Title: Where There's Sea
Pairing: Dorian Gray/Tom Sawyer
Summary: Where there's sea, there's seasickness.
Warning: Implied slash?
Rating: K
This plot is, at best, completely illogical. Just go with it.
They don't really get involved. It's merely implied a little. Still SLASH though.
The beginning is based loosely off one of the deleted scenes, of course.
The eager boy followed swiftly in the steps of his accomplished mentor, not a speck of an idea in his head as to where they were going but content enough to trail behind his new teacher. Eventually, the curiosity that had cursed the blond his whole life caught up to him as they took another corner in their stride. "Where we goin'?"
"I have a question that I need to impose upon our Mister Gray." The older man didn't turn or slow, but held a file above his shoulder. "A question concerning one of the kidnapped scientists."
The boy huffed in a not too quieted tone and muttered, "Gray," under his breath.
"Have you something against the man, Sawyer?"
"Yeah, I suppose I do." His arms met his chest and crossed in an irritated manner. "Arrogant, narcissistic dandy."
"Oh, is that all?" Quartermain was chuckling to himself. "He is quite the fop, isn't he?"
"Well, that ain't the whole of it." He slowed his pace, as did his teacher. "I can't really say I trust the guy is all."
"Now, is this a feeling you have in your gut or is it because the man tried to keep you from coming along?"
Sawyer's gaze fell to the floor, the childish words from his mouth unworthy for his eyes to meet such a stern and established stare from his mentor. "It…may be a little of both."
"Well, bully for you, Sawyer. I'll tell you now that you can ignore Gray all you want on the ship, but when we pull into Venice, you need to be a man and overlook any grudges. That sort of neglectful thinking within a team can, and has, killed before."
"I'm aware, don't you worry. I know better than to let a personal grudge go and affect how I fight."
"Good." Quartermain's feet stopped short and the boy near collided into him. He extended his hands towards the door they had arrived at and four quick taps knocked upon it. "Mister Gray? If I may have a word?"
The hall heard no sound of agreement or disapproval. The hunter rapped again. "Mister Gray?"
A soft reply carried through the wood of the door. "Go away. I'm in a rather unaccommodating mood at the current time."
"And when exactly will your mood return to accommodating?"
"Never. Now go back the way you came and bother someone else." The answer carried a rushed tone near its end. A thumping noise reverberated off the floor and then hurried thuds like footsteps.
Quartermain sighed. He pulled his hand to his temple and massaged his brow. "I don't have the bloody time for this. I have other places to be. Here," he shoved the fingered folder that he carried into Sawyer's hands and began his walk back down the hall.
The boy was quick on his heels again, and Quartermain turned to him with a firm look upon his face. "And just where are you going?"
"You said you have to be places," Sawyer stated matter-of-factly.
"Yes, I do. You don't." The hunter's hands met the boy's shoulders and he turned him to face back towards Dorian's door. "You stay. Make him open the door. When he finally gets out of that godforsaken foul mood of his, ask if he knows any information on a Mister Karl Draper."
"Alright, now you're just bein' cruel." Sawyer tried to shove the folder back into Quartermain's hand, but the man wouldn't take it. "Come on, I just told you I don't like the guy."
"Sawyer, I'm going to tell you something that every man realizes at some point: Life is full of more things you don't want to do than it is strolls on the beach. Now, wipe that childish pout off your face and go harass our colleague." The hunter's footfalls disappeared around the corner before a chance of rebuttal was ever available to the boy.
The blond sighed and walked back to the door of Dorian's stateroom. "Hey, pretty boy, open the stupid door already, won't ya?"
"God, are you still there? I distinctly recall telling you to run along." A slight retching noise clambered through the door, a loud thud crashing upon the floor its successor.
"Hey, you okay in 'ere?" Tom pounded on the door. "Hey. Gray!"
No reply.
"Hey!" The boy continued beating on the wooden frame. "That's it." Sawyer stepped a few feet from the door and raised his foot, ready to kick the door in.
Just as his boot was about to collide, the door opened of its own volition, his only defense from kicking its owner being to hop on one foot before tumbling to the floor.
"My hero, kicking down doors just to ensure my safety. I'll warn you now though, I'm not won over by theatrics. It will take more than that."
