in settling down. This was not to say he was dissatisfied with his life—he loved his job, found his home comfortable, and the Society provided all the charm and recklessness a man convinced of his perpetual youth needed—but he found in recent years the desire for companionship; somebody to come home to, to eat dinner and breakfast with, to sleep beside.

And while an arranged marriage might take some of the magic out of such companionship in the moment, he saw no obstacle in the way of acquiring such magic for themselves, once they were wed.

So Forbes met with a proper matchmaker, and during the course of three months—five more goats returned—he met with young men and women of impeccable pedigree and social status, matching his, of course, lest there be awkwardness. None he would say charmed him in that way truly compatible people charmed each other even on just a first meeting, and so he was beginning to grow rather bored of the venture, truth be told. Nevertheless, with Mr. Lindsey’s kindhearted support, he struggled onward.

Raymond Telford was an old friend of Forbes’, one he hadn’t seen in quite a number of years; Forbes was vaguely aware of a marriage to a lovely woman, a momentary struggle to find a home fit for living after their first attempt at buying some kind of manor fell through, and then later kids, of course.

Forbes had not been to Telford’s wedding, for during that time he’d found a psychic goat and was getting dragged all around the country every time it teleported.

It would not be wrong to call Forbes the founder of the Fourteen Sheep & A Goat Psychic Society and so in that manner he supposed the Society’s perpetual financial troubles could in fact be seen as a reflection of his own ineptitude. But Forbes, perhaps meanfully, did in fact consider himself quite good at running a well-to-do household, and saw no reason why he should have to solely take on the burdens of the Society. His contribution in the form of getting ambushed by a psychic goat on a countryside road did not, in his mind, bestow upon him the sole responsibility of keeping the Society afloat, and neither did any hand he might have had in getting the Society up and running.

On this particular eve, when Telford’s letter came, Forbes read it in the dining room, to the company of his one and only servant, a butler of old age and great renown at the local markets. In the light from the small chandelier, Forbes’ forehead slowly furrowed.

It was not that Forbes had not gone out on a date with a person related to someone he knew; in truth three of the dates he’d recently had with the matchmaker did in fact have some relations, if more distant, to people he personally knew and quite got along with. So Forbes was not put out by Telford’s recommendation of the man’s brother-in-law as a potential marriage partner, but rather found himself a bit embarrassed to acknowledge that he had never met Telford’s wife and children, never met her brother, and so could say nothing but a general acceptance and the details of his matchmaker in reply.

He did wonder, though. About the brother, and what made Telford recommend the match so strongly. And it was well about time he met Telford’s wife, and their no doubt lovely children, and so Forbes, later that eve, penned another letter inviting Telford and his family over.

Then, too, time did pass again.

It had a wont to do so.

Forbes’ matchmaker was a woman of great will and greater connections, and she met him every week like clockwork. Presented him with files on the matches she’d found for him, and watched him over a hawklike nose as he browsed through them. If this was a normal procedure for matchmakers, Forbes did not know, for this was his very first one.

The woman looked at him over the rim of her glasses and raised an impassive eyebrow. “I was contacted by a Mr. Telford,” she told him, and he smiled. It would be a lie to say that a part of him suspected Telford might back out, not contact the matchmaker; that, too, had happened a few times during the last few months. He found no offense in it, and yet was strangely excited when she then proceeded to tell him she’d arranged a meeting with young Derek Wilson.

The psychic goat teleported Forbes to a beach their following meeting. It had a tendency to do such, to the extent that a local fisherman waved at him when Forbes appeared out of nowhere, just out of reach of the dark water beating gently upon the shore. Forbes waved back, holding the goat to his chest. It was a docile, kind thing. It liked hugs a great deal, Forbes suspected, but it was particularly obtuse in the manner it used to achieve its results. It also liked this beach, Forbes thought, for they ended up there so regularly together that there could hardly be another reason.

“Are you going to behave now, Mr. Goat?” Forbes asked the goat in his embrace. The goat did not reply, but the teleporting ceased, and so Forbes was able to make the long journey back home without issue.

Young Derek Wilson, Telford’s brother-in-law, arrived in town the very next weekend. Forbes received a letter that Saturday morning, inviting him to lunch at a restaurant he was passingly familiar with, and Forbes sent his acceptance reply to Wilson’s hotel at utmost speed. The excitement was strange, Forbes thought when deciding his outfit together with his butler, for he’d never met Wilson before and scarcely knew a thing about him, yet felt nearly giddy with nerves.

