He sighs. “I want to say, don’t come back.” He says, with a grimace. “Go so, so far away that I can never see you again. That none of us can ever see you or get to your future children, if you have any with B. I heard I and J were too afraid to have kids.” He pauses. “Don’t think that menace called Beatrice Baudelaire is ever afraid of anything though ”.
“Ernest…………”
“Don’t. Come. Back. If you’re going to cut loose from vfd, if you’re going to betray and leave me, I want it to be for a good purpose, okay? One hard line that you don’t sacrifice. Keep the child - children - safe. Give them a life we never knew - I never knew. Outside of vfd. Then that would be worth something. Worth breaking up with me and leaving me behind still trapped here because of my role, because I have to be here for F and Dewey. But don’t fucking come back, Bertrand,” Ernest’s voice chokes. “Or what would it have all been? Or would your resolution have meant nothing after all? Or you love vfd too much, after all? The vfd who did so much nonsense to me? To us?”
“E………” Bertrand’s voice breaks.
“That’s what I wanted to say,” Ernest says now, gloomily. “But what I actually decided to say is this. Do visit regularly, or as best as you could manage without arousing suspicious from all sides. Dewey’s going to miss you. And I can’t forgive myself nor you if he starts getting sad about that ……… so come see him.”
“And you?” Bertrand asks, quietly.
“I don’t know,” Ernest says. “I really don’t. I guess I might show myself, if I’m in the mood.” He gives B a wistful smile. “One last kiss? Once for the road?”
Ernest and Larry: start dating while teens-late twenties, mostly out of convenience because they didn’t see any other option. puppy love. as Ernest slowly joined the firestarters, he began to blame Larry for firefighter activities. Larry becomes an easy punching bag, and the relationship slowly becomes Incredibly Toxic. Larry still trusts him despite all instincts. explains the boiling scene and lack of fear in his eyes. guess this would also be where they began to explore BDSM, most likely in not-so-healthy headspaces. Ernest was a Not Good man.
Ernest and Bertrand: in his later twenties/early thirties, possibly overlapping with Beatrice and Bertrand’s marriage. “special friends,” always on the cusp of a relationship. Ernest desperately fell for Bertrand and naively hoped it would work out. Bertrand, obviously, would never let it. Bertrand always thought it was a fun time and that they were on the same page. When Ernest found out about the engagement he was devestated. Helped confirm his beliefs that firefighters are manipulative, but it dampered his feelings of insurgence. He’s tired.
Ernest and Fernald: late 30s/now (early 40s) started as a relationship out of convenience, very off and on given how little time they spend with each other. Fernald is almost 10 years younger than Ernest, and Ernest sees a lot of himself in the man. Over time they grew infatuated. Started incredibly unhealthy as a way to work out their unhappy feelings about the firestarters, but slowly developed into a place of love and support they need. See each other even less regularly than Dewey and Kit seeing as though the hotel is “majority firefighter.” they’re in love but won’t admit it.
au where the denouements start an inn on some remote coast and Fernald and Ernest are happy and also Fiona is there as is Carmelita, ernest’s adopted brat daughter who has slowly been learning how to act like a reasonable being.
thank you natalia!!! absolutely ship this one they’re delightful to me
What made you ship it?
their differences of attitudes wrt leaving vfd absolutely fascinates me, and also i kind of imagined them as both capable of being polite and charming, so i think it can sort of started of as casual flirting on both sides and possibly develop into more.
also i think they can have a fun thing going on, friends with benefits, it’s easy and casual - but at the same time if we inject the different feelings about vfd into it it gets more complicated and spicier and that’s also very delicious.
ernest sort of “left” vfd by defecting to the other side but in some way both sides are still vfd, still trapped within the organization the schism the cycles, meanwhile bertrand seemed like he and beatrice left vfd and kept the kids away but also there are hints that they’re not as disentangled from it as it might seem on the surface. it’s very intriguing.
even though they’re casual, with no strong expectations of each other, E might still view B’s marriage as “you’re willing to leave vfd for (with) her but not for me”
so in conclusion: they can be really fun but also potential angst. a ship with multitudes <3
2. What are your favorite things about the ship?
all the reasons in q1 but also if i have to pick: the differences in attitudes toward vfd. it’s potentially spicy.
