For the list of prompts - Fitzier and Aid from unexpected quarters ??
Unexpected indeed!
Spectacular, spectacular
Pairing: Crozier/FitzjamesRating: M
Wherein everyone is fine and they are heading home on Terror and Sir John’s credulous simplicity is practiced upon.
It was no easy thing to obtain commerce in such a crowded ship as Terror was now, steaming home with two crews packed in tightly. But Crozier was already sharing his quarters with Fitzjames, which eliminated a number of the traditional logistical problems. As long as they kept quiet and kept track of their limbs, they did well enough indeed.
On one such occasion they were down to their shirts, Fitzjames occupying most of the bed and reaching invitingly toward Crozier, when they heard an unmistakable bluff voice call out just beyond the door:
“Francis? James? I need you.”
They both froze. Fitzjames whispered a horrible oath very quietly. Francis felt the stiffness go out of his cock so thoroughly that he wondered if it would be limp for the rest of his life.
He stared at Fitzjames in horror.
Fitzjames stared back, his eyes wide and wild.
There was a knock, then the voice again: “Francis? Are you decent? And where is James?”
“Say something,” Fitzjames hissed urgently.
“Like what?” Crozier whispered back, throwing his entire face and body into pantomiming the hysteria he felt.
“Anything!” Fitzjames replied, and when Crozier was still silent he threw a hand over his eyes and started swearing again at a whisper.
Crozier finally got up his courage and replied in a strangled whisper: “One moment, Sir John.”
“Very well,” Sir John replied.
Crozier struggled into his trousers, only to make the unhappy discovery that they were not his. He persisted, got into his boots, and made to open the door when he heard approaching footsteps and a far more welcome voice:
“Good evening, sir,” said Blanky. Crozier froze. Fitzjames lifted his hand off his eyes and looked hopefully at the door.
“Mr. Blanky,” said Sir John benignly.
“Are you looking for Captain Crozier? I’m afraid you might have caught him at a bad moment. You see, he might not like to tell you, sir, but he’s right in the middle of an awful—” Blanky paused. He had never been a terribly creative liar when he was put on the spot.
Crozier saw the hope go out of Fitzjames’s face. But then they heard another, lighter step come up at a run, and Jopson’s breathless voice cried out: “Laundry incident!”
“Laundry incident,” Blanky agreed. “An awful laundry incident, it upsets me to say.”
“A laundry incident?” said Sir John.
“Begging your pardon, sirs, it is all my fault,” Jopson went on. “Oh, it is as awful a laundry incident as even I have seen. Why sir, I like not to allude to the captain’s trousers—”
Here Crozier heard Blanky laugh and turn it badly into a cough. On the bed, Fitzjames put his hand over his mouth and started shaking.
“Are you well, Mr. Blanky?” asked Sir John.
“I am quite well,” Blanky replied. “You are kind to ask, sir. It’s only that I don’t like hearing the captain’s trousers alluded to. It offends my understanding of propriety, so it does.”
“Very well,” said Sir John with approval. “I understand that the situation bears on his trousers and shall say no more. But gentlemen, what is the matter? Surely it is within my power to help in what way I can. Perhaps I could lend him a pair of my own trousers, for the time being.”
“Sir!” said Jopson. There were more footsteps approaching as he spoke: “You are the soul of kindness, sir. Why I did not—good evening, Lieutenant Little.”
“I got here directly,” said Little. He was breathing hard. “I was told to tell Sir John that—”
“—Pray do not trouble yourself about it,” said Jopson smoothly. “I have just told Sir John, though I don’t like to, about Captain Crozier’s awful laundry incident and particularly the involvement of his trousers, which I am sure prevents him from making a more civil reception for Sir John.”
“Oh yes,” said Little. “Well. That’s all I wanted to say, the things about the—what you said, and trousers.”
Blanky coughed again. Fitzjames was shaking with laughter enough that his elbow hit the frame of the bed. Crozier made a frantic silencing gesture at him.
“You are very proper, Mr. Blanky, it gladdens my heart to see it,” said Sir John. He then raised his voice to carry through the door: “Be easy, Francis, I have been informed about your trousers. I will have a pair of mine sent to you directly. But tell me, where is James?”
Fitzjames himself stopped laughing.
Crozier could almost picture Jopson, Little, and Blanky sharing a panicked glance.
“Well,” said Blanky. “He’s…” he trailed off.
“Yes of course,” said Jopson.
Little tried third: “He’s—”
“Awfully sorry!” came the voice of Lieutenant Le Vesconte. “Hello there, Sir John. Gentlemen.”
“James is awfully sorry?” said Sir John. “About what, I pray?”
“Unfortunately, he’s an idiot,” Fitzjames whispered to Crozier.
“What?” said Le Vesconte. “I beg your pardon, Sir John, I haven’t the foggiest what’s going on. I meant to say I am terribly sorry, but I am here to inform Sir John that his monkey’s got loose and I am come to believe sir, that she will heed your voice alone. Dr. Goodsir and a couple of the stewards are chasing her around but she won’t listen to them. She bit poor Mr. Bridgens on the finger, sir.”
“Jacko!” said Sir John. “Mr. Jopson, please see to it that the trousers are arranged. I must fly—oh, Jacko! I pray she has not got into the brandy again.”
Sir John thundered off, and when his footsteps had faded, Le Vesconte said very smugly: “Gentlemen, it is a frail distraction to make up stories about laundry when there is a monkey that may be let loose. May this incident be instructional to you.”
Fearing how such a precedent could escalate, and in consideration of the monkey’s health, Crozier and Fitzjames agreed that they would not sleep the same watch again aboard Terror.
