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quill-pen · 2 years ago

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A Good Man

Just a little drabble I wrote, more so wanted to get out ideas about Ebenezer's past that have been circling around my head for a little while. Of course, it turned sappy. And then got just a touch spicy at the end.

Nothing graphic--rated 'T' I'd say. Minors, you're safe.

Synopsis: Ebenezer Scrooge is a good man. If only he could see and accept that.

Pairings: Ebenezer Scrooge X Bess (OC)

Warnings: Angst, mentions of past neglect and maybe child abuse, self-loathing, semi-self-harm, crying and emotional Ebenezer (my heart!), sappiness, declarations of love (probably all super cringy), groping and just a hint of implied spice at the end because Ebeness--DUH!

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It had been 25 years to the day. Nine thousand one hundred and thirty-one days since the death of his father. And, as he always felt irrationally compelled to do, Ebenezer Scrooge had pulled out the beaten-up old lockbox from the deep dark corner of the chest it remained buried in until this day every year and would be returned to when he'd finished. The box contained a handful of letters written to him decades ago, all by his father. They were all short, to the point, and lacking any sort of warmth or fondness.

October 13th, 1805 Son, I have received your complaints about your school and teachers, and acknowledge your desire to come home. Change is frightening as can being so far away from home and family. My advice to you is to toughen up and stay the course. The world is a harsh place, Ebenezer: Think of this as a lesson in that. Your Father, Abner J. Scrooge P.S. I suggest you not write asking to be brought home again as it will only prove to be a waste of good ink and paper and an embarrassment to us both.

January 7, 1806 Son, Your mother, sister and I went away for Christmas and have only just returned home. Needless to say, I'm afraid I've only just now received your letter and request to return home for the holidays. Your mother and sister missed you dearly and your grandparents wondered where you were, but I know it was better for you that you stayed at school. You'll be that much farther ahead in your studies, won't you? Christmas is always the same anyway--you didn't miss out. Seasons Greetings, Abner J. Scrooge

May 3, 1806 Ebenezer, I'm writing to let you know I have secured a summer job for you. Rather than return home for the summer holidays, you will be going to work for friends of the Headmaster's: a Mr. and Mrs. Dilby. They have a farm there in Cumbria. They've agreed to waive fees for your room and board so long as you pull your weight. And I know you will, won't you, Son? Write to your mother and sister--they are missing you. Tell them your summer plans but do not make mention of me. Tell them you've decided this. Regards, Abner J. Scrooge

Abner Josiah Scrooge had not been... an easy man to deal with. He hadn't really been a harsh man--at least, at first. The sixth child and fourth son of a lowly Baron, Abner could hardly have hoped to inherit his father's title, or much money or property, so he'd gone out and become a lawyer--a rather successful one, too. With that success had naturally come money, and with that money had, unfortunately, come the vices: drink, gambling, occasionally women. Sometimes the man would spend money on his family, but typically the majority of it fed his habits. And the more money Abner got, the harder he played; the coin flew out of his hands faster than he could get it in them.

That was how debtor's prison had come about. That was how Ebenezer and his weakly-constituted mother and sister had moved into a rundown, drafty, cramped, two-room apartment hardly fit for rats to live in that did nothing for any of their health. That was how Ebenezer had had to become the breadwinner of the family at nine years old, working at least two jobs, sometimes three, and little odd side jobs to meagerly feed his family. That was how Ebenezer's already tenuous childhood had been lost to him. And that was how the rapid decline of his relationship with his father had begun

That fall after Ebenezer's twelfth birthday and after Abner had gotten out of debtor's prison, his father had sent him far away to boarding school. He said it was to give Ebenezer a chance at a decent education; Ebenezer knew it was because of the row they'd had all that summer. He was angry with his father for everything that he'd put the family through, and Abner had no desire to deal with the drama: A school in the far hills of Cumbria was a good way to avoid it. Abner had done his best to keep his son away after that, hardly allowing him home for visits for any reason; Ebenezer could count once on each hand how many times he'd come home in those years. Holidays were spent at the school where he was often the only boy staying. Summers were almost entirely spent working up north, sometimes on farms, sometimes in shops, sometimes in banks or workshops or factories, really anything Ebenezer had been able to find--he'd tried his hand at it all.

