the Dalaverse

Stat was cancelled because of the SNOW, and the SNOW also led me to write this for drbillbongo's naval OT3 request (sorry I couldn't manage the kinky, but...snow). This is a random interlude from the Brothers in Arms universe, somewhere between "Stories for Boys" and "A Second to Say Goodbye." I suggest reading it with a hot drink and somebody snuggly, and/or a cat.

::wiggles fingers:: Cancel classes tomorrow...cancel classes tomorrow...cancel classes tomorrow...



Here We Come A-Wandering


She watched the boy in the corner fidget for two hours, now and then stopping by to see if he wanted anything else. Though he looked half-starved, he took only a glass of cheap beer and ordered no food. His left foot tapped an erratic rhythm beneath the table, and he never ceased looking at the door. The inn was busy after the holiday, its taproom packed full, but Mr. Seaver told her to leave the boy alone, since he’d already paid for his room.

He was handsome enough, if a bit young to her eyes, and she amused herself with thoughts of the girl he must be waiting for. Due to his clothing and something in his clear gray eyes, she guessed he was a sailor. They got a roving look to them even so young, and were always easy to spot. Doubtless he’d been at sea for months with only his shipmates for company. She hoped his sweetheart was pretty.

Around dusk another young man came through the door, head tucked down under the wind. He was dark like the first and he had the same sea breeze about him, though he was taller and looked to be a bit older. She took a step in his direction, meaning to steer him to a tiny open spot near the kitchens, but to her surprise he looked over the patrons until he caught sight of her sailor in the back corner – unsurprisingly, for the boy was waving his arm with such vigor it was in danger of flying off, grinning ear to ear.

The newcomer’s face, winter-pale but for the spots of color upon his cheeks and the tip of his nose, shaped itself into one of the sweetest smiles she’d ever seen, his green eyes lighting up enough to keep a lass warm at night...or a lad, as the case in fact appeared to be.

Past the glasses and dishes on her tray, she watched as they embraced, holding on just a bit too tight and a bit too long, though no one else took note. The taller one pulled away first, sinking into a chair with a grateful sigh and peeling off a green-and-blue plaid scarf that suited his pretty eyes. The other chattered to him at length, face bright and animated. In a few minutes he raised his hand as she passed by, and she took an order for a full bottle of rum. Though they brokered a pause in their conversation about homes and Christmases, they didn't hardly take their eyes from one another. She hid a grin as she left for their drink. A bit of lubrication and they’d no doubt set off for that rented room.

But they didn’t. As the first had waited, so now did they both wait, glancing anxiously at the door even as they talked and laughed and sneaked clandestine touches whenever they thought no one was looking. At last, some time after full dark, both heads turned to see another young man duck inside. This one had eyes as blue and hair as red as her own, though his face was sourer than the other two, at least until he saw them beckoning -- then he became quite charming to look upon.

“I hate the cold!” he exclaimed as he shouldered his way over to the corner, just loud enough for her to make out. The other boys chuckled and threw their arms around him.

For a moment she wondered if there might be a fourth – one for each cardinal direction, perhaps, or for each season. After the enthusiastic greetings, however, they all three of them trooped up the stairs with the bottle in tow.

In the morning when she came in to change the linens, she was somewhat saddened to find their room already empty and cleaned. Taking a moment at the window, she thought how much prettier the snow was when she needn’t be tromping through it in her worn boots, and thus did she see three figures in the alley below, blots against the glittering white ground. From this distance and from the way they were bundled up she could scarcely have told them from her aunt Fanny, but she knew they were her three sailors from how they shoved each other into snowbanks, and how they laughed, and how they lay quiet after they tumbled to the ground – hats flung off, breathless, a dark head on either side of red.