Pleasant Combination
by Tremayne
Pairing: Cantrip/Ragwort
Rating: PG
Author's Note: For the contrelamontre comm on LJ: challenge "perfection."
Seattle, Washington. As far away from New Square as two young barristers could be on recess salary. It was constantly raining, and very cold for April, but there was something rather homely about it. Ragwort was likely to say that the homeliness about Seattle was the fact that it really did resemble London ... it was constantly raining, and very cold for April.
Cantrip didn't agree. Then again, he very rarely agreed with his best friend. They were polar opposites, yet constantly together. They worked together, drank together, joked together, traveled together, studied together (despite Hilary's insistance that Cantrip's school was no par to Ragwort's) and some around Lincoln's Inn even were known to say that they slept together. Neither of the pair would ever try and argue, though they held as far as possible from admitting it.
Maybe it wasn't even true. The only one who'd ever tried to get Cantrip and Ragwort to admit to its truth or untruth was Julia Larwood, who the two had promised to write from Seattle.
Unfortunately for Julia, there hadn't been the time. They continued to get letters from her -- actually, Julia wrote every day, lonely for their company and wanting to at least see the writing of at least one of her two friends on paper. Even a phone call would do, wrote Julia. It's been a long time since I've heard from you, wrote Julia. How can you spend a whole month in a place no more beautiful than home, wrote Julia.
You've got to write back to me sometime, wrote Julia. Julia's suspicions were that her friends had little to do besides relax in their room, but that they just didn't care. Cantrip and Ragwort loved reading Julia's letters, curled up together on the couch. The different stains led them to their favourite game, "Where Has Julia Been Today?" Ash stains, retsina, brandy, tomato sauce, ice cream ... the possibilities were endless.
"I suppose the rumour is that we've gone off on romantic holiday," Ragwort commented after playing the Julia game one evening.
"Not too romantic. Not much of a holiday, either, but I'm enjoying it, aren't you?" Cantrip asked, reaching for the newspaper. "The rain is kind of nice. It's not like we really expected it to be sunny."
"Why'd we come to America, anyway?"
"Why not?"
"We really should write Julia sometime," Ragwort conceded. "She'll never let up. She must write five letters a day."
"They're dreadfully entertaining, you know."
Sighing, Desmond Ragwort put down his glass of retsina, reached for his pen and winked at Cantrip.
Julia Larwood got her letter two days later.
Our dearest Julia,
The weather is dismal. The company is not. You were right about the
pleasant combination of Cantrip and hotels -- luckily, I haven't yet
seen any spiders.
You can take that innuendo or leave it, my dear.
Fondly,
D. Ragwort.