marlowemuses | ❥ sometimes it's meant to be

Entry tags:

❥ 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Laurent smiled, following the instructions as he cooked another batch of french toast for them. "Jam and chocolate syrup," he said, nodding at the already cooked breakfast which Gansey was specifically not eating. He grinned, leaning over and pressing a soft, sweet kiss to his new boyfriend's cheek.

The pleasure of being able to kiss Gansey sent a thrill all the way through him, and Laurent was blushing as he returned his attention to the food.

When he felt the softness of lips against his cheek, a mass frenzy of butterflies erupted in his belly. Could a man feel so light at just a gentle touch of lips to his cheek? He had never felt it like this before. Even the kisses he had before, infrequent dates he had, never made him feel much of anything.

"You know," he smiled, closing the distance between them again, standing beside the other man and allowing their arms to brush, "you're very cute when you blush. I like it." Jam and chocolate, jam and chocolate, how could he think about those when there was something so much sweeter?

Innocently, like he hadn't just been flirting, he asked, "How do you take your tea?"

Laurent smiled and blushed more, feeling all the hairs on his arms rise in response to the sweet flirtation. "Milk and sugar, if you have it," he said, because that was how he liked his tea, even though he usually drank it black, catering to his habit of privation to punish himself for existing.

Around Gansey, he felt inclined to allow himself pleasures. He watched Gansey every moment that he could, glancing away only when Gansey caught him looking. Blushing with nerves and pleasure, he poked at the toast in the pan, debating whether or not it was time to flip them.

"We do, luckily."

He retrieved both and left them on the counter beside the mugs. As he prepared the teabags and cleaned up some mess, Gansey stole a few glances of his own, still in wonder at the fact his feelings were reciprocated. That Laurent didn't hate him for liking him and, what's more, felt similarly.

"Hm. I wonder how Auguste will take this," he mused idly, tilting his head in thought. "Do you think he might approve?" He wasn't sure how his friend would feel about Gansey dating his precious little brother.

"I think so," Laurent said, deciding to flip the toast. It was slightly burned on the underside. Laurent grimaced. Well, this one would be his. "He likes you. I think he'll be glad that there's something that makes me happy, aside from books. He worries. He tries to hide how much, but he worries."

Tipping the toast onto a second plate when it was done, Laurent added jam and chocolate to his, taking the mug of tea and sipping at it between bites. His eyes still lingered on Gansey, addicted to him. "Where do you want to go on this date?"

"I was thinking we could go somewhere the kids go," he grinned, leaning on the counter as he nursed his own cup of tea, similarly made with sugar and milk. Pressing the rim to his lips so that he could take a sip, he considered. Something fun... something low key. Something that their dates might never get the chance to be again if they're likely to be followed around by paparazzi or whatever else royals had to deal with. Paparazzi were considerably less interested in the sons of politicians than they were in the sons of kings.

"How about a movie in town? Maybe the bookstore beforehand? Of course, I'm a gentleman, and will have you home by 11 sharp."

"The kids?" Laurent repeated, smirking. "The young whippersnappers?"

He chewed on his lower lip, watching Gansey with a smile. Things felt easy with Gansey, as though they'd already known each other a thousand years. "That sounds nice. We could also pack dinner and go hiking in the woods. I know of this old ruined--it looks like a temple. I think it's some architectural relic that belonged to the school. Or maybe that belonged to the estate the school was built on."

"Oh?" Gansey snapped to attention at that, looking very interested indeed. "Can we? That sounds great, let's do that." Were he a dog, his tail would be thumping on the floor in excitement.

It was likely that, if it was old, it belonged to the estate the school was built on. Which Gansey found much more interesting than anything that the school would have built. Sure, there was some merit in the foundation of Charterhouse... but there were so many more vastly interesting things in the world.

"Maybe we'll find something interesting there. Can you imagine? Ah, but people have probably been through there dozens of times."

Laurent's smile widened, much happier at the prospect of a date that was so them. The idea of a formal date, with dinner and a movie, sounded excruciating. Going to dinner or a movie with his boyfriend sounded fantastic. But as long as Gansey was going to insist on a date, to see if they were romantically compatible, Laurent wanted to do something where they'd be themselves.

He wondered at that, since he'd never felt like himself before. Around Gansey, it felt as though he'd discovered the true Laurent hidden under all the layers.

