Archive of Our Own

When Francis woke, the room was spinning. He screwed his eyes shut as he rubbed them with a groan.

Then: a knock at the door, a polite cough, a quiet “Frank?”

It was Ann’s voice, and probably wasn’t the first time she’d knocked. He was in the guest bedroom at Eliot Place then. He could feel the way the particular heaviness of the blankets which Ann had her housemaid pile on in a a way he did not have elsewhere.  Could feel the way the light spilled in through from gaps in the curtain from the right rather than the left. He allowed his eyes to adjust, and opened them to gaze over at the small clock on the mantle. Far later than was polite to rise in a house that wasn’t your own.

He cleared his throat.

“Aye. Sorry. Good Morning Ann. If you’re still there?”

“I’m still here.”

“Did you… need anything?” Francis said, brow furrowing as he realised that Ann herself had come to wake him.

“Might I come in? I bring breakfast. Tea.”

Francis sat up quickly at this, eyes sweeping down his own front. He found his appearance wanting.

“Oh you needn’t have done that for me.”

“You know well I did not make this myself. I’m simply delivering.”

“I’m not…” He cleared his throat again, trying to rid the incessant rasp of his hangover. “I’m not decent.”

“Decent, psh. I think we’re past all that Frank. Just stay in the bed and I’ll be in and out in a flash.”

Francis did pause to pull the bedclothes up to his chin, feeling ridiculous. He couldn’t exactly turn the woman away now.

“All right.”

“All right? I’m coming in.”

She appeared as if bathed in sunlight, streaming in from the hallway, pastel dress and hair as immaculate as ever. After meeting her smile with an attempt at one, Francis felt himself having to avert his gaze. It (she) was too bright.

“Hello.”

“Hello.”

“Here you go.” She carried a tray which she laid over Francis’s lap, hovering a moment before taking a step back.

“Thank you.” There was awkward pause as Francis eyed the tea pot.

“Are you well Frank?”

“Oh just a head ache, you know.”

He saw her eyes narrow. The three of them been indulging together last night. She seemed to be in a much fitter state than he.

“There’s something there that might help.”

She gestured toward a headache powder and a glass of something suspiciously murky. Some sort of home remedy.

“That was kind of you.”

She smiled ruefully. “I need to go out for a few hours but James should be back soon. Please stay as long as you like.”

When James had asked Francis to stay; he’d been surprised. James had written barely a month after his wedding day, the couple only just settled into their new home, insisting Francis needed to visit them to “get to know Ann better” on their return to London. It had felt oddly formal. Francis had expected to visit Eliot Place anyway, and found the invitation actually made him more cautious in attending. He’d answered that he knew Ann well, wondering why James would mention it at all, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He knew that Francis had no sort of legitimate excuse for not visiting while he was on land. It wasn’t as if he were married.

He eyed the suspicious looking remedy and poured some tea instead. Poked at a bread roll and felt his stomach both rumble and disagree as he watched the space from which Ann had disappeared.

The past few days of his visit had felt as if they’d become trapped in a false intimacy.

It was all terribly polite and pleasant, but spending time with Ann and James was nothing like it had felt to spend time with James in their younger years or even with the pair of them prior to the marriage. The politeness was precisely the problem. Could one both adore and resent a person? Because Francis felt he adored Ann, and adored the way James adored her, but he couldn’t help but resent what her presence meant for his friendship with James. Couldn’t help but resent what she represented, both in James’s settling down, and in Francis’s lack of marriage.

Seeing them together in their new home, able to proudly display their affection in a way they hadn’t during their courtship, was as joyful as it was upsetting.

And it was this that he hated more than anything; it wasn’t so much the resentment itself but the utter shame he felt for feeling resentful of such a loving woman, who had never shown him anything but kindness, and who knew nothing of the pain she caused. He was embarrassed to be in her presence. He was embarrassed to think that his feelings may well be written all over his face.

He took his time in rising and dressing, ensuring that Ann had departed by the time he emerged from the guest room into the midday light. It only slightly impacted his ailing head. The house was empty bar the servants. He returned his breakfast tray to the kitchen, picked at the morning papers, stood over his travelling case and considered whether to leave or not. But by the time he’d dithered over the decision, returning to the sitting room he heard the front door. He knew it was James from down the hall just by the sound of his tread. He poked his head through the doorway.

“Frank! Why are you hiding away in there?”

“I wasn’t hiding.”

“In here on such a beautiful day!” James gestured dramatically as he placed his hat on its stand.

“If you’d like me to leave Jim, you ought to just tell me so.”

James laughed at Francis’s wry smile. “Now now, you won’t get away that easy. Have you got Ann in there with you?”

“No she had to step out for a few hours.”

“Of course.” James tapped his head as if in his own forgetfulness as he joined Francis. “Did you not wish to join her?”

“She—” He was brought up short. He didn’t want to say she hadn’t offered as that sounded flippant. He also didn’t want to imply that James’s bride was bad company. “I did not want to offer my company where it wasn’t wanted or needed. I did not wish to pry.”

“No matter,” James said as if nonchalant, but Francis knew him better than that as he grasped Francis’s shoulder and passed by into the room. “She’d just mentioned to me this morning that she was planning to drag you along, is all.”

Oh. “Well now I feel rotten. I… did not rise until late, and only after Ann prompted me. I didn’t realise she wanted company, in my pathetic state.”

James grinned as he fell back into one of the sofas. Francis had to avert his gaze from the whole display.

He knew James was no longer his to look at; never had been his to look at. Perhaps he’d gotten carried away for a little while, back when James would look at him too, but now he was on his best behaviour.

James was hardly helping matters as they sat and he recounted his morning animatedly.

He’d grown his hair longer in recent years. Perhaps something Ann liked. Francis was not immune to it himself, but then he’d like James just the same with short hair. Fine lines were becoming more pronounced on his face, but Francis just saw them as proof of his expressive nature and tendency to laughter. And not that the man had ever lacked confidence as long as Francis had known him, but it had relaxed from boyish brashness into an unshakable surety.

The total affect was overwhelming.

Francis knew he’d just been asked a question.

“Hm?” He said, meeting James’s eye for the first time.

