Work Text:
March, 1775
Gabriel stood in the doorway of the Martin family home, clutching the letter in his hands, the letter he'd received from a minute man only moments before. As he had read the words, his legs trembled with grief.
We regret to inform you that Corporal Benjamin Martin is presumed to be missing...feared dead...
"Father." Gabriel sighed. "No. No."
He swallowed hard and stuffed the letter inside his pocket, his hands violently shaking. He took a deep breath and made his way towards the parlor. Thomas Martin sat by the empty hearth, watching his younger siblings play, contented. Gabriel's heart dropped as he saw his three little brothers and two younger sisters laughing and carrying on at some imaginary game.
He couldn't tell them, not now. Susan was the smallest, just barely four and too young to understand. Mustering up courage, he called for Thomas.
"Yes, brother? What do you need?" Thomas gave him a puzzled look, disturbed by Gabriel's uneasy manner.
"It's Father." Gabriel replied.
"Has he returned home?" He looked at his older brother, reading the distress in his face. "Oh, Gabriel. He's injured, isn't he? Something terrible? We'll have to fetch him. What does it matter if he's missing a leg, or part of his face, he's still-"
Gabriel's hand on his shoulder made him cease. The older Martin pulled the letter from his pocket.
Thomas took it without word and read quietly.
Gabriel put his head in the crook of Thomas' neck and was finally overcome with sobs. Thomas' voice wavered as he spoke, stroking his brother's loose blonde curls.
"We will be alright, Gabriel...ssshh..."
Gabriel whimpered and embraced him, desperate need for comfort overflowing.
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I didn't fall in love with Thomas on that day. I had always protective of him, but there was also something else. I have felt drawn to him for nearly all my life.
I had quite the collection of books: Shakespeare, Rousseau, the Bible, the works of Paine, Voltaire, and Diderot. One night, long after Father and the children had retired to bed, I placed myself in the front room's rocking chair and began reading Cleland's scandalous Fanny Hill by candlelight.
Maybe an hour later, Thomas crept down in his nightshirt. He stood before me, looking somewhat annoyed.
"You should be in bed, Gabriel." He commented.
"Why, are you cold without me?" I replied, grinning. As did our sisters and brothers, we shared a bed.
"Gabriel, you need to go to sleep." He chastised. "Staying up all hours isn't good for you at all."
His eyes shifted towards my reading material. "Just what is so interesting?"
"It's Pliny's Natural Histories." I lied. "It's boring stuff, not your cup of tea-"
"Oh, really?" He snatched my book from me and opened it. I watched his eyes as they scanned the pages. "....'Not the plaything of a boy, not the weapon of a man, but a maypole of so enormous a standard, that had proportions been observed, it must have belonged to a young giant'. I had no idea Plutarch was so randy, brother."
I said nothing in response, my person was aflame to something, shame or lust, I had no clue which.
"Gabriel Edward Martin, I have half a mind to tell Father you stay up at night reading bawdy novels about loose women." He frowned.
"Not if I stop you." My reply was quick. I grabbed him by his waist and pulled him on my knee, holding him bound to me. Thomas grunted and squirmed violently as he tried to break free of my grasp.
"Don't you dare tell Father; only babies tattle." I admonished. "And if you start, Thomas Giles Martin, I will tickle you until you can't breathe. I swear it!"
"You wouldn't!" My brother hissed.
"Yes, I will!" I took action, tickling him under his chin first. He squirmed and tried to pull away. As he did, my hands tugged up his shirt so I could attack his thighs. Thomas made a sound between a shriek and a gasp as we wrestled to the floor, my hands travelling up his sides and under his arms. Thomas was struggling under me, laughing and trying to buck me off of him.
"Oh, oh, Gabriel! Do stop! I can't take it!" His eyes were wet with tears, some streaming down his face. "I won't tell; just promise you'll stop tickling me!"
"Do you swear you won't tell?" I had straddled him, gazing down at his gray eyes. "Swear on God?"
"Yes, I swear!" He tugged his shirt down. As I moved off of him, he sat up and faced me. Then upon my lips he placed a chaste and tender kiss. "Does that seal it?"
"Yes, Thomas." I sighed and grabbed the tome from the floor. "We should get to bed before we wake the whole house..."
The memory of the kiss forever burned in my mind, I slept peacefully beside Thomas. But before I did that, I decided I was in love with him.
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At breakfast a few days later, Gabriel announced the news of their father, though omitting the "feared dead". He was somber, but his his pain. Thomas sat beside him, just as serious.
"When will Father return?" Margaret asked her brother.
"He's missing, Meggie; that means they don't know!" Samuel Martin had every mind to kick his little sister, but he didn't.
"Sam, stop that rudeness." Thomas snapped. Beside Samuel, little Susan began to cry. Will and Nathaniel tried to comfort the little girl and soothe her.
"Children, Father will return eventually. The war going on is very treacherous. It could be years, or it could be a matter of days." Gabriel cleared his throat. "But from now on, until he comes home, I will act in Father's place." He was straight-backed, proud of the words coming from his mouth. "As the eldest, I will protect and provide for all of us."
"Will we have to call you 'Papa' now, Gabe?" Susan asked him, wiping her eyes. "I don't want another Papa..."
"No. You don't have to, sweetheart." Thomas replied. "He'll just take care of us like Father did."
Thomas shot Gabriel a look of reassurance.
"Exactly. Life will go on as usual; none of you need to worry." Gabriel said. "Finish your breakfast now. There are chores to be done today."
He grinned as he noticed Sam and Nathaniel groan in protest.
Thomas grabbed his hand under the table and gave it a gentle squeeze.
When breakfast was finished, only Thomas and Gabriel remained at the table. Gabriel's stoic facade cracked as he blinked back tears.
"How will I do this?" He whispered. "I can't do this by myself."
"You have me, brother."
Gabriel slunk from his chair into his knees, resting his head on Thomas' lap.
"I need you, Thomas."
Thomas stroked his older brother's loose blonde curls.
"I am not going anywhere, Gabriel. We'll win this war together."
Together was all Gabriel needed to hear.