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Intentions: A New Year's Eve Party, a Leviathan fanfiction

Deryn extended her arm. “Shall we go?”

Alek knelt and snapped for Bovril, who leapt up into his grasp.

“Of course. But where?”

“There’s a wee changing room off to the side, where some of the boffins left their regular clothes. It’s locked up, but I’ve got the only key.” Deryn looked him up and down again. “And bottle of champagne, if you’re not too much a lady for a drink alone with a former sky sailor.”

“I assure you, Mr. Sharp,” Alek said. “I have no concerns about your intentions.”

“That’s good to hear, Mr. Hohenberg. For my intentions are clarity itself.” And then she was leading him away from the throng of monsters, beasts, and freaks, toward someplace private and safe. A place where it didn’t matter who was wearing what.

Bovril, riding on his shoulder, giggled one more time.

“Mister Hohenberg,” the creature said.

Alek watched as Deryn inserted a small thin key into the hole of an inconspicuous door away from anyone else’s focus. She opened it and gently pulled Alek inside the dark space.

Alek, doing his best to keep up with her tugging whilst balancing on the thin heels beneath his feet, stumbled into the room behind her. Deryn turned back and locked the door again, slipping the key and its dangling ribbon into the space between her broad belt and her dress.

The room was slightly bigger than the average closet with just enough dim light to see in and was stuffed with both pressed uniforms and every day clothes hung on the racks and folded on the benches that lined much of the four walls. However, there were also heaps of clothes simply tossed into the room already trodden under foot. This surprised Alek, but he supposed even society members could get sloppy when excited for a party.

From behind such a pile of clothes Deryn produced a sealed bottle of champagne, likely nicked from the society’s party supplies. She proceeded to pop the cork with her thumb which narrowly missed Alek and sent Bovril, repeating strings of profanity it most definitely learned from Deryn, skittering across Alek’s shoulders with fright and sharp nails into Alek’s skin.

Alek looked at Deryn incredulously, damn near certain she may have been aiming at him on purpose.

Deryn, thumb still hovering above the neck of the bottle, was looking at him wide eyed with an apologetic look that was greatly overshadowed by her unsuccessful attempt to keep herself from laughing.

“Oops!” she said, snickering.

“Oops, indeed” said Alek, taking Bovril off his shoulder and placing it on a shelf above the clothes rack with his parasol, where it slinked away repeating “oops!”

Deryn then pulled two wide-brimmed coupe glasses from where she had been stowing them and began to pour the champagne.

From his days in his father’s palace Alek knew that coupe glasses were not the correct vessel for champagne, as the wide opening created dead zones in the bubbling and would dampen the experience, but still he graciously accepted the cup by its stem with his right hand.

As he did so he couldn’t help but to notice how Deryn held hers by the bowl, her five fingers wrapped around the round under belly of the class like it was a soft ball; another incorrect way of handling the delicate sparkling wine, as the heat of a person’s fingers could impair the champagne’s bouquet. He didn’t correct her on either though, as he had learned when was best to keep his mouth shut when it came to his more upper-class knowledge.

But really, her commonality in these things did nothing but highlight how uncommon she was in most other things. Her strength, her stubbornness, and above all, her capacity to love all things; beasties, flying, and now, even Alek himself. He really was so lucky, despite her talent at putting him in danger, whether it was 30,000 feet in the air, in a foreign country, or at the end of a champagne cork.

Alek tapped his finger against the crystal stem as Deryn settled herself across from him, shifting her body weight onto one leg, crossing her ankles underneath her dress; a very feminine move Alek had never seen her make before. Perhaps, he mused, it was easier given the slender shape of her skirts.

He found himself staring at her exposed ankles peering their way out of the hem of her skirts and felt himself flush, then forced his attention back to the glass in his hand.

“You know, they say the coupe glass was modeled after Marie Antoinette’s left breast, as it was her favourite” Alek said awkwardly while gently swirling the bubbling liquid around the rim of the class before lifting it to his lips.

Deryn’s eyebrows shot up with surprise, brandishing her coupe like a beastie in need of scientific study, looking down into the volume of the glass.

“Barkin’ spiders… good for her, I guess.” She paused, the glass nearly back to her lips. “If they were modeled after mine, you’d have to refill after every sip.” She said nonchalantly, like it was a perfectly normal thing to say.

