Chapter Text
The prettiest of pretty afternoons was rolling over the English countryside, the hazy bright sky shining over the green grass that was swaying along to the soft breeze in the wind. For most people, Speedwagon thought, the expansive view of the rolling hills and fields would be enough to truly relax them. But here he was, sat tense and itching under the thick wool of his jacket, though fortunately shaded by the sweeping branches of a large oak tree.
He looked up from the blank notepad that lay in his lap, and twirled a pen around in his fingers nervously, now facing his immediate view. Two of his friends were standing in a stream no more than twenty yards in front of him Hamon training; Baron Zeppeli striking some unnecessarily dramatic pose, and then the cause of the prickling heat that ran up Speedwagon’s back... Jonathan Joestar.
He really was such a beautiful sight.
Speedwagon allowed his eyes to wander up and down the thick muscular frame of the gentleman a little bit. To hell with it, just staring at him wasn't harming anyone, even though it felt very, very wrong. He watched with widened eyes as Jonathan held his arms up to release Hamon, making his cropped shirt ride up his toned figure, exposing more…well…skin. Skin that was stretched over taut muscle, skin that Speedwagon imagined probably felt so soft and hot…
He tilted his hat down to cover his face a bit, his cheeks now red and flustered all over.
Speedwagon really needed to pull himself together. The world would have his guts for garters just for even thinking about another bloke that way.
He focused his attention back to his notepad, and let out a sigh. He’d convinced himself that writing it all down on paper would help him understand his feelings better, but it still felt so wrong. What if someone found it, handed it in to the cops? He shivered a little at the thought.
But God, he longed to get these feelings out of his mind. Almost without even thinking about it, he touched the tip of his pen to the paper and messily scrawled three words at the top of the page:
‘Dear Mister Joestar,’
Speedwagon was finding it hard to breathe. It was three words, yet it felt like he’d just murdered someone. This was dangerous. Very, very dangerous. His heart drummed against his chest as he continued to write:
‘Dear Mister Joestar,
Since we met on that night, I have grown rather fond of y-‘
The sudden sound of a voice coming nearer almost sent Speedwagon’s pen flying out of shock. Hurriedly, he tucked the paper into the inside pocket of his jacket, beyond caring if he’d crumpled it.
It came to his sudden attention that Jonathan was now running across the field towards him; a huge smile plastered across his gorgeous face, his hair and body still wet from the stream-water, long muscular legs springing across the grass.
“Robert, Robert!” Jonathan called out, waving at him gleefully. It didn’t take him long to reach where Speedwagon was, and once he did he immediately sat beside him, outstretching his legs and turning his face towards his best friend, “Zeppeli said I could have a ten minute break, would you be so kind as to pass me that that towel we packed please? I'm drenched!”
Speedwagon smiled, “Ten minutes ‘eh? That’s it? That old geezer sure works ya’ to the bone doesn’t he!”
“I’m not much of a help if I’m honest, I just can’t get this one blasted technique right and its driving me mad! He is absolutely adamant that I perfect it by the end of today’s training.”
Speedwagon took out a towel from a bag that was placed beside him and handed it over, their fingers brushing slightly in the process. It was embarrassing, but even an exchange so small was making his heart jump all over the place.
There was no point trying to suppress his doting now, the closeness of their bodies was making his mind spiral out of control. They were simply talking, yet even looking at his face during conversation seemed to be enough of a distraction on its own. Speedwagon met his gaze with Jonathan’s blue eyes and gave him a look of reassurance.
“I wouldn’t worry much ‘bout that Mister Joestar, you’ll ‘ave the technique cracked in no time I’m certain.”
Jonathan let out an adorable laugh, “Dear God Robert, I’ve told you so many times, call me ‘Jonathan’. There’s no need for formalities!”
Speedwagon put his hands in his pockets somewhat shyly, “Yes, yes I know. It’s just hard to get the grip of sometimes…I still don’t feel like I belong with rich folk like y’self Mister Joes- I mean Jonathan.”
Jonathan beamed and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Much better! And please don’t go worrying yourself with that nonsense dear friend, I value your company as much as I would any other respectable and fine nobleman, even more so, in fact! You really must be softer to yourself sometimes.”
