Because Sam would make an incredible Mr. Darcy. Historical AU.
Samuel Evans frowned as he looked down upon the lawns of Pemberley, the gardens immaculately tailored and the rest of the grounds looked upon by a veritable phalanx of gardeners and horticultural specialists. He seemed to have everything he wanted and yet for all his opulent displays of wealth and his grand surroundings, he still hadn't yet found that spark in his life that made everything seem bright and shining, worth writing sonnets about.
Flicking his eyes heavenwards he took in the mottled patchwork clouds and then strode off towards the copse of sycamore trees that hid his more personalised section of the gardens from the prying eyes of those who were invited to stay at Pemberley.
He stepped onto the first level of lawns and then made his way quickly towards the lower levels, shedding his overcoat as he did so, in the humid conditions. When he had made it past the last level of fountains and sculptured gardens he rounded the corner, past the line of trees, and smiled as he took in the small, beautiful lake that very few people ever saw.
It was then that the sun burst into full beam overhead and he looked up, shielding his eyes from the harsh glare, before he sat on the back, his hands clasped loosely around his knees, and closed his eyes against its harshness.
It was a few minutes before he realised that the sun was becoming unbearable hot and that he was in fact sweating in his breeches as he lay on the uneven banks. Checking that there was nobody around, he quickly pulled off his overshirt and then his boots before folding them on the lake's edge and taking a few steps backwards, gauging the distance from where he was stood to the edge. He checked tat he was at a deep enough part of the lake and then took a deep breath, steeling himself.
After a muttered affirmation of his own insanity he ran quickly towards the lake and then dived into it, a perfect arc as he shot towards the calm, glassy surface.
Kurt Hummel took his time as he walked around Pembereley's gardens, knowing that it would be probably be his only chance to appreciate their finery as their owner, Mr. Evans, wasn't in residence at that time and therefore he could afford himself all the time he wished to look around and take in their beauty.
He wandered aimlessly, meandering through different flowerbeds and past about a dozen different fountains, each one even more impressive and intricate than the last, until he had reached the lowest tier of the gardens and was looking out on an expanse of gorgeous trees, their leaves shimmering in the golden sunlight.
His curiosity was piqued and he walked at a much faster pace towards them, only increasing with every step as he heard splashes from behind it, seemingly insinuating that there was someone in water behind the wood.
Indeed, he was right and as he rounded the corner he could see a small, perfectly formed lake, with bulrushes and wild flowers surrounding it, so unlike the rest of the gardens in their sculptured splendour. It was wild and intriguing and wonderful, and as he watched the surface rippled and then broke and suddenly a form sprang up from the surface, water flying in all directions.
He caught a glimpse of sculptured abdominal muscles, so beautiful and enticing, through the soaked and very see-though white undershirt, and then a mop of blond hair as it was flung back and shaken, the owner trying to rid it of lake water.
Gasping in surprise he was shocked as the hair was swept back and the face revealed was of none other than Samuel Evans, the one man he had been desperately trying to avoid after their many clashes in society in the past few months.
Sam swept his hair out from his eyes and desperately tried to ensure he didn't swallow any lake water. Opening his eyes, he shielded them from the still present glare of the sun and was starting to make his way back to the bank when he realised that he could make out a shadow in his vision.
He raised his hand once again and found himself staring at the slender figure of Kurt Hummel, the one man in all of England that he had been wishing to avoid.
His tongue stung like an especially angry wasp and his acidic comments and sharp wit were legendary, even if he was slightly beneath Samuel in terms of standing and wealth. They had, at times, had some heated verbal sparring matches and the younger man was witty, wise and very outspoken, to the point that they had had many disagreements.
And there was something about him that made Samuel always come back for more.
Kurt was still frozen on the bank, staring unabashedly at the ridiculously perfect physical specimen in front of him. It seemed like Samuel's chest was carved from marble, an homage to the sculptors of old, and his face, chiselled cheekbones and long, refined nose, were just as enthralling as the rest of him.