"Maybe we'll find something," Laurent affirmed, smiling fondly. He finished his first piece of toast, but he was still hungry. Digging in the fridge, Laurent pulled out the pack of bacon, putting another piece of toast in the french toast mix. "I desperately want to skip class today."

Gansey finished his own toast, rubbing it down into the jam before taking a bite. "Mm?" Class? Oh, right. Class. "I shouldn't tell you to skip," he said warmly, "but I do think you should do what you'd like. Assuming you aren't a serial skipper. If you are, get your butt to class." Glancing out the window, he watched as some old droplets slowly dripped off the panes. "The storm was pretty bad last night. Classes might just end up canceled today. Depending on how the getting power back situation is going across campus."

One of the downsides of having such a huge campus, he figured. Finishing his tea, he helped himself to another glass and grabbed his phone.

"The weather should be clear tonight," he said happily, "so we shouldn't have any problems being outside. It might be damp, but as long as we wear boots it should be okay."

"How do you make bacon?" Laurent asked, slightly more competent once he had made french toast once. He learned quickly, especially since bacon and french toast weren't difficult.

Once the bacon was cooking, Laurent gave him a pleased smile, drinking the last of his tea and getting himself another cup. "What do you want to do for the rest of the day?" Laurent asked, with a coy grin. "Or are you actually going to go to class?"

"Maybe, maybe not," he tossed back with an amused raise of his eyebrow, "but I'm a Senior. My classes are just a formality at this point. It doesn't really matter." Which didn't answer the question, no, but a little flirting couldn't hurt. "I could be persuaded to play hookey. Ah... but you did mention that I look like I've never broken a rule in my life. Should I shatter that pristine image? Decisions."

"I think," Laurent said, head tilted with a pleased, playful smile, "that we should skip class and go for that hike now. I think we should cancel the whole idea of the date, and instead just keep doing what we've been doing for the past two days, with the possible addition of kissing."

Smiling at Gansey over his tea, Laurent turned back to the bacon, flipping over the slices and managing to wiggle another piece of toast into the pan.

"I think," Gansey laughed, "that I like the way you think." He was pleased that Laurent's preferences agreed with so many of his own. Climbing a building was one thing, but traipsing around in mud exploring old buildings? Was not everyone's cup of tea. That it was Laurent's simply infatuated Gansey even more.

He was also quite glad to see that Laurent had regained his appetite. "Will you want to return to your room to change first? We should make sure we're well prepared for how wet it will be. I can bring spares in the Pig, too. This exploration will require a new notebook."

Starting fresh in a new notebook was always heavenly. There was something so compelling about new, blank pages.

"Ah. Or two. Can you guess what the other one is for?"

"No," Laurent said, though he was smiling with pleasure at the possibilities and at Gansey's enthusiasm. "You'll have to tell me."

He cooked a second portion for them both, with bacon, and slid half the food onto Gansey's plate. Nervous as he fidgeted over the question he wanted to ask, Laurent poked at his food for a moment. "Is it okay if I call my father and tell him that I'm dating you and therefore not available this weekend? Or do you want to wait?"

Gansey had been so insistent on the date first so that they could see if they were romantically compatible. Laurent felt like he was pushing this, especially after he'd talked Gansey out of the formal date.

Bacon was good. He helped himself to it, relishing the particularly crispy parts, and all too happy to eat something Laurent had cooked. At the question he glanced up from his plate. Of course—Laurent would still be worried about that business.

"You can," he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin, "because if I have my way, none of your weekends will be available." Truthfully, he was more worried that Laurent might decide that Gansey wasn't what he wanted. That, or he might decide that following his father's wishes was what was best for his country. Gansey didn't know. But if Laurent was feeling confident enough to want to call his father and say they were dating... Gansey certainly didn't mind.

"The other book," he continued, "is for you. Well, about you. About everything we do together. I guess it could be considered a scrapbook... but I'll be writing in it, too. So it's still a journal."

Laurent smiled. Shy but pleased, he set his plate in the sink and kissed Gansey's cheek again as he went past.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, where he could have a conversation and yet where Gansey could still overhear and Laurent could get reassurance if he needed it, Laurent called his father. The call bounced to his father's assistant, who put him on hold, but Laurent only had to wait a few moments before his father answered. "Laurent! This is a rare treat. Should I be concerned?"

Laurent bit his lip, smirking a little and feeling young, like he always did when he spoke to his father. "Hi, dad."

"Is this about Jack?"

Sighing, Laurent grimaced. "Yes, it's about Jack."