“Am I really that boring old man?” If only that were the problem.

“Never.”

“And yet you have no questions about my encounter with the swan?”

“A swan?”

“See if you’d been listening you’d know exactly what I meant.”

“I doubt you listen when I go on monologues that take up a quarter of the hour either Jim.”

“Quite to the contrary.” Francis felt paralysed by James’s smug expression.

“You know your charm doesn’t work on me as it does others.” He coughed out. A lie.

“Shall we see about some luncheon?” James said, swiftly ignoring his comment. “I believe Ann’s dining out.”

“Only if it’s not too much trouble.”

James rolled his eyes. “The more you imply that you’re causing us trouble, the more you do.”

“Fine. But then I should leave after luncheon.”

“But I’ve yet to show you my notes on the readings I took up in Scotland! And then I was thinking we could take a walk this afternoon, perhaps?”

“I could be persuaded.”

The afternoon walk was less so a walk than a leisurely stretch of the legs, before slipping inside James’s local public house, The Hare and Billet.

The sun was setting over Blackheath, and the gentle hum of noise and soft light from inside proved too inviting.

They found a small table under a window, drank ale, and soon got to reminiscing about old times. Francis felt more relaxed than he had done for the entirety of his visit.

When they wandered back out on to the heath it was dark.

“Jim!” He called after him, “Your house is that way you fool.”

“I am simply enjoying this beautiful evening!” He slurred, venturing out amongst the brush, one arm aloft.

“It’s not even warm.” Francis chuckled, wiggling deeper into his coat.

“Says a man who has not so recently returned from furthest South! Come.”

“Well when you put it so, I suppose it’s rather mild.” Francis was helpless in following him.

Francis’s belly felt warm with the ale, knew that he’d matched James drink for drink, but that he could stomach it better than his friend.

He caught up to James who kept bumping their shoulders together as he swayed. He considered holding the man up but resisted. Didn’t know if be could handle touching the man with his judgement so impaired.

“See this was pleasant. Isn’t it pleasant? I knew you didn’t really want to leave me.”

“I never want to leave you Jim.”

“But you’ve been so eager to get away.”

“I simply wish not to outstay my welcome.”

“Well that’s impossible, you know you’re dear to me.”

“But you’re married now.” James shot him a look at the emphasis on the word, knew he’d caught his intention even in his inebriated state.

“That shouldn’t mean things must change between us.”

Never mind that, James was speaking nonsense. “Is one not supposed to leave a couple to their newlywed bliss?”

Francis could almost hear James roll his eyes as he abruptly came to a halt. “You simply aren’t paying attention Frank.”

Francis stopped turning to face him. “What on God’s earth does that mean?”

And then James’s cold hands were on his warm cheeks and he kissed him.

Francis’s immediate reaction was panic. They were out in the open. Exposed for anyone to see. It was too reckless. But then he realised that not only was it dark, but that James had walked them behind a tree. Not quite as inebriated as he seemed. perhaps.

His next was a warm fluttering in the belly and a sharp intake of breath as he allowed his hands to settle familiarly on James’s forearms, and his mouth to open to the kiss. Oh, how often had he thought of the last time they’d kissed. How he’d thought it would be the last time. 

It was in that pure moment of joy that Francis allowed himself to be backed up against the tree, James’s thumbs rubbing over his cheekbones, his chest pushing against Francis’s own as he felt hard bark at his back. It was this that snapped him awake.

“James.” He said in warning.

James brought their mouths back together with more fervour. Francis could feel a panic rising in his throat. When James finally moved his face back, opening his eyes to meet Francis’s he looked flushed and smiling.

“Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

James simply took his mouth to Francis’s neck, lips warm and soft.

“James!” Francis gasped before shoving him away with harsh hands.

The smile was finally wiped from James’s face. “Frank, did I hurt you?”

“What are you doing?”

“What did you think I was doing!”

“You’re being cruel.”

“Cruel?”

Frank rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Do not make me lay it out so plainly.” 

“I thought—“

“I’d never disrespect Ann in that manner nor the covenant between you.”

“I would never—“

“You rub your own happy marriage in my face, a man who has failed to marry—“

“Frank—“ James stepped forward again, a hand reaching for Francis’s shoulder.

“No.” Francis dodged his hand stepping away from James and the cover of the tree. His heart thumped hard in his chest.

James took a step away, putting his hands in the air. “It’s all right.”

“Just… leave me be.” Francis said harshly, taking a few more steps back.

“I’m sorry Frank I shouldn’t have sprung that upon you.”

“I think I’ll see if I can find a coach willing to take me back at the inn.”

“Don’t go, it’s late. At least stay tonight.”

“I don’t know if I should.” He couldn’t look at him.

“Please, I insist. You can take to your room without seeing me for the rest of the night.”

“Fine.”

They walked back to the Rosses’ home in silence, a few paces apart. Francis hated that he could still feel James’s lips and hands in every place they’d touched. It was that he’d enjoyed it that made it worse than anything.

He preceded James up the steps, slipping past the inquisitive housemate who’d opened the door and straight up the stairs. When he reached the landing he could hear James’s muffled voice speaking below, and Ann’s reply. She must have been waiting for them. He felt his stomach churn.

When he reached the guest room he shut the door behind him and slumped against it, letting out a heavy sigh. He didn’t know why he’d thought age or marriage would stop him from being led astray by James Clark Ross, but apparently he was just as weak willed as he’d been in his youth, as he’d been in the south; as he’d been since they first met.

A worse man could blame James, the married one of their pair, but Francis knew his dear friend pitied him in his sorry state and simply wanted to give him some cheer.

When the three of them sat for breakfast the next morning James looked even worse than Francis felt. Or as bad as James could look, in a roguishly hungover sort of way.

“…And well, I do keep saying we must take Frank to see Aston Abbott, but I think he may need some persuading. Oh mustn’t we bring him James?”

“Indeed.”

“Please do persuade him. Especially once summer’s returned, the grounds are truly a sight to behold!”

Ann’s delightful morning chatter was met with affirmative humming, the scrape of cutlery and polite chewing from the two men as Frank did everything he could to avoid looking at James. He wasn’t too keen to meet kind Ann’s eye either. He feared the guilt would be too much.

