marlowemuses | ❥ sometimes it's meant to be

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❥ sometimes it's meant to be

Charterhouse was one of the most elite, exclusive schools in England.

It housed only boys. Boys of all ages, from ones first learning to button their pants on their own to the ones that couldn't seem to keep their pants on when in interesting company. With a campus that covered more than 27,000 acres, the schools had plenty of room to be spread across. Rich, green grass and old fashioned cobblestone streets—it was the pride of the academic world. Rich in history and pedigree, only the cream of the crop could even glance at an application, much less apply and attend. It was a school for future politicians, royalty, and celebrities. The men bred from Charterhouse were said to be the most cultivated in the world.

And, naturally, the richest. Only those from a well-to-do family could attend Charterhouse. Which was why one Richard Campbell Gansey the Third was one among the golden—like his father before him, and his father before him. The Ganseys were internationally known. Mrs. Gansey: a popular and well-known politician in the United States of America. Mr. Gansey (the Second): an ambitious and clever member parliament. Helen Gansey: fashion entrepreneur and lawyer, likely to end up going into politics once she tired of running the runway.

Richard Gansey the Third: one could only wonder what the future POTUS would do. On the campus of Charterhouse he was a golden boy. Popular—captain of the crew team yet also quite an intellectual, spending a great deal of time involved in the expansion of the library and archiving old, important texts. He was the man that everyone liked and talked to. The laughs of Ganseyboy were oft heard throughout the marble halls of the College campus. Handsome—he was more American than most of his peers, having a presidential and charming look about him, with a perfectly golden sun-kissed tan. Thick brown hair swept back neatly almost always, a square build, gentle olive eyes, and a straight nose. The sort of man that entranced those who spoke to him; that wasn't even taking the velvety, almost magical quality of his voice into account.

What the members of his crew team could never figure out was why Richard Campbell Gansey "Ganseyboy" the Third was always single. Never spoke about his sexual conquests, never brought a girl along to parties (when he attended, reluctantly), never even so much as mentioned being interested in anyone. It boggled their minds. The man spent his time with his nose in dusty old books and wandering around old buildings so often that they had grown concerned; the guy should get laid. As friends, as bros, as fellow eventual members of congress of what-have-you, it was their duty to see their beloved Ganseyboy paired off. Or, at least, getting some kind of action in his youth.

Which was why there was a plan. A plan, and a bet that eventually formed because of that plan. A bet in which a lot of money was placed. For, the subject of their little game (along with good old Ganseyboy) was the iciest, coldest, most shut off of all the students. What was the point if there was no challenge? No doubt, among the boys involved in the bet, there were a few that had been spurned by the ice prince, too. Revenge was a sweet thing. Two birds with one stone: they got Ganseyboy laid and they burned the ice prince that had burned them. Or three—someone was bound to make a tidy profit.

When one of the boys approached the ice prince's brother about setting him up with the charming golden boy on campus, the man had launched at the opportunity—for the happiness of his brother, no doubt, and he was not told about the bet.

That was how it would begin. It was a Wednesday, around 4 in the afternoon, when one of the boys dragged Gansey toward the library. The rest of the boys had made sure it was empty. The one dragging him—Charles Defonte the Second—had begged Gansey for some tutoring in history. It was agreed with Laurent's brother that he would also manage to bring Laurent to the library somehow—and the two of them would be left there together to formally acquaint.

There was no tutoring. Charles shoved Gansey into the library in front of him and then shut the door behind him and locked it. "Oh no," the boy faked a gasp, "the door has gone and locked itself, Ganseyboy! A ghost, it's gotta be. I'll go get the janitor. Be back as soon as I have lunch and then find him!" Leaving a very confused Gansey staring at the door and trying to push it open, to no avail. Locked.

"Do you really think it's a ghost?" he said to no one, because Charles had run off to tell the boys that he'd done his part.

There was another door on the other side of the library that was left for the same to happen to Laurent. Unbeknownst to Gansey, who took a seat at one of the tables and glanced around, quickly. A curious time for there to be no one else in the library.

