fic: The Trouble With Eustace
Nov. 28th, 2008 06:56 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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narniaexchangeTitle: The Trouble With Eustace
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rachelbeann
Recipient:lovesrogue36
Rating: G
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for The Silver Chair
Summary: In which Jill is frustrated, Eustace is ill, and marriage is - inevitably - discussed.
Original Prompt that we sent you: Eustace/Jill - Jill gets jealous when her cousin comes for a visit engaged. Prompt words/objects/quotes/whatever: broom closet, locked in.
A/N: Thanks tomomdaegmorgan for her help. I hope you excuse my general liberality with your prompts. *g*
The trouble with Eustace, Jill decides, is that he doesn't notice much.
In some ways it has its perks. She can sneak a whole helping of greens onto his plate, for example, and he simply blinks in confusion before shrugging and eating them, none the wiser. There are other times, though - times he calls her "Pole" like before and it makes her twitchy; times when he forgets to tell her she'll be meeting his parents and she's in the middle of a dare that involves a fair amount of grime; times when he wears a shiny suit and tie to her mother's dinner party and doesn't seem to notice that the rest of them are lounging in jeans.
She's never been overly fond of the social dynamics involved in dinner parties. It doesn't help her mood any that her cousin - her second cousin, she amends silently - is over, eyes alight with match-making. Who better for them to fall on than Jill? Who better for them to fall on than Jill's oblivious, stuffy little friend? Her cousin, who's ring finger is poised for praise and who displays a slightly dazed young gentleman on her arm (and if Jill's a little jealous of that, well, she won't admit it).
She finds her actions more than justified, in retrospect.
*
"Jill?"
From her perch on the decrepid chest, Jill squints at Eustace, who's looking a little too pink under the weight of his ridiculous dinner jacket. "What? And if you're going to complain about how cramped it is in here again -"
"No. I mean, yes, but...um, I was going to ask: why are we hiding in here again?"
"Oh. That." Jill scrubs her hair and blinks through the dusty streaks of light that are filtering through the one and only window in the broom cupboard. "We're hiding from my cousin."
"Oh," he says. There's a moment of thoughtful silence. "Wait, why are we doing that?"
She sighs, and the action is enough to send the already air-born particles spinning, making her eyes water something awful. On cue, Eustace lets out a mammoth sneeze that not only likely gives away their location but could be mistaken for a sign of the coming apocalypse by anyone less accustomed to Eustace's allergies than Jill Pole. Although, it would be like him to chose a time like this to get violently ill, now that she thinks about it.
She can almost here Puddleglum's reaction play out in her head. A most dreary infection, he murmurs, pseudo-voice as solemn as the real thing. A dire disease. The boy'll be bed-ridden, no doubt, for days, weeks -
She snorts, much to Eustace's confusion, and has to hide a chuckle behind the veil of her hand.
"It's dusty," he gripes, wiping his nose with his sleave, making Jill grimace.
"Oh, do stop complaining. At least we've got a light," she says, wiping dust off the high window, which - not surprisingly - sets Eustace into another fit, wheezing, eyes bulging. It would be funny, if not for her unfortunate proximity.
In a fit of selflessness, she sacrifices her one and only hanky. He lets out what she interprets as a grateful grunt and presses it to his face. She notices that water has beaded in the corners of his eyes, and she can see another dormant sneeze twitching there.
"Thanks," he says nasally, with another sniff. There's a short pause. "This is dreadful."
"It could be worse," Jill says reasonably.
"Oh?" He sneezes and glances at the door nervously, as footsteps echo outside up and down the hall, an ebb and flow. "How?"
"Well," she says, mouth flapping as she tries to pull a memory out of her collection of things-less-pleasant-than-being-stuck-in-a-broom-cupboard-with-a-sneezing-Eustace. "Well, at least we're warm. Remember camping in Narnia?" Both of them know cold well. She can still recall the bone-deep chill of a Narnian winter, as if the cold is simply dormant within her.
"Yes," he says, shivering alongside her. "That was thrilling. Then we almost became lunch."
Jill grinned, because memories of adventure are always softened after the fact, and while she can remember the cold and the terror, she can remember it fondly, and proudly.
A few moments pass, Eustace with Jill's unfortunate hanky pressed continously to his nose, both children listening carefully for signs that the party outside had finally - mercifully - broken up.