“If ya’ say so… you’re really too kind.” Speedwagon responded somewhat bashfully, suffering through the internal rush of heat that Jonathan’s lovely words had caused to surge through his chest.
Jonathan had begun to dry himself, stroking the towel over his arms and rubbing it through his hair, water droplets sliding down his chiselled jawline and his neck. At first, Speedwagon looked away politely, but curiosity got the better of him just seconds after his attempted restraint. He didn’t really know what to do except sit and stare, so he started to pick some flowers from the grass as a distraction.
“You're picking daisies! How pretty!” Jonathan commented, an angelic tone spreading through his oh so lovely voice. Speedwagon realised how ridiculous he must have looked. If his old friends from Ogre Street could see him right now, gently holding a small bouquet of daisies in his hands like this. They'd have teased him for weeks.
Jonathan leaned over and took two of the flowers out from the grass as well, tying them together with his large hands. It was truly precious to watch, and Speedwagon could almost feel his entire soul melting out of love for the man before him.
“Have you ever made a daisy chain before, Robert?”
Speedwagon was most amused at Jonathan’s naivety, “In London? Not a chance! Too busy stealin’ and slicin’ up people with my trusty blade hat that you got to experience first-hand!”
Jonathan laughed, a beautiful hearty laugh that seemed to light his face up like he was wearing a halo of some sort, “That was a silly question, wasn’t it?” He held out his left arm, where the deep mark of Speedwagon’s blades had cut into his skin on the night they first met. “I am quite strangely fond of this scar.”
“Why? I sliced you like a knife through butter! It was awful. I’m still ashamed of myself for hurtin’ you like that.”
Jonathan continued to pick more daisies; his chain had started to grow to a rather impressive length. “Because,” he said kindly in response, “it reminds me of how far you’ve come, Robert.”
Speedwagon tensed up, that familiar hot rush of bashfulness creeping up his face once more. He was utterly enamoured.
“I’m flattered you think of me that way,” he eventually answered, a little quieter than usual. “I don’t deserve you-“
“Don’t say that!"
“It’s true though! Your kindness is the reason I followed ya’, you’re-“ he stopped himself from bordering love territory and saying something stupid, “-you’re the finest man I’ve ever met. I’d follow ya’ till the ends of the world if ya’ needed it.”
Jonathan added the final few daisies to his chain. “You never cease to amaze me” he said quietly, his eyes still transfixed on his hands.
Speedwagon relished in this moment. Jonathan was just so lovely. So, so lovely.
It was then that the gentleman spoke up once more, “Here, consider this a token of my appreciation!” Jonathan leaned over and placed the completed daisy chain on top of Speedwagon’s head, the soft white flowers sitting against the golden locks of his hair.
This sent him into fits of laughter, “Jonathan! I bet I look bloody ridiculous!“
“No, no! It looks lovely on you-”
Suddenly, a figure appeared in front of them: it was Zeppeli with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised.
“Jonathan.” He said, professional and elegant as ever, “Back to work now. Your ten minutes is up.” He gave Speedwagon’s new accessory a funny look and allowed himself a smirk, “Nice crown by the way”.
Speedwagon fidgeted with it and pouted, “Oh shut up, old man.”
Jonathan let out a giggle, “Now, now you two- Baron Zeppeli, I won’t tolerate teasing!” he stood up and brushed off some grass that had stuck to his legs. Before he walked away with Zeppeli, he turned around to look at Speedwagon one more time, giving him a smile so angelic that it could melt steel.
Speedwagon watched them walk back to the stream, his head swimming with what felt like an entire swarm of butterflies.
‘It looks lovely on you’
If Jonathan truly meant that, Speedwagon was determined that he never ever wanted to take the bloody thing off. He would hammer that silly flower crown to his head if it pleased Jonathan’s lovely eyes.
Speedwagon sunk down against the tree-trunk, wallowing for a bit. He reached back into his pocket and brought out the notepad again, clicking the end of his pen to start writing. It took lots of spelling errors, ripped out pages, and scribbled out lines but eventually the page was full. He was no master poet, but he’d tried his hardest. This one page was everything he’d ever wanted to say, everything his heart had been storing since he realised the extent of his love. It was one flimsy piece of paper, yet it had the power to mess up his life if anyone found it.
