#my favorite that i've thought of so far is forcing james and silna into ben and april's plotline of getting stuck in a parking garage
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Crozier/Fitzjames, fake amnesia
from this list of reverse tropes for fic writers. i told @firstelevens I wasnât sure I had it in me to write fic for these two and then I went and washed my hair and while I did that, this idea popped into my head fully formed and I was bound by honor to write it down. Also itâs the first thing my brain has wanted to write in like two months, so I took that as a good sign?? Anyway, hereâsâŚsomething. Kind of a Parks and Rec AU?? but also not in any serious way? Itâs likeâŚwhat if these dudes from The Terror worked in local government or whatever⌠donât worry about logistics, I mostly wanted to write Blanky and Crozier being best friends and also talk about sobriety feelings a bunch. AND THEN I DID. only fits the prompt if you squint super hard but, regardless, please enjoy⌠on ao3 because why not
âSo, you feel ready to go back to work tomorrow?â
Francis removes his gaze with considerable effort from the perfect red orb that is the sun sinking steadily under the horizon line across the lake and shifts it reluctantly back to Tom, whoâs sitting back in his chair with his booted foot propped up on a milk crate that he got from God knows where. The sight of the boot that encases the lower half of his left leg does push a wave of guilty bile up the back of his throat but heâs already been told that if he apologizes for causing Tom to have need of it one more time, heâll be drowned in the aforementioned lake, so he resists. Tom knows Francis is sorry about what happened and heâs chosen to forgive him, even if Francis still thinks itâs a stupid choice, second only to him befriending Francis in the first place all those years ago. Francis doesnât know where he himself would have ended up if that hadnât happened, though, so it all comes out in the wash he supposes.
âAs ready as Iâll ever be,â Francis says, tracing a hairline fracture in his coffee mug with his thumbnail just for something to do. âIf I take any more time off, Iâll just never go back, so itâs now or never, really.â
âAttaboy,â Tom says before taking a long, thoughtful drink from his own mug. Out of solidarity, or maybe sensitivity, he hadnât had anything to drink tonight either, despite Francisâs assurances that it wouldnât bother him and might even be a good idea, just for him to get used to it. Itâs not like he could reasonably expect to go the rest of his life without ever seeing alcohol again. Heâd seen four different ads for light beer alone this afternoon while watching reruns of âBonesâ on the couch and imagining every possible way his first day back in the office after rehab could go wrong and that hadnât sent him into a tailspin, so heâd probably survive watching his best friend drink in his presence. Still, Tom had chosen to just drink decaf coffee with him after dinner like the ancient relics they are, because he is, without a doubt, the best person Francis has ever known. âYou talk to anybody about it? I mean, besides meâŚâ
âWhat, you mean like a therapist? Of course. Iâve got, what, six of them now, for Christâs sake!â
âNo, I mean, from the office. Have you talked to anyone about coming back?â
âWell, John, obviously.â
âI suppose youâd have to, yeah,â Tom says, running a ponderous hand over his chin. âAnything interesting from that quarter?â
âJust about what youâd expect,â Francis says, trying to be generous. John had been kind enough to let him keep his job, after all, despite how bad things got in the end, but Francisâs issues with the man remain, even with his newfound sobriety. Francis had sent him a long, downright obsequious email apologizing for the damage heâd done with his drunken theatrics both over the years and in the very recent past and explained in detail all the ways he was going to do better in the future, while expressing gratitude for the unprecedented amount of grace everyone, but particularly John, had shown him during this stressful time. It was, in no uncertain terms, the most embarrassing thing Francis has ever had to do, and he has, in his life, proposed to the same woman three separate times with absolutely no success, so itâs not like heâs lacking in options for that top spot.
John is, thankfully, the sort of man who likes to breeze past unpleasantness wherever he can and is also, more importantly, a deeply entrenched bureaucrat whoâd just as soon do no work as do even a little work and therefore could not be bothered to hire a replacement for Francis. In fact, if he had to guess, John was probably clever enough to frame it as some sort of protection against a discrimination lawsuit somewhere down the line, despite the fact that several things Francis did at the staff Christmas party right before hitting rock bottom were definitely fireable offenses. Johnâs unflappable dedication to the status quo has worked in Francisâs favor for once, and while he certainly doesnât deserve the break, heâs going to take it where he can get it on the off chance it never happens again.
