#Someone I Have Not Yet Met|Ben Tallmadge

[brooklynislandgirl]

@honorhearted {{xx}}

As if drawn by those words, the flat of one palm rests against his chest while the cup of her fingers ~thin as ribbons and just as smooth~ slide down his bicep. "Got a feeling that...you'd give a pretty good showing. Still waters an' all of that. Plus-" She gives his arm a soft squeeze "-You seem surprisingly built under all those sweater vests of yours. So let 'em be jealous, and wear that tie like a peacock. I'll be glad to patch up anyone who needs it after." When she tells this story to Jay later, she'll find the words to articulate the feelings in her chest as they plummet to the pit of her stomach. The exact way his thumb feels as it caresses the high arch of her cheek. How she imagines one of the whorls in his print tripping over one of the minuscule freckles it finds there. She'll tell Jay about how impossibly blue his eyes are. That she drowns in them until even her breath runs out. Maybe not how her eyelashes flutter until they half-shut away her gaze and she feels her heart climbing up her throat with a temerity unfamiliar to her. Or how her stomach slowly morphed into ouroboros, knotting itself together in that moment of anticipation. His lips find the tip of her nose. And slowly the build up crashes into the parts of her that are a cellar while she manages to affix a smile in place. A lifetime of being at the Admiral's whim has give Beth the ability to hide away her inner self and have no one the wiser for it. Even her voice sounds remarkably steady. "I'd love to. It's one of my favourite things. Dancing, I mean." This is the absolute truth and she doesn't have to fake the genuine warmth that takes over her tone. She takes a step back while her hands find their way to her sides. The next moment she gives him a narrow-eyed stare that comes with a twitch of her lips. "Oh already with the short jokes, huh? Better watch it, pal. I might bite your knees off."

The threat, lame though it is, holds no real heat. Neither does the space she creates as she tucks herself out of the way so he can lead her to these mysterious shelves and the vinyl they hold. How many of them do they share copies of? What does he like to listen to the most? Some day she'll have to replace her Pink Floyds, her Pearl Jams, her Chili Peppers, her Glenn Millers. Would he enjoy her brother's collection of Blues greats, his devotion to the old sixties and seventies rock stars? Had Samuel seeded the passion for music, or had Ben stumbled on them all on his own? There are so many questions that rise from a simple invitation, and she doesn't know how to go about asking any of them. "What do you think you're in the mood for? Something slow and close, or something that'll really get the blood pumping?" She rakes Ben with an appraising gaze. "Tell me deep down in your heart of hearts that you really wanted to be Sid Vicious or that you sang into your hairbrush along with the great Etta James."

[brooklynislandgirl]

"Not exactly a bad girl, just one who sometimes gets a little tightly focused. I've never worn real leather even once in my life and I've never once sung about being Sandra Dee." Okay so maybe the reference was a little dated but then so is Beth in a lot of ways related to growing up. There's sheltered and then there's whatever she'd been. "And it wasn't forget in the classical sense, it just slipped my mind. But if you're a very very good boy, some day I might let you go ahead to try and find it."

Was she teasing? Absolutely. And does Ben look good with colour in his cheeks? Also yes. It's really a win-win situation here, or so she tells herself. At least until she jerks her head back instinctively and blinks once, twice, a third time before laughing and lifting her hands to protect herself.

She wants to gently remind him that she isn't in the business of killing turtles or contribute to plastic in the sea but that doesn't seem either courteous or going with the flow of this...not-a-date. "When I retaliate, they will kick us out. It will be as glorious as the Battle of Thermopylae." Oh she knows this isn't Sparta and she isn't at all serious. But the moment is, and it turns on a dime. She has, since meeting Ben, wondered just how alike they are. Maybe he's also got an emotional imbalance, the very thing she hasn't brought up yet. She is only now addressing her audio processing disorder and there's only so much of yourself you can drop on someone at any given point in time. Especially not when almost all of you is screaming not to chase that very someone away. Or as her brother used to say often and with great exasperation, 'can't you stop being weird just this once, Bean?' And judging by the look on his face, the thickness of at the back of his throat, she figures the answer is no, not even a little bit. "I think it trans..." She stops, as she often does, mid-sentence then shakes her head. "You know what? I don't think it matters. Not maybe the way we think it does." Especially not when he agrees that her borough is acceptable. Now a frisson of fear slithers down her spine when he mentions furniture. And nick-knacks. And all the little things about her life she can't really hide any more. Which means for the first time, she might actually have to be vulnerable outside of her control, to answer questions that can't help but be asked. "I'm sure everyone says that about teachers. That or you live in the school or a craft closet." She means to lighten that feeling in the pit of her stomach. "You've never mentioned being caught, and I assume if you had a criminal record to speak of, that you'd never be give access to tarps and shovels, so there's that." His skin is warm and she all but lets it soak into her fingers. If he means to keep her there, she'd had no intention of taking her hand away. She drags her eyes from their hold on each other then upwards to meet his gaze. She really likes to hear him explain and how strange that it's a fact that she doesn't actually know, despite being a master of random trivia. And once again, he makes her smile. This time it wrinkles her nose at the corners of her eyes and she doesn't try to hide it or look away. "No, I can vouch for the wine and the vodka, at least, and the food's pretty good too. An' rest assured, I am."

Ben had always been adept at dampening the mood. He tended to overthink everything; he worried, needled, prodded, and exasperated until the source of his troubles either gave up on him outright, or were beaten into submission from his constant fixation. This, he supposed, was no exception to the rule. Although the idea of beating Ellie into submission -- or rather, her common sense -- was both laughable and unlikely, he still noted the way her expression was more distant, her features drawn, her voice quiet. Had he done that?

Popping another straw out of the dispenser at his elbow, Benjamin idly peeled away at the end while Ellie spoke. "Ah, so you're the resident bad girl in this equation," he teased. "I can't believe you just forgot about an entire tattoo. It must've been in really hard to find place."

Ellie wiggled her brows and he laughed, lifting the straw to his lips before blowing. The paper casing shot off in a brief, haphazard flight before landing unceremoniously into her lap -- and not without careening into her nose first.

"Bullseye," he said, chuckling. "And they say diners can't be fun."

It was easy to deflect, to distract, to tease. If Ben got her to focus on the mundane and trivial, then perhaps she wasn't focusing on him -- on how much of a mess he was, nor how much he really, truly, madly did enjoy her company. He didn't wish to be a tag-along or some ever-present, insufferable bur, but it was difficult for him to imagine his life without her at this point... And to be frank, he didn't wish to.

As if privy to his musings, Ellie gently laid her hand over his thigh and he drew a breath, holding still, lest he shatter the yearned for contact.

"You didn't make anything weird. I...I sometimes...you've noticed I'm sure...that some things kinda get...lost in translation. So I think that's all this was, yeah?"

Ben winced. Well, that was certainly underselling it. He was quite proficient at reading the wrong signals and, worse yet, pursuing them, so with a sheepish dip of his chin, he mumbled, "Yeah...I guess it just depends on how you translated it."

To his surprise, Ellie kept speaking, and this time about a date -- next Friday -- and gaze snapping up to meet with hers, he tried to school his features into that of nonchalance, but a small grin was already weathering away at his present façade.

"Brooklyn's fine," he agreed, praying he didn't sound too eager. "And if your apartment truly is just 'right there,' maybe you can show me your little knickknacks so I can prove once and for all that I do, in fact, have a normal, adequate amount of furnishings. My friends claim I live in a prison." Eyes twinkling, he laid his hand over hers, gently squeezing her palm against his thigh. "Speaking of words and their origins, did you know that bistro is possibly related to the French word bistouille? It's a northern thing -- guilty as charged, right? -- or rather, a colloquial term that means ‘bad alcohol.’" He grinned. "Is that truthful with your bistro, or no? 'Cause I'm not picky."

[knowltonsrangers]

theoretically pt.6

TURN!Benjamin Tallmadge x F!reader

[ part one , part two , part three , part four , part five ]

Throughout the night, Ben remained still as a tomb in the desk chair, chin resting in his hand as he stares distractedly at the cot. Watching as you wrapped yourself up in the thin sheet to attempt to seek heat amongst the brimming snowstorm outside.

He couldn’t stop himself, the thoughts spinning around in his mind wouldn’t allow him sleep, lest not anytime soon. The feeling of guilt ate him away, the waking thought that the General had left this decision to him, such a heavy responsibility terrified him. While he was eager to please his superior, he wanted do right by you, for whatever the purpose may be.

And what that meant, he wasn’t entirely sure. Subconsciously, he knew he could never just toss you into town when it came time to move camp. With how confused you were, he couldn’t bear the thought of you wandering aimlessly in streets you didn’t call home.

Why were his thoughts so loud in his head? Typically, on nights like these, he’s happy to welcome the opportunity to sleep, blue eyes heavy with exhaustion. Tonight, it seemed he’s not going to get much rest, if any.

“Hm,”

He ponders aloud, shifting uncomfortably in the wooden furniture. Ben hated to make rash decisions, he relished in the safety of careful and calculated moves, and yet, here he didn’t have that luxury, to make one that would hold your fate in his hands.

Hastily, he turns back to his desk, beginning to draw up a proper course of action, something he can slip Caleb without having to exchange any verbal words amongst the camp.

He needed a second opinion on this, and it wasn’t going to come from you.

“I like yer pants, y/n. Where��d ya find ‘em?”

Somehow, you ended up a shivering mess in the middle of the woods, hands running along your upper arms to try and regain some warmth. Ben and the newly met Caleb had been chattering about what to do, and their conversation seemingly ended as the brunette turns to you.

“Oh? Um—“

You turn around to try and see where the logo was, forgetting yourself for the moment.

“They’re probably from Aerie—oh. You don’t know what that is. Right.”

Ben gives Caleb a look as if to say: ‘I told you so!’ And the shorter man replies with a face of dumbfounded curiosity.

“Don’t ya know what you have here, Ben?”

He exclaims excitedly, shuffling a step closer to you as your teeth begin to chatter.

“And what might that be?”

“If you say someone who can help you win the war, it’s a hard no.”

Caleb visibly deflates, spinning around to give you the saddest look you’ve ever seen on a man, his bottom lip actually jutting out slightly.

“Aw, why the hell not?”

“‘Cause I don’t know anything about the American Revolution. I know enough to skate by an Early American History class, but not enough tiny details.”

You shrug.

“And besides. Not really a good idea to mess with the black hole I probably fell out of.”

“Wassat?”

“Oh, forget it, will you? I asked you for help, not to turn this into some sort of solution to the war.”

Ben interjects, white snow beginning to scatter around the fallen leaves and dirt.

“Can I please get a jacket, I am going to freeze my butt off.”

Caleb chuckles, immediately shrugging off his outer leather coat before Ben can properly react. He tosses the material around your body, your shoulders basically melting at how warm the heavy black jacket felt.

“O-oh, I didn’t mean—“

“S’alright. Ye looked like a leaf.”

Smiling in thanks, you happily sink a little deeper into the article of clothing.

“That problem being solved, what am I to do when camp is set to move in a few days?”

Ben’s hands come to his hips, almost impatiently.

“Washington wishes for a solution by tonight. Think you can get out of here for the time being?”

Caleb bobs his head, mulling the question over before giving a hum of approval.

“Yeah, I think so. Where do ya have in mind?”

“Wait, I’m leaving?”

A slight ring of worry laces your words, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

“Just for now, y/n. I haven’t quite decided what I am to do with you, but I need the General to think you’ve left.”

“Why’s that?”

“If I keep you here any longer—“

“Yer going to raise some eyebrows, miss.”

Caleb finishes.

“Oh? In a good way or a bad way?”

Ben, unamused, becomes even more so as Caleb throws his head back in a belt of laughter.

“I like ‘er! I wouldn’t mind a bit takin’ you across the sound for the night.”

“I like you too,”

Offering Caleb a small smile, you then swallow thickly.

“I know I don’t have a say.”

You next turn to Ben, watching the way his eyes read you inquisitively.

“But I trust you. And if you trust Caleb, and think it’s best, then I have to trust your decision.”

“y/n.”

The blonde sighs, hands falling from his hips as he takes a hesitant step forward.

“I trust Caleb with my life. But please, don’t think I’m doing this because I want to. I’m doing it because I don’t have any other options.”

You sniffle, looking up at him from under thick lashes.

“Fresh outta those?”

It makes your heart leap for joy when he finally gets one of your jokes.

“Yes. So it would seem.”

Caleb looks between the two of you, smiling to nobody but himself as he begins to outline his plan.

“I’ll keep her safe, Benny,”

He needn’t to ask, but it reassured him nonetheless.

“I’ll likely see you tomorrow night then, y/n. Be well.”

It’s the bitter air that was full of hesitation and fear, but you decided it was best to make the move on your own volition.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,”

You joke breathlessly, a slight skip in your step as you walk over to the Major, just as he turned to leave.

“That’s hardly any advice, I—“

He’s stunned speechless as you wrangle him into the quickest side hug you’ve ever given, squeezing him tight before letting him go.

Ben, unfairly, never had any time to respond.

“Ahem. That’s not very good advice, y/n. I would never do anything you would do.”

With an amused smile twitching on his lips, he bids you and Caleb farewell before heading back through the woods, likely to the General.

“Ready to go, y/n?”

Caleb asks from beside you, a slight tremor in your voice as you watch the Major until he disappears behind some trees.

“Yeah. Ready.”

[ms-march]

12 Days of Turn- “Cookies”

For those of you who may not be familiar with the young man in the corner, his name is Levi Tallmadge Ben’s 13-year-old little brother and the OC of @culper-spymaster​.  Her fic Band of Brothers (BoB) is absolutely amazing, so if you have not yet read it , please give it a look!  And I am sure by now you must have guessed that this is a crossover piece, it about the average length of a chapter and it was worked on by both Susan and myself.  We easily spent several days writing this for you all so if you like it please give it a like, comment, and/or reblog!

Levi was bored. Massively, and terribly bored. He and Zipporah had been in the damn wagon creeping by at a snail's pace along the wagon's trails for nearly an hour. The scenery didn't even change. It was the same trees and bushes all the way to Brookhaven. At least at the end of the journey, he'd get to see his father. His father. Who he hadn't seen in over a year. If only Benny and Sammy were there too, then they could have a real family holiday. But Ben was off fighting a war, and Sam was rotting away somewhere. It was just him and Zipporah for now. "Are we there yet?" Levi groaned ten minutes later. This journey was taking forever. Why did they have to take the wagon? "We're nearly there. Just a little farther," Zipporah chuckled patiently. As easy as it was to forget, Levi was just a normal 13-year-old boy, and it shone through, especially in moments like these. They continued on, but before long, the trees and bushes changed to small saltbox homes, large colonials, taverns, and shops. Finally, they were pulling in front of his grandfather Jim's house, a large colonial with pale shutters. His father was already waiting on the stoop, expectantly. Before the wagon even pulled to a full stop, Levi was jumping down and running towards his father. "Dad!" He exclaimed as he leaped into Nathaniel's arms. Zipporah stepped down from the wagon at a more subdued pace. "Levi, my boy! Look at you!" Nathaniel grinned, clutching his son tightly. "You're so tall! And your leg, it's good as new!" "Yeah, Zipporah was better than any doctor," Levi complimented as his father released him. "I'm sure she was," Nathaniel smiled sweetly, turning to Zipporah. "Hello, sweetheart." He leaned forward and gave Zipporah a deep kiss. Instantly, Levi's face scrunched up. "Ugh... I'm going to unpack the wagon," He grunted, turning his back to the lovesick couple, who simply chuckled.

Levi lugged the first of the trunks, likely Zipporah's, from the wagon, his father joining him shortly after watching him struggle with the trunk's weight. "How has she been, Levi?" Nathaniel asked under his breath.  It was purposefully quiet, obviously intended to reach Levi's ears only. "How has she really been?" Levi replied in the same tone, voice just above a whisper, "She has been dealing.  She visits with Anna as much as possible, and I have been trying to stay in and around the house if I can, just to make sure she doesn't worry too much about me. Auntie Loretta gave her job at Uncle Lucas's orchard, so that keeps her busy." Nathaniel sighed, helping his son move in the trunk into the foyer, glancing over to Zipporah waiting in the parlor. "I wish that she did not have to remain there," Nathaniel shifted his gaze down to Levi, "You as well.  I have already lost one of your brothers due to this damn war, it's also keeping me from seeing Benjamin, and now it must tear you from me as well." "It's ok, father. We'll be ok. I'll keep Zipporah safe, and don't worry about Benny. He can handle himself; Caleb will take care of him." Levi understood how Nathaniel felt.  He has seen things he never should have at his age because of the war.  He was becoming more and more used to being left behind because of this war.  But Levi did not say any of this.  He just offered his words of comfort, as empty as they may have been. Levi's struggle was not his father's and would give him no cause to think it was. Let him worry about Ben and pray for Sammy, but he will not be given any such strife by Levi. The men returned to the wagon, pulling out Levi's trunk and stacking it on top of Zipporah's.  Levi walked back to the doorway, intending to grab the last of the trunks, turning to search for his father.  Nathaniel stood just behind the parlor's line of sight, staring longingly into the room at Zipporah.  Levi rolled his eyes, groaning to himself, and called out behind him, walking out the door, "I'll get the last one, Dad! It'll be light, only presents." Levi lugged the light trunk from its position in the wagon, pulling it into his arms, and instantly regretted turning away his dad's help. Whatever Zipporah packed in here was as heavy as bricks.  As he was busy struggling with getting the trunk into his arms, a too-sweet familiar voice rang in his ears from a distance.  Unfortunately for Levi, he noticed it the same moment he pulled the trunk into his arms, promptly dropping it partly on his foot, causing a loud curse to slip out of his lips.

Adrienne Fairfax had decided that she hated taverns.  There was always someone to harass or someone harassing others.  First in York City with the young Tallmadge boy, now in Brookhaven with the tavern owner, and both over the cause of a room.  She ought to go to the local garrison and complain. There was not a single respectable establishment in this town, and so she had become frustrated enough to argue with the tavern owner in front of the building.  There was a loud, profane shout in the distance, a familiar shout.  Excusing herself from her heated argument with the man outside the tavern, Adrienne approached the uncovered wagon, and the raggedy little boy that had become more and more familiar to her stood there, leaning against the cart and cradling his foot, muttering another string of profanities under his breath.  Before Adrienne could approach him, a quaint brunette woman rushed from the house, a dirty blonde haired man following her to crowd around the poor boy as he tried to wave them away. "I'm fine, Dad. I just got distracted." "I thought you said it was light, Levi," the man, presumably his father, scolded. "I thought it was," Levi defended, "What did you put in there, Zipporah?" "Just the gifts," the brunette, who she could now identify as Zipporah, replied. The dirty blonde haired man, Levi's father, looked up, making eye contact with Adrienne and his demeanor changed immediately, "Zipporah, Levi, head inside." Zipporah followed his line of sight and nodded, placing a hand on Levi's shoulder, but he did not budge. His eyes, too, rested on Adrienne as he spoke. "Zipporah, head inside," he said, continuing before she could protest, "Everything is fine, just head inside." "Levi," Nathaniel whispered sharply, grasping Levi's arm tightly when the boy tried to stand, "This is not the time for more of your shenanigans." Levi did not reply, simply brushed him off with a brisk nod and began to limp over to Adrienne, grabbing her roughly by the arm and walking her out of earshot.  As they came to a stop, Levi spoke in a hushed and clipped tone, "What the hell do you think you're doing?" "I heard you scream; I came to see if you were alright," Adrienne replied indifferently. "Not that," he said, clenching his jaw, "What are you doing in Brookhaven?  This is borderline stalking me." "It is not!" she defended, a wave of sudden anger seeping into her tone, "My horses needed to be changed, one had an incident with the ferry, and now we are stuck here for the night." She huffed, her tone becoming short, "Believe me when I say I have no such desire to stay here." Levi examined her face for a moment in the silence before he cracked a grin and started to laugh, "You couldn't get a room, could you? That's why you were arguing at the tavern?" Adrienne flushed a rather pretty shade of pink from her embarrassment but offered no rebuttal. Levi, still allowing a short chuckle to escape from his lips, spoke, "You go get that fancy little carriage of yours taken care of, and I'll see what I can do about a place to stay." His eyes shifted behind him, to his father staring worriedly at his son as they discussed, "As soon as I go talk to my dad." Adrienne gave a short nod and returned to her carriage as he requested, leaving Levi to explain the predicament he just placed them in to his father.

