An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
HERE IT IS, HERE’S MY YULETIDE. i have already had some lovely, lovely feedback on it; reminded me just how fab the nice guys fandom is. what a good bunch of people.
“Jesus Christ,” March says, taking a shallow puff and stamping out his match pointedly on the mossy ground. “You’re the real deal, you know that?”
“The whole package,” March murmurs, suddenly much less blithe than he’d intended. It’s true, though. Healy's—a stand-up guy. Reliable, dependable, moral – some of the time. The perfect straight man to March’s barely proficient fool.
March takes a stuttering drag on his cigarette. “What are you—” He falters, speaks lower, aware that Holly’s not far. “What are you getting outta all this, Jack?”
March wishes he could light another cigarette. Something to occupy his hands. His trousers are too damn tight to shove his palms in his pockets. “I mean—all of this. Slogging out into the middle of nowhere with us. This isn’t part of the job, you didn’t sign up for this shit. So why do it?”
Healy looks at March like March might somehow be clever enough to try and test him. “I’ve been on my own for years, Holland,” he mutters angrily. “You think I don’t want this?”
It’s brutally honest and awfully cryptic all at once. Emma used to say men only spoke in circles, but she’d been talking about March’s shallow seduction of her, so that—that didn’t mean anything here, right?
turnnoffyourmind
dailybridgerton
gummygunk
romaincrisis
