Travel hopefully in life.

"Mam means well," Mary says as they go, "she really does. She's just a bit up to high doh about, well, everything really." She huffs a small, embarrassed chuckle.

"It's no trouble," Alan is quick to assure her. "It comes as a pleasant change, to tell it true. The journey has been none too kind, so far. We'll gladly suffer a bit of fuss well intended."

Mary turns just far enough to peer over her shoulder, faint pink rising in her cheeks as she smiles gratefully at Alan and says, "You're a man of great patience to say so."

Davie's fair tempted to roll his eyes. The last thing they need while they're trying to escape notice is a pretty young maid tripping over her skirts after Alan, but he can't say he blames her. Even looking like he's been dragged through every thicket of heather and gorse from here to Inverness, Alan Breck Stewart cuts a dashing figure.

Mary steps onto the landing and leads them most of the way down another hall, to a door two from the end.

"We've only the one room available, I'm afraid," she says, rifling through the keys on her ring until she finds the one she's looking for and sticks in the lock. "We were beset upon by tradesmen only last night. Some sort of gathering in Dalkeith, I take it." She gives the key a twist and swings the door open, stepping to the side so Alan and Davie can shuffle by.

The room is humble by civilized standards, just a pair of narrow straw mattresses on low frames and a mirrored cabinet for washing, but it's miles better than most of the places they've stayed these last weeks.

Mary stands in the doorway for a moment, tangling her fingers together as she explains, "It's 6 pence for the room, and then another shilling apiece if ye'll be wanting a hot meal. If ye've clothes in need of washing, we've a cart to the laundress every morning and afternoon. Just leave yer things in the basket behind the door and set it in the hall. There's a basin on the cabinet for washing, and I expect Mam'll send Jamie up with a fresh bucket for ye presently."

"Thank you most kindly, Mistress Mary," Alan says. He sweeps a shallow bow, because Alan has never met an opportunity to grandstand that he didn't embrace wholeheartedly, and offers her a smile. This time, Davie does roll his eyes. "We're in your debt."

"Oh," Mary flushes prettily, waving a hand, "not at all, Mister, uh…" She trails off, face flaring redder as she realizes she never asked their names.

"Thompson," Alan provides without hesitation. He steps over to Davie and clasps a hand to his shoulder, adding, "And this is my dear friend, Mr. Shaw."

Davie cuts Alan a sharp look out of the corner of his eye and Alan has the audacity to wink at him, the gallus bastard.

"Well, Mr. Thompson, Mr. Shaw," Mary says, curtsying at them each in turn, "if ye'll be needing anything in the meantime, ye only need pop down to the kitchen." She favors Alan with one more smile, eyes sparkling, and swings the door shut on a polite, "I'll give ye leave, then."

Davie waits another beat to ensure she's well out of earshot and then reaches over and shoves Alan, who stumbles away, laughing.

CURRENTLY WORKING

Fever 'Til You Sizzle: 3601 3644 words
(Toynere sex pollen)

Yet Untitled Webgott Dracula fusion AU: 983 1753 words
(Webgott, missed the Spook Me deadline and have turned it into more of a fusion)

DDSherman Exchange: plotted, need to start writing
(Joke's on you, I'm not giving deets)

Yuletide Exchange: not started, need to re-engage with source media for character voice, etc.
(Likewise, not giving deets)

Spicy Advent: prompt received, idea solidified, need to write
(Prompt is "when I say dancing")

Sledgefu fill for LLSS prompt "lipstick": 542 words
(Basically exactly what it says on the tin)

Soft!Snafu Sledgefu fill for LLSS: 3715 words
(Nearly finished, just needs a hit of inspiration to bust through the last bit)

Head High Into the Wild: 1617 words
(Don/Bible Fury fandom fill for Historium Bingo square "job")


WRITTEN SINCE LAST WIPLIST

I'll Love You Well
6192 words, genderplay Sledgefu fill

Careful Application of External Pressure
Grimm fandom, Nick/Monroe canon divergence, updated with chapter 5

“How’s that, then?” Sean grinned when he was finished. He let the hand clutching the washcloth fall to his side with a wet plop and trailed the fingertips of the other down the slick surface of his chest, through the sodden spray of red hair stuck dark to his pale skin. He flattened his palm out over the plane of his belly when he reached his navel and pushed on under the water.

Even with the moon gleaming like a newly-minted coin overhead, there wasn’t quite enough light to see what Sean was doing. Not that he was being particularly coy about it, with the way he bit his lip and let his head fall back a little, breath hitching as the tendons in his forearm flexed.

“Tidy enough for your fine sensibilities, there, English?”

muccamukk

“You don’t look so good,” Bill agreed. He gave Joe’s shoulder an absent, experimental squeeze, bare thumb brushing feather light against the warm column of Joe’s neck.

Joe choked back a low whimper and screwed his eyes shut.

“Fuck,” he snarled, shrugging Bill’s hand off and pressing his mouth into a flat, miserable line. He mopped his brow with the back of his glove and cracked his eyes open just enough to shoot a worried glare in Bill’s direction. “Somethin’ funny in those Kraut shells, Bill.”