“Well enough of that. What were your plans for this morning dear?”

“Oh… well,” James cleared his throat, “As you might recall, I need to pay a visit to the Admiralty.”

“The Admiralty? In what regard?” Francis responded so instinctually he forgot he’d barely spoken a word thus far.

“I need to meet with my Uncle.”

“Sir John?”

“Don’t sound so disgusted.”

“It’s not disgust, merely surprise.”

“I was equally surprised when he asked to see me.”

“Maybe he means to make amends between you?” Ann added optimistically.

“That’s what I assumed.”

“Good luck.” Francis scoffed.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence.”

They finished their meals quietly, passing occasional pleasantries.

James pushed his chair back abruptly, adjusting his coat as he stood. “Will you two be… content for a few hours?” He directed this to Ann with some emphasis.

“Oh I think we’ll be perfectly fine, won’t we Frank?”

“Of course.”

“I may be gone a while.”

“Perfect dear, we need you out of our hair.” Ann smiled.

James smiled back.

Francis furrowed his brow.

He spent the first part of the morning avoiding Ann. Christ, he didn’t deserve her gracious hosting skills.

He didn’t deserve her offers of kindness or invitation to another of her homes. Not when her husband had kissed him the night before and he’d enjoyed it. Had taken more than a moment before pushing the man off.

She didn’t know of their past either, couldn’t do, with the welcome she’d always shown. She thought Francis was just James’s close friend, his shipmate, his second in command. If she did suspect anything else he assumed she was taking the wise decision of ignoring it.

He spent a not so inconsiderable amount of time standing over his case like he had done the previous day before deciding to catch up on his correspondence at the little desk in his guest room.

Before he knew it an hour had passed where he’d thought of things other than James, or Ann, or James and Ann, and he sighed as he realised he had no-one else he needed to write.

He took the letters downstairs to be posted and listened to the clock hand tick in the hall as he eyed the open rear door warily. He stepped out into the garden to find Ann reading her book under a parasol on the veranda.

“Frank, dear. Would you like to join me?”

“All right.”

He padded over to her slowly, taking a seat in the neighbouring chair. There were a few moment’s silence.

“You know you’re welcome to any of the books you’d like. I know James mentioned some he thought you might like in the library…”

“Yes he showed me them thank you. I’m well for now just enjoying the scenery.” He looked up at the blue sky as if demonstrating.

Ann looked down at her book again for a few moments and then back at Francis.
“James has given me this book on the magnetic poles. I thought I’d read up on the topic so I might know more of what the two of you speak, however now I feel as if I know even less than when I begun.”

“It’s a tricky business I suppose. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“I can be a little hard on myself if I cannot grasp something after the first try.”

“Well I know how that feels.” Francis chuckled quietly.

“But you’re such an expert at all this! Don’t you think…” She paused, looking between the page and Francis with a question in her face.

“Did you mean to ask for my… help? With the text.”

“Yes!” She said looking relieved, “It would be so appreciated.”

“Would it not be more suitable for James to assist you with this? He is my superior in both rank and knowledge, and well… your husband.”

“Which is precisely why I do not want him teaching me! He’d only be either too kind or teasing.”

“I understand.”

“Come.” She gestured with a hand.

Francis found himself shifting the chair until it touched Ann’s own, so that he might get a better look at the book. Ann lay it down on the table in front of them.

“Was there anything in particular you were finding difficult?”

“Yes, there was. I’ve made some notes.” She flipped the book over to reveal a journal with neatly written lines in Ann’s hand.

They worked through Ann’s questions and Francis found himself surprised by the way they fell into easy, good-humoured conversation now they were speaking about an area Francis was comfortable with.

He hadn’t even realised that he and Ann had been leaning into each other in such a mAnnr of the book and notes that there knees had pressed together. It felt comfortable. As did Ann grasping his arm as she laughed at something he said.

It was awful really. She didn’t know of Francis’s betrayal.

Once a natural conclusion had drawn on the session, they both stood to stretch their legs.

“I thought we might go for a walk?”

Why did the Rosses keep trying to get him to go on walks?

As if she’d heard his thoughts she spoke again: “I hear the walk yesterday was less so a walk than a sit in the public house.”

“Well you have me there.”

“It will be nice, I promise. We could go up to Greenwich Park?”

“Yes all right.” It wasn’t like he could refuse her.

“I can even see if Betty will make us a picnic lunch!”

Francis insisted on carrying the picnic basket. The day was windier out on the heath than it had seemed in the sheltered garden at Eliot Place, and Ann hooked herself onto his free arm, skirts and coat and bonnet ribbons flapping in the swift breeze.

By the time they stepped within the park’s covered walls Ann was clinging to him with an iron grip, arms firmly interlocked. She found them the tree-covered bench she had in mind and gestured for him to pass the picnic basket.

Francis’s attention was caught by a couple promenading across the verge from them, closely tailed by a chaperone. Their smiles were mischievous.

“Frank. Francis.” He looked down to find Ann had an outstretched hand holding out a parcel of food for him.

“Sorry. Thank you.” He said placing it on his lap primly and beginning to unwrap it. He watched her unwrap her own parcel. They began eating their sandwiches in companionable silence.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why do you call me Frank?”

Ann looked back at him pointedly, placing her sandwich on her lap. “Do you not like it when I do?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I call you Frank because James does.”

“No one else calls me Frank.”

“Would you rather I called you Francis?”

“No. No, I find i rather like it.”

She smiled, surprised. “I’m glad to hear you say that. Francis would feel awfully formal.”

“It is still my Christian name, Ann.”

“I meant that James would tease me terribly if I used it while we were alone.”

“Does my name often come up when you’re alone?”

“Oh yes.” Ann’s eyes met his own, glittering. “We’re both rather taken by you I’m afraid.”

Francis felt himself blush even though he knew she was just being polite.

“Well I’m sure you’ll be positively sick of me by the end of my visit.”

“I know we jest Frank, but I do wish you wouldn’t speak of yourself that way.”

