"Early Morning"
Sep. 30th, 2011 01:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amine_eyesTitle: "Early Morning"
Fandom: Horrible Histories
Pairing: Blenkinsop/Maltravers
Genre: Fluff
Rating: G
Beta: None
Summary: a brief peek at their life post-war
A/N: This was written for a prompt on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hhanon, asking for Blenkinsop and Maltravers, Post-War domesticity. this is now part of a ridiculous amount of head-canon about those two, who insist on being ridiculously adorable even though we only see two minutes of them on screen :D
Disclaimer: Don't own, never will own :)
The shell fire was getting louder, getting closer. Screams were filling the air, and he looked behind to try and find Maltravers but he wasn't there and he panicked, running back, dodging rifle-fire and Germans and oh GOD Maltravers was in a hand-to-hand-fight with the enemy, and he tried to run, to get there, but the mud gripped his legs, he fell, he couldn't go and Maltravers was falling, falling, falling -
Blenkinsop jerked awake, his breathing panicked.
He felt the softness of the mattress, the tangle of blankets round his legs, and as his breathing calmed, he could hear the birds start their dawn chorus.
The dawn light lit everything in a soft golden glow, and he rolled over, looking at Maltravers – snoring slightly as he slept, blankets hauled up so that only his face was showing.
Just a dream he thought, sighing with relief as he continued to watch Maltravers sleep, just a dream.
He reached out a hand, closed the gap between them with a soft stroke through Maltravers’ hair, and Maltravers made a contented noise as he snuggled into the touch, his eyes blinking open.
“Mmmmm … morning,” he mumbled, and Blenkinsop smiled, still carding a hand through his hair.
“Morning yourself,” he answered, and Maltravers yawned in response, pushing himself up on one elbow to look at the clock on the wall. He flopped back down with a groan.
“It’s half-past five old chap.”
Blenkinsop looked, and swore, pulling away as he did so.
“Sorry, I thought it was later –“
Maltravers grabbed his hand, tangling their fingers, raising an eyebrow as he did so.
“No need to be sorry, just pointing it out,” he said, yawning mid-sentence, “besides, Rover will probably be awake by now.”
“Probably,” Blenkinsop said with a laugh, relaxing into the pillows, “any minute now he’ll be scratching at the door, demanding to be walked.”
Maltravers groaned again, moving closer, trapping their hands between them.
“I swear that dog doesn’t actually sleep, he just runs round in circles till he can demand our attention again.”
Blenkinsop grinned, pressing a kiss to Maltravers’ forehead.
“He was your idea.”
“Because you were stuck in the house all day,” Maltravers retorted – a smile on his face as he did so.
Blenkinsop paused, mind drifting back to the long weeks spent cooped up inside, unable to move without someone’s help, unable to do anything by himself. The feeling of pain and desperation started to seep through his body –
Maltravers kissed him on the lips, breaking his chain of thought. He looked at Blenkinsop, a slight frown on his face.
“None of that now,” and Blenkinsop rolled his eyes fondly, leaning forward slightly and kissing Maltravers back – soft, gentle, lingering.
As they parted, the frown on Maltravers’ face was replaced by a fond smile.
“So why are we awake at five thirty on a Saturday morning old bean?”
Blenkinsop shrugged and kissed Maltravers again. He didn’t need to know about the nightmare, it would only cause his ones to come back and restart the vicious cycle of Maltravers staying awake for days, afraid to close his eyes.
Luckily, Maltravers failed to pursue the question, simply kissing him again, the kisses long and sweet, a thigh nudging between Blenkinsop’s legs, causing a soft sigh to leave Blenkinsop’s lips. He pushed forward slightly, bringing his other arm up to cradle Maltravers’ head as they continued to kiss.
A scratch at the door caused Maltravers to pull away.
Blenkinsop made a sound of protest, chasing him, catching his lips again in a kiss that left his senses reeling. Maltravers moaned into his mouth, pushing forward as he did so.
Another scratch at the door was accompanied by a bark.
When Maltravers pulled away again, Blenkinsop groaned.
“List of jobs for this weekend – putting a lock on the kitchen door.”
Maltravers laughed at that, and Blenkinsop couldn’t help himself, he grinned back at the sheer joy on Maltravers’ face.
“But then how would you get up in the morning?”
Blenkinsop pulled Maltravers close, pressing a kiss to his neck.
“I’m sure I could think of a way …”
Maltravers sighed with pleasure, and Blenkinsop inwardly cheered.
Rover barked again – more insistent than before.
Maltravers muttered as he got of bed and pulled on a shirt and trousers.
“Shall I make some tea?” asked Blenkinsop, sitting up and moving to the edge of the bed, carefully swinging his legs out and onto the floor.
Maltravers beamed at that.
“That would be wonderful old bean.”
Blenkinsop smiled back, standing up and walking over, pressing a kiss to Maltravers’ cheek.
“Go on, it’ll be ready when you get back.”
Maltravers turned his head, and they shared a lingering kiss, grinning as they parted. Maltravers opened the door and quickly stepped through it, Rover barking excitedly as he did so.
“Yes Rover, we’re awake. Come on, downstairs with you.”
The sound of Rover thumping down the stairs was followed by Maltravers’ more measured paces, and Blenkinsop smiled, hearing the front door open and shut, the excited bark of Rover drifting in through the bedroom window along with the sound of birds singing and the crunch of Maltravers’ feet on the gravel.
He walked slowly down the stairs, heading into the kitchen and filling the kettle. He paused, looked round the small room, the dishes still on the draining board, the opened curtains by the window that looked out on the garden and apple tree in full blossom, and smiled.
“We really did make it,” he said softly, leaning against the sideboard – kettle still in his hands.