(also their names being bert and ernie is really delightful as well even if i rarely ever refer to them individually as those)
3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?
i dont know if it’s unpopular or not but i think they’re not the type to have much unresolved sexual tension. the bertrand x (one of denouement triplets) pairing with most UST will always be b/f in my mind
His brothers would want to talk about it - Frank because he would want to "damage control" the whole thing, and also to berate Ernest; Dewey because he would want to document everything that happened, and also thoroughly analyze the situation and see how he can subtly pull strings behind the scenes to damage control this. His brothers are all about damage control, so he supposes he's all about causing damage. It's an unfair statement, an overgeneralization, and probably not that accurate anyway - but it is what Ernest's thinking right now.
He does not want to talk about it.
And things are beyond damage control anyway, it's time to take the losses and focus on other missions.
He does not want to go back to the hotel just yet, because that would mean he has to face his brothers. Or worse - the Snicket twins. K would look at him as if he's just proven her right all along. That what she's been telling F and D are correct. And J would be kind, perhaps in a condescending way, which would be irritating, or perhaps in a genuine, sympathetic, very Jacques Snicket way, which would be unbearable. He's uncertain which Jacques would actually be because they're not that close, and he doesn't know him that well.
The moment people know he's back at the hotel, they're going to want to talk to him, and he'll never get a moment of peace.
Kit usually comes on the afternoon of the second Thursday of the month, or the third Monday, if she’s in The City. Or occasionally they will reschedule for some other times too, via letters carried by carrier bats, or secret notes slipped into the pockets of trench coats when one walks past another at the financial district pretending to be strangers, or handwriting scrawled onto the back of temporary bookmarks thrown inside a fake postal box which was actually a woman in disguise.
Because you can’t be too routine in their line of work, or their line of volunteering some may call, since it makes it easier for your enemies to track you. Except for the times you do want to establish a routine to mislead your enemies and make them fall into your trap. Or if you run a large hotel in The City, then most part of your life would be nothing but routines, at least on the surface.
But also, some kind of rule must be established and complete randomness is out of the question, because Beatrice is a mother now. So their not very routine schedule is still slightly routine-ish, a compromise of sorts.
Relationships, after all, are about compromises. Well, parts of it, at least.
It’s 2pm and the kids are at school, so technically Kit is in no hurry to leave yet, but she does have a meeting at the headquarters later that she doesn’t want to be late for, so she thinks she should probably get going sometime in the next 13 minutes. She rolls around to her side, and glances at Beatrice. She lets her glance slide from Beatrice’s disheveled hair to her collarbone to her arms and eventually the ring on her finger, the ring that once belonged to The Duchess of Winnipeg. With a sigh, Kit slowly drags herself up from the bed and starts putting her clothes back on. She frowns at a coffee stain on her tie that she didn’t realize is that noticeable underneath the light.
“Damn it,” she mutters under her breath.
“What’s wrong?” Beatrice asks from the bed, tilting her head slightly but not getting up. “Did you realize you dropped your fashion sense somewhere on the street? I told you those earrings have never been in, not even when they’re in.”
Kit ignores that. “Can I borrow one of Bertrand’s ties?”
Beatrice shrugs, “Sure, sweetheart. Just go and take one.”
“Thank you, you’re a lifesaver,” Kit says, heading towards Bertrand’s wardrobe.
“Obviously,” Beatrice agrees grandly.
****
Kit grabs an iced cold brew coffee on the way back to her taxi and skillfully flips the lid off and gulps down a large sip of coffee, mixed with two ice cubes. She feels the usual satisfaction as her teeth crack down on the ice, a sudden shot of refreshness surging through her. Cold brew coffee at this hour will most definitely keep her wide awake past midnight, but Dewey has plans for organizing the 18th century poetry subsection tonight and she likes to be of help when she can.
