[Fic] woodsmen (Biggles Series - W. E. Johns)
- Fandom: Biggles Series - W. E. Johns
- Pairing: James "Biggles" Bigglesworth/Erich von Stalhein
- Tags: Hurt/Comfort
- Word-Count: 886
- Status: Complete
- First Published: 2024-12-10
- Disclaimer: I do not own Biggles Series - W. E. Johns and make no profit from this—it is solely a hobby for fun, with no financial compensation.
Summary:
Biggles turned away from the heart of the forest and said, "Let me help you," bending his knees until he sat flush in the snow, toes cold even in the thick boots. Erich merely glared at him, nose runny, cheeks rosy, and body huddled at the base of a tree, a truly pathetic fire in front of him. Biggles frowned; the last person he'd expected to run into so deep in this forest---in this forest at all, even---was Erich von Stalhein.
Notes:
written for whumpcember 2024 - Day 10: “Let Me Help You”
Work Text:
Biggles turned away from the heart of the forest and said, "Let me help you," bending his knees until he sat flush in the snow, toes cold even in the thick boots. Erich merely glared at him, nose runny, cheeks rosy, and body huddled at the base of a tree, a truly pathetic fire in front of him. Biggles frowned; the last person he'd expected to run into so deep in this forest---in this forest at all, even---was Erich von Stalhein.
But then again, they had rather made a habit of it, hadn't they?
Erich sneezed, and Biggles' frown grew harsher. This wasn't good weather to be getting sick in; snow fell gently from the white sky, and soon the sun would set. It was already cold---Biggles had a cabin a ways away, and he could simply not in good conscience leave Erich behind, knowing that something foul might happen to him in the night. No, he decided, he very much could not.
"Let me help you," he said, and held out his hand. "I have a cabin for the night."
But Erich merely glared at him, breathing too fast and cheeks too flushed, body faintly trembling. His lips were too pale, too, thought Biggles, and the sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach only got worse. "Please," said Biggles then, lowering his voice. "I can't leave you out here, alone and cold."
"I don't see you have much of a choice," said Erich at last, and Biggles inhaled, shoulders loosening somewhat at the certain strength that still existed in Erich's familiar voice. It was a welcome sound, to be sure, but still Biggles could not entirely toss off that strange certainty, that ill-gotten fear, that if he left Erich behind then in the morning... then Erich might have been taken from Biggles, from the world, forevermore.
"It's too cold to say such," meant Biggles, keeping his hand in front of Erich, hovering. Furrowing his brows, he asked, "Are you all alone? Is there nowhere warm for you to go?"
"Is that what you think?" asked Erich, and there was a bit more weakness in his voice, now. Biggles' eyes only narrowed, his exhale slow and shuddering. The icy wind attacked his cheeks, and his nose ran; sniffling, Biggles managed to hold in the sneeze that doubtlessly would only make him colder.
"I think if you had better cover you would take it," said Biggles, and Erich's smile was small at that, but it was a smile. Biggles chest warmed at that---Erich was not so frozen as to have abandoned all his grace, then. Good, he thought. "But I m offering you cover now, no strings- Whatever you're here for, freezing in the forest can hardly help, you can it?"
"And you would help me, would you?" Erich's eyes were warm, but his jaw was slightly clenched, his eyelashes clumping together in the cold. Biggles could not look at him too long without the urge to take him into his arms and personally warm him up nearly overwhelming him. He would do no such thing; not without it being welcomed, in turn. And he did not think Erich was in the mood for such frivolity, now.
But a blanket, Biggles though. And a fireplace. That might be welcomed.
"Of course," Biggles said and smiled. "I would help you." Then, he could no resist a moment of levity, an attempt to perhaps clear the air a bit, as it were. "You know this, I'm sure."
Eyes narrowed, jaw tight, Erich stared at him. His eyes were startlingly big when most of his face was hidden in his knees, an attempt to protect his nose from the harsh wind. He stared at Biggles as if he could see right through him, and Biggles could not help a shiver under that deep, discerning gaze. Could not help but try to reach fo him, too; tried to lay his hand on a knee and then drew back just before he made contact. "I don't wish to be in pain," said Biggles, hoarsely, far too revealingly. But it was cold, and he feared for Erich's fate, should the man be left out here, and he could not keep the sentiment contained. Could not stop himself from voicing thoughts he'd never usually dare say, a part of him scared that doing so should do nothing but make them obsolete.
But finally, after staring at Biggles in silence for minutes, snowflakes landing on Erich's eyelashes and staying there, Erich said, "Take me to your cabin."
It felt like a victory.
It felt like a wonder, and Biggles could not stop his smile. Huffing, Erich rolled his eyes, a tiny, nearly unnoticeable motion, and Biggles only smiled wider. Erich took his hand, though, and allowed Biggles to pull his shivering, shaking body to his feet, hand trembling in Biggles grip. And he allowed Biggles to lead the way to the old, small cabin.
In the morning, he was gone. But the traces of his presence lingered; the smell of him, a teakettle with warm water on the table, and Biggles sat there and drank his tea, and he thought about Erich. And where he might be going.
And then he decided that it was his turn to follow, now.
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