olden times for Tommy

[oohforeshadowing]

The great country pile isn't their speed, really.

Double had their lovely house in London, bought and paid for by their adoptive father - a High Fae of some high regard, who'd been fretting about their lands and accounts falling into strangers' hands when he passed on. It was a heartrending story, of course, and Double was...well, positively delighted to be anything the old man wanted them to be. For the right price.

Shapeshifters have long since had a bad reputation for sliding into the upper echelons this way. They hadn't been in penury to begin with, by any means, but 'lovely house in London' money and 'vast estates with mining wealth and hundreds of rate-paying tenants' money is not the same by some order of magnitude.

The old man died peacefully in his bed, well over a century old, and left the manor house and everything that went with it to their sole heir. Who is going to sell it all, eventually, but it feels tasteless not to even let their 'father's' body grow cold.

They move in after the last of their furniture has been transported, and lets the housekeeper give them the tour. They cut quite the figure: long blond hair pinned up in curls, a jacket and blouse tailored tightly to a corseted waist, the snug high-waisted breeches favoured by most males. Their tail is the most exposed part of them and the woman they're following keeps eyeing it like she's not sure if it's obscene or not.

"...show you the stables, your grace," she says, as she walks ahead to the outbuildings.

"Ah. I suppose we ought."

Comments

[oohforeshadowing]

"Wonderful."

And just as well, because a light, bitter rain has started to fall by the time they leave. The coachmaker is an amiable man - his features make Double suspect demi-Fae - who clearly knows a lucrative commission when he sees one. He shows them design diagrams, colour illustrations of the carriages he's completed, and shows them one rather beautiful coach that's been recently completed and is awaiting collection by its buyer.

"What do you think?" Double asks Tommy, apparently to the light bewilderment of the coachmaker, who hasn't quite dared ask who exactly Thomas is to them.

[bleak_midwinter]

"I think I know good work when I see it," he says, hands in his pockets as he looks at the coach. "If I could find a fault I'd tell you, but I don't. We need a coach and a modern model of the buggy we came here on," he informs them. "The color scheme is your own business, of course, but I think your father's colors would go beautifully with this dark wood."

He addresses Trouble, so he at least looks like he's deferring to them, but he knows they'd walk out of here if Tommy said the quality was bad. It's nice to be taken seriously.

[oohforeshadowing]

They would. And Tommy's endorsement is encouraging.

"I'll have a copy of the Duchy's seal sent to you," they tell the coachmaker. "The buggy, I'll leave in your hands, but I liked the second drawing you showed me, for the carriage."

A relatively simple exterior, but more luxurious inside.

"How soon can you have initial designs and colours ready to show me?"

The coachmaker is quick to reassure them that they can work quickly for such a commission, and if they return the following month there'll have everything necessary before building work can begin. Trouble signs a contract promising a generous deposit so work can begin, and before long they're heading back out into a thankfully drier street.

[bleak_midwinter]

"Nice to see a real craftsman at work," Tommy muses. "I can do repairs and some basics, but this is practically an art."

He helps them sidestep a big puddle, then a huge pile of horseshit, before adding: "And thank you for taking me along."

And listening to him. Things may have been alright with their father, but he never really listened.

[oohforeshadowing]

"Thank you for your counsel," they demur. "I'm not going to pretend to knowledge I don't have, in these areas. Now. Do you happen of a good tack merchant based here? There are some things I need."

Odd for them to be shopping for equestrian gear when they can't even ride.

[bleak_midwinter]

"I - yes, of course?"

Of course. He turns on his heel and takes them West instead of North, heading down a few streets to his preferred spot for really good gear. He's only been once or twice, and never for his own gear, which he just gets from the village merchant.

"It's pricey, but it was your father's preferred spot, as well as that of many of the jockeys in the area. What do you need, exactly?"

[oohforeshadowing]

"Mm. A hobble or two, a crop. Some harnessing, perhaps."

The picture of innocence.

[bleak_midwinter]

He opens his mouth, closes it, then clears his throat. The only shame is that they'll have to wait until they've bought it to try them out. He's no innocent waif, but this kind of opportunity doesn't come along often.

"You're going to be learning how to ride, Your Grace? It'll serve you well in the country."

[oohforeshadowing]

"I agree. Is there anything else I ought to shop for?" they wonder, casting him a glittering sidelong glance. "In the pursuit of my education, of course."

[bleak_midwinter]

He licks his lips, the only sign that this is affecting him.

"A bit, a longer whip for more range, maybe a lunging line - to teach the animal to obey, and to create a stronger bond between the two of you."

[oohforeshadowing]

Double hadn't expected him to raise the stakes like that - a whip, goodness - and their tail twitches briefly. They think they might need some practice (and a larger space than their suite provides) before using a whip. Even on an actual horse, they'd be cautious. But it's certainly an ambition to work towards.