New Order’s Round & Round comes up on the radio after she starts the taxi, and with a frown Kit switches the channel and switches again when Duke Ellington comes up. Hell, but she hopes jazz isn’t back in again, it dredges up old memories Kit isn’t too keen to revisit. Finally she lands on one channel playing heavy metal she knows Jacques loathes, which is always an amusing thing to remember, when she remembers.
A bird chirp comes from her phone, and she picks her phone up as she speeds through a yellow light, noticing the incoming text notification from Frank asking her about the details of a report she submitted last week. She throws the phone back to the passenger seat again and grabs the cold brew instead, drinking the coffee and chewing on a particularly challengingly large piece of ice cube. It freezes her brain for a moment, in a good way, or at least that’s how she classifies it.
She runs a stop sign.
****
“Well, these numbers look wrong,” Bertrand frowns, “I’ll run by Mulctuary Money Management to check with them before I pick Violet and Klaus up at the school.”
“I’ve been saying for a long time we should station a secretary there,” Frank covers the speaker end of the phone briefly to grimace at Bertrand before removing his hand from the speaker and talking again, “Yes, of course, Ma’am. One luxury suite for the next weekend, you got it. Thank you for the reservation.”
He hangs up the phone, and picks up the conversation naturally, “But they’re running short on mid-level volunteers right now, so that’s probably not an option.” He gives Bertrand a slightly resentful glare, as if that’s his fault.
“What, you’re blaming me for the shortage?” Bertrand asks.
“I’m not blaming you,” Frank says archly. “But you can’t deny that you and Beatrice’s decision to keep the kids uninvolved required more time and effort of pretense on your parts that ultimately detracts from the time you’re able to do volunteer work.”
Bertrand gives Frank an incredulous, are-you-fucking-serious look. “You agreed with me that it’s best to let the kids have a childhood outside of the organization until they’re old enough for it,” he points out.
“I do, so I didn’t say it’s your fault,” Frank says, “it’s just the natural consequences of things, so to speak. Calm down.”
Bertrand scoffs.
“And we do have a shortage -”
“Yes, due to the schism and other larger environmental reasons,” Bertrand snaps. “Not because Beatrice and I are leading double lives, thank you very much.” He grabs the document from Frank’s desk in a rather brisk manner. “Anyway, I’ll be going.”
He’s almost to the door when Frank says, “I shouldn’t have said that.”
Bertrand doesn’t respond, but he does stop in his tracks. He starts counting to five in his mind, because if Frank thinks that a single line is all it takes -
“I was just … frustrated about the current situation of the organization, and I took it out on you. Look, I don’t actually think it’s your fault. And I’ve always supported your decision to raise the kids away from the organization. You guys were right, we need a change from the previous generation’s model if we were to adapt.”
He thinks, realistically, that this is probably all the apology he’s going to get. And admittedly, it’s a quite sincere and honest one, as far as their standards go.
“Fine,” he shrugs, as an acknowledgement, because that’s just basic manners. And also, in the grander scheme of things, he probably owes Frank one.
Frank gets up from his chair and walks up to him, and then gives him a soft, quiet, and chaste kiss on the lips. “Thanks for taking care of the report,” he says. “I hope the line at Mulctuary won’t be too long.”
Hell, he hopes so too. Bertrand hums in vague agreement.
“Alright, I really got to go,” he says again, softer this time.
Frank nods.
Bertrand leaves Frank’s office and heads for the hotel entrance. Just before he’s about to leave the lobby, a concierge runs up to him. “Mr. Baudelaire,” says the concierge. “The manager asked me to give you this.” He hands him a chocolate croissant in a paper bag, one of the hotel’s specials. Judging by the warmth of the bag, it looks like it’s fresh out of the hotel’s bakery’s kitchen just now. It’s one of Bertrand’s favorite pastries, all the managers of the hotel know that. So do a few of the concierges.
There’s an “F” signed on the lower left of the bag.