âAnd the staff? Your team, I mean.â
âI got coffee with a few of them individually, just to clear the air and apologize, so that if anyone wanted to take a swing at me, they could do it outside of work,â Francis says, scuffing his shoe against the porch.
âWell, thatâs considerate of you. Any of them try it?â
âNo. The cowards,â Francis scoffs, which makes Tom laugh. âJopson and Edward both seemed like they might be sick at the prospect of anyone in charge actually deigning to apologize to them, which wasâŚhumbling, to say the least. Then I got an extremely nervous monologue from Harry about the history and relative efficacy of Alcoholics Anonymous, which I think was his way of saying weâre square. And Silna told me if I tried to meet up with her outside of work hours again, sheâd block my number and quit without notice, so...â
âSheâs got the right of it,â Tom says, with a crooked grin.
âYeah, that was my favorite of the lot,â Francis replies. âWeâll have a team meeting tomorrow and weâll get someone in from HR so everyone can talk about feelings, God help us, but I think it might be okay. Which I could not have predicted when all this started, but here we are.â
âI could have,â Tom says. âYouâve made plenty of mistakes, I grant you, but youâve also done right by these people in a lot of ways. Theyâre not going to forget that in a hurry. Theyâre a loyal bunch.â
Francis nods, looking out over the water again. The pinks and golds of the sunset a few moments ago have already faded into purples and blues as night creeps in. The nocturnal chorus of frogs croaking and insects trilling is rising in the nearby woods. Heâs already said his piece about how absurd it is that theyâre sitting comfortably outside on the porch after dinnerâwith jackets on and a fire going, sure, but stillâand itâs only the beginning of March. Tom doesnât need to hear any more ranting about global warming right now; itâs no fair repayment of his generosity. What Francis really should do is head for home soon and let his friend have some peace and quiet. He could use some of that himself, but he somehow doubts that heâll get much rest once heâs home for the evening. At least he can panic about tomorrow properly there, though, by himself.
âSpeaking of throwing punches,â Tom says, carefully, after theyâve been quiet a moment, âhave you spoken to James at all?â
Francis winces with what feels like his entire body. âI havenât had the chance,â he says, as lightly as he can manage.
It isnât precisely true. If he found the time to contact everyone else whoâd been affected by his spectacular fall from grace during his leave of absence, he could have found the time to reach out to James too, but he hadnât. The apology he owes James Fitzjames is too big for an email, which heâd, in a truly cowardly fashion, gotten away with for almost everyone else, and the presumption and humiliation of asking for any of his free time as heâd done with some of his subordinates was a bridge too far. Besides, if theyâd met up at a coffee shop to talk things out, Francis has no doubt James would have ordered his drink with oat milk or stevia instead of sugar or mentioned a cleanse he was on and Francis would have rolled his eyes and said something awful and then he probably would have had to go to rehab all over again, which would have defeated the point. Francis has been told by outside observersâprofessionals in the field, for what itâs worthâthat heâs making progress, but heâs even more sure that heâs still, at his core, a miserable old bastard. Heâs just less miserable than he was before, by a small margin. Unfortunately, heâs not any less old, though. In fact, heâs older, but thatâs beside the point.
âYouâll have to face him sooner or later,â Tom says, not quite gently but not as bullying as he could be either.
âI know,â Francis says, covering his face with his hands. âIâll do it tomorrow. I mean, if anyoneâs entitled to an in-person apology, itâs James, surely.â
âAfter you punched him in front of everyone at the Christmas party and verbally berated him? Yeah, I think something more than a text message might be in order.â
âYou accepted an apology text,â Francis says, scowling into his mug. âAnd I broke your leg. You needed surgery and everything. I donât even think I broke Jamesâs nose.â
âOnly because your aim sucks when youâre wasted,â Tom replies, unbothered. âGave him quite the shiner, though, if you want to compare wounds.â
Francis sighs. âI already said Iâd talk to him. You have my word.â
âWhat am I? Your bloody father?â
âNo, and I like you a great deal better for it.â
âGood, then what do I need your word for?â
âI was just trying to convey my sincerity.â
âI donât doubt your sincerity, Francis. Never have. Itâs everyone else you need to convince.â
âI donât know what to say to James,â Francis says, into his hands. âI mean, with you at least, weâve known each other for ages. We can bounce back from quite a lot, it turns out. James, heâsâIâve never known how to talk to him in the first place. Now Iâve got to do it sober? I donât know where to start.â
âHow about, âJames, Iâm sorry for trying to knock your lights out with an audience present while I was drunk off my ass on the company dimeâ to start?â
Francis closes his eyes and leans back in his chair, letting the shame wash over him like a wave and then, more importantly, letting it recede like waves do. He sighs loudly and shakes his head.