“We really did make it …”
Fandom: Horrible Histories
Pairing: Blenkinsop/Maltravers
Genre: Fluff
Rating: G
Beta: None
Summary: a brief peek at their life post-war
A/N: This was written for a prompt on
hhanon, asking for Blenkinsop and Maltravers, Post-War domesticity. this is now part of a ridiculous amount of head-canon about those two, who insist on being ridiculously adorable even though we only see two minutes of them on screen :DDisclaimer: Don't own, never will own :)
The shell fire was getting louder, getting closer. Screams were filling the air, and he looked behind to try and find Maltravers but he wasn't there and he panicked, running back, dodging rifle-fire and Germans and oh GOD Maltravers was in a hand-to-hand-fight with the enemy, and he tried to run, to get there, but the mud gripped his legs, he fell, he couldn't go and Maltravers was falling, falling, falling -
Blenkinsop jerked awake, his breathing panicked.
He felt the softness of the mattress, the tangle of blankets round his legs, and as his breathing calmed, he could hear the birds start their dawn chorus.
The dawn light lit everything in a soft golden glow, and he rolled over, looking at Maltravers – snoring slightly as he slept, blankets hauled up so that only his face was showing.
Just a dream he thought, sighing with relief as he continued to watch Maltravers sleep, just a dream.
He reached out a hand, closed the gap between them with a soft stroke through Maltravers’ hair, and Maltravers made a contented noise as he snuggled into the touch, his eyes blinking open.
“Mmmmm … morning,” he mumbled, and Blenkinsop smiled, still carding a hand through his hair.
“Morning yourself,” he answered, and Maltravers yawned in response, pushing himself up on one elbow to look at the clock on the wall. He flopped back down with a groan.
“It’s half-past five old chap.”
Blenkinsop looked, and swore, pulling away as he did so.
“Sorry, I thought it was later –“
Maltravers grabbed his hand, tangling their fingers, raising an eyebrow as he did so.
“No need to be sorry, just pointing it out,” he said, yawning mid-sentence, “besides, Rover will probably be awake by now.”
“Probably,” Blenkinsop said with a laugh, relaxing into the pillows, “any minute now he’ll be scratching at the door, demanding to be walked.”
Maltravers groaned again, moving closer, trapping their hands between them.
“I swear that dog doesn’t actually sleep, he just runs round in circles till he can demand our attention again.”
Blenkinsop grinned, pressing a kiss to Maltravers’ forehead.
“He was your idea.”
“Because you were stuck in the house all day,” Maltravers retorted – a smile on his face as he did so.
Blenkinsop paused, mind drifting back to the long weeks spent cooped up inside, unable to move without someone’s help, unable to do anything by himself. The feeling of pain and desperation started to seep through his body –
Maltravers kissed him on the lips, breaking his chain of thought. He looked at Blenkinsop, a slight frown on his face.
“None of that now,” and Blenkinsop rolled his eyes fondly, leaning forward slightly and kissing Maltravers back – soft, gentle, lingering.
As they parted, the frown on Maltravers’ face was replaced by a fond smile.
“So why are we awake at five thirty on a Saturday morning old bean?”
Blenkinsop shrugged and kissed Maltravers again. He didn’t need to know about the nightmare, it would only cause his ones to come back and restart the vicious cycle of Maltravers staying awake for days, afraid to close his eyes.
Luckily, Maltravers failed to pursue the question, simply kissing him again, the kisses long and sweet, a thigh nudging between Blenkinsop’s legs, causing a soft sigh to leave Blenkinsop’s lips. He pushed forward slightly, bringing his other arm up to cradle Maltravers’ head as they continued to kiss.
A scratch at the door caused Maltravers to pull away.
Blenkinsop made a sound of protest, chasing him, catching his lips again in a kiss that left his senses reeling. Maltravers moaned into his mouth, pushing forward as he did so.
Another scratch at the door was accompanied by a bark.
When Maltravers pulled away again, Blenkinsop groaned.
“List of jobs for this weekend – putting a lock on the kitchen door.”
Maltravers laughed at that, and Blenkinsop couldn’t help himself, he grinned back at the sheer joy on Maltravers’ face.
“But then how would you get up in the morning?”
Blenkinsop pulled Maltravers close, pressing a kiss to his neck.
“I’m sure I could think of a way …”
Maltravers sighed with pleasure, and Blenkinsop inwardly cheered.
Rover barked again – more insistent than before.
Maltravers muttered as he got of bed and pulled on a shirt and trousers.
“Shall I make some tea?” asked Blenkinsop, sitting up and moving to the edge of the bed, carefully swinging his legs out and onto the floor.
Maltravers beamed at that.
“That would be wonderful old bean.”
Blenkinsop smiled back, standing up and walking over, pressing a kiss to Maltravers’ cheek.
“Go on, it’ll be ready when you get back.”
Maltravers turned his head, and they shared a lingering kiss, grinning as they parted. Maltravers opened the door and quickly stepped through it, Rover barking excitedly as he did so.
“Yes Rover, we’re awake. Come on, downstairs with you.”
The sound of Rover thumping down the stairs was followed by Maltravers’ more measured paces, and Blenkinsop smiled, hearing the front door open and shut, the excited bark of Rover drifting in through the bedroom window along with the sound of birds singing and the crunch of Maltravers’ feet on the gravel.
He walked slowly down the stairs, heading into the kitchen and filling the kettle. He paused, looked round the small room, the dishes still on the draining board, the opened curtains by the window that looked out on the garden and apple tree in full blossom, and smiled.
“We really did make it,” he said softly, leaning against the sideboard – kettle still in his hands.
“We really did make it …”
