Ugh, it's really late, or really early. Insomnia is going to be the death of me—but in the meantime, I'm posting this chapter. I figure it counts, because it's technically Friday.
When I wrote this chapter, it was 34 degrees outside. While I was writing about December. It felt really weird; the contradiction was incredible! I long for a cold night…
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended in my use of the BBC's Robin Hood characters. Or in my use of WWII. Or Christmas. Small bits of the dialogue in this chapter (you'll know it when you see it) is recycled from the show, and I don't own it, either.
0…0…0…0…0
o…o
December, 1940
Her third winter in Nottingham wasn't any better than the first. She was still cold and miserable, and put up with a great deal of teasing from her friends over her dislike of the weather.
She was relieved at how little had really changed between the three of them—except for pronouns. Allan started flirting with her a bit; at first she wasn't too keen on it, but it grew on her. She supposed it was his way of acknowledging her sex the only way he knew how. It wasn't so bad, though. Having not had much of an opportunity in her life to be a girl, it was sort of fun to flirt right back at him. Although, at sixteen, perhaps she was a little late in starting.
Even Will kept mostly the same towards her, even though she knew that he felt something a little more than friendship for her. He never acted on it, never made her feel uncomfortable. In truth, she hadn't really expected him to—that just wasn't the way he was. It was almost as if he was letting her get used to the idea just as she was letting her friends get used to her identity. Either that, or he was absolutely terrified, which was also equally plausible.
The war was still in motion, and going badly. Luftwaffe—the German Air Force—was constantly flying in and dropping bombs on the country in massive air raid attacks. London was a pile of rocks on top of a slightly larger pile of rubble. People were fleeing heavily populated cities to come to more rural areas, making the locals of those areas fear that with the sudden onslaught of people, they would be the next targets.
Marian and Robin—being Marian and Robin—went to volunteer for weeks on end in the more heavily hit areas of London. As a nurse, Marian's presence was probably more helpful than Robin's was; though he did have money and resources, and his own way of helping people. He was eager, and strong—and that was all they needed.
It was Christmas time, but people were hardly in good morale. It was hard to be cheerful while packing food, water, and supplies into bomb shelters and wearing those hideous-looking gas masks and waiting on pins and needles for the next air raid. Nobody knew when or where the next hit would be.
Perhaps it was because of this that Robin announced, upon returning from London with Marian a week before, that he was going to throw a Christmas party. To lighten everybody's spirits, she supposed.
They certainly needed it.
Djaq sat quietly at the counter in the restaurant, a pile of receipts and billpads scattered around her lunch plate. She was eating with one hand and adding up totals with the other, only occasionally mixing up her fork with her pen.
"Much, what is this?" She asked, waving a piece of paper in front of the kitchen opening.
The man appeared, wiping his hands on a dishcloth.
"You can tell what it is, can't you?" He growled at her. "It's a receipt."
"What is it for? I cannot read it."
He snatched it away from her with his familiar grumpy expression. "Sales figures from last week when I re-ordered," he grunted, handing it back. "Why'd you have to ask me?"
She took the paper back and sighed. "I cannot always read your handwriting, Much. It is all smudged and sloppy—like somebody smashed a spider on your pad."
"It isn't my fault! I'm left-handed and the ink smudges!"
"Whatever you say," she said with a shake of her head.
"You shouldn't antagonize your boss," Allan said behind her. When she turned around, he winked at her.
"I can hardly help it. He makes it so easy. And anyway, he will not do anything."
"That's 'cos you're so cute he can't bring himself to yell at you."
"Or maybe he knows that I am good at what I do. And that if I were not here, he would have to trust your maths."
"You can't ever let a compliment go unchallenged, can you?"
"Not from you."
He chuckled, and as he walked past her to go back to work, he pushed her hair forward; she glared at his back as he walked away.
She took her time finishing up her lunch and work. Her shift was over and she didn't have anywhere else to go after this. The days had fallen into a pattern for her. She woke up early and tended the garden and the horses and the other animals that Robin kept; if she was working the lunch shift that day, she'd go back to bed for an hour or so before going to work. When she was on the dinner shift—or not working at all—she had to find something to do with her afternoons until Will was out of school or until Allan was off of work.
Robin had fewer and fewer horses, and more and more farm animals. Now, in addition to chickens and two goats, she was also taking care of some ducks, and the vegetable garden—which was fine, because only seven horses remained and her original job had greatly diminished. She was still tutoring Luke in mathematics when he needed, and picked up another job with little John Little. Allan was decent enough to keep his flirting in check when they happened to be in the Little's house at the same time.