“I—“ Francis was brought up short by Ann’s delicate fingers as they slid into his own palm. He thought she meant to pass him something or perhaps pat him reassuringly once again, but she clasped her palm in his own, setting their joint hands on his knee. He felt increasingly warm.

“And I meant it. I know how fond James has always been of you, and I’ve grown fond of you too.”

“And I’m fond of the both of you.” Francis’s voices croaked.

“I know adjustment can be hard but I don’t mean for things to change between you and James just because we are married now.”

Of course she only said this because she did not know the full truth. “Of course.”

“I know your friendship means a lot to him.”

Friendship. It was like a blow to the knees.

“Shall we dig into this food now?”

By the time they retuned to Eliot Place, it was late into the afternoon and James still wasn’t home.

“Oh I’m sure he’s fine.” Ann waved a hand a little too dismissively as she slid out of her coat. “I’m a little tired so I’m just going to retire to my room for a little while. Will you be—“

“I’ll be fine Ann.” He gave her a smile and she smiled back before sweeping up the stairs.

Francis took to the guest room. He lay down on the bed in his clothes and stared up at the ceiling. He felt his head spinning for an all together different reason than usual.

The two of them sat for dinner a few hours later and Ann spoke animatedly about the opera she’d seen the week before. Francis did his best to keep up and tried not to bring up James or his absence, considering that she hadn’t.

When James did finally reappear it was dark out and Ann and Francis had retired to the drawing room. Ann was playing the piano and Francis noticed James’s figure in the doorway looking on at her proudly. He glanced over at Francis, gesturing with his head smugly as if to say doesn’t she play well. She did.

He snuck across the room and slipped down on the sofa next to Francis.

“Ann really must be feeling upbeat, she won’t play for just anyone.”

“Where have you been?”

“Did I not say this morning? With my Uncle.”

“For ten hours?”

“It was complicated.” He mumbled, avoiding Francis’s gaze. James rarely mumbled.

“What did he want?”

James turned his head, acted like he hadn’t heard. “Have you had pleasant day?”

“Yes, my day was pleasant.” Francis replied tersely. “Ann and I went for a picnic.”

“A picnic! Splendid.”

“Jim, I simply wish, to know if I can be of any help, if there’s any trouble—“

“Ah, I thought I heard your voice dear!” Ann had stoped playing and turned to look at her husband, who leapt from the seat to go to her. He lay both hands to her narrow shoulders, leant down and kissed her bared forehead.

Francis’s stomach somersaulted .

“Frank said you went for a picnic?”

“Yes it was quite a lovely day really. He was also rather helpful me with the book you gave me on the poles.”

Francis couldn’t look away from James’s fingers as they came to rest on the back of Ann’s neck, gently brushing across the skin that emerged from the fabric of her dress.

“I’ve always said he is the more patient teacher than I.”

“Well you’re a quick student Ann.”

“He was very good to me.” The pair of them looked at Francis and he felt himself get hot under the collar at the attention.

“Will you both have whiskey? A toast?” James offered suddenly, moving over to the sideboard.

Francis and Ann both nodded, and James poured them each a drink as Ann came to join him over at the sofa. He stood.

Once they all held a glass, James held his aloft, encouraging them to do the same. “To… Us.”

Ann repeated it cheerily, Francis dubiously, before clinking their glasses together. Taking a drink.

“Oh, James! Did I tell you I heard from Mary at last?”

James rested a hand on the small of Ann’s back as he leant in as she talked about a childhood friend who’d written. Francis felt odd. The three of them were standing close, but he felt like there was a glass wall between them. He was thinking about James’s hand on Ann’s neck, James’s hand on his own cheek. Ann’s hand in his own.

He took another swig from his glass, could hear the Rosses laughing but like it was from far away. Found himself eyeing the way James’s waistcoat fit across his chest, the curve of Ann’s waist. The way both of their eyes sparkled when they looked at each other.

He took another drink until it was empty.

“I think I’ll retire to bed. My head feels queer.” Francis felt as if he’d spoken uncomfortably loud.

They both turned to him at once, concern clear their faces.

“So soon?” James said, while Ann said “Darling, I’m sorry!”

“I think I’m just tired.” He placed his glass down on the side table, edging out of their reach.

“Will you not stay for another? Ann could play a little more for us?”

“I really shouldn’t.”

“No need to push him James, let him get his rest.” Ann closed the gap and rubbed a consolatory hand on Francis’s shoulder. He hated how nice it felt.

“Thank you Ann.”

“Allow me a kiss goodnight?”

Francis’s heart jumped in his throat at the words, but met Ann’s cheek as she leant to kiss him on the left and right side. She smelt of lavender.

Francis eyed James as Ann pulled away. He seemed entirely unfazed. In fact, before Francis knew what was happening James himself was leaning in to kiss his cheek. Then his other. “Good night Frank.”

The moment hovered, waiting. The three of them standing close. Francis wished a hole would open up in the ground to swallow him. He wished to take the pair if them into his arms.

What he did instead was escape from the room with a hurried “Good night!”

That Friday the three of them went to a dinner in honour of someone Francis didn’t care for. In addition to the Officers, it was attended by a lot of society sorts, whom Francis hated, but James and Ann expertly charmed. Unfortunately the pair rarely allowed him to leave their sides for the entire outing. In fact they sandwiched him between them as often as was possible.

The near constant brushes of fabric or flesh from either side were wildly distracting.

When they sat however he was placed between Ann and some young upstart, an over-confident and eager braggart. After noting his Navy uniform, and shiny head of dark hair, he barely gave him more than a glance. Because his attention was pointedly away from the other man and towards Ann, it made him unfortunately aware of what he was sure her and James thought were subtle touches. Ann tried touched his own shoulder a few times to whisper some comment or other and he almost flinched away.

She was a delight to watch, unfortunately, and the dancing afterward just made it worse. To see them glide their way around the room without him.

Thankfully the Franklins were not in attendance that evening, and Sophia Cracroft, so he did not even need to consider whether it was ruder to ask or not ask her to dance.

He offered his hands to a few ladies; mostly wives of men he’d known in the service who smiled on happily to see their wives dance with him rather than some dashing fellow they might worry would whisk her away. Like the braggart from dinner. Francis had noticed him take more than a few turns about the floor. 