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While Laurent went to brush his teeth, Gansey swapped his pants for the soft sweatpants he sometimes wore as pajamas. Usually he slept in only his boxers, but he didn't think that would be appropriate when sharing his bed with a friend. It was chilly, anyway.

A quick check of his phone confirmed that Ronan was staying with Adam and wasn't actually in his room at all. Not that it would change the situation; Gansey never went into Ronan's room without stark permission. Ronan's room was like a pit. Once something went in, it so rarely came out. Not to mention that he was keeping a raven in there. Gansey didn't want to risk Chainsaw flying out and landing on Laurent's shoulder. Pets weren't exactly allowed in the dorms.

At his desk he removed his contacts and blinked a few times while returning them to their plastic holding container. Which meant he broke his glasses back out in order to see before he eventually fell asleep.

He continued on with his usual nightly routine: brushing his teeth, washing his face with his spiced soap, staring at said face wondering if he'd ever grow a beard (no, his face was smooth as a baby's ass naturally), applied deodorant. By the time he slid into bed with Laurent he smelled strongly of mint and spice.

There was plenty of space between them on the bed but Gansey was so keenly aware of how the sheets warmed slightly in the other man's direction. But he made no outward note of it, kept his face pleasant and friendly as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

"Is Auguste okay with you staying here?"

"Yes," Laurent responded, showing him the texts. "He says you're a 'good egg'. Who says things like that?"

He smiled slightly at the opportunity to joke with someone about Auguste, but he was still clearly nervous and uncomfortable, and his hands were shaking slightly with cold. He kept them on his lap to hide it.

Gansey looked utterly charming with the glasses on. Laurent smiled slightly at how endearing it was when he pushed them up his nose. Geeky looked all the more charming on Gansey's perfect face.

Gansey laughed, leaning over to look at the texts Laurent was showing him. "A good egg, huh? He's a right true penny himself." Said, completely unironically, as Gansey was exactly the sort of fellow to say things like that.

Leaning back over to his side, he stretched his arms over his head and relaxed his elbows back against the pillow, watching the television screen. His fascination on whether or not aliens had assisted in building the eiffel tower appeared rapt, but his attention was really on Laurent.

"Are you usually a night owl or a morning person?" he asked, curious to learn a few more things about his friend before they called it quits for the night.

Laurent smiled at Gansey's comment, amazed yet again at how sweet and earnest he was.

"Both, I suppose. I don't mind rising early, as long as there's coffee or tea to be had. I often stay up because my mind is restless, and... do you ever get that? I want to sleep, but I dread that period of being alone with my thoughts. That if I let go of my distractions for a moment, I'll be forced to feel all the anxiety and depression that I've been holding back."

Surprised at his own confession, Laurent ducked his head, feeling vulnerable and foolish.

"I do," he answered honestly, "very often. Ronan and I get along so well as roommates because we're both insufferable insomniacs. It's ... easier, knowing there's someone else awake too, even if I'm not actually in the same room as him." The confession was easier than he had thought it might be but he had made peace with those particular demons long ago. "I spend most nights reading or building. I've constructed a cardboard copy of campus, as a matter of fact."

Finally turning his face toward his friend, Gansey offered a small, wry smile. "You know, if you're ever feeling that way, you can text me. I'll be awake to answer." Again, he longed to reach out—rest his hand on top of Laurent's—but this time he refrained, remembering the man's spooked expression from earlier.

"Or call me. I actually like to talk on the phone."

"You would," Laurent said, smiling. He felt reassured, sliding down beneath the covers and shivering. The cold cloth against his bare feet only made him more cold. Laurent curled into himself, trying to stay as small as possible while the blankets warmed up. He felt vulnerable and foolish, unaccustomed to letting anyone see him while he slept. Even with Gansey.

Gansey watched as Laurent slipped into the covers and curled up. If he hadn't been staring he might not have even notice how Laurent was shivering; it was faint, especially since they weren't touching, but he noticed all the same.