Both he and Will respected her request not to tell anybody else about her identity, and just let her ease back into being a girl. She'd stopped wearing the bandage to bind her breasts, on the theory that it was winter and nobody would be the wiser while she was in her heavy clothes—and, she reminded herself a little bitterly, she didn't have a great deal to strap down. She hadn't cut her hair since August, either, and it feathered around her face as it hadn't done in years.
It felt kind of good, actually.
"You know, I think he likes you."
She turned to see Much hanging out of the kitchen again; he was one of the other people who'd come to know her true sex.
"Allan? No, we are just friends."
"With all that flirting?"
"He flirts with everybody. He does not mean anything by it."
"Uh-huh."
She ignored him and went back to the columns of numbers. Once she finished, she gathered up all of the receipts and billpads and left them in his office. Then she hefted her knapsack onto her shoulder—she kept her restaurant clothes in there, so as not to get them dirty on the way home—and bid goodbye to her co-workers before bundling up in her coat and heading out.
A blast of cold air whipped her face as soon as she walked out the door, and she pulled the collar of her coat up around her ears and jammed her hands down in her pockets. She walked past two men putting up a garland around one of the sirens anchored on a street lamp, in an effort to make a reminder of the war look a little more cheery. Those sirens blared a horrible wailing noise to warn everybody in the area of an air raid and signal them to hurry to the nearest shelter. Every town had them, though Djaq wasn't really sure they were necessary—maybe only four or five were needed for all of England, as she imagined the sound could probably be heard as far away as Norway.
The scene around her looked little like those idealized paintings and postcards she'd become accustomed to seeing around this time of year—the ones that showed people bundled tightly in bright red coats, walking hand-in-hand through powdery snow against a backdrop of buildings, each one with glowing yellow windows and wearing a jolly little snow hat. Nothing really looked like that. It snowed a few days ago here, but it'd since melted and all that remained of it was soggy piles of gray-yellow slush.
Hardly charming.
She felt a folded piece of card in her pocket and for a second she couldn't remember what it was, until she pulled it out and had a look at it. The fancy invitation was written in lacy script and embellished with little line-drawings of holly and poinsettias.
An invitation to Robin's Christmas party.
She hadn't really expected to be invited—partially because she wasn't a Christian, and partially because Robin must've known she would turn the invite down automatically. On the other hand, it was nice that he'd thought of her. But she'd have to inform him that she wouldn't be coming. She knew she'd feel hopelessly out of place at a fancy 'do like that.
She stepped out across the road quickly, barely missing being clipped by a passing car. She turned around and yelled a few choice insults in Arabic before hopping up onto the pavement and rooting around in her pockets for some pennies for bus fare.
Most of the time, she preferred to save her money and walk home instead of taking the bus, but not today. It was miserable enough to warrant the ride. She flagged one down as it passed as she counted out the change in her hand. There were only a dozen or so other passengers, mostly ladies with their shopping and their children too young to be in school; a few of them nodded hello to her as she boarded and took a seat near the middle.
The bus rumbled off again in a cloud of white smoke. Djaq leaned her head back against her seat and hugged her knapsack to her chest as she stared blankly out the window. Every building was decorated with garlands and wreaths and little Christmassy posters, and children were starting to talk about Father Christmas.
She'd never understood the Western fascination with this holiday—she hardly even understood the holiday itself. What did evergreens, sweets, and a fat man in a red suit have to do with the birth of the Prophet Yeshuah? It all seemed very strange to her. She mostly attributed it to the fact that she didn't share their faith, but despite this, the spirit of the holiday was growing on her. Peace on earth and goodwill to mankind were good sentiments to have, weren't they? Especially these days. And anything that stopped the fighting for a few days—the annual Christmas truce—had to be a good thing.
She felt a pang in her chest as she thought about the war. No end was anywhere in sight, and the German Army seemed unstoppable. Allan was talking a great deal about joining the army with Will, and the thought of this terrified her. The countdown to Will's eighteenth birthday was three months—three months until he could enlist. Three months until he—until both of them—could go to war. She desperately didn't want to think about what would happen if her friends went to Europe… and never came back. As much as she hated to think of it, she knew it was a distinct possibility.
She shivered in her seat and tugged absently at the fibres of her coat.
What terrible thoughts to have.