And as much as he made polite small talk with his partners, his focus kept drifting to find the Rosses. At this point they were standing off to the side, each with a glass in their hands watching on. In fact, they were watching him, and when James’s eyes met his he beamed. Francis looked away, ruffled.

After accompanying another lady back to her husband he joined them, because where else was he to go? He was tired of dancing.

“I don’t suppose you’ve whiskey hiding away there?” He asked of James hopefully to which he laughed.

Francis had not been joking.

“They tiring you out old boy?”

“Rather.”

“What a shame, I was hoping you’d show me a turn yet Frank?” Ann eyed him hopefully.

His stomach churned. “I doubt I’d be good enough for your skilled feet Ann.”

“And yet you’ve managed with half a dozen other ladies tonight who you know not half as well!” She sad in mock offence. “Come, James is no dancer and he manages with me just fine.”

“Dear wife! You wound me!” James grabbed his chest.

“Won’t you join me? Don’t embarrass me by turning me down a second time.”

Francis wouldn’t dare.

They took to the dance floor and Francis devoted all of his concentration to moving his feet in the right way and holding his hands in the right place and staying in time with the music. Ann’s dress was of the smoothest velvet and felt heavenly under his touch. He tried not to think about how her hands felt on him.

When she mangled to catch his eye again she smiled ruefully.

“I do hope you aren’t… unhappy Frank.”

“Sorry, I was just concentrating.”

‘I do not mean in this particular instance only.”

“I’m well Ann, you needn’t worry.”

“Are you, truly?”

What could he say? He said nothing.

“Not to be… too direct, but sometimes I think you need to allow yourself to be happy.”

“I tried that. She turned me down.”

“I speak not of Miss Cracroft.” Her fingers brushed delicately over his shoulder bone.

“I’m happy enough.” He said roughly.

“That may well be but I think James had been hoping he could improve it to further heights during your stay.”

“My visit has certainly helped to lift my spirits, I was so grateful for the invitation—”

“Again, I think you miss my meaning.” She was looking at him too intently for anything that could pass as polite or even friendly chatter to a passer by. “And I don’t speak of James’s wishes alone.”

He searched her face in return this time, looking for what she could possibly mean.

And then— another couple collided into them.

They issued their apologies and Ann dragged a stumbling Francis back off the dance floor to  where James stood.

He eyed them both with concern. Or was it caution?

“I’m…” Francis took one look at him but he couldn’t face it. Looked back to Ann, and turned away. Strode from the room.

He made his way down the hall, past some curious guests, and around a bend.

His throat felt tight. His heart thudded in his chest. He could hear footsteps coming after him.

He braced himself as the Rosses appeared, both with furrowed brows.

“Frank where are you going?”

“I’m sorry.” He tried in a hush tone when it was clear they weren’t going to let him walk away yet.

“Sorry?”

“I’ve been miserable and selfish.”

“Frank. I don’t think you do know what I was going to say. Let me speak.” Ann said calmly. She moved closer, her voice dropping again. Francis’s heart thumped in his chest. “I approached that all wrong, bringing this up while we were dancing. But if you’ll beg my pardon, subtlety was not working.”

“You…”

“I think it’d be better if we talk about this at home, yes?” James said kindly, shooting Ann a pointed look.

“I just need to…” His mind was yelling run run run. “I need some air. I might walk.”

“But it’s night, it’s dark—”

“I’ll meet you at home.”

By the time he reached Eliot Place it was after midnight and his feet were exhausted. His brain perhaps even more so.

He was planning to escape straight away to bed, hoping it was late enough that the Rosses had already done the same.

On making his way through the front door he realised a lamp had been left on for him in the hall, although everything seemed quiet and still. He closed the door behind him and stood, listening to the familiar sound of the grandfather clock ticking in the hallway.

By the time he decided to climb up the stairs he felt the need to creep for the quietness.

He had to pass by the Rosses bedroom, just two doors down from his own along the dark hallway. He could see a sliver of light almost as if the door wasn’t shut all the way. So they were still awake then.

He jumped as an indistinguishable noise interrupted the silence.

He didn’t mean to listen and yet—

He could hear them, he realised with a jolt.

He could hear them, their murmurings, in what sounded like an amorous moment.

His first reaction was to leap away from the door, back hitting the opposite wall. But then he heard an all too familiar sound.

An image flashed of James pushing him up against a bulkhead, mouth by his ear. Another of sinking to his knees before James in his berth. He forgot to breathe, frozen there in the dark, and caught James moan again.

Francis could feel heat, pooling deep in his belly much to his own disgust. How dare he suppose to listen in on their private—

“James.”  It was Ann’s voice, full of want, and it went through him like a lightening bolt.

He hurried away, stumbling down the corridor until he could shut his bedroom door behind him, not caring how loudly it slammed.

He brought himself off quickly with a muffled cry, thoughts of James and Ann and memories of he and James swirling in his head.

When he washed his hands and climbed into bed, his only feeling was guilt.

He rose early, bleary eyed. Dressed and left before anyone else had climbed from bed.

He went into London proper and ran all the errands he’d neglected whilst hiding away at the Rosses.

He hesitated about returning at all, and found himself wandering aimlessly the later the day went on. But he couldn’t do that to them after how kind they’d been. He owed them and explanation at least.

An explanation, then he would go.

“Frank darling, where have you been? The only way we knew you’d been home was because we could see the bed clothes had been slept in! Betty said she saw you sneak out with the sun this morning!”

He stood in the doorway of the sitting room and felt like a disaster. It was late afternoon, he was damp from the earlier rain, dusty from a long walk, and windswept. He was sure he looked just awful.

“Come and sit, you look tired.”

So he did look awful then.

He removed his coat before taking the sofa across from them so as not to dirty the seat. He folded it on his lap and eyed them like he was about to be interviewed.

“I’m sorry.” He croaked.

“Don’t be sorry.”

“I am, I am sorry for all of it. I only returned to collect my things so I can get out of your hair. I’ll be gone by dinner.”

‘Gone, why?”

“I don’t— I won’t take advantage of your kindness and hospitality any longer.”

