Chapter One
"Why you barmy, impish ponce! I told you that if you ever did that again I'd-"
"Yes, yes, you'll fong me. How many times have you said that by now to realize that it has to be bloody well impossible that I don't know it, yet? I'll slap your damnable naked arse whenever it pleases me, thank you very much, master Fawlhurst. You keep leaving it exposed, so what logical deduction do I have to draw upon, but that it must be open invitation?"
Wat felt his face flush scarlet as he shut his mouth up angrily, momentarily sputtering in astonishment at the writer's advances. He fought the urge to rub his stinging arse, of which he predicted would be a lovely shade of black and blue come morning.
"I was taking a piss before you strutted in, you blimey peacock. And just what do you think you're doing, sneaking up on a man when his breeches are down?"
A small vicious smile came to Geoff's lips, fitting his arrogant posture too well. "It doesn't matter. As I told you before when I caught you down by the river swimming in your skivvies: I'll do it again, if you keep flaunting that thing around me. It...irritates me."
Wat felt more then heard a squack of indignation arise from his throat. "You cheeky bastard, it's not as though I'm deliberately putting it on display! You're the one that picks the most inopportune moments to-"
When their peculiar relationship had started, there'd been actual physical violence and a keen disliking for one another; anyone who knew the two could attest well to that. However, as the months had drifted by, a tremulous bond of sorts had been founded, where upon the physical abuses Wat and Geoff would suffer each other dwindled considerably, all but disappearing save for their playful wrestlings, and friendly pushing and shoving. Such 'attacks' were becoming more of a frequent occurence, seemingly filled with some kind of intent on the writer's part. Though as to what that intention was, Wat had yet to figure it out.
It first had begun in jest, or what to Wat was merely jest. Kate had cornered him one night and had flat-out told him to be careful with Geoff, for some inexplicable reason. There'd been a gleam in her sharp eyes, as though she alone had possessed a knowledge that he had thus far been oblivious to. In fact, now that he thought of it, everyone seemed to have that knowledge in their eyes whenever they would happen to observe the two of them together, it seemed. And it remained there, whether they were engaged in their usual quarreling, or merely some of their normal banter.
Chaucer apparently had it too, or so Wat was coming to realize. There were mornings when Wat would be rubbing the remants of sleep from his eyes, stretching to relieve his stiff muscles, and then he'd roll over, only to catch the other man in the room with him, his piercing gaze carefully evaluating, as though he were scrutinizing every inch of his person. It was incredibly unnerving, the intensity of that stare, and made his skin crawl, though not unpleasantly.
"-and it's just terribly inconvenient. You red-haired harpy, are you even listening to a word I'm saying?"
Something Wat didn't care to analyze too much.
"Hello, anyone in there?"
Squire Fawlhurst jerked his head up, forcibly pulling himself from his own musings. He'd been doing that a lot lately, and it wasn't helping matters between the blonde-haired rogue and himself.
"Uh, yes. Yes, I am. Fine, just don't bloody well do it again, alright? You're acting rather odd lately, more so than usual, and I'm not sure what to make 'o it."
Geoff peered up at him incredulously. "I'm acting odd? I'm acting odd? Look at you, you thick-skulled little GIRL! Ah-ah-ah! Don't you hit me, I'm going to insult you properly. Haven't you noticed the way you've been behaving towards me, the looks you've been sending in my direction? You'd have to be a bloody innocent virgin to be so coy and not aware of it! You know well and truly what it is that I'm referring to-"
Wat screwed up his face in imcomprehension. "Horseshite if I've been doing anything of the sort to you. And what does being a damned virgin have anything to do with this?"
The writer continued to look at the squire in amazement. It was as though Wat had suddenly sprouted three heads, and Geoff couldn't quite be sure which one he should focus his attention on.
"You're telling me that you're a virgin, then? I don't believe it, it's ridiculous for a man of your-"
Wat snorted. "Of course I'm not a virgin, you bugger. I'd had my fair share of women, I'll have you know. I also hold a fairly decent reputation in the sack. Don't believe me? Go ask the local brothels if you're so bleedin' insistent. But I still don't understand what this has to do wi-"
He trailed off as soon as his ears picked up the startled, almost choking sound of a gasp coming from between the other's lips. Chaucer was turning blue, thumping his chest with his fist in a valiant, though obviously vain, effort to breathe again.
Scrambling into action, Wat jumped behind the other and slammed his palm between the shoulder blades before him, sending Geoff falling half-hazard toward the wooden floor. Perhaps that hadn't worked out as it should have.
"Geoff! You fool, are you alright?" Wat asked hesitantly, kneeling and placing a tentative hand on the shoulder of the man who was presently sucking in lungfuls of air between unintelligable mutterings of speech before him.
"-can't believe it...you-of all men a-bloody...virgin....this...impossible..."
Patience only stretching so far, as well as maternal instinct, Wat ran a hand through his hair in frustration, brow furrowing in mystification.
"But I'm not a virgin, you idiot. I already told you that. For the love of God, you can't bloody well breathe,and you're going on about sexual history! Just shut up and inhale you useless dolt!"
Geoff pulled himself up from his undignified heap on the floor, shaking his head in...amusment? Sometimes Wat truly couldn't understand the man. Wait, correction. He never could understand the man.
"No, no, you beautiful imecile. There are other ways to be a...didn't know-I could have sworn, in fact. You have the mannerisms, the attitude...stop looking at me like that! I could have sworn that you'd already known about your personal pref-"
Had Geoff just called him beautiful?
Nodding his head in feigned acceptance so the other would shut up, it was in that instant that Wat decided once and for all that the man before him was teetering on the brink of madness. He'd never thought he'd survive to see the day where Geoff, wondrous commander of the english language and glorious public speaker that he was, would be reduced to a pile of inarticulate mad ravings. He didn't believe it to be possible. Words to Chaucer were like day is to night.
Fortunately for the sake of his sanity, Roland emerged from the backroom of their estate, carrying a large pitcher of wine for what appeared to be company soon to arrive.
"What're you two ruffians screaming about in here? I could hear you through the walls, Christ; almost decided to box my own ears. No matter, though, we'll be entertaining William and Jocelyne tonight, so get yer filthy selves looking presentable. You know Will isn't used to the sight of dirt anymore, least of all 'is Lady."
The tense atmosphere that hung so heavy around them began to dissipate, and Wat felt his muscles relax in relief.
However, to his bewilderment, the golden-haired man beside him abruptly seemed possessed of the highest spirits, an ecstatic, nigh moronic grin breaking out across his features. That had to have been the best Wat had seen him looking in months.
Yes. Wat was assured of his suspicions now. The man's body was being inhabited by the devil himself.
"Ah, but of course, my rotund companion. I'll be ever the chivalrous knight, as our beloved Lord would expect. Perhaps a bath, would be in order? After I've finished you may make use of it as well, master Fawlhurst."
With that, the bloody dandy left the room, poking Roland in the gut on the way out and casting a...no, it couldn't have been a lascivous wink over in Wat's direction.
Wat stared after his retreating form in wonderment, puzzling over the whole episode.
Author's Notes: I crave feedback. I eat it for breakfast. If you want to see more of this story, you'll spoon feed it to me.