The gentle rumbling and rocking motion of the bus lulled her into a half-sleep as her thoughts wandered. She wondered if Allan and Will were going to this party. They probably would, if they'd been invited. Or at least Allan would. He would never pass up the opportunity to cavort with pretty girls in their nicest clothes. Of course he'd go. Will might not be very keen on the idea, though—she'd never known him to be terribly comfortable in crowds and he might not enjoy such a big party. Maybe if he didn't go, the two of them could go to the cinema or something. She'd get some time alone with him, which she hadn't gotten much of lately.
As the bus turned a corner, she smacked her head into the window next to her and snapped out of her thoughts. She recognized this street—in a few minutes she'd have to get off and walk the rest of the way.
The bus hissed to a stop on the corner, and Djaq exited, bundling herself back into her coat and walking the well-known route towards Robin's.
Instead of going down the hill towards the stables, she made her way up the long front garden path to the front door, hoping to talk to him so that she could properly decline the invitation. May as well get it done as soon as possible. She rang the doorbell and waited.
To her surprise, Marian answered.
"Oh, hello, Djaq," she said cheerily.
For a split second, she wondered if she hadn't gone to the wrong place. "I fell asleep on the bus—I did come to the right house, yes?"
"Of course you did."
"So Robin has you answering his front door, now?"
"No, he hasn't. I was already up. Come in," she stepped to the side, allowing the younger girl to walk indoors out of the cold. "I take it you need to see Robin?"
"Yes, please. I wanted to answer his invitation. I do not have a telephone, and it is silly to post a letter that is only going as far as up the hill."
"Certainly," she replied, grinning in a rather silly way. Her cheeks were all rosy, and Djaq found herself wondering what she might have interrupted. "Robin!" She called.
He responded quickly, coming through an arched doorway with an equally silly grin on his face and those big blue eyes glinting. Dimly—erroneously—she thought to herself that, as handsome as Robin Locksley was, he couldn't hold a candle to Will Scarlett.
"Yes, my love?" It was clear he didn't notice that she was there.
Marian nodded her head towards Djaq; he looked over at her.
"Ah, hello there. Did you need something?"
For a second, she looked back and forth between them, once again wondering what she interrupted. Then she remembered what she came for; she pulled the invitation from her pocket.
"I am afraid I will not be able to come to your Christmas party," she said. "But thank you for the invitation."
"Well, I'm sorry to hear that," he answered, patting her shoulder.
"Why not, Djaq?" Marian asked. "It'll be fun."
She sighed. "No, thank you. I would feel out of place. And besides—would I attend as a boy, or as a girl?"
"I suppose you have a point," she sighed. "But you might be disappointing your friends."
She shrugged. "I doubt it. They will survive if they go to a party and I am not there."
"Pity, that," she replied.
Robin whispered something in her ear and then turned back to Djaq. "It's your decision. Thank you for telling me. Would you like a cup of tea before you go?"
Marian's gaze flickered.
"Thank you, but no," she said, knowing that she risked Marian's wrath if she accepted this offer and hung about any longer. "I would rather go home and finish reading Ten Little Indians." She nodded respectfully to either of them.
She let herself out and let them get back to… whatever they were doing. Had it been any other set of adults, she might have thought the answer was obvious. But Robin Locksley and Marian Knighton were a very, very odd couple indeed. They could have been doing absolutely anything.
Halfway down the stone path, she cut across the garden, now gray and brown and lifeless in winter. It was the quickest way to get from the house to the stables, without going back up to the road and taking that awful hill.
The barnyard was slick and muddy, even despite the liberal coating of straw she put down—she'd hoped it was going to soak up the wet and make walking in the mud easier, but it didn't work.
Upon arriving home, she dropped her bag on a chair, took off her boots, and stripped off her dirty overalls. She didn't even bother putting anything else on her lower half—she just wrapped herself in a blanket and snuggled down in bed with her book.
She didn't know when she'd fallen asleep, but she must have done so because the next thing she was aware of was a knocking at her door.
She groaned softly and sat up.
"Who's there?"
"It's Will."
Immediately, she jumped out of bed and made a dive for the door. She nearly opened it before she remembered she was half undressed and should probably put some clothes on.
"Just a moment!" She called as she bumbled clumsily around.
She turned a light on with one hand and groped around the floor for something to wear with the other; she settled on yesterday's overalls, buttoning them at the waist and letting the back and bib hang down. That done, she stumbled over to the front door, kicking her muddy clothes out of the way so neither of them would trip over them.
"I am sorry about that," she apologized as she let him in. She felt a bit nervous all of a sudden. "I am a little sluggish."