It hadn't all been bad, admittedly. He'd made some solid mates back then, some of which he'd gotten back into regular contact with since he'd changed; and he'd made some good memories (a few of them rather lurid--like Mr. Corshack's spitfire of a niece). And he'd learned and experienced so much he wouldn't have otherwise--his work ethic to this day could testify to that. But it had never been Ebenezer's choice--always his father's. Ebenezer had just... simply stopped fighting it after a while; it seemed better than fighting to come home only to end up bellowing and brawling with the man and upsetting Jen and Ma.

November 18, 1809 Greetings, I've received your request to come home for Christmas this year. It baffles me why you should want to when it's proven so much more profitable for you to stay at school the past several years. Therefore, for your sake, my boy, I cannot possibly allow such a request. Stay in school, work hard, and get ahead. After all, we both know the misery that will befall this house should both of us reside in it for any period of time. Spending Christmas away from each other is much more pleasant--wouldn't you agree, Ebenezer? Sincerely, Abner J. Scrooge

February 1, 1811 Son, I am writing you this to wish you a happy birthday and hope it reaches you in time and finds you well. You're a man now, my son, and it's time for you to take your place in the world. This is what these last several years have been preparing you for and I hope you have the gumption to meet it head on. What you do after graduating, is, of course, up to you. Should you return to London, I expect you to seek and find your own accommodations as you will not be allowed to stay in our house. I will also expect you to find and acquire a job no later than two weeks after arriving, as I have no intention of helping you pay for your housing. It's time for you to be a man now. Welcome to the world, Abner J. Scrooge P.S. Ah, yes--I almost forgot: Happy birthday, Ebenezer.

Ebenezer went back and forth between the letters, reading them over and over again, studying them. The handwriting looked so much like his own--only a tad sloppier. Once again, a thick gloom settled over the former miser. Growing up, he'd wanted nothing more than to be the exact opposite of his father; to be wise with his finances and secure, to be loyal, to be kind and loving and content with what he had. While he had and was all of those things now, it had taken him far too long to get there. It had taken a miraculous, supernatural intervention to turn him around, and the fact that he did, in his mind at least, did not detract from the fact of what he'd become and done before. In his desire to be the opposite of his father, Ebenezer had become a worse man than Abner had ever been in most ways, and exactly like him in others. Hell, he'd even aged into him: The face he saw staring out at him when he looked in the mirror was almost the spitting image of his father's! How anyone could ever admire that face....

"Ah, here you are," a warm, melodic voice reached the banker's ears.

Ebenezer looked up from the letters in his hands to see his American bride standing in the doorway, smirking at him as she leaned against the doorpost. Despite his mood, the man couldn't help but smile, his heart instantly swelling with love for the beautiful, young woman that had, for some miraculous reason, chosen him to be her husband. "You know all you need do is whistle and I'll come running, Sweetness," he remarked with a playful wink.

Bess' freckled cheeks flushed ever so slightly as she came into the bedroom. "I know," she chuckled. "You're such a good wolf for that. But I'm a wolf, too, remember? We like the hunt."

Ebenezer snorted and rolled his eyes as he held a hand out to her.

Bess gladly took it and sat down beside him on the mattress, instantly snuggling into his side and wrapping her arms around his waist. She smiled into the kiss he pressed to her mouth, reveling in the familiar, warm, smoothness of his lips against hers. A contented sigh left her lungs. "I love how automatic that is," she whispered against the man's lips when he pulled back. "And I love you."

Ebenezer smiled softly and nuzzled his nose against her as he squeezed her close. "I love it and you too," he murmured, pressing another kiss into her coal-black hair.

Bess leaned into it. "I have a confession to make," she admitted, smiling guiltily up at her husband.

Ebenezer cocked a busy, silver-speckled eyebrow and smirked. "Oh, yes?"

"I didn't hunt--I knew exactly where you'd be." Her midnight-blue eyes became sad, empathetic in their concern for him. "I finally actually looked at the calendar and realized what day it is." She gently squeezed his waist as she rested her head on his shoulder, gazing up into his face as she watched his expressions. "Are you all right, Wolfy?" The question was soft, full of love and care for him: Ebenezer felt his heart throb with adoration for his wife yet again because of it.

