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Fill for my own promt.
Archibald's side
Fluffy general fic. Takes place before ‘Moon series’ with various allusions to preceding adventures.
When you sleep, your face is the greatest mystery
Tintin observed sleeping Archibald with soft smile.
There are 28 rooms in Marlinspike hall, out of this number six are bedrooms, and his friend had to fall asleep here, in main study. Crammed on sofa near warm fireplace, with book still firmly in hand and Snowy curled up into ball on his stomach. How, for Heaven’s sake, did he get his one hundred and eighty centimeters of height into one hundred and fifty centimeters long sofa, that Tintin simply couldn’t conceive.
The ginger added few logs to fire and looked from window. December just started, yet Marlinspike was already cut off due to snowdrifts. Tintin smiled. This weekend’s supply shopping would be an adventure. Assuming they will be able to leave the house.
He looked at Captain again and his smile widened. He never believed that he will ever find such a great friend. Someone who would accept him as he is, not wanting to change him at all, who would love him wholeheartedly. And yet he did, knocking this great man over and threatening him with gun at their first meeting.
Captain snored loudly and Tintin chuckled at the way how Snowy ascend and descend with every breath Archibald took. He couldn’t wake them, no, that would be cruel. The ginger decided to get them duvet instead.
As he headed to his bedroom, he still thought about Captain. Tintin was not sure when exactly did the Question popped up in his mind for first time. But he was certain that it is that kind of question, which simply does not evaporate. The greatest mystery of whole Universe. Something which comes to mind of anybody who knows Captain Archibald Haddock. (Or Thompson and Thomson, to be precise.)
How clumsy a man possibly could be?
Let’s see. Since they met, his older friend was whacked with wooden plank (and Tintin was the one who did it), got hit with a magnificent bone, knocked heavy sign plate down on his head, and once, he got so entangled in own story that he thrown chandelier on himself. He survived a plane crash, and Tintin’s not so exactly safe way of driving. He nearly burned to death in the middle of vast sea, and afterwards almost died of thirst in Sahara, yet drove off Berbers while knocking himself out with own gun. Tintin giggled at that reminiscence. Captain got buried under avalanche, which he started. He was arrested and even assaulted by police, kidnapped and interrogated, or better say tortured. Thompson and Thomson accused him of murder, to their own bad luck. They treat him with respect bordering on fear ever since. He bonged himself to news column, ended inside the clothes-brusher machine and few times singed his fingers. He was attacked by shark, bear, tapir, alligator and coconuts. (No, they didn’t just fell on his head, it was well planned revenge.) He slipped on spaghetti, fell from horse, stairs, steep crag and Tintin once pushed him out off runaway train, yet he miraculously never broke anything. He was despised, bitten and spitted by llamas. He caused a ruckus in theatre wearing a papier-mâché bull’s head. And he got hit by firework rocket, for Great Snakes! He regularly brings himself close to heart attack thanks to Calculus’ bad hearing, and due to the fact that he sometimes acts, involuntary, as guinea pig for professor. Not to mention his most unfortunate tendencies to trip over anything thinkable (and, to be honest, even the unthinkable) and to accidentally smack people in near proximity, which gets him into all sorts of other troubles. And Tintin was sure this list will grow. He snickered. Sometimes, there was suspicion that Captain is merely pretending that ineptitude, and sometimes … sometimes, there was that terrible heart-shattering feeling, that dreadful bottomless fear, fear he might loose Captain, his Captain, forever.
He would never let such thing happen, he would not.
The ginger seized his spare duvet and returned to study. Neither Captain nor Snowy moved the slightest. Tintin gently arranged his duvet on them, glad that his (Or theirs already?) dog laid his head above Captain’s heart, so he could cover them both.
Tintin seated himself on the rug next to sofa, just for a little while, to watch over them. His own heart was aching with happiness.
Archibald's side
Fluffy general fic. Takes place before ‘Moon series’ with various allusions to preceding adventures.