"You look like you just got up," the young man said as he stepped inside.
"Because I did."
His eyes widened and he looked guilty. "I didn't mean to—"
"It is all right. I would have been up all night if you had not woken me."
"Oh… right."
They stood facing one another, each of them fidgeting bashfully. She tangled her hands in the loose bib of her overalls; he looked away with a nervous smile and casually rubbed his neck. His cheeks were rosy pink from his walk outside in the cold and Djaq thought it made him look sweetly lovely.
She figured he must have come to see her for something and just needed a nudge in the right direction.
"So, did you…?"
"Yes! Oh—that, yes," he stuttered. Then he looked like he'd suddenly remembered something. "Luke's been having trouble in maths again, and my Dad wanted to know if you could come and help him over the school holiday, so he could be prepared for the next term."
"That will be no trouble," she replied, feeling her chest fall a bit. What was that about—she hadn't been expecting anything, had she? "But why did you come all the way out here yourself? You could have phoned."
"You haven't got a telephone."
"Robin does. It would be easier for him to walk a message over than for you to come all this way."
"Well, I also wanted to, um… to ask you something."
"What about?"
"Did you get your invitation to Robin's Christmas party?"
She nodded.
His ears were bright red. "Are you going to go?"
Her heart skipped a beat. "No, I am not. I have just been to see Robin and told him."
"Oh…"
"Why?"
"I wanted—I'd hoped you might come with me." The red was spreading from his ears into the rest of his face.
Once again, she found herself very grateful that her dark complexion kept her embarrassment from being visible to him.
"I do not think I can go, though," she reminded him. "I have already said I was not attending."
"My invitation says 'plus one'," he quickly replied. "You can still come. As my… date."
The red in his face was so intense, she thought he'd glow in the dark.
"I thought Allan said that he was finding a girl for you to take," she said, unsure why she was bringing it up.
"He offered, yeah," he said with a nod. "But, I… I didn't want to. I'd really like it to be you."
She wanted to say yes, but it would be for some silly reasons. Just to spend time with him, have him to herself. Not terribly good reasons to go to a party she'd already turned down.
"I am not Christian. I would be terribly out of place."
"When Robin throws parties like this, they're less about religion and more about sociable eating in bulk."
She snorted.
"Please?"
The word "yes" was on her lips but she couldn't make herself say it. But, really, what was she afraid of? Many people already knew of her gender, and hiding it was no long a matter of life and death. It really didn't seem like such a bad idea, after all…
She looked down at her well-loved and worn clothing. She didn't really have much—a few sets of overalls and some nicer clothes to wear when she worked in the restaurant. It never seemed practical for her to have much clothing, and particularly not clothes for a girl. She was supposed to be hiding her gender, not flaunting it.
That was another thing—why was she nearly ready to take this chance just for one evening? It hardly seemed worth it. Even though there was no need to hide her sex anymore, she still didn't feel comfortable flaunting her femininity the way other women did. Largely because she wasn't secure in her femininity. And yet…
"You don't have to come if you don't want to," he assured after a silence, trying unsuccessfully to disguise the defeated tone in his voice. "I just… thought I'd ask."
"I do not have a dress," she said quietly.
"Pardon?"
"This will sound terribly girlish. I would like to go with you, but—I honestly haven't a thing to wear," she said, gesturing towards her clothes. "Unless I am allowed to go in overalls, in which case I might look quite out of place."
He thought for a moment, one thumbnail idly in his mouth. "I could g—"
"Do not spend money on me, Will Scarlett!"
"How'd you know I was going to say that?"
"Because I know you."
"Then what d'you suppose we do?"
She chewed her lower lip; he watched her intently, unblinking.
"You should still go," she said. "If you want to. But I think perhaps it would be better if I did not. But thank you. For asking."
She clasped her hands tightly in front of her and didn't look at him, giving him the opportunity to leave. When she did look up, she was surprised to see a small smile on his lips.
"You said you'd like to come with me," he said.
"Yes, I did. I would, but I do not think I can manage it."
His smile was wider, now. "But if you did have a dress, you'd come?"
"If you spend money that you do not have, I shall hit you!"
He winced; he knew that Djaq had a mean punch. "All right, all right—I won't."
She crossed her arms over her chest. "It is not anything personal," she assured him.
"I know." He shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled a foot on the floor. "I should go. I told Dad I wouldn't be long—I'll let him know about Luke."