“Advantage? It’s offered freely, gratefully—”

“Only because you know not what I have done.” Francis stands abruptly.

“What you’ve done?”

“Ann knows I kissed you Francis,” James says bluntly, standing from his seat. “And a lot else besides.”

“Well, right,” He can feel his face flushing his brain going a mile a minute, “Well it’s not all—“

“Unless you’re going to confess to a serious crime I doubt it’s worth all this melodrama.”

“Melodrama?!”

“What would you call it?”

“I am… disgusted with myself. I got caught up in it all, in… you both,” He turns his head ashamed, turns his whole body, pacing. “In my… past with James. In Ann’s… kindness to me. In seeing you both together. I’m sure it all stems for jealousy. Which is an ugly ugly emotion. Worse yet I listened to you when I arrived home last night!”

It spilt out of his mouth before he could take it back, and he shot a hand up to cover his mouth.

James sat back down.

“Well, did you enjoy it?” Ann asked, unbothered.

He turned to her, flabbergasted. Removed his hand from his mouth. He’s sure he must be bright red by now. “When I said listened to you I meant to a private moment in your bedroom, something I never should have presumed to—”

“We got your meaning Frank.” She said again, unflinching. In fact she smiled.

“We may have… assumed you would join us.” James said, looking the more embarrassed of the pair, although the words coming out his mouth were otherwise.

“What?”

“We could have been clearer, I suppose.”

“I told you,” Ann gave James a withering look.

“How was I supposed to know he was going to wander London for hours and not even tell us of his return?”

Francis found himself sitting back down.

“Come here Frank.” Ann said watching him.

“What?”

“Here.” She said, sliding away from James and patting the seat between them.

Francis’s eyes flicked between the pair, but despite looking slightly ruffled they both seemed content. Relaxed.

After a few more moments he stood and took stiff steps across the space before perching down on the seat dubiously.

“I’m afraid we’ve been scheming to get you into our bed for weeks.” James said with a rueful smile.

“It’s been a very trying business.” Ann said with a little laugh.

“If I can even… get my head around this, because I’m not quite sure this isn’t a cruel joke, I won’t have you bed me out of pity—“

“Pity?”

“My… circumstances, aren’t your responsibility, and I won’t have you feel you have to do anything, let alone this, to cheer my spirits. I won’t have you dragged down with me.”

“I’m afraid our reasons are rather more selfish than that.”

“You talk as if this were normal? Mundane. For a married couple to take… I can’t even say it.”

“Oh I wouldn’t say mundane.” Francis almost flinched as Ann took soft fingers to the top of his spine. Rubbing reassuringly over the skin. Her gown today was one of her finest day dresses, and the material grazed Francis’s leg as he felt her inch closer.

“I’m sorry we didn’t handle this very well, old man.” James patted a friendly hand to his thigh, but then left it there. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbow as if he’d been working, and it showed off his arms in a way Francis so liked.

He swallowed and looked at a point on the foot of the other sofa.

“I wish you wouldn’t both torture me so.” He said quietly.

“Dear wife, would you?”

And with that Ann’s hand turned Francis’s cheek towards her own and she kissed him before he could protest.

The first touch of her lips were soft but insistent, and Francis felt a sense of rightness, deep in his solar plexus.

It took a moment for his body to react, for his mind to respond, and when it did, his whole torso swayed into hers with a start. She took it in her stride, tightening her grip on his face, dragging her hand down under his jaw.

“James.” He murmured against her, still wary.

“It’s Ann.” Ann responded, humour in her voice.

“I’m right here.” James said, squeezing the hand he still had on Francis’s thigh reassuringly.

He was kissing Ann Ross. And James had asked her to do it. He was watching them. And they’d been planning it for a while.

Ann waited for Francis to continue the kiss this time which he did gladly, hand finding her waist.

She opened her mouth to him now, a pleased hum in the back of her throat as his teeth caught against her lip.

Before he could get too lost in it, he felt a familiar set of lips ghost over his neck and gasped into Ann’s mouth. James’s hand slid up his thigh as he kissed into Francis’s skin.

His eyelids had fluttered shut but he felt the couple manoeuvre him so that he was pressed into the back of the sofa, as they covered him with their mouths and hands. Ann was nearly leaning over him, a polite knee pressed beside his thigh, and James was curved into his other side. He couldn’t move. Which he found he didn’t mind.

“Sorry Ann.” James mumbled into his jaw, before guiding Francis’s face towards his own. Their lips met and it was a hundred other kisses at once, spanning years and continents, but it was also brand new, Ann’s breath still at his ear.

His body swelled up to meet James but two sets of hands kept him back against the seat. Ann’s hands stayed at his chest, beginning to loosen his cravat, unbutton his waistcoat. James gave him kisses as if he were administering them, tongue swiping over teeth with what feels like a grin before bearing down.

By the time has his shirt unbuttoned also, careful hands pressing against his chest, he made a noise of protest.

“Not fair.”

“Not fair?”

“I—” He flushed, going to pull the shirt closed, or cover himself with his arms.

Ann took his hands in her own, and set them at her collar bone.

“James, some help darling.”

James looked sheepish from where he was kissing into Francis’s jaw.

Francis saw him peel his layers of clothing off with unbothered abandon in his periphery as Ann guiders Francis’s hands along the swooping neckline of her dress. Showed him the way to push it from her shoulders. The skin’ turned to gooseflesh in the cold.

“You kiss so beautifully Frank, just like James said.” Ann whispered, “Like it’s the last you’ll ever give.”

He flushed even deeper.

“Now help me out of this thing.” She turned in the seat so her back was to him. He sat forward and took trembling fingers to the fastenings.

He felt James turn also so that he was flush to Francis’s back, mouth reattaching itself at his neck as his hands snaked around his waist.

“Feel like I’m dreaming this. Watching you unlace Ann for us.”

“You? I feel as if the whole world has shifted on its axis. I cannot be certain this is real.” Francis found himself whispering.

“Perhaps it has.”

He’s worked soft fingers down her spine to which she shivers, and then the fabric and bodice are falling away to reveal her corset.

