The actor who played Ashok joked about how he and Gemma would end up together and thus this fic was born. I know nothing about the opera but I know these two would be cute. I took some creative liberties. The title comes from Riptide by Vance Joy.
It's not that Ashok isn't a ladies man. He just happens to be shit at finding things to say to them. He's also noticed that the prettier the girl the worse the first problem is. And sure, he may be a bit of a geek but he's positive his winning good looks cancel that out. He likes to think of himself as a total catch. He's just waiting for the right person and the right moment to come along. And then he literally runs into one.
"Sorry, I wasn't looking- Gemma?"
She's too busy making sure she hasn't dropped anything. The older man she's with casts Ashok an annoyed look. But then she looks up and the surprise is evident on her face.
"Ashok, what on earth are you doing here?" She hugs him with more friendliness than she's ever given him and turns to the man. Her look is pointed. "Goodnight, Winston."
He shuffles off and glares once more. "Sorry, did I interrupt?"
"God no, Winston doesn't seem to understand the meaning of no. And he has wandering hands, so thanks for the save." She sneers a bit and gives Ashok a once over. "Really though, what are you doing here?"
It's a fair question, these things aren't his usual haunt. "My parents are sponsors of the opera, they needed to send someone. Why are you here?"
She rolls her eyes and sips on her champagne. "Oh you know, we Kensingtons are patrons of the arts."
"It's still Kensington?" He speaks before he thinks and instantly regrets it. "Sorry, I forgot."
Gemma seems unbothered by the question, and if she is she's good at hiding it. "Don't be. We got engaged too soon and he was more focused on his app than he was me. But my naked selfies are now deleted from the cloud, I'll take what I can get."
It's at the mention of her selfies that his mouth go dry and he realizes who he's talking to. Gemma had always seemed to tolerate him when he was around, but it was no secret that she found him irritating at best. She was cold as hell and sometimes he wondered if she was rude just because she could be. But she also happens to be one of the most gorgeous women he's ever met. He doesn't even notice Gemma's speaking to him until she snaps her fingers in front of his face.
"My eyes are up here, Shok."
"Sorry, uh, what were you saying?"
"I was asking how you were. I haven't seen you in a while."
He fiddles with his cufflinks and shrugs. "Can't complain. My father's been grooming me to take over the company. But this is my last event for the year before he and my mum leave London for the winter. Other than that everything's the same, go to a club here go to polo matches there. You?"
"Oh you know, fashion week here, fashion week there. My parents have been sending me to galas and ballets. A quick trip to look at the diamond mines." Gemma places her empty champagne flute on a passing tray and waves her hand as if she's tired of the whole scene. "I can be groomed too you know."
The sentence strikes him as ridiculous because Gemma seems like she's never needed to be polished a day in her life. There's something about her that so effortless. She doesn't try to be clever, she doesn't try to be interesting and she certainly doesn't try to be attractive. She just is and always has been.
"I'm sure you'll be better at being in charge than I am." He admits as he looks down at his glass. "I'm shit in high-pressure situations."
She actually laughs and he's positive it's with him and not at him. "You're not wrong. But I'm sure you'll learn, you're smarter than you look."
"Uh, thanks?"
Gemma seems to remember where they are and takes his arm. "I'm supposed to be bidding on items. Come with me. Winston's not afraid to come up from behind."
Before he can object he's following her through the crowd. She reaches past him to grab a fresh drink, he's trailing behind her. She's clearly comfortable and Ashok hopes some of it rubs off on him. He's never felt more out of place, which is saying a lot. Glass cases are lined up through the hall and she peers into each one. Some are taller than she is and the mannequins inside wear exquisite gowns. Some contain playbills from the last century that look frail and yellowed. There's page after page of ink-stained sheet music. Each looks older than the last. She stops short when she sees what looks like a poorly drawn cartoon. The paper is wrinkled and clearly ancient.
"It's an original caricature of Margherita Durastanti." She sounds awed as she bends over, squinting a bit. "Agrippina is one of my favorites. Wouldn't you agree?"
The title rolls off Gemma's tongue flawlessly because of course, it does. Ashok has to admit that he's out of his depth here. He can count the number of times he's been to the opera and enjoyed it on one hand. And if he's being honest they all kind of blur together. His mother always is moved to tears and his father elbows him to sit up straight in case people are looking at their family box.
"Fascinating." He looks at the card trying to find something to say about the piece. "1709, that's something."
Gemma bids on the item and moves to the next case. She is overjoyed when she sees the poster a few moments later.
"La bohème. It's one of my sister's favorites. A bit basic if you ask me but this would be perfect. And just the right thing for the family to bid on."
Ashok doesn't see what's so special about the poster. Sure it's kind of cool but he also thinks that if he were to tap on the glass it would turn to dust. He's not a brute or anything. He enjoys the symphony and the occasional play but he's grateful that he lives in the 21st century. The options for entertainment are much larger. But he smiles when Gemma places her bid. He doesn't think he's ever seen her do something nice for someone else.
"Aren't you going to bid on something?"
He looks around, there's nothing he really wants and he's sure his parents will only display whatever he chooses when guests come over. A pair of opera glasses catch his eye and when he reads the card he laughs.
"Look, these were Prince Albert's. You think Liam would be annoyed if I bought his great, great whatever's glasses?"
When she doesn't laugh he turns and sees a sour look on her face. And then he remembers and he wants to hit himself.
"Shit, Gem. I'm sorry."
There he goes again, putting his foot in his mouth. He could kick himself for forgetting so easily. It always happens when he's with a girl, he says something stupid just when it's going well. For a moment she looks vulnerable, it's something he had never seen from her before.
