Work Text:
Laurence tried to never look a gift horse in the mouth, but his prevailing sense of justice urged him to ask, at least once. He did not want someone to unwittingly give more than they intended, especially not someone he held in as high esteem as Tharkay. He wanted to be sure he was not taking advantage of or imposing on his friend, but even he knew that sometimes good things should not be questioned, lest they fall apart.
"Laurence, you must drink," Tharkay said quietly, shocking Laurence out of his thoughts and back to the small creek Tharkay had led him to in the middle of the night. "We can lead Temeraire and the others over soon, but they need their rest and you will be no good to them without water."
"Yes. Yes, apologies, Tharkay," Laurence mumbled, cupping his hands to bring some of the clear water to his lips. It had not cooled from the heat of the day but it was refreshing and reinvigorating after the many weeks spent flying. It had not been easy, first trying to find what route these smugglers must have created across Australia and now chasing after the stolen egg while being pursued by some unknown kidnapper. Tharkay's keen eye and cool demeanor was likely the only reason they had not died in the outback or had their slapdash crew of convicts revolt, which brought Laurence back to his original thought.
"Tharkay," Laurence said softly, as if not to break the gentle quiet that had settled between them. "Why have you joined us this far? You've mentioned your superiors are concerned with the smuggling in Sydney, but they cannot be losing too much money and this idea of a cross-continental route through the difficult environment is tenuous at best. Surely there are better uses for a man as skilled and talented as you."
Later, Tharkay might think back to these words with a small rush, with the knowledge that Captain William Laurence thought him useful, and a larger wash of irritation at letting the opinions of another, a British officer at that, boost his pride so. As it was, Tharkay only hoped Laurence did not notice the way he tensed up. He did not want to have this conversation.
"Do you and Temeraire find my presence has inhibited you in anyway," Tharkay snipped.
Laurence winced, turning back to the water. "No, no, of course not. I only meant... You have done so much for us and I would not want to impose more on your kindness." Laurence thought back to the sewers of Istanbul, the battlefield of Prussia, and his imprisonment in Dover. Each time Tharkay had saved him, had saved Temeraire, when Laurence had nothing to give in return. Tharkay had save more than just his life, but his soul as he accompanied the them to exile and Laurence found he did not know how to repay such kindness.
Tharkay relaxed a little. He knew Laurence did not mean the question as an accusation, but it had felt like one, regardless.
"You have nothing to repay. I apologize for my outburst. I might not be at liberty to share my full mind with you, but you should feel no need to repay an act extended in friendship."
Laurence's heart skipped a beat, though he pushed that feeling aside. For the moment, he was content with the early morning darkness sheltering their small moment together.
_____
The next time Laurence felt pressed to ask, he was tending to the broken hands of his beloved. Having given him back his memory, like a prince in a fairytale, Laurence was forced to confront that he may have certain... affections for Tharkay. If he had realized before stumbling upon the truth about Granby and Little, Laurence likely would have considered it more evidence of a moral failing in him, but that did not mean he was comfortable with his emotions.
Of course, Laurence would never act on his affections. Even if he had know before that he could be an invert, Laurence would never take advantage of Tharkay's generosity and kindness, especially with him being so weak, even after a week's rest. The last thing Laurence needed to be doing was pressuring Tharkay to follow him around the continent once more, but he also knew that Tharkay was not a man accustomed to care. It had taken some convincing to for him to allow Laurence to clean and re-bandage his hands.
"I have managed quite worse on my own; it is no discomfort," Tharkay said, suppressing a wince.
"Hush," Laurence said, not looking up from his work, "Just because you can does not mean you need to. You have done much for us, let me do this for you."
Tharkay silenced at that and the only sound in the small tent was the rustling of bandages against dry skin. In the flickering candlelight, he looked to Laurence like some painting of a worn hero, exhaustion weighing down his shoulders and brow but no less beautiful. As he finished securing the bandages, Laurence became very aware of his position, kneeling on one knee in front of a slumping Tharkay in the only chair in the tent. He felt as if he were a mere servant to someone grand and wonderful, honored for the chance to be so close, even if it must be from below. He wondered at how a man like Tharkay could ever be forgotten.