He read it through one more time, debating whether or not he should just burn it to be safe. Eventually, he made the dangerous decision to keep it. He'd spent what felt like an eternity writing the damn thing, and it did feel good to have all his feelings out of his own frantic mind. To be safe, he'd just hide it. No one would have to know.
Sun was beginning to set, signalling that Hamon training was about to come to an end. Speedwagon had been so absorbed in his writing that the entire afternoon had passed him by in an instant. He stood up, stretched out his back, and tucked the paper into his inner pocket again. Jonathan and Zeppeli looked deep in conversation about something, but it looked as though they were thereabouts finished. Speedwagon strode over to where they were chatting:
“You two all done?”
Zeppeli turned to face him, “Yes, Jonathan perfected our goal for today, and I am very satisfied with his progress. We’ll be off ready to go on our journey tomorrow if he keeps this up.”
Jonathan looked wonderfully vibrant as ever, “Isn’t that great Robert?" he said, delighted spirit radiating from his pretty smile, "If we’re off on our adventures so soon we all must celebrate now once before we leave town! Let’s go and have a drink...my treat!”
Zeppeli perked up at this suggestion, “Oh yes please Jonathan, I could really do with a glass of red wine.”
Speedwagon smiled, “I can second that, not the red wine though, I’ll be on the lagers!”
“Great!” Jonathan cheered, slapping his friends on the back playfully. Before they knew it, the three of them were off headed to the to the town pub, lost in excited chatter about what was to come on their soon to be adventure.
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“Another glass? Oh Zeppeli, you’re going to be all squiffy if you drink anymore!” Jonathan laughed, tapping his fingers against the empty glass of brandy that sat in front of him.
The three of them were sat round a very comfortably seated table in the corner of the local pub. The atmosphere was one of pure warmth, loud drunken chatter filled every inch of the crammed building, the mellow brown tones of the wooden ceiling beams and walls adding to the feeling of cosiness. Speedwagon felt oddly at home here: it was far nicer than most of the grotty establishments he was used to going to in London, but there was something so warm about pubs that he loved. He loved the liveliness of it, that familiar musty smell of fire and sweat... and of course the beer.
“I’ll cheers to that! It’s been a long day ‘asn’t it? Pour another one Baron!” Speedwagon exclaimed, picking up his half-filled pint glass and holding it out to Zeppeli, who clinked his glass of wine against it.
“Cheers!” they both shouted in unison, quickly downing their drinks afterwards.
Speedwagon was feeling the most relaxed he’d been in weeks. After he’d chugged his drink in an impressively short amount of time, he looked over to Jonathan, who was watching him. Their gazes met for an instant and they both instinctively smiled warmly to each other. Jonathan leant back in his chair and stretched out his arms; the gentleman had since changed into dry clothes, and was now wearing a dark blue jumper which Speedwagon noticed matched his eyes almost perfectly. He swooned a little at the gorgeous sight in front of him... it just wasn’t fair. He was so irritatingly handsome.
Speedwagon felt himself getting hot all over for the second time in one day. When he'd gone to take off his jacket, Jonathan had offered to keep hold of it as there was more room on his side of the table.
The three of them became lost in conversation once more, both Speedwagon and Zeppeli becoming more and more lively as the drinking continued, and Jonathan very amused at the sight of his two best friends so happy and relaxed. Hours went by and the sky outside turned from a dusky evening red to pitch black. In usual British spirit, the building was still full with people even at this ungodly hour.
Zeppeli, now very drunk, rose from his chair and straightened out his hat. “Ahhh, right! It's been a good night hasn’t it? I…uh…I think it's time I make my way home now…” He leaned his weight on the table for support, “I’ll see the two of you tomorrow…don’t be late now will ya? Haha…alright…bye!”
“Dear God Baron, take care! You really are in a state, get some rest! See you tomorrow!” Jonathan said, humoured yet despairing slightly of his coach’s current condition.
“See ya’ tomorrow you silly old geezer, don’t fall’ over on the streets on ya’ way home!” Speedwagon exclaimed, laughing at himself.
