Work Text:
When Ferdinand returns from his meeting, he finds a crisp, white card waiting for him on his desk, propped up against a bag of imported tea. He opens the card, and finds inside a sharp, exquisitely legible script, that reads,
Ferdinand,
The gardens, usual spot, 1900 hours. Do not be late.
Yours in anticipation,
Hubert
Ferdinand lifts the card to his nose, breathes in the familiar and comforting scent of Hubert that lingers on it, and immediately makes himself a cup of tea to calm his own excitement. He hasn’t seen Hubert since they shared breakfast together yesterday morning, and he spends the entire afternoon anxiously awaiting the appointed time, frequently glancing at his timepiece and wishing against all sense to simply skip to the hour.
Work and duty, of course, must come first. Both Ferdinand and Hubert know that, and unfortunately are both prone to overwork. Hubert, however, always knows when to make Ferdinand rest.
Ferdinand dresses smartly for the occasion, putting on a blue jacket that he knows Hubert likes, making sure his boots are polished to a shine, triple-checking his cravat, and brushing his hair until it shines, too. He doesn’t spend an inordinate amount of time either primping or preening, but he does have to admit, once he’s done, that he looks very fine indeed.
At 1900 hours, he finds the usual spot in the gardens—it’s not difficult to find, it’s the usual spot. And tonight it’s considerably less difficult to find, even in the dark, because it’s illuminated with lanterns—some paper, hanging from strings between trees; others artfully placed to form a walkway leading to the table. The lights make the white tablecloth look like it’s glowing, and it has the same effect on the shirt underneath Hubert’s dark jacket. He stands beside the table, his hand on one chair, and they both smile, at the same time, upon seeing each other.
“You look radiant,” Hubert says, holding out his free hand to Ferdinand, who takes it happily and lets Hubert pull him closer.
“Did you do all of this for me?” Ferdinand asks, looking up at Hubert and leaning in close.
“I did,” says Hubert, now lifting his hand to the back of Ferdinand’s head, cradling it beneath his hair. “Of course I did. After the week you had, you deserve this and more.”
“Oh, it was not so…” Ferdinand says, but trails off at the stern look on Hubert’s face.
Last week had been rather wretched, if he’s honest with himself. But Hubert had been there, every step of the way through all those trials and tribulations. When he’d been yelled at on four (four!) separate occasions. The broken teapot (his very favourite!). The late nights trying to work out trade deals (one of them, for now, unsuccessful). The threat to his life (and that person going missing, for some reason). The entire unspeakable incident involving a bench, Ferdinand’s backside, and one very angry wasp (thank the goddess for Linhardt’s healing skills).
“Perhaps it could have been better,” he concedes, which gets a huffed laugh and then a fond sigh out of Hubert, before Hubert presses a tender kiss to his forehead.
“My sweet Ferdinand,” he says. “You deserve this, and more.” He kisses Ferdinand’s forehead again, then pulls back to look at him, stroking Ferdinand’s cheek with the backs of his fingers. “You deserve everything, my love.”
Ferdinand smiles up at him. “Oh, Hubert, that is so sweet of you to say.”
“I’m not finished,” says Hubert. He keeps Ferdinand’s chin tilted up with his fingers—capable of so much, not all of it kind or gentle, but so tender with Ferdinand. “You have my heart, Ferdinand.”
“And you have mine,” Ferdinand says, still smiling.
“My world is incomplete without you in it,” Hubert says, his voice soft and warm and rich. “I am incomplete without you. I want to marry you.”
“Oh,” says Ferdinand, after forgetting how to breathe for a moment.
“Please. Do me the honour.”
“Yes,” Ferdinand whispers. Then, louder, “Yes. Yes, Hubert. I was beginning to worry you would never ask.” And he flings his arms around Hubert, and Hubert hugs him back, firm, tight, and like he may never let go, which Ferdinand wouldn’t mind so terribly much, even if it would make many everyday tasks a bit more of a challenge.
And then, just beyond their spot in the garden, Ferdinand hears… cheering? Yes. Cheering.
He peers up at Hubert, who in turn has tilted his head back to look at the dark night sky. “I told them this was private,” Hubert mutters.
Ferdinand laughs in delight, and as he hears several pairs of footsteps coming towards them, he cups Hubert’s face in his hands and kisses him soundly.
“Yours,” he whispers against Hubert’s lips.
“Yours,” Hubert whispers back.