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papal-babygirl · 7 years

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The Wooing of Hugh Haussler (by one Mason Sukenaga)

The bulb on the clockwork spider clamped around Mason’s wrist started blinking rapidly, the signal that he had been told meant that non-essential personnel such as himself were able to board the RAS Memento. Non-essential personnel. He had been grouped with the non-essential personnel. He was the only doctor he had been told about on the ship for thousands of men and women working on it, and he was getting on after the skinny little things likely lying about their age that crawled about the rigging to keep the ship in the air and patch the balloon.

He wasn’t going to be bitter about it. That would take far too much effort, and he had much better things to do, like getting on the ship and immediately digging out the ginger tablets he had brought all the way from home and having as many as was safe to combat the airsickness. It was shocking what a doctor like him was willing to put up with for good pay and a place to sleep.

He waved his chest off to a couple of far stronger looking men, looking over them with the guise of keeping an eye on his delicate medical equipment, but he knew better then to lie to himself. Mason knew what he was doing. After a while he averted his gaze and pretended to look over the Memento, the windsocks on the dock fluttering gaily in the wind, and the people around him who he supposed were also these ‘non-essential personnel’.

“— Moira, dear, you can’t go on and on about what a waste of money this land purchase was when we’re about to board the newest ship commissioned by it. On an expedition to explore said purchase.” A man’s voice said behind Mason.

“And why can’t I? They shouldn’t buy land they don’t know a damn thing about.” A woman responded. Mason was starting to get curious, and he tried to move just a bit closer to the two.

“Just… please, for me, stay calm for the first day. Let everyone settle in before you shake it all up.” The man chuckled and it set such an odd little flutter going in Mason’s heart that he had to turn around. It was a mistake, in some ways, because a god must’ve decided to come down to earth and grace Mason with his presence here and now. Perfect sun bleached hair, a tan that complimented the rest of his rugged appearance and, well, Mason would never admit to admiring his physique, but his clothes were tailored exquisitely.

He ended up just gaping at the man for a few seconds, causing him to laugh again, and oh, it was even more beautiful when he could see the dimples and the smile pulling at his eyes.

“Can I help you, sir?” The man said, the smile still tinging his voice.

“I, ah, I just couldn’t help but overhear you and I…” God, if he could just think of something intelligent to say, “I’m just going to ask you leave my shaking up till I get used to the turbulent air, because till then that’ll be all the shaking up I can handle.” Moira smiled and clapped him on the shoulder, making him jump a little.

“I can respect that.” She nodded, “Besides, if I change everyone’s mind, includin’ the captain, there won’t be much shaking up to do. Be smooth sailing from there.” The man sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Excuse her.” He gingerly reached out and plucked the arm off of Mason’s shoulder. “I’m Hugh, by the way, and if you see her roaming around the ship with a fiery look on her face, I’m sure to be close behind.” Mason smiled back at the man— Hugh, he reminded himself— and turned away, a silent and familiar panic rising in his chest.

Hugh had called Moira darling. He’d always be close behind her. The ease they moved around each other. Of course. Mason should have seen it earlier.

He didn’t have a chance.

Mason, as it turned out, was not the only doctor on the ship. He was the most experienced, but he had a young woman just out of school and three nurses to assist him. What that meant for him, at least till the other doctor found her bearings, was that he was the one who got sent out with the exploration missions.

With Hugh.

And Moira.

The mornings were gray, usually, and the clouds settled amongst the tops of the trees and rose from the mud of the swamps, and Mason was blearily awoken by the leader of the party. He had to pack before the sun was properly up, and more than once he nearly wounded himself with his own surgical tools.

It wasn’t the worst thing, getting to explore the Republic’s new purchase, and see a world new to all their eyes. It had the added benefit of Hugh excitedly taking note on every bird call and footprint he found, sometimes imitating the former to see if he could gain a response from the birds. Most days involved him instructing people to collect samples where they could and far more stern instructions to stay with someone at all times. Yes, all of the crew had a way of communication, the clockwork spider they were issued with before boarding could transmit Morse messages, but it was just better to have someone to watch your back.

Mason, it seemed, always happened to end up with Hugh and Moira. He would have felt it was on purpose were it not for the amount of time they spent talking, her going on about botany as Hugh did much the same. It was almost unbearable. When invited to the captain’s table to provide educated conversation, it was fine, even intriguing at times, but this was blatant, unrestrained giddiness, and it got very old very quickly. Especially when Hugh was not sharing that enthusiasm with Mason. He would have found it endearing then.

