#warlenys

  WARLENYS AU

Oh my goodness, thank you so much for waiting. It has been wayyy too long since you sent this in, but I am finally (nearly) done with school, so I have time to actually catch up on fic prompts now. I ended up going to the Warlenys prompt, but I definitely want to write that Georgibeth prompt eventually. I hope you enjoy! Tagging my Warleggan family: @ticketybooser and @forcebros - love you guys <3 

The scene which Dwight found as he entered Trenwith was a troubling one, though not for the typical reasons that he had come to expect upon his many visits with George over the past few months. Dwight had just entered the house, but George looked ready to leave it. 

“Sir George,” Dwight stuttered as he spoke, still surprised at George’s well-fashioned appearance. “I was not expecting you to be…” 

“What?” George spoke with his old terseness, straightening his cravat in the mirror. “Can a man not go on an outing with his family?” 

Before Dwight managed to respond, Cary entered the room, appearing as though he were just finished with one errand before moving onto the next. The good doctor felt somewhat saved by Cary’s appearance. It was he after all who had called Dwight. 

“Ah, doctor,” Cary began, sounding cordial for George before pulling Dwight aside and speaking in a lower tone, “I do not trust my nephew to go out like this. He seems unusually out of temper this morning. I thought it would be best to um…” 

Dwight nodded, understanding his meaning. George did look nearly like his old self, as if none of the previous damage had even occurred, but there was the odd angle in the mirror that revealed dark circles under his eyes and the way his fingers trembled as he adjusted his clothes. By now, George was in good enough sense to understand the conversations his uncle had with Ralph Hanson through the door, but not enough to throw himself back into the endless workload he was wont to put on himself. He was impatient, itching to have his say in his own family business. It was only natural, after all. 

“I will have a word with him,” Dwight said to Cary, who nodded in understanding, his shoulders relaxing somewhat upon hearing that he had made the right decision to call a doctor. Cary decided to take a step back to allow the doctor to do his work, but stayed in the room in case George tried to do anything rash. It wouldn’t have been the first time that such a thing happened. 

“George,” Dwight began gently. “I am encouraged to see you motivated to make an outing. It is a great improvement from where we started, no doubt,” 

“And?” George did not turn away from the mirror, but instead stared Dwight’s reflection down with those piercing eyes of his. 

“Well,” the doctor began, not sure how to phrase his concern. “I believe this improvement is so great that it has caused your uncle a bit of concern. An outing to the church or perhaps even to Sawle village may be one matter, but anywhere else may be too much. You are still in recovery from considerable trauma, and as your doctor, I share your uncle’s concern,” 

“Damn it, man!” George stamped his foot and swiftly turned on his heel. “I am treated like a child in my own house and now I must suffer the same fate outside of it. I can hardly hold a butter knife without unusual vigilance on my every move. Will I never be trusted again? Or must I be kept in the house… like a… spinster! Or a madman…” 

It discouraged Dwight considerably to have George call himself a madman, and it was probably rather constricting to have Cary keep a hawk’s eye on him ever since he nearly fell off of the Nampara cliffs. He sighed. 

“I understand your frustration, but you are not a madman. The mind may betray us in mysterious ways and your uncle only wants to keep you safe. I have no opposition to a small outing, but I should ask that I come with you,” Dwight said calmly. 

George looked very nearly about to cry. 

“Do you have any idea what this is like?” He asked, nearly losing his voice by the end of his question, pointing to his own head upon the word ‘this’. “I hardly feel like myself anymore and you’re not helping,” 

“How might I be of help?” Dwight asked. He had expected some frustration from George given the nature of his illness, but by now even Dwight had to admit that he might have been a little frustrated too if in George’s position. He thought of Caroline in that moment, though wished he hadn’t. 

“I need you to trust me,” George said. “I think I have enough sense now to tell when I am feeling alright and when I am not. I am feeling fine and would like to take a walk with my family. Is that too much to ask?” 

“No, it is not,” Dwight said cautiously. “But I also need you to trust me. I have treated many such cases like yours and can tell you with confidence that it is unwise to go as far as you wish to go given the nature of your illness. So we shall make a compromise. I propose that we take a walk to Sawle village. Bring Valentine and Ursula along if you like,” 

George relaxed a little. So did Cary, who had been watching this entire time. 

“But, George,” the doctor reminded himself. “Now that you are on the mend, and I do truly believe you are on the mend, I must tell you that this will continue to be a battle you face for the rest of your life, and you must know when to take breaks. You cannot continue to push yourself to the brink of exhaustion. I understand your impatience to return to the world, but you must give yourself more time,” 

His patient nodded. He knew it all too well. Some days he felt just as he had before, but in seconds it could all come back to him and he would fall into a frantic state for days on end. He still had a hard time controlling it, which is why he had Dwight to help him. Perhaps it would always be like that. It frustrated him, but for the moment, he let it go. 

“Well,” Dwight said. “Shall we go? We’re fast losing light. I believe we shall be caught in the rain all the way out there,” 

Hi, thanks for the ask! I’m not entirely sure about the quality of this one since I’ve never written these two as a couple before, so anyway, I hope you enjoy it (all very much not three sentences of it ha)! :D

MODERN AU

Dwight was surprised, one winter’s evening, when he returned home from a long day at the GP surgery to find that all the lights were turned off despite the deep darkness that had already fallen outside. Adjusting his grip on the bag of fish and chips he had bought on the way out of Truro so that he could flick on the light-switch to the living room, he was even more surprised as he headed over to the sofa only to see that it was already occupied. George was dressed as neatly as ever, surrounded by the tools of his work - the blank screen of his laptop, open, staring up at him from the coffee table, files of papers and forms and all sorts of things that Dwight did not entirely know the use of to its right, and a half-drunk, long-cold mug of tea to its left - but he himself was deeply and peacefully asleep.

Dwight smiled. George was often inclined to work himself far too hard - it was about time he caught up on some rest. He was curled up, head resting against the sofa’s arm, and so it was not difficult to squeeze comfortably in beside him. His hair had been put out of place, Dwight noticed, so that it was falling into his eyes, and he reached out to brush it gently away from his face. George stirred under his touch with a soft murmur.

“George,” he called, gently. “George, I’ve brought dinner.”

“Hmm?,” George stirred again with a frown, his voice hoarse as he covered a huge yawn behind his hand. “I - Oh, hello. What time is it?”

Dwight glanced at his watch.

“Half-seven.”

“Half-seven?!,” George cried, shooting up abruptly, only to wince in pain at the action, a hand pressed to the back of his neck. “But it was - I was meant to be - ”

Dwight pushed him gently back down onto the sofa with a soft noise of reassurance.

“You need rest,” he said. “I don’t want you burning out again from overwork.”

“But - ”

“Trust me, George, it’s not the end of the world,” Dwight interrupted him soothingly. “Besides, if you spring into action now, the chips’ll go cold and you won’t be able to have any.”

The lure of chips, if nothing else, seemed to quiet George’s protests. He tried to sit up again, slower this time, but he still couldn’t quite fight back another wince.

“Well, the rest might have done my brain a favour, but I’m not sure what it’s done for my neck muscles,” he groused. “If only I’d had the sense to fall asleep in a more comfortable place.”

He looked so put out that Dwight couldn’t help but chuckle, though the soft kiss he pressed to the wispy curls at his temple managed to stave off the glare that had been in the midst of being directed his way.

“Well, in that case,” he said, as he pulled back with a grin, “it is a good thing there’s a doctor in the house who knows exactly how to deal with that.”