âYou know, Iâve always regretted I wasnât the sort of drunk who forgets what he does when heâs wasted. Feels like it might be easier, ultimately. Like, I could say, âoh, sorry for whatever I might have done to you, James. The trouble is I donât remember any of it, but Iâm sure itâs nothing I would have done sober, all the same.ââ
âFeigning amnesia?â Tom barks, laughing and looking at him sideways. âWhatâs that? The thirteenth step?â
âLeave me alone,â Francis replies, waving him off but laughing himself despite his best efforts. âIâve done a lot of owning up to things lately. Canât I keep one petty grievance for myself?â
âYou could probably get away with it, if youâd left it as a petty grievance rather than escalating to violence. And your resistance to dealing with James should tell you making amends there is your highest priority. Discomfort is a good thing here, a signal youâre heading in the right direction. If it were all easy, everyone would do it, you know.â
âThatâs lovely, Tom. Will you be cross-stitching any of these aphorisms onto pillows to remind me to stay the course, or shall I just memorize them for when times get tough?â
âFuck off, you dusty old prick,â Tom laughs. âHey, what about this? âJames, Iâm ever so sorry for getting plastered and calling you out in front of everyone and then attempting to rearrange your pretty face with my fist! I do think some of the blame lies in you being so pretty and in me having some unresolved issues around my masculinity and my self-esteem, all of which you can blame on my waste of a father figure growing up, but in this case, I suppose I have to shoulder some of the responsibility for my actions myself. Forgive me?ââ
âThereâs no one else on earth who could get away with saying even half those things to me, you know,â Francis says, even as his blood doesnât boil or even heat in the slightest hearing them. It rushes to his face instead, no doubt resulting in a fierce blush that the gathering darkness mercifully hides from view.
âI earned it the hard way, my friend,â Tom says, patting his boot.
âThat you did,â Francis says, and rises from his seat. âIâd better be going, then. Much to do, after all: apologies to draft, laundry to fold, worst case scenarios to spin out.â
Tom gets up with effort, clunky and inelegant in his boot, but not so proud as to decline Francisâs hand when itâs offered. âI wasnât trying to scare you off,â he says once heâs vertical.
âYou didnât. Itâs like I said, Iâve a lot to do before the big day.â
Tom nods and, after a moment of deliberation, puts a hand on Francisâs shoulder. âYouâre a good man, you know.â
âIâm not sure about that,â Francis replies, shifting away from the praise. âMore of a bad man trying to be better.â
Tom gives him a long look at that and then shakes his head, smiling. âAll that work on yourself and you still donât get it,â he says, not unkindly. âWhat else do you think a good man is?â
Francis doesnât know, but he spends the whole ride home and the rest of the night thinking about it all the same.
*
Francisâs plan of attack, such as it even exists, takes form more easily than he could have predicted. Once he starts thinking about how best to approach James at work and make amends on that front, he finds he knows a lot more about the man than he originally thought. A few years working together, however contentiously, has been enough to pick up on each otherâs habits and quirks well enough that Francis can reasonably predict when heâll be able to get a moment of Jamesâs time without anyone else around. The fact that he can do this and yet never thought to do it before under any other circumstances is the cause of another wave of shame that passes less quickly than Francis would like.
Francis arrives at the City Plannerâs office just before 8:30 in the morning with the certainty that he wonât run into Johnâthe man has many flaws but his dedication to never showing up to work any earlier than he absolutely needs to is not one of them, in Francisâs opinionâbut that he will, in all likelihood, find James already there and more than likely already working. He also arrives with the materials for a bribe, should that prove necessary.
Heâs so worked up, going through everything heâs planning to say one last time in his mind before he actually sees James, that he doesnât think to knock on the outer door, which is sitting half-open anyway, and just barges in instead. Itâs not a great start, he realizes a second after itâs too late to do anything else, and itâs made even worse by the fact that James is there, as expected, and heâs only partially in his shirt, which is not so expected. Francis stops and gapes for a moment with all the grace of someone whoâs been tased.