The Englishman sighed deeply, pulling his gaze from hers. "Yes," he answered sincerely. "Mostly. I suppose. As all right as I can ever seem to be on this day, it seems." His eyes fell back to the papers in his hands and he absently shifted them around.

Bess' eyes went to them too, her face creasing with slight disgust. Those letters were a major cause of her beloved hubby's currently dower mood, and the Yank did not appreciate it. She hated to see the man she loved so much so low in spirits: A somber Ebenezer just wasn't really Ebenezer. "I know why you keep them," she mentioned of the letters, "but I still wish you wouldn't. They make you so sad." She looked back up at her husband and reached up to cup his far cheek in her hand and bring his face closer to hers. "I don't like it when you're sad, Love; it hurts my heart." The woman pressed a lingering kiss to her man's chin and nuzzled into his muttonchops ever so tenderly as she murmured: "I just only ever want to see you happy."

Ebenezer softly chuckled, bowing his head to touch his brow to hers. "I know, Sweetness," he whispered, slate-blue gazing into midnight-blue again. "And I'm sorry to upset you, but I just..." he trailed off into another sigh as he gestured to the letters in his hand.

"You can't get rid of them," Bess finished for him, knowingly. "Just like I'll never be able to forget about all the things Mama said to me growing up. They're reminders."

"Reminders... never to be like him," Ebenezer murmured nearly to himself as he looked through the letter again. A pang of bitterness stabbed through his heart and he snorted harshly, derisively. "All the good that did."

Bess pulled back from him a little bit, narrowing her gaze in suspicion. "What is that supposed to mean?" she snapped. Her voice sounded a little bit harsher than she intended it to, but only because she had an idea of where Ebenezer was going with this claim, and she knew she wouldn't like it.

The man looked at her, meeting and holding her hard gaze. "I grow up all but despising my father--loathing him--wanting nothing more than to be nothing like him." He held up the papers, clenching them in his fist. "I keep these to remind me of the kind of man he was; how cold and distant he could be--how unkind, unfeeling. For years I kept them in plain sight under my nose so that I might not forget." He laughed bitterly tossing the letters away so that they floated haphazardly about the room. "And yet, somehow, despite all that, despite how I continued to remind myself, I turned out to be just as harsh and mean and even worse-tempered than he ever was!" He balled up his fist and hit it hard against his knee--hard enough to probably bruise himself.

Bess flinched. "Ebenezer, please," she soothed, reaching over to place a hopefully calming hand on his arm.

It didn't work. Ebenezer was much too wrapped up in his gloom and dark thoughts at the moment to take notice of her. He hit his other fist against his opposite knee. The knuckles of both fists were deathly white, his grip was so strong. "I promised myself!" he fumed at himself, his face contorting into a nearly monstrous mask of fury. "Time and time again I promised myself and Jen that I would be different--that I wouldn't become my father! Well, not only did I fail in that promise by growing into his temperament, I became even worse than him in every possible aspect!"

"Ebenezer-"

He was pounding both fists against both thighs now, each strike harder and more savage than the last. His vision was starting to swim, his eyes burning with hot tears that threatened to spill over any moment. He didn't care. "I was cruel, selfish, greedy, cared for nothing but profit and no one but myself! I refused to help people when I should have and so easily could have; even my father was known to dump a boatload of money on someone who needed it when he'd been at the bottle! I was needlessly spiteful and hard on people--forced them to pay exorbitantly more than necessary, and I took pleasure in doing so!" The tears started to fall.

"Ebenezer-"

"I made people suffer, prolonged their suffering, and intentionally hurt and offended them! My father may have been a bad man, but he was nothing--nothing--compared to the monster I was--the monster I am!" The man's chest expanded sporadically as he fought for breath, his ribs feeling painfully tight, his heart racing so fast he felt it might explode. His vision started to black out at the edges. "However indirectly, there's blood on my hands: Blood of innocent men, women, and children--so much blood that I'll never know about all of it! I-I'm a bad man! A horrible, cruel, evil man! I deserve the chains and the endless wandering! I deserve a pauper's funeral and grave--I don't deserve to be mourned or remembered! I'm not a good man--I'll never be a good man! I deserve misery! I-I deserve-"

Small but strong hands suddenly closed tight around his wrists and forced his fists away from his thighs. "Ebenezer, stop! Stop, stop, STOP!" Bess' voice barked harshly, gaining his attention. The dark-haired woman knelt down between the man's legs to look up directly into his burning-red, tearful face. Her own eyes were shining with tears glittering on her lashes as she stared beseechingly up at him, holding his fists back to keep him from hurting himself further. Drawn into a thin line, her lips quivered along with her chin. "Ebenezer, please!" she breathed desperately. "Please, just... just stop. For me, just stop, please!"

