Ok, next one. Not quite as good as the others, but hey, what can you do?

And the Dream of Paris Preys on My Bones

Chapter 11: How to Avoid Being Drafted

"I'm not queer."

Chauvelin sipped his tea, smiling smugly as he perused a book written in English. "Sure you're not." For a good portion of the day, Mercier had been trying to convince him of this, and he was none too eager to believe him. Not after what he had seen him doing with Coupeau the night before.

"I just needed someone, do you understand?"

"Oh sure, I understand," Chauvelin said sarcastically. "Whenever I need someone, I go to men as well. Nope, the ladies do nothing for me. No sir."

Mercier slammed his hands on the table in irritation and glared at the smug boy. "Damn it, Chauvelin, you took all of the women!"

"Oh nonsense. I couldn't have taken more than twelve."

"And Coupeau gets the rest of them with his whining and complaining! I'm thinking of getting hysterical, it seems to work well enough!"

There was a sudden knock at the door, and Coupeau came flouncing out of the kitchen wearing an apron and opened the door and a beautiful woman walked in, quickly embraced him and planted a small kiss on the boy's lips. "Coupeau, my love! How are you?"

"Not so bad, Félicie," the boy said timidly, blushing a bit and herding her passed his shocked friends and into the kitchen. "Come, we will talk in here. I'm baking cookies!"

The two of them giggled as they left the room, and Chauvelin and Mercier stared at each other in shock. "That's it. From now on, I'm pretending to be queer."

"I don't think you have to pretend, Mercier."

"I'm not queer," Mercier firmly stated, only getting all the more flustered when all Chauvelin did in response was smirk. He pushed himself out of his seat and stomped into the kitchen to see what Coupeau and the girl were up to, for he had enough of Chauvelin's smugness and sarcasm. He walked in and found the two giggling and talking at the counter while Coupeau prepared his pastries. "What are you doing?" Mercier asked the boy firmly, clearly aggravated.

"Baking cookies and talking about men!" Coupeau chirped, earning a giggle from the girl as she ran her hand through his hair. "Would you like to join us?"

Mercier turned bright red and was about to stomp out, but Chauvelin appeared behind him and nudged him in to the room. "Oh come now, Mercier, we do not be rude on the presence of a lady." He suavely approached the woman and brought her hand to his lips. "Bonjour, madame."

The girl blushed, her heart quickened, and she breathlessly asked, "Who's your friend, Coupeau?"

Coupeau blushed and turned away to attend to his pastries. "That's Chauvelin, the alleged Antichrist of Calais."

"Oh, so you're the Antichrist they have been talking about!" the girl cried, laughing slightly. Looking at him coyly, she purred, "Are you going to try to seduce me, monsieur?"

"No," Chauvelin said tiredly, releasing her hand and sitting upon the counter. "I really do not have the interest anymore." He shrugged. "I think it's missing something."

Mercier was shocked. "Missing something? Like what?"

Coupeau and the girl swooned, simultaneously saying in an airy voice, "Love…"

Chauvelin paused, seemed to ponder this, and quickly shook his head. "No, no, I think the challenge just wore off. It's too easy. Anyhow, I have to learn English, and this lady business is eating up all my time. And then I want to learn how to fight properly and I just won't have the time to womanize the way I have been."

"Oh, that reminds me!" the girl cried. "There are going to be soldiers in the city today taking away able-bodied men and put them in the King's army."

"What?" the three boys said together, their jaws dropping. "What for?" Coupeau asked, his eyes wide with fear.

The girl shrugged. "I don't know."

"Alright boys, let's go," Chauvelin said, jumping off from where he sat and grabbing Mercier and Coupeau's arms. "We're leaving."

"But…but my cookies!"

"They can wait. Come along, we need to know what this is about." He quickly bowed in the woman's direction. "I hate to be abrupt, madame, but get out of our house. We're leaving, and as should you."

"But I-"

"Now, now, don't complain. Hurry, we need to know what this is about, because, quite frankly, we three are able-bodied, and there is no chance in Hell I will ever be caught serving the king."

The woman nodded and was herded out by Chauvelin as he dragged the boys with him, slammed the door and locked the house. He turned on his heel and headed toward the docks. "Where are we going?" Coupeau asked quietly.

"I met a recently retired admiral yesterday afternoon, and I am pretty sure he knows what's happening." They walked swiftly to the docks, Chauvelin's yellow eyes quickly scanning the sailors and fishermen and quickly spotted the man he was looking for. Dragging his friends behind him, he approached the man and saluted. "Good afternoon, Monsieur Admiral."

The man looked at the boy, squinting for a moment as he tried to recognize the boy. "Oh, you're the boy from yesterday." The man said as he leaned back in his chair.

"Yes sir. Excuse me, but I was wondering if you could tell me what's going on."

"Pardon me?"

"The soldiers," Chauvelin said firmly. "Someone told me and my friends that they will be enlisting all capable men into the military."