Nathaniel took Levi in his arm as he returned, "Levi, what on earth could such a girl want with you?" "What? You don't think I can get a gal like her? I'm a catch," Levi responded, appalled. His father just looked back impassively. "Relax. Lady Fairfax just wanted to make sure I was ok." Nathaniel's eyes grew wide, and he bit back a gasp as he pulled Levi closer, dropping to a whisper, "Lady Fairfax?  What on earth could she want with you?" "Oh," Levi replied cheerfully, his voice remaining at regular volume, "We know each other.  I wouldn't say we're friends, but I like to think I'm growing on her. Like fungi." "You know each other?" Nathaniel whispered, shock clear in his voice, "Levi, what did you do?" "Just now or the first time I met her?" "I have a feeling that the answer 'just now' will do me far more good." "She was having troubles with the tavern owner in securing a room for the night, so I told her I would find somewhere for her to stay." "And where," Nathaniel began, his voice exhausted, "Exactly is that?" "With us, of course," Levi replied as if the answer should have been obvious. "Levi!" his father exclaimed, sighing, "Have you lost your mind?  She can't stay here with us." "Why not?" "I-" Nathaniel was stuttering over words, stumbling for an answer.  Finally, he found one as he began, "Because there aren't enough beds." "You and Zipporah can share," his father gaped at him, scandalized, "It would do you both some good." "Absolutely not.  That young lady cannot stay with us." "Who cannot stay with us?"  Zipporah's voice rang clear from the doorway, causing both of them to turn their attentions' to her. "The girl by the cart earlier," Nathaniel replied at the same time Levi did. "My friend."

At the word 'friend,' Zipporah's eyes flicked over to Levi, raising her eyebrow curiously. 'Friend' wasn't a term used often or lightly around the boy. Then furrowing her brow, she approached Nathaniel, wrapping her hands around the front opening of his coat, "And why can Levi's friend not stay with us, my dear?" Levi watched, amused, as he saw his father's mind go blank as she peered up at him, smiling sweetly.  He tried his best to protest, his attempts suddenly half-hearted, "Zipporah, she's a Lady, aristocracy." She hummed in acknowledgment, allowing her hands to run down from the top of his coat to the middle, "And how does that affect anything?" This time Nathaniel could do nothing but stutter and trip on his own tongue; Levi even bet that the rather loud snort that escaped him went unnoticed by the man as his mind short-circuited. "Yes," Zipporah hummed, "I think that we can more than accommodate another person here.  I will have my things placed in your room for the time being." She turned to Levi, still smiling sweetly, "How many nights would she be staying with us?" "Uh, good question," Levi shrugged, "Didn't ask." "Alright, well, you go fetch her," She turned back to Nathaniel, who appeared to be coming out of his trance, and smiled sweetly, "And we shall go prepare the rooms upstairs?" His father let out a pathetic noise that could have been a yes, or a whimper, causing Levi to crackle with the laughter that attempted to escape his lips.  Nathaniel cleared his throat, shaking his head clear before nodding firmly and heading into the house quickly with Zipporah strolling leisurely in behind him. As they disappeared into the house, Levi took running after Adrienne towards the tavern. Adrienne was talking to a footman in the livery stable beside the tavern when he arrived. "Alright, got it all sorted. You're staying with us. Zipporah got involved, and my dad sang like a canary. Or rather... didn't sing," Levi told her, as she finished her conversation, the footman walking off.

"Are you sure I am not imposing?" Adrienne asked him. "Nah. Just let me and Zipporah worry about my father. What Zipporah gets involved, he's a lovesick pushover," Levi responded, grinning as he started walking back to Grandpa Jim's with Adrienne. "Especially since he hasn't seen her in over a year." "Why isn't your dad in Setauket with you?" Adrienne asked him, curious as to why his father was living so far away from his loved ones. "There was...an incident in Setauket last year," Levi hedged slightly, thinking back to August of 1777. "One of the Redcoats in town basically went crazy. They were rounding up Patriots, and they were going to send them to the Jersey. But this soldier...he decided to defy orders and hang the Patriots instead. The outcome was one hanging, a dozen or so dead Continentals, and I was shot." Adrienne pulled to a stop in shock, eyes grown wide as she stared at the boy. "Surely you are not referring to any such soldier of His Majesty's Army?" Adrienne questioned. "You bet your fancy, pretty little ass, I am," Levi replied. "The soldier in question is now Captain of the Queen's Rangers." "And it truly happened?" she spectated, electing to ignore parts of his reply, "I have never been given cause to believe such tales, though I have heard many of misconduct before." "Of course, it happened, and I have the limp and scar on my leg to prove it," Levi replied as they approached the colonial home. "What other reason would my father have to live over an hour away from us?" Adrienne furrowed her brow slightly, careful with her questioning, "And they gave the officer, a presumed gentleman, in question a promotion for such abhorrent and disgraceful behavior?" "I'd use the term 'promotion' loosely. Same rank and he isn't even technically part of the Royal Army anymore. But no, he didn't get punished," Levi told her as they stood facing each other in front of Levi's Grandpa Jim's colonial. "Anyway, this is where we're staying." Adrienne had intended to question the boy further on what he meant by 'no longer a part of the Royal Army' but was stopped by the house itself. "Oh," she began, taking in the flat and simple facade. "It is certainly very," she trailed off for a moment before continuing, "American?" "Thanks," Levi grinned. "My Grandpa Jim built it." Adrienne hummed politely, thinking to herself, 'It certainly looks it.' Thankfully, she was saved from having to search for a polite reply by the dirty blonde man, Levi's father, who had come out to the porch to greet them.  She almost took pity on the man. He looked terrified, as severely as he attempted to hide such a thing.  He brought his hand around her but abstained from touching her silks, leaving his hand hovering just off from her back as he motioned with his other hand inside the house.  Levi bounded forward, rushing inside to a room full of casually chatting voices and the sound of a crackling fire, leaving Adrienne to stand alone in the hall with his father, as well as the horribly awkward tension rolling off the man in waves. "Lady Fairfax, I presume? Please make yourself at home," Nathaniel greeted the young lady, then with a sheepish smile, "I do hope my son hasn't been causing you too much trouble?" "Only the necessary kind," she assured him as warmly as she could, "Though, dare I say that he might be incapable of avoiding most of the trouble he encounters." Adrienne gave the man a slight curtsy as her mother taught her to greet him properly, "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Tallmadge." "Please, call me Nathaniel. Zipporah should be upstairs setting up your room if you would like to go get yourself settled," Nathaniel informed her, gesturing up the stairs. "Your room will be the first on the right." She nodded to him politely and made her way up the stairs, aware of his stare on her back the entire time.  The door to the bedroom was open, finding it exactly where Nathaniel told her it would be.  The room was positioned so that she would hear any and all footsteps in the upstairs hall and on the stairs, both a blessing and a curse. There was the brunette, Zipporah, dressed in a somewhat pretty floral pierrot jacket and a dark green colored quilted petticoat.  She was humming a jaunty tune to herself as she unfolded and tucked bedsheets, stopping in her actions to look over her shoulder at the sound of Adrienne in the doorway. "You must be Levi's friend. I am Zipporah, Nathaniel's fiancee," Zipporah introduced herself. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady…?" Zipporah raised an eyebrow in question, waiting for Adrienne to finish the introduction. "Fairfax," Adrienne offered, "Lady Adrienne Fairfax of Virginia." She made sure to give the woman before her the same courtesy given to Nathaniel, greeting her with a curtsy and a nod of her head in acknowledgment. Zipporah went back to preparing the bed. "I was rather shocked to hear that Levi had a friend, let alone a female friend," Zipporah told Adrienne casually. "He's a 13-year-old boy, after all. Half his mind still thinks girls are gross, while the other half is saying girls are pretty. So I am rather curious as to how you two came to meet."   "He tried to bribe me out of my room in York city," Adrienne replied plainly in her sweet tone, leaning against the doorway slightly, "An endeavor in which he did not succeed.  And then proceeded to act as my valet for the duration of my stay in the city." Zipporah let out a breathy laugh. "He didn't steal your key and lock you out of your room, so call yourself fortunate," she chuckled, shaking her head at the boy's antics as she tucked in the bed's sheets. "Likely because my key was not on my person," Adrienne offered the woman, "It was in the possession of my godfather, Lord Howe, who I had come to York city to visit." At that, Zipporah's head snapped to look at Adrienne, eyes wide. "Lord Howe? As in William Howe, the British Royal Army general?" Adrienne smiled at the recognition, affirming her supposition, "Yes, Madam.  The very same." Zipporah was impassive for a moment before shaking her head with a small smile, snorting in a very unladylike fashion. "And suddenly everything makes sense," she muttered under her breath, almost too low for Adrienne to hear. Adrienne furrowed her brow, approaching slowly so that they were no longer speaking freely across the small room, "I am afraid I do not follow.  What precisely makes sense now?" Zipporah's eyes flicked up at her in shock, the gears in her head working viciously. "Sorry, that is way above my station of knowledge and definitely above yours," Zipporah told her after a moment. "If you were meant to know, you'd know already." "And who," Adrienne spoke low in tone, stepping too close to Zipporah for the brunette's own comfort zone, "Says that I do not." "The fact that you had to ask says you do not, my Lady," Zipporah stated simply. "Funny," she replied impartially, "I was under the assumption that the youngest Mr. Tallmadge was assisting his elder brother by visiting a few friends in the city.  Few as they may be." Adrienne smiled innocently at her, "But what would I know." "When it comes to Levi, helping his brother is all the information you need to know. Trust me, the less you know, the better," Zipporah sighed tiredly, suddenly exhausted. "Well, he has done a miserable job at that," Adrienne laughed quietly before smiling comfortingly at Zipporah, "But it takes one to know one, I suppose." "He's done better than you might think. Levi has a good sense of one's character. But what do I know about all this? I'm just the mom," Zipporah shrugged. "I am sure," Adrienne agreed, "Which is why I will not be mentioning to the Major how it took less than five minutes to get him to admit to such activity." Clearing her throat, Adrienne ran her hands over her immaculate silk skirts, flattening non-existent wrinkles, "The trunk needs to be partially unpacked. The Mulberry silk doesn't take well to being closed up for too long.  If there is anything I could do to help you, please let me know; otherwise, I think it best to excuse myself and leave you to finish here." "Well, they're your clothes. Make yourself useful and unpack them, then, young lady," Zipporah responded in an unintentional 'Mom' voice. Adrienne, who had already turned towards the door, turned back around to look at Zipporah, who now had her back facing the blonde, with her mouth slightly agape.  Zipporah looked over her shoulder, raised an eyebrow at the young woman, and then pointedly looked at Adrienne's traveling chest.  Now, Adrienne was aware that she had offered her assistance, but she had not expected the other woman to take her up on the offer.  She hesitantly approached the trunk, opening it as she attempted to keep her skirts from gathering dirt by brushing the floor.  Crouching down with skirts in hand, Adrienne unpacked the fussy silks with perhaps a bit more struggle than she would have liked, courtesy of her hat.  As she did her best to unpack, Adrienne could hear the humming as Zipporah returned to the sheets, noting when it stopped more by the intense stare the brunette had fixed on her back as she watched the blonde struggle unpack than the lack of sound. "You doing ok over there?" Zipporah asked, not taking her eyes off the girl. "Yes, of course," Adrienne replied politely, utterly unaware of just how out of breath she sounded.  This should be easy, but the bending and interference of her skirts, lace, and accessories was proving to make the task quite challenging. "Alright," Zipporah answered skeptically. "Just looking like you aren't used to unpacking your own trunk." Adrienne flushed a light pink across her cheeks and looked sheepishly to Zipporah, knowing there were no words that could defend her in this situation.  Adrienne may have been some form of great lady, but that mattered very little in this quaint country house. "If you really need the help, I can go get Levi to help you unpack. Sorry to say, we don't have any other ladies in the household," Zipporah offered sweetly, behind a poorly hidden, devilish smirk. Adrienne's flush suddenly turned a very light pale at the idea.  If there was one thing that she had learned from her week with the young boy, it was that he could be absolutely relentless in his teasing.  Especially whenever it was something that any average person would have been perfectly capable of, not being so squeamish as to shy away from it.  But before she replied, declining the offer, Adrienne weighed her choices.  She could stay here herself and attempt to unpack the trunk, leaving her in an incredibly disheveled state when she returned to her hosts, or she could bite the bullet and suffer through the teasing from the younger boy but at least maintain some sense of dignity, if not propriety.  With a slightly defeated sigh, Adrienne conceded, "That would be much appreciated, Madam.  Thank you." Instantly, Zipporah raised an eyebrow in surprise. She hadn't been expecting that. She had been expecting the younger girl to decline out of pride. Didn't really matter to Zipporah, she got to be entertained either way, but now she would have endless enjoyment from seeing Levi having to touch ladies undergarments. Oh lord, when Benjamin and Caleb heard of this…. "As you wish," Zipporah said, inclining her head before sweeping from the room. However, she wasn't going to go all the way downstairs, just to come back up. Standing at the top landing, she leaned over the railing and yelled. "Levi! Get your butt up here!!" Adrienne stumbled at the sudden yelling as she attempted to rise to her feet, almost sweeping her flat onto the floor.  To say that she was unused to such noise and ruckus would be acceptable in any other place. Women and men of her breeding were usually far more gentile and subdued in their tone and volume.  But she allowed the complaint to slip through her mind, keeping such comments to herself, opting instead to reach out and catch herself, her skin getting pale again, just as it was regaining some color. 'So much for dignity,' she thought. With loud stomping, Levi came stomping up the stairs, pulling to a stop on the top landing beside Zipporah, an irritating look on his face. "What the hell, Zipporah?" "Help Lady Fairfax unpack her trunk," Zipporah ordered him, none too gently. Levi's eyes quickly flicked from Adrienne to Zipporah and back. "Why? Can't she do it?" He shrugged, annoyed. It was just a trunk. Any normal person could unpack a trunk. "You're doing it because I'm telling you to do it. Now go," Zipporah ordered sternly, pointing to the trunk beside Adrienne in the guest room. Levi let out a dramatic groan before turning and stomping over to Adrienne. Adrienne had seen such behavior from the boy before, mostly complaining about how his arms ached from carrying 'absurd amounts of bags and boxes' whenever Lord Howe and her went out to peruse the city's shops. Still, this time Adrienne did not find herself playfully annoyed.  This time she truly felt as if she was the annoyance, however clear as it may be that Levi was pulling their leg.  She stared silently as he approached the trunk, moving a step away from her. Crouching down, he started pulling clothes from the trunk. Quilted petticoats, silk petticoats, jackets, gowns, panniers, chemise, cloaks, muff, hats, and lace. All types of clothes. Some looked the same. Others looked different. Levi didn't quite understand why she had to have two or three petticoats that looked nearly identical. He pulled out another garment and looked at it curiously. "What the hell is this?" Adrienne looked down at the pure white piece that was being held in the boy's hands, a soft linen chemise, and she blanched, practically fainting at the very idea of such a thing being put on display.  It would make sense that he had never seen one before, and surely the boy did not know that such an item was meant to be handled discretely. Adrienne's floundering suddenly made her wish she had a fan behind which she could hide, but of course, her fans were packed underneath the rest of the garments. "My apologies, I thought I had gotten the last of those already." "That doesn't answer my question. Actually, you seem to actively be avoiding my question," Levi responded, his piercing blue eyes flicking up to burrow into Adrienne. Zipporah stifled a laugh behind her hand from her spot against the door jam, where she was watching the exchange. "So I repeat, what the hell is it?" Adrienne braced herself against the bed as she replied as quickly and meekly as possible. "It is a," she paused, swallowing in an attempt to keep her wits about her before she fainted back onto the bed out of sheer embarrassment, "Chemise.  It is a lady's chemise." Levi immediately let out a loud yelp, dropping the chemise. Zipporah tried to hold back her laughs, she really did. But nope, she couldn't do it. The laughs came bubbling out, and soon, she was laughing loudly, with only the door jam holding her up. Levi glared over at her, eyes narrowed in accusation. "Zipporah, did you just play me?" "No, no. Lady Fairfax really does need help unpacking," Zipporah laughed, finally taking control of herself. "Then you can do it," Levi growled, getting up and stomping off to his room across the hall, irritation, and embarrassment rolling off him in waves. The bedroom door slammed loudly behind him, the silence echoing off the walls afterward. Adrienne, attempting to diffuse the tension, spoke softly to Zipporah, "Well, I think that went well.  All things considered." "For Levi, definitely," Zipporah chuckled as she reentered the room and crouched down next to the trunk. She picked up the discarded garments and started putting them away in drawers. "Thank you," Adrienne offered, sitting on the edge of the bed till the lightheadedness went away. "You'll excuse me," she suggested as she sat, feeling bad for leaving the woman to the clothing. "I am afraid I'm feeling incredibly faint, and I would be terribly embarrassed to pass out in front of you." She had minimal dignity left, but by god, she would cling to it as best she could. Zipporah nodded sympathetically. "Take the time you need. Is there anything I can do for you?" Zipporah asked, looking up at the girl. Zipporah supposed she wouldn't give her too much more of a hard time, she probably did have a long day. Adrienne knew her answer should be a glass of Madeira. She had heard enough from McHenry during her Christmas at Valley Forge to know that it was a fine replenishment for the blood and often helped best when an individual was faint.  But she did not ask, knowing that she had asked plenty already. "Oh, no, thank you.  I do not want to be a further burden to you, Mrs. Tallmadge." "It's not a problem. To be fair, we have tortured you enough for one evening. The least we can do is offer you some comforts," Zipporah responded, putting the last of the clothes away. "However, if you'd prefer to be left alone and get settled, I can leave you be." "Oh, I would hate to be rude," Adrienne began, smiling weakly, "But I would also hate to take time away from you all sharing it with each other." To be honest, she was desperate to curl up in her dressing robe with her books and forget all that had occurred today. "I truly appreciate that," Zipporah told Adrienne earnestly. "You look exhausted. I will leave you be." Zipporah nodded in her direction, then swept from the room, leaving Adrienne alone.