"You think it's safe yet?" Eustace finally asks.
"I dunno," she says honestly, glancing at the door suspiciously and pretending she can decipher the shuffling of footsteps and other noises as belonging to her cousin or not. His eyes widen in a way she recognizes now, and she decides she'd rather face her cousin than get sneezed on again.
The doorknob wobbles promisingly, then gives an obstinate clunk, letting the realization hit them: they were locked in.
"Well," Jill muttered, leaning back. "That's not good."
"Did the plan go sour before or after we were locked in?" He's not surprised this time when she kicks him, which she figures is something.
*
"What I don't get," Eustace tells her, after the initial shock of being stuck in a broom cupboard with Jill wears off, "is why we're hiding from your cousin, anyway."
Jill pauses, trying to decide how to convey her intent to Eustace. She's knows the kind of girl she is, always has. The kind of girl that didn't fit into the criteria of her sex at Experiment House, to be sure; the kind of girl that the teachers called "unmotivated", though really she was motivated to practice all sorts of things. Most of them just didn't include putting up with brown-nosing bullies and doing maths.
She's even more than that, after Narnia, though no one else but perhaps Eustace recognizes the parts of her that were fostered by a Lion and a Marshwiggle and a captive Prince. Even then, there's no doubts in her mind. It's something her cousin had never grasped, as oblivious as Eustace through the lens of love and marriage and the securing of both.
"Because," she explains, "according to her, I'm not...focused. Like she is. And it's not like I'm against the idea, but -" She sighs, fingering the hem of her sleeve, then just blurts it out. "Mostly, she wants to marry me off."
"She - wait - you want to get married?" It falls from his mouth in a stunned flurry, the closest to a curse word he's ever uttered.
"No, you pig-brain. But that's what girls are expected to do, not that you'd know."
The slight insult in her tone misses him. "Well, I don't." His face scrunches up, the idea seeming to pain him. "I guess I just don't think of you as a, you know, girl - ow!" Eustace cradles his foot in his hand with a scowl. "What did I do now?"
When Jill's look makes it clear she intends to kick him again, his brain catches up with surprising speed. "Oh. I meant - you're just not - like most girls. But that's not bad, it's more...good. So, really, you, um...Golly, you make a great girl, Jill, alright?"
She rolls her eyes, but can't help the blush that creeps swiftly across her cheeks, because she never has been able to judge when he'll say something like that, awkward but honest, and throw her off all over again. Her lips tug into a lop-sided smile and she leans forward, chuckling at Eustace's expression in the hazy light. He gulps, the swallow comically working its way down his throat like something swiped straight from a cartoon. She takes it as encouragement and leans even closer, pausing to gauge his reaction, only a breath away from touching him. Before she can rethink the action she presses a quick kiss to his cheek, pulling back with a hesitant but triumphant smile.
He blinks, eyes locked on her face. It takes her a moment to realize he's still poised as if he expects her to pummel him at any second.
The trouble with Eustace, Jill decides, is that he doesn't notice much.
Author:
rachelbeannRecipient:
lovesrogue36Rating: G
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for The Silver Chair
Summary: In which Jill is frustrated, Eustace is ill, and marriage is - inevitably - discussed.
Original Prompt that we sent you: Eustace/Jill - Jill gets jealous when her cousin comes for a visit engaged. Prompt words/objects/quotes/whatever: broom closet, locked in.
A/N: Thanks to
momdaegmorgan for her help. I hope you excuse my general liberality with your prompts. *g* The trouble with Eustace, Jill decides, is that he doesn't notice much.
In some ways it has its perks. She can sneak a whole helping of greens onto his plate, for example, and he simply blinks in confusion before shrugging and eating them, none the wiser. There are other times, though - times he calls her "Pole" like before and it makes her twitchy; times when he forgets to tell her she'll be meeting his parents and she's in the middle of a dare that involves a fair amount of grime; times when he wears a shiny suit and tie to her mother's dinner party and doesn't seem to notice that the rest of them are lounging in jeans.
She's never been overly fond of the social dynamics involved in dinner parties. It doesn't help her mood any that her cousin - her second cousin, she amends silently - is over, eyes alight with match-making. Who better for them to fall on than Jill? Who better for them to fall on than Jill's oblivious, stuffy little friend? Her cousin, who's ring finger is poised for praise and who displays a slightly dazed young gentleman on her arm (and if Jill's a little jealous of that, well, she won't admit it).