Her husband stared unwaveringly at her; her gentle face--a face he loved with his whole being--immediately made a calm break over him like tidal waves against a craggy, rocky coast. His chest and ribs still ached, his temples and the muscles in his face felt tight, and he was badly shaking from head to foot, but the rage that had coursed through his veins seconds ago, the self-hatred, it had stopped full force in the warm love-light of those magnificent midnight-blue irises. Unheeded, Ebenezer's fists unfurled and he instinctively reached out for Bess, cupping her heart-shaped face between his palms. "Bess," he rasped, a whimper in his tone.

His wife reached up to hold his face in turn, ever so gently running adoring fingers over his soaked cheeks to try and wipe his tears away before holding his head in her hands. She stroked his chiseled, tear-stained cheekbones with her thumbs. "Please," she quivered, swallowing hard and trying her best to keep her tone even, "stop saying such cruel and hurtful things about the man I love." She offered him a small but determined smile. "Because very few words that have come out of your mouth have been true."

Ebenezer's heart clenched and he screwed his eyes shut, unable to keep looking at her. Those adoring words, that warm smile, her devotion and loyalty to him--he deserved none of it. He was not even remotely worthy of the smallest percentage of it! And yet she gave it to him--freely. The man shook his head within her grasp. "Bess," he groaned, "Sweetness, y-you... you can't say that--you don't... didn't know-"

"Precisely--I didn't know you back then, though I have heard just about everything about it from you, so it's not as though you've been denying or trying to hide what kind of man you used to be. And I didn't know your father, but I've heard a lot about him from you as well. So I'm the perfect person to pass judgment because I can look at you and see you without shadows; I can look at you and see you as you are now without any previous memories to taint my vision of you. Ebenezer, look at me." She gripped his face just a bit more tightly and pulled him down closer as she stretched up toward him; they were practically face-parallel-to-face. For a quiet moment, they simply stared into each other's shining eyes.

"From the moment I met you," Bess began, voice hardly above a whisper, "I've seen nothing even close to resembling either of these men you speak of. From the moment you walked through that office door with Millie on your shoulder and we shook hands, you have been nothing but sweet, kind, chivalrous, charitable, and compassionate to me, to my siblings--everyone."

Ebenezer was entranced; by her eyes, by her words, by her soft hands and skin--everything. She was all there was in the world--everything was Bess. He wanted nothing more than for it to stay that way. "Bess..."

"You're not your father, Ebenezer; and you're not the man you used to be either. You're right about them; they were bad men--cruel, nasty, evil men. But they're not you, my darling. Not anymore. If I'm not my past, Wolf, then neither are you: Whatever bitterness you feel towards yourself--whatever harshness you think you deserve, you're wrong. You deserve nothing but good things; love, happiness, peace--you deserve it all and more."

Ebenezer gently shook his head. "I've done so many bad things, Bess--so many things I can never be forgiven for and will have to answer for in the end."

"Maybe. But you're doing everything to make amends for what you can now. Let God worry about the rest." Bess gently stroked her right hand down her lover's face and brought it to rest on his chest above his heart. "If only you could see your heart as I do, my love," she sighed, rubbing her thumb against his chest, "then you could see exactly the kind of wonderful man you are." She pulled away from his grip on her face and leaned forward to press her lips against his chest between her splayed thumb and index finger. Her lipstick left a perfect print on his white, linen shirt over his heart. "You're a philanthropist," Bess stated, meeting his eyes again, "an honorable businessman, a beloved husband and father; a man with such a big, beautiful heart of gold that he shines so brightly and lights the way for everyone else who follows him." Bess slipped both of her arms around the man's waist and hugged him close again, still gazing up into his downturned face. "This world doesn't deserve you, Ebenezer Scrooge." She lowered her face from his and pressed it into his chest, closing her eyes. "I don't deserve you. You're too beautiful, too amazing, too perfect in every way to be anything other than an angel in disguise--no one is worthy of you." She peppered more kisses across his pectorals, leaving more lovely, dusky purple marks in her wake.