"Perfect. Thank you, Mr Shelby. We'll shop, have dinner at the hotel, and then we can...begin training?"

[bleak_midwinter]

He gives them a sidelong smile, and adds: "With all that, I'm sure you're going to be quite the authority. Not to be messed about with."

Dinner at the hotel, though - God. At least there's the tack shop before then, which he actually enjoys. He lingers a little too long by a particular saddle, which has nothing to do with his sexual proclivities and everything to do with the fact that he actually loves horses and riding and good-looking material. He gives advice on some of the material (which leather would work best for the crop and the harnesses, the material and size of the bit, the length of the whip - he recommends them one that looks like a crop, a stiff handle but with a longer line on it that can be thrown), then carries their bags for them after they've paid for the materials that are readily available. Some will have to be made and picked up the day after, but they've got most of what they needed now.

"...I think the hotel might object to my presence at your dinner table, Your Grace," he comments, preemptively, while they walk.

[oohforeshadowing]

Double orders a saddle as well, to be delivered on completion. Thomas seemed to like it, and they've decided they enjoy indulging him.

"That sounds like it's their problem, not ours," they say, waving a hand - but then they glance at him. Maybe Tommy has some insecurities of his own about dining with gentry. "That being said, we have a perfectly nice table in the suite. Food can be sent up to us."

[bleak_midwinter]

The problem is that he doesn't like pretending. He doesn't like pretending that they're better than him, he doesn't like acting like he's simple, he doesn't like playing at being Trouble's lowly servant in a serious way.

"Whichever you prefer. If you wish to eat in the dining hall I could join you, or have a meal on my own in the servant quarters."

[oohforeshadowing]

"Neither. I don't like eating alone in dining rooms and I don't feel like making any friends today," they say, with exaggerated haughtiness. "We'll have dinner sent up."

Nobody to observe; no pretence necessary.

[bleak_midwinter]

"Very well, Your Grace."

He looks carefully relieved not to have to pretend at anything, and to not be surrounded by people who treat him like he's less. And this time, when they get into the magically powered elevator, he doesn't move a muscle.

[oohforeshadowing]

Double lets Thomas go up ahead, then tells the hotel staff that they're expecting deliveries the following day. They also request that their evening meals are sent upstairs - along with some sweet things and whiskey for later on. However odd their arrangements might seem, the staff are far too flawlessly polite to even voice confusion.

Back in the suite, they close the door at their back with a pleased sigh, then pull a couple of pins from their long hair to shake down the yellow-blonde curls.

"Quite a productive day, I think."

[bleak_midwinter]

He looks at them as they do that, enjoying the sight. Their hair color goes so beautifully with their skin color, it fascinates him.

"Very productive indeed. I've laid your purchases out on the dresser."

All in a row, on the other side of this door. "I ought to freshen up for dinner, after the journey."

[oohforeshadowing]

"An excellent idea, darling. Ah - there'll be glyphs for hot and cold water. The glyph for heat is rounded, the cold is more angular."

But they'll let him discover the rest for himself while they take a seat and start unfastening their boots.

[bleak_midwinter]

He's no valet, so he leaves them to their clothing even though he'd quite like to look at them undress. Hot water - god, when does he ever bathe with hot water?

Even better: there's hot water coming out of pipes, through a spray in the wall. He loses himself in there for a good ten minutes before apparently realizing how long he's been gone for, and only then reluctantly turns the water off and gets out to let them have a turn. He's warm all over, his skin a little red from the heat, his hair slicked back out of his face. It's glorious.

[oohforeshadowing]

Double has barely undressed - shoes, stockings, jacket - but they look up to admire him when he emerges.

"Enjoy the facilities? You look like you had a nice time in there."

Honestly they just want to push him down and start testing out their new tools.

[bleak_midwinter]

"I've never had a bath like this. Have you? I feel reborn."

He still sounds a little stunned, which is a new look for him. What's also new is the towel that he has wrapped around his hips. What they felt before becomes evident now: his strong legs, his broad shoulders, his strong waist. His work is all physical, and he spends most days hauling, carrying, lifting, riding.

[oohforeshadowing]

"On occasion, at places like this," they murmur, coming a little closer for further inspection. "I can spend hours in water that warm. It's wonderful. Maybe I'll make those changes to the house that Papa never got around to?"

They delicately trace the shape of his bicep with a fingernail, following a drop of water as it trails over his skin.

[bleak_midwinter]

He shivers, looking at their sharp nail, enjoying the timbre of their voice.

"You ought to - if it's possible, why not?"

[oohforeshadowing]

"Why not indeed."

They withdraw their hand with a reluctant sigh.

"I'm going to wash up myself. Please put some clothes on or I won't be held responsible for the consequences."