"You're not being forced into this, Laurent," the king said, tone stern yet coaxing, having taken it for granted that Laurent was going to dig his heels in. "You just have to meet him. Let rumors stir. Play the part for a couple of weeks, that's all--"

"I'm already seeing someone, dad." Laurent's eyes flicked up toward Gansey, then he blushed and looked down.

"You're... what? You're seeing someone? Who? Does Auguste know about this?"

Smirking a little because the answer wasn't immediately no, Laurent relaxed and leaned back on the bed. "Richard Gansey the third. And I'm telling you first. Does Auguste know about Jack?"

"I told you first," the king said. The slight bluster of defensiveness in his tone made Laurent's smile widen. This conversation was going the way Laurent wanted. "The American Ganseys?"

"Yes. Senator Gansey's heir," Laurent said, glancing to Gansey to make sure he had his facts right. "Auguste can vouch for Richard. They're friends."

While his friend—his new boyfriend—went to make his call, Gansey began cleaning up from breakfast. Close enough that he could listen but enough distance to give Laurent some privacy. Every so often he glanced up to reassure Laurent, wiping off dishes and rubbing splatters off the stove top, keeping his hands busy.

When Laurent flicked his eyes up for confirmation Gansey nodded—though there was more he could have been called than Senator Gansey's heir. His family was on par with the Rockefellers as far as money was concerned. Two parents well known in politics (though his mother was the more ambitious), grandparents some sort of nobility that stemmed from ancestors that simply bled excellent breeding and old money. Gansey had been worried because he didn't have prince in front of his name, but his pedigree was admittedly pristine. Even if he felt like he was the black sheep of it all, painting itself white.

Laurent's call did remind him about his own family. Ah. That was a thing, wasn't it? They were likely to be pleased he was dating anyone at all, considering he had never so much as mentioned interest in anything in their presence. His parents were too subtle and well-to-do to ask him outright when he planned on settling down and getting serious. They were likely to be extremely pleased that Gansey was dating someone like Laurent.

Tugging his iphone out of his pocket, he sent his sister a quick text: Dating Prince Laurent of Vere. Might be in the tabloids.

Now there would be no justification to her screaming at him about not filling her in on any fires she might need to throw water on, or expect to throw water on. Helen was always the one that managed their public image. She was good at it. Even with her incredibly weird brother throwing her curveballs left and right.

At least the conversation seemed to be going well? Gansey watched, leaning his elbows on the counter, once most of the cleanup had been taken care of.

Laurent flashed Gansey a smile, liking how domestic he looked as he tidied up.

"I understand," the king said, gruffly, but Laurent recognized pride and confusion in the tone. "I'm happy for you. You'll be... I know you'll be careful. I don't need to ask."

"Yes, dad," Laurent said, amused. He sat up partway, propping himself up on one elbow. "Do you want me to still be seen with Prince Jack? I'm sure that we can let the Ganseys know to keep things confidential for a few weeks, and Richard and I won't be seen together anywhere but on campus..." His tone was solicitous, but his face held a smirk--he knew his father well enough to know that his sense of honor would be bothered by the idea of orchestrating such a thorough deception, especially when Laurent had just implied that the Ganseys already knew and that word might already be spreading from there... Laurent could almost hear the squirm on the other end of the line.

"No, no, that won't be necessary. The Ganseys, they're..."

"Very honorable," Laurent said, by way of putting the nail in the coffin and also reassuring his father about his dating choices.

"Yes. Yes. Well. Have... fun, then. I trust you."

"Thanks, dad," Laurent said, smirking wider.

"You know you sound like your mother whenever you are too pleased to have gotten your own way."

"I love you too, dad," Laurent said, and hung up. Giving Gansey a grin, he tucked the phone into his pocket. "It's weird calling you Richard."

"It's weird hearing you say it."

Leaving the kitchenette so he could drop down onto the bed beside Laurent, he smiled, pleased that things had gone so seemingly well. Laurent was a clever thing; he couldn't really hear what his father had been saying but from what Laurent had said, it sounded like he had been controlling the conversation. And why not? He had everything he needed to not date Jack and he hadn't even needed to lie about it.

"It's not quite so bad when it's you saying it... but still, very strange." Richard didn't even feel like his name. Which, really, was half the reason why he didn't care to use it with those close to him.

"Better than Dick. That's even worse." Ronan liked to call him Dick when trying to get under Gansey's skin, or just felt like being annoying, and it wasn't a terrible way to go about it.