Tom sat up from the floor, rubbing his head where it had hit against the opposite wall. "Yeah, well don't flatter yerself just yet. Not here 'cause I want to be." He raised his eyes to his companion and was more than a little stunned by the appearance he took in.
Dorian's normally healthy skin was a dreadfully pale hue; his cheeks were flushed and dark circles adorned his eyes. His dark hair was chaotically pulled to the nape of his neck with a ribbon. The immortal's gray jacket and vest were missing in action, and the top buttons of his white shirt were messily undone. Tom found himself able to say only one thing about Dorian's uncharacteristic appearance, "You look like hell."
"Yes, well so do you I'm afraid. And you're not even having an off day." His head recoiled back into his room and the door began to swing shut. Tom stuck his foot in the crevice to keep it open.
"You ain't gettin' rid of me that easy." He came to his feet, all the while keeping his boot in place. "I've got a question to ask you."
Dorian glared at Tom but allowed his door to open. "I suppose as long as you make it quick." He receded into his dark room and the blond followed.
The immortal paused at the table, his hand rested upon it. His features turned dark and sickened. "I…I'm afraid I…" Before Tom could even ask what was ailing him, the man had dashed into the adjoining room, a lavatory.
The blond strolled to the door curiously and leaned against the wall of the room that Dorian had made his disappearance. "Are you alright?"
He heard heavy panting and what sounded like unproductive heaving. Several minutes passed and Tom heard water pour through the facet. Shortly afterward, the door opened hesitantly and Dorian poked his head out. Seeing Sawyer, he growled under his breath and stepped out. "I thought you left."
"What and miss all this?" The boy chuckled loudly and ran a hand through his unruly hair. "You're seasick," he said through his amused laughter.
"Am not," the immortal stated, his hand resting heavily on the doorframe. "I've just been struck by a run of nausea, probably from the poor menu on this ship."
He released the wood from his hold and shuffled a few steps. His hand reached out in front of him for something to grab onto, and his knees buckled. Dorian never hit the ground though because Tom's arms were under his, supporting his frame. "And I'm just a little dizzy."
Sawyer laughed in his ear. "Wow, I wonder how long it's been since I saw someone get a little green at the gills." Dorian tried to shake the American off, but Tom simply led him to a chair and sat him down. "Granted, if you're gettin' dizzy, it's more than a little."
"I'm perfectly fine." Dorian relaxed into his armchair and rested his head on its back, shutting his eyes. "Now ask your question and be off."
"Haven't you ever left England before? I mean, did you get sick then too?" Tom joined Dorian and sat in the adjacent chair.
"That's the important question that you felt the need to bother me with?"
"Nope, just curious," Tom said as he raised his feet onto the stand between the chairs. "You seem like the travelin' type is all."
"Yes, I've traveled outside of England before, not often, but I have." The immortal began to take deep breaths of air into his lungs, perhaps feeling another bout of nausea.
"Ya know, all that vomiting ain't gonna make you feel any better. If anything, it'll probably just dehydrate you."
Dorian turned his head; a sardonic gaze was aimed at Tom. "A doctor now, are we?"
"Nah, I just spent enough time in my life on boats to know. So, you'll need to drink plenty of water."
"I don't need medical advice from a border ruffian such as yourself. I'm perfectly aware of what dehydration is. If you want to be any help at all," he gestured towards a pitcher on a bureau against the wall, "you will get me a glass of water."
Tom huffed, his good nature not letting him desert a person in such a severe state of weakness, even if he was reminded the entire time he poured the liquid exactly why he hated the other man. Pompous jerk.
He handed Dorian the glass and he took it impatiently. No thanks given. "Now wait a minute," Tom paused as he sat in his chair, "don't you live on the docks?"
"Yes, well nothing says 'good morning' like the smell of freshly poached fish at daybreak."
"Really?"
Dorian took a drink of his water. "No." He knocked Tom's feet off his table and sat his glass on it. "So what did dear Mister Quartermain require of me?"
The blond tried to hand Dorian the folder, but the other man didn't take it. "He wants to know if you got any information on one of the scientists that was kidnapped. Apparently, he's the only one that doesn't specialize in weapons of war. Quartermain thinks there's somethin' up."