“Do you want to…?” Ann turned her head as she felt Francis’s pause

“No leave it on.” Francis gawked at his own words as soon as they were out of his mouth, “Christ, I’m sorry, it’s not my place to tell you that, you may have it as you wish if you want rid of the thing—”

“Frank no, I want you to tell us what you like, what you want. We want to give you whatever you’d like, yes?”

“But I shouldn’t have ordered you—”

“I wish you would.” Ann smiled, turning her head back. “So you like the corset?” Ann took his hands against brought them around to the boning along her ribcage, just under her breasts.

“It’s very… nice.”

“Nice.”

“Beautiful.” He ran soft hands over and around to the back. Gripped the place where the laces were tied, gave them a little tug. “I find they can be very useful.”

He heard James moan at this, felt a thickening press at the base of his spine between James’s thighs and it nearly took his breath away.

“Frank.” James was trying to manoeuvre him  back agains his his own body. His hands crept down from his waist to his thighs, one hand gliding up the inner muscle. “Can I?”

“God yes.”

He leaned his head back against Jamses shoulder as the man cupped him through his trousers. He’d dropped his hold on Ann, and he noticed her get up to allow her dress’s layers to drop finally to the floor. She untied her bustle while James ran fingers up and down the ever-increasing shape of Francis’s prick.

When he fumbled for the waistband, Francis turned his head to him.

“Here?”

“What do you mean?”

“In your siting room? It’s not even night.”

“You ask this now? Once we’re all in a state of halfdress? What did you think we were doing?” James punctuated this with a audible smirk.

“Arent you worried we’ll be.. observed?”

“I think Ann and I would quite like to show you off.”

He parted Francis’s trousers, shucking them and then his smallclothes along with them, just low enough that his prick sprang free, half erect and twitching.

“Oh.” Ann had appeared in front of him again then, in just her corset and chemise and underskirt. “James spoke truthfully in this too then.”

She was staring at his prick. He thought it ugly, red and fat and as far from youthful looking as the rest of him. It seemed to please her though.

She knelt back down beside him and ran fingers over the tip. James’s fingers joined hers and Francis’s every sensible though exited the earth.

“James dear would you sit back with Francis between your legs?”

There was some shuffling as James set himself back against the sofa, shirt open but trousers still annoyingly on, prick straining through the fabric. He shucked Francis’s trousers and smalls further down to his knees as he brought his back against his own chest, his clothed prick fitting back against Francis’s arse with a moan. Francis felt a little silly until Ann stood over him, grasped his shoulder and then climbed into his lap.

She brought him off with her hand. Her body close, his face pressed to her chest. At one point he could hear the Rosses exchanging kisses over his shoulder, James’s sure hands gripping his hips, grinding them down against his own prick and up into Ann’s touch.

At one point he gasped, asking for James to press his cock inside.

“I doubt i’d make it that far.” James had responded breathily but he did push Francis forward a little to free it from its clothing, and allow it to lay along the cleft of his arse as he sat back.

He felt Ann’s breath hitch, body hitch, and then a dampness against his thigh.

“Ann, allow me.”

“Not needed.”

“But I—”

“One of these days I’d like to tie you down. So we can have our way with you.”

“Christ.” Francis cried and James ground up in to him.

They all finished in quick succession. James on Francis’s back, Ann against Francis’s thigh, and Francis in Ann’s hand, leaking down onto his lap.

They lingered briefly, curled together, before moving to clean themselves up. Constructing a state of dress appropriate enough to leave the room. It wasn’t until Francis was back in his own room, dressed in fresh clothing and readying for dinner that he stops to think about what had happened.

He didn’t know how he would sit facing them both knowing that they knew how he desires them both. That he’d asked them so openly for what he wanted. That he was so easily coaxed.

And now you know their desire for you in equal measure, a small voice says in the back of his head. He shook his head.

Dinner was quiet at first. He could feel the Rosses shooting looks at each other every time he looked down at his plate. He allowed this to go on for a little while until he even heard them whisper and he dropped his cutlery with a clatter.

“I’d rather you just told me,” He said, stony.

“Frank?”

“If you regret this afternoon, if you worry that i’ll be clinging at your coat tails now. Well you needn’t worry.”

“We were the ones concerned that you’d regretted it. You know you can step away whenever you want if it isn’t what you want.” James said, serious.

He looked between them.

“We were also just debating if it was too soon to ask you to go to bed with us tonight.” Ann added.

“You confound me, you do.” He brushed a hand over his head, through his hair.

“What do you mean? I feel as if we can’t be plainer.” James furrowed his brow.

“In that you might have me believe I, my… feelings, my desires, are something other than… tolerated.”

“Oh Frank.”

“Do not—”

“We intend to keep you Frank. If you’ll have us.” Ann smiled.

“It’s not pity, it’s not trickery, it’s not… tolerance. We’d simply like to have you and if you’d like that in return then that would be perfect.”

“But why?” That was what it came down to wasn’t it. What did the couple who could have anyone want with him.

“Because we love you! Is that not enough?”

He pushed his chair back abruptly from the table, “Me?” He gestured down demonstratively.

“You know that I love you.” James said, exasperated.

“I know that you love me, as a brother, as a friend. That would have been enough. But you never loved me.”

“Do not tell me how I feel or have felt! It’s insulting.”

“So you would take this?” Francis moved towards James and James stood to meet him as Francis grabbed his face and kissed him, hard. James gave as good as he got, but allowed himself to be backed up against the wall. “You would take this from me, hm? And this?” He palmed himself greedily, leering but all James did was moan in response. “In front of your wife?”

They both turned their heads to see that his wife had stood, and appeared enthralled by proceedings.

“And you would allow it done to your wife too?”

“Psh his wife is the only one who has say over what is done to her, thank you.” She captured Francis’s mouth with her own, backing him into the wall this time which he took eagerly. “In fact I think you should take us one after another Frank. Perhaps we could even take turns.”

“God.” He heard James say from close by.

“But might I suggest we take it upstairs?”

As soon as the bedroom door closed, all three were on each other again. It wasn’t like the fumblings of his and James’s younger years, nor the marriage bed union Francis had overhead, nor even the proceedings that had taken place only that afternoon; fraught with nervousness and reservation. No, it was something entirely different. And Francis felt consumed by it.