âGod, sorry,â he says, and tries to step back, only to collide with the door jamb. âI shouldâveââ
âFrancis, itâsâgood morning, Iâthis isnâtâIâm theâIâm sorry,â James says, managing to sound crisp and self-possessed even when heâs stammering his way through an apology. âI donât normallyâŚdo thisâŚin the office, I mean.â
âNo, of course not,â Francis says, behaving like a teenager in a romantic comedy for some reason and averting his eyes, even though thereâs nothing to see. James was in the process of buttoning his shirt when he came in, so itâs really the sight of his clavicle thatâs made Francis so uncomfortable. Was he always this much of a ninny? Is that why he started drinking, to cover it up? Itâs the only explanation that makes any sense now.
âI went for a run this morning and I neglected to pack a shirt with my work clothes, so I had to use the spare I keep in my desk for emergencies.â
The old Francis (of several weeks and easily a thousand group sessions ago) would have rolled his eyes at any number of things in that small explanation: running to work, keeping a spare shirt in oneâs desk, referring to anything related to fashion as an âemergencyâ and meaning it. Now, he nods thoughtfully and tries to think of it all as part and parcel of what he respects and admires about James: his dedication and planning, his ability to anticipate and address future challenges. The fact that he looks nice in blue. Whatever. It turns out itâs easier to do than he imagined it would be.
âI donât think you have a habit of undressing in the office for fun, James,â Francis says, instead of any of those nice things. âDonât worry.â
âRight,â James says, lightly, even as his shoulders remain tense. He does up the last few buttons and his clavicle disappears under the taut poplin fabric of his dress shirt. âWell, what can I do for you, Francis?â
Francis has heardâand, in turn, mockedâJames on any number of occasions start conversations with a smooth, âto what do I owe the pleasure of your company?â, which is not an expression Francis himself has been treated to in a long time and for good reason. He doesnât know why he thinks of it now, except that heâd take even a sarcastic reference to the pleasure of his company (of which there is none and never has been for James in particular, he thinks) over the idea that James should do anything for him, at this point.
âYouâre training, then?â Francis asks, skirting gracelessly around the question James actually posed. âFor another one of the what-do-ya-call-emâs? Not a marathon. The thing you did last yearâŚ?â
âThe Ironman,â James suggests, looking slightly pained. âItâs a triathlon.â
âYeah, that sounds right. Another one of those?â
âGod, no,â James replies, nose wrinkling slightly before he seems to catch himself doing it and intentionally blanks his expression. âIâm not likely to do another one of those. I already have my bragging rights, after all. Todayâs run was just for health.â
âOh, sure,â Francis says, tapping a fingertip nervously against the cardboard sleeve of his coffee cup. âIâm meant to be doing that now.â
âRunning?â James asks, betraying some surprise, which is fair enough.
âExercising. For my health. To keep meâŚâ
âFit?â
âWell, distracted,â Francis replies, with a shrug. âThere seems to be some thought of it helping to keep me away from drink, though Iâm not sure what the logic is there. But Iâm meant to be thinking of something Iâd enjoy, anyway.â
âNot running, then,â James says, brow crinkling like heâs giving the matter serious thought. James is a fixer by natureâand by profession, of course, being paid mostly to follow John around and make sure the grand promises that flow from his mouth actually happen somehow. He thrives with a problem to solve. If Francis were even marginally less stupid and less proud, he might have thought to come to James sooner. Heâs nothing if not several very large problems wrapped in a trench coat. Or a wind breaker, in actuality. The point is, Francis could use all the fixing he can get his hands on.
âNot likely. Never enjoyed it, really. Hard on the ankles, Iâve found.â
âYes, it can be quite stressful on the joints. Youâve got to take all sorts of precautions,â James says, in the tone he gets when heâs working his way up to a long treatise of some kind, but he stops abruptly and his face betrays that heâs seemingly caught himself. He clears his throat. âSo, itâs not for everyone. I understand.â
âYes, well, my sponsor was saying that I might try tennis or racquetball, but then Iâd have to find a regular partner or group, and Iâm not sure I have it in me.â
âThereâs a club nearby, actually, and they could help you arrangeââ James pauses and shakes his head, once again stopping himself from expounding on the different options available the way he normally would. Itâs an uncharacteristic amount of restraint coming from James, who loves recommending things to other people almost as much as he loves the sound of his own voice. Francis sees some of his own handiwork in this new display of shame and feels the need to make amends even more keenly than before because of it. âWell, you can Google it, I imagine, and it would be faster than listening to me. It is, uhâitâs in Eagleton, however, so I suppose that wonât do.â
âNo,â Francis replies, frowning. âThanks all the same, though. I imagine Iâll end up doing water aerobics with the rest of the senior citizens at the community center and call it a day.â
âYouâre not aâyouâre barely fifty, Francis!â
âIâm fifty-two, actually.â
âOh, well, in that case, I hope you have your affairs in order,â James gripes, as he messes with something entirely unnecessarily on his desk. Francis smiles at the strange comfort of annoying him, which should not be reassuring to him at all but heâs a messed up sort of fellow even on his best days. The smile grows when James clears his throat again and adds, like he canât quite stop himself, âSwimmingâs rather good for the joints, actually.â
âSwimming?â Francis asks.