"I sent my sister a text to give her a heads up. She probably hasn't seen it yet, though." Pulling his phone back out, he pressed the button and the screen lit up—six missed calls, 10 texts, the top one on the screen reading a very large WHAT?!

"Oh," he said, mildly. "Nevermind."

Laurent laughed with delight when he saw the texts. Hugging his arms around Gansey's shoulders, Laurent leaned over to look. "Can I see?"

Grin wide with delight at the pleasure of dating Gansey and everyone's reactions to it, Laurent felt his heart thud. He felt safe. Dating Gansey would protect him, both politically and personally, as long as Gansey was willing to continue. And Gansey himself was an excellent bonus.

"Call her back," Laurent said, untangling and lounging back on the bed. He felt like he was glowing. "You can hand the phone to me if you want. That might be fun."

The texts had been an amusing progression.

Yeah, and I'm the having sex with the Queen of England, had been the first. Followed by, Why the joke? It isn't April Fools. You just made that guy up. I'm googling him. Wait. He's real? And actually goes to your school? Since when are you into guys? Scratch that. Since when are you into ANYONE? Answer me, Richard. You can't just text that and not answer. You're not serious. You're not dating a prince. WHAT?!

Followed by one exhausted sounding text from Adam, Your sister keeps calling me. What did you do now?

Gansey laughed and dropped back onto the bed beside Laurent, holding his phone up over the both of them, "You might give her a heart attack. Though, it would assure her that you're indeed real." He paused and chewed on his lip before continuing, "I'd like you to meet my friends. If that's okay. They're closer to me than my real family, honestly. I think you and Adam would get along. Ronan's a bit too much but he grows on you. And Noah... well, Noah's Noah."

"I'd like that," Laurent said, kissing Gansey's cheek and then taking Gansey's phone. He opened the texts to Helen, held the phone up and took a picture of them laying side by side to send to her. He didn't bother making a face for the picture, just took it with his face calm and neutral and whatever face Gansey was making, and sent it. "You talk about them, but I only know them by reputation. I've seen them all around. I'd like to meet them." Smiling fondly, Laurent reached his arm up and around his own head in order to toy with Gansey's hair.

"Oh, I like that." When Laurent began to toy with his hair, Gansey leaned closer, closing his eyes for a moment. It felt nice. Very nice. It was the sort of thing, he thought, that might able to actually lull him to sleep. Might.

"Reputation, hm...? What sorts of things have you heard?"

Eyes popping open again, light with curiosity, he studied Laurent. "I'm curious. I so rarely hear what others think of us. They tend to be rather careful. Oh, except around Adam. They like to pick on him—poor, yet handsome—but he's good at giving them the cold shoulder." Rambling, he knew, but it was something he was quite prone to.

"If you happened to hear that Ronan beat up four guys in the locker room, that's not true. It was only one, and it was his brother. They're like that. And I'd say it was a mutual beat up."

Meanwhile, Helen was shooting texts back more or less along the lines of Oh my God, and, I still don't believe you.

"Send her another one," Laurent said, thoroughly enjoying Helen's reaction and liking her very much already. He shifted onto his side, sliding one hand up Gansey's shirt. "Like this," he said, and then caught Gansey's earlobe between his teeth and gave it a tug, holding it that way while he waited for Gansey to take the picture.

When he let go, he flopped back down beside Gansey. "I don't know anything about what people think of Adam. I've seen people pick on him, occasionally, like the other scholarship boys. You have to keep in mind that I don't talk to other boys, so I don't know what they say unless they have a habit of having loud conversations in the library."

Laurent closed his eyes, feeling relaxed. It was so easy to talk to Gansey, to just tell him everything. Laurent felt a wave of gratitude that they'd started dating.

"Ronan, I've seen him around. He's got that look, like he's all sharp edges and bad temper, which I quite respect, since it's the same look I aim for most of the time. I suppose he's how you've developed an immunity to it? I've seen him beaten up. I've seen him in a fight. You know what I've never seen?"

Laurent rolled over, laying on his stomach and propping himself up on his elbows as he looked over at Gansey. "I've never seen him pick on anyone. He's never said a word to me, nor--as far as I'm aware--about me, and that's not a thing I can say about many of our schoolmates."

Shrugging briefly, as if it was no big deal--it was--Laurent looked away. "Noah... which one is Noah?"

Edited 2016-10-21 01:02 (UTC)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject