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storypaint) wrote2009-01-07 02:52 pm
storypaint) wrote2009-01-07 02:52 pm
Riposte (Layton/Claire)
Title: Riposte
Length: 1223 words
Prompt: Professor Layton (Anon) Fan Meme: Layton x Claire, but Claire (who is really a woman) disguised as a guy because of society/tsundere/tomboy issues.
Pairing: Layton/Claire
Other: crossdressing
Excerpt: If Clairence had been a woman, Hershel might have proposed; as it were, they spent every available waking hour together fencing with sticks, solving puzzles, and picking holes in their Natural Philosophy class theories.
The first time Hershel met Clairence was at the wrong end of the other's sword.
"Point," Clairence said, his voice muffled by his mask, and Hershel frowned. He wasn't a boastful boy, but he prided himself on his fencing; he was one of the top swordsmen in the school. So he dropped back into stance and proceded to have his butt kicked roundly by the stranger.
After demolishing all of Hershel's defenses easily, though politely, the other boy offered his hand, using the other to remove his mask. He had a round face and little square glasses, and a very cheerful smile.
"I'm Clairence," he said. "Good match, Mr..."
"Layton," Hershel replied hastily, "er, but Hershel is fine. Nice technique."
"Thanks," Clairence replied. "You're not so bad yourself."
Layton smiled, and in the way of boys, a friendship was born.
*
Clairence was a mid-semester transfer to the boarding school Hershel attended, a stuffy all-boys academy in the British countryside. It was a place that the gentry sent their children, and Clairence was certainly well-mannered, but he wasn't aristocratic at all.
"Just lucky," he told Hershel with a laugh. "My grandfather left me a scholarship before he died."
Clairence's parents were dead too, but he didn't seem too upset about it. Hershel hesitated to ask the circumstances, but Clairence told him they'd died when he was a little boy.
"It's always just been Grandpa and me," he said, lost in memories. "He was always knee-deep in some new scientific discovery, and he left me to myself most of the time."
Sometimes Hershel felt like his life had been planned out for him since the moment of his birth. Even his winter breaks were busy. He felt lucky that he was the younger brother, in fact; Christopher had already been taken out of school to complete his education as the inheritor of their estate. As a second son, he was allowed to continue and hopefully find somewhere harmless to root-- as clergy, for a preference, but Hershel already knew at fifteen that his interests lay elsewhere.
He was interested in the deep past; Clairence was interested in the far future. It was a wonder they got along so well, but they certainly did.
"Besides practicing your fencing..." Hershel said, rolling his eyes, because their first meeting was repeated more often than not-- Clairence was quite advanced at fencing, "what else did you do?"
"Puzzles," the boy said, grinning and adjusting his glasses.
*
If Clairence had been a woman, Hershel might have proposed; as it were, they spent every available waking hour together fencing with sticks, solving puzzles, and picking holes in their Natural Philosophy class theories. Since Clairence had no family, Hershel dragged him home with him for Christmas, and he didn't even mind midnight Mass so much with Clairence in the pew next to him, whispering hilarious things about the priest. Life was perfect until the last day before term began again. Hershel was summoned to his father's study for one last talk before they left.
"You shouldn't spend so much time with that boy," Layton Sr. said gruffly, without any warning. Hershel gaped. He'd never had a friend at school before, and he was quite enjoying it.
"Father?" he said, his voice shaky, and the man nodded.
"'S not right. I've seen you whispering at each other. God knows what else. I won't have people thinking things about my children."
"What things?" Hershel ventured. His father bit down hard on the end of his cigar.
"Bad things," he said.
"Is it because Clairence isn't a gentleman? Because Christopher has a friend--"
"It's not that," his father said, and then his voice was gentle. "It's just not proper for two boys to be alone together so much. You'd think you were married."
"Father, I--"
"I know nothing's going on. You're going into the clergy after all, it wouldn't matter."
Hershel stared down at his knobbly knees, trying not to cry. Finally he burst out, "I'm not going to be a priest!"
"Oh?" his father said, smashing the cigar end and staring at his younger son. "And what are you going to do?"
"I'm going to be a professor," he said in a very small voice. His father considered for a heart-stopping moment. Hershel bit his lip. Finally the man nodded.
"It's not a bad choice either. I'll allow it," he said easily. "But remember what I told you about that boy."
