argh.thirty-eight out of fifty is close enough or something.

[quigonejinn]

• It was not, in most cases, a hardship for Bush to give up his berth for a guest.
  
  He had his duties aboard the ship, after all; they were certainly enough to keep him busy during the day, and whatever time he had outside of that, there was the wardroom or the captain's cabin, if Hornblower wanted the company. At night, an extra hammock was slung along the side of the wardroom for him, and he drew his shaving ration from the wardroom cask anyways, so the primary hardship was giving up any small naps that he might catch during the course of the day. He could certainly endure that for the time it took to transport someone across the Channel or almost anywhere in the Mediterranean, so no, giving up his berth was not a hardship when required, and while sharing was a little more difficult, it was certinaly not impossible.
  
  Bush had done it perfectly peaceably with Cotard, for example. No complaints despite the fact that Cotard had a habit of singing to himself in French as he shaved. He was neat and tidy and perfectly polite. A reasonable existence, certainly, and the Hotspur's first lieutenant cabin had been half the size of what Bush had now aboard the Lydia.
  
  Two days with Sharpe, on the other hand, and Bush found himself contemplating the possible delights of sharing a berth with Napoleon Bonaparte.
  
  
• Sharpe took such liberties with his uniform that even Gerard was a little taken aback: Bush and Gerard were on the quarterdeck together, discussing the schedule of exercise for the hands that afternoon, and the detachment from the 95th was taking air on the deck when Sharpe came staggering up from below, his coat half-on and his necktie backwards and his hat nowhere in sight. There was at least a half-inch of stubble on his face, and for the love of God, was that his sword jammed under his arm like a loaf of bread?
  
  Bush lost control of himself enough so that he made an involuntary noise, and Gerard looked over with sympathy. True, that was a little bit of amusement on Gerard's face, but even he winced when two of the 95th got to brawling with other while Sharpe put his hands on his hips and roared with laughter and accepted a bet from his sergeant as to who would win.
  
  "Terlaine Bay in a week and a half, sir."
  
  
• "Are there always so many floggings?"
  
  The words came out of Sharpe with a great deal of force, and Bush reminded himself that they were, in the books, the same rank. Sharpe did not have to use sir. He was in the Army; there was no requirement that Sharpe speak respectfully of the Navy and her institutions.
  
  "Only two today. None since last week, and we're only a month out to sea. The hands aren't as settled as they will be."
  
  Bush had, in fact, seen the marks across Sharpe's back. They looked at least five years old and were no doubt closer to ten, but the scars were still raised up off the flesh, twisting, in the way that only the very worst of the floggings produced. Sharpe had not acted as htought hey cauesd him pain; he certainly seemed healthy enough, and yet, Bush watched as Sharpe stripped his coat off and threw it into his hammock with a great deal of force. He could see the scars, in fact, under Sharpe's shirt, and Bush was trying to calculate how many lashes he must have been given.
  
  "So you flog them until they do?"
  
  A hundred? Two hundred? Over a number of days, it must have been, with the way that the scars twisted and branched.
  
  Nevertheless, when Sharpe turned around, eyes and face still angry, Bush was perfectly able to meet his eyes.
  
  "If it's necessary."
  
  
• "So you came up out of the ranks."
  
  "I was a master's mate on the Swiftsure. Captain Lewell made me an acting lieutenant."
  
  The ship was moving, of course, and there were all the sounds of a ship under steady hands and wind: creaking deck, footsteps, the sound of the lower decks filtering up. Bush kept his eyes cloed, but he suspected that Sharpe had not yet blown out the light and drew out the sails as they ought to be lying at the very moment. Tops'ls, heads'ls. He tried, as Hornblower told him to try as an exercise, to plot out what the stars must look like overhead and how their view of them would change as the Lydia continued through the night, but after a moment he gave it up as a hopeless task. The sails were easy enough; he had been doing it for decades now, but the stars were another question.
  
  It was difficult enough when he was completely awake, but it was dark, and he lay comfortably in his swaying cot.
  
  "And y've -- "
  
  Earlier in the evening, Sharpe had come running to talk to Hornblower about something or the other about what he was being set to shore for -- at least he'd had the knowledge to knock before coming in, and Bush had been excused out of the room as soon as Sharpe made clear what he was there for. A confidential mission, it seemed, that only Hornblower and Sharpe knew the details of, but when Sharpe had come into the room, they had been standing at the table together, talking over a question of seamanship.
  