“Thank you,” Bertrand smiles his usual polite smile at the concierge that he’s perfected over the years. “Please tell the manager that I appreciate it.”
“Will do,” says the concierge.
****
Jacques frowns when he sees the tie Kit’s wearing. “You’ve been at the Baudelaires again,” he says disapprovingly. Flatly. It’s not a question.
Kit rolls her eyes impatiently, “Yes, and?” Just because her twin is being a celibate who decides to forever pine after obtuse rich idiots, that doesn’t mean she has to suffer in solidarity.
“If you’re going to continue to sleep with Beatrice, don’t you think you should also try to convince her to actually listen to the orders of the assigned missions, instead of liberally interpreting them how she wishes?”
“She’s following the instructions,” Kit says. “Very literally, too. Most of the time.”
“Way too literally,” Jacques scowls. “She should know better.”
“It’s not like she just started doing this now, she’s been like this when we were kids,” Kit waves her hand. “So there’s no reason for you to get so pressed about it now.”
Jacques narrows his eyes in displeasure.
“You,” Kit says sagely, poking Jacques’s shoulder. “Need to get laid. That would be my advice, J.”
****
Late night library organizing with Dewey is always a nice, peaceful time. An oasis from the ever so chaotic world that keeps on spinning and spinning and spinning. It would be ideal if they weren’t occasionally interrupted by his triplet.
Ernest Denouement is sprawled out on a sofa, earphones on, reading what looks like a movie script.
“Can’t you be literally anywhere else that’s not here?” Kit asks.
She watches as he presses pause on his mp3, “What?”
“Why can’t you go to your office? Or, you know, I don’t care, anywhere that’s not here.”
“I like it here, it’s nice,” Ernest says languidly. “Dewey’s set up a very nice place for reading.”
Dewey smiles, pleased. “I’m so glad you like it. I redecorated a bit over the weekend.”
“And it’s excellent,” Ernest reassures him. “Very nice atmosphere.”
“I didn’t know you knew anything about reading,” Kit says critically.
“Well, now you know, Snicket,” Ernest drawls. “Surprised that anyone who’s not a volunteer can read, huh?”
Dewey sighs. “Are you two going to fight again? It’s very tiresome, you know.”
“Sorry, Dewey, but you see how she is,” Ernest shrugs, looking slightly apologetic, a look he generally only reserves for Dewey.
“If you’re not going to help with the organizing,” Kit scowls, rearranging some books on the shelves. “I don’t see a need for you to be here.”
“I’m here, reading quietly, if you’re bothered by my presence that’s your problem, not mine,” Ernest points out. “By the way, nice tie, I have to assume it’s not yours.”
****
The party hosted by the third most important financial advisor of The City is boring, but one they have to make a presence at, due to VFD’s arrangement with the said financial advisor’s real estate company. Josephine used to handle this, but that was before she and Ike moved away to a small town after what Kit usually refers to as The Gregor Incident. Kit initially thought it was a temporary thing, but as years go by, they’re all starting to realize perhaps the Anwhistles have no plans of coming back to The City. They still take on assignments outside The City, and attend important meetings if it’s really needed, but most of the time they like to stay away.
Frank’s on her arm as her plus one, as he often is on such occasions. Most people, volunteers and outsiders they meet on party occasions such as today’s alike, assume they’re a couple. They don’t correct the misconception. Encourage it, even. After all, Dewey’s presence is a secret and Ernest’s loyalty not so much of one, and Occam’s Razor says the simplest explanation is always the best, of something of that sort, Kit imagines, so they go with the easiest, most straightforward explanation people can accept.
Frank’s keeping a neutral expression that isn’t particularly enthusiastic nor particularly displeased, which is very business as usual when they’re outside. He greets people with a professional tone that she used to be impressed with, a decade and half ago.
She sees Esme in the crowds.
“Katherine, darling,” Esme simpers. “What a coincidence to run into you here.”