âYes, swimming. As in, lapsâŚin a pool. Something else the community center offers, if you were interested. Itâs solitaryâmeditative, evenâand good exercise. Inâthat is, in case you were wondering.â
âIf this is you trying to talk me into a triathlon, Jamesââ
James sniffs, more performatively haughty than genuinely haughty, Francis suspects. âIâd never,â he says. âI was merely recommending an activity that you might enjoy more than water aerobics, and that might spare the elderly of our community from dealing your obvious personality disorder early in the morning, when those classes tend to be held.â
Francis, much to Jamesâs surprise from the look on his face, laughs at that. âIâll take that under advisement,â he says, while James continues to regard him like heâs wild animal exhibiting signs of rabies whoâs suddenly appeared in his path, which is maybe a common occurrence in town, depending on who you ask. âThank you.â
James nods, distracted. âSure.â
âWell, IâIâŚlisten, I didnât come here to talk about exercise regimes, which I figure you could have guessed,â Francis says, in a rush, because anything less than a headlong dive into the subject they need to discuss will hurt much worse than just getting it over with, he suspects. âAnd I donât want to presume anything about your life, but I also figure thereâs a non-zero chance that youâre already familiar with the famous 12 step program, maybe just through cultural osmosis, and I donât want to over explain any of it to you, but, well, thereâs a pretty important part about identifying people youâve wronged through your addiction and the resulting behavior and making direct amends to said try people andââ
âIâm familiar,â James interrupts, softly. âNot directly, of course, or, um, anything like thatâI donât want to detractâbutââ
Francis waves him off. âNo need to explain. I justâwell, obviously, that list of people, for me, had to include you, because of what transpired between us at the end of last year and how I behaved. The things I said to you, thenâhow Iâve always spoken to you, reallyâand of course, IâGod, Iâm so sorry. It feels absurd to say out loud but Iâm sorry for lashing out at you and hitting you, I should never haveââ
âItâs fine, Francis,â James says, starchily. Heâs got a nervous hand pressed to his ribcage, so intently that itâs almost shocking to look and see no actual knife sticking out from there, somehow. With that, itâs hard to believe the breeziness of his words. âReally, this isnât necessary.â
âAnd Iâm telling you it is,â Francis explains, as carefully as he can manage. âMaybe it isnât for you, I donât know, but itâs necessary for me. Do youâcan you understand that?â
âYes, Iâm sorry,â James says, after a deep breath. âOf course. Is thereâŚmore?â
âYou tell me. Is there any other ways my drinking harmed you that I havenât thought of?â
âNo, I wasnâtââ
Francis holds up a hand to stop him. âThat probably read as very sarcastic, given ourâŚhistory, letâs say, but it was a genuine question. I think Iâve raked myself over the coals for every possible slight I can imagine but if thereâs anything I did that I can address for you now, Iâd have you tell me.â
âNo, itâs fine, really,â James replies, shakily. âI only meant, I donât really know what goes into all this. Is amends just an apology or is there more to it? I donât need there to be, I was just curious. Thatâs all.â
âWell, youâre meant to endeavor to show youâve changed your ways, I suppose. To indicate that you wonât be perpetuating the same harm in the future. Which, in this case, is tough, becauseâŚwell, I mean, all I can give you is my word I wonât try to knock you out at work ever again.â
âOutside of work hours, howeverâŚâ James muses, with a small, mirthless smile.