  In the heat of discussion, the captain had used a mug and one of his books to indicate the relative positions of ship and shore, and since he failed to be convinced but could not articulate well why, precisely, he was muttering about how ungainly a ship made of ceramic would be. Horatio was leaning forward a little to manipulate HMS Mug and the westernmost part of Gibbonalia, was smiling in that way he had when he was feeling particularly content.
  
  "You'll never forgive me for making your darling girl the Hotspur gap-toothed, will you, Bu -- "
  
  That was the scene that Sharpe had come onto. The captain, smiling at his lieutenant over the memory of old times together. Bush attempting to contain his exasperation at the fact that he was being teased by his captain over the same hoary old joke for the three hundredth time, their shoulders very close to bumping.
  
  Hornblower spoke French, knew Latin, was known to be a doctor's son, and when he lifted up his sea-chest so they could look again at his orders, there had been more books in there than clothes. He was still young for a captain, it seemed, and Sharpe remembered the words of recommendation that he'd had from Hodgson as to the man's ability. The Admiralty has very high opinion of him. I've met him myself, and he's no fool, Sharpe. Trust him.
  
  Bush, that afternoon, roaring at the midshipman who had a rear admiral for a father but only a halting command of the signal book. The boy redfaced with shame, staggering a little from the back of Bush's hand. Gerard, who had come in as a mate from the merchant marine, and worked his way to second lieutenant.
  
  On the other side of the cabin, Bush began to snore.

Comments

[commodorified.livejournal.com]

I haven't even started reading this; I promise, I'll make sensible noises later, but --

Two days with Sharpe, on the other hand, and Bush found himself contemplating the possible delights of sharing a berth with Napoleon Bonaparte.

I? Love you. And am completely losing my shit with hysterical glee.

[commodorified.livejournal.com]

I want to see what you do with this.

And when it comes to reconciling the 95th with the timeline... Movieverse Edrington is in the 95th. Feel free to < ahref="http://commodorified.livejournal.com/81637.html">call on me for rum and sympathy.

[cleverthylacine]

Mwahahahaha EDRINGTON TOO?

Lalalalalalala...

:D

But these are brill.

[quigonejinn.livejournal.com]

Yeah. I've seen some Edrington/Sharpe bits floating around, but I swear to God that about five seconds after I clapped eyes on Bean as Sharpe, I was like "... he is Bush's evil mirror twin brother, isn't he?"

<333333 you nad your hilarious icon.

[commodorified.livejournal.com]

One of these days I will write ATKM Sharpe meeting ATKM Archie.

"... I've never seen you before in my life. Why are you wearing my shirt?"

(and yeah -- that's what the icon is meant to make you think of)

[cleverthylacine]

He so is. commodorified made the icon (<3s you both) for me when I squeed over her CS Forester one.

XD i'll call on you for the rum, but really. the powers of denial are strong in me.

[quigonejinn.livejournal.com]

Alas. Nothing is happening with them -- I might write a few more snippets, but I've used up all of my brainpower even thinking about trying to figure out a way to get Sharpe and Bush to even speak each other. Figuring out this stealth mission that Sharpe is on and that Bush is gnawing his soul out over? I have no idea.

All I know is that Bush throws a complete shitfit when Horatio goes to shore with Sharpe, and Sharpe saves Horatio's life, but both of them get injured, and it's a success otherwise.

And hah. Your icon always gets me humming that line from the Bloodhound Gang song about the Discovery Channel. ^_^

[nolivingman.livejournal.com]

Dude. Love love love these.

<33333 your icon.

[quigonejinn.livejournal.com]

*laughing* I want to be a fly on the wall for that trip. The pissiness! The snippery! The total and utter incompatability!

Re: <33333 your icon.

[nolivingman.livejournal.com]

Plus, Sharpe's tight pants! That's a very important part of the movies, I find.

Re: <33333 your icon.

[quigonejinn.livejournal.com]

*dies* I had troublew ith Bean in the beginning because I'd heard that McGann was due toplay the part but got injured, so I was all mentally bitching in the beginning, but I'm totally sold now.

Really, though. I'm surpried that Bush doesn't lay eyes on Sharpe and just explode into little tiny Bush-bits in sheer irritation.

[neotoma.livejournal.com]

was that his sword jammed under his arm like a loaf of bread?