She finds her actions more than justified, in retrospect.
*
"Jill?"
From her perch on the decrepid chest, Jill squints at Eustace, who's looking a little too pink under the weight of his ridiculous dinner jacket. "What? And if you're going to complain about how cramped it is in here again -"
"No. I mean, yes, but...um, I was going to ask: why are we hiding in here again?"
"Oh. That." Jill scrubs her hair and blinks through the dusty streaks of light that are filtering through the one and only window in the broom cupboard. "We're hiding from my cousin."
"Oh," he says. There's a moment of thoughtful silence. "Wait, why are we doing that?"
She sighs, and the action is enough to send the already air-born particles spinning, making her eyes water something awful. On cue, Eustace lets out a mammoth sneeze that not only likely gives away their location but could be mistaken for a sign of the coming apocalypse by anyone less accustomed to Eustace's allergies than Jill Pole. Although, it would be like him to chose a time like this to get violently ill, now that she thinks about it.
She can almost here Puddleglum's reaction play out in her head. A most dreary infection, he murmurs, pseudo-voice as solemn as the real thing. A dire disease. The boy'll be bed-ridden, no doubt, for days, weeks -
She snorts, much to Eustace's confusion, and has to hide a chuckle behind the veil of her hand.
"It's dusty," he gripes, wiping his nose with his sleave, making Jill grimace.
"Oh, do stop complaining. At least we've got a light," she says, wiping dust off the high window, which - not surprisingly - sets Eustace into another fit, wheezing, eyes bulging. It would be funny, if not for her unfortunate proximity.
In a fit of selflessness, she sacrifices her one and only hanky. He lets out what she interprets as a grateful grunt and presses it to his face. She notices that water has beaded in the corners of his eyes, and she can see another dormant sneeze twitching there.
"Thanks," he says nasally, with another sniff. There's a short pause. "This is dreadful."
"It could be worse," Jill says reasonably.
"Oh?" He sneezes and glances at the door nervously, as footsteps echo outside up and down the hall, an ebb and flow. "How?"
"Well," she says, mouth flapping as she tries to pull a memory out of her collection of things-less-pleasant-than-being-stuck-in-a-broom-cupboard-with-a-sneezing-Eustace. "Well, at least we're warm. Remember camping in Narnia?" Both of them know cold well. She can still recall the bone-deep chill of a Narnian winter, as if the cold is simply dormant within her.
"Yes," he says, shivering alongside her. "That was thrilling. Then we almost became lunch."
Jill grinned, because memories of adventure are always softened after the fact, and while she can remember the cold and the terror, she can remember it fondly, and proudly.
A few moments pass, Eustace with Jill's unfortunate hanky pressed continously to his nose, both children listening carefully for signs that the party outside had finally - mercifully - broken up.
"You think it's safe yet?" Eustace finally asks.
"I dunno," she says honestly, glancing at the door suspiciously and pretending she can decipher the shuffling of footsteps and other noises as belonging to her cousin or not. His eyes widen in a way she recognizes now, and she decides she'd rather face her cousin than get sneezed on again.
The doorknob wobbles promisingly, then gives an obstinate clunk, letting the realization hit them: they were locked in.
"Well," Jill muttered, leaning back. "That's not good."
"Did the plan go sour before or after we were locked in?" He's not surprised this time when she kicks him, which she figures is something.
*
"What I don't get," Eustace tells her, after the initial shock of being stuck in a broom cupboard with Jill wears off, "is why we're hiding from your cousin, anyway."
Jill pauses, trying to decide how to convey her intent to Eustace. She's knows the kind of girl she is, always has. The kind of girl that didn't fit into the criteria of her sex at Experiment House, to be sure; the kind of girl that the teachers called "unmotivated", though really she was motivated to practice all sorts of things. Most of them just didn't include putting up with brown-nosing bullies and doing maths.
She's even more than that, after Narnia, though no one else but perhaps Eustace recognizes the parts of her that were fostered by a Lion and a Marshwiggle and a captive Prince. Even then, there's no doubts in her mind. It's something her cousin had never grasped, as oblivious as Eustace through the lens of love and marriage and the securing of both.
"Because," she explains, "according