Adrienne sat in the bed, sheets haphazardly thrown over her legs, candlelight burning over her shoulder as she read. The sun had begun setting already in the window, casting shadows over the room that went unnoticed.  She barely noticed the soft knock on the door, her attention being drawn by the unusually soft voice belonging to Levi. 'He must be terrified to enter now,' she mused, pulled her dressing gown closer around her as she closed her book. "Yes?" she called softly to the still-closed door. "Can I come in?" His voice was soft and slightly sheepish. "You mean am I decent?" she teased, continuing tenderly, "Because if so, the answer is yes.  You may come in." The bedroom door quietly opened, and the boy stood awkwardly in the doorway, shuffling on his feet and avoiding eye contact. It made him look pitifully small and young. "Would you mind helping me with something?" He asked, his hands fidgeting behind his back. "Depends. What is it?" She bookmarked her page with a ribbon and placed the book in her lap. "I am afraid you might have to wait for me to get dressed again." "That's fine. I want to surprise Zipporah and my dad with Christmas cookies when they get back from their date...but I don't know how to make them. Or anything else, for that matter," Levi told her, finally glancing up at her with those big, blue eyes. Adrienne's heart melted slightly at the sweeter side of the boy; she sympathized with his request. She remembered making many a gift for her own parents, made mostly out of things that made her mother very cross with her.  She had lost count of how many curtains she had terrorized for the same cause. "Of course," she nodded, "But I am afraid it will be a learning experience for both of us." There was a pause before Adrienne continued, cautiously, "What exactly would be appropriate for a kitchen, as far as attire goes?" Levi let out a bark of laughter, but with her, not at her. "Something casual, something you wouldn't mind getting dirty. But don't worry, we have aprons. I'll meet you downstairs," Levi grinned, turning on his heel and sprinting excitedly from the room. Adrienne huffed, forcing herself from the warmth of the bed to the dresser.  Usually, she would not have to assemble her own outfits, but she never minded doing so.  Adrienne enjoyed her clothes far too much to ever complain about such a thing.  After lots of searching, she found a simple blue long-sleeved gown, donning a warm winter lace fichu, short entanglements, and a light blue sash around the waist.  Adrienne left her hair in the smoothly assembled half-up style that Zipporah had offered gladly to do for her and descended down the stairs. "Levi?" she called out, the house silent besides the crackling of the fires, providing warmth to the house. Upon entering the kitchen, Adrienne saw Levi in the corner, pulling a large bag of flour from the pantry. He glanced quickly over his shoulder at her, seeing she was fully dressed in casual wear. "Apron is on the chair if you want it. Once you got that taken care of, can you get a fire started in the oven?" Levi grumbled out, dragging the flour across the floor towards the counter and the bowl sitting on top. Adrienne approached the chair, wrapping the apron around her waist as she watched him struggle with the flour. "Do you always take on more than you can carry, or is that just today?" "I'm the youngest of three boys, both are...were soldiers and Yale graduates. This is totally normal. I got a lot to live up to. I have to make a name for myself somehow," Levi explained, pulling a knife out to cut the top of the bag open. "And will you be attending Yale as well then, Mr. Tallmadge?" Adrienne asked, still watching him from where she stood as he worked. "That was the plan, before the war. But since the war broke out, I haven't really been to school. So right now...I essentially only have a fifth-grade education," Levi replied, setting the knife down and hefting the bag of flour into his arms. As he went to dump the flour into the bowl, instead of pouring in moderation, the whole bag dumped out into the bowl with an ungracious flour cloud. "Oops," Levi coughed, waving the flour cloud out of his face, his whole head and torso coated in flour. Adrienne laughed, ignoring the light flour dusting her skirts and bodice received, having fun at Levi's expense. "You know, I think that perhaps that a bit too much face powder, but if you are certain, I can go grab my rouge, and I am certain you will be very handsome, Mr. Tallmadge." "Are you calling me ugly? I'm a dream, a total catch, the complete package. Girls are beating down my front door," Levi responded, dramatically scandalized at the insinuation that he wasn't already handsome. "Can you start the fire in the oven while I get the eggs and powdered coriander seed?" "I would love to," Adrienne began, laughing gleefully at the younger boy's antics, "Just one question.  How does one light a fire?" "There's some flint in the top drawer, and kindling is by the fireplace. Just put the kindling in the oven and spark the flint," Levi explained, chuckling slightly. "Right, spark the flint," she trailed off, "And how would one do that exactly?" Levi sighed, rolling his eyes slightly. "Ok, change of plans. I'll start the fire, and you get the eggs and coriander seed. Coriander seed is in the pantry, eggs are in the cellar," Levi told her, pointing to the pantry on the side of the kitchen. Adrienne nodded, heading first to the cellar with a candlestick.  She wasted no time down in the dark underground storage space behind the house, climbing back out with several eggs carefully put into a basket.  Entering the kitchen once more, she placed the basket on the counter atop of a small mountain of flour that had seemingly missed its intended target. Next, Adrienne pulled out the glass jar of the Coriander seeds and placed them on the table as well, chuckling as Levi cried out triumphant when the fire sparked to a comfortable roar. Levi turned back to Adrienne, nodding in approval as he saw the eggs and the coriander seeds. Turning to the countertop, he pulled a slightly floury cookbook towards him. "So...we need sugar, and the coriander seeds need to be powdered," he read, brushing the flour from the pages. "If you want to powder the seeds, I'll get the sugar. The mortar and pestle are on the counter, right there." Adrienne took a moment to cheer as she turned to find the bowl and tool.  This she knew precisely how to do.  Her father used to make his own various herbal concoctions as experiments and oftentimes would let her help him.  She could distinctly remember that he would wrap his hands around hers and walk her through the motions of the tool while tucked away in one of Belvoir's greenhouses.  She leaned over Levi to look at the recipe in order to discern the amount required, not noticing just how close she was to the boy as she peered down at the flour-coated book. Instantly, Levi flinched away from the close contact. He hated fast movements or unpredictable movements. He stumbled a bit before regaining composure, clearing his throat. "Yeah, I'll just...get the sugar," he rasped out awkwardly, turning his back on her and entering the pantry for the bag of sugar. Adrienne furrowed her brow but let the boy go, happy to sing softly to herself as she crushed the seeds, motions careful and well-rehearsed, constantly shifting eyes to the door Levi had disappeared through, then back to the cookbook and her hands as they worked.  She was attentive this time, to when the door creaked back open, her singling trailing off as Levi entered. "At least if this one gets everywhere, it's delicious," Levi commented as he pulled the smaller bag of sugar out on his shoulder, slamming it down on the countertop beside the bowl full of flour as he stepped up next to Adrienne. This time it was Adrienne's turn to flinch away as a small pile of flower rose.  She was certain that it could be played off as simply being startled by the sudden slam. Men loved to believe that women were fragile, delicate little things, so there was no reason she should not get away with it. "Levi-" Adrienne began before cutting herself off. She was likely not going to like the answer to her question, so she decided to leave the boy alone for the time being. Once again, Levi took the knife and slit open the top of the bag. This time when he poured it, though, he took hold of the top corner, hoping to be able to control the moderation slightly better. Once he had the appropriate amount, he set the bag on the ground. "Let's see if I can crack these eggs without making a mess, shall we?" Levi laughed as he picked up one of the eggs. He slammed the egg on the edge of the bowl, way too hard, causing the whole egg to crumble and egg yolk and egg white to get all over the countertop. "Oops...again," Levi mumbled, the shell's remnants crushed between his fingers. Adrienne tried only barely to stop herself from full out laughing at him. "You will ruin all the eggs like that,  are eggs not usually cracked carefully?  Because if so you, have done a miserable job." Levi glared up at her. "Yeah, they are," He grumbled. "But I'm not particularly good at the 'gentle' aspect of things. If you need someone roughed up, though, I'm your man." He grabbed the basket of eggs and pushed it towards Adrienne. "You give it a shot, then, if you're so skilled," He mocked, crossing his arms. Adrienne huffed, moving the basket even closer to her before taking an egg out and attempting to crack it, but unlike Levi, her attempt was so gentle the egg did not crack at all.  She huffed and tried again, still nothing, and then she repositioned herself and hit it harder against the counter, causing it to shatter and splatter all over Adrienne's hands and Levi's front.  Adrienne cracked a grin at him as he was now covered with flour, some light sugar, and now two eggs, "Well, I think it is certainly clear that you are closer to becoming a cookie than whatever is inside that bowl." "As long as we don't put me in the oven, I'm fine with that," Levi shot back. "Though it's clear that neither of us is skilled at egg cracking." He picked up another egg to try again, posing his hand over the edge of the bowl. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he tapped the egg against the bowl. A slight crack appeared in the shell of the egg, causing a small smile to blossom on Levi's face. Prying his nails into the crack, like he'd seen Zipporah do many times, he slowly pried the two halves of the eggshell apart, the yolk and white sliding goopily into the bowl with a loud plop. Adrienne cried out with a cheer, causing Levi's smile to spread a bit wider as she moved back across the table to hand him the cookbook. "So, Mr. Baking Extraordinaire, what will you have me doing next?" she teased, wiping her yolk covered hands on the apron tied around her waist before plopping herself onto the chair at the side of the table. "Have I complained about how exhausting this is yet?" she asked, "I hate to sound repetitive." "Actually, you have not. So you're allowed a complaint," Levi teased with a grin as he cautiously cracked one more egg into the bowl. He looked over the bowl to the cookbook being offered to him. "We need some butter and a cup of milk. The butter is still in the churn, easy enough. Just scoop it out and plop it in. Milk is in the cellar. Then it says we need to knead it together." "Ok," she sighed, rising to her feet once again, "I will take the cellar and leave you to your churn." She smirked playfully at him as she made her way to the door, skirts dragging behind her as she took a candle once more and headed out the back door.  The temperature had either dropped significantly, or that kitchen was hotter than it seemed. Adrienne was practically shaking as she collected the milk, thinking to herself, 'It better not be frozen.  That would seriously dampen my mood at the moment.' Success was found when the milk was indeed still a liquid. She toted one small carton up the stairs with some slight struggle. "Mr. Tallmadge, I believe I have-" she cut off as he stared at Levi, frustratingly scraping at the churn, "Are you alright?" "Yeah, there's just some butter stuck to the bottom. This would be so much easier if I had already hit my growth spurt," He grumbled as he tried to scrape the butter from the bottom, plopping the little bits he could with the large pile of butter that was already sitting on the countertop. Adrienne approached the table, placing the jug of milk down on the table. "Do we really need this much butter?" she asked, "It seems a bit excessive to me, but what do I know." "The recipe says a pound of butter. Pick that up. Does it feel like a pound?" Levi replied nonchalantly. Adrienne opened her mouth to speak but promptly closed it, hesitating for a moment before doing as she was told.  She turned to Levi, awkwardly cupping the butter in her hands, "I have no idea.  The only experience I have with weight measuring is marzipan, money, and jewelry." Levi shrugged. "Does it matter? A pound of feathers, a pound of bricks, either way, it's still a pound," He stated logically as he stood up, wiping his hands off on his breeches. "Fair enough," she sighed, "In that case, I think that we have enough." She awkwardly dropped it into the bowl and wiped her hands off on the borrowed apron. "So," Adrienne motioned at the flour-covered table, "What is next?" "Put in the milk, and mix it all together. Easy peasy," Levi said simply as he grabbed the milk jug. Adrienne took a step back as he did so.  Levi cast her a judging glance, and she replied, "Just pointing out that you have not had a great track record tonight, and while you may have very little salvageable dignity at the moment, I still have plenty." Levi paused a moment, deciding whether or not to be insulted. Finally, he shrugged. "Ok, valid point," he nodded. He grasped the jug firmly, gathered himself, and then poured a cup or so of milk into the bowl. As he pulled the jug back, in his haste, the milk sloshed over the edge of the jug and onto his face, soaking his bangs. He blinked his eyes rapidly against the milky onslaught. A glare was sent Adrienne's way by Levi as she laughed at his plight.  The boy was quite a sight now and would undoubtedly need to seriously clean up before his father and Zipporah returned.  Adrienne stepped back again as she spoke, "I stand corrected. There is no dignity left to be recovered, Mr. Tallmadge." "I would glare, but you...might have a point. I never did say I could cook. Which is why I asked for your help. You're a girl. You're supposed to know these things," Levi stated, thinking this was the most apparent train of thought. "If I was supposed to know this, I assure you between my parents, maids, governess, and tutors, I would have been taught to full proficiency." She looked him up and down, trying not to laugh, "If it makes you feel any better, I think you are doing an excellent job for your first time cooking!" "That actually does make me feel better, thank you," Levi said as he pulled out a wooden spoon. Dipping the spoon into the bowl, he started to mix all the ingredients together into a dough. With the bowl wedged against his chest, he used all the muscles he had to turn each separate ingredient, the milk, the eggs, the flour, the sugar, into a single product. Adrienne took this moment to sit down at the table for a moment's rest, watching him tiredly.  Watching as he began to shape the cookies, "How long should they bake?" she asked quietly, not wanting to disturb him. "Only 15 minutes," Levi told her as he pulled out a baking stone and placed small lumps of sugar cookie dough on the stone. He ripped off a small chunk of dough and held it out to Adrienne. "Dough?" She looked up at him, her face unintentionally confused in the way a naive child might be. "What for?" she asked, genuinely curious about his offer.  Her mother had never so much as allowed anything even slightly imperfect on her dining tables, and to be honest, Adrienne could not locate the kitchens in her own house without asking someone for guidance.  Levi looked at her equally confused, so Adrienne explained, "My mother never let me even venture into the kitchens, this might be the first time I have seen cookie dough, so I genuinely do not know why it is being offered." "Damn. And I thought my childhood was depressing," Levi responded, still holding the dough out. "Well, you have no choice now. I am forcing this upon you. Raw cookie dough is the best thing to ever grace human existence." He practically pushed the dough under Adrienne's nose. Adrienne leaned back in the chair to avoid the dough touching her skin, laughing lightly as she accepted the piece from his hands as she replied, "There is plenty more where that came from. My childhood was one of many rules and prying eyes." She cautiously broke off an even smaller piece in her fingers.  Her face lit up, shifting from amusement to delight once she tried it. "I will concede to you this time; cookie dough is absolutely a delicacy in my books now, Mr. Tallmadge." "See, told you," Levi grinned as he popped his own small piece of dough into his mouth before continuing to put small, little lumps of dough on the baking stone. Once there was no dough left, and the stone was filled, he picked it up and walked over to the oven set into the brick next to the fireplace. "Mind opening the door for me," Levi asked, his hands full with the baking stone. "Of course," Adrienne jumped to her feet, walking quickly over to the fireplace that was set into the side of the kitchen. She opened the small door that was the baking oven. Levi slowly slid the baking stone into the oven, closing the door behind it. "Alright, we'll check on it in 15 minutes," Levi told Adrienne as he stepped back from the oven. He went over to one of the chairs and slumped down into it. "Whoo, I'm exhausted now." Adrienne nodded, "I told you that about 30 minutes ago.  This is exhausting." A moment of silence passed before Adrienne spoke up again, "Would you find it horribly impolite if I went to go fetch my book?" "Nah, go right ahead," Levi said as he laid his head down for a second. Just a second, he promised. Adrienne did as she promised, ascending the stairs in search of her book, which he could not help but read on her way down.  Except, reading in motion always made her nauseous, so she figured she could sit down on the bed and read a page.  Or two. Voltaire's philosophy was always so entrancing to the blonde.

"What in Heaven and Earth is going on here?" Levi stumbled out of his chair as the booming voice of his father rang through the kitchen, barely catching himself on the countertop. Righting himself, he spun around to see both his dad and Zipporah standing in the kitchen's doorway. "Dad! You're home early!" Levi looked from his dad and Zipporah to the mess of a kitchen around him. Flour everywhere, sugar everywhere, puddles of milk, eggshells, egg whites, and egg yolks all over the countertops and floor. And Levi didn't look much better. "Umm...I can explain," Levi stated awkwardly, his hands fidgeting and feet shuffling. "I sure hope so, young man," Nathaniel responded sternly, crossing his arms and not taking his eyes off his youngest son. "Umm….I just thought... I'd surprise you and Zipporah with Christmas cookies. They're still baking, though. I wrangled Adrienne into helping me," Levi told his father, refusing to look at him. Instantly, both Nathaniel and Zipporah's faces softened. "Let's see how well you did then, shall we?" Zipporah said with a sweet, gentle smile as she went over to the oven and opened it up, pulling out the baking stone. The cookies were just about done, so she pulled them out and set them on the counter to cool. "These look delicious, Levi," Zipporah picking one up and taking a delicate bite. "Not bad for a first try." "You like them?" Levi looked up at Zipporah hopefully. "I do. You and Lady Fairfax did an excellent job, thank you," Zipporah said, kissing him on the forehead, making a face as she pulled away. "But you really need a bath, young man." Both Nathanial and Levi started laughing at the same time. She wasn't wrong. Levi was a mess. Zipporah ushered the boys upstairs, making sure to leave Levi to be put to bed under his father's care, knowing full well that no matter how filthy he is, he will find a way to smuggle himself to bed without washing up first and soil all his sheets.  She knocked quietly on Adrienne's bedroom door, creaking it open when no response was received to find the candles still burning, but the girl fast asleep atop the pillows, apron wrapped around her waist and a long streak of flour going down the side of her face. Zipporah removed the filthy apron, gently wiping away the flour from the younger girl's face and snuffing out the candles in the room.  She chuckled to herself at the book in the blonde's hands as she marked the page and placed it away.  Finally, before closing the door, she looked back at the girl, shaking her head at the antics of the two young people.  Her hesitation allowed Nathaniel to sneak up behind her as she was winding down. "They are to bed now, my dear," he stood directly behind her, placing his hands tenderly on her waist, "I think it is time we retire as well." Turning their backs on the sleeping children, Adrienne in her room and Levi in his, Zipporah and Nathaniel walked silently, hand in hand, to their bedroom down the hall, the door snapping shut behind them. The only noise left in the silent home was the breathing of the children and creaking of the old house.

[regretless-spy-and-culper-master]

Halemadge week day five - Teachers and Reunions

“Finish reading Cato for next week and try to get a head start on your essay, I know it will make for a long weekend but you will thank me later. Class dismissed.”

Nathan watched as his students ran out into the fall air, chuckling as he heard the sound of young teens lingering in the schoolyard, playing various made up games. He sat down at his desk and started looking through old papers he ought to have handed back yesterday.

A student ran back in, his cheeks flushed from exercise, “professor Hale?”

“Yes? What is it James?”

“Well I know you probably have work to do but you see me and a few others-“

“A few others and I,” Nathan corrected.

“Sorry. The others and I wanted to have a rematch from a competition we started at noon break. Ezra had to leave and we no longer have even teams. Would you-“

“Hey James!” A voice called out, “you hey professor Hale to join us yet?”

Nathan chuckled and checked the time on his beloved pocket watch. “I suppose I have enough time of a game.”

He rose from his desk and followed James outside to join the other boys.

Friend Hale,

I was gladdened to receive word of your recent position as the new school master of Moodus. I hope you have settled in and are finding happiness.

I look forward to your return correspondence.

Ever yours,

Damon.

“Good work today class and might I send a heartfelt congratulations to all of you on your recent essay. With a week and half break left until break I expect you will continue to put in your best efforts. Class dismissed.”

Nathan watched as his students left, listening to them chatting amongst themselves, many hoping that “professor Hale will go easy on grading the last assignments.”

He sighed and sat down to finish the reading for tomorrow’s lesson.

Eventually the warmth of the stove started to fade and so did the sunlight. Nathan sighed and closed his notebook, sealed his inkwell and finished for the day.

He shivered against the cool air as he locked the classroom door. “Didn’t think it would get this cold so soon. Suppose fall will come early and winter will be bitter.” He chuckled at his own remark, “still the son of a farmer.”