"Very true, very true," the man said slowly nodding and smiling softly.

"Why?"

"Why?" The man sat up straight and looked at the deadly serious young man. "Haven't you heard? France is at war with England."

"We what?"

"Goodness, boy, do you know nothing?" the admiral gruffly said, standing up and walking out to the pier, the three boys trailing him closely. "England has colonies in America. You did know that, right?" The boys stared at him blankly and he shook his head. "Kids these days don't know a thing. The colonies are fighting for their independence and we are helping them."

"No way! They can do that?" Chauvelin asked, stunned at the revelation.

"Of course. People can fight about anything. The king is enlisting men from ever city and town to fight in America. You boys may soon find yourself in a uniform on the way to fight in the colonies. Or you may just be shipped to Paris to be employed as a guard there."

"Paris?" Chauvelin asked. "I have never heard of it."

"Goodness, boy! It's the capital city of our great country! Do you not know anything at all?"

"Is it big?" Coupeau asked quietly.

"Big? My boy, it's the biggest city in all of France."

Chauvelin looked at the man sceptically. "I don't think so. Bigger than Calais?"

"Nearly tenfold bigger and that much more splendid."

"Sir, is there any way we won't get thrown into the military?" Chauvelin asked swiftly as he noticed the people in the town rushing to the gates to greet the soldiers.

"For healthy boys like you, no. You should be proud to protect France."

"Proud to protect France, but not proud to serve the king," he said quickly as he took Mercier and Coupeau's hands and very quickly led them away. They ran along the dock and crouched behind a stack of crates, peering out from behind and watching the soldiers congregate on the dock to enlist the men of the city. Chauvelin plunked down on the ground. "Damn, this is no good."

"What's so bad about it, Chauvelin?" Mercier whispered. "Think how proud we can make our families. Everyone in the village we grew up in always told us to become soldiers if we could. It's a noble profession."

"You two? Soldiers? Ha! Don't make me laugh. You guys aren't soldier material."

"I don't wanna fight, Chauvelin," Coupeau whimpered, clinging on to the boy's hand.

"Look, we can't serve the king. He hasn't done a thing for the people of France, so why should we do a thing for him?" He looked at the ground for a moment and whispered to himself, "Able-bodied men…" His face suddenly shone with brilliance and he got to his knees and took a piece of glass from his pocket. Pulling his sleeve up and putting the piece at the underside of his arm right where the elbow bends, he swiftly pushed it in and drew it across, blood flowing quickly from the cut.

"Chauvelin!" Coupeau cried, eyes going wide and suddenly getting faint at the sight of the thick liquid. "What are you doing?"

Smiling slyly and swiftly standing up, he pulled Mercier to his feet and with all the force he could gather, drove his knee into the boy's thigh. The blonde instantly fell to the floor, clutching his leg and howling in pain until Chauvelin placed his hand over his mouth. "Quiet. They'll hear you."

Mercier held his breath and when Chauvelin took his hand away, he hissed between clenched teeth, "What the Hell was that for?"

"Can you stand?" Chauvelin asked quietly.

"What do you think, idiot!"

Chauvelin smiled the best he could as he took his shirt off and began to tie it around his bleeding arm. He was starting to get a bit light-headed, but that was the intended effect. "The king doesn't want a cripple in his army, now does he?"

Mercier looked at the boy with a sudden understanding; he was getting them out.

"Chauvelin, I…what about…" Coupeau was having a rather hard time formulating his question as he got what he considered to be a rather splendid view of Chauvelin half naked just a few feet away. Choking back his sudden quicker breathing, he flushed and took his eyes away from the handsome young man.

"Coupeau, listen to me," Chauvelin said quietly, slowly standing and helping to support the temporarily crippled Mercier. "I want you to be as queer as you possibly can."

"Wait, Wha-"

"Do you really think the military wants a guy who is going to be so focused on the men around him he won't pay attention? No! Get aroused, play with them, try to get them into bed with you, do whatever you can, lest you get enlisted. Your life depends on it, Coupeau."

"My…my life?" Coupeau asked meekly. Pausing for a moment, he quickly asked, "Did you say to get aroused?"

Chauvelin shrugged. "If that's what it takes."

That did it. Coupeau latched his hands on to Chauvelin's hips and pressed his body against his. He really couldn't take it anymore. He allowed his body to take over and passionately kissed at Chauvelin's neck and collarbone, moaning softly as he did so.

"Not me, you idiot!" Chauvelin hissed as he pushed the flushed and panting boy away from him. "The soldiers! Frighten the soldiers, don't scare the pants off me." Looking quickly at both boys and feeling extremely light-headed, he made sure the blood was not visible through the shirt and led the boys out to face the army.