Alek, halfway through his own sip of champagne, gasped with flustered surprise and began to choke on the bubbling liquid, sputtering and coughing as his face turned a dark shade of red he hoped wasn’t apparent in the dimly lit room. He brought his hand to his mouth, coughing the champagne from his lungs and desperately attempting—and failing—to hide his embarrassment.

He had to admit that Deryn’s…coupes had been a subject of curiosity to him as of late, but his genuine respect for Deryn had kept him pushing any thoughts that may pop up to the back recesses of his adolescent mind. Her bringing them up like this was most definitely out of Alek’s comfort zone and he didn’t know how to respond appropriately.

Deryn, eyes trained on Alek’s flustering, was tittering quietly into her glass in a way that made Alek take into consideration that it may not be her first glass of the evening. Perhaps that would explain her audacious remark, or perhaps it was just Deryn being Deryn at Alek’s expense… As per usual.

“Yes, well, uh, that is to say, um, that is just something they say... It’s probably not true though—just a myth—as the coupe has existed since the 17th century—” Alek said rapid fire, unable to drown his discomfort in his champagne as he was becoming increasingly aware of the act of putting the coupe to his mouth as being rather salacious given the context.

Deryn barked a real laugh this time and said, “You really are so easy to rile up, your princlyness,” with a playful smile.

Defeatedly, Alek put his face into his free hand trying to fully cover his embarrassment. “Deryn Sharp, you will be the end of me.” He said with a sigh.

Alek then felt Deryn’s strong hand slip into the hand on his face, lacing her fingers through his and gently pulling it away. When he finally looked up, she was close enough that he could feel her warm champagne laced breath brushing against his skin.

“Aye, but you love it.” She whispered, before leaning in the rest of the way to kiss him.

Alek surrendered to her touch and pressed his lips against hers in response, letting his glass of champagne hover listlessly to his right.

Deryn leaned in closer, her body pressing gently against Alek’s as she gently lifted the coupe from his grasp by the rim before setting it behind her where she must have disposed of her own glass while Alek had his eyes covered.

Her hand returned to cup his cheek as their mouths found their rhythm, the crests of each other’s lips pressed together until they found their way into the valleys of one another, fitting together like two perfectly matched puzzle pieces.

As their lips moved together, Deryn slid her hand passed Alek’s cheek and onto the back of his neck, sending an inescapable shiver down Alek’s spine as her kisses grew more intense with an undeniable escalation in eagerness, knocking Alek’s lips into his own teeth in a way that was not entirely unattractive to Alek.

Spurred by Deryn, Alek returned her enthusiasm and soon found Deryn’s lips parting around his, beckoning. Alek fit his tongue into her mouth where it always felt as natural as it did within his own mouth.

Alek reached his free hand to her waist, wrapping it slowly around to her back. As he did this, Deryn slipped her hand from his and began tugging at her broad belt. Unfolding the neatly tucked ends from her frame, the long swatch of fabric came away and the key that had rested within its folds clattered to the ground unnoticed.

Alek trailed his hands to the space the belt no longer occupied. It didn’t escape Alek’s notice that this was a part of Deryn that was new to him. Under her shawl the back of her dress was just low enough that Alek could feel her warm skin and the divot in her spine.

He slid his palm along its surface, feeling her vertebrae bow to his touch. As her back pressed against his hand, Alek realized Deryn was actually pulling him towards the side wall behind her, stepping backwards to lead Alek into her steps.

Alek found himself pulled by a desire to defer to Deryn and shuffled forward as she tugged on him, still connected at the mouth.

Then, as Alek took another step in time with Deryn, he felt a disturbance underfoot—at first it was only a misshapen lump that merely a portion of his brain detected, so he continued plowing forward—and then it became a sliding sensation as Alek’s ankle gave way underneath him, unsteadied by the feminine footwear he had nearly forgotten he was wearing. Alek grasped wildly, clutching at Deryn as he lost his balance and succeeded, not in keeping himself upright, but of pulling Deryn to the floor as well.

As they careened to the ground, both pulling at each others’ clothes in a different way then they previously had been, Alek heard a sickening thud as something knocked against the wall before he landed on his front. Alek raised his head, supporting himself on his forearms to discover the thing that had hit the wall had been Deryn’s head.

“Deryn! Are you alright?” He asked while held precariously over her, unsure of how his movements could affect any damage she may have sustained.

Deryn looked up, blinking her eyes a few times as if she were disoriented. “Aye… it’s a good thing I’m not as delicate as you,” she said, reaching her hand to the back of her skull then pulling away and presenting a clean palm. “No blood. I’m fine.”