It would not be a misunderstanding to say that Forbes did not feel anything like this in preparation for his other dates via the matchmaker. That was not to say he was not excited at all—there was always some degree of nerves when meeting the person that, if all things went right, you might marry—but it was not such a giddy sensation in the pit of his stomach just at the idea of meeting this one specific person for the first time.

“Right then. I’ll be off,” Forbes told his butler, and then did not move for nearly thirteen minutes, his butler bustling around him, dusting the hallway on every conceivable surface.

Once Forbes set out on the road, he arrived at his destination at such remarkable speeds, that he wondered if there wasn’t a particular goat in the vicinity. After double-checking and ensuring that the goat was not, in fact, haunting his steps—this had, actually, happened before—Forbes hurried into the restaurant and looked around for his date.

Forbes did not recognize the man at first sight. He had been given no picture of Wilson—his matchmaker considered it to be entirely unnecessary—and so did not realize the attractive man he’d clocked as attractive and then moved on from as a waiter showed him to his table was, in fact, Wilson until he stood right before the man.

And then Wilson smiled.

Oh.

“Stanley Forbes?” Wilson asked, rising and taking off his hat, holding it to his chest. He looked Forbes up and down, in a rather obvious manner, and then smiled again and oh. Oh. Forbes was not entirely sure what to do in this situation.

“Yes,” he said, instead of thinking. “Derek Wilson?”

The smile he received was blinding, to such an extent that Forbes was not entirely sure when he sat down and could, in fact, not even remotely pinpoint when the waiter took his order, or for that matter what he ordered. He assumed it was a sensical thing, though, considering that Wilson did not give him any odd looks, apparently content to sparkle at him.

And oh did he sparkle.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” Derek—for he told Forbes to call him Derek—said at some point after they’d eaten their way through most of the meal, Derek doing so with exceptional elegance and great enjoyment, very clearly conveying his delight in the food without saying a word. It was captivating, such bare joy in something as simple as good food, and Forbes could not help but peek at Derek every few seconds, unable to stop himself from being drawn in again and again and again, Derek’s eyes beautiful in the candle-light, even so early in the day.

“It was no trouble,” Frobes murmured, weak in heart.

Derek waved a hand. “I know it was out of nowhere,” he said, “My brother-in-law contacting you like that.”

“No trouble,” Frobes repeated, shaking his head. “I’m glad Telford has so much gumption, still.”

Derek laughed. “That he does,” he snickered, mischievously, and when he tilted his head just so, Forbes rather did think that it seemed to him like Derek was looking right through him, deep eyes effortlessly cutting into his body; a sensation that was not entirely unwelcome, Forbes did also find. Derek said, “May I ask why you’re looking to get married?”

“Now, you mean?” Forbes raised an eyebrow, picking up a glass a sipping the fragrant, slowly tilting his own head as he attempted to summarise his thoughts. “When I’m already so old?” he drawled, then, and at Derek’s slightly chastised look, a tiny wince hidden behind another smile, Forbes felt only delight fill him. There was something, he thought, about Derek that must function much like anchors in deep waters; Forbes could not look away, was entirely incapable of breaking eye contact with the younger man once such was commenced.

“It was at the suggestion of an acquaintance of mine,” Forbes readily admitted, leaning back on his chair and looking at Derek over the rim of his glass, Derek leaning forth in turn, as if just as attracted to Forbes as Forbes was to him. It was a pleasing notion, and one that Forbes was unable to forget once he’d thought of it.

Derek licked his lips. “I’ll have to thank them, then,” he said, the cheeky smile warming Forbes. Forbes hummed in agreement, thinking to himself that he did indeed owe Mr. Lindsey a great debt of gratitude, for even if this meeting did not lead to marriage, he felt certain that it was at the very least the beginning of a great friendship.

They stayed at the restaurant for one more hour, Derek and Forbes making small talk—the kind of getting-to-you-know questions a first meeting warranted—and growing ever fonder of young Derek, Forbes was so forward as to immediately schedule their next meeting before they parted for the day, lingering at the table in the restaurant after Derek departed.

His matchmaker swished into the seat Derek had occupied only minutes ago and raised an eyebrow. “Well?” she demanded, eyebrow raised.

Forbes hummed. “I like him.”

She smiled, satisfaction emanating from her.