He pulled his coat tighter around himself and listened to the soft sound of his shoes against the path. His attention was caught by a young couple standing in a doorway of one of houses. They lingered close to one another, neither wanting to be the first to part.

His thoughts returned to his days at Yale and summers in Setauket spent with Ben; to the day’s when they never left each other’s side, to the days of companionship.

It wasn’t that Nathan was unhappy, he had gotten lucky with this job, it was just that he was lonely. The people of the small town were all friendly, the family he boarded with were welcoming and treated him as one of their own. Even with the friendly faces that attempted to make their new school master feel like he was a part of the community Nathan still felt like something was missing. The normally social man hadn’t made a real connection yet and those he had from his family and Yale were hard to contact.

He found himself brushing away a tear as he walked on and was thankful for a cool wind that blew through at the moment. The wind he consoled himself, you are not tearing up Hale. It was only the wind and a natural response to an irritant.

Who was he kidding, he needed someone who understood him to talk to.

He needed Ben.

Friend Tallmadge,

May I send you my heartfelt congratulations on your teaching position. I do hope you are happy in your position and are able to surround yourself with the company of those who bring you joy.

I have found myself oft’ longing for our days in school again.

Ever.yours,

Pythias

Ben frowned at his class, watching them with a steely gaze. ”I will not repeat myself again. When you are in this classroom you all are to conduct yourself in a manor that is becoming of gentlemen. I will not tolerate ragamuffin behavior in my schoolhouse. You are to get that out of your system outside at noon break. Am I clear?”

The class nodded and mumbled apologies to Ben.

“Better. Now,” Ben smiled as he set down his book. “It would be a shame to waste such a lovely God given day inside. I propose we take our reading outside this afternoon. Does that suit all of you?”

He was met with cheers of various pitches. He chuckled and led the students out to the yard.

Friend Hale,

I do pray that you are well. The cadence of your last correspondence was unlike you. It held notes of melancholy that did not reflect the man I once knew. I do hope all is well and you and your family still have your health.

I have been missing you dearly and am hoping that with the harvest season upon us and schools closing in observance of this critical time, that you may find time to join me for a thanksgiving. Or, if it is less burdensome that I may journey to see you. If I do not hear from you I shall assume you do not have the time for such visitions. Though I pray we might be able to be reunited in happiness once more.

Ever yours,

Damon.

Friend Tallmadge,

I am sorry for having troubled you. It was no more than a passing bout of distemperment.

It would please me greatly to visit with you and as my students have been dismissed until after the epiphany I am able to journey to you. I will leave day after next and hope to arrive by mid week.

Ever yours,

Pythias.

Natnan knocked on the Tallmadge’s door, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to warm them.

A tall man who bore great resemblance to Ben opened the door. “Yes? Nathan! Good to see you lad. Please,” he stepped aside, “come in. Won’t you join me for a glass of cider while we wait for Benjamin to come home.”

Nathan smiled warmly, nodding in response to the Reverend. “Thank you Reverend Tallmadge. It’s good to see you again and cider sounds lovely. It’s rather brisk out there.”

“Winter’s bound to be hard this year.”

Nathan nodded “we were lucky. It’s been a good harvest.”

Nathaniel handed Nathan a mug and sat down next to him. “There you go lad.”

“Thank you sir.”

“So, has work been going well? Benjamin told me you were teaching in Moodus. Connecticut right?”

“Yes sir. It’s been,” Nathan hesitated looking for the right word. He didn’t want to sound ungrateful but he didn’t want to lie to the reverend.

“I’m thankful for the opportunity.”

Before Nathaniel could question him the door swung open and Ben strode in, mumbling to himself about how the falls seemed to be getting colder every year. His eyes lit up the moment he saw Nathan sitting in the living room.

“Pythias!”

Nathan chuckled as Ben ran over and wrapped him in a tight embrace.

“I’ve missed you!”

“And I you, my dear, Damon.”

“You’ll have to tell me everything about your school house.”

Reverend Tallmadge chuckled, “Benjamin, go slow my boy. Nathan just got here. I’m sure he’s rather hungry. I propose we have supper and after you two can catch up.”

*******

Ben smiled as he sat on the edge of his bad wrapped in a blanket, “so. How has it been?”

Nathan chewed his lip for a few moments “it’s been fine I suppose. The schoolhouse is in slight disrepair but it’s cozy. The people aren’t the conversational companions I had hoped for but they’re welcoming.” He sighed “Lord forgive me- I shouldn’t be ungrateful.”

Ben frowned “you never did well in isolation or some groups. Are you thinking of staying on?”

“I’ll fulfill my contract and hope that something else comes up. What of you? How is teaching so close to home?”

“It has its perks and hardships. I feel like the whole town is watching me, expecting me to be the best. I still enjoy it though.”

Nathan raised a brow, “you're not completely happy either are you?”

“I’m not unhappy but I cannot see myself teaching forever. Maybe the law or maybe local government. I see myself as doing something more Nathan.”

“As do I Ben.”

“Do you mean beyond teaching?”

He shook his head, his eyes suddenly sparkling. “Within teaching. Ben I know this is what I was out here to do. I just can’t do it where I am now. I want to reach more people. Give more boys the opportunities we had. I want to be more than just persuasive words and bold ideas Ben.”

“Nathan? What do you mean?”

“Women! Giving girls the opportunity for an education. Act on what we debated in favor of. I know it’s a risk, I know it’s frowned upon but Ben, daughters deserve these chances just as much as sons. Maybe- maybe this is what I’m meant to do.”

Ben chuckled “that’s the Nathan I remember. You’re made of strong stuff. You’re going to do something great someday Nathan. I know it.”

“You will too, Ben.”

[honorhearted]

"Well, it's very hard to argue with someone so full of wisdom," Ben teased, leaning into her touch with a chuckle. "And if you truly deign me brilliant, then who am I to go against the word of such a silver-tongued beauty?"

“When I’m flattering you to get something, I promise you’ll know it, Headmaster Tallmadge."

Lorraine's fingertips trekked along his chest, light and coy, and on instinct, he caught her traveling hand before pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "Alas, I have not yet cracked the code on feminine exploits, so you might fool me yet," he quipped, turning her hand to nuzzle into her palm.

Her eyes were bright and fond, sparkling like brilliant starshine, before she declared, "Now, I’d like to hear more about this dearest friend of yours, as well as others in your life, keep that in mind when your turn comes around again.” 

"Oh, I don't have a dearest person," Ben was quick to reassure, "so much as a group of friends who take turns. After all, some days we enjoy the company of one friend over the rest -- and most especially if the other friends are being snot-nosed shites about your talents and drawbacks." Chuckling, he pressed a quick kiss to her nose, his lips brushing upward along her brow. "Growing up, I was closest to a boy named Abraham Woodhull. We were a bit like night and day, because where I loved books and immersing myself in literature, he tended to prefer the outdoors and girls. Not that I didn't love those things too, of course, but I was a lot less suave when it came to social interactions...and arguably still am."

Stroking his fingers through her hair, Ben continued, "Then there was Caleb Brewster, a boy so mischievous that he was capable of corrupting even the most devout of onlookers...myself included. I'd never mooned someone before I met him." Grinning, he shrugged. "He always sought adventure, so he went off to be a whaler at age nine-and-ten. He's joined me and Abe in the war effort, so he's back in the fray again...and just as mischievous as before."

Trailing his fingers along Lorraine's shoulder, Ben hummed a moment before adding, "And then there's Anna Strong. Admittedly, I didn't much care for her when we first met. She was Abe's muse, so to speak -- wherever she was, Abe wanted to be, so I felt she was stealing my best and dearest friend. I loathed her for it. Then, after a considerable while, she comforted me after one of those damnable bee stings I've mentioned, and our relationship started to shift. Now, I couldn't possibly imagine my life without her."

"I can confidently tell you that now that you’ve survived my mother’s sting and my sisters’ incessant buzzing, a measly bee should be nothing to fear. If that isn’t enough to convince you, I’m compelled to remind you that you’re also parting with an ample share of honey.” 

Ben flushed at such a declaration, a shy smile tipping the corner of his mouth. Perhaps his diffidence seemed almost laughable, given what had just transpired between them, and with a soft chuckle, he agreed, "Already, you're proving to be a worthy sparring opponent of the mind. After all, I'm not quite sure how I could ever disagree with such a statement..."

And then she reaffirmed her affections, and Ben's heart fluttered and stammered inside his chest, causing his cheeks to burn impossibly hotter. The words Je t'aime aussi plucked across his heartstrings akin to a harpist, the song flooding through his limbs and nearly leaving him faint with relief. All his life, he sought for affirmation and love, and even hearing the words, he could scarcely believe them. It was hard to imagine that someone like Lorraine could want him -- him! -- above all else.

Drawing her back into his arms, he met her fervent kiss with one of his own, his head spinning as he dizzily succumbed to being rolled over onto his back. With her straddling his hips and her fingers in his hair, a flood of warmth speared through him and he groaned softly into her mouth, seeking, yearning as he deepened the kiss with a slow roll of his tongue. Once she parted her lips from his, he gave a breathless laugh. "Now I think you're trying to kill me," he whispered. "Perhaps you could give me a bit of a warning next time?"

“Tell me about Setauket, about your family and friends. Who else holds pieces of your beloved heart?”

"More?" he asked, fighting back a grin. "Shouldn't it be your turn?" Nevertheless, he trailed his fingers across her back in an aimless, circling path, then allowed, "My only remaining family is my father, Nathaniel. He is a good man -- a reverend -- so sometimes, it can feel a bit difficult to live up to such greatness. But I love him, and would do anything on this earth to ensure his happiness. He's been through far too much over the years."

“Is it so hard to believe you might just be brilliant, mon amor?” she grinned, “I am not one of your students, but your wife-to-be, and as such, I’m declaring it to be the truth.”

Lorraine playfully walked her middle and index finger from Ben’s chest up to his shoulder with a flirtatious wink, “When I’m flattering you to get something, I promise you’ll know it, Headmaster Tallmadge. Now, I’d like to hear more about this dearest friend of yours, as well as others in your life, keep that in mind when your turn comes around again.” 

Her parents would surely drop dead of distress if they knew she’d given herself prior to any wedding vows, but Lorraine felt strongly in her heart that Ben’s word was honorable and had no reason to believe he’d deceive her. 

As he expressed his preference for an engaging wife, she affectionately fiddled with a loose lock of his hair, laughing in tandem when he mentioned the bees again, “I won’t argue with you about the bees, however, I can confidently tell you that now that you’ve survived my mother’s sting and my sisters’ incessant buzzing, a measly bee should be nothing to fear. If that isn’t enough to convince you, I’m compelled to remind you that you’re also parting with an ample share of honey.” 

The joke had been terrible, but she found herself snickering nonetheless, once again stifling it against his shoulder to keep from attracting any prying ears.

"I love you."

Fingers laced, she beamed serendipitously as he interjected to reassert his affections, her own heart full and torrent as she leaned into his tender touch. 

"I love you -- wholly and irreversibly. I thank God for placing you right into my undeserving path."

“Je t'aime aussi. I love you too, mon Benjamin,” she answered, eyes alight with fierce devotion, “God as my witness, for all my days I will love you.” 

Lorraine sealed her promise with another impassioned kiss, relishing in his taste until she couldn’t resist rolling on top of him, burying her hands into his hair before pulling away just enough to smile at him. 

“Tell me about Setauket, about your family and friends. Who else holds pieces of your beloved heart?”

[annawoodhull]

Ben + Abigail 24 for the kiss prompt

This is probably much more than what you wanted, but what can I say? My babes inspire me 😆

#24 in danger

For anyone who knew Abigail Williams and her misadventures, the knowledge of her finding herself in trouble wasn’t much of a surprise. It wasn’t that she actively sought it out - though some might argue that enlisting in the Continental Army disguised as a man contradicted that statement - somehow trouble just always found her. (Okay, she accepted part of the blame for that, but many of those instances were circumstantial. She bore the healing bruises to prove it).

She had a long and busy schedule working alongside Anderson in the infirmary tent - that was until she had been recruited at random with a few select soldiers for a covert mission. She had been in no position to refuse, especially given the precarious situation in the camp already. With the immediacy of the officer’s orders, she’d asked Anderson to tell Caleb what happened if he came looking for her, which he often did (most likely at Ben’s insistence but out of his own concern as well as her friend).

The mission was simple. Go to the British hideout, fuck with their supplies, and get out. According to the scouts, the place appeared to be uninhabited for the past few days, which increased the likelihood of success. Still, Abigail held a healthy dose of skepticism but did as she was told.

Dressed in civilian clothing, Abigail plus four other men approached the hideout. The hair at the back of her stood on end. She had a bad feeling about it, but when the other men trudged along ahead of her, she had no choice but to follow, especially when their crude taunts about her hesitation irritated her into action.

They had managed to destroy a good bit of supplies that they couldn’t carry back to base on their person when they heard the first gunshot. Everyone froze before they hastily pulled out their own weapons and readied themselves. The next shot was even closer, shattering the window and hitting one of the men directly in the temple. He dropped to the ground, dead. The others, faces growing pale, finished off readying their weapons and made a quick strategy of what to do next.

Another bullet shot from the opposite end of the building, nearly shooting straight through like the previous shot. Splintering wood and a puff of smoke prompted Abigail to move further away. It was apparent to her that they were quickly becoming surrounded.

Needing to see just how poorly their odds were, one of the men peeked out of the shattered window and ducked just in time to miss another bullet, just barely. “There’s three of ‘em at the front!” he hissed. “No telling how many are at the rear.”

“There’s no way for us to get out,” said another, “unless one of us is willing to play decoy.”

No one said a word as yet another bullet pierced the building, making them all duck and reevaluate their strategy.

Really, there was only but one choice. Abigail eyed the rear door grimly. “Someone's got to go out the back, draw them away from the front. If we’re not completely surrounded that is.”

“And who’s going to do that, you?” another soldier asked. Judging from his tone, he had no intention of setting himself up as bait. And looking at the other surviving soldiers’ expressions, they were of the same mind.

Biting back a string of curses, Abigail adjusted her haunches. “Apparently, so. Give me your gun.” She already had the one but knew most likely she needed another. Seeing as how none of the others were willing, her request was met with immediacy. If it were any other circumstance, she would have laughed. She was close to it now and quickly choked it down.

She rose only enough to hazard a quick glance out the back window. There wasn’t anyone stationed at the rear, so whoever gave the shot must have gone to the front. Not counting her chickens before they hatched, she adjusted her grip on each gun, took a breath. She heard the discussion among the remaining men behind her. Let them talk it out about who would go out first after she lured them away.

She could just imagine Ben’s face if he could just see her now, lips pressed together and eyebrows furrowed in a protective fury. Even a furious Ben Tallmadge was enough to bring her a sense of calm. Thinking of him, she cautiously opened the backdoor.

When no immediate fire came, she quickly slipped out and firmly pressed herself against the wall. Heart pounding inside her chest, she took a quick glance around the corner and just as quickly pulled back. Three redcoats. One on horseback and the other on foot. Shite, she thought and tried to think quickly.

She ran to the bushes and took refuge in the thick foliage. If she could move in close enough without being detected, she could take a shot at them and risk having them chase her down so the others could escape and help her. Most likely, they would just escape, but she couldn’t let herself think about that right now.

Moving slowly, she avoided crunching leaves and snapping twigs as much as she could as she maneuvered towards the front of the house. When she was on their side, she crouched as low as she could, opting not to lie on her belly since she knew she would have to run as soon as she fired. Several yards away but still too close for comfort, she brought both guns in front of her and aimed at the two redcoats standing near the entrance. That was her best chance.

She’d aimed for their backs, but when she finally fired, one shot went wide and the other struck one of the redcoats in the back of the leg. He cried out and crumbled to the ground. The redcoat still standing jerked around and shouted at the one on horseback, gesturing in direction from the smoke of her gun’s discharge.

Cursing again, Abigail leapt to her feet and took cover behind a large oak tree as the two redcoats returned fire. She didn’t dare engage it when multiple bullets hammered at the oak tree. Only when there was a brief reprieve, did she poke her head out, take a shot, and quickly withdrew back behind the oak tree. She had no idea if her bullet hit anything. Her eyes were watering from the smoke and the stench of gunpowder.

When there was another lully, she attempted to aim another shot when a bullet struck her shoulder, causing her to drop the gun. Goddammit, she winced but didn’t dare move. If she bent to get the gun, she was opening herself to being shot again. If she dared to run, she risked being shut again. She was a sitting duck. And meanwhile those three soldiers were hiding inside the building as safe as they could be. If she hadn’t been stuck behind the tree, she would’ve been sorely tempted to shoot them herself, preferably in the kneecaps.

Then there were more shouts coming from the distance and more gunfire was being exchanged, this time, not in her direction. Panting, she risked a look around the tree and saw more men coming around the corner, dressed in civilian clothing. She couldn’t tell whether it was the soldiers she was sent with or someone else, but she didn’t have the luxury of time to figure it out.

She pushed herself forcibly away from the oak and took off but not before sending a series of shots in the directions of the redcoats. Not stopping to see whether or not any of her bullets struck home, she ran, adrenaline taking over even as the dull throbbing in her wounded shoulder faded into the background.

Then her foot caught over a protruding tree root. She fell to the ground and kept on rolling and rolling until she was lying flat on her back, staring up at the blue sky above her, not a cloud in sight.

A familiar exhaustion settling over her, the pounding pain in her shoulder taking precedence over everything else. She didn’t have the energy to move, instead trying to focus on catching her breath. She wasn’t even aware that the gunfire had stopped.

A rustle of leaves and rushing over approaching movement should have alarmed her, but she was too tired to do anything but lie there. If she were going to get kidnapped, it might as well happen.

Suddenly, her vision was filled with the face of an ashen faced, frightened Benjamin Tallmadge. She was so stunned she was unable to blink for fear if she did he would disappear.

It was only when her eyes threatened to water did she finally blink. She inhaled at the same moment as he exhaled sharply, his body slumped in immense relief. He barely managed to catch himself from falling on top of her.

Before she knew it, Ben’s mouth was firmly on hers. The feeling of his lips against hers quickly awakened her sense of awareness, and she found herself kissing him back. The moment she reached up and to draw him closer, she heard him exhale shakily against her mouth before kissing her with more desperation than before.

Trembling and lightheaded, she matched his desperation with her own, using up every last ounce of energy putting it into the kiss. Only when he felt her hold loosening on him did he draw back. He peppered several urgent kisses along her face. Abigail shut her eyes and savored it.

“When I didn’t see you with the others, I thought…” Ben murmured against her forehead. “And then Caleb saw someone go down…”

“Caleb’s here?” she asked, surprised.

She felt him nod. “The minute he went to check on you and Anderson passed along your message, he came to me. I’m going to find the officer in charge of this and deal with this. Are you hurt?”

She was about to say no when her shoulder throbbed in protest. “I think I was shot.” It was a statement, but her tone made it sound like it was a question.

He pulled back and asked urgently, “Where?”

“Shoulder,” she murmured, wincing as he immediately hauled her into a sitting position, though he was careful not to jostle her too much even in his haste. “Not sure if it went clean through, if it’s still in there, or if it’s just a graze. Didn’t get a chance to look.”

She heard him mutter an oath when he looked at it. It was most likely covered in dirt from her fall. Fortunately, her fall had landed her near a small ravine so Ben was able to guide her over and wash it out, wincing and apologizing for any sign of discomfort she must’ve shown.