Alek sighed his concern away, not missing that quip at his own past head injury.

“Thank God for your thick skull, then.”

“Thick skull?? Me! You’re daft if you think mine’s any thicker than yours.”

Alek opened his mouth to retort but before any sound escaped somewhere overhead Bovril, in a wry and mocking tone said, “Mister Sharp?” phrased like a question.

Deryn burst out laughing and Alek couldn’t help but to begrudgingly join in, the beastie did have an impeccable sense of humour.

“Even the beastie knows it’s half of your brains.” She said with a howl. Alek hung his head hanging limply off his shoulders, closing his eyes and gently shaking it as he came to terms with how far he had fallen. Once the air to a world-renowned empire now reduced to the butt of a joke of a talking beast.

“Yes, yes laugh it up.” He muttered with a supressed smile as he listened to her cackle, feeling her body convulse against his in amusement.

Once her laugh subsided into giggles he opened his eyes. It took him a moment to come to terms with what he was looking at. Deryn’s outfit, no longer held in place by her belt, had become displaced in the scuffle. Her beaded necklaces poured over her clavicle and pooled on the floor at her sides. Her shawl had shifted down her shoulders and her dress had been pulled alarmingly lower than it had been, stretched at the sleeves and pinned by Alek’s bodyweight. She was still covered but not by much and it made Alek’s ears burn in a familiar way. He caught himself staring a half second too long.

“Enjoying the view?” Asked Deryn, propped on her elbows and peering down her nose at him with a smug look.

Alek frantically pushed up on his forearms, trying to stand or back up—to give Deryn some space. Maybe this had been where they had been heading all along, tucked away in this small dark room, but stumbling—literally—into it felt wrong. He flailed, his legs tangled in his own twisted mass of skirts and petticoats and trying desperately not to step on Deryn he finally resolved himself to flop down on his back next to her, prodded uncomfortably by the bustle now underneath him.

Beside him Deryn twisted to her side, decidedly not rectifying her clothes.

“Alek,” she said tenderly. “You don’t need to treat me like I’m some compromised lassie, you do know that, right?” and made an expression that was somewhere between concern and guilt.

Alek stewed in his awkwardness. The last thing he wanted was for Deryn to think he was uninterested or that she made him uncomfortable when it was the exact opposite. Everything about her made him feel like himself. She was stunning—not just in this evening’s dress but in her midshipman slacks, her flight suit…in everything, and he suspected, in nothing at all.

“Of course,” he said quietly, finally looking in her eyes, hoping his expression would say the things he was too nervous to say out loud. “I just don’t want you to feel pressured... I guess it was just the way I was raised. I always watched my father wait for my mother to approach him.” Even in the times when Alek was very young and caught them standing in the hallway at night, or the stolen moments they didn’t realize their son was watching them, Alek could remember his father—the great Archduke of Astro-Hungary—resign himself to patiently waiting for his wife to initiate any touch or kiss.

Deryn smiled sincerely with recognition in her eyes and then her expression morphed into one of feigned hurt.

“You think I, the great and decorated Deryn Sharp, could be pressured to do anything I didn’t want to do?” Alek had to admit that was rather unlikely.

“No, I guess not.”

“Aye, you guessed right.” Deryn cupped her hand onto his cheek once more but waited patiently for Alek to move towards her where he returned his lips to hers and settled his own hand onto her opposing cheek. After a moment he reached his free hand and laid it gingerly onto her hip, feeling the thin dress material between his fingers and her warm skin once more. Deryn wrapped her arm around Alek’s waist and pulled him in closer, and Alek could feel her familiar smile in her kiss.

Their mouths met again and again, moments melting together until Alek felt Deryn’s hand leave his waist, folding Alek’s hand in her grasp and slowly guiding him down the length of her fitted skirt, coaching his hand beneath the low hem of her dress, permitting Alek to glide his hand up the underside of the fabric until he gently caressed her upper thigh. He was surprised—though perhaps he shouldn’t have been considering her climbing abilities—at how muscular her quads were. It made Alek a touch self conscious at the slender appendages under his own skirts, but mostly he drifted into the sensation of the feeling of her against him from their mouths down to their intertwined feet.

A close sound brought Alek back into his environment. He realized it was the sound of the door rattling to his left. Deryn must have noticed at the same time because they they pulled away simultaneously and both glanced over at the door.

Alek’s heart skipped a beat at the first sounds of someone at the doorknob, then settled when he remembered what Deryn had said about how she had the only key to this room. But as the keyhole turned with a faultless click, Alek wasn’t sure how right she had been about that and his heart picked up speed again.

