Work Text:
A fire still burns
Smoking his pipe usually meant a moment of relaxation for Siegfried Farnon. Sometimes that moment lasted longer—in the evening, for example, when he sat by the fireplace in the living room, or when he and Mrs. Hall debated the correct spelling of a word he had chosen over the board game—sometimes it was just the time he could spare while waiting for a farmer to arrive and give him further instructions for a consultation. He loved his tobacco, and he knew Mrs. Hall loved the smell that came with it, too. That was a good thing, because apart from the kitchen and the two examination rooms, pretty much every room in Skeldale House smelled of it. His study especially.
Sometimes she surprised him by bringing him a new pouch of tobacco; sometimes it was a lighter that had caught her eye while she was shopping. It wasn't that he didn't have one, but as with all his possessions, he usually scattered them around without rhyme nor reason and couldn't remember where he'd last held it.
At some point, she had even started carrying a lighter in her apron or skirt pocket, because, as they both knew, he could get quite irritable if he was looking for something and couldn't find it right away.
The only moment of deep relaxation during which he didn't touch his pipe was after making love. After the first, somewhat clumsy attempts, it hadn't even occurred to him to prepare a pipe. Then, when he and Evelyn had become a little more adept at what they did, less shy about being naked, more comfortable staying close to each other even after intercourse, he had switched to smoking cigarettes. One, and that was it. One was enough, because he still preferred his pipe. After Evelyn died, he never touched the half-empty pack of cigarettes in his bedside table again and pushed it to the very back of the drawer. It was another memento from a time when his world had still been in order. Something he hadn't used for years, but which he knew was still there.
“What are you looking for?” Audrey let her long fingers glide tenderly over Siegfried’s bare back, his equally bare buttocks, and his muscular thighs. He had rolled onto his stomach and opened the bedside table drawer, rummaging through it. She felt wonderfully sated, wonderfully exhausted, and more satisfied than ever before in her life. Her body felt sore at places that, until a few hours ago, had been exclusively hers, and her legs felt exquisitely trembling and heavy. And yet, she wouldn’t have it any other way—how could she? She rolled over as well and nestled against his back. As she pressed small kisses to his shoulders, she tried to catch a glimpse of what currently demanded his attention. Her hand traveled down his side and up his chest, where it gently tugged at the hairs sprouting there. “Siegfried, what are you looking for?”
He paused for another moment before letting out a triumphant cry.
“A-ha!”
Audrey, who was quite used to his little, mostly endearing, quirks, even though this was her first time in this intimate situation with him, rolled her eyes indulgently and sank back into the pillows. "What's this?" she asked, nodding her chin at the old cardboard box he was now holding. He turned it between his thumb and forefinger, sighed, and finally held out the open pack for her to look inside. "Cigarettes?"
"Yes."
She rested her head on her hand and watched, fascinated, as he took one out and lit it. The flame from the old lighter flickered upwards. It still seemed to work after all these years.
"I thought you only smoked your pipe." A tingling sensation ran through her as he tilted his head back with pleasure, exhaling the smoke he had just inhaled through his nose. “I’ve never seen you with a cigarette before.”
Siegfried’s lips twitched as he turned his head, his gaze slowly gliding over her. “Well, you’ve never been in my bed either.”
Audrey needed no further explanation. She lifted her chin slightly, letting him know she understood. “The pack looks like you haven’t used it in a long time,” she remarked.
He nodded slowly. “The last time was in March 1933.” He plucked a crumb of tobacco from his lip.
Audrey stretched and pressed a kiss to his shoulder before pressing her cheek to his upper arm. Her loose curls brushed against his heated skin, cascading down to his elbow. How long her hair actually was was one of the surprises he’d discovered when they’d arrived in the bedroom what felt like hours ago. With his free hand, he reached to that mass of curls and began to twirl a strand around his index finger.
“May I ask you something?”
“Mhm.” Siegfried produced a smoke ring, eliciting a spontaneous smile from her.
“It’s something personal,” she added, glancing up at him. He chuckled.
“More personal than what we were doing earlier?”
“Was there no one else, or were there just no one here in this bed?”
“There was no one else.” He answered as directly as she had asked him. “Failed attempts don’t count, do they?”
With a snort, she pulled away from him and rolled onto her back. And then she surprised him a second time that day when she reached out, took the cigarette, and smoked it as if she was used to it. It reminded him of another moment not so long ago, when her cheeks crinkled inward, her cheekbones even more prominent than usual.
“I see, I’ve got myself a dark horse,” he said in a deep voice. “I hadn’t thought there were even more sides to you that I didn’t know.”
Audrey laughed. “You expect to discover them all the first time? That would be a shame.” She tapped the cigarette pack and gave him a tantalizing look. “How is it done, Mr. Farnon… one per round or…?”