Forbes and Derek proceeded to have no less than twelve meetings in the following weeks, all chaperoned by Forbes’ matchmaker. She was an expert at it; staying well out of the way of interfering with any bonding, but lending her security to their interactions, and allowing a sense of freedom in knowing they were not bumbling about on their own, but had in fact at their disposal the knowledge of an expert.

Not that such expertise was needed, for Forbes and Derek got along quite well, to such an extent that when Forbes’ matchmaker, after his and Derek’s thirteenth meeting, pushed Derek back down into his seat before he could leave and then joined them at their table, Forbes was entirely blindsided. “Well?” she said, nodding to them, pursing her lips when neither of them said a thing, trading uncertain looks with each other instead. She sighed, lowering her tense shoulders. “When is the wedding?”

“Oh,” Derek breathed, and Forbes quite agreed.

Oh.

“Well, we haven’t spoken of that as such,” Derek began, but Forbes’ matchmaker shook her head.

“These meetings are held with the intent of furthering your relationship to a state where you are secure enough in each other to get married. That is what I am being paid for. Are you saying you have wasted my time?” she rose an imperial eyebrow. She was very good at that.

Forbes looked at Derek, and Derek looked at Forbes, and then Forbes said, “I am certainly secure enough in my relationship with Derek for marriage, I should think,” and Derek made a half-strangled noise in the back of his throat, Forbes joining his matchmaker in raising an eyebrow at the young chap.

Under the combined attention of both Forbes and the matchmaker, Derek blushed something fierce. But even with the blush he was a dashing man, and when he leaned forward and shamelessly glanced up at Forbes from below his long eyelashes… well, Forbes did not find it wrong to say that he momentarily lost his breath.

“I’m ready to get married if you are,” Derek said, and smiled.

Forbes exhaled. Looked to their matchmaker and waited until she at last was forced to react. “Excellent,” she said.

Forbes quite agreed.

Of course, they did not marry right away. Such an event took time to plan, not to mention that Forbes still had not visited upon Telford and the man’s wife, Derek’s older sister. It was only prudent to make such a visit before broaching the topic of marrying a lady’s younger brother, and asking for her blessing. And, naturally, he would need to learn their schedule, so that Derek’s sister and her family would without doubt be able to attend the wedding.

Derek, who set out to visit his sister a few days earlier, waited for Frobes at the train station in town. “You’re lucky,” Derek said, falling into step beside Forbes. “My train was delayed by very nearly fourteen hours. An avalanche, they said.”

“Quite unfortunate,” Forbes expressed, dipping his gaze over Derek’s strong form. “Are you well?” he asked.

Derek smiled. “Quite well, indeed. I have been having a lovely time with my sister and her children, and Telford, too, I suppose. Though, truth be told,” and he leaned a little closer to Forbes, lowering his voice, “The children are quite exhausting in the afternoon, I’m afraid. The tiny ones especially so.” And when Derek pulled away again, to a distinctly appropriate distance, Forbes could not help but miss the intimacy.

At Telford’s home, Telford waited for them outside the door. He waved upon spotting them, and Forbes pulled himself up straighter, took a small step away from Derek in the interest of propriet, because he did find that he was increasingly pulled toward Derek in their every interaction, to such an extent that it may well be viewed as untoward advances, despite their upcoming nuptials. Mayhaps even precisely because of their upcoming nuptials, for Forbes must surely be painfully obvious in his desires, where his mind tripped when he forgot to guard against it.

“At long last,” Telford laughed, shaking Forbes’ hand ferociously, and giving Derek a look over Forbes’ shoulder. “You’ve deigned to visit us.”

“You could have come up to meet me,” Forbes could not help but remind the man, and Telford laughed, shook his head, and led him inside. The house was homey, small, but not so small as to feel compact and like the furniture ought to be standing on each other. They had electricity, in any case, and the kitchen looked grand and spotless when Forbes peaked inside. Led to a relaxing room with couches and armchairs and a fireplace, Forbes took a seat on a green couch and watched Derek quietly out of the corner of his eye, tracking the man’s progress through the room; Derek was devoid of his outwear clothing now, and when he sat down in an armchair and spread out, Forbes gulped. Looked away.

“I can’t believe you’re getting married,” Gladys Telford said, swishing into the room with a gaggle—in truth only three, for that were all the children they had—of tiny children behind her, going straight for her brother, Derek rising in response and bending down to kiss her cheeks. She smiled prettily under his attention, and Derek grinned when he straightened up again, patting one of the children on their tiny heads. Forbes for a moment thought that maybe the child’s head would dislodge under the attention, so great was the difference in size, but the child only laughed and ducked away with a giggle.

