[Fic] wrung and wringing out (The Man Who Went Too Far - E. F. Benson)
- Fandom: The Man Who Went Too Far - E. F. Benson
- Pairing: Darcy/Frank
- Tags: Love Confessions, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
- Word-Count: 794
- Status: Complete
- First Published: 2024-09-14
- Disclaimer: I do not own The Man Who Went Too Far - E. F. Benson and make no profit from this—it is solely a hobby for fun, with no financial compensation.
Summary:
For a moment, Darcy could scarcely breathe.
Notes:
- For SweetSorcery.
title from the song Delilah by Florence + the Machine
Happy Fandom Gift Basket 2024 :D
Work Text:
It occurred to Darcy every morning like clockwork, when he saw Frank for the first time of the day, that Frank truly seemed to glow. He was as handsome as he'd ever been in his youth—Darcy had assumed, as time passed, that he'd forget, but every morning he saw Frank and it was not so much a reminder as a it was comforting relaxation. Frank was as he'd ever been; admittedly he glowed from within, his joy infectious, his relaxation enviable, but as a youth Frank had still been much the same when his temper didn't erupt. Smiles, Darcy had always found from him, were capable of stopping a heart.
And so it was no different this day, when Frank shambled in after sleeping out in the night, a yawn just on the edge of catching as the man tumbled into the chair for breakfast. "Morning," he greeted, smiling at Darcy with his head tilted, and the sunlight streamed in through the windows behind him like a halo.
For a moment, Darcy could scarcely breathe.
Truly, he had thought he was over this. And yet only a handful of days in Frank's company and it had all come back, like it'd never left and the worst of all; Darcy did not want it to leave again. He had not realized... so buried in his work, he had been, that he had not given himself leave to think. And though this was a particular lonely condition at times, he still did not wish to give it up.
"Slept well, I suppose," Darcy remarked to Frank, and sipped at some of the tea. It seemed, as all things did here, to be of remarkably higher quality than that which he was used to.
Frank laughed. "It was a particularly lovely night," he said, and when Darcy put down the teacup, Frank promptly stole it. At Darcy's startled blink, Frank grinned. "You made a particular expression, my old friend," he said, and Darcy's heart thumped fiercely, "As if this was the loveliest tea you'd ever tasted." And then Frank sipped at it, sighing and eyelashes fluttering, and Darcy hoped dearly he'd not made a face like that; he did not consider himself unattractive by any means, but still, he thought, there were some things he simply could not 'pull off' as it were. Things that much better suited Frank, especially these days.
Darcy did not mind this. Frank was... well, to say that Darcy could look at him for hours without growing tired would be a particularly heinous understatement. He ached to paint him, to sculpt him, to immortalize him. To preserve this perfection he was so blessed to watch, even if Frank didn't...
"Good," Frank at last declared the tea, laughing slightly as he handed it back. "But not any better than mine. Pray tell me than, why do you look so lost in your thoughts. You don't mind being here, do you?"
"Oh, no, of course not," Darcy hurried to assure, straightening up. "I am ever so grateful for you offering your home to me while I recuperate."
"Than what is the matter?" Frank gazed guilelessly at Darcy, and Darcy could not keep his mouth shut, could not possibly stop himself. There was no part of him that was willing to worry Frank, even if it meant his own embarrassment, his own vulnerability.
"I am quite in love with you," Darcy spoke, his own heartbeat echoing in his air around him.
Frank, for a moment, froze. Darcy froze, too, his heart in his throat, and he swallowed the rest of the tea in one go, the liquid scorching his throat. Then, Frank grinned. "I see. Well, you should have said! I'm quite in love with you, too, you know."
Blinking, it took Darcy far too long to realize what Frank had said. The man had already begun to eat when Darcy collected his thoughts enough to form a coherent sentence out of them, and he said, "You are. You are?"
"I am," Frank said in between bites, and smiled. It was a softer smile. In between another few bites, he elegantly wiped his mouth and said, "I hope you do not consider it an imposition."
"No, of course not," said Darcy. He ate the rest of his breakfast when Frank nudged his foot under the table and Darcy did not wish to be rude, but truth be told he could think of no other thing all day. It had, quite sensibly, stolen his capacity for thinking, and he followed Frank around all day in the forest, simply watching. Occassionally, Frank smiled back at him, beckoning him onward an elegant finger and a tilt of his pretty head, and, well.
Darcy did not mind it.