Instead he nearly bounced around Moira, and she did much the same. They would make little jabs at the other, offhand comments that left them both laughing gaily. Mason trailed behind, avoiding anything that looked even the littlest bit suspicious. He was not going to be the one getting ill from this expedition if he could help it. Plenty of other people had started to get some mild but persistent cough, and he was doing all he could to prevent catching it. The ship needed him to stay well. It was why it was such a mystery that he got sent out instead of someone just as capable at applying bandages as he was, which was about all he was doing out here anyways. Occasionally he’d be pulled from his thoughts by a blinking bulb on his wrist, a short message that called for his aid, and he’d have to distract the couple so that he could go help. Wouldn’t want to get caught alone in the forest.

He lead then, just thinking of the fact that dinner would be far more pleasant, even if Hugh and Moira sat next to each other. Hugh always did make the effort to give him a chance to speak, and watched intently every time. Moira would play with her ring and stare wistfully at it, clearly trying to follow the medical talk. And then, just like that, dinner would end, and they’d all split off, Hugh and Moira going down to the hold to catalogue and study their samples. Together, as usual.

Mason would be left to tend to the infirmary, without a partner of his own. At least the nurses were nice, and he was growing to rather like the younger doctor. She was bold, and thought she knew all the answers, but to her credit she often did know what she was doing, and Mason rarely found cause to dispute with her.

It could never be what he wanted.

They’d been in the air three months.

They’d weaved in and out amongst the new land, finding small towns to dock at and resupply before their later journey out further.

It was late, and the lamp had started to sputter and run out of oil. Mason hadn’t gone back to his quarters; he was still in the dark infirmary with only the smallest bubble of light surrounding him at his desk. No one was here overnight, no one for him to be vigilant over. The nurses had all been dismissed, and he’d just be here himself if anything happened. It had been quiet since then. He’d heard tell of some event happening tonight on deck, but it wasn’t the subject of conversation at his particular table. According to Captain Fordham, they didn’t speak of such banal matters.

Either way, he didn’t mind missing out. That much. He had brought an ungodly amount of books, and any time he could find a shop while they were docked he purchased more, sometimes selling off ones he’d lost interest in. So now he waited in the infirmary, buried in his book. Until, finally, a knock startled him nearly out of his chair.

Mason wasn’t sure if his eyes were playing tricks on him, and in the light they very well could, but it seemed to be Hugh at the door. In a rush he snatched up the lamp and nearly threw open the door, only finding restraint when he remembered that desperation would get him nowhere. This was an aimless infatuation. It simply had to be.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Haussler?” Mason straightened his waistcoat, now painfully aware of his coat laying across the back of his chair. God’s wounds, he was destined to make a fool of himself in front of this man every time they were alone.

“How formal.” Hugh laughed, a sound that made a small and treacherous fire light in Mason’s chest. “Do you… have the night shift or are you free to leave?”

“I’m here in case anything happens. Why do you ask?”

Hugh shrugged casually. “It’s just that the entirety of the ship, more or less, is currently on deck for the festival.”

“Festival?” Mason asked. That must’ve been what he’d heard about earlier, but he wasn’t aware of something like a festival happening this time of year. The Republic was a big place, though, and he wouldn’t entirely consider himself an expert on its customs.

“Ah, you must not spend a lot of time on airships.” Mason shook his head, squinting and leaning forward.

“No, Mr. Haussler, I do not.” The flame flickered a bit between them, gusts of wind finding their way between the two men.

“It’s more a custom than a festival, but on impeccably clear nights like tonight, captains have been known to give their crew a night off. And I just so happened to notice one Dr. Sukenaga was absent from such festivities. They seemed to lack a certain refinement only one man I know possesses.” Hugh’s tone got a bit stilted and formal, clearly taking a jab at Mason, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care when Hugh was smiling. It was really quite embarrassing.

Hugh had remembered him. Missed him, even. It wasn’t unthinkable, Hugh was often found at the captain’s table as the esteemed naturalist he was, and Hugh definitely knew who he was, but still… this was momentous in Mason’s eyes.

“Is this my invitation?” Mason asked, a small smile finding its way onto his lips. Hugh smiled again, broad and bright and absolutely negating the need for a lamp.

“Consider it so.” Mason wasted no time in throwing on his coat and extinguishing the lamp, locking the door behind him as they made their way to the deck.

There were lanterns hung amongst the rigging of the ship, complementing the stars as the ship drifted along at a slow and even pace, and Mason had the distinct sense that he was suspended in mid-air with nothing beneath him, floating there alone in the sky. He stood there, rooted to the spot and watching the elaborate dance happening in front of him. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen on the ground, and he couldn’t even think to move till Hugh shoved a glass into his hand and pulled him over, leaning on the railing of the deck.

“You might want to watch a bit before joining in.” Hugh said over the din of the music coming from a triad of people with beat up looking instruments that shouldn’t have been able to make the music sound as good as it did.