“I am quite happy,” Derek murmured to his sister, Forbes elegantly pretending he was not listening in, though of course every word was perfectly audible to him at this distance. One of the children approached him, then, and he tried patting them on their head, the kid bending out of the way and running off. Forbes blinked after them, rather out of his element at the moment.

While quite a few of Forbes's acquaintances and friends had children at this point—he was rather getting on in age, wasn’t he—that did not translate into Forbes himself having any great interaction with those of minor ages. There would be meetings with school boys at times, when they came to his work to peak about and inquire if they were hiring runners, assistants, and the like, but they almost never were, and also truthfully Forbes had never personally seen the need for children, and so made no effort to get to know any. They were rather like tiny persons to him, and they held no great appeal until such a time as they were grown enough for proper conversations, which did indeed not tend to occur until one was an adult, and had some proper experiences beyond just school and running around with other children.

“It is a great deal of pleasure to meet you, of course,” Gladys said at dinner to Forbes, “It is only that I don’t understand why my little brother is suddenly so keen to marry someone of your stature. He has made no such inclinations known to me, before.”

“I am of the age where marriage is starting to hold a certain appeal,” Derek remarked, sipping at his wine.

Forbes laughed. “Only some appeal?” he asked, teasingly, raising an eyebrow. Derek blushed somewhat, the red on his cheeks barely visible, but Forbes delighted in it nonetheless, of recently grown more and more bold in his enjoyment of Derek’s all too pretty blushes. He rather thought that Derek enjoyed it, too, in fact, for Derek had never begged him cease his words, and so Forbes carried onwards with a certain certainty in his actions.

Waving a hand, Derek amended, “The appeal has grown, of course. I am very satisfied with you, dear,” and Forbes’ breath hitched in his throat, Derek’s smirk cruelly beautiful. On his next breath, Forbes smiled somewhat, and raised a toast to Telford when the man commanded one, jolly in spirit and words.

The eve was pleasant, if slow. Gladys took expert care of the children, steering them around so they made no damage, and Derek sat down with Forbes on a couch later that eve, stretching out and tilting his slightly to the side, and naturally Forbes's eye went right to the bared neck, and he blinked, some degree of apprehension filling. “We are not yet wed,” he stated, and it was no more than an observation, truly, for he did not move and did not stop looking, his gaze surely obvious in its intent.

“I am quite aware,” Derek said, amused. He smiled, and nudged Forbes with his foot. It was decidedly something that he did quite often; small touches, that was. Derek, Forbes had come to learn over the time they’d spent together, was a person prone to small touches and gentle nudges, and truthfully Forbes had grown ever fonder of such things of late, in turn.

“It shall need to be soon,” Forbes murmured, with some degree of trepidation and a sensation of his lungs in his throat laying his hand between them on the couch, the fabric rough, and waiting, looking at last away from Derek for he did not wish to see rejection. Found, these days, that the idea of Derek changing his mind on the marriage; of Derek realizing the vast age difference between them and electing otherwise; of Derek deciding that he’d rather have children; of Derek looking at Forbes and not finding him handsome or appealing; Forbes found such worries growing in the dark of the night and was, in all truth, not always able to reject them as pure imagination, for was Derek not so much younger, so attractive, with a good job and prosteticve quiet wealth that would last quite long even with multiple children?

Derek put his hand on top of Forbes’ and entangled their fingers, Forbes squeezing back without question or hesitation, Derek’s warmth penetrating him right down to his skeleton. “It shall,” Derek agreed, and when Forbes at last looked to him again, Derek’s gaze was already scalding him, deep and utterly penetrating, with no way for Forbes to hide, or cower, or disguise his emotions and intent.

Derek smiled. “You are quite handsome, you know,” he said, and his tone broke no argument.

“You ever more so,” Forbes nevertheless did not let it lie, for Derek much deserved to hear praise of his appearance and countenance and intelligence, for Forbes was only ever more entangled, more enraptured, with every meeting, every conversation, every look and glance and touch.

It was, all told, a quite agreeable notion, this impending marriage of theirs.

Notes:

Realized partway through it sure could have been fun if Derek had been the psychic goat all along, but alas it was too late in the game, LOL. Also, I wanted the goat to reappear in the Telford's home and/or at the wedding, but this felt like a good place to end it darn it.

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