Heee! Sharpe *would* give Horatio and Bush fits, wouldn't he. And then he appall and impress them the first time they got in a serious battle with him onboard.

[quigonejinn.livejournal.com]

It would be amazing and great and wonderful, and dgjdkfj. My plebey little fangirl heart wants all parties to walk away with a better, greater, deeper understanding of humanity. :(

[black-hound.livejournal.com]

*falls to the ground in sheer delight for the mention of GERARD alone.*

The whole neatness fetish. OH SO GRAND. *G* And the master's mate background. *shrieks with glees*

"your darling girl the Hotspur" -- she so is.

"Nevertheless, when Sharpe turned around, eyes and face still angry, Bush was perfectly able to meet his eyes. " <33333

It's just one line after another after another. The way Bush's character is so louldy announced while being so quietly spun.

It's just all sorts of good. :)

GERARD!!!!!!!!!!1

[quigonejinn.livejournal.com]

Someday, there will be Gerard/Bush, dammit.

And yeah. The bit in Hotspur where they're talking about re-distrbuting the weight on the ship is probably one of my favorite non-omgz-mah-boyfriend bits in the whole series. The attention to detail, the pleasure they take in their professional duties! Horatio's brain, the interaction between allof them, the fact that Bush is HORRIFIED by the idea of putting a gap in the the Hotspur guns and <3 <3 <3

That man loves his girls with the wooden curves and rigging for hair.

*leaps out of the water like a flying fish*

[black-hound.livejournal.com]

"with the wooden curves and rigging for hair."

I just ... <333333333333333

HMS Pineapples and Lemonade, escorted by a convoy of flying fish!

[quigonejinn.livejournal.com]

*falls over laughing* I can't tell whether that's good or bad.

Re: GERARD!!!!!!!!!!1

[flameofdeath.livejournal.com]

OMFG, I DIDN'T TELL YOU I'M WRITING A GERARD FIC!!!

(Ahem. Trying to weave Bush/Gerard in it as you know my fondness for it, but hey. I try. XD)

[http://users.livejournal.com/_oggy_/]

"HMS Mug"
*much giggles* and postulates just how odd a ship of ceramic might be. a tad fragile methinks. many thanks for the giggles and smiles.

*pats your icon*

[quigonejinn.livejournal.com]

Ahahah. :( Bush would love her anyways, though, if she were his. :(

Re: *pats your icon*

[http://users.livejournal.com/_oggy_/]

he so would, even if her glaze cracked. hopefully she'd be some sort of high fired ceramic, none of that porous earthenware nonsense. stoneware might a little heavy, but could take a beating. porcelain would be a great social statement but bush would probably fall all over himself just looking at that much porcelain. hornblower, however, would revel in it.
the icon is a tribute to a character i created for an rpg about 5 years ago, an irrascible university professor of art history with little patience, long before i became a hornblower nut.

[iansmomesq.livejournal.com]

This is just a boatload of good and a shipload of squee!!! Bush and Sharpe matching eyes... Sharpe being a threat to the entire workings of the ship, questioning, being the goodhearted pain in the rear that he always is.

LOVE all over neatfreak!Bush. ;) The whipmarks...

Beautiful stuff!

[quigonejinn.livejournal.com]

Bush = the neatfreak to end all neatfreaks. I love that mental catalogue he does before going to bed of where he makes sure that everything is arranged and tidy and ready for use in the morning. <3

And thank you for the sweet words.

[iansmomesq.livejournal.com]

Bush would so hate Sharpe, LOL. Hate and love are such a fine line. *grin*

I'd love to see a gun exercise or a full on battle with Sharpe and Harper in Bush's division. ;) If I remember in Sharpe's Trafalgar the Captain whatshisname, can't remember now, put Sharpe on a gun station for battle even though he was a passenger. Hee. Wouldn't that be summat? Bush'd be yelling "fiyah! fiyah! fiyah, goddamn you!" and Sharpe'd be taking his time aiming the sonofabitch cannon and whack! Off goes the Frog ship's mast! Sharpe turns around to Bush with this shiteating grin...

Ah... Sharpe and Bush! Match made in hell.

[flameofdeath.livejournal.com]

I really ought to check my flist more often!

I loved this. Ohmygod, you tempt me with the prospect of writing HH/Sharpe is not Edrington!! XD *off to read your other entries!*