A little homecoming fluff for ya but I own nothing. Credits to the masterful Scott Westerfeld.
It had been an exhausting day to say the least. Alek and Deryn had flown in to Glasgow that morning, mercifully sans Volger or Dr. Barlow, and since then Alek had met nearly every single one of Deryn's aunties, cousins, nieces and nephews. The neverending flow of people was noisier and more jovial than anything he had ever experienced in his childhood. It was quite dark when Mrs. Sharp finally shooed everyone home.
Deryn had also retired early. She was, he expected, anxious to finally get away the prying of her aunties or the nagging of her mother. Alek wasn't too keen on being alone with Mrs. Sharp just yet; her bright blue eyes were so much like Deryn's and he desperately wanted to make a good impression. However, Deryn had ruffled his hair as she left the sitting room, lingering a little longer than proper, and the piercing gaze that Mrs. Sharp gave the pair of them was enough to convince him to stay firmly seated in one of the old, weathered armchairs for at least another twenty minutes. Alek dared a small smile and nod to Mrs. Sharp before studiously opening his book, a bit of studying for Dr. Barlow.
Besides, it was a rare treat to have this kind of leisure in front of a warm fire. Though the house was smaller and much less grand than Konopischt, it reminded him of quiet nights spent with his parents. If he squinted, he could almost imagine that Mrs. Sharp, who was seated in a low chair and embroidering, was...his own mother. The thought, though he knew it was silly, brought that dull ache in his chest, the quiet sadness of his parent's deaths, up to his throat. Deryn would never get the chance to meet his own parents. He almost laughs, she would have charmed them no doubt, and he swallows the ache with a mouthful of tea.
Eventually even Mrs. Sharp went to bed. She had finished her sewing for the day and she could tell that Alek needed to be left to his thoughts. He was a polite and honourable young man, but she could see the quiet sadness in his eyes because she recognized it in her Deryn. Kindred spirits, the pair of them. She could see the way they look at each other, pick each other up. They'll need it with the kind of mischief they're bound to get up to.
Though Deryn had been the first one to leave the sitting room that evening, she hadn't slept a wink. She and Alek had barely gotten a chance to talk in the chaos of her homecoming. She had hoped he would follow her upstairs where they could have a moment to themselves in the hall or, if her clanker didn't object to the idea, curl up in her bed just to talk for a squick. Except Alek had not gone to bed yet even though her ma had been asleep for ages. She waited a couple more minutes, until she was dead certain she hadn't heard his quiet deliberate footsteps on the stairs before pulling on her robe and creeping downstairs herself.
The daft boy was parked in the same spot she'd left him, an open book going unread in his lap while he swirled the contents of his tea cup over and over. Suddenly he looked like the fifteen year old boy she'd met on the Leviathan, aching with secrets and grief.
"Alek?" she whispered, tiptoeing into the room.
He startled and set his cup down. "Oh, liebe, I didn't hear you come in." He turned around to face her and she saw the edges of his sadness melt a squick.
"I came down to check on you," she said. "I never heard you come upstairs."
He frowns at his watch. "I must have lost track of time." He makes a move to stand up but she slides into the wide armchair beside him and picks up the book in his lap.
"Aye, I reckon The Politics of Darwinism in Russia and Eastern Asia is a real page turner." More quietly she adds, "Are you alright, love?"
He's quiet for a while. He reaches out to find her hand, clasping it with his. "You have a wonderful family," he whispers finally.
She'd like to snort and list the various assaults she's faced today. But instead she just says, "A bit different than yours, aye?" She squeezes his hand.
He laughs softly, sadly. "A bit, I suppose." A moment passes. "I wish you could have met mine."
"Me too. Though I don't think your granduncle would approve of your trousers-wearing Scottish airman, now would he?
He tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear and, blisters, she'd like to kiss him "I'm sure you'd be teaching all of court to tie knots in no time." She chuckles at the idea.
Then he kisses her, gently, like she's something precious. He makes her feel like she's flying with both feet on the ground. She breaks away for a moment. "For what it's worth, Alek, the aunties can't get enough of you."
"Really? I thought making me look at all of those photographs of their dead cats and husbands was some sort of cruel test."
"Well you passed it, then."
She kisses him this time, and she can feel him smiling. Eventually the kiss deepens, his hand in her hair and the other around her waist while her arms are wrapped around his neck. Barking spiders, she doesn't want to ever stop kissing him. But she pulls away an inch, forehead pressed to his. Breathless, she mutters, "Keep on like this, clanker, and I suspect the aunties may not adore you as much."
He somehow puts more distance between them. He clears his throat but his voice is deep and a little rough. Blisters. "Ah, yes, I suppose we should go to bed. Or you to your room and myself to Jaspert's—"
She cuts him off. "Aye but you've got me wide awake now." Deryn adjusts so that she's curled up against him now, head on his chest where she can hear his heartbeat. His arm wraps tightly around her, stroking her arm absentmindedly. "Tell me about that book you were reading."
"Alright, but god's wounds is it boring."
The next morning Mrs. Sharp is a little alarmed to find neither Alek nor Deryn in their respective beds. She dresses and heads downstairs, hoping to find that they'd simply gotten an early start to their day. Mrs. Sharp rarely gets exactly what she wants. She finds them downstairs alright but they're squashed into a single wide armchair, arms wrapped tightly around each other, sound asleep. She's relieved to find them fully clothed with Alek still in the shirt and pants he had on yesterday and, bless him, his tie still wrapped around his neck, though loosened a little. And her girl, his girl too she supposes, is in her pajamas and dressing gown, hair sticking up at odd angles. The more sensible part of her wants to shake them awake but something stops. Lord knows what they get up to in London, but she was young once, and in love with Deryn's da. Lord knows what they got up to in their day. She'll let them sleep for now, but she has a nagging feeling that she might me a little noisy making breakfast this morning.