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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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)

It wasn't so easy to take the picture when—well, apparently his ears were quite sensitive. He had to physically resist a shiver from the feeling of his earlobe being tugged. The hand up his shirt wasn't easy to ignore either; he might have shown zero interest to anyone, but he was as hot blooded as any other guy. But he ignored the prickling sensation of goosebumps by picturing his sister's face. That worked wonders for killing any libido that might be building.

So he snapped the picture and sent it.

He listened quietly as Laurent spoke, marveling at the sound of his voice. It was lovely. The sort of voice he could listen to for hours. When the other boy turned and propped himself up on his elbows Gansey turned his head so that he could still see his face.

"You're right, Ronan doesn't pick on anyone. Despite what people think, he has his own very strict sense of morals. He's a good a guy as the come, in my opinion. He doesn't lie. And he doesn't say anything he doesn't mean." Which meant, of course, that he wasn't nice all the time. Which Gansey was perfectly okay with.

"Noah is..."

Gansey waved his hands a little, "Blond, blue eyes, sort of like you. His hair is shorter though. And pale." That was about the best he could do. "He's just—Noah. You'll meet him."

Flipping through the new series of texts which were mostly just Richard what on earth, Are you for real, Does he have any single siblings??? he asked, "What about me?"

Laurent laughed at most of the new texts, delighted by each one. "You can tell her that my brother is the heir but he's engaged to the princess of Patria."

Shrugging at the question, Laurent met Gansey's eyes calmly. "You're popular. Usually surrounded by your friends. More studious than most of the popular jocks. You've got nice shoulders. That's all I knew, before we met in the library."

Gansey laughed at the prospect of telling Helen about the princess of Patria. "Oh, I'm not sure I should. She'll fly there and fight her if she thinks it'll get her a prince. Best for the princess that we don't let that happen, hm?" He settled on sending her an emoji instead. Which only fueled her questions (You're seriously dating someone? I thought you'd end up marrying a mummy from Egypt or something. I want to meet him! Is he reading this? Hello!! Richard, tell him I said hello.).

"I'm surprised you didn't hear something else," he hummed, sending Helen another emoji, "but I guess that's to be expected. You think I've got nice shoulders?'

"You do," Laurent agreed, thoroughly enjoying lounging with Gansey and teasing his sister. "Tell her I am in fact a mummy from Vere, and that I say hi. Broad shoulders. I have a thing for broad shoulders."

Smiling and running a fingertip along Gansey's shoulder, Laurent smirked when Gansey's phone buzzed again. "You're on the rowing team, right? I like the results of that. What else was it that you thought I might have heard?"

Edited 2016-10-21 01:29 (UTC)

Chucking, Gansey did as Laurent told him, detailing to his sister that his new boyfriend was, in fact, a mummy from Vere and that he said hi. A flair for the dramatic, he added a bit of a story about how he dug him up, and that he always knew he'd find something great among some ruins.

"I am," he confirmed, gaze flicking down to the fingertip along his shoulder and back up in the span of a second. "Captain, actually. Though I'd been thinking of giving it up." Glancing back at his phone for a flurry of texts from Helen (See, with anyone else I'd laugh and say that's a joke. With YOU, I am rightfully concerned. There will be no dating of the undead! Honestly, no other sisters have to say this. Well, if you like him, he must like the same weird stuff you do! Else you'll be dumped in a week. You can cry on your sister's shoulder when it happens) he shrugged, "Well, I do make it a habit to talk off the ear of anyone'll that'll listen to my stories. History or otherwise. Usually I try to keep it to professors but it doesn't always end up that way."

"Otherwise... I'm not sure. You know, so many of them call me dad? That's bad. I'm surprised you haven't heard that. Oh—and that I can't grow a beard. I think that's been floating around recently. I hope you haven't a thing for those, because that rumor is true." He sighed. "I think I'd look dashing with one, but alas."

"No beard," Laurent said. "Strict shaving." Laurent smiled, hugging his arm around Gansey's waist and cuddling up against his side as they watched Helen's texts. "And you're to stick with rowing unless you take up something else that will maintain the shoulders. Tell her that we're working on translating Phoenicio-Punic texts together. In case either of you needed reassurance that you're not going to be dumped in a week."

Gansey was warm, and Laurent smiled against his shoulder, blissfully happy to have gotten what he wanted. "I promise never to call you dad. That is definitely not one of my kinks."

Gansey snorted, turning toward Laurent more so that they could be closer, resting the phone a bit lower as he typed. "I would hope my shoulders could keep your interest for a bit more than a week," he drawled, "if I'm to keep up rowing. I guess I can see it through until the end. It's not like it takes up much time."

"And I'm relieved to hear you say that. It's not one of mine, either, for the record. I'm tempted to ask you what one of your kinks is, but it might be too soon for that. So, I'll ask instead, shall we start getting ready to head out?" He dropped his hand and allowed the texts to rack up again.