"Why would he think that I have any knowledge on the man?" Dorian asked impassively.
"When was the last time that guy honored anything with an explanation?" Tom's comment actually instilled laughter in Dorian. He wasn't laughing at him either.
"True. There are oft times when there seems to be no explanation to his methods." Dorian's fingers wrapped around his glass and he took another long drink. He glanced at the file that Tom passed him again. "I'm sorry, but I know nothing of your mystery scientist."
"Honestly, I didn't think you would. I was actually thinking of leavin' before I heard that loud crash in yer room."
"Ah, that. I seem to have lost my balance on the way to the facilities. I fell." He explained.
"Well, that sounds pretty serious. Are you going to be okay?" There was a natural concern in Sawyer's voice that even his dislike for the other man couldn't mask. He couldn't leave a person in such a fragile state though. It wouldn't sit well with him.
"I assure you that I'll be fine before we reach the conference." He rested his head back on the head of the chair and closed his eyes.
"Alright then, if you're sure. I'll let myself out." Tom rose from his chair and exited the room. He had no sooner closed the door behind him that he heard those hurried footsteps from within again.
Dorian sighed and ran water from the sink over his face. A glance in the mirror showed that he truly looked unlike himself; he appeared half-dead. Bloody ship. Something of this size, he shouldn't even feel move. Nevertheless, he felt every wave that hit its side. Every league they dove or rose. He dried his face on a towel and opened the door to his room.
"Good God! Now this time I know you left." There was Tom again, leaning against his wall and waiting for him to come out.
"Come on." He took Dorian's shaking hand.
"Come where?" The immortal asked incredulously. "I can tell you right now that I'm not going anywhere."
"You're right. About now, you probably don't feel too up to walking. Okay."
It all happened so fast, and Dorian was so stunned, that he didn't even notice what was happening until they were almost at his door. Sawyer had put one arm behind his knees and the other behind his back. Adding to his already offset sense of balance, Dorian felt the room spin and suddenly he wasn't on his feet anymore. He was being carried. Carried in the arms of the American, in a style as if he were the other man's bride.
Then all time returned to Dorian. "What are you doing? Put me down this very moment, Sawyer!" They passed the entryway to the immortal's room and he grasped onto the doorframe. "I am not going to let you carry me like this to God knows where. Set me down now!"
It was Dorian's current frailty that was his undoing. His arms quickly gave way to Tom's strength and he was pulled off the doorway. He continued yelling obscene warnings and threats through the halls, with no results. Every corner they turned, every opened door they passed, Dorian tried to stake a hold and halt their progress.
He only slowed in his endeavors when his eyes caught a familiar face nearing the end of the hall. It was Mina. No, not Mina.
"Sawyer, listen to me. If you do not turn around and return me to my room this very instant, comrade or not, I will take utter delight in ensuring your demise."
It was true that Tom was helping Dorian with his sickness. Unfortunately, for the immortal, it was also true that the gunman still did not like him. "I'm sorry, did you say somethin'?"
The workings of Dorian's mind quickly slipped from Mina seeing him in such a state. In that moment a door to their right opened and a white face collided with them.
"Sorry Sawyer." There was a pause in Skinner's voice and then amusement. "Oh, hello Dorian. I dare say you look bloody awful. That's weird. You know, if I had someone to carry me 'bout the ship, I'd be more than a little giggly."
"It's against my will I assure you," Dorian stated irritably.
The pale face contorted into confusion before his features developed an expression of deviousness. "Oh, I get it. So, dear Tom here has kidnapped you. Well then, have fun playing your games. Don't let me get in your way." Skinner left them standing there. The words, "Ah youth. And here I was thinking they both fancied Mina," disappeared around the corner with him.
Dorian himself was invulnerable Skinner's particular brand of embarrassment. He looked up into Sawyer's face though and saw that the boy was not. There was a deep red that rushed over stunned eyes and met blond hair. The boy was utterly abashed at Skinner's words.
The immortal longed in everyway to make it worse for Tom. However, at that moment the ship rocked. Nothing much, only enough so that it hit Dorian's stomach directly. His hand shot to his mouth. Tom noticed and took off at a brisk pace.