"Yes, sir," Hershel mumbled into his knees, and then he was allowed to go.
*
"So, it's my father really and I don't think it makes any sense and it really, really is terrible and I don't know what to say," Hershel said, staring into his lap again. He couldn't look up and see Clairence's face. The carriage was heavy with quiet.
"I see," the other boy said after a moment. "Well. I'll see you in fencing, I suppose."
Hershel looked up and met Clairence's too-casual gaze.
"Yes, okay," he said, swallowing the lump in his throat, and they didn't talk for the rest of the ride back to the school.
*
Hershel was an obedient son, as much as his soul ached for Clairence's particular companionship. He finally got an older boy to explain the whole thing to him, and the idea of two boys... like that... with each other... upset him so much that he didn't speak to Clairence for a week, even in fencing practice.
He couldn't admit it to himself, even a little bit, that something like that... that he could be...
He missed Clairence.
It was almost a relief when the other boy didn't come back the next year. Problem solved. He wouldn't have to think about it anymore.
*
It was nearly seven years before he met Clairence again, under decidedly different circumstances. He couldn't figure what was so familiar about the willowy female scientist who'd come in to consult about the ancient skull, not until the light was right one evening as she bent over her work, and she pushed her glasses back up on her nose.
"What... what was your name, ma'am?" he asked before he could stop himself, and the woman set her tools down and met his eyes seriously.
"Claire," she said, smiling. And then, "I bet I can still fence better than you."
An explanation was certainly in order-- Hershel couldn't even begin to unravel that story-- but he felt such utter relief that he couldn't breathe for a long moment. That's what it had been-- if Claire was really female-- and it wasn't wrong then--
And he-- she was still-- Clairence: good at puzzles and fascinated with the natural world and able to converse on any number of intellectual subjects. Hershel still thought about his old schoolmate once in a while, always with a tinge of regret for losing track of him. Now he was here. Now he was her. There couldn't be a better resolution.
"I'd like to take you to dinner," he said, tripping over himself to get the words out, and Claire smiled.
"I'd like that," she said. "We have a lot to catch up on."
"We certainly do," Hershel said.
She looked back down at the skull, a small flush crossing her cheeks, and Hershel's grin grew wider. He was already counting the hours until dinner.
Length: 1223 words
Prompt: Professor Layton (Anon) Fan Meme: Layton x Claire, but Claire (who is really a woman) disguised as a guy because of society/tsundere/tomboy issues.
Pairing: Layton/Claire
Other: crossdressing
Excerpt: If Clairence had been a woman, Hershel might have proposed; as it were, they spent every available waking hour together fencing with sticks, solving puzzles, and picking holes in their Natural Philosophy class theories.
The first time Hershel met Clairence was at the wrong end of the other's sword.
"Point," Clairence said, his voice muffled by his mask, and Hershel frowned. He wasn't a boastful boy, but he prided himself on his fencing; he was one of the top swordsmen in the school. So he dropped back into stance and proceded to have his butt kicked roundly by the stranger.
After demolishing all of Hershel's defenses easily, though politely, the other boy offered his hand, using the other to remove his mask. He had a round face and little square glasses, and a very cheerful smile.
"I'm Clairence," he said. "Good match, Mr..."
"Layton," Hershel replied hastily, "er, but Hershel is fine. Nice technique."
"Thanks," Clairence replied. "You're not so bad yourself."
Layton smiled, and in the way of boys, a friendship was born.
*
Clairence was a mid-semester transfer to the boarding school Hershel attended, a stuffy all-boys academy in the British countryside. It was a place that the gentry sent their children, and Clairence was certainly well-mannered, but he wasn't aristocratic at all.
"Just lucky," he told Hershel with a laugh. "My grandfather left me a scholarship before he died."
Clairence's parents were dead too, but he didn't seem too upset about it. Hershel hesitated to ask the circumstances, but Clairence told him they'd died when he was a little boy.
"It's always just been Grandpa and me," he said, lost in memories. "He was always knee-deep in some new scientific discovery, and he left me to myself most of the time."
Sometimes Hershel felt like his life had been planned out for him since the moment of his birth. Even his winter breaks were busy. He felt lucky that he was the younger brother, in fact; Christopher had already been taken out of school to complete his education as the inheritor of their estate. As a second son, he was allowed to continue and hopefully find somewhere harmless to root-- as clergy, for a preference, but Hershel already knew at fifteen that his interests lay elsewhere.