"Are you cold?"

It wasn't a question that really needed an answer. Biting his lip, Gansey glanced about the room to look for something that would help warm his friend up. There wasn't much. Gansey was naturally warmblooded and chills didn't bother him too easily. He could steal more blankets and pile them on top of his friend, but they would still be chilly until they warmed up from body heat.

"If you are, move closer to me," he said, taking his glasses off and leaving them on the table beside his side of the bed. "I'm pretty warm." The television went off with a click of button, leaving them in darkness and quiet aside from the sounds of the storm.

"It's all right. Noah uses me as a furnace all the time."

"Oh?" Laurent asked, unsure this was something friends did or if it indicated more. "You and Noah...?"

His pride made him balk, but he was obviously shivering, and the offer was irresistible. If Gansey thought it was fine, as friends, then it was fine. And if it let him pretend that they were something more, that was nice, too.

Laurent shifted closer, tentatively reaching out an arm to touch Gansey's bicep.

He started shivering worse at the little bit of warmth, which didn't surprise him. He'd always been slender and fragile, quick to catch colds. It seemed stupid to him that his body would shiver worse at the prospect of a small amount of warmth, but he supposed it made some kind of sense, if his body was suddenly changing its focus from trying to insulate warmth to trying to circulate the insufficient new source of warmth.

If there had been any reservations on Gansey's part because of his feelings, they vanished the moment that cold hand touched him. Not as bad as Noah but certainly comparable. It flicked his concerned switch, and without a second of hesitation he pressed his warm palm against the top of Laurent's cold hand.

"Jesus Christ, you're freezing." It seemed especially so because he had warmed up considerably more in his time under the blankets. "You'll catch a cold like this."

Turning toward his friend, Gansey decisively closed the gap between them. Moving in close enough that their bodies were able to share heat.

Laurent's breath caught as Gansey moved closer. It was the most pleasant sensation he'd ever felt, and his heart pounded with longing. Reaching for Gansey, Laurent nestled into his arms. His shivering subsided almost immediately as he was engulfed in the soothing warmth of Gansey's broad chest and strong arms.

More than a crush, then, he decided. He was falling for Gansey, falling hard. Even though he knew Gansey would be gone next year, and then Laurent knew that he'd hoard these memories for years, using them to warm his heart every time he ached with loneliness.

Sighing once with contentment, Laurent's breath evened. The warmth and safety of Gansey soothed his nerves and he dropped toward sleep, defenses gone and replaced with trust.

When Laurent nestled into his arms, Gansey felt strangely calm. Warming his chilled friend, hugging him close, felt so... right. The weight upon his chest was soothing in a way that he couldn't understand. So he made something up: that knowing Laurent was warmed up had eased his concerns. It wasn't right and he knew it wasn't. That, however, was what he told himself as he studied his sleeping friend for some time.

Eventually the pounding of rain on glass and the soft sound of Laurent's breath lulled him into sleep.

The rain broke around three in the morning. When the sun broke over the horizon, the trees glittered and the grass sparkled with drops. All was quiet.

For the first time in forever, Gansey slept past the sun making itself know. Hair tousled against the white pillow, the man looked utterly peaceful in sleep, lips parted just slightly, chest rising and falling gently. Like a young prince waiting for true love's kiss to wake him from a spell.

Laurent tensed as he woke, finding himself pinned, but he recognized Gansey a moment later and smiled at how beautiful he looked in sleep. Yearning to kiss those perfect lips, Laurent watched him for a few minutes before he stirred, having to get up and pee.

Shivering almost immediately as he got out of bed, Laurent hurried through using the bathroom and then brushing his teeth. He was shivering badly by the time he finished. Grabbing his laptop along his way back to the bed, he slid under the covers and hugged immediately into Gansey's arms, breath quick and shaky until his shivering stilled again and he could relax. "Is the power out? It's freezing in here."