The rudimentary bandage to her wound consisted of a torn strip from Ben’s shirt. She had argued with him against it, but he had already done it and applied to her without a second thought. It was the best they could do until they made it back to camp.

“So who’s idea was it for you to act as bait?” he inquired. His tone was calm and sounded almost casual, but Abigail knew better.

She sighed, too tired to attempt sounding defensive. “No one else wanted to do it, not after the first shot.”

Ben clenched his jaw. “I’ll deal with that, too.”

Making sure they weren’t being observed, Abigail pressed another kiss to his mouth, smiling a little when she felt him relax a little, although not by much. “I’ll be okay.”

“You say that,” Ben murmured. “But I still don’t like it when you’re hurt.”

Send me a number and I’ll write a kiss!

[fanpom-imagines]

Request by Anonymous: Hi hi, I would like to request a Turn: Washington’s Spies Oneshot? Possibly Benjamin Tallmadge x Reader? I haven’t got a topic, just make it in the Revolution days, but the rest is up to you! Thank you!

Imagine being part of the Culper Ring and reporting to George Washington and Benjamin Tallmadge directly.

Masterlist

Fandom: Turn: Washington’s Spies

Words: 2145

Warnings: Oh my God our Tallboi was requested and I am so happy! thank you anon, also some flirty Ham, but that’s just Hamilton and we love him for it

(Female Reader)

I ran through Washington’s camp in haste as I made my way to the building where the General resided in. As I weaved through the people in camp I was starting to feel more and more grateful for the fact that my disguise had consisted of trousers rather than a dress or a skirt of sorts. It made it way easier to travel since I wasn’t one of the spies who had to blend in on the daily, only when order to, but even that was rarely. I usually acted as the messenger for General Washington and Major Tallmadge, and occasionally I would send messages to and from spies to make sure they weren’t seen interacting with one another.

I made it to the front of the large house, but the guards stopped me.

“Halt, what business do you have here?” The guard on the right asked, clad in blue identical to the one next to him.

I pulled off my hat and revealed my face to them. They automatically recognized me seeing me many times before and the one who had spoken before opened the door and I swiftly moved inside.

I walked forward deeper into the house after hearing the door shutting behind me and made my way towards the stairs to make my way to Washington’s office to give him his letters of intel from the Culper Ring. As I made my way upstairs two other guards saw me.

Seeing me they once again were about to ask what I was here for, but saw my face again and in seeing me so many times come and go from the building they knew that I was here to deliver another message. Though in a strange way it was a good disguise. The guards and the soldiers and people residing in the camp always thought of me as just a messenger who brought intel from general, to general, or captain to captain, or a messenger from Congress, or even Mary Washington’s messenger, and as ironic the situation seemed no one had a clue about the ring of spies that was cultivated. Though to keep my disguise I did many times have to send messages not only for the spy ring, but also personal messages and such. Thankfully, many did not look into what a women did and instead ignored me most of the time because I just wore clothing that was more practical since I traveled so much and had to be fast on my feet since I entered enemy territory quite frequently.

The guard on the right knocked on the door and announced my arrival while the other on the other hand just looked ahead stoically with his back straight and legs together.

Focusing my attention back upon the two doors I waited for the guard to open the door before entering in. When I entered the eyes of the men inside fell upon me. Inside stood Colonel Alexander Hamilton and Major Benjamin Tallmadge in front of General George Washington himself who smiled at the sight of me and with his hand ordered me to come closer.

“Good evening (Y/N), I trust that you have brought me my letters once again?” I heard General Washington ask.

I smiled and bowed at the others in greeting before nodding a yes to him. He beckoned me over to where he was sitting and I pulled out the many letters hidden between the secret pouches in my clothes, which were to make sure that even in the unlikely event that I Would be searched or my coat was taken and searched no letters of importance would be found or at least would be very difficult to find, and handed them to him.

“Thank you, (Y/N),�� Washington said as he gave me a gentle smile in gratitude.

“You’re welcome General.” I was about to make my way out, but before I could even make another step towards the door he stopped me.

“Don’t leave just yet; I need you here for now till I write my responses and then you can go and send my replies to these letters back to the senders,” Washington told me as he motioned with his hand to come back to my original position which was next to him.

As the three of us, Hamilton, Tallmadge, and I waited for Washington to look over and read the letters we gave him some space and moved farther away from his desk to do so.

“So (Y/N), any suitors since we last met?” I heard Hamilton say in a teasing voice as he turned to look at me cheekily. “Asking for a friend of course.”

I rolled my eyes at him playfully which earned a chuckle from him.

“Sure, for a friend. Yet, I cannot seem to think of any friends you may have.” At my reply Hamilton faked shock.

“Oh, you wound me woman,” He sighed out dramatically.

“By God, Alexander you are so dramatic,” I giggled out at his attics which earned me a smirk from him.

“All for you, my lady,” Hamilton said giving me a flirtatious wink.

As our voices died down I glanced over to Benjamin to see him glaring at the Colonel with cold, hard eyes. Then his eyes made it to mine, but quickly averted at realizing so.

“Hamilton, please let Miss (Y/N),” I heard Washington say as he looked up to give a light glare to the said man, but it was all in good fun. “Here you go (Y/N),” the General said as he stood up and folded the letters while doing so. He handed them to me and said, “I will still need you to come back later today, I will call for you.” I just nodded in reply and gave him a slight bow and nodded my head in farewell to the two men.

I made my way out of the mansion and went through the camp, but as I passed by one of the many look alike tents. Something, or rather someone, grabbed me quickly and pulled me into the tent. I kicked whoever was behind me in between their legs with my heel. I heard a yelp and a curse come from behind me and I turned around ready to punch whoever was behind me.

But I stopped at seeing Caleb with one hand stretched out to stop me  from hitting him while the other was in between his legs protecting his nether regions. At realizing it was Caleb my eyes widened and I started to apologize profoundly to him.

“Oh my God Caleb, I am so sorry. Are you okay?” I asked in concern as I held his shoulders in concern.

“I’m perfectly fine just trying to test your reflexes is all,” he winced out.

I rolled my eyes at that, oh the male ego is definitely something. I smiled at him playful as he started to regain himself, and he returned the smile with a mischievous one of his own.

“Caleb what are you doing here?” I asked him as I went up and hugged him in greeting as it has been quite awhile since I had seen him.

“I couldn’t let Tallboy have you all to himself for too long, now could I?” he joked as he pulled away from me. I felt my cheeks start to burn slightly at his comment, but I quickly brushed it off as I sat down on one of the chairs in the tent while he took another one.

“So how has my favorite girl been?”

“Tired,” I sighed out slouching back in my seat. “The General has me running from spy to spy then back here twenty-four-seven. I can barely keep my eyes open some days.” I say and for emphasis I rub my eyes and let out a yawn.

“I know what you mean. I think all this spy business is having me age way more quickly than I should be. I may be seeing gray hairs soon when I look in the mirror next morning.

Caleb and I went on chatting for a while till the two of us heard footsteps coming closer to the tent. Caleb and I looked at one another then at the entrance of the tent I went to grab my hidden blade while he went for his gun by his side, but we both let out a sigh of relief at seeing Benjamin entering with his eye sore of a blue coat.

“Hello Tallboy,” Caleb greets and the two friends come together for a hug, and then lean back from one another. “Oh look at you! All dressed in blue,” Caleb says as he fakes wiping away tears and I laugh at his antics, “They grow up so fast, don’t they (Y/N)?”

I shook my head in reply and stand up from my seat as well.

“Ignore him Ben,” I say to him which earns a chuckle from him and I go over to hug him which he gladly returns with a tight squeeze.

“Oh look at you two love birds,” Caleb scoffs out at us. At his words though Benjamin and I quickly pull away from one another in embarrassment at realizing we may have held one another for a little bit too long.

I cough to ease the tension and turn to Ben, “So Ben what is it you’re here for?”

“Oh, right. The General asked me to find you and to give these to you so you can leave as quickly as possible.” Benjamin said as he handed me a wad of letters which I took from him, but as our fingers brushed I blushed slightly and looked at him as he did the same.

But of course the third party of the tent had to voice their opinion, because you know, it’s Caleb Brewster and it’s his duty to.

“Jesus! The two of you should already be walking down the aisle with those eyes you’re giving one another,” He exclaimed out and without another word he quickly left the tent and disappeared.

That left just the two of us in silence.

“Well I-” the both of us started out, but realized that the other wanted to speak and then said, “Oh, go ahead,” once again in unison.

I laughed at this and insisted for him to go on first, as I had insisted and he coughed uncomfortably and took a step towards me.

“(Y/N), I know we haven’t seen much of one another lately, with how busy things are, but I was,” his voice seemed to thin out and get lost and he took another breath to calm himself down and I could see his pale cheeks starting to grow a pale shade of pink. He coughed once again to clear his throat and continued, “I was wondering if you would allow me to court you?”

I stared wide eyed at the man in front of me, but then my face had broken into a wide smile, “Aren’t you supposed to start to write to me first?” I asked him teasingly.

“Well, yes, but since we’ve known one another for so long and the fact that writing to one another is just so we could get to know one another better-,” I cut his rambling off with a wave of my hand.

“I was just poking fun Benjamin, I would love to be courted by you.”

I heard a relieved sigh come out from between his lips as he looked at me with a large smile, “Oh thank God, I thought you were going to say no.”

“How could I ever say no to such a handsome and brave soldier dressed in tacky blue colors?” At my question he let out a huff of laughter and pulled me closer by my waist.

I was slightly surprised at his boldness, but I nonetheless put my arms around his waist as he did mine. Our faces were closer together this time as we stared into one another’s eyes.

“May I?” Benjamin asked as he searched my eyes hopefully.

“Of course.”

With that he pulled me closer by the waist in a feverish kiss, and I had to admit for a man who I don’t think has had much experience with women. He was quite talented at kissing. He pulled me even closer and planted his hands on my waist and my arms made their way up to his neck to wrap around it.

At last the two of us pulled away from one another and rested our heads together in breathlessness.

“I have to admit you’re quite good at kissing, but I think you made need a little bit more practice,” I told him jokingly which earned me a chuckle from him.

“Do I now? Then who should teach me?”

“Well, me, of course.”

[cupric-solution]

An Open Rupture (Turn Fic)

I’m really anxious about posting this but here is my first Turn: Washington’s Spies fanfic. It’s fairly self contained but it also sort of fits into a larger story idea I’ve been playing with that features Ben Tallmadge, Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens. 

This is set after the mutiny seen in S4E4 of Turn and in the immediate aftermath of Hamilton’s infamous fight with Washington on the stairs. Laurens is on his way to France at this point so he doesn’t appear but is mentioned. Tench Tilghman appears, though, as he’s been sent as an envoy of peace from Washington to Hamilton.

On his way to headquarters, Ben Tallmadge found Alexander Hamilton pacing around the perimeter of the mutineers’ makeshift burial ground. It had been more than two weeks since the execution and the first time he’d caught Hamilton on his own.

“I’ve been having nightmares,” he confessed, refusing to meet Ben’s eyes.

“That’s understandable.”

Ben reached out a hand to squeeze his friend’s shoulder but Alexander flinched away from the touch.

“I didn’t look away.”

“I know. Alex, you know you can talk to-”

“You did.” A harsh accusation of betrayal. “I felt you turn around.”

“To watch him.”

Alexander raised his head. Eyes bright, voice desperate, he asked, “Well? Did he look away?”

“Yes.”

“He disgusts me sometimes.”

Ben fought back the temptation to agree. He swallowed, wondered what he could say without his anger showing through.

He settled on, “He’s human.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Again, Alexander affixed his eyes to the ground and once more Ben reached out to him. It was the ghost of a touch, fingertips barely brushing against Alexander’s cheek and resting under his chin just long enough to tilt it up. Alex kept his head lifted but his eyes followed the retreat of Ben’s hand.

Ben kept his eyes fixed on his friend’s face and at last Alex met his gaze. From the pain Ben read in those pale blue eyes, he began to piece together a story although the details were blurred.

“Something’s happened. Between you and the General.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Unusual for you.”

This comment raised a rueful smile that lasted almost an entire second. Then Alexander spotted something over Ben’s shoulder that elicited an angry sigh.

“Sends another man to do his dirty work. As always.”

Ben turned to see Lieutenant Colonel Tilghman approaching them. Hamilton’s fellow aide looked tired and was shivering badly, despite being bundled up in a heavy cloak.

“I think you can guess why I’m here,” Tilghman said, his voice hoarse and despondent, quite the contrast from his usual joviality.

Hamilton’s response sounded rehearsed. “If he seeks an interview, I prefer to decline. Unless he orders it, in which case I won’t refuse. I am resolute in my decision and attempting to explain the reasons will only serve to drive the wedge further between us.”

“I agree. I’ll convey your wishes to him and then my duty concerning this matter will be done.”

Tilghman made to leave but was stopped in his tracks by Hamilton calling him back to them.

“Tench. I’m sorry he’s assigned you as our go between. You’ve enough real work to be getting on with.”

“I happy to play your peacekeeper and I’m not the only one. Lafayette is with him now pleading your case for a new position outside of the family. Some of us have taken your particular cause to heart. Haven’t we, Tallmadge?”

“Yes, sir,” Ben said as he straightened his posture, unsure what to add now he’d been drawn into the conversation.

“How many times do I have to say it, Tallmadge? You don’t have to ‘sir’ me, not when we’re alone. You’ve earned your rank, mine came with the position.”

“Actually mine did too. Apparently, I couldn’t be head of intelligence as a mere captain.”

“You should understand, then.” Tilghman’s tone turned teasing as he went on, “Or maybe you’re like Ham and enjoy people ‘sir’-ing you. Ham, you surely don’t go on letting Tallmadge ‘sir’ you after all these years?”

“Only in certain situations.” There was a note of laughter in Hamilton’s voice.

Ben looked at him and was relieved to receive a genuine smile from Alex, the dimples showing in his cheeks and some of his old warmth returning to his eyes. Ben returned a smile of his own.

The moment was broken by a loud sneeze from Tilghman. Hamilton rushed to his side, wrapping an arm about him and grumbling loudly about getting the poor man back inside before he froze to death. Ben noted Tilghman’s grateful expression and marvelled at how well Alexander managed to mother a man twelve years his senior.

Perhaps Ben ought to beg his help in solving the puzzle of Caleb’s current mood. He also harboured a more selfish desire to have his own foul temper soothed by a soft touch and eloquent words.

He wanted his friend back. He wanted all his friends back, wanted to see them safe and happy. He would settle for just safe, though. At this point happy seemed out of the question.

Ben had seen glimpses of the Alex he’d been sure he’d lost. Not Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton, the aide-de-camp who got more done than anyone realised. Not Ham who would fuss over his friends’ mild ailments but make light of his own brushes with death. Not even Betsey Hamilton’s darling Alexander.

His Alex, who he shared with but one other person. Another distant friend, still more distant now. Could they be content together with the sea separating them from their dear companion? Their brief reunion with their dear Laurens had only made them feel more keenly his absence.

Yet now Alex was determined to leave as well. Leave Ben alone with a quiet, broken Caleb and two women he feared would prove themselves far more capable at spy craft than he was. If Mary and Anna were men, the battle between them would surely have been over Ben’s job rather than Abe’s affection. Though those two desires needn’t be exclusive. Remembering his own petty jealously before he’d grown to trust and love Laurens, Ben wondered if that war would have been waged regardless of their sex.

His reverie was broken by someone pulling him into a hug. Ben was too startled to return it but Alex didn’t seem too offended for he stayed close after he broke the contact.

“What was that for?” Ben asked.

“I expected you to follow us inside. Instead I find you standing out here looking lost.”

“And you thought a hug would help?”

“It worked, didn’t it? I have you back with me and no longer adrift in a silent sea of thought.” Alex clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t you have business at headquarters? We’ll go in together.”

“Would you believe I was only headed up here in the hopes of running into to you? It’s been a while since we last talked.”

Alex smiled again and nodded toward Ben’s tent. “Let’s talk then.”

[shxrp-teeth-after-dark]

( BENJAMIN )·:

At first, Ben genuinely wasn’t sure what to expect. A knife to the kidney seemed far more likely than mercy or compassion, yet Astrid’s strong grip loosened, and then the blade was pulled back from his spine.

Knees wobbling, he exhaled as she whipped him around, not giving him the chance to assess his wounds nor regain his bearings. She returned her weight over top of him, only this time, Ben felt far too bare, exposed, as Astrid pressed her hips into his. The knife flicked beneath his chin then, and drawing a breath, he tightened his bound hands into fists and tilted his head back, if only to alleviate the slight sting of the blade.

“You are unlike any woman I’ve ever met,” he bit out. “You have no soul.”

It was unnatural, he thought. Every other woman he’d encountered at the very least seemed maternal to some degree, or even compassionate, if not seeking out motherhood. What could have possibly twisted this woman into making her so dark, unforgiving and cruel?

While Ben contemplated this, Astrid lifted a hand and cupped his cheek. He flinched from her touch, scowling as her thumb traced along the skin, almost fond in her mockery.

Endearing?

He thought again of kicking her, but for the sake of potentially getting out of this alive, not to mention his trembling limbs, refrained. “You don’t have to do this,” Ben told her. “If you let me go, I’ll personally see to it that you aren’t hanged.”

It was a feeble effort, he supposed, and knees growing all the weaker, he sagged against the tree, swallowing as her nearness didn’t relent. No, if anything, Astrid almost seemed closer, her hand tightly gripping his chin, and her hips pinning him from any substantial movement. Head spinning, a soft, helpless noise caught in his throat, and he prayed to God that it sounded distressed. At this point, he honestly didn’t know anymore. Astrid was a beautiful woman, but she was also evil and cruel – she was not the socialite he’d falsely admired from the party. That was probably the most disappointing thing of all, because he had admired her.

With her breath rushing out white-hot over his face, Ben closed his eyes and tried to muster up any amount of strength. Whatever she’d given him was still working its way through his system, and the embarrassing truth of the matter was that her body, though not wholly welcome, was probably the only thing keeping him on his feet. He squirmed beneath her and huffed.

“I’m going to kill you,” he vowed. Fumblingly, his bound hands grasped at the front of her hunting shirt, holding secure and pulling tight. “You may have use for me, but I have no use for you. The moment I get out of this…” His words dangled there between them, almost wholly ineffective in his partially drugged state. He tried to scrabble back again, but the blade slightly nicked his skin and caused a small, stinging bead of blood to pool at the surface.

How humiliating, he thought. Here he was, lost in the woods and bested by a woman – not only in strength, but in mind.

       ❝ To think, I thought you weren’t going to compliment me, Mr. Tallmadge. I am not an ordinary woman. ❞ Despite what Ben might think from her words, Astrid didn’t strive to be unusual, it just happened to fall into place. She accepted it, made do with her absurd interest, and turned it into a profitable job and gave like minded others a place to call a home. She gave herself and others the security she didn’t have in her own home growing up. ❝ You might think I am lacking a soul, but my question is: what makes someone have a soul? Is it not being alive and living life? How could someone lack such a thing? ❞ The blade to his throat inches closer and closer to his skin and she grins at the reaction she gains from it, the drawback of his head and the further exposure of his neck. 

      The scowl and distaste was expected, and after a moment of Ben’s revulsion remaining, Astrid peered over his expression in contemplation. Should she remove her touch from his cheek and jaw? Despite the turn of events and their positioning, Astrid took discomfort into consideration to some extent. Ben then pleaded--almost sounding desperate--as he promised to not give her name up to the proper authorities. To Washington, she assumed. Despite his disheveled appearance, she didn’t believe him. Astrid believed Ben would keep true to his vow when she turned him over, but he had less to lose if he let her hang. He actually had more to gain from it to wipe his conscience clean of her existence. She would be nothing more than a memory--a cautionary tale if he choose to remember her--and he had no idea about the other members of the Dark Brotherhood that would hunt him from then on.

      He moved closer towards the tree and Astrid closed in on him further, believing he was making another attempt to weasel himself out of her hold, away from her pressing hips and thighs. As her body aligned again with his, a muffled cry caught in his throat and her eyes flickered up to his face, a brow raised as her hold tightened slightly. He had a blade to his throat, but surely she didn’t dig too hard into him. She learned how to keep a steady hand with all of her assassinations. Was he… affected by her movements? She couldn’t feel a “pitched tent” in his breeches. Part of her wanted him to make that noise again, for her to elicit such a noise from him with her hands, and she bit down on her lower lip to keep the sensation in her heat at bay when she repeated the noise in her mind. 

      After that, she unleashed her tight hold on his face and pressed her hand on the space between his side and his stomach in another attempt to keep him in place. As she pressed her hand against his clothes, she could feel the tightening of his muscles under her fingertips and when she pressed further against it, she could get a better sense of the outline of his body beneath all of the clothing. It was… interesting, to say the least.

      Her shirt was grabbed and her gaze drew up at him again. She could feel his warm breath against her face, and with his hand gripping her clothing, she just realized how truly close they were to one another. If he didn’t speak then, her imagination might have wandered to questionable territories. His fistfull of her shirt pulled her closer against him, her stomach brushed against his as her hand managed to keep them from touching any further. At his response, it was laughable and there was hardly any threatening nature with his grasp on her with his tied wrists. He wasn’t in control, she was and perhaps Ben couldn’t stand it. ❝ You’re going to kill me? ❞ she questioned, her brows raised and a cocky smirk on her lips, disbelief filled her voice with a teasing lilt. She tilted her head and rose up on her tip toes to lean in closer to his ear, her breath being dangerously close to the pulse of his neck. The blade was still a solid hold against his neck, perhaps a too tight of a hold and she was awarded the sight of the pebble-sized blood that began to build and build in size before running down over his skin. The blade was momentarily drawn back and the rest of his words were meaningless to her ears as she pushed his chin up to lick over the blood. As another pool of blood began to form from the cut, her eyes peered up at him as the metallic taste still lingered on her tongue.

       ❝ I’d like to see you try. ❞

[klovenhooves]

There was so much blood that occasionally, Ben could still hear it drip off the edge of the table, the sound viscous and nauseating. Vice detective Easton, an older man with graying hair at his temples, stared up at the ceiling, unseeing, his mouth slightly open. His face had relaxed in death, but the blood on his face was creased where he must have furrowed his brow in pain before he expired.

“Detective Tallmadge,” Nathan’s voice, as usual, was soft, soothing, and altogether inappropriate for the disaster they were all staring at. “Can you come down here for a moment?”

Ben grimaced but stepped carefully around the pool of blood on the floor to crouch beside him. The CSU tech pointed toward the gaping stomach wound with his blue-gloved hand. “See that?”

Ben had to put a hand gently on his shoulder to steady himself. “What exactly am I supposed to be seeing?” he asked, covering his mouth with his other hand.

Carefully, with the precision of a surgeon, Nathan reached into his bag and pulled out a pair of large tweezers. He used them to clamp around a piece of torn skin and pulled up. “See that texture? A normal knife didn’t do this.”

Feeling the familiar sensation of bile rising in his throat, Ben quickly straightened up. “What kind of knife do you think did it, then?” he asked.

Nathan glanced up at him from his position on the ground with concern in his eyes. “A serrated blade, I think,” he said cautiously, as if he was developing his theory as he spoke it. “But a large serrated knife. I’ve never seen a wound like this.”

Ben turned back to him, his brow furrowed. “Think you can recreate it with a little time?”

Nathan, who was bent over the body again, shrugged. “We’ll see when we get the body back to the morgue,” he said. “I’ll do my best, but you know me -”

“No promises,” Ben acknowledged with a nod. “Let me know if you find anything else.”

“Will do, Detective.”

Hewlett was still standing in the doorway of the living room. “Easton’s wife says that she came home late from work and found him like this. He was already dead when she got here.”

“Not dead long,” Caleb jumped in, sliding easily into the conversation. “His body was still warm when she touched him.” He turned to Ben. “Signs of a struggle in the entry, but no blood until the living room.”

“Any blood on the way out?” Hewlett asked. “Killer had to leave somehow. You don’t just gut someone and leave without blood on you.” He wrinkled his nose, the same almost disapproving facial expression he had whenever he had to talk about things like this; it was almost as if he thought the idea of killing a man was repugnant simply because of the mess it made afterward.

“CSU found some drops of blood leading out the back door,” Caleb said, pointing his pencil toward the other side of the living room before tucking it back behind his ear. “Door has no fingerprints, and footprints look male.”

“No discarded weapon?” Hewlett prompted. “Clothes?”

“I have Officer Lee canvassing the trashcans in a two block radius and knocking on doors,” Caleb replied. “He should be done in the next hour or so.”

“Detective?” Nathan’s voice wafted over the couch that hid him from Ben’s view. “Captain?”

“Hale,” Hewlett acknowledged, moving toward the couch, but not around it, closer to the body. Ben followed, standing at his shoulder.

Nathan was bent over the body, this time Easton’s face. “There’s something in his mouth.”

***

Anna woke suddenly, like she had been doused with cold water. For a moment, long enough to send her heart rate to dangerous heights, she was sure she was back in the warehouse, with Arnold’s voice floating over to her on a sinister breath. She could still feel the phantom ropes around her wrists, around her legs, shivering with cold. But no, that was impossible, she thought, even as a hand gently pressed on her shoulder, trying to keep her from yanking on her IV.

“Detective Strong,” Captain Hewlett’s voice was soft, hushed enough that she immediately knew she had made some sort of sound, that people were still sleeping. “Are you alright?”

She wrenched her eyes open, landing easily on the source of the voice. He was in the same clothes from earlier, sans his jacket and tie. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, the top button of his shirt undone. He was disheveled enough that she knew, instinctively, that he had also been asleep.

“I’m….I’m fine, Captain,” she said quietly. “Just...a nightmare -” she could no longer help herself: “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you here?”

“Ahh, yes, well -” he glanced around the empty room, as if checking to make sure no one else was there. Anna mimicked his movement out of habit. “Detective Easton was murdered tonight, and since he was another vice detective -”

“Easton is dead?” she asked, her voice hushed. “How?”

“Stabbed,” he said, breaking eye contact, and she understood that he was sugarcoating it a bit for her, out of respect. She didn’t push him. “But since you were in a vulnerable place, and another vice cop, I thought I’d -”

“I appreciate it,” she replied, even as he continued.

“I’m sure you would rather have Brewster or Tallmadge here, but I sent them to get some sleep,” he explained in a rush.

“I don’t mind having you here,” she answered, shifting in her bed so she could sit up straighter. “Is there anything you can tell me about Easton?”

“I shouldn’t -”

“Captain Hewlett, I have always wanted to be in homicide,” Anna said, and she could hear the plea in her voice, the desperation to focus on something other than herself and her own injuries. “I can’t do much anyway, there’s no reason why I can’t serve as a good ear for theories.”

He was looking at her in that peculiar way again, like he wasn’t sure what to make of her, but inevitably, he crumbled. “Fine,” he said, scooting his chair closer to the bed. “Easton’s wife found him in the living room, gutted. Body still warm.”

“What was Easton’s wife doing coming home so late?” Anna asked, letting her head fall back onto her pillow. “Caroline works in physical therapy; she shouldn’t be out that late.”

Edmund surveyed her with a half-smile. “That’s exactly what I asked. She said she was out to drinks with her friends.”

“That’s easily checked,” Anna waved her hand. “What else?”

“Hale said the knife wound is like nothing he’s ever seen,” Hewlett continued. “Huge rough gashes, lots of ragged skin.”

“Serrated blade?”

“Not like any he’s come into contact with before,” Hewlett shrugged. “Blood leading out the back door, and a few footprints, but no fingerprints, no weapon or clothes found yet.”

“A struggle?” Anna asked. “I’m sure Easton didn’t go down without a fight.”

“In the entry,” Hewlett agreed.

“Any sign of forced entry at the front door?”

“None,” he said, his voice hesitant. “What are you thinking?”

She leaned forward, carefully untangling her IV from the tray at the edge of her bed. “Easton is not a passive man. If someone came to the door with a huge knife, something big enough to gut him, he wouldn’t just open the door.”

“You think he knew his attacker?” Hewlett asked, leaning closer to the bed, resting his elbow on the uncomfortable mattress.  

“Maybe,” Anna intoned, using her other hand to pull her long hair over one shoulder. Her hospital gown slipped off of one shoulder, but she ignored it. “I was thinking that maybe Caroline let him in.”

“Caroline,” Hewlett said simply, disbelievingly. “You think Easton’s wife let in….his killer.”

“I’m not saying that she did it willingly,” Anna protested. “I’m saying it’s a little suspect that there was no forced entry at the door but there was a struggle past it. And let’s not forget that Caroline managed to find her husband’s body while it was still warm. That’s a small window.”

“We are looking into her alibi right now,” Hewlett said thoughtfully. “So I suppose we’ll see if your theory is correct.”

She stuck her less bandaged hand out. “If I’m right, you owe me coffee,” she said, a mischievous glint to her eyes. Hewlett stared at her hand for a moment in the dark before shaking it gently. “And if I’m wrong, I owe you coffee.”

“Tea,” Hewlett corrected her.

She waved off the addendum. “What else did you learn?”

“He had a note in his mouth,” Hewlett said offhandedly. Anna, out of the corner of his eye, sat up straighter.

“And why didn’t you lead with that?” she asked, exasperated. “What did it say?”

Hewlett shrugged. “Death to all rebels,” he said. “Whatever that means.”

***

Despite getting only three hours of sleep, Ben rose early for his lunch date with Mayor Washington. He stared at himself in the mirror for a few moments, trying to decide if he was going to shave or not. Every few moments, his mind would return to George himself. He was going on a date with the mayor - the idea was thrilling in the same breath that it was terrifying.

He decided against shaving, and left his blond stubble scattered over his jaw and neck; instead, he dressed in his usual work clothes, a pair of slacks and a dress shirt, the top button undone. He left his badge clipped to his belt, and his gun on his hip. He would have to go in right after their date, he rationalized. He wasn’t dressing like this because he didn’t own normal clothes, he was dressing like this because he had to.

Caleb was still snoring when he slipped out the front door, locking it carefully behind him.

They met at the mayor’s office at George’s request. The paparazzi, and George’s Republican opponents, were ruthless, and any lunch that involved George sitting across from another man would create rumors that could cripple a possible re-election campaign. It was thrilling, walking into his office, telling the assistant at the front that he had a meeting scheduled with the mayor.

It was even more exhilarating when he opened the door and George was sitting at his desk, boxes of Chinese food spread over the glossy surface.

“Benjamin,” George had taken to calling him by his full name; it sent a shiver through Ben every time he did it, “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got a little bit of everything.

Ben took the seat across from him, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to creep over his face. “That is...so cliche,” he teased.

George smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement. “Ahh, yes, but on a first date, trying to avoid cliche could mean certain disaster.” His eyes lingered on Ben’s neck for a moment and he was suddenly self-conscious about the fact that he had decided not to shave. “So, can I interest you in….General Tso’s chicken, mushu pork, Mongolian beef?” he nudged the little cardboard cartons toward him, each with chopsticks sticking out.

Ben was full on grinning now, pulling the chicken toward him. George, with a smile, sunk his chopsticks into his own little box of lo mein. “For someone who thinks this is cliche, you sure are smiling a lot, Detective,” he pointed out.

“Yes, well, despite the cliche,” George raised an eyebrow, “this is...pretty amazing.”

“It’s just Chinese food, Benjamin,” George said, “if it’s this easy to impress you, I fear you’re going to make my job too easy.”

Ben thought, for a moment, that he was going to choke on his food. The way George spoke about the possibility of more dates, of more opportunities to impress him, bordered on arrogance. But it wasn’t arrogance that Ben saw in George’s eyes. Instead, he saw a sparkling amusement there, an uninhibited happiness that made Ben’s cheeks redden; as if he couldn’t help but let Ben know that he intended to keep seeing him. It was more forward and honest than Ben expected a politician to be.

But, he found as their conversation flowed genially and comfortably, the persona that George showed to the public was far from the one he exhibited in private. He was stoic, almost stony, in public, and that allowed him to push policies through when he really wanted to. But alone, at least, with Ben, he would smile, his eyes would sparkle. He had no trouble laughing, a full, deep rumble that made Ben want to make him laugh as often as possible.

“Did you know, Benjamin,” George finally said as their time together came to a close, “that your face goes just a little pink every time I call you by your full name?”

Unprepared for such a bold statement, Ben cleared his throat. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

George’s foot bumped his own under the table. “Are you sure, Benjamin?” he pressed just slightly on the word, his shoe rising to brush Ben’s ankle. Ben jumped at the contact, and George’s foot immediately, softly, traced a circle just above his ankle intoxicatingly. “Oh dear,” he chuckled, this laugh much more deliberate than the others, “I fear your poker face is slipping, Detective.”

Was it hot in here? Ben felt warmth creeping up his neck, hot enough that he pulled his collar away from his throat, even though it wasn’t buttoned nearly high enough to restrict his ability to breathe. George’s eyes were still on him, that sly sparkle there.

“Would you prefer I called you Ben?” George asked, his foot sliding easily up Ben’s leg to his calf. Without thinking, Ben extended his leg farther under the table, offering up more of his leg to be touched. It was so simple, the softest bit of contact, but it was so teasing, so tantalizing, that he let his eyes drift closed for a moment before he registered the question.

“I - I would prefer -” George’s foot slid just a little higher, to the crook of Ben’s knee, a silent ‘stay focused.’ He sighed. “No, please - call me Benjamin.”

That seemed to be the right answer; immediately, George’s foot left Ben’s leg, and he was on his feet. Ben, out of pure instinct, followed his lead. Perhaps it was his time to go. He felt disappointment settle in his stomach as George reached for the phone at the edge of his desk.

“Mr. Townsend?” he asked, his eyes rising to find Ben’s neck and then his face. “Hold my calls.”

It was enough of an invitation for Ben to come to him, his hands splayed out on the larger man’s chest. George gently leaned down, just a slow tuck of his chin to bring him to Ben’s ear. His hands came to rest on Ben’s waist, one slightly lower, closer to Ben’s hip, and his belt, near his gun. Ben could feel his breathing all but stop as George’s lips stopped by his ear.

“Benjamin,” Ben was pretty sure his knees were going to buckle at the sound of his deep voice. “How much time do you have before you have to go back to work?”

Ben’s hands tightened into fists on George’s shirt. “I have…” he exhaled a shuddering breath as George’s nose gently tilted his chin up, exposing more of his neck to him. “I have about half an hour.”

“Good,” George breathed against his skin, still just far enough from Ben’s skin that he hadn’t kissed any bit of him yet.

Ben was practically squirming in the man’s gentle but firm grip. George pulled back far enough to smile at him. “Is there something that you want, Benjamin?” He was studying Ben’s face, watching for the reaction his full name gave him. He was immensely pleased when Ben pulled his lower lip into his mouth, worrying it with his teeth. Ben could see George knew what he wanted, what he was aching for, but he still watching him, maddeningly, waiting for him to speak. “Say it, detective.”

“Please -” he was already so gone, so lost in his voice, that he couldn’t find the words.

“Do you want me to kiss you, detective?” Very gently, George pushed Ben against the wall, behind his desk. Ben welcomed the sturdy wall and the pressure of George’s body against his, his thigh nestled between his legs. He almost groaned at the contact. Instead, a shuddering gasp left his lips, pulling a pleased chuckle from George.

“Yes, sir -” Ben finally managed, the sir so quiet he felt George go still as it left his mouth. “Please.”

He had his eyes closed, so he was surprised by the sudden pressure of George’s lips on his own, possessive, hungry. He moaned, a needy sound at the back of his throat, as George very gently slid his hand onto his cheek, the ends of his fingers just teasing the tender hair at the base of his skull.

Slowly, maddeningly, George shifted his stance, his thigh between Ben’s leg brushing against exactly where he wanted contact. Ben broke the kiss with a gasp so loud that George removed his hand from his hair to gently cover his mouth.

“Now, now, Benjamin,” he grinned as Ben rolled his hips against George’s thigh at the sound of his name, “you’re going to get us caught.” Even as he chastised him, George slid his other hand from Ben’s hip down to the bulge in his pants. He watched Ben’s eyes flutter closed with just the pressure of his hand. “So enthusiastic,” he whispered, slowly removing his hand from over Ben’s mouth. “So beautiful.”

He slid his hand up to Ben’s belt, pressing warm kisses to his neck. Ben squirmed against him, his ragged breathing by George’s ear the only hint that he had that Ben was trying desperately to stay quiet. “Please, sir,” he whispered, grinding against George’s thigh, struggling to find friction.

George slowly pulled his thigh from between Ben’s legs, replacing the pressure with his hand again, gently rubbing over the zipper of Ben’s pants, watching, with his lip between his teeth, Ben’s eyes flutter closed again. “No, my dear Benjamin. We will not rush. We must have patience. No matter how tempting you are,” he pulled his hand away, using it to cup Ben’s face and press a soft, sweet kiss on his reddened lips. “We will do this right.”

[brooklynislandgirl]

@honorhearted {{from here}}

Wide eyed and attentive, she catches the faintest glimpse of sugar crystals just before he puts the island between them. Her lips quirk upward at their corners. She doesn't consider herself something to fear but she can't help that little shiver of delight when Ben takes up the challenge of being playful. "Uh-huh..." A wordless little acknowledgement as she rolls her tongue against the back of her teeth and a faint tilt of her chin. Nothing disruptive but the posture and murmur equate to a cat's little wiggle before pouncing. Her feet make no sound on the thick pile of the beautiful rug beneath the couch and coffee table grouping in the large space when she does rise. Each step stalking toward him as he explains his version of the story and possibly hinting that it was her fault that she hadn't snapped it up earlier when they were enjoying their brunch. She cannot be blamed for the way she closes in on him. Not looking toward the box that still has other flavours in it ~she can't wait for him to try the haupia malasada, which is tied with the poi for the very best~ her gaze seems rooted to his mouth. And maybe the tell-tale trace of dusty purple that shades one corner. And maybe this is Ben learning a secret about short girls. She could chase him endlessly around the long marble island. Never be able to keep up with his far longer stride if he put his heart in it. So instead? Beth goes up and over, holding herself up by one spindly arm while the hand of the other strikes viper-swift, a finger curling though a belt loop. Tugs him closer to her. "Your charity is not in question, but I might jus' have to collect evidence against you all the same." Despite all indicators otherwise, Beth doesn't seem to realise just how sensuous the threat might come across.

[beardedsunshinetour]

Installment the First

Or, The Adventure Begins

Disclaimer: I don’t own the canon characters, obv. I’ve just stolen their souls for my own purposes. The MCs are a melting pot of my imagination, real interactions, and silliness.