The trio stumbled over to the line of men waiting to be inspected by the guards and stood still, Chauvelin and Mercier leaning against each other for support and Coupeau looking to the sides of the people so that he may get a glance at the soldiers. They didn't have to wait too long before they were called upon, and Chauvelin pushed Mercier forward, the poor man limping as best he could to stand before the captain.

The man snarled. "What are you doing here?"

Mercier stood up as straight as he could, winced, and put all his weight on his good leg. "I've come to serve my country, sir."

"What, a cripple? Fight for France? What is this, some kind of joke?"

"N-no sir, I-"

"Someone help this boy away."

Chauvelin smiled to himself and draped his arm over Coupeau's shoulder and let his hand lay on his chest, smiling smugly as the boy instantly began to breathe harder. "Remember, Coupeau. As queer as you can possibly be." He pushed the boy forward just as he was about to protest and smiled softly. What a wonderful person that boy was.

Coupeau was terrified. He could have sworn that Chauvelin was touching, whispering to him, and he was becoming horribly aroused from it, and then he suddenly found himself in front of a large, terrifying man. He didn't know what to do with himself, and the yearning for his leader was suddenly intolerable…

The captain had suddenly cupped his chin and turned his face to the sides, examining him, and Coupeau couldn't help but moan, his thoughts running wild with the black-haired boy. He quickly looked at the captain and he smiled to himself a bit; the man was actually rather handsome, and Chauvelin did tell him to be open, right? Grinning coyly, he swiftly took the man's hand and kissed it, letting his tongue linger on the palm until the captain jerkily wrenched his hand away. "Mmm…what's this? Don't be shy, Monsieur," he smoothly purred, imitating the very way that the falcon-eyed boy spoke when he was pleasuring women.

"What do you want, boy?" the captain asked harshly, clearly taken aback by the fair featured young man's bahavior.

Coupeau reeled back, laid his delicate hand on his chest in feigned surprise. "Why, I want to join your ranks!" Eyes narrowing seductively, he hooked an arm around the captain's neck and placed his hand upon the wide chest, gently moving his hand up and down and kneading the extremely tense muscle. "I just love a man in uniform…"

"Get this thing away!" the captain shouted as he grasped the little thing by the shoulder and held him as far away from him as he could. "It might be contagious!" None of the soldiers stepped forward to do as they were bid, but all took a large step back.

Coupeau grinned, shrugged and flounced away to join Mercier where he was sitting on the crates that they had earlier hid behind. Chauvelin grinned in total satisfaction at the little queer's performance; all was well in the world…except, of course, that the tremendous loss of blood was making him faint, but that was the point. He gingerly stepped forward to meet the captain who stood frantically wiping his hands off on his pants. Smiling meekly, Chauvelin feebly saluted. "Sir!"

The captain looked at this boy and backed away upon noticing the deathly pallor of the boy. "First a cripple, than a homosexual, and now what, a plague victim?"

"No sir! Anaemia." Chauvelin said softly, swaying where he stood. God he was dizzy…

"Christ, why do these people even bother to show up!" the captain cried, throwing his hat upon the ground.

Chauvelin was about to comment on the proper treatment for headwear as nice as that, but his eyes rolled in the back of his head and he fainted dead on the spot. The soldiers stood further back, and quite literally retreated from their positions as Coupeau came bounding down the dock and hoisted his friend on to his shoulder and took him away.

With the help of Mercier, who could now walk normally if he concentrated, Coupeau managed to get the unconscious boy back home and properly treat the rather nasty and still bleeding wound on his arm.

Chauvelin's eyes fluttered open after a little while, his entire right arm completely numb, but no longer bleeding and his two friends sitting close by. "Well, that was rather thrilling, wasn't it?"

"No. No, not really," Mercier said blankly as he watched Coupeau flutter about the boy like a mother hen.

"Oh, come now! Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Personally, Chauvelin, my sense of adventure has nothing to do with being kicked in the leg and lying to the French army about our sexuality."

"But we didn't lie!" Chauvelin cried as strongly as he could. "Coupeau's really a queer!" He turned his tired gold eyes on the boy who now sat at his side pressing a wet cloth to his forehead. "Right, Coupeau?"

Coupeau blushed, slightly nodded, and looked away.

"Paris…I should like to see that city…" Chauvelin said to himself. "Do you really think it's bigger than Calais?"

Mercier shrugged. "That's what the admiral said. I believe him."

"Chauvelin, must we?" Coupeau asked timidly, rewrapping Chauvelin's arm for the umpteenth time that hour. "I don't quite like the city, and I would really like to go back out to the countryside, and I should like to see home again…"

Chauvelin thought about this, and after a while shook his head. "No. We go to Paris. I think that we should start within the month. Who knows how long it will take us."

Coupeau sighed. "Whatever you like, Chauvelin. I…I guess Paris wouldn't be too bad…"

"Of course it won't be!" Chauvelin grinned to himself. They had evaded the army, and they were going to Paris. Life was good. "Coupeau?"

"Hmm?"

"Get your hand off my leg."