He was interested in the deep past; Clairence was interested in the far future. It was a wonder they got along so well, but they certainly did.
"Besides practicing your fencing..." Hershel said, rolling his eyes, because their first meeting was repeated more often than not-- Clairence was quite advanced at fencing, "what else did you do?"
"Puzzles," the boy said, grinning and adjusting his glasses.
*
If Clairence had been a woman, Hershel might have proposed; as it were, they spent every available waking hour together fencing with sticks, solving puzzles, and picking holes in their Natural Philosophy class theories. Since Clairence had no family, Hershel dragged him home with him for Christmas, and he didn't even mind midnight Mass so much with Clairence in the pew next to him, whispering hilarious things about the priest. Life was perfect until the last day before term began again. Hershel was summoned to his father's study for one last talk before they left.
"You shouldn't spend so much time with that boy," Layton Sr. said gruffly, without any warning. Hershel gaped. He'd never had a friend at school before, and he was quite enjoying it.
"Father?" he said, his voice shaky, and the man nodded.
"'S not right. I've seen you whispering at each other. God knows what else. I won't have people thinking things about my children."
"What things?" Hershel ventured. His father bit down hard on the end of his cigar.
"Bad things," he said.
"Is it because Clairence isn't a gentleman? Because Christopher has a friend--"
"It's not that," his father said, and then his voice was gentle. "It's just not proper for two boys to be alone together so much. You'd think you were married."
"Father, I--"
"I know nothing's going on. You're going into the clergy after all, it wouldn't matter."
Hershel stared down at his knobbly knees, trying not to cry. Finally he burst out, "I'm not going to be a priest!"
"Oh?" his father said, smashing the cigar end and staring at his younger son. "And what are you going to do?"
"I'm going to be a professor," he said in a very small voice. His father considered for a heart-stopping moment. Hershel bit his lip. Finally the man nodded.
"It's not a bad choice either. I'll allow it," he said easily. "But remember what I told you about that boy."
"Yes, sir," Hershel mumbled into his knees, and then he was allowed to go.
*
"So, it's my father really and I don't think it makes any sense and it really, really is terrible and I don't know what to say," Hershel said, staring into his lap again. He couldn't look up and see Clairence's face. The carriage was heavy with quiet.
"I see," the other boy said after a moment. "Well. I'll see you in fencing, I suppose."
Hershel looked up and met Clairence's too-casual gaze.
"Yes, okay," he said, swallowing the lump in his throat, and they didn't talk for the rest of the ride back to the school.
*
Hershel was an obedient son, as much as his soul ached for Clairence's particular companionship. He finally got an older boy to explain the whole thing to him, and the idea of two boys... like that... with each other... upset him so much that he didn't speak to Clairence for a week, even in fencing practice.
He couldn't admit it to himself, even a little bit, that something like that... that he could be...
He missed Clairence.
It was almost a relief when the other boy didn't come back the next year. Problem solved. He wouldn't have to think about it anymore.
*
It was nearly seven years before he met Clairence again, under decidedly different circumstances. He couldn't figure what was so familiar about the willowy female scientist who'd come in to consult about the ancient skull, not until the light was right one evening as she bent over her work, and she pushed her glasses back up on her nose.
"What... what was your name, ma'am?" he asked before he could stop himself, and the woman set her tools down and met his eyes seriously.
"Claire," she said, smiling. And then, "I bet I can still fence better than you."
An explanation was certainly in order-- Hershel couldn't even begin to unravel that story-- but he felt such utter relief that he couldn't breathe for a long moment. That's what it had been-- if Claire was really female-- and it wasn't wrong then--
And he-- she was still-- Clairence: good at puzzles and fascinated with the natural world and able to converse on any number of intellectual subjects. Hershel still thought about his old schoolmate once in a while, always with a tinge of regret for losing track of him. Now he was here. Now he was her. There couldn't be a better resolution.
"I'd like to take you to dinner," he said, tripping over himself to get the words out, and Claire smiled.
"I'd like that," she said. "We have a lot to catch up on."
"We certainly do," Hershel said.
She looked back down at the skull, a small flush crossing her cheeks, and Hershel's grin grew wider. He was already counting the hours until dinner.