He finally regained his composure and locked eyes with the somewhat embarrassed looking Mr. Evans, before coughing politely and saying "I believe these are yours Mr. Evans."
He had picked up the gentleman's clothes and was offering them to him as he waded through the waist high water, trying not to notice how his muscles rippled every time he moved. Looking pointedly at a spot some ten feet over his shoulder Kurt managed to retain his composure, just.
However, even that was gone when he looked back and found himself face to face with Samuel Evans, their eyes locking. Their chests were mere inches apart and he felt some sort or elastic pull to the other man, something that was making him want to stand and watch again and again as the scene played out in front of him.
Sam took his clothes while trying to disguise his shaking hands, quickly stepping out onto the back and pulling them to him, only to realise that that in turn made them sodden too. He looked back up again to realise that he was unbearably close to the man who he had been avoiding, and couldn't stop himself from falling into his piercing, extremely perceptive obsidian eyes.
"Yes I think they are Mr. Hummel. How kind of you to return them to me, even though your efforts have necessitated them becoming more damp than need may have otherwise dictated."
Kurt scowled again, aware that he was being mocked, and immediately replied "You are very welcome kind sir, I assure you it was the least I could possibly do to show you my true feelings about yourself and my adoration for the matter."
Samuel forced himself to collect his belongings, still smarting from their acidic vocal tennis, and started making his way back up the lawns towards the entrance to the house. His argument with Kurt was ongoing and they were still sending vicious barbs at each other as they strutted and stormed their way back towards the house.
Before long they had succumbed to motionlessness, both standing opposite the other, eyes flashing dangerously, and were still engaged in a battle of wit and wordplay.
"I don't know how you think it would be possible for me to run such an impressive and grand, time consuming estate without having to hire such staff! How do you even manage?"
Kurt was furious, responding in kind "We manage without hiring about twenty different gardeners and four different personal maids, and not having our every whim catered for hand and foot. You sir, are a pompous ass and I do not know how anyone in polite society could ever stand to be in your company."
Samuel glowered, taking a step towards Kurt so that they were nearly as close as they had been on the lakeside, before replying "At least polite company consents to catering to my whims, unlike persons such as myself. You can hardly support yourselves in society and someone is always trying to push for you to happen upon an advantageous marriage."
At that Kurt narrowed his eyes greatly and stepped even closer to the man before him, trying to no notice the way the breeze whipped his hair, making it dance in front of his green eyes.
"I stand by my first statement sir, that you are insufferable and intolerable!"
"And you are outspoken and rude, and should know better. Didn't you get taught proper manners?"
"I should ask you the same question! You're so inexplicably... completely... you're just..."
At that Kurt was jerked forwards by his collar, his toes brushing the grass as Samuel wrapped the other arm around his neck and kissed him, hard, so hard he could have sworn that he was seeing stars.
Stepping back, Samuel was panting and stood, chest heaving for a few moments, looking at the wide eyed look of wonder and surprise in the eyes of someone who until only moments before he had thought was the devil incarnate.
Neither of them noticed the look of acceptance and resignation from Kurt's father, who had come down to the grounds to try and find his son. Nor the damp stain spreading across the front of Kurt's shirt from where he had been pressed tightly up against Samuel's chest, the lake water seeping through the thin cloth.
All they saw was each other.
A/N: Yay! I like writing things like that, just because i'm a sucker for the petticoats and carriages.
Prompt by thedaringkurtsie -Have you ever seen the film, or even better read the book, "pride and prejudice", by Jane Austen? Are you familliar with the scene (quite a famous scene, actually) where Mr Darcy (forever Colin Firth) falls into the water, and Elizabeth almost has an anurisim because he's all there with a wet white shirt on, leaving very little to the imagination, chest wise? If you've no idea what I'm on about, just ignore me, but if you do, I'd love a Sam\Kurt version of this?-
For a most wonderful version of this scene from Lost In Austen (British BBC series, won't make much sense if you don't know it but the lake bit is good) http : / / www . youtube . com / watch?v=7WOCU7eHzeI (remove the spaces) x