Francis winces, but otherwise doesnât react. âIâll never behave that way towards you again. On my honor, for whatever thatâs worth.â
James folds his arms over his chest and looks down at the carpet, appearing like a sullen youth for a brief moment before he raises his gaze and becomes a grown man once more. Francis remembers when heâd shown up with John that first time, how heâd called James an infant to Tom when they finished their initial meeting with him about the townâs budget crisis all those years ago. Tom had laughed at him, wheezing âheâs a decade younger than us, if heâs anything, Francis. Heâs our bloody peer now, and if you donât see it, youâre cracked!â Francis thoughtâstill thinksâTom is the one whoâs cracked, in this case. James looked young, then; he looks young now, everywhere except the eyes, which contain a stormy seaâs worth of disappointment. Francis can be self-centered with the best of them but he knows heâs not the one who put that feeling there in the first place. Heâs not that important. For the first time, however, he feels protective of the man in front of him because of it and takes it as his very solemn duty to never be the cause of his disappointment again, so long as it can be helped. All that and itâs not even 9 in the morning yet.
âItâs worth plenty,â James says, eventually, clearly just as uncomfortable with this much emotion so early in the day as Francis is and eager to be done with it. âThank you, Francis.â
âYes, well, I wonât take up any more of your time, Iâve been nuisance enough for one morning, but if thereâs ever anything you want to discuss or clear up between us, my doorâs always open. To you, that is. Well, to anyone, but just in case your particular welcome was unclear, I mean, you shouldââ
James sweeps a hand out wide in a graceful gesture like heâs literally clearing the air. âUnderstood,â he says, sincerely, âand appreciated.â
âGreat,â Francis says, too cheerily and then winces again. âI mean, uhâright, Iâll just be going then.â
As he pivots back towards the door, the sloshing noise of the ice shifting in one of the cups heâd forgotten he was holding draws his attention. Christ, right. The whole point wasâFrancis really is starting to lose his mind. He contemplates just leaving anyway, like nothingâs amiss, but heâll have to explain the two drinks to his team, absolutely none of whom will buy that the iced chai is for him. Heâs gone on too many rants about how coffee shouldnât be iced and tea only on certain occasions. Heâs the type to drink hot, black coffee even on the most brutal summer days, though his sponsor did warn him that a lot of alcoholics do turn to sweets as a coping mechanism for replacing alcohol in their daily lives and not to be surprised if he found himself needing additional sweetener in his morning coffee as a result. Francis hadnât credited it at the time, but he had found himself momentarily tempted at the coffee shop this morning by a sign advertising something called a âdeath by chocolate latteâ as the daily special before heâd gotten a hold of himself, so maybe thereâs some truth to it. The point is, dragging this extra drink back to his office will be more humiliating than turning around and giving it to James like he originally planned, no matter how awkward it feels right now.
âOkay,â he says, turning back, âI promise this is the last thing and then I will let you get back to work. Thereâs, uhâitâs not a bribe, mind you, just an extension of the apology for what happened and for the fact that youâll have to continue working with me for the foreseeable future andâyou donât have to forgive me, you donât owe me that, I just thoughtââ
James looks at him, utterly perplexed, fingertips gently steepled on the top of the desk like heâd already been going back to whatever he was working on when Francis interrupted again. âWhat is it?â he asks, somehow still not betraying any annoyance at the interruption, hiding it well under an open tone of curiosity.
âTheâthis,â Francis finally spits out with considerable effort, holding the cup out towards James, rather than try to explain himself further. âItâs for you.â
âOh,â James replies, with an expression like Francis is trying to hand him a live gerbil and not an upsettingly overpriced beverage like the ones heâs seen James drink on dozens of occasions. âI, uhâthatâs really not necessary.â
âYou must take it, James. Please. I said youâre not obligated to forgive me, Iâm not trying to sway you, really. It just felt wrong to show up empty handed, after everything.â
âI understand, but, reallyââ
âYouâre not on another one of your cleanses, are you? Giving up sugar orâŚcalories before noon or something?â Francis ventures, imbuing his tone with more patience than he normally would, even though he still feels very little towards this thing in particular.
James is already so annoyingly healthy and brisk and handsome, it does take extraordinary amounts of patience to tolerate his talk of intermittent fasting and green juice with the goal of making himself even more annoyingly perfect. Surely, thereâs got to be a limit to that sort of thing, but Francis doesnât know; heâs on the opposite end of the spectrum it seems, having to re-learn the fundamentals of barely looking after himself in middle age without the aid of alcohol. Itâs pretty grim, if heâs being honest. It really is no wonder that James has been so consistently earning the gold medal spot in the competitive sport of getting on Francisâs nerves, with that in mind.