They undressed each other completely this time, till the three of them were naked and hands were everywhere, as they tumbled into the bed together.

He planted kisses up Ann’s leg. “Might I use my mouth on you Ann?”

She groaned in response, back arching off the bed.

“I hope that answers your question.” James laughed as he palmed lazily at Francis’s prick.

“And then I’d like to see how you please each other, so that I might learn.”

James laughed again, “I think you are plenty learnèd.”

“It could be a long night.” Ann said, eyes twinkling.

“I pray you not make dear Ann wait any longer for your mouth Frank.” James put a hand to his shoulder and then bent over his wife, brushing his nose over her cheek.

So Francis put his mouth to work. He started lightly, kissing over her, lips and tongue probing for where she was most sensitive but as soon as he licked inside she cried out.

He was aware of James’s hands over him and Ann both. They disappeared a moment and then he could hear the man’s breath hitch. Could hear kissing and the sound of James’s hand on his own prick.

He added a finger and Ann’s hips came up to meet him.

“Oh Francis.”

“Francis?” Francis and James said in synchronicity, both of their heads emerging. 

“It felt… It felt wrong to say Frank in bed.”

Francis smiled into her thigh. “You may call me whatever you like, Mrs Ross.”

“Mrs Ross,” James’s face screwed up, “You’ve never called me—”

“No, and I shan’t.” He ran a hand over the man’s thigh and then between them, making him jump.

“Oh Frank, would you, not the name thing—”

Francis pressed a certain thumb to the cleft of James’s arse and he sighed.

“Lay back, beside Ann.”

“Oh Frank, you don’t need to do that.” Ann tried to sit up.

“I want to.” He said before proceeding to finger both of them simultaneously.

He was bowed over them, his face hovered somewhere between both of their middles. Kissing into Anne’s ribs one minute and James’s side in the next.

Ann was open and wet by this stage and he easily put multiple fingers inside her, whilst he eased a first into James who was tight and sensitive and noisy about it.

He bore his forehead down into his stomach as James sighed his name and he added another finger. His own prick was flush against his stomach, hot with blood and untouched.

The Rosses had each turned their heads and were kissing, sporadically, each craning their neck to get another peck.

Francis’s eyes had been mostly closed in concentration but as James became looser and Ann rocked down onto his fingers, he became almost desperate with it.

“I can’t see you both, I wish I could—”

“I have an idea.”

“Yes?”

“Over the desk, over—”

The three of them climbed from the bed, stumbled toward the desk. Ann lay herself over the surface and Francis eyed the wide mirror in front of it warily. It was low enough that even Ann could see herself flush with the desktop.

“Did you have this set up specifically—”

“I will not be commenting.” James said coming up behind Ann, running hands up her back and over her backside.

He leant over Ann for a moment to whisper in her ear. They spoke for a few seconds before she nodded with a grin, and then he was kissing her ear and Francis found himself transfixed, not in jealousy but with a deep sense of warmth.

“Frank, would you come behind me now.”

He stepped behind James who didn’t react until he pressed his body up into his space, back flush with his chest. He trashed a hand back to paw at his side, to bring him closer. His prick hard and pressing against James. He could just see himself over James’s shoulder.

But then James leant over Ann.

Oh, thought Francis, a shiver going through him as he eyed them all in the mirror. As he realised what they intended.

“Oh,” He said.

He heard, saw, James grasp himself, guide himself into Ann. Both of them hitched their breaths as he inched forward.

Francis eyed his shallow thrusts, watched them in the mirror watching each other as James worked his way in to the hilt.

“Frank, you can,” James gasped, not moving from within Ann.

He felt himself sway forward into James, watched the man’s face react. Fumbled shaking hands down to his prick, finding the place to guide it home.

When he sunk into James the man stuttered forward and Ann cried out.

“You… you’re both lovely.” Francis murmured, bracing his hands on James’s waist.

He started slowly, shallow thrusts into James, into Ann, watching them both in the mirror. He had to start slowly or else he’d have finished imminently, the whole display overwhelming.

“It’s all right Frank,” Ann said, her voice high and breathy.

“Meaning?”

“Speed up, old man.” James said flippantly over his shoulder.

He shifted, thrusting forward, set a new pace. Started driving himself into James properly.

“Fast enough?”

“Quite.”

He reached forward to grip the edge of the desk which clearly took him to a new angle because James cried out like he’d been stabbed.

“Oh Frank, please—”

“Hm?”

“More.”

“Ann?”

“Yes.” He could see the way her eyes had fluttered closed, her back arched. He enjoyed seeing the way he could affect her without even touching.

“Jim I do hope you’re serving your wife well there.”

“What are you getting at?”

“I just think it’s a wife’s business to know that her husband is receiving a guiding hand in these intimate matters. She ought to know if it takes another fellow up his arse for him to ravage her correctly.”

James moaned, threw his head back, God, and Ann whimpered, knuckles going white where she hung on.

He was happy to see his gamble was correct.

He fucked the pair of them into the desk, all three of them losing their inhibitions when it came to making noise.

James climaxed first with a series of expletives and both of you and so much and take it darling.

The man went lax after, flopping forward against Ann’s back, smiling.

“Jim do you need..?”

“No just… use my body. If you can.”

He was so sensitive to even the smallest movement, which, honestly, had Francis on the verge. Just watching his reactions in the mirror.

He was eyeing Ann as well, getting more and more frantic underneath her husband.

And then he heard her ask, “James, here, please,” and guide his fingers between her legs.

Francis was next, and it overwhelmed him, going off like a shot of ammunition.

“James, I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask,” He sighed into James’s neck as he released deep inside the other man, his brow thick with sweat.

James chuckled lightly, “I’d have only asked you to stay if you’d tried to pull out.”

Ann finished last with a choked off cry, through a combination of short coaxing thrusts and fingers. She curled up against the desk’s edge before collapsing against it.

Francis plastered them both in kisses.

He took them back to the bed, to their own bed. Brought them under the covers.

The three of them fell asleep, tessellated into a new shape, and Francis found that he wasn’t even worried about how he might feel upon waking.