“Oh, I don’t… I don’t make a habit of dancing.” Mason stared down into his drink, something light and frothy, and took a cautious sip of it. It was definitely alcohol, but it went down easy, and Mason was surprised he’d never had any in his time on the ship. Perhaps they only had it at events like this.

“Well, then, I suppose you’ll just let Moira and I have all the fun.” Hugh laughed and clapped him on the back, something he should be used to by now, but it still made Mason jump.

“It was what I intended to do.” Mason said affably, but he was dreading having to watch the couple dance together.

Moira came over crowing their names, a bit flushed in the face. She pulled Hugh into an embrace, and Mason spotted the ring on her finger as she did, gold band shining in the lantern light. “You’re back!” She said, a bit too loud, taking Hugh’s hand and leading him out to the dance. He cast a glance back at Mason, which Mason returned with a sympathetic smile and a wave. He would be fine. Really.

Mason stood there, drinking as the pair spun together in the dance he still couldn’t figure out by the end of the night. Everyone stumbled to their quarters or posts to keep the ship on its course and Mason stood there still, on his six or seventh glass, he couldn’t remember. He watched Hugh and Moira navigate their way down the stairs, arms around each other’s waists for support and raucously laughing as they gingerly made their way back to their quarters. Mason didn’t move till they were gone.

Another month went by, and they had all but stopped making progress across the land, instead landing at the edges of forests and mires and coming back with samples of the wildlife— sometimes unrecognizable creatures that took half a dozen men to haul into the keep because of their size. Hugh went out with them almost every time, and every morning, Mason would watch the parties go out, and scan for Hugh amongst them. He was easily found, standing out amongst the black-clad crew members of the ship in his almost garish khaki. Mason found it endearing nonetheless.

Every evening, he’d watch them come back and he would find Hugh again, drinking in the sight of him in the distance with a rifle slung over his back. It was shameless, but the nurses let him have his moment. Sure, he lied about it easily and claimed it was to see if anyone was hurt so he could get them on the ship quickly, but they let him have the moment nonetheless. His days were filled with patching up cuts and scrapes and finding remedies for the ailments that were foreign to all of them. It began to wear on him.

He gave himself the night off, trusting the nurses to take care of things through the night. He was holed up in his room, reading, as he always did, with about half a bottle less of the sake he brought from home. Mason was finding some ignorance at the bottom of a glass, trying to forget that he hadn’t seen Hugh at the captain’s table since they’d started properly exploring the Republic, seeing as he instead chose to regale the crew (and Moira) with the tales of the beasts he’d bested.

Mason stared blankly at the book, words not registering as having any meaning. Perhaps he should just sleep, let the now comforting sway of the ship lull him. His pocketwatch told him it wasn’t even particularly late, as did the occasional person passing outside his door, but he saw no reason to sit here and wallow. He almost ignored the knock at his door, but figured it was likely a nurse who needed his help, and he knew well that a night off was rather a nebulous concept for a doctor. Mason scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to look presentable and likely failing as he slid the door open, finding the very man he had found himself obsessing over. Again.

What luck he had.

“Yes?” Manners had gone out the door the second he opened it.

“I ah, I…” Hugh straightened his vest, just as form fitting as the day Mason had seen him. “I realized tonight that it had been nearly a month since I’d sat with you- the captain, I mean, and I… did not realize how much I enjoyed… that company till I did not have it.” Hugh wrung his hands nervously and stared past Mason, obviously taking in his quarters.

Mason swallowed down every bitter thing that he had to say, not now, not when Hugh had come to him asking to spend time together. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? “Well, so far I’ve had the night off, and am thinking it is likely to continue being a night off and you’re welcome to join me. Not that I was doing… much of anything.” He probably looked like a mess. It had been a long day, a long week, even. But when he stepped aside to let him in, Hugh smiled that blinding smile that Mason swore could make anyone fall in love. Perhaps he didn’t look too awful.

He poured Hugh a glass of his sake and then another as the night wore on. They started off with Hugh excitedly telling Mason about the creatures he’d seen, and Mason found that Hugh had a sympathetic ear for venting the struggles of trying to care for a whole crew of people in all but uncharted territory. As Mason kept talking, he spoke of home, his real home, Taiyō, and he barely noticed how enraptured Hugh looked till he paused for thought.

If he didn’t know better he’d have said it was a look of love.

It threw him off guard, his head swimming ever so slightly. Hugh was thumbing at the lip of his glass and staring up at him intensely, and Mason felt heat rise to his cheeks. The spell was only broken when Hugh looked away to take another sip of the drink.

“Why did you come to the Republic, then?” Hugh asked quietly, trying to start the conversation back up again.