Dorian tried to focus his thoughts on not retching there in the hall. Sawyer dashing so fast, and chaotically turning corners, was almost enough to make him though. Dorian was sure he saw Mina at one point but was beyond caring. He closed his eyes tight and took deep breaths.
"Here we are." The immortal felt his balance challenged and his feet touched solid ground. "Hold on." Hands traced over his own and made him take hold of an icy, smooth handrail. They were on the deck. The wind that blew and gently hit his face affirmed as much.
Dark eyes opened hesitantly and beheld visions of orange and pink as they tainted the blue below them. A sunset.
"Fresh air always helps." The boy explained to him. "Try and focus on the horizon, ignore the rocking of the ship."
Dorian took deep breathes into his chest. He watched scattered clouds of pastel colors and waves of a similar tone.
Moments went by. Dorian didn't want to give Sawyer the satisfaction of knowing that his method was actually helping, so they stood in silence. He remotely felt the American's hand on his back, probably to make certain he didn't fall.
Time passed. The pinks of the sky gave way to the orange, the orange to a dark blue. Stars dotted the sky, and the wind on their faces turned to a cooler air.
"Why are we here?" Dorian's question came accidentally, his mouth more curious than his mind wanted it to be.
"I told you. A wind and a horizon are the best cures for the shakin' of the sea." Tom finally released his hand from the other man's back, content that he could hold his own.
"That's not what I meant, and I'm fairly sure you know it."
"If you want honesty, all I can tell you is I don't know, considering that I'm more than a little convinced that I don't like you." Tom turned his head and saw that Dorian was staring back at him. "Is it that weird for someone to help you out?"
Dorian's voice caught in his throat and escaped in a sigh. "Let's just say that the world has long since been absent of those that care for my well-being. Whether by my own hands or those of time, they all became nothing more than dark memories in my mind."
"That's a terrible life to live. Can't say that I'd want it even for the immortality."
"Yes, well, I've learned to adapt to not caring for or needing others."
Tom shook his head, his eyes became downcast with sorrow. "And that…is why I don't like you. Your complete disregard for others. People weren't meant to be alone. It turns them into heartless devils. They'll betray a person for their own ends. Won't except help from another, even if they're locked in the bath, too stubborn to go to one of the doctors on the ship." Tom released Dorian from his gaze and looked back onto the ocean. "I won't tell you how to live your life, you're got enough experience. All I'll say is that I pity you."
Dorian looked to sky, sure that the boy had no idea how accurate his words were, or how close to the truth they had hit. He had no idea of the explosives residing in his cabin, waiting to be put in place. No idea of the case in which he already carried the secret of a member.
"I don't need your pity."
"I know. You don't need anything from anyone." Sawyer pushed off the banister and took hold of Dorian's arm. "Come on. You should probably drink some more. Maybe something a little stronger than water to help you sleep."
"Fine, but I'm walking this time." Dorian shrugged off Tom's hand.
"Alright by me. You're a lot heavier than you look." Tom opened the door to below, allowing Dorian passage through first. "Oh, by the way," he said as the immortal walked by, "I'd probably pay a king's ransom to see the look on Mrs. Harker's face again. You, grabbin' onto my shirt, breathing hard and squintin' yer eyes together, and Mrs. Harker with a look full of confusion and amusement. I'd give just about anything."
"I'm not one for repeat performances," Dorian said, a tint of crimson upon his cheeks.
The walk to Dorian's room was slow, more because he was tired than dizzy now. He hoped in vain that Tom would leave the instant his door came into site, but he didn't. They had a drink, even though the immortal complained about, "wasting good drink on less than acceptable company." The warmth of alcohol instantly comforted Dorian's stomach. Tom even waited until Dorian agreed finally to go to bed, turning out the lamp on his way to the door.
"Thank you." Tom stopped in the doorway, and Dorian had to admit to himself that the words sounded improper on his lips. He had to say them again though, to make sure he had actually done it. "Thank you for what you did. You…didn't have to."
"Yeah, don't uh, worry about it. Nothing better to do on this ship. Besides, it was well worth it to see Mrs. Harker's face."
"And it was well worth being so roughly manhandled through the halls in order to see your face after our run-in with Skinner."
"Good night, Gray." Tom closed the door and dark eyes were encased within the darkness.
Dorian pulled the covers around himself. "Good night, Sawyer."