Most of Alek’s field of view was blocked by the racks of hanging boffin clothes above him; skirts and bottoms of jackets obstructing his line of sight. He could see less than the bottom half of the door and hoped that meant that he and Deryn were out of the purview of whoever it was beginning to open the door. As he looked on in horror, trying to keep as flat to the ground as possible while shielding Deryn, his hand trembling upon her thigh, the door opened gradually, and the sound of a women’s giddy laughter laced with the intoxicating edge of an evening at festivity fully entered the small room along with the music from the banquet hall.

As he beheld the bottom half of the doorway, he recognized a pair of Roman sandals followed closely behind by two message lizard-coloured legs and forearms.

“Let me retrieve my jacket and we may head out.” Said the voice of Dr. Barlow, not 2 meters from the pile of clothes that was Alek and Deryn.

Alek scrunched his eyes shut in a muddled tangle of emotions. Of anyone at the event, these two would be the least problematicto find the two of them in this position… But would undoubtedly be the most embarrassingto find them. It would leave them with little to no way of devising a cover story of what they were doing in the change room and he knew Volger would never let him live it down.

“Of course.” Responded the count, his voice tinged with just as much, if not more, social lubricant then when Alek had left him. “Or we could always stay here.” He followed up in a low voice as the door clicked shut behind him and Alek stared in utter disbelief as Volger’s large hand grasped Dr. Barlow’s backside in a firm and assertive manner. Deryn stiffened next to him and Alek decided she was just as horrified as he was to be witnessing this as he was.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Said Dr. Barlow, unperturbed. “I am not foolish enough to believe I may be the only one smart enough to have a skeleton key made for this building’s rooms.” Next to him Deryn made an almost inaudible groan, like she should have known that the boffin would undertake something like that.

“As shrewd as always.” Said Volger, his hand giving a final squeeze on the drapes of Dr. Barlow’s skirts before pulling away. Dr. Barlow then pulled her usual long purple frock off of a hanger on the opposite wall, draping it over her arm before offering her elbow to Volger and starting back towards the door.

Just as Volger was opening the door and Alek felt they might just come out of this unseen he heard from above them: “Intentions!” with a provocative intonationfollowed by Bovril’s unmistakeable giggle. Alek laid as still as stone, a white-hot feeling of betrayal flaring in his chest, quickening his heart rate even more and enraging the flush on his cheeks and ears—the beastie was selling them out!

Volger and the boffin’s feet stopped abruptly, turning towards the back wall of the room towards the shelf where Bovril’s announcement had come from.

“Intentions,” said the loris again.

“What on earth did it say?” Asked Dr. Barlow inquisitively.

“You’re always saying how perspicacious the beast is.” Volger retorted with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t say my intentions were very subtle.”

“Yes… but how on earth did it get in here?” The boffin clicked her heal impatiently; she was never one to tolerate uncertainty. Then she turned sharply. "No use speculating. Come." Volger opened the door, and together they disappeared through it. Alek couldn’t help but think how uncharacteristic of Dr. Barlow leaving the question unanswered was, but he suddenly was very grateful for the effects of alcohol on the human brain.

Both he and Deryn waited a beat before they let out the breath they had both been holding.

Alek closed his eyes in disbelief and finally spoke. “Suddenly I need to bleach my eyeballs.”

“As long as you save some for me.” She said back. When Alek opened his eyes Deryn was pretending to retch, then caught him looking and shared a smile with him.

She then got to her feet, letting Alek gingerly retract his hand from her leg to his side. Before she took another step towards her discarded belt and key Alek grabbed her hand, straightening himself next to her.

“If we leave now, we’re likely to bring attention to ourselves.” He said, not releasing her hand.

“You heard what Dr. Barlow said, there might be other guttered boffins stumbling in here all night.”

Alek shrugged. “We survived the two smartest people at the party barging in. Would it be so bad?” He couldn’t help himself; he had a hard time letting go of this time with her.

“Mr. Hohenburg,” Deryn said cheekily, a grin splitting her face. “Are you telling me what to do?”

Alek only responded with a look as the sounds of the party leaked through the thin walls. But neither of them reached for the door just yet.

#Varlow Jumpscare #deryn sharp #leviathan trilogy #dalek #scott westerfeld #alek of hohenberg #prince aleksander #deryn x alek #deryn and alek #just a waste of hydroqueue #rated: T for leg touching

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