When you sleep, your face is the greatest mystery
Tintin observed sleeping Archibald with soft smile.
There are 28 rooms in Marlinspike hall, out of this number six are bedrooms, and his friend had to fall asleep here, in main study. Crammed on sofa near warm fireplace, with book still firmly in hand and Snowy curled up into ball on his stomach. How, for Heaven’s sake, did he get his one hundred and eighty centimeters of height into one hundred and fifty centimeters long sofa, that Tintin simply couldn’t conceive.
The ginger added few logs to fire and looked from window. December just started, yet Marlinspike was already cut off due to snowdrifts. Tintin smiled. This weekend’s supply shopping would be an adventure. Assuming they will be able to leave the house.
He looked at Captain again and his smile widened. He never believed that he will ever find such a great friend. Someone who would accept him as he is, not wanting to change him at all, who would love him wholeheartedly. And yet he did, knocking this great man over and threatening him with gun at their first meeting.
Captain snored loudly and Tintin chuckled at the way how Snowy ascend and descend with every breath Archibald took. He couldn’t wake them, no, that would be cruel. The ginger decided to get them duvet instead.
As he headed to his bedroom, he still thought about Captain. Tintin was not sure when exactly did the Question popped up in his mind for first time. But he was certain that it is that kind of question, which simply does not evaporate. The greatest mystery of whole Universe. Something which comes to mind of anybody who knows Captain Archibald Haddock. (Or Thompson and Thomson, to be precise.)
How clumsy a man possibly could be?
Let’s see. Since they met, his older friend was whacked with wooden plank (and Tintin was the one who did it), got hit with a magnificent bone, knocked heavy sign plate down on his head, and once, he got so entangled in own story that he thrown chandelier on himself. He survived a plane crash, and Tintin’s not so exactly safe way of driving. He nearly burned to death in the middle of vast sea, and afterwards almost died of thirst in Sahara, yet drove off Berbers while knocking himself out with own gun. Tintin giggled at that reminiscence. Captain got buried under avalanche, which he started. He was arrested and even assaulted by police, kidnapped and interrogated, or better say tortured. Thompson and Thomson accused him of murder, to their own bad luck. They treat him with respect bordering on fear ever since. He bonged himself to news column, ended inside the clothes-brusher machine and few times singed his fingers. He was attacked by shark, bear, tapir, alligator and coconuts. (No, they didn’t just fell on his head, it was well planned revenge.) He slipped on spaghetti, fell from horse, stairs, steep crag and Tintin once pushed him out off runaway train, yet he miraculously never broke anything. He was despised, bitten and spitted by llamas. He caused a ruckus in theatre wearing a papier-mâché bull’s head. And he got hit by firework rocket, for Great Snakes! He regularly brings himself close to heart attack thanks to Calculus’ bad hearing, and due to the fact that he sometimes acts, involuntary, as guinea pig for professor. Not to mention his most unfortunate tendencies to trip over anything thinkable (and, to be honest, even the unthinkable) and to accidentally smack people in near proximity, which gets him into all sorts of other troubles. And Tintin was sure this list will grow. He snickered. Sometimes, there was suspicion that Captain is merely pretending that ineptitude, and sometimes … sometimes, there was that terrible heart-shattering feeling, that dreadful bottomless fear, fear he might loose Captain, his Captain, forever.
He would never let such thing happen, he would not.
The ginger seized his spare duvet and returned to study. Neither Captain nor Snowy moved the slightest. Tintin gently arranged his duvet on them, glad that his (Or theirs already?) dog laid his head above Captain’s heart, so he could cover them both.
Tintin seated himself on the rug next to sofa, just for a little while, to watch over them. His own heart was aching with happiness.
no subject
Date: 23/09/2012 16:44 (UTC)From:Thanks for writing this. I got my sugar fix now <3
no subject
Date: 23/09/2012 21:06 (UTC)From: