#Willamina “Billy” the horse is a reference to Bill the Pony from LOTR

[echo-goes-mmm]

Ambrose and Elliot #29

Masterpost

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Warnings: implied past non-con

Elliot tucked another shirt into his bag. Master Ambrose had told him to pack enough for two days, but Elliot added an extra set of clothes just in case.

He hefted the luggage bag off his bed; and truthfully it wasn’t that heavy. Months ago he would have struggled with it, but not now.

He glanced out his window, down at Ambrose hitching the horse to the cart.

It wasn’t Ambrose’s horse; instead borrowed from Mr. Michael Tallow (who owned a wheat farm).

Ambrose looked to be nearly finished, which meant it was time to go. 

Elliot picked up his coin-pouch. Ambrose had said he should make a bank account to keep his money safe, and Elliot wasn’t going to argue. 

It was cold out, but the snow on the ground was gone. Instead, icy mud made the ground soft and wet. His boots made the mud squelch with every step.

Mr. Tallow’s horse looked at him with big brown eyes as he approached, and Elliot avoided the animal to put his bag in the cart.

Elliot didn’t know much about horses; just that they were big and kind of scary.

“Elliot, this is Billy,” said Ambrose, petting the horse’s face. “She’ll be taking us to Sunside, and then to Lakeview.”

Billy snorted suddenly, and Elliot flinched. 

“Technically her name is Willamina, but I like Billy for short. What do you think?”

“It’s nice.”

Ambrose must have sensed his discomfort. “She’s really gentle, if you want to pet her,” he said, voice soft and calm.

Elliot liked it when Master’s voice went all gentle and steady, like Elliot was a cat and Ambrose was coaxing him.

He might find it condescending, if he were a person. Like in the Before Time.

But it was Ambrose, and he loved Elliot. Even though he wasn’t really a person anymore. There was only kindness in his voice, not derision.

“Okay,” he said. Elliot stepped around the cart to Billy, and she flicked her ears.

He hesitated. 

Ambrose gently took his hand and guided him to Billy’s neck.

Her brown coat was rough, and dirty, and very warm.

“See? Nothing to worry about.” 

___________________

The weather was chilly, but Elliot’s winter clothes kept him safe. He worried about Billy for a while, until Ambrose told him she would be warm from pulling the cart, and her breed was hardy.

Still, he was glad to see the looming white mountains brimming with snow pass further and further behind them. 

They ate a packed lunch on the way; sandwiches and a mix of dried fruit and nuts.

The sun came out behind the clouds after a few hours, and Elliot enjoyed the fresh air and sunshine on his face.

Ambrose showed him how to steer, and handed the reins to him. He only managed it for a few minutes before he got too jittery, but Ambrose seemed pleased that he tried.

___________________

It was evening when they got to the inn. It wasn’t one he recognized, but he still shook when they pulled up to the attached stable.

Ambrose and the stablehand talked as Elliot grabbed the luggage.

“Oh, thanks,” said Ambrose as Elliot handed him his bag. 

Elliot didn’t say anything, trailing behind Master on the way inside. 

The inn was busy, which helped soothe his anxiety. A busy innkeeper wouldn't have the time to be cruel.

“Name?” asked the woman at the stand.

“Ambrose, one night, please.”

She nodded, jotting it down. “Double bed, or two singles?”

“Two singles.”

She turned around and took two keys off a hook labeled, ‘six’.

“Here you go,” she said, “room six is on the second floor, and the bar and dining room is that way.”

“Thanks.”

Ambrose handed Elliot one of the keys.

They headed upstairs, and Elliot picked the bed furthest from the door.

“I’m going downstairs to get a drink and some dinner,” said Ambrose. “Do you want to come?”

Elliot shook his head.

“Alright. I could have someone send a plate up for you; is that okay?”

“Oh, um, sure. Thank you.”

Ambrose smiled, and ruffled his hair on his way out. “Of course, sweetheart.”

___________________

Ambrose settled down at the bar. It had been a while since he’d gone out, and he was looking forward to a drink.

“Daiquiri, please.”

The bartender made it quickly, and Ambrose tipped him well as a thank you.

He took his time with his meal, and made sure one was sent up to Ellie.

Ambrose hoped Elliot was alright. He always hoped he was alright.

A woman slid into the seat next him, tall with dark hair.

“Hi,” she said, “far from home?”

“In a way,” he replied, nearing a smile. “How about you?”

“Definitely. Hey, can I buy you a drink?” she asked, tapping the bar next to his almost-empty glass. “I’m Amy, by the way.”

“Ambrose. I’m really flattered, but I’m married.”

“I don’t see a ring,” she smiled. “Are you sure?” 

“I left it at home,” he said truthfully, side-stepping the fact he hadn’t worn his ring in decades. “Can’t be too careful on the road.”

“Mm,” she said, batting her eyelashes. “I see.”

“I don’t think my husband would appreciate infidelity, and considering my assistant and I are sharing a room for a business trip, I’ll really have to pass.”

“Ah, well,” she sighed, “maybe the lady in the corner booth is single.”

Ambrose glanced over at the booth. A redheaded woman sat alone, sipping on a pint.

“I wish you luck, Amy,” he toasted her, with the remains of his daiquiri. He finished his glass, and ordered another as Amy left the bar.

___________________

He swayed upstairs into the room. Ambrose unlocked it in a smooth motion, which told him he wasn’t as tipsy as he felt.

Curse being a lightweight.

He could see the outline of Elliot on his bed, bathed in the moonlight of the window.

“Are you drunk?” asked Ellie, quiet as a mouse.

“No, love. Just tipsy.” His brain was running a little slow, but it caught up to Elliot’s quickly enough.

“I’m not gonna touch you,” he said, sitting on his own assigned bed. He began to toe off his shoes.

“Okay,” said Elliot, and something was wrong.

Something was always wrong, but Ambrose didn’t mind.

Well, he hated that Elliot was suffering, but Elliot was his closest friend, and Ambrose would do anything for him.

“Have you been scared up in the room this whole time, sweetheart?”

“...no,” he said, “Just when you came in.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Elliot huddled smaller on the bed, but didn’t say anything.

Ambrose couldn’t see his face in the dark, but he knew what Elliot looked like when he was scared.

“Could… could I ask why you’re scared of me here, instead of at home?” He didn’t understand why Elliot was so frightened. They shared a bed at home, sometimes, what made sharing a room for a night scarier?

Elliot turned, and Ambrose could see part of his face in the moonbeams.

“I’ve done a lot of things in inns,” he said, shame in his voice. “For food. And sleep. It wasn’t… nice things.”

“People hurt you, and you let them because otherwise you would starve,” Ambrose guessed, and Elliot flinched, burrowing his face into his knees.

“Yeah,” he said, choked up.

“That’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No. It’s their fault for hurting you. They didn’t need to do that. They could have just helped.”

“I dunno.”

Ambrose swallowed thickly. He wasn’t sober enough for this conversation, but he’d do his best.

“Well. I know it isn’t your fault. Can that be enough, for now?”

“Mm,” sniffed Elliot. “I- I think s-so.”

Ambrose hesitated. “Do you want me to come over?”

“No, no, I- could you stay over there? Please? I don’t… I don’t think I want to- to be touched.”

“Okay. That’s fine. I’ll be here, if you need me.”

“...maybe just a hug?”

Ambrose slowly walked over, as not to spook him, and Elliot wrapped his arms around him.

Ambrose gave him a tight squeeze, and Elliot let out a shuddering breath.

“Thank you,” said Ellie, pressing into him. “For not… for not hurting me.”

“Of course, love,” he said, “Of course.”

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