Disclaimer 2: If you haven’t seen season four yet, spoilers will probably abound. Ye have been warned.

Part the first: Where we meet the fangirls and they encounter our favorite #bromance 

“This is silly.” Addie pulled her peacoat more tightly around her and blew into her hands to warm them.  She’d been the one to talk her sister Mal into this impromptu meetup with some of their online fandom friends. But now they were wandering beside Conscience Bay in Setauket, Long Island at ten o’clock at night in December in an attempt to feel some connection to the area’s history.

“Yeah, it’s freezing out here,” Mal agreed, stopping next to Addie. She let out a frustrated huff when their companions continued along the road, looking for a clearing to get to the edge of the water they'd been following for three blocks.

“Not the weather,” Addie pressed. “I mean, I love Turn, and I love Revolutionary History, but this place wasn’t even much to look at when we saw it during the day. What are we doing?”

“It’s awesome at night,” Leena called back over her shoulder. “Come on!”

“We might even see a ghost!” June, leading the group, shouted.

“Not if she keeps screaming like that,” Mal said, nudging Addie.

Addie smirked. “The guide this afternoon didn’t say anything about it being haunted, did he?”

Leena slowed down to match the sisters' pace. “Not that we know of,” she said, the light from the full moon making her toothy grin luminescent. “But last time I came, I swear I saw someone on the water. It was too dark to see who it was, though.”

“And you think it was Caleb Brewster coming from Washington’s camp to collect intelligence?” Addie asked, unable to suppress a bemused smile.

“Maaaaybe. Not going to rule it out!” Leena giggled before hurrying to catch up to June.  

Addie looked at Mal, the unspoken question of What have we gotten ourselves into hanging between the sisters.

“Friggin’ Twitter,” Mal muttered. They'd never met the other women in person before, and knew them only from the online fan group they were part of. “This would have been so much better if Steph had showed up.” Of all of their online friends, Steph had been the one to connect the most with Mal. Part of the reason Mal’d agreed to come at all was because Steph was also going. Except she’d had to cancel at the last minute because of a work obligation.

“We’ve had a good time up to now,” Addie allowed. Mal rolled her eyes. “Okay, like I said, this part seems silly. I don’t know what they think we’ll find out there, but I guess it beats just sitting in the B&B, right?”

“Get a fire going, make some hot chocolate, binge Turn –“ Mal shivered as another wintery blast buffeted against the treeline. “It’s going to friggin’ snow. Let’s just go back.”

Addie looked up at the sky, the stars clearly visible. “It isn’t going to snow,” she challenged.  

“It should snow if it’s going to be this cold,” Mal complained.

“Let’s hurry up a bit, then,” Addie suggested. “We can catch up to June and Leena.” The other women had already disappeared around a bend in the road, and Addie was nervous that they were no longer in sight.  

Mal made an irritated grunt, but quickened her pace to match Addie’s.

A scream pierced the hush of the evening. Addie and Mal looked at each other, eyes wide, before both breaking into a run and calling their friends’ names.

When they reached Leena and June, the other women were giggling, laying on the ground.

“What happened?” Addie asked, looking for any signs that they’d been hurt.

“Leena thought she saw a ghost and pulled us both down when she tried to get away from it,” June laughed. “Ghost turned out to be a dang squirrel! Pullin’ me down here,” she admonished. “Break my hip if you’re not careful!” June was twenty years older than the others, though she was in far better shape.

“Leena’s more likely to break her hip than you are,” Addie pointed out. “And I thought you wanted to find ghosts,” Addie laughed, offering a hand up to Leena as Mal did the same for June.

“Yeah, but – maybe not when I’m not expecting it, y’know?” Leena brushed off the back of her jeans and looked around. “Anyway, we’re here! This is where I saw him last time!”

Addie found herself peering out at the water, squinting her eyes as though that would show her the ghostly whaleboatman.

“What are we doing?” A voice whispered in Addie’s ear and she jumped, embarrassed by the resounding squeak of fear that escaped her lips. She spun around and exhaled as the others began to laugh.

Steph had made it, after all.

“Not funny,” Addie admonished, her heart still racing.

Steph was grinning. “It was a little funny,” she said before hugging Addie. “It’s so great to finally meet all of you!” She hugged the others in turn – and Addie was glad to see Mal smiling – finally.

“Ugh, sorry I missed the first couple of days,” Steph said once the hellos had been finished. “Work is so unpredictable. But I’m here now, ready to sink my teeth into history and all things Turn! So what’re we doing? Ghost hunting? Dibs on our illustrious spy leader if he shows up.”

“If Ben shows up, honey, I’ll fight you for him,” June said. “Ghost or not, I’d sink my teeth into that boy any day of the week!”

“OMG, cougar alert!” Leena giggled.

“I might be older than y’all, but my eyes work just fine,” June said with a smirk.

Addie laughed and shook her head. “So what now?”

“Let’s build a fire!” Leena suggested, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “We can all sit around it and do a round-robin fanfic!” She put her hands – hidden inside her slightly too long jacket sleeves – up in front of her face as she tried not to giggle again. The result was a high-pitched noise that sounded suspiciously like a mouse squeak.

“A fire?” Addie shook her head. “I’m not sure we’re even supposed to be out here, let alone trying to start a fire.“

“I’m with Addie,” Steph said. “Besides, I’m starving. I drove straight from D.C. and haven’t eaten anything since lunch.”

“We’ll head back to the road, see if anything is open,” Mal suggested. “It’s almost midnight, so I don’t think – son-of-a-“ she let a low growl finish the sentence as snow began to drift lazily to the ground. She turned to her sister. “No snow, huh?”

Addie looked up again. The stars were as bright and clear as they had been ten minutes before. “That doesn’t make any sense,” she said, frowning.

“So we head back,” Leena said, reaching up to put one arm around Steph’s shoulders and the other around Mal’s. The shortest of the quintet, what she actually managed was a hand up to her wrist on either girl's taller frame. “Find something to nom on and get back to the bed and breakfast before it decides to go full-on blizzard.”

Addie was still frowning up at the sky. “So we’re going to completely ignore the fact that there are no clouds for the snow to be falling from, yeah?”  

“You just can’t see them,” June said without glancing up. “It couldn’t be snowing like this without clouds. Hey! Y’all know what we need?”

“Flaming Dr. Pepper shots!” they cried out in unison, all of them laughing.

"I don't know if there's a bar within walking distance," Addie said as she and June caught up to the others.

"Everything's within walking distance technically," Steph said. "Just depends on how far you want to walk. Besides, if the snow picks up, we don't want to be driving around in it, right?"

Mal raised her fist in the air. "Here's to being stuck in a bar and getting hammered while we discuss a certain Major Tightpants!"

Addie laughed along with the others. Much of their online threads seemed to center around the wardrobe choices of the characters, the most infamous being the snug breeches of Benjamin Tallmadge, leader of the American spy ring. She shook her head. "Because being wasted and trying to walk through a storm is a much better idea."

"Maybe Caleb's ghost will be there. He can walk us home!" Leena suggested.

"Didn't he die in Connecticut?" June asked.  

"He did," Steph confirmed. "And Ben, too."

"Aww, the bromance continued after the war!" Mal laughed. "That's so cute!"

"So then why would he be haunting a bar that didn't even exist when he lived here?" June pressed. "That makes no sense!"

"Maybe the bars he haunts in Connecticut ran out of whiskey," Addie said.

"Or they tried to give him tea," Mal snickered.

The joking had distracted them. They stopped at the corner and looked up to the street sign to get their bearings - but couldn't see it. The snow had gradually reduced visibility without their noticing, and none of them knew quite where they were.

"Holy crap, it's really coming down now," Mal said. "Addie? Pull up GPS on your phone or something."

Addie complied, pulling out her phone and scrolling through her apps until she found the one for directions. She tapped on it, and frowned as it opened to a white screen, the 'processing' icon spinning. "It usually doesn't take this long to start," she said. "Probably the storm." The network icon at the top showed  NO SERVICE in red. "Dammit!" She showed the phone to her sister.

The other women pulled out their phones. There was a chorus of 'mine, too' as they checked their network status.

"Maybe the storm knocked out a tower," Leena suggested.

They all glanced around - except for the denseness of the snow, the 'storm' had very little teeth. An intermittent wind nipped at their faces, but the night was otherwise perfectly still.  

"Well we can't just go on standin’ in the middle of the street,” June pointed out.  

"Are we in the middle of the street, though?" Steph bent down and brushed the snow away from the ground immediately around her. "Grass," she muttered. "We were on pavement, weren't we?"

"Snow without clouds, disappearing pavement - anybody else freaked out yet?" Addie asked.

"Look, there's an explanation -"

"Be quiet, Mal." Addie held up her hand to silence her sister, her head tilted, listening to the sounds around them. A muffled exhalation of breath was followed by the crunching of snow. "There," she whispered when she heard it again. "Someone's coming."

"Help! We're poor tourists who have lost our way!" Leena laughed. The others shooshed her. A horse's nicker came in response.

"What the -" Addie frowned, shrugging as they all glanced at each other. Addie’s heart thudded against her ribcage painfully. Something wasn’t right.

A horse and rider cut through the storm, parting the snow as though it were a curtain. A second was right behind it.  

The women gaped.  

Mal grabbed Addie's arm. "Is that -"

Addie could only nod as the first rider turned his horse in front of them, his sabre drawn. His blue and buff uniform was spotless, topped with a plumed hat – it was Ben Tallmadge.

“Identify yourselves!” he demanded, eyes raking over the group.

The second rider circled behind them, effectively blocking any escape attempt they might have made.

The women huddled a little closer together, but didn’t answer.

The wind tugged at their coats and hats like a child wanting attention. Addie’s hat blew off, and she turned as she tried to grab it – with no success.

“Dammit,” she muttered, looking up at the second rider. Her heart stopped. The snow was still falling, but the long leather coat and cocked wide-brimmed hat were instantly recognizable to her as Caleb Brewster.

Addie grabbed Mal's hand.

"But the last season of Turn is already airing," June said. "Did you get picked up by Netflix? Oh my God. Are you filming right now?"  

"Filmin'?" Caleb asked, looking across their heads at Ben. He dismounted, reins in hand as he looked at each of them. “They’re all women, Tallboy!”

“No call for rudeness!” June huffed.  

Ben dismounted as well, coming around to stand by Caleb. He sheathed his sabre and sighed, hands on his hips.

“It isn’t rudeness, Madam. It’s surprise,” he said. “When you dress like a man, you should be prepared to be seen as a man – and a threat.”

"This is awesome," Leena giggled behind Addie.

And terrifying, Addie thought.

“’Dress like a man?’” Mal scoffed. “Steph, is this you?” Steph often boasted about her connections with the show – connections she never explicitly defined, but did always seem to result in inside knowledge.

She also liked her practical jokes.

Addie started to breathe a little easier. That’s all this was. It’s all it could be.

“Not me,” Steph said. “Shit. This is not me.” Her voice wavered. So did Addie’s relief.

“So – not on a set,” Addie said, her eyes locked on the men. “This is – real?”

"But if they’re supposed to really be Tallmadge and Brewster, they wouldn’t look just like -"

"I know," Addie said, hushing her sister. "I didn't say I could explain it."

“Don’t remember tellin’ you who I was,” Caleb said, head tilted to the side. His eyes flicked to Ben’s and then back to Mal.  “Suppose ya tell me how it is you seem to know.” His hand was on the top of the axe at his waist, his body rigid, waiting.

Mal squeezed Addie’s hand. Addie could feel the tremor running through her sister. She squeezed back.

“Well, hell, boys. Everyone knows wherever Tallmadge goes, Brewster’s at his heel,” June said, her words easing Mal’s trembling.

“And Brewster’s axe is legend on its own,” Steph said. “We just connected the dots. Sir,” she added when Caleb remained still. Only his eyes moved, back to Ben.

Ben gave a curt nod, and Caleb’s body relaxed. He folded his hands in front of him and straightened his neck, walking around the group, looking each of them up and down in turn.

Addie felt the heat rising from under her coat collar as Caleb passed. He stopped when he’ d made a full circuit of the group.

“None of ‘em are armed,” he conveyed to Ben.

Ben nodded, his posture becoming less stiff. “Identify yourselves,” he repeated, his voice still firm.

Steph made her way to the front of the group, pushing Mal and Addie apart in her haste. "Stephanie Beecham," she said, giving a perfect curtsey, one ankle crossed behind the other.

Addie glanced at Mal behind Steph's back, knowing the smirk that graced her sister's face was mirrored on her own. Mal shrugged and shook her head.

"Miss Beecham." Ben nodded stiffly.  

"Addie Hunt," Addie offered with an exhalation and a nod in response to Ben's.  

"Mal Gower." Mal thrust out her hand. Caleb cast a bemused look at Ben, then stepped forward and shook it. Addie found herself wishing she'd been as bold.  

"Leena Owens." Leena's voice squeaked as she stood on her tiptoes to be seen over the other women.  

"June Cort." June stuck her hand over Mal's left shoulder, palm down. Caleb looked back at Ben again, then took it and pressed his lips to it. June grinned. Her face, already red from the cold, deepened in color.

"Right. Now we all know each other." Caleb hooked his thumbs in his belt and stepped back, his head tilting to the side. “Mind tellin’ us just what you’re all doin’ wanderin’ around here in the middle of the night?”

“And how you managed to get past the posted sentries?” Ben added.

“Posted sentries?” Addie echoed.

“Aye, the sentries,” Caleb said. “The lads done up in blue and buff that are posted around the perimeter of our line.”

Oh, God. The war hasn’t ended yet, Addie thought. Her heart felt as though it would burst. Being here, mere feet from the living, breathing incarnations of what had effectively been an obsession for four years should have been exhilarating.

But they’d somehow been transported into the show – or at least the world the show inhabited – and these were very real people.

With very real guns.

"We were just in Setauket," Leena offered.

"Setauket?” Caleb snickered. “Yeah, give or take 100 miles.”

Leena blushed and grabbed June's hand. "He spoke right to me!" Her voice wasn't above a whisper, but they all easily heard it.

Caleb looked at Ben, an amused smirk spreading across his face.

“100 miles from Setauket?” Mal whispered to Addie. “How did that happen?”

“Sure, that’s the weird part of all this,” she whispered back.

"Never heard any of them names around Setauket," Caleb pointed out. “How ‘bout you, Ben?”

"’Course we’re not from Setauket, " June said. “We were just visiting family."

"Yeah, we’re cousins of the DeJong's," Mal finished, giving her sister a perfunctory nod.

"Cousins?" Ben asked, nodding. "All five of you?"

They nodded. "Distant," Steph said. "There was um a -"

"Wedding," Leena said. Addie suppressed a groan. Weddings were something they could check on. Although, come to think of it, so was the existence of visiting cousins. This wasn’t make believe. If they were taken back to camp and their stories checked, then found to be false - she began to fidget.

“Mind tellin’ us what you’re doin’ out here, then?” Caleb asked. “Like I said, it’s a long way from Setauket.”

Each of them looked to the others for some kind of direction.

“We got lost?” Steph said.  

“Lost.” Ben’s voice was flat, his free hand on his sabre hilt. “You expect us to believe you just - wandered up here from Setauket, through enemy lines?”

“So we’re in the show world, right?” Addie mumbled to Mal.

“What?”

“I mean, we’ve so obviously been Twilight Zone’d – and since they look like the actors, I figure we’re in the show’s universe, and haven’t somehow time traveled to the past, right?”

“How the hell do I know?” Mal hissed.

“I’m just wondering if they know about Hewlett yet,” Addie whispered.

“What’s this about Hewlett?” Caleb asked, stepping forward again and focusing on Addie.  

She turned to Mal, who shrugged. “I – I just thought you might not have heard that Major Hewlett’s taken over for Andre as Head of Intelligence for the British,” she said.

Caleb’s face tightened and he whipped his head around to Ben, who had a similarly grim look.

“How did you come by this information, Madam?” Ben asked.

Because I watch the tv show, Addie thought.

“Everybody’s talking about it in York City,” Steph said quickly.  

“Right,” Caleb said, nodding and heading back to his horse. “I’m going to find a way in –“

Ben stepped back and put a hand on Caleb’s chest to stop him, keeping a wary eye on the group of women.

“You can’t go to York City, Caleb. You don’t have a way in or a way out.”

“If Hewlett’s there, Culper’s at risk,” Caleb said.  

“No, it’s okay - they’re working together,” Leena said. Ben brought his gaze to hers slowly, and Caleb craned his neck around to look at her. The other women turned to her and exhaled, a collective breath of chastisement.

“What?” Leena asked, her palms turned up in front of her.

“What do you mean ‘working together’?” Ben asked, walking into the group so that he was in front of Leena.

He had his back toward Steph, whose eyes kept straying below his waist.  

Addie swatted at her hand as it reached towards Ben’s butt.

Behind them, Caleb snorted. Addie didn’t turn around, but felt the color rising to her cheeks again. She felt as though her face was going to be a permanent shade of pink before the end of the night.

“I was just going to give it a little squeeze,” Steph muttered.

Addie shook her head. “Not the time,” she whispered.  

“I mean,” Leena said, blushing even more now that she was inches from him, “that they made a pact to get Simcoe.”

“Simcoe,” Caleb said, crossing his arms again. “That bas-“ he cleared his throat as he remembered the ladies present. “We knew it was a risk –“

“We’ll discuss it back at the camp,” Ben said over his shoulder, studying each of the women’s faces before going back towards his horse. “I’m going to have to ask that you ladies accompany us.”

“I’ve got some rope in my bag,” Caleb offered with a grin.

“Oh, honey, you don’t have to tie us up,” June said.  

“Well, unless you want to,” Steph added, matching Caleb’s grin.

Addie wanted to scream. Why wasn’t anybody else freaking out?

“It isn’t far to camp, rope won’t be necessary,” Ben said. “Behave,” he muttered to Caleb as he passed him.

The snow had slowed during the exchange, and was now barely falling. Beside them, the moon was reflecting off of the river, a shimmering path that seemed to stretch endlessly in either direction.  

Ben and Caleb rode their horses, the girls walking between the two.

"We probably should have marked where we were," Addie muttered to Mal.

"Why?"

"Because eventually, we're going to have to try and get back, right?"

Mal pulled her head back slightly, a quizzical expression on her face. "Why are you even worried about that now?" she asked. "Just let go for once, Addie. Enjoy the ride while it lasts, and we'll figure out the rest when we have to."

“’Enjoy the ride’?” she shot back. “We’ve been dropped in the middle of a war being waged in a fictional universe where we don’t know exactly what will happen. Maybe we’re not tied up – yet – but we’re prisoners, Mal!”

“But we’ve got such nice eye candy,” Mal pointed out, grinning.

Addie ran her hand over her mouth, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.  They’d all gone crazy. Logic and reason were what she relied on in her real life, and even though what was happening now couldn't be explained with either of those things, she was trying to cling to them.

They passed a sentry post, the men nodding to Caleb and Ben as they passed, staring at the group of women with interest.

"Eyes on your watch, gentlemen," Ben chided. The soldiers grumbled, but turned away, one of them prodding at the fire by their feet.

"Where we gonna keep 'em?" Caleb asked. "Can't cram 'em all in the store room for very long."

"The barn," Ben said after a moment. "We can post guards there, and they'll be out of the weather."

"Yeah, barely." Caleb looked over the group again. "You lot eaten at all today?"

"I could eat a whole cow," Steph said.  

"Well, we ain't long on beef, but we'll find somethin' edible," Caleb said.

