#but losing horatio so so suddenly im just

[fooltofancy]

this kitten is so full of snot and lenore is so full of cough and i am so full of anxiety.

[suits-of-woe]

im shaking.. would you do fluffy hamratio?? maybe like a fix it or something... i love them!!

Thanks for the prompt and sorry for taking ages to write it! There’s honestly so many good options for alternate Hamlet endings that I had trouble choosing, but I went with one where Laertes ends up getting second thoughts about killing Hamlet and ultimately becomes king bc I honestly feel like Hamlet’s ideal life involves him being as far from the crown as possible.

Laertes is the kind of man whois far quicker to forgive than to actually admit he’s forgiven. All thingsconsidered, in Horatio’s mind, this isn’t the best of the new king’s qualities,but, in light of his other virtues, can be overlooked easily enough. Because whileLaertes might not be able to match wits with Hamlet, he’s certainly not stupidenough to think banishment is actually an undesirable punishment for the formerheir. If anything, though he’d never admit it, he’s done him a favor.

The coach is far from fit for aking, but it’s small enough that it’s only natural for its inhabitants to betouching, a fact that Hamlet has thoroughly taken advantage of. He lies withhis head against Horatio’s chest and Horatio’s hands combing through his hairas Horatio murmurs his way through an account of Nero’s early reign. He putdown the book he’d been reading from about an hour ago when his arm started tocramp. Hamlet seems to like his version better anyway.

It’s only when Horatio pausesfor a long moment, stumbling over some half-forgotten detail, that Hamlet openshis mouth.

“You’re a born scholar,” hesays reverently. Then his brow creases. “Of course, you’re going to stay atWittenberg. It’s as good as made for you.”

His intonation doesn’t suggesta question, but Horatio knows him well enough to understand that it is one. Hetries to phrase his answer carefully.

“I didn’t have other plans,” hesays mildly. “And my scholarship still applies as far as I know. It’s probablythe most obvious place.”

“Probably,” Hamlet echoes. “Andthat’s not to say that – I’ll be wherever you are, I mean, if you’ll have me.”

“Of course, my lord—”

“Not your lord,” Hamletinterrupts, a little too sharply. He raises his head and looks Horatio straightin the eyes. “Not anymore.”

Horatio cringes inwardly.

“Right. Yes. I’m sorry. I’msorry, Hamlet.” He can feel color rising to his cheeks. It’s ridiculous that he’sspent more hours naked with Hamlet than he can count, and yet using his realname still feels intimate enough to make him blush. “Force of habit.”

“I know.”

Hamlet smiles, relaxing alittle, but doesn’t lay his head back down.

“That’s the problem with Wittenberg,”he says after a brief silence. “Everyone there only knows me as the prince. Evenyou. Well, no, not you. But you’re the only one who doesn’t.”

“That’s true,” Horatio agreesevenly. He’s been trying not to think about it, waiting for Hamlet to bring itup first. Throwing away that kind of money feels beyond irresponsible, but evenso, it’s complicated.

“And it would be odd, too,without...” Hamlet trails off.

Without Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, Horatio mentally finishes thesentence for him. And it’s true. It’s hard enough to imagine returning withoutthem at all, but considering the fact that Hamlet was the one to have themkilled, he can’t imagine looking their mutual friends in the face. Too manyghosts there now, just like Elsinore.

“Let’s not go then,” Horatiosuggests, and he can tell it was the right thing to say by the way Hamlet’sbrow instantly unknits. “I mean, I’ll need to get my things. And we need toleave the country somehow anyway. But after that, we’ll go somewhere else.”

“Alright,” Hamlet agrees, barelypausing for breath. “We will.”

Horatio presses a kiss intoHamlet’s hair and lets out his own silent sigh of relief. It’s all so differentfrom how he imagined things ending. Hamlet isn’t happy, exactly, but then,after losing both his mother and Ophelia within the week, he can’t imagineanyone would be. But he doesn’t seem to be breaking either, no more than he hasbeen for the past few months. He’s startling...okay.

“Do you mind this?” Horatioasks. “Really?”

“I...” Hamlet pauses,thoughtful, but still steady. “I wish someone would visit my mother’s grave.”

Of everything that’s happened,Horatio knows, the queen’s death hit him the hardest. Of course, if she hadn’tdrank from the poisoned goblet, god knows Hamlet might have been the one tofall for it, and Laertes might not have been moved to expose the king and put astop to his revenge. She as good as died for him. That’s probably why it upsetsHamlet so much, because he didn’t know she loved him enough to do it until shewas already gone.

“She’s with my father nowthough,” Hamlet continues. “That’s...how it always should have been, I think. Notthat I wanted her dead, but they should have been together. And I know Laerteswill look after Ophelia. And I think...I think I’ve honestly had my fair shareof ghosts for a lifetime.”

“Definitely.”

“And I finally have an excuseto force you to use my real name,” Hamlet laughs, and Horatio can see most ofthe clouds over his expression clearing away. “So it could be worse, don’t youthink?”

“I’m just glad you’re alive,”Horatio says softly.

“I am too,” Hamlet agrees. He laughsa little. “Imagine that.”

Yes, Horatio thinks. It’sastonishing how okay they really are after all this.

Hamlet’s eyes light upsuddenly. “Horatio, what do you say we buy a boat?”

“A boat? Do you...know how tosail?”

“Well enough. Pirates aresurprisingly good teachers. You’d pick it up faster than I did, I bet.”

“I suppose if we have the moneyfor it.”

“Perfect. We’re buying a boat.We can take it somewhere warm.” He grins. “We could go to Rome. You’d likethat, Horatio, wouldn’t you?”

“I’d love it, my—Hamlet.”

Hamlet reaches a hand aroundHoratio’s neck and smashes their lips together with a vigor that speaks of bothpain yet to fade and joy yet to come. In a second he’s trailing kisses downHoratio’s jawline, running his hands all over his chest, and by the timeHoratio can make himself pull away he’s already dizzy.

“The driver,” he manages to getout. “It’s not exactly private—”

“So?” Hamlet counters. “We’rejust two common men. Why would he care about us?”

[fooltofancy]

lenore's been sleeping in a weird corner the last couple of days and i can't tell if she's just mad i moved the cat tree or if she's like. ill.

or if she's just being weird.