Gansey stirred when he felt that lovely weight remove itself from his person. Sitting up, he scrubbed his head and reached for his glasses, noticing how goosebumps rippled across his skin when he left the warmth of the blanket nest.

When Laurent returned he made a murmur of agreement. "Maybe... either that, or Noah's home," he yawned. Reaching for the remote he pressed the on button a few times. The television did not respond.

"This building is one of the oldest. I'm not surprised." Gansey rubbed his hands up and down Laurent's arms to warm him once he rejoined him under the covers. "What a storm, hm?"

Laurent nodded, blushing and smiling as Gansey rubbed at his arms. He felt incredibly warm and safe, more satisfied than he had in years. "You don't mind this?" he asked, relaxing once he warmed up again. He didn't have enough context to know whether this was normal for friendships. It felt intimate, but also wonderful. If Gansey didn't mind, Laurent intended to soak up the warmth and attention. "You and Noah," he said, since Gansey had never actually answered when he'd asked before about Gansey sharing his warmth with Noah. "You do this?"

"If he's feeling colder than usual. He doesn't ask, but I touch his hand and it's like ice, I can't leave him alone." Thinking on it, Noah never complained about the cold. Dealth with it like a champ. Usually he joked that he'd been dead for seven years, and they all had a good laugh about it.

"So no, I don't mind at all." Even if he neglected to mention that he didn't usually embrace Noah. Just rubbed at his hands and nagged him about wearing more sweaters like a good dad friend would.

"Has it helped?"

The answer reassured Laurent's nerves, while still making him feel like he was ... special. Like he got more of Gansey than anyone else. Surprised by his own possessiveness, Laurent nodded. "Yes. I'm not used to being touched, unless it's someone pawing at me. This is ... nice. I'm glad we're friends."

Sitting up but staying pressed close against Gansey, Laurent reached for his laptop. He flipped it open, found no wireless signal, and set it aside, reaching for his phone instead and flipping through it to check his emails. His brow furrowed at one of them, expression darkening as he read through it. A sick misery settled in his stomach, making him feel cold in a way that Gansey's warmth did nothing to dispell. "Fuck."

"Me too." And he was. So very glad. It was the best choice, ignoring whatever budding feelings he had in favor of good old fashioned friendship.

Getting out of bed seemed a terrible idea with the room as cold as it was but he had almost managed it when Laurent said that word. Glancing over at his friend in mild alarm, concern etched across his handsome features, he instantly worried that something had happened.

"Is everything okay?" His first thought was that someone was hurt; it had been a rough storm. It was possible someone got caught out in it.

[Dipping into Kings (TV) canon here because it suited my purposes better than anyone from Laurent's canon.]

Laurent sighed and slid down under the covers, more petulant than truly upset. "I would have hoped that they'd give me a few more years. The short version is that my father believes it would be advantageous for me to... date. Or pretend to."

Grimacing, Laurent showed Gansey the picture. It was of a dark-haired young man, older than either of them by a couple years. "His name's Jonathan, goes by Jack. Prince of Gilboa. Recently came out as gay, so... that's interesting. My father's steward sent along the full dossier of what we know on him, because he knows how I am."

Scrolling down, Laurent read fast, absorbing as much information as he could while he tried to figure out how he wanted to react. "They want me to date him. He has a reputation for being a party boy and has a few scandals to his name, so they're hoping that--" Laurent snorted disdainfully. "I'll be a stabilizing influence. And, much more importantly, our fathers want the alliance. An openly gay royal couple would have international public appeal. It's not quite an arranged marriage, but I can take as implied that if we can endure each other in a media-friendly relationship for a few years, they'll want things to be... permanent."

[ Haha! Sounds fantastic. ]

Gansey was surprised at the incredibly unpleasant feeling that gripped at his chest. Like his heart was both jumping into his throat to stop his breathing, and dropping like a stone into his heels. Ouch.

The logical, sensible side whispered: It's fine. This is supposed to happen. Be a good, supporting friend. He deserves to be happy. Maybe things will work out with this guy.