"How was the wedding?" She asks wryly after a long sip of champagne. "Naturally, I wasn't invited."
He thinks of the lavish affair that happened a few months ago. He was the best man. He thinks of how he's never seen Liam look so happy when Kathryn walked down the aisle. He thinks of how his friend had made her tear up with his vows. He can still hear the excited shake in Liam's voice when he confessed that he was going to be a father in a handful of months. He had hearts in his eyes and a grin on his face the whole reception.
But he decides not to tell Gemma any of that.
"Uh, it was nice. She's a really great girl."
"And pregnant before the wedding. The palace must know she looks further along than they say she is. Why else did they get married so quickly?" She says icily as she turns up her nose. "Leave it to Liam to knock up a commoner and have a shotgun wedding. At least she's pretty."
Ashok's not sure what to do and can sense a wall going up between them. "So are you."
She raises an eyebrow. "I know you're not saying that because you feel sorry for me."
"Uh, no. I meant, don't be upset about it. You're great, that's all."
Gemma doesn't say anything but she walks away from the case. She's still holding onto his arm.
"What about you, Ashok? Knock up any commoners lately?"
"Ha, no. That requires getting a girl to go home with you."
She looks at him and curls her lip. "Self-pity? Seriously?"
He can't grab a glass of scotch from a waiter quick enough. "We can't all be Prince Charming."
"Clearly." Her tone is nasty enough to sting.
He sips on his drink and remembers why he and Gemma never got on in the first place. Well other than the fact that he always thought she was hot and this left him unable to form sentences most days. She could also switch from hot to cold in seconds. He had seen it and heard about it from Liam time and time again.
"I should bid on something." He says, hoping to change the subject.
"What's caught your eye?"
"How should I know? My dad said to choose something expensive and important."
She rolls her eyes. "Come on."
In the end, he bids on a pair of tickets from the first season at the theatre they're in. Gemma convinces him that you can never go wrong with the first of something. Especially when they're from 1809 and are protected by an extra glass case and velvet rope. They look frailer than any other item in the room and that's saying a lot.
When he hands over the check Gemma chuckles to herself.
"Diamonds and oil. The world can't live without them or our donations. We do zero of the work to produce the goods but reap the benefits."
It's more insight than he's used to hearing from her but he clinks his glass to hers. "I'll toast to that."
The lights flash, signaling that the show is about to begin. They both finish their drinks and Gemma delicately wipes the corners of her mouth.
"This has been—" She pauses, searching for the right words. "More enjoyable than I thought."
They walk up the grand staircase and he nods. "It was nice to see you again. And thank you for your help with the bid."
"Likewise. I can never resist a good opera. Thank you for keeping that handsy old man from feeling me up."
"Anytime." He knows it's now or never and swallows. He scuffs his shoe against the carpet and stuffs his hands in his pockets, trying to seem casual. "Maybe I could see you again, you know in case any more opera creeps get too bold."
A smirk pulls at her face. "Goodnight, Ashok."
He's grateful to be alone in the family box. No one can see him sneaking sips from a flask and licking his wounds. The opera drags on and he's sure his mother would be crying by now. But it takes a lot of effort to keep his eyes from wandering to the box on the other side of the room. He can make out the blonde hair that's swept off her neck and the glasses she's holding to her face from where he's sitting. Her lips are pursed as she concentrates on the complex singing. And he's not surprised when he sees her mouth along.
Because why wouldn't she know the words to an opera older than their great-grandparents?
Once it ends he gives a standing ovation only because it's polite. All he really wants is to go home, play video games and tell his parents he's not going to any more operas. But first, he has to see if he's won or not.
Gemma's pleased when both of her bids win and she claps excitedly. But it's not surprising she won, her family could probably open a museum with all the paintings and artifacts they own. No one wants to be known as the person that outbid a Kensington. So far the gala has raised a dizzying amount of money. It's all going to the renovations of the theatre and to the children's program here, so at least he feels like an idiot for a good cause.
His eyes are slightly glazed over as he watches one piece of history be bought after another. It's only when he hears his last name does he blink.
"This pair of historical season tickets, dating back to the first season after the 1809 reconstruction, goes to the Bachu Family."
Money isn't something that's ever discussed at these things but the digital display of funds raised jumps up by several hundred thousand once his bid is counted. It's enough to make a few patrons turn to look at his box. But that's only half of what he's focused on. Because Gemma raises a glass of champagne at him from across the theatre. And it may be the distance but he thinks she looks proud.
The auctioneer moves to the next item and his phone buzzes in his pockets.
I expect a private viewing. After all, you owe me.
When he looks up, Gemma's smirking at him. His face is suddenly twenty degrees warmer. He's grateful for the dim lights of the theatre.
I guess you did help me.
Face it, you'd be lost without me.
It doesn't take long for him to set up instructions for delivery. In a week's time, the tickets will probably be on display in his parent's study. He's already undoing his cufflinks as he walks outside to wait for his driver. The night had been more fun than he was expecting but he's ready to finish the comic he had been reading. A tap on his arm makes him turn around.
"Gemma, hey." He hopes she doesn't hear how his voice is strained.
"I'll text you about the private viewing." She says simply. "Don't think you can stand me up."
She's walking towards her car and he fumbles for words. "Wouldn't dream of it."
"Trust me, I know." She calls coyly over her shoulder and gives him a wink. "See you soon, Ashok."
And then she disappears into the backseat of the sleek car. Ashok runs a hand through his hair and lets out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding.
Maybe the opera wasn't so bad.
So can Gemshok be a thing now? I miss the Royals so much and have plenty of ideas. Maybe I'll write a part two for this? I hope you enjoyed, let me know!