"Even if I'd hate to move. You're comfortable."

"You're comfortable and warm," Laurent said, reluctantly letting go and sitting up. "I might have to fight Noah for your warmth."

Getting to his feet, Laurent frowned, remembering what Gansey had said about sharing his warmth with Noah, since Laurent had been dismissing their cuddling at the time as just friendship. In retrospect, he felt a sharp stab of jealousy at the thought of Gansey holding Noah like that.

Gansey rolled onto his stomach, stretching out for a moment as he soaked up the last bit of warmth from the sheets. "You won't have to fight him," Gansey said, finally pushing himself up and raking a hand through his thick hair, "because you get preferential treatment. He can have whatever's left over."

Glancing up, he noticed Laurent's frown and tilted his head, "Something wrong?"

Laurent shook his head. "I was surprised by how much I disliked the thought of you keeping Noah warm like--like last night. I didn't know I had a jealous streak, but it seems I do." Laurent picked up Gansey's sweater and put it on over his uniform, immediately feeling warm again.

"I'm ready," he said, glancing to Gansey to make sure, and then heading for the door. "Don't forget your notebooks." He paused by the door to wait. "And lunch--what about lunch? We should take something with us in case we get lost in the woods."

Gansey blinked twice at the notion of Laurent being jealous. It wasn't something he was unfamiliar with; Ronan often expressed jealousy whenever Gansey made a new friend, but this was different. Grabbing his car keys, he followed, grabbing another sweater just in case it was cool from having rained so much the night before.

"We can stop in town and pick some stuff up from 7-11." They had excellent drinks, and he was fond of their snacks. "I've already got some stuff in the trunk. Backpack, boots, a spare change of clothes, but no food." Exploring was one of his favorite things to do, and one never knew when he was going to end up floating in a lake.

Outside, he was a bit cool, though not enough to make Gansey pull on the extra sweater he grabbed. Making his way to the Pig, he slapped his palm against the roof and gave it a quick look over. As usual, another habit.

"Or we can swing by the cafeteria. There's bound to be something we can grab and go with. We might run into people who'll want to tag along, however." Somehow, whenever he went somewhere social, he always ended up with a few stragglers sticking to him and vying for his attention.

"Let's do the 7-11," Laurent said, sliding into the car and smirking a little. He felt fonder of the vehicle today, because it was so very Gansey. "I don't want anyone to tag along with us, and if they try I might have to drive them off with icy jealousy, and then you would realize what a very unpleasant person you're dating."

He gave Gansey a wry smirk, having no illusions of what the student body thought of him. He used that icy unpleasantness as a defense. Gansey, somehow, wanted to be with him despite that. "It's probably inevitable, but I'd prefer to have the one day with you as my boyfriend before you realize I'm not worth the trouble."

He was more than happy to skip dealing with the other boys. Selfishly, Gansey wanted Laurent all to himself. Anyone else intruding on their date would be a pain.

Gansey's eyebrows furrowed slightly when Laurent spoke so poorly of himself. True, he wasn't upbeat and friendly with their schoolmates, and had his quirks, but that didn't mean he wasn't worth being with. So after he kicked the Pig to life, instead of pulling into drive, Gansey reached across to catch Laurent's chin. Closing the rest of the gap, he tenderly pressed his lips against his boyfriend's forehead.

"You're worth every kind of trouble."

Smoothly sitting back in his seat and finally easing the car out of its spot, he made for the little road that lead off campus. Cheerfully he asked, "What's your favorite snack? I'm fond of beef jerky, myself."

Laurent's eyes widened and his lips parted, stunned by the gesture and the words. Gansey's faith in him felt incredible, even though Laurent still thought it must be misguided. It meant the world to him to be so valued, so adored, and Laurent a wave of affection and devotion.

"I've got a weakness for anything salty. Beef jerky's good. Turkey jerky's better." Laurent smiled, resting his head back against the seat and watching Gansey with shy affection. "Kind of in the mood for ice cream right now. Oh, anything barbeque flavored. Not ice cream."

"Then that's not everything," Gansey laughed, thoroughly amused. "Barbecue is great. So is ice cream. We can grab some barbecue chips for later, and some ice cream for now? We already had breakfast and it'd be a shame for it to melt."

The Pig pulled onto the long road to town happily, growling as he pressed his foot down on the gas. Road completely clear, it was just them and the long stretch in front of them. It was a beautiful sight, Gansey thought, with sunlight breaking through trees wet with raindrops. Little rainbows broke through, sparkling among boughs and bushes.

"I love the way the forest look after it rains. It's beautiful." Leaning back in the driver's seat, Gansey relaxed, enjoying the drive.

"It makes me miss Ireland."

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