But he still felt eerily sick. It was one of the few times he was grateful that his family embedded in him the ability to feel numb rather than to feel at all, when it was necessary. So he slipped into that. Blocked everything that might give his face a tick that would betray any kind of distress. Lockdown.

Glancing at the screen with a critical eye, Gansey skimmed the information as it scrolled past. "He's not bad looking," he admitted as he rubbed at his lower lip in interest. "I suppose it can't hurt for you to meet him? If you aren't against the idea." Finally dragging himself from the bed, Gansey stretched his arms over his head, rubbed his neck, as he made his way over to the kitchenette to grab two bottles of water. Tossing one to his friend, Gansey cracked the cap on his and took a swig.

"Maybe you'll have some things in common?"

Laurent felt bereft as Gansey moved away from him. Agonized, he tossed the phone aside on the covers and sank down beneath them. "Please don't be reasonable about this. The last possible thing I want is to be reasonable and mature about this."

Feeling childish, Laurent pulled the covers up over his head and curled up on his side. He ignored the bottle of water, wanting to hide in the bubble of Gansey's warmth for as long as it lasted. If he was going to pretend to be dating anyone, he wanted it to be Gansey.

"Oh?"

Gansey took another sip of his water before he joined Laurent on the bed again, leaving the bottle on the night table. Leaning an arm around his friend, Gansey peeled back the covers just enough so that he could see Laurent's eyes. Those strands that so liked to curl across his forehead were doing it again, and his glasses were sliding down his nose.

"Then I won't be reasonable. Let's see... I bet he's a ragamuffin that doesn't deserve your attention. I also imagine his feet smell like cheetos. Unbearable."

Dimple crinkling under his eye, Gansey smiled, "Is that better?"

Laurent couldn't resist a smile at Gansey's teasing, which did make him feel better. He rolled onto his back again, watching Gansey with an infatuated smile. He wanted, painfully, to reach up and pull Gansey down for a kiss. "Yes," he sighed, feeling the urge to hurl things subside.

Looking away as he turned his clever, manipulative mind to the problem, Laurent frowned. "It doesn't get me out of this, though. They want to make the announcement immediately, to derail some scandal he's tangled up in. And then to fly me out to Gilboa this weekend so that we can be photographed together, looking beautiful. To inspire rumors about me as the possible future Prince Consort." Groaning painfully, Laurent tried again to retreat under the covers.

"Sounds like they're not going to give you much time to meet him and see if you like him or not," Gansey admitted, leaning back onto his own pillow and staring at the ceiling.

"If you truly don't want to, let's think up a series of ways to get you out of it," he suggested, "and maybe one will stick. Is there any reason you can think of that would make your father step down?"

Gansey tried to think, but wasn't comfortably familiar with how Laurent's father was, nor how things worked in the world of royalty.

"It doesn't matter whether I like him or not. As long as we can pretend for ten minutes at a time while we're photographed, his reputation--and mine, I suppose--will be pristine. As long as neither of us get spotted with anyone else." Laurent's eyes flicked to Gansey before he could stop himself, and then his jaw tensed.

No. Photographers knew better than to try and sneak onto the campus, and it generally wasn't worth the trouble--pictures of schoolboys in uniform never sold well in the tabloid papers. And even if they did, his relationship with Gansey was innocent.

"A better offer," Laurent suggested, with a bitter laugh. They weren't going to get a better offer, unless they could find a gay prince of a country that was as influential but who had a better reputation.

A better offer. Gansey almost laughed. So even if he had tried to ask Laurent if he could court him it wouldn't have mattered. He was no prince—sure, he had excellent political standing and his Grandfather had been in line for the English crown—but Gansey had nothing to offer.

"I'm sorry," he said, softly. He was. Laurent deserved to be happy. Deserved to find love on his own and not be used to lessen the blow of someone else's scandals.

"I wish there was something I could do."

Gansey hated feeling useless. Even if this was what they had been talking about last night; Laurent had known it was coming. Maybe talking about it had jinxed them.

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