She showed him out, feeling guilty as she watched him through her front window. She knew it wasn't a good idea, for all the reasons she'd already given Will—but she still felt badly about having to turn him down.
Maybe she'd ask him to the cinema. Her treat.
o…o
Djaq decided that the sky had absolutely no business being quite this bright and clear in December, to fool her into thinking it was going to be a nice day only to shock her with that jarring cold air the second she stepped outside. She hated it. Such deception should have been illegal.
She'd spoken to Will the previous afternoon, and apologized again for turning him down for the party; he shrugged it off and told her that it was no big deal. But she wasn't sure she believed that. It must have taken him a long time to work up the courage it would have taken him to ask her. She'd even gone through her bank account to see if she could spare the money to buy a dress, but she thought the better of it. Cloth was scarce and expensive, and she simply couldn't merit spending money on a dress that she would only get one turn out of—even for Will Scarlett.
But she still felt badly.
She walked from the house back to the stables, carrying a basket with three eggs in it on her hip—two chicken eggs and a duck egg that Robin let her keep from this morning's egg haul. Certainly better than her one-egg-a-week ration.
She opened the door and set the basket down on her table, then turned around and nearly jumped up through the ceiling, voicing her displeasure loudly in her native tongue, when she saw Marian sitting in one of her plush chairs.
"Goodness, Djaq," the woman said with an amused expression. "I gave you a bit of a fright, didn't I?"
"Just a bit," she panted, a hand pressed to her chest. She had to see about getting a lock for that door. "Why are you here?"
"I thought we might have a chat," she said. "Come, have a seat."
"I have to be invited to sit in my own home?" The girl asked sarcastically, even as she took a seat in the other chair. "What did you want to talk about?"
"Actually," she reached behind the chair and pulled out a brown paper bag. "I have something for you."
"What—?"
"I was going through a closet and I found some of my old things," she explained. "I saw this, and I thought of you."
Frowning, Djaq reached for the offered parcel and reached inside; her fingers brushed a smooth fabric. She pulled it from the bag and saw the light pink satiny material. A dress.
"Marian…"
"I've had it for years, but I never wore it much. I thought you might get some use out of it."
"What makes you think that I would need a dress?" She asked suspiciously.
"Let's just say I heard that this was the only thing standing between you and a night of being an actual girl."
"Who told you?"
"Does it matter?"
Dark eyes narrowed, and then she sighed. "I suppose not."
She took the dress out of the bag and took a proper look at it. It was very pretty…
"So, I take it this means you're going?"
"I do not—"
"Come on."
"Why do you have the urge to help me?"
"Because I like you, Djaq," she said with a soft smile.
"Am I both the brother and sister that you never had?"
"Something like that. Call me a sissy for a good love story."
Her face burned. "It is not a love story," she insisted quickly.
"Not yet, maybe."
The eve of the party found her at Marian's house, the dress bundled in her arms and a pair of new shoes in her hand. She'd already informed the young woman that Will was instructed to pick her up at her house, so that he "won't have to walk down that awful muddy hill!" She'd insisted on helping her get ready for the party, very much like she imagined a big sister would. Marian even paid for the shoes, despite her protests.
She stood on the doorstep, dressed as she always was in her overalls and big woolly green coat and red trainers.
Marian answered the door with her hair wrapped, wearing a dressing gown. Djaq wondered if she knew how ridiculous she looked like that.
"Come in, come in," she ushered the girl inside with a hand over her shoulder.
"Why did you want me here so early?" She asked as she toed off her shoes.
"It takes a lady a while to get ready."
"Will I really need three hours?"
"Well, I figured you'd need some… advice."
Djaq's eyebrows shot up. "What sort of advice?"
"Have you ever done this before? It is a date, you know."
"But it is only Will."
"But it's a date."
The lack of any glimmer of recognition in the teenager's face gave her away.
"All right, we'll chat while we get ready—go on upstairs, there's a bath all ready for you."
She trotted upstairs, knowing better than to argue with her.
Even though she was completely unused to behaving like a girl, she found the evening sort of… fun. In a novel kind of way. She didn't expect she'd be doing this again, so she might as well enjoy it. Marian fed her after her bath—just some toast and honey, as Robin had already arranged for there to be food at the party.
Getting into the dress was difficult; she had to navigate a slip and suspenders, a task she had never undertaken before. She wondered how women did this all the time. Her friend was very patient, enduring her inexperience and her bumbling clumsiness on the new shoes and putting various cosmetics on her flinching face. She even clipped a slide into her too-short hair. The next time Djaq looked into the mirror, the tomboyish stablehand in overalls was nowhere to be found.
The dress came off her shoulders and the full skirt stopped below her knee, a style that came into fashion years ago; the little rosette in her hair matched the pink dress, as did a little pink ribbon tied about her neck. She felt positively adult dressed like this.
"You look lovely," Marian beamed.
"I look like a grown-up," she breathed.
"You certainly do."
She turned and caught sight of Marian in her long red dress and pearls and beautifully made-up hair and face, and sighed. Marian was uncommonly lovely; she could never compare to that.
"What now?" She asked.
"Wait for him to come and collect you. Don't worry, I'll stay here until he comes."
"Robin is not coming for you? I thought that was good manners…"
"The host can hardly just leave the party, can he?"
"Oh." She shifted her weight from foot to foot, feeling very jittery all of a sudden. She shouldn't have been—it was only Will, after all, as she'd kept telling Marian whenever she got a bit silly.
"You're not losing your nerve, are you?"
"I hope not."
It wasn't "just" Will, though. It was someone she liked; someone who fancied her. This was going to be the first time that he'd see her so obviously female, apart from that accidental glimpse months ago. She wasn't sure what would happen. Against her will, a storm of anticipatory butterflies erupted in her stomach as her mind raced through the possibilities.
A knock at the door made her heart leap from her chest to her throat, and blood rush in her ears.
"I'll get that, shall I?"
All she could do was nod dumbly.
"Stand here," Marian ordered, taking her by the shoulders and steering her around to the front hallway, several feet back from the door. "Not like you're standing in overalls—like a lady! And try not to look so terrified."
"I was not aware this needed to be choreographed." In sarcasm she found a bit of comfort.
"Put this on," she said, handing her a long heavy black velvet cape.
She obeyed, knowing that Marian would absolutely forbid her from wearing her own coat because it wasn't appropriate, or formal. And it smelled faintly of hay.
Marian opened the door; Djaq looked up from the fastenings at her neck, and her heart jumped.
Will stood outside, looking approximately as nervous as she felt. He wore a long gray coat over his dark green suit; his hair was combed neatly and slicked back. He looked… very handsome, actually.
He took one look in her direction and his eyes widened.
"You look… wow…"
"He'll show you out just as soon as he can let go of the doorframe," Marian said as she walked past her, leaving the two of them alone.
"She is being awfully silly about this," Djaq murmured as she joined him out on the front step, closing the door behind her. She turned to face him and looked up at him. "Hello."
He was still looked at her with his mouth slightly agape, his breath clouding in the air between them.
"Will?"
"Sorry!"
"Are you all right?"
"Yes—I'm fine. It's just…"
She tilted her head. "What?"
Pause.
"Nothing." He offered her his arm. "Shall we go?"
"Yes, please," she said, hesitantly putting her hand on his arm. It felt strange to walk this way; she was used to keeping her hands firmly jammed in her pockets and walking at least an arm's length away from him. She noted, perhaps a little strangely, that he smelled differently than usual. He normally smelled like different types of wood, the tang of metal from the tools he used, and well-worn old clothes. Tonight, he smelled of some sort of vaguely spicy cologne. It was so different.
But hardly un-likeable.
The walk was pleasant and comfortable, but short—soon, Robin's house came into view, along with the stream of people and cars out front. She almost turned down the hill towards the stables, her body working automatically, but she managed to stop herself. It was certainly a different way of doing things—she'd never been to the house before as a guest.
He stopped walking and stared at the house, then looked down at her with those beautiful green eyes; she frowned, wondering if perhaps he was having second thoughts.
"Ready?"
She nodded quickly.
Will shifted his arm, manipulating hers until he held her hand in his, in an uncharacteristically blatant display of affection.
Djaq let him lead her by the hand through the house as she busied herself staring at the place. She'd never been beyond the front hall and, once, a sitting room. It was all very grand—nicer than any place she'd ever been in before, with huge doors and windows and covered all over in decorative wood panelling. A great big central ballroom, probably infrequently used, served as the centre of the party; garlands hung around the doorways and wreaths in the windows, sprigs of mistletoe clipped in strategic locations. Tables of food were all over the place—she wasn't quite sure how he'd gotten so much food, considering everything was so tightly rationed. But if there was one thing she'd learned over the years, it was that Robin had his way of making things happen when he wanted them to, and damned be the obstacles in the way.
There were maybe fifty or sixty guests present, of varying ages and backgrounds, some of them sitting, some standing about and talking in pairs or in small groups, and others dancing. The drink was free-flowing, the food plentiful, and the whole thing was far more relaxed and casual than she'd imagined it would have been.
Someone took their coats, and she suddenly felt very exposed in this dress. She crossed her arms over her chest and clutched her shoulders nervously. Being a girl was proving harder than she'd thought.
"Don't," he whispered, gently unfolding her arms. "You look lovely."
Her insides melted and she gave him a shaky smile; for half a second, it was just the two of them.
And then the moment, as so often happened, was ruined.
"Will! I didn't think you'd be here!"
They winced simultaneously and looked at each other, as if pleading with one another to make him go away.
Allan burst between them, throwing an arm around Will, but at least having the common decency not to muss his hair or knock him over.
"Well, I'm here, aren't I?" He replied, prying his friend's arm off. "And couldn't you behave yourself? It's supposed to be a party, you know—it would be a shame, all things considered, if you forced me to kill you."
As usual, Allan just laughed the idle threat off. He looked very much a grown man tonight, nicely groomed and in a proper suit. He grew a goatee, as well, which Will and Djaq both thought looked silly, but he maintained the delusion that facial hair would make him irresistible to the opposite sex. Difficult to believe that their immature, boyish friend was growing up—she felt like a mother hen, just then.
"You don't mean that, mate," he said jovially, a big stupid smile on his face. She wondered if he'd gotten into the drink himself. He went to sling his arm back around his friend's shoulders, but Will moved and he missed, nearly falling forward. "That wasn't nice!"
Will just rolled his eyes. "So who're you here with?" He asked. "I thought you had some girl coming with you tonight."
"Naw—thought the better of it, didn't I? If I brought a girl, I'd have to just stick with her all night. This way, I'm prepared to graze the herd." He waved an arm around the room in a dramatic sweep, and then his eyes rested on Djaq, who'd been completely unnoticed until just now. "Well, hello, there, sweet," he purred with his broadest I-will-flirt-with-you-until-you-throw-a-glass-of-water-at-me smile.
"Very funny, Allan."
A look of surprise came to his face and for the first time since she'd known him, he was stunned into silence. But it was brief.
"Djaq? Our Djaq? Good lord, I didn't recognize you like that!" He stood back and planted his hands on his hips, taking a good look at her and nodding his approval. "You oughtta dress like a girl more often."
"Oh, I do, do I?"
"Just a thought."
"Oh, yes, cocktail-length dresses are very becoming for working hip-deep in the mud. I think that was in Life magazine, with Catherine Hepburn."
He laughed. "You know, I wasn't sure it was you 'til you said that. Only my Djaq would respond to a compliment like that."
A brief, flickering spark went through Will's eyes, but it vanished just as quickly as it appeared, before she could figure out what it meant.
"So, if our carpenter friend here'll allow it—how'd you like a dance?"
Djaq wasn't entirely familiar with the rules of teenage dating and courtship, but she could at least be fairly sure that asking a friend's date for a dance was considered bad manners at best, and punishable by death and really fucking rude at worst. She resisted the urge to reach out and shove him down.
"I do not know about Will—but I doubt you would do well dancing with me," she said. "I always lead."
The side of his mouth curled up in a jaunty grin. "That's my Djaq," he beamed. He then apparently spotted somebody behind her, because he promptly excused himself to go and chat with another girl.
"He is very silly," she remarked, watching him. She turned to Will and found him glaring daggers after his friend. "Are you all right?"
"He has cheek," was all he said. If she didn't know better, she'd have thought he was actually angry.
"It is just Allan," she said quietly. "You said it yourself, he is just an idiot. He cannot help himself."
"He should."
Now it seemed like he was angry and jealous—which was very strange, in deed. The two of them were as close as brothers. The answer was somewhere in the back of her mind, tiny and persistent and irritatingly just out of reach.
"You cannot possibly be taking him seriously."
There was a long silence as he continued to stare, apparently thinking. All she could do was stand there and wait for him to come back to earth.
He sighed, then looked over at her and smiled; he held out a hand to her. "Dance with me? I won't mind if you lead."
That brief anger in his face was gone again—she thought on it for a moment and then tucked it away in her mind to think of at some other time, and forced herself to go one night without analyzing absolutely everything she saw. She took his hand, and he twirled her about effortlessly.
She shouldn't have been surprised that he was a good dancer, but somehow she was. He was agile and graceful on his feet, his calloused and work-worn hands clasping hers ever so gently. He was unsure, shy; she could feel his hand shaking at her waist, as if he was frightened to put it there. Those beautiful eyes told her that he was just as much a bundle of nerves as she was.