Zeppeli said goodbye once more, then made his way across the room and out of the door, staggering a little as he weaved around the tables of people.
Jonathan looked at his pocket-watch, “It really is late, it’s past midnight now! C’mon Robert, you’ll be awfully tired tomorrow if you don’t rest properly tonight. Stay over at my house and I’ll walk you home.”
Jonathan offered him a hand as both the men stood up. He was still carrying Speedwagon’s jacket with his other arm. “Do lean on me if you need to! I must say, I never thought I’d see the pair of you like this!”
“Haha…yeah…” Speedwagon looped one arm around Jonathan’s and leant against him for support, “lead the way then! I’m bloody hammered…”
“Yes, you certainly are! Watch your steps now!”
The pair of them made their way out on to the streets, Speedwagon's mind was hazy and light, the only focus of his attention being the way Jonathan’s soft jumper felt against the bare skin of his lower arms, the way his thick muscle felt pressed to his own, the way he smelt of worn cologne…
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Eventually, the two of them reached the outside of the Joestar estate, but before they entered the door Speedwagon suddenly stopped in his tracks.
Jonathan placed a nervous hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”.
“Uhh…yeah issjust…I need a smoke outside…you go inside mate I’ll come in in a minute.”
“Oh, I see. I’ll leave you to it. Please be careful though, you don’t sound awfully well.” Jonathan let go of his arm and made his way towards the front door, “I’ll be in the sitting room when you come in. Don’t be too long!”
Speedwagon watched as he entered the house. He was now alone to sort himself out a bit, at least. He really did need a smoke. The entire day had been a draining series of events.
He sat down on the outdoors stairs and took a moment to collect his thoughts. The night was pleasantly temperate and the moon was full and bright, yet he struggled to look at it properly as his head was spinning a little. He took in a deep breath, thinking about how much he had adored spending so much time of his day with Jonathan, how utterly elated that man seemed to make him feel with his presence alone. Head in his hands, he replayed the events of hours before. The tender sweetness of the daisy chains, their shared smiles, the way they just seemed to connect so perfectly.
He longed to connect more. Days like this were fun, but they weren’t enough. It disgusted him a little. It was disgusting to feel like he was longing for something so morally frowned upon. He’d committed plenty of crimes in his life, yet being so madly infatuated with this gentleman left by far the most horrible feeling of guilt in his stomach.
Speedwagon reached into his trouser pocket.
“That’s strange,” he thought to himself, “I swear I put my bloody pipe in here…”
He thought about it for a minute. Then his heart dropped.
It was in his jacket. Which was with Jonathan.
His jacket.
The letter.
---------------------------
Speedwagon stood up and rushed to the door, almost tripping over some of the steps as he did so.
He felt sick and his mind was in full panic mode. Of course, there was the possibility that the other man may not have taken notice of what was in the jacket’s pocket but there was still a chance that he did. And that thought alone was terrifying enough as it was.
Feeling his entire life flash before his eyes, Speedwagon swore every inch of him was crumbling away with dread. He fiddled with his hair nervously as he entered the mansion and searched for Jonathan so he could retrieve his stupid jacket back to safety.
Finally, he made his way to the sitting room. To his horror, the door was closed.
He took in a deep breath. He was truly disgusted with himself. He felt tears pricking at his eyes, but he quickly blinked them away. He deserved this for having such shameful thoughts about his friend. He deserved this for being so foolish for writing them down.
When he turned the doorknob and opened the door, his entire chest ached with fear.
The room was silent apart from the gentle crackling of a large fireplace. Jonathan was sat on one of the large sofas, staring at the wall. His cheeks were stained with tears, and his hands were nervously gripping a small piece of paper in his lap.
Speedwagon felt time stand still as he looked at the man before him.
This was what he deserved for wanting so much more than he deserved. He was so terrified that he couldn't move, couldn't breathe. His mind was screaming at him, guilt and hate stirring in his ears: Disgusting. You're disgusting. Over and over again. He began to even hear it in Jonathan's voice now, in his own head, telling him to go away and leave him alone forever and that he was going to hell.