His intentional gentleness does seem to pay off in this case, though, since James smiles at him in only mild embarrassment. âUh, no, Iâm not. I justâyouâre not obliged toââ
âI know, butâlisten, James, I already committed my penance by having to say the phrase âdirty chaiâ with a straight face to a college student with a lip piercing at eight in the morning, okay? The damage is done. You might as well enjoy the spoils of my humiliation.â
Jamesâs smile widens at that, looking for all the world like he canât really stop himself. âDonât take this the wrong way, but that mental image might be worth more to me than the entirety of your apology.â
âNo offense taken,â Francis says, finally succeeding in handing off the cup, slick with condensation by now, into Jamesâs care. âI hope it will sustain you for a while yet.â
âOh, it shall,â James says, placing the cup gingerly onto his desk.
âRight, well,â Francis replies, âthatâs all, then. Iâll see youâŚlater, I suppose.â
James nods. âWe have a meeting set for Tuesdayâtomorrow. It should be on your calendar. Thomas said heââ
âIf Jopson says itâs there, itâs there.â
âGreat,â James says, easily. âUntil then.â
âYes. âTil tomorrow.â
Mission completed, Francis turns once more towards the door and is only interrupted in leaving by the sound of James clearing his throat behind him. He pauses, and looks over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows in question when he meets Jamesâs eye.
âItâs onlyâforgive me if this is the wrong thing to say, under the circumstances,â James offers, fidgeting with the edge of the notepad lying open on his desk, âbut you doâthat is, you look well, Francis.â
Francis doesnât allow himself the liberty of moving even an inch, not to fiddle with his collar or brush back his hair or otherwise indicate he gives so much as one singular damn about his appearance. âDo I?â he asks, tone purposely vague, like James has just told him the weather forecast and itâs only interesting to him in theory, really.
âYes, very well,â James says, putting his hand flat on the desk very deliberately, like it was giving him away before. At what, who knows, but heâs got it under control now. âThis change, it suits you.â
âWell, thank you, I guess.â
James now looks at his computer screen, absently. The next words he says might be something he was reading off of there, if they were anything else. âYou look good, is what I meant.â
âHowâ?â Francis pauses, feeling immense pressure to say this right, somehow. âSorry, but how would that be the wrong thing to say?â
âI wouldnât want you to think, wellââ James interrupts himself by laughing, just a little and rather joylessly. âItâs not that you didnât look good before.â
âOh, right,â Francis says, even as those words continue to make no sense to him in that particular order coming from this particular person. âWait, youâre sayingâI did?â
James meets his eye again, finally, but only to give him the most impatient, long-suffering look in human history. âIs it too much to hope that one of the twelve steps involves learning to take a compliment?â he asks, sounding depleted by the effort. âBecause it is one of your most exhausting qualities that you canât do so without endless interrogation first.â
âAnd itâs got a lot of competition,â Francis replies, feeling himself smile and choosing to do nothing to stop it, âwhat with all my other exhausting qualities.â
âYouâre really only proving my point here, you know.â
âThank you, James,â Francis says, dutifully. âItâs very kind of you to say. Better?â
âMuch,â James sighs. âYouâre showing remarkable improvement already.â
Francis leaves him, then, because to stay any longer would just be exposing himself to further ridicule and heâd absolutely deserve it, what with the stupid smile he now canât seem to get rid of.
#lmao zainab's exact words when we talked about this prompt were 'i'm in my slightly confused but supportive parental energy era'#my madness is being indulged so patiently#anyway this has been stressing me out for a month now just take it away from me!!!#the terror#the terror amc#fitzier#francis crozier#james fitzjames#thomas blanky#writing prompt#reverse fanfic tropes prompts#god i've forgotten how to even tag writing anymore...#firstelevens#homelywenchsociety#that's my writing tag! don't worry about it!#prompt fill#as always when i come up with a silly au for something i'm like 'i don't know how everyone fits in i haven't thought about it at all'#except i am always lying because i always know#most important part of this AU is that tunbaaq is The Pit#and ross is mark brendana-quits#and that's most of what you need to know#please join me in imagining all of the truly absurd parks plotlines i can shove these idiots into#my favorite that i've thought of so far is forcing james and silna into ben and april's plotline of getting stuck in a parking garage#traffic jam together for hours#i just think it would break them you know?? and that's fun#anyway....
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