Laurence blinked and the spell was broken. They were back to being ragged soldiers in rough encampments. He cleared his throat.
"Are you sure you wish to follow us? We mean to make for Russia after the stop in Peking and-"
"I'm sure," Tharkay replied surely, squeezing Laurence's hand with what strength he could spare. It was then that Laurence realized he had never released Tharkay and quickly dropped his hand, though he instantly missed its weight. Laurence stood and balled his fists together behind him.
Laurence could not understand why Tharkay would stall his recovery, potentially with permanent damage, to follow them down hard roads and back to imminent danger. He had already given his all to a country that did not want him and, though his skills would no doubt be useful, he was not, strictly speaking, needed on this journey. That did not mean Laurence could barely imagine leaving him and even now, with concern weighing down his heart, he felt some measure of relief that he could enjoy Tharkay's company in the coming months. He might not understand why, but he wouldn't press when Tharkay was already doing him a greater service than he could know.
"Very well. I hope you do not mind riding with Temeraire, but he has become quite fond of you and I do not believe he has taken your condition particularly well."
Tharkay smirked. "Of course not. I should be honored." Despite the humor in his voice, Laurence believed him.
________
Laurence had never seriously considered the possibility that he would not only survive the war, but be free to settle where he chose. What was a grave lack of responsibility in hindsight seemed the inevitable in the slow crawls of camp movements and the violent battles of war. The best Laurence could have imagined for himself was he would be exiled back to Australia where he and Temeraire could live in peace.
Still, the conclusion of the war and the events directly after had left Laurence with no sure place to land, so when Tharkay offered his home, Laurence eagerly accepted. The exact extant of time he and Temeraire would be guests was not properly discussed, but given that they were helping Tharkay repair his family estate after it had fallen into the neglectful hands of his distant relations, it wasn't as if Laurence and Temeraire would be lolling about.
That is, until Temeraire had announced that he had found the perfect spot for his pavilion and asked Tharkay how best to install a heated floor without disrupting the recovering gardens. Laurence initially tried to dissuade him.
"My dear, this is not our estate and we cannot wear Tharkay's hospitality thin; it would not be right," Laurence hurriedly chided, stroking Temeraire's foreleg as he pouted.
"Please, Laurence, as I have said, you and Temeraire are welcome to stay as long as you like and I would be a bad host to not properly ensure the comfort of all who live in my home," Tharkay replied. Temeraire perked up immediately.
"Oh, yes, you see, Laurence? Tharkay has given his consent and it is ever so hard to sleep on the bare ground," Temeraire begged. When Laurence gave him a look, however, he quickly changed tactics. "And I must stay within a certain distance or I cannot represent this district in Parliment! There is no other suitable plot that is not being used for miles, perhaps anywhere in the district."
Laurence had not thought of that. Of course, Temeraire was almost certainly exaggerating and Laurence was confident they could find some parcel of land to build a small pavilion on, but staying in the district did complicate matters. It wasn't as if he wanted to leave Tharkay, but-
"A pavilion is very permanent, though, Temeraire, and we wouldn't want to impose on Tharkay's freedom. Besides, you would be spending much of your time in London anyway and would not get to properly enjoy a pavilion here. It would only waste unused."
"Ah, but you would stay here and tend to it, Laurence. I know how you dislike going into society and here I can be sure that you will live with fitting standards. After all, we can't just leave Tharkay behind!"
No, Laurence thought, I don't believe I am capable of it.
Fortunately, or unfortunately rather, there was a great crash coming from inside the house and they were all left quite busy until late into the night. In the short time spent here, Laurence and Tharkay had established a routine of retiring to the master bedroom for drinks by the fire, seeing as most of the other rooms were not fit for entertaining. It was here, sitting with a glass of whiskey by the fire, that Laurence's mind returned to their earlier conversation.