“My mother was born here. I came back, in a way. And frankly, I knew the way to make a life out of being a doctor was getting out of Taiyō. It’s not that the medicine there doesn’t work, or isn’t valid, it’s that no one over here trusts it. Here is where the money is. I’m sure you can appreciate why I went with the more... empirically validated field.” Hugh hummed in agreement. “And you, what brings you to this shining Republic?” There was a hefty dose of sarcasm in his voice as he knocked back the last dregs of his sake, setting the glass down.

“Same as anyone else, I suppose. Same as you. Money. The promise of a safe and happy life.” He stared down at the clear sake, swirling it a bit. “Don’t know if I’ve gotten there yet.”

“You have Moira.”

“I do. She means the world to me, and yet… I still feel unfulfilled.” He looked up at Mason with that same look, one that shook him to his very core. It rooted him to the spot and gave him a sickening amount of hope that Hugh could ever mean that about him.

There wasn’t enough alcohol on the ship to drown that hope out.

Something had gone wrong. Something had gone horribly wrong. The expedition party came back in just an hour after leaving, with significantly fewer numbers and the worst of it was Hugh. Three other people rushed him into the ship and moved him to the closed off surgery theater as quickly as possible. More people trickled in after him, and the nurses flitted about caring for all the wounds, setting bone and mending flesh.

All Mason could focus on was Hugh. The three that brought him in had a grave look in their eye, as if they knew theirs was a hopeless endeavor. Hugh’s pulse was weak, and they’d hardly managed to stop the blood flow from his wounds. Three savage gashes in his side were wrapped up with some cloth that was now sticky with blood. Mason had never worked faster in his life, sewing up the wounds and bandaging them, keeping an eye on Hugh’s breath and his pulse. Both were shallow and fluttering, but there.

Then they were not. Mason couldn’t find a pulse and there was no breathing. He couldn’t give up. This was not how this would end. In a flurry he was barking out orders for the nurses to bring him different chemicals, something, anything to help restart Hugh’s heart. A scrap of training came to him with a wave of adrenaline, some offhand manual way to help his breathing, his heart, and he didn’t stop to consider the fact that his professors had never said how well this worked. It had to. The injections couldn’t do it alone.

After what felt like an interminable amount of time forcing air into Hugh’s lungs and trying to restart his heart from the outside, Mason was almost forced with the reality of defeat. He kept going, though, almost out of principle. The injections hadn’t done much. Or so Mason thought.

He had just pulled back from trying to get Hugh to breathe when he did so on his own, a gasping breath that shook the both of them to their core. Hugh’s eyes were a bit glazed over, but they were moving as his breath picked up, his pulse as well. Mason felt ready to cry, and he was certain he would later when there weren’t people all around. Hugh let out a wheezy chuckle, arm limply coming to grasp at Mason’s bloody forearm.

“I don’t know whether to kiss you or sob, Doctor.” Hugh sighed out the words as Mason gratefully accepted a rag from one of the nurses before she rushed back out to assist the other doctor.

“Well, you have somewhat done the former. Instructors always called it the kiss of life.” Mason scrubbed at the blood, wanting the stain of it off his hands.

Hugh laughed again, a soft noise with a smile that barely curled the edges of his mouth. “And what if I said I wanted to kiss you while I was awake to remember it?”

Mason froze, midway through getting blood from underneath his nails. He looked up to Hugh, and he was smirking as much as a man who’d just had a brief conversation with Death could. He couldn’t be serious. He looked it, but he couldn’t be. Mason had to say something.

“I… if that is something you want, I would be agree-“ Mason was cut off by Hugh grabbing the back of his neck and surging up to meet him halfway, lips crashing together. It seemed he was serious. Mason sighed into the kiss, dropping the rag to support Hugh’s torso as he sat up further and further, something he shouldn’t have been doing with stiches. Never mind that, Mason could tell him so later. Now, he was getting everything he’d wanted for months.

Moira. Her name jumped into Mason’s mind and he pulled back suddenly, careful to not just drop Hugh in his shock. Hugh’s eyes were blown and his brow furrowed.

“Not good?”

“This isn’t right. What about your- what about Moira?” Hugh stared at him for a second before smiling weakly.

“That woman is like my sister, Mason.” It wasn’t the first time Hugh had called him by his first name, but it was the first time it had sounded so soft. Hugh reached up with a shaky hand to cup Mason’s cheek. “I love her deeply, but not in the way you seem to think. We practically grew up together. And besides, she has someone back home, even if I cared for her in that way I couldn’t be with her. There’s only one person I care for like that on this ship and I am looking right at him.”

“I… you…” Mason just stopped before he made a fool of himself, though that must have been the man Hugh fell for, because he seemed to only make a fool of himself when Hugh was around. “You are?”

“I am.” And Hugh kissed him again, and thankfully, not for the last time.

#writingandrants #i love my boys #my writing

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