They arrived at the barn, the noises from the camp clearly audible even though they could not see it yet.

"Take care of the horses, and bring four men we can rely on to post as guard," Ben instructed, dismounting and handing the reins to Caleb. "This way, ladies."

Caleb led the horses into camp, and the group followed Ben in to the barn.

"This is where they brought Abe!" Leena squealed.

"Please, Lord, don’t make me stand anywhere near where they had poor Richard’s body," June said, a hand to her mouth.

Ben pulled the door closed behind them and advanced towards the women.

"How are you getting your information?" he demanded.

"Oh, oops." June put a hand over her mouth as Leena grimaced.

Ben's face was grim. "I will have no choice but to keep you here, under guard, unless you tell me how you have come to know the name Culper."

His eyes went to each woman's face in turn, searching for answers, for any sign that one of them were ready to speak.

One by one, they averted their eyes, shifting nervously.

Ben exhaled sharply, turning at the sound of the door opening. He held up a hand to stop Caleb where he stood, and focused again on the group of women.

"We will have your source," he said, pointing his finger at them.  

He walked to the door and drew Caleb back outside.

"See if you can get anything out of them," he said, his tone low. "I've got to tell Washington about Hewlett."

One side of Caleb's face twitched upward with the movement of his mouth. "You want me to go in to a barn full of women and get information from 'em?"

"Behave yourself," Ben huffed.

"I'll be a perfect gentleman, yeah?" Caleb grinned. "Who's to say they'll be able to keep their hands off me, though, eh?" He laughed, hitting Ben's arm.

His words carried easily into the barn. Mal grabbed Addie's arm and gave an excited jump. Behind them, June and Leena let loose a quiet squee.

"But no Ben and his breeches," Steph complained.

They shushed each other as the barn door opened again.  

Caleb shut the door, then walked over to the women, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Right," he said, grinning. "Who's first, then?"  

“Best. Vacation. Ever,” Mal breathed.

Addie felt like she was going to puke.                                                                                          

[brooklynislandgirl]

"I said what I said," she teases when he laughs, taking nothing she said with any seriousness. She studies his profile in the shadow-turn-light. The heavier brow ridge makes her think of a paper she'd recently read in the Biological Reviews journal and a certainly not new theory of evolution. She almost asks if he's ever been one for a good dust-up but the implications might not sit well. The tiny crinkles at the corners of his eyes, his mouth when he laughs. How that laugh almost sounds rusty but pure at the same time; it's genuine and he hasn't done it in a while, has he? "Probably not. Sheila and I wouldn't get along. I can be territorial, and with out a microwave, how would you manage?" She doesn't tell him about her aversion to mirrors, and instead enjoys the tale for what it is. She makes note that he knows, if poorly, how to play guitar, and can almost see him admiring Andy's collection. He'd be prohibited to touch the ones in the acrylic cases, but there's a few she'd be willing to let him strum. It would be a huge step forward in her own grief-processing, letting go just a tiny bit instead of enshrining everything from her brother's life into a tomb fuller than his own. "Doesn't surprise me. If any thing, it…it makes me relax, and possibly even admire you. I have a phone, but it's mostly for work. I actually prefer writing long-hand, on stationary. I know, I know. I'd do it by candlelight, too. But mostly I hate having to compete with a screen when conversing. I feel both writing and conversation are becoming lost arts." She nods when he gets into the gift of self and she finds herself nodding purposefully. All part of Aloha, though she doesn't say so. She loves the way he answers the next question, easy as you please. Grandpa music could be anything from things like AC/DC all the way back to the Glenn Miller, Tommy Dorsey era, and she likes that he enjoys vinyl. Some day he's going to fall in love with her apartment and never want to leave. He and Andy would have been fast friends, and she feels a pang as she imagines both of them sitting shoulder-to-shoulder in the music room, sipping at a single malt, and smiling while losing themselves in the music. She doesn't laugh at his pun mostly because she doesn't hear it, but her smile should be enough to convey her warmth toward him anyway. "I knit." Barely enough breath to be actual words. "Spend a lot of time on causes an' charities." Beth never met a protest she didn't like, Andy used to say. Watching his face fall is like watching a barrel collapse when you're still in the tube. It knocks her off the conversation the way the wave can sweep her off her board. She breathes in guilt. She breathes in grief. She only comes up for air when his hand anchors her. Touch has always been important to Beth. Words lie, but touch never has. His is gentle in its grasp, his thumb says things that maybe he can't. She squeezes right back and leans slightly toward him but not enough to distract his driving.

His next confession drops her heart into her stomach. She knows what it is like to lose a parent at that young age. She was ten when her mother walked out of her and Andy's life, leaving them with the Admiral and everything that came after. Beth has never forgiven her for it, and has carried the guilt of being so terrible, so unlovable that her mother never once tried to contact her again, went on to a new life, and even got herself a new set of children. She might as well have died, for all the relationship had deteriorated. At the same time, it sounds an awful lot like he took over the same role Andy had, being a parent, a sibling, a protective wall against the outside world. There's a car park on the corner, and still a few blocks before they get to the diner. "Oh, Ben," she whispers, and chokes up on his tone of voice. "Can you…can you pull over just a second?" It wouldn't do to try and pull him into a hug while he's behind the wheel, putting pedestrians and other vehicles, themselves, at risk. There are so many things Beth takes with a child's ocean of faith, never once questioning the potential for them not to be true, but one thing she doesn't believe for a single second is coincidence. Somewhere there is an invisible hand that puts things into motion at the time they are needed most, and she cannot think meeting Ben was an accident. "I promise nothing bad."

"My toaster's a hussy?" Ben echoed, the glimmer in his eyes reflecting the overhead streetlamps. "I'm sorry, but Sheila has nothing on your Casanova of a microwave." He laughed then, amused by the absurdity of it all -- of being able to laugh period, and freely, happily. "Maybe you two should never officially meet."

Music and motion...

The conversation drifted to dance, and Ben hummed approvingly. "Me too," he affirmed, "but only in front of my bedroom mirror. Growing up, I hosted many an impromptu concert in my bedroom, and all horribly underwhelming." He grinned. "First, it naturally began with some air guitar. Then by my thirteenth birthday, my dad saved up for a real one, and I took lessons. I still play every so often...nothing amazing, like Eric Clapton or Jimi Hendrix, but serviceable for my own personal amusement. Or delusion, if you don't think I'm up to snuff."

Ellie's concession that he must have great stories made him smile, albeit self-consciously. Perhaps it was his father's teachings forever ingrained in him -- be humble, be kind -- but no matter the reason, it was rather difficult to think of himself as interesting. "Maybe," he agreed. "But would it surprise you to hear I don't own a lick of social media? I had a LinkedIn for a while, but even that became too much to bear...my employers would prefer that I have a more tangible footprint -- makes it easier for the parents to look into, I suppose -- but I grew up in an age without it, and that's what I enjoyed." He shrugged. "Our lives should be our own...a precious gift we only share with a select few -- the ones who matter to us. I have no desire to be known by the whole world."

Her question about his "official old man trait" brought another smile to his face, albeit crooked. "Bad puns and grandpa music, hands-down," Ben replied. "I still opt for records over CDs and MP3s, so you'll find anything from Jim Croce to Sinatra on my shelves." He paused for dramatic effect, then wryly concluded, "Because I have no shelf control."

And just like that, with only a handful of words, Ben's heart plummeted and his smile receded along his face, much like the waves escaping the shore. He took comfort in Ellie's words -- they were beautiful despite the raw, gaping ache in his chest -- and for a long moment, he was silent. Her admission of wishing she'd had someone, a friend to shoulder the burden, caused that ache to travel up toward his throat and burn there, searing in its intensity.

On impulse, Ben lifted his hand. For a moment, he hovered it over a stray fast food wrapper, pretending as though he might merely be seeking to tidy up, before he ultimately brushed it aside in favor of taking Ellie's hand. He squeezed her fingers in his palm, lightly running his thumb over her knuckles, and her husky admission caused his heart to skip a beat.

"I'm sure I would have," Ben softly offered. "If he was a fraction of what you are..." With the words halting on his tongue, he swallowed them back in favor of politeness, if only because he was well aware of sibling rivalry and how no one, no one could ever be the same person.

"No," he finally spoke, shaking his head. "Or rather...not recently. My mother passed when I was eleven, so I took on a lot of the responsibilities around the house. I had to protect my brother, Samuel...it's what I'd always vowed, even though I was arguably far too young to do so when he was born." He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel in nervous agitation. "I wish the ones we love could only be buried in our hearts, not...not cold, unfeeling holes in the ground."

Jaw tense, Ben closed his eyes for a moment -- don't you cry; don't you dare cry! -- before he opened them again, exhaling in a long, shaky breath. "It was Sammy," he mumbled. "I lost him about five months ago."

[mercurygray]

The Ambassadors

A Constellation-verse fic  - Part 3

Ben and Mary are in Paris - and Mary is making her society debut. Les Americaines are coming - and invasion has never looked quite so stylish.

In the morning, over breakfast, Gilbert asked his wife politely how her evening had been.

"Well enough," she responded. "And yours?" Her eyes glanced thoughtfully between her husband and Ben, while Mary read her book and sipped her morning chocolate, her own expression vague. Mary doubted there were any secrets between the Marquis and his wife, but still, it was nice, sometimes, to let people wonder. She rather thought Adrienne would appreciate a woman who did not boast of her conquests.

"Well enough," Gilbert responded with a thoughtful smile of his own. "We should be going  - our appointment at the Legation is early." He rose from his chair, and Ben followed him, tucking his napkin under his plate.

"So soon?" Mary asked, taking her husband's peck on the cheek and watching him go. "I thought..."

Ben shrugged. "I need to have my credentials inspected before they will receive me at court."

"Never fear, cherie, I will bring him back entirely in one piece," Gilbert promised.

"And while they are about thier business, we shall have infinitely more fun," Adrienne promised, catching Mary's eye across the table. "Men come to Paris for the politics, and women for the clothes. I have appointments booked with all my dressmakers. They will say at court that les Americaines are frightful hags, and I intend to prove them wrong - for they have not met you yet."

The frank appreciation in her tone and gaze made Mary flush a little bit, but she could not deny she had not been looking forward to going to court in what she'd brought with her. "Calme, Benjamin!" Adrienne interjected with a laugh. "I will spare her dress allowance, I promise. It shall be my gift - there is nothing I like better than a new frock - and planning a whole wardrobe for your charming wife shall be just the thing to lift my spirits - and hers, I hope."

Ben looked unconvinced, but he leaned in and gave Mary another kiss. "Do not let her bully you," he cautioned quietly, making Mary laugh.

"I shall be as resolute as granite," she promised. "Go and present yourself to Ambassador Adams."

A quick squeeze on the shoulder, and then they were gone. Mary finished her chocolate and bookmarked her page. "I am ready when you are," she announced. Adrienne's smile could not have been more delighted.

A trip out of the house meant, first, that Mary had to change clothes. That they were going shopping to fix this problem seemed of secondary importance - the Marquise was adamant that Mary not be seen in public in anything less than at her very best. After her costume was corrected (a discarded dress of Adrienne's, still quite new, and a jacket to match) the carriage was called and the two women (and several footmen) descended on the fashion salons of Paris. "But first, Doucet!" The Marquise exclaimed.

Ah, Doucet. The man of the hour, the mind of the age - dresser to the queen and anyone who was anyone at court. Mary could not help but marvel as the carriage pulled up outside his studio, wondering what lay ahead inside. Adrienne was very well known here - every door was open to her with fawning smiles and many bows and curtseys, chairs produced, sweets brought, champagne offered as pattern books and samples were assembled as the master dresser himself descended to kiss hands and coo over what was being worn, inquire about the reason for the visit. A new frock for Madame? "Not for me, you understand, but for Madame Tallmadge. She comes with her husband in the American Legation. A good freind of my husband's. She has come all the way from New York and has nothing to wear. And beauty like this should be shown off."

And that was all it took.  Colors selected (with Madame's dark hair, she was better in strong tones) and fabrics chosen (Silk suited Madame better than the fashion for colored muslins), the pattern books were passed between Doucet and Adrienne, the two talking in low tones as if Mary were not there. She stood in her shift on the measuring stool as a series of sempstresses took measurements and scurried off and Adrienne and the designer sat and gossiped on the couch about who had run off with whom, who was drinking too much and who too little, who had retreated to the country with her fabulously handsome confessor and who had been seen going to La Philosophe, the brothel for those with interesting tastes.

Doucet's latest bit of juicy news was about a party expected to be held on Saturday and who had been invited. "You'll be going, of course?" He asked with a knowledgeable smile. "Le Coeur-Fer will be there."

"Le Coeur-Fer is old news," Adrienne said with a smile, while Mary tried to follow who this Iron-Heart person was. "But Madame Tallmadge shall come with me."

Doucet seemed interested in this news, but said nothing else on the subject, and let the conversation drift to other topics.

Once the measurements were taken (and a box of the macarons on which Adrienne had been snacking packed for Mary) they went on to the next stop, for shoes and stockings, and the next for linens, and finally the jewelers, until the back of the carriage was quite filled with boxes and Mary was quite sure Adrienne had spent a small fortune. "But you must have a good debut," the Marquise replied, when the objection was raised. "You came to Paris to have fun, and we must oblige you."

Mary could not argue with that. "Who is Le Coeur Fer?"

"An old lover - nothing worth talking about. But we must find a distraction for you at the Countess' party," Adrienne encouraged. "Someone utterly charming. I shall keep an eye out. And of course,” she added, looking infinitely pleased, “Now that Doucet knows, the whole of Paris will know.”

In the days that followed, when they went for a drive in the park or attended a concert, the eyes of the crowd followed them, thier names whispered behind gloves and fans. Monsieur and Madame Tallmadge, visiting from America. Such a handsome couple - a war hero, you know, fought with the Marquis - and she is so pretty! Nothing like Mrs. Adams, who does not know how to dress. Anonymous friends sent flowers, chocolates, calling cards embellished with pseudonyms, bits of poetry that Mary read aloud to Ben when he returned from his meetings. “Should you like me to find you someone?” she asked, as they lay in bed one evening, bright with sweat. 

“I need nothing but your happiness,” Ben replied. But she could see a glimmer in his eyes, and resolved that if she should find someone at this party, it would be a passion they might share. (She liked Martha’s way with these things; it kept everything agreeable. It seemed selfish, that she should have a bit of fun and Ben, owing to his position, should not. As a member of the embassy he could not be seen to be available - but nothing stopped Mary from entertaining.)

How bright the rest of the room looked as the four of them descended into the promised party! "You look ravishing," Ben had whispered in her ear in the carriage, his nose just brushing her ear. "The red suits you so well."

 "If you do not get at least ten offers tonight I shall eat my hat," Gilbert promised quietly himself. "Venus could add nothing to this.”

The men disappeared off to the cardroom once they arrived, leaving Adrienne and Mary to their own devices. The Marquise approached the master of ceremonies, and made the necessary arrangements for the delivery of inquiries. Everyone in this world had a name, brandished like a calling card. Adrienne was La Luciole, the Firefly - Gilbert was Le Frene, the Ash Tree.  "What name shall be given?" The maitre asked, making a note in his small black book. "L'Americaine," Adrienne said with flourish. The maitre nodded and wrote it down.

"And now we wait," Adrienne said, taking Mary's arm so that they might walk around the room, the eyes of the whole crown following the two of them. "This is the better way of doing things - if a party is interested, they will speak with Le Maitre, who will write the inquiry down in his book. He shall speak with us later about who has expressed an interest."

They danced and drank and then went and supervised the winning of a small fortune by Ben before returning to the main hall for still more dances and gossip and compliments on their dresses. Adrienne kept up a running commentary on the intricacies of this little world, who was already sleeping with whom and who - “Smile like you mean to murder, just that way, yes! Oh, my dear, how delicious you looked just then in your red - like you could eat a man.”  - was considering making new arrangements. And then the Maitre approached, smiling, as ever, opening his little book up to Adrienne's careful eye.

"Le Renard, Le Dragon, L'Arbusque, Le Petit Sang, La Papillion...no, no, no, no...too old, too foppish, not your type at all..." Adrienne ran down the list of names until her eyes lit up. "Oh. Oh, yes. Le Chene."

Mary followed her host's eyes through the crowd until she saw where she was looking - a pair of broad shoulders filling a tasteful suitcoat, hair in a style that did not tend to the ridiculous - and good god, was that red she saw beneath the powder? (Her husband had a passion for redheads, and she was ashamed to say it was rubbing off on her.) 

She had noticed him, in the crowd, earlier, but had not danced with him - though now that she thought on it, he had always been close at hand. He turned and caught Mary's eye, his expression the merest hint of a smile, and she felt her body flutter the same way it did when Ben looked at her across a room. "He certainly lives up to his name," she observed quietly, trying to remain aloof. Adrienne smiled. "One hopes his height isn't the only thing that speaks of oaks," she insinuated. "I've never had the pleasure. But I do know he and Gilbert share several friends...all men. You might bring him home to share," the Marquise purred. Mary considered the possibility of this young Hercules and her own beloved Mars and felt a distinct weakness in her knees. 

"Let Le Chene known L'Americaine would be happy to receive him this evening," she said to the Maitre.  Adrienne looked pleased as punch, and Mary went to go deliver the news to Ben. "I'm going home early," she related quietly. "To...finish a letter to Martha."

Ben's expression piqued at the mention of their code, the phrase they'd managed between them to mean 'go home with a lover.' "May I add a post-script?" Ben asked, stroking the inside of her wrist. Can I join you later?

Mary shook her head. "Not to this letter, but...maybe the next."

He nodded, and let her go, kissing the knuckles of her hand in parting. It's not being disloyal, she kept telling herself, climbing into the carriage and climbing the steps to her room. It's all been settled. 

In the end she was pleased with her choice - Le Chene was, indeed, very much like an oak - and a very accomodating, thoughtful one at that.

[brooklynislandgirl]

What are some physical things your muse does when they want someone to sleep with them?

Body of Evidence || Accepting

The 1770 House hadn't disappointed. Their dinner date had been candle-lit and lingering, slow enough to talk and laugh in a way that seems particular to them ~in turns sweet and amusing, deeply philosophical, sometimes nerdy, and underpinned with the tragedies that brought them together in the first place~ but timeless from the first sip of the sparkling rose, to the last sip of coffee. Afterwards there was just as leisurely walk. Ever the gentleman, Ben draped his coat around her and for just a few moments, she tugged the lapels close to her face so that she could breathe in his aftershave and the warmth of him. They ended up catching a cab back to the Manor. Beth hangs her coat and lets Ben get comfortable while she puts on Chopin's complete Nocturnes. A press of the button sets the prepared coffee for brewing though he doesn't have to have any when she presents him his cake. When she finds him again, he's of course in the library. And she knew that this would be his favourite room in the massive sprawl. Had predicted it when she made the offer to spend a weekend away. He cuts an elegant figure in front of the leather-bound tomes, some of which are older than the house, older than the first roots of the Riley clan in America, and not all of them written in English. Something stirs low in her belly as she watches him for a moment or two. Eventually she makes her way over, nimble and silent as a mouse, before her arms wrap around his waist, one hand remaining near his hip, the other sliding upwards to rest just below his heart. She presses herself into his back. Her nose finds the hollow of his spine and the tip of it is separated from his skin only by his shirt as she half-closes her eyes and breathes him in. The sharp points of her teeth sink into her lower lip for a second. "Hi."