"Tharkay," Laurence began. "Thank you for sparing his feelings, but- I understand if the request to build something as grand- that is-"
Laurence was never very good at speaking of things directly, especially when it pertained to delicate matters. He supposed this wasn't truly a delicate matter but Laurence still hesitated to remind Tharkay of the option to toss them out or worse, seem ungrateful. Tharkay had patiently waited for Laurence to find his words.
"If Temeraire has a pavilion built here," Laurence managed, "he will come to see of this place as his permanent home and after so much uncertainty, I could not see him so distraught should you wish your independence back. Nor could I deny you that freedom."
Tharkay was silent for a time, his face a neutral mask and his eyes locked on Laurence. "I do not mind," he eventually said, softly.
Laurence did not expect this. Not that he expected anything in particular, but he did not expect this. "But-"
"Do you wish to leave?" Tharkay interrupted.
"No," Laurence had barely even heard the question before he was compelled to answer.
"Then I see no reason why Temeraire should not have his pavilion. Although, I hope he does not expect the level of opulence that he could find in China." It was clear Tharkay was trying to life the mood and steer the conversation clear of this topic, but Laurence had to be sure. This was no small gift or promise of companionship with a plausible end date. This was Tharkay giving up everything his was for Laurence.
"But why?" Laurence asked, breathlessly.
Tharkay sighed, looking down into his drink. "Is it so incredible that someone should want a good life for you? For Temeraire?"
Laurence sputtered. "But this is too much. You would be giving up your home, and I cannot imagine a wife consenting to living with a traitor and a 20-ton dragon, even if he was away in Parliament for part of the year. You would be giving up the chance of companionship, and I know little of running a house nor would I presume the authority, so you would not be free to travel as you see fit. You would be trapped here. What would you have in return?"
After a moment, Tharkay spoke so softly Laurence could barely hear him. "Your presence would be enough."
Laurence was speechless. "Why?"
Tharkay looked into the fire for a long moment and took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for battle. He set down his glass and turned to fully face Laurence. With the flicker of fireplace, Laurence was reminded of that moment so long ago, or so it felt, to kneel to Tharkay and tend to him. He was just as beautiful now, if not more so. He had regained some of the weight he had lost in captivity and the bruises under his eyes had faded somewhat. Rather than a weary soldier, he looked like a wise suitor. Peacetime looked good on Tharkay. Laurence was brought back to the moment as Tharkay leaned forward.
"Because you're you, Will. Against my better judgement, I have become attached to you in a way I have only felt once before, though I could not fault my affections for landing on one as admirable as you. I care nothing for this house, for this country, but that it may be where you lay your burdens to rest. It will no doubt one day destory me, but if you allow me, I will follow you wherever you go and tend to your needs as if they were my own. If you asked for the world, I would give it to you just to see you smile."
Though he spoke softly, Tharkay had taken off his usual mask to show the most open vulnerability and quiet passion Laurence had every seen on a person. Still, he made no move towards or away from Laurence, patiently awaiting his reply.
Such a grand confession left Laurence breathless. He felt dizzy and his chest was constricting painfully yet also as light as a feather. He found himself shaking his head.
"I would never," he whispered. "I would never ask that of you which might take you away from me, even for a moment."
It was then that he acted. Laurence was never one for words when an action would suffice, so he surged out of his chair and cradled Tharkay's face in his hands, bringing his mouth up to his own. His lips were slightly chapped from the Scottish wind and the taste of whiskey lingered on his mouth, but Laurence could focus on nothing but Tharkay's hands on his waist and the comforting weight of his body.
Laurence broke away first. "I have nothing to offer but myself-"
"You are more than enough," Tharkay interrupted him, capturing his lips once more. Laurence found one hand in Tharkay's surprisingly soft hair and the other dangerously low before Tharkay moved his attention towards his neck and he could no longer think of anything at all.