Ebenezer's heart clenched and throbbed with undeniable love and passion for the woman before him. He watched the top of his wife's dark head as she kissed all along his chest, gently smoothing his hands up and down her shoulders and arms. "My darling Bess," he sighed almost whimsically. "My beautiful She-Wolf. My beloved wife."

Bess looked up at him again, her chin pressed almost flat against his chest as he craned her neck back. Tears were shimmering in her eyes again. "I'm not worthy," she repeated, voice rasping, "but I love you, Ebenezer. God be praised--I love you! I've never loved anyone as much as I love you--I didn't even think it was possible to love someone this much. You're my everything; my sun, my moon, my stars, my breath, my life. The only thing I have to offer you in return are my heart, body, and soul, and I give them to you freely, unworthy of you as they are."

"They are not unworthy," Ebenezer croaked, wrapping his arms around the kneeling woman, "they are everything to me. You are everything to me."

Bess gave a gentle smile. "Then perhaps, might you listen to the words of the woman who is both your everything and gives you everything of her own free will and not the harsh words of the man who sired you or the demons in your head? Because they only seek to harm you; I only seek to help you become the best man you could possibly be--the man I know you are in your heart." She stretched out her graceful neck as the silver-haired man bowed his head to her and met him in a soft, lingering kiss so full of love it made both their insides melt into bubbling goo.

Bess slowly rose up off her knees, careful never to break the kiss. Gently pushing against Ebenezer's chest, she made him lay back on the bed, crawling up over him as he gracefully descended to the mattress. She laid down atop him, taking his face in her hands yet again as she angled her mouth over his to deepen the kiss. Instantly, tension began to build. Ebenezer's arms came around her, one locking tight around her waist, the other reaching lower for his hand to grab at her buttocks, both urging her closer to him as the desire grew. The American eagerly obliged. She traced her tongue against the seam of his lips and was quickly granted access: She dove in to meet his tongue with hers--no hesitation. She gently raked her nails down his cheek, neck, and chest; the man growled and held her more tightly.

The couple remained this way for several long, blissful moments, groaning, moaning, whimpering, nipping, licking, groping, expertly working each other up, and getting the blood boiling. When finally they parted for air, Bess gazed down into the hazy, half-lidded, slate-blue-ringed eyes of her husband. Her beautiful husband. Her marvelously wonderful husband whom she would stand between Heaven and Earth with, until the end of time.

"You are a good man, Ebenezer Charles Scrooge," she breathed, her head swimming a bit itself. "The very best man I've ever known and, undoubtedly, will ever know." She kissed his top lip ever so gently as she held his gaze before pushing herself to sit up so that she was straddling him. Then she grabbed his hands, which had come to rest on her waist, and brought them both up to her mouth. She showered them in kisses; all over the fingers, across the knuckles, the backs, each calloused fingertip. She made sure to leave obvious lip prints inside his palms and on the soft, sensitive skin of his inside wrists. The woman was brazen enough to gently stroke her tongue against him there and a thrill went through her when she felt her man shudder beneath her, his eyes widening and growing darker as he watched her and quietly whimpered.

"You're a good man, Wolf," she repeated, smiling down at the man as she gently massaged the outsides of his wrists. "A good man." The woman's smile suddenly turned saucy and a devious gleam came to her eyes. Without a second thought, she brought the Englishman's hands to her breasts and pressed them firmly to her plush and pliant mounds, squeezing his hands to encourage him to grope her. He didn't need much urging and she gasped with delight, a familiar, heady sensation fluttering low in her belly even with the barrier of clothing between their skin. She moaned as he continued his ministrations, letting her head slowly roll 'round. "Mmm. We should see just how good a man you can really be...."

Taglist: @rom-e-o @oldmanlusting @the-house-of-auditore-frye @crimson-phantom-designs @ofvampiirisms @purgratoriat if anybody else would like to be added, let me know!

Romey, why do I get the feeling this is when Gil caught them in the act?