There was nothing quite like a quiet evening at Marlinspike Hall. Haddock sighed and settled contentedly into his armchair, puffing at his pipe, while across the rug, Tintin was likewise settled onto a worn-soft loveseat, a long put-off novel in hand and Snowy snuffling and snoring away next to him. The fire burned heartily, warding off the late October chill and warm cups of tea (one possibly just a bit spiked) were on hand, courtesy of Nestor.
It was a fine scene, Haddock decided, and he was quite pleased to sit back and enjoy it. The calm, the warmth, the cracking fire, and the sound of Tintin shrieking as he leapt from the loveseat.
His book landed on the floor, Snowy not far behind, as Tintin jumped up and down a few times and uttered a few curses Haddock was sure the boy hadn't learned from him.
"Blistering barnacles, lad, what is it?" Haddock demanded, jumping from his own seat in the time it took Tintin to practically phase across the rug to Haddock's side.
"Great sn- oh holy mother of- get it off!" Tintin exclaimed, shimmying around in one place and brushing at his clothes as though they were awash with fire ants.
"Get what off?" Haddock joined the frantic search of Tintin's person, attempting to locate whatever was causing the younger man such great distress—and it had to be one hell of a thing, Haddock was sure. He had never seen Tintin so frantic in his life. "For Godsake, Tintin, tell me what it is!"
"The spider!" Tintin shouted, finally stilling enough that his hands were no longer fingerless blurs.
"The what?" Haddock felt sure he had to have heard wrong.
"The spider, for Heaven's sake, is it still on me?" Tintin glanced down at himself once more and brushed his hands ineffectually over the front of his sweater.
Haddock knew it wasn't nice, really he did, but try as he might, he couldn't help the bark of laughter that escaped his chest. "All this," He gestured to the thrown book, Snowy lying dazed on the carpet, and then to Tintin, unable to keep from chuckling some more, "All this because of a wee spider?"
"Not a wee spider, Captain, it's a monster of a thing, it's- there!" Tintin jumped and pointed to a spot on the rug near the loveseat, "There, do you see it?"
The captain did indeed see it, and proceeded to burst into unbridled laughter. "That little beast? It's no bigger than my thumb!" He wiggled the digit at Tintin to demonstrate.
Now sure the spider was not on his person, Tintin was beginning to calm down and flush red. "Well it's much larger than I'm comfortable with, so you might just- Snowy!" Tintin shouted, thoroughly surprising the terrier, who had been sniffing interestedly at the arachnid, "Snowy, get away from that at once!"
The stern admonition only served to amuse Haddock into another bout of laughter while Tintin scowled at him. "Yes, I'm so glad you're amused. Now would you be so kind as to get rid of it?" The redhead sniffed.
"Sure, of course, I'll vanquish the little blighter," haddock chuckled.
The captain strode across the rway and put his boot down on the spider before it had the chance to skitter away. "There you are, my boy, no more spider," Haddock glanced at the underside of his shoe and grimaced, "Well, more or less."
"Thank you." Tintin sighed, a show of genuine gratitude despite the deep blush creeping down his neck.
Haddock grabbed a sheet of newspaper from the previous day's issue still sitting on a side table and used it to scrape the remains of the uninvited pest from his boot. "Don't mention it," He replied offhandedly, then paused, "On second thought, let's mention it. I had no idea you had such a fear of spiders!"
Tintin frowned. "Not a fear, Captain…"
"Oh, so shrieking and dancing about like a madman is a normal reaction to creepy-crawlies, then?" Haddock teased, balling up and tossing the paper into a waste bin.
"I didn't shriek, I…"
"Oh, that was most certainly a shriek, lad, I know one when I hear one."
Tintin huffed, crossing the room to retrieve the book he'd tossed in his fit. He patted Snowy on the head as he passed in apology for dislodging him. "I've never much liked spiders. Then there was all that business with the meteor and, well… what sort of creature needs that many legs, anyway?" He shuddered.
Haddock managed to contain his amusement, though only just, and settled into his chair again with a grin. "Of course. They've no business having so many legs." He replied jovially, "Still, you've been crawling through caves and tombs, camped out in the middle of South American jungles—how can you be afraid of spiders while you do all that?"
"Well it's one thing to encounter them in the pursuit of a story, or in a place where they're expected to turn up, but to be ambushed by one in your own home when you haven't prepared for it—to have one on you when you don't expect it—is quite another." Tintin replied archly, sittling back down with a bit of a huff.
"Of course, of course," Haddock nodded, before continuing with a sly grin, "Shall I come sit over there, then, in case of further attack?"
Tintin only glared at the pages of his book as Haddock chuckled to himself. The sailor began to relight his pipe, settling down once more, his mood lighter for the laughter, when Tintin finally replied. "Speaking of irrational behavior, Captaiin, I've heard that La Castafiore's latest tour is coming to an end. Do you suppose she'll stop by for a visit?" The young man asked genially.
Haddock nearly inhaled embers in his surprise. "Bite your tongue!"
As usual, Tintin heeded no orders. "It is so relaxing here, after all. The perfect place to stop over after a long trip, really. And she and I have been keeping up in letters, of course." Tintin continued, almost disinterestedly.
"You have not!" Haddock pointed an accusatory finger at the journalist.
"I have so. She visits the most interesting places, and tells me all about them,"
"Alright, Tintin, you've made your point…"
Tintin continued as though Haddock hadn't spoken. "And I suppose I could just mention Marlinspike in my next letter…"
"You do that and I'll never stomp another spider for you again!" Haddock threatened, brandishing his pipe like a saber.
"I'll ask Nestor to get rid of them." Tintin replied coolly, meeting Haddock's fiery expression.
The stare lasted only a few moments before Haddock snorted and burst into laughter anew at the very thought of Tintin running to Nestor to dispose of a spider. Even Tintin had to break a grin by then. "Alright, alright," Haddock conceded, "You keep that hammed-up harpy out of my hair and I'll keep any spiders out of yours. How's that?"
"Such a generous offer," Tintin mused with a small smile, "I suppose I can't refuse."
"Wonderful," Haddock turned his attention back to his pipe, "But if that operatic nightmare comes anywhere near the front gates, I'll see to it that all the arachnids in the attic find their way into your bed."
Tintin shuddered, but took no time in formulating a response. "Nonsense, Captain. You won't have enough time to do much more than make a dash for the back door before she descends upon you."
Haddock scowled and Tintin returned to his book with a satisfied smile. All was quiet for nearly half an hour before Haddock happened to glance up at his friend at an opportune moment. "Er, Tintin," Haddock began quietly.
"Hm?" The journalist hummed absently.
"You may want to, ah, move."
"Why would I want to do that?" Tintin barely glanced up from his book to pose the question.
"Well- and don't take off running at once, but- there's a spider."
Tintin looked back up at Haddock, eyebrows raised in amusement. "Is there, now?"
"Yes, right above your- What, you don't believe me?" Haddock took in Tintin's look of disbelief, somewhat affronted.
"Oh please, Captain, you won't get me that easily." The younger man laughed, staring resolutely down at the pages of his novel, "You could at least have waited a day before trying to pull something like that."
Haddock huffed, watching the leggy, brown beast that hung from a trembling thread of silk not far above Tintin's head. He glanced at Snowy briefly, who had been watching the same thing from the floor. The look on the dog's face seemed to say, Oh, let him find out on his own.
Fair enough, Haddock decided, and settled back with his pipe while he waited for the other eight shoes to drop and for the ordeal to start anew.