Jonathan had suddenly looked up at him, fresh tears running down from his eyes. He wiped them with the back of his hand.
Speedwagon stared down at the floor.
“I’m sorry Jonathan…” he said it so quietly that it was barely even a whisper. “I’ll go.”
He turned to leave, his legs shaking as he took a step towards the door. He paused abruptly when a shaky voice responded to him:
“Robert…”
Speedwagon stood dead in his tracks. He didn’t dare say another word.
“Don’t…don’t go…p-please…”
Speedwagon turned to face the gentleman. Tears began to leak from his eyes.
“I can’t be here…I can’t…you don’t deserve this."
Jonathan swallowed back a sob and stood up. He walked over to Speedwagon and wrapped his arms around him, squeezing him close. He put his head on his friends shoulder and spoke softly,
“Darling…darling, darling Robert…please don’t cry." He was talking between sobs, and his words were breaking as he tried to continue his sentences.
Speedwagon held Jonathan tight. He held him like he was holding on to him for dear life.
“I’m so sorry…” he whispered. It was all he could stomach saying. Jonathan was being so kind, so warm, and he didn’t deserve it. He felt horrible, ashamed, disgusted. He had no right being treated this nicely. All he could do was apologize.
Jonathan cupped his friend’s face in his hands. Speedwagon's heart raced as he looked into the gentleman’s glazy eyes.
“The truth is…” Jonathan said softly, “…I am rather fond of you too, Robert.”
“...what?"
“Shhh…I speak from the heart when I say that, well...“ he cleared his throat, “you fill my heart with more warmth than any person alive. The beautiful words you wrote for me, they reduced me to tears…” he sniffled, “you…you…” he paused again to swallow, “you complete me. Truly.”
Speedwagon felt as though he was going to fall to the floor. He reached a shaking hand up to the side of the other man’s face and ran a thumb under his teary eyes.
“I'm madly in love with you, Jonathan” he confessed gently, feeling absent from his own body. "Have been since the day we met."
Jonathan moved his face closer slowly, pausing when the tips of their noses were only just touching.
“May I…may I kiss you?” he asked, his wet eyelashes fluttering as he blinked nervously.
Speedwagon nodded, still shaking.
The fireplace crackled against the otherwise silent room. The air felt thick with alcohol-scented breath and tears.
Jonathan put his hand under Speedwagon’s chin and gently lifted his face upwards, turning slightly to press their lips together.
Speedwagon had never felt more elated; his head was spinning still, his movements wobbly and drunken. His arms made their way around Jonathan’s neck as he pulled himself closer, feeling the firm grip of the gentleman’s hands on his waist.
Jonathan tasted like brandy and sugar. He was simply as irresistible as boiled sweets and warm tea on a rainy day. He was soft and perfect; utterly, truly perfect.
As they pulled away, still holding on to each other like wrecked voyagers grasping onto dry land, both men couldn’t help but smile.
Jonathan squeezed Speedwagon tighter and playfully kissed at his cheek, before pulling him gently down on to the sofa and on to his lap, wrapping his arms around him as if he were cradling a small child. Speedwagon lay his head down on to Jonathan’s chest, feeling the warmth of his heartbeat against the soft material of his jumper. The gentleman’s large hands gently caressed at his golden locks of hair.
“Please rest now dear, we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”
Speedwagon smiled and closed his eyes shut.
“okay...”
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A letter written from Robert Edward Speedwagon to Jonathan Joestar, 1888:
“Dear Mister Joestar,
Since we met on that night, I have grown rather fond of you. So fond, in fact, that you are all I ever think of. I won’t fight this feeling any longer, yet I'm still afraid to let it show. I am writing this perhaps out of a sense of curiosity, for I know this piece of paper may never meet your eyes. The truth is, I feel nothing but secure when we're together, you have offered me a warmth that I never once dreamed of experiencing.
I always wondered what it was like to feel a sense of direction. Following you made me realise that being by your side is the closest I’ll ever feel to needing something. My life has been such a whirlwind since I saw you, since you showed me what it meant to be kind in a world that has dealt me it’s hardest cards since the day I was born.
It's most unfortunate, but I love you. And there is nothing I can do about it.”