At first her own steps were uncertain and hesitant; she hadn't danced at all since Djaq—the real Djaq—died. He'd been her dance partner when they were younger and still learning. As she slowly re-introduced herself to it, it became easier—perhaps the only "girlish" thing she didn't find impossible to do. It was an entirely different dynamic, dancing with somebody that she…
The unmistakeable sound of somebody being slapped drew her attention, reluctantly, away from Will and towards the source of the sound: Allan, it seemed, was not as smooth as he believed himself to be. He'd said something he apparently shouldn't have, and earned a well-deserved slap. The girl was walking away to join her friends as a dozen or so people stared at him.
They looked at Allan, and then at one another, then started snorting and trying to hold back fits of giggles, effectively breaking the nervous tension between them. She rested her forehead on his shoulder; he buried his face in her hair. Both of them quaked with silent laughter at their friend's expense.
Eventually, they had to stand off to the side, as they'd stopped dancing in order to stand there laughing at him. They leaned on the wall and laughed until their stomachs ached.
"It was not… even all that funny," she managed to choke out between giggles.
He was having an equally hard time speaking. "No, it wasn't."
"Then why are we laughing?"
"I have no idea," he squeaked before dissolving again in laughter.
They finally calmed down enough to stop laughing, and stood catching their breath. She looked up at him, smiling more than she had in ages, but when she saw his face, her breath caught in her throat. He looked… oddly intense. His cheeks were flushed, though whether it was from all the laughing, or something else, she didn't know.
And then it just—happened; she didn't realize until much later that she was the one who started it. Certainly it wasn't something she'd been thinking about at the time. The kiss shocked her—sweet and warm and utterly alien, the feel of his lips on hers sending off jolts of electricity all up and down her spine. Everything else became a vague and faraway background. It was just the two of them here.
Her hands grasped at the back of his jacket, worried that if she let go, she might fall on the floor; he kept his own hands around her arms.
She was the one to end the kiss. She backed away half a step, breathing heavily. He was standing there with his eyes closed, still trying to savour the kiss even after it had ended. She slowly reached up and pressed her fingertips to his cheek; his eyes snapped open and he caught her hand, not taking his eyes off of her. His expression looked dazed and dreamy.
"Will?"
He snapped out of his stupor and looked down at her with a huge grin on his face; his free hand touched her own face, cupping her cheek in his palm. He leaned down again, hesitantly at first, and pressed his lips against hers softly. She responded in turn, closing the space between them, bringing them once again flush against one another.
This was crazy, she thought. Here she was, standing in her employer's house at a party celebrating a holiday that she didn't even recognize, dressed like a girl for the first time in three years, kissing one of her best friends. It was ridiculous. It was absolutely outrageous!
And yet she didn't want it to end. She didn't care that anybody could see them and she didn't care how absurd it was. All she cared about was Will. Her stomach and chest fluttered happily and excitedly as his hands gently rested on her waist, as their kiss intensified.
Reluctantly, they parted, but remained close together with their foreheads touching and their arms looped around each other. They stayed like that for a long time, quietly oblivious to the scene around them.
Djaq vaguely registered a familiar song playing in the background as the knowledge of their current setting returned to her. She felt Will shift above her head, and felt his breath against her ear.
"Let's do it," he whispered along with the song playing in the background. "Let's fall in love."
"That's why birds do it,
"Bees do it,
"Even over-educated fleas do it.
"Let's do it—let's fall in love."
o…o
0…0…0…0…0
Sorry about the chapter length. It sorta got out of hand. Actually, the second half of the chapter was the first part of the story that I thought up—the part that made me really decide that I wanted to write the whole thing. Originally, my choice of songs was "L-O-V-E" by Nat King Cole, but that song wasn't written until the 60s. So I settled for Cole Porter instead.
Djaq seems a bit uncharacteristically bashful for the second part of this chapter, but I swear there's a reason for it. The Christmas party would be the first time in years that she has been so obviously a girl, and it's with somebody she doesn't even realize she fancies. That would be a pretty scary for anybody.
The Prophet Yeshuah is the name in the Islamic faith for Jesus—in both 1940 and the canon setting, she would have been aware of him and his teachings through her own religion.
Sam Troughton, the actor that plays Much, is left handed. I couldn't help but put a bit of that into this chapter. Because it's true—the ink smudges. It's my nemesis.