Esme’s wearing a necklace that Kit recognizes as once belonging to Beatrice. Or maybe it had been Esme’s, and Beatrice just stole it and then Esme stole it back again. Kit can never keep track. She used to be jealous of this weird, strange, almost ritualistic behavior between them, like a secret that only belongs to them, like a game that only the two of them can play, but she’s long over that jealousy now. Well, not completely, but old bitterness and jealousy tend to mellow through time, they don’t completely go away but she’s learned to live comfortably with them by now. It’s actually a little comforting to know that some things stay the same, no matter what. Little truths one can always rely on.
“Nice necklace,” she says, just to let Esme know she recognizes it.
Esme smiles brightly, “Why thank you, darling,” so Kit’s not completely sure if Esme catches the hint or not. It doesn’t really matter, she supposes.
A Daily Punctilio reporter hurries forward, and Kit recognizes her as Geraldine Julienne, one of Jacques’s coworkers. The annoying one. Not that Jacques isn’t annoying himself, but that’s neither here nor there.
“Miss Esme! Can you comment on the Back to the 60’s Fashion Week starting on Sunday?”
In the corner of her eyes, Kit sees Frank pocket a very nice pen from one of the tables.
“And you claim you’re nothing like Beatrice,” Kit comments drily.
“I am very different from Beatrice,” says Frank matter-of-factly, without any trace of shame or guilt. He’s always liked collecting nice pens when he goes out. It’s a hobby. When one runs a large hotel and stays inside it for long periods of time, it’s important to develop hobbies like this. “For instance, she sleeps with you in secret away from the public eye, the image of a perfect mother, while I go as your plus one to social functions. I do wonder if she’s jealous.”
Not more so than Dewey, probably, but Kit doesn’t say that out loud because that will be too much of a low blow and it will ruin the atmosphere here as Frank will actually wallow in guilt for the rest of the party, and they can’t afford that there. She herself will also feel the guilt, not towards Frank, obviously, but towards Dewey. So she says, “Whatever. Let’s dance.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Gladly, Miss Snicket.”
****
“We should really stop doing this,” Bertrand says when they’re done.
“You said that the last time,” Ernest reminds him as he pulls up his pants and then neatly adjusts his cufflinks. “And the time before that,” he adds thoughtfully. “Which is, granted, quite a while ago, since we don’t really get many chances.”
“And I meant it,” Bertrand makes a face. “This isn’t part of the arrangement I have with Beatrice.”
Ernest knows what arrangement he’s referring to, the one which Beatrice and Bertrand are happily married but also Beatrice sleeps with Kit and Bertrand sleeps with Frank and it’s an open secret amongst their small friend circle - for some definition of friend - but only in this little circle, whereas Kit and Frank pretend to be a couple when they attend social functions but she is actually dating Dewey. It’s all very tight-knitted and inclusive and also extremely exclusive because it’s excluding him and he’s bored and frankly, he doesn’t see why Frank should get to have all the fun. Ernest refuses to be excluded like some overly loyal lovesick volunteer pining over a clueless rich idiot. Fuck them if they think he can be kept out of this.
The first time was more or less an accident, though the second one wasn’t. Frank found them out on the third time, but luckily Ernest and Frank have too much stake together over the same things that he managed to convince Frank to cover for them. It’s a tight balance to walk, this can’t happen too often because if covering for them is inconveniencing Frank too much who knows what he’ll do. He might not rat them out, but he can be very annoying in various small ways when he wants to be, it’s a talent of his. Ernest both loves and hates his brother for that. Hates because it’s genuinely so inconvenient at times, loves because he can’t help but admire that a little, plus it’s always nice to see Frank being a little petty, since he’s usually so incredibly uptight that Ernest thinks it must be making world record.
Ernest doesn’t know how Beatrice will react if she ever finds out, though sometimes he thinks it wouldn’t be that big of a deal to her. That it shouldn’t. After all, he’s pretty sure she’s always been vaguely fond of him, even if they’re technically on different sides. He likes to think that he did something she wished she had the courage to have done, but it’s not something they’ve ever talked about. He might just be overly narcissistic in imagining someone like Beatrice Baudelaire could admire or envy him. Still, it’s nice to imagine.
It’s Beatrice Baudelaire, after all.
Kit Snicket, on the other hand, Ernest thinks, might actually kill Bertrand if she finds out, though in Ernest’s opinion, he doesn’t really think Kit gets a say in this. It’s between Beatrice and Bertrand, mainly. But Kit likes to voice opinions on things that’s none of her business, which is so very typical of her. Sometimes he doesn’t know how Dewey can stand her.
“By the way,” he says, changing the subject, but not really because he thinks that this is relevant to the whole arrangement thing. “Did you lend Snicket your tie? I saw her wearing the green checkered one on Thursday.”
****
Kit receives a text message. “K, you go into my house, you sleep with my wife, and you steal my favorite tie?”
She texts back “<3”.
The reply comes fast. “I better have it back by next week.”
****
Beatrice is talking on the phone when Bertrand gets back.
She smiles at him and tiptoes and presses a kiss to his cheek, before continuing on the phone, “That’s wonderful progress, Monty. You know what, fax me your rough plan tonight and I can read over it tomorrow. Alright, bye, love you.”
“Hi, darling,” she says after she hangs up the phone.
“Monty’s latest snake poison research going well?” Bertrand asks.
“Oh, we were actually talking about his planned proposal to Gustav,” Beatrice says. “But I do know the research is going splendidly. Jacques said yesterday we may be able to move forward to the next stage.”
“That’s faster than we anticipated,” Bertrand says, impressed.
“I know, M’s always been an overachiever,” Beatrice agrees. “Hey, what do you say we take the children to that newly opened salmon place for dinner tonight?”
“Cafe Salmonella?” Bertrand raises an eyebrow.
“Exactly,” Beatrice nods.
“Let me guess, Daily Punctilio said it’s in,” he smiles wryly.
“Oh no no, not yet, it will be saying so, in tomorrow’s paper, or so Jacques told me,” Beatrice says. “We’re going to be way ahead of Esme, riding on the very tip of the wave of fashion, darling.”
He smiles fondly. Indulgently. “Are we?” He says. “Well, it has been a while since we have nice seafood.”
“Exactly!” Beatrice beams. “I’m going to get dressed. Oh, by the way, did I remember to tell you Kit borrowed one of your ties? But don’t worry, green isn’t in right now, you can wear the pinstriped one instead.”
“Is pinstripe coming back into fashion again?” He asks, easily sidestepping the question about Kit.
“J says so, so if it isn’t, I’ll call his office at DP and play one of those heavy metal songs he hates so much at him,” she says cheerfully. She looks at the clock. “Give me 30 minutes, and then let’s go pick Violet and Klaus up.”
“i must admit, this is more modern art than any modern art i’ve seen in The Museum of Modern Arts in The City,” bertrand says.
ernest smirks, “i know, right? i am something of an artist, if i do say so myself.”
bertrand looks around the room and the various lemony snicket wanted posters hanged on the walls. it’s impressive, how there are enough versions of wanted posters for lemony that while there are no two same versions on the wall, all four walls are still covered by the posters. it’s probably not a big surprise that lemony has never been caught, considering how none of the posters show his face clearly.
“that one is just an accordion.”
“i know, that’s a classic, if you ask me. i also really like the one where it’s actually J in the picture - although you still can’t see his face.”
“as artistic as this is,” bertrand says. “are you absolutely sure this is the only room not already occupied tonight?”
“yeah, there’s a conference coming up so we’re booked full, this is the only free room. and dewey’s renovating his library right now, so you can’t sleep there.” ernest shrugs. “although i suppose my bed is always an option, if you’re interested.”
ernest and bertrand and [sometimes love isn’t enough] [but did we actually love each other that much] [if we weren’t willing to change for each other] [did we just enjoy each other’s company and that’s it] [right place right time] [but also wrong sides wrong times] [i like you more than i love you] [i understand you more than i can afford to change for you] [if we were braver would things be different] [if we were braver would we still enjoy each other’s company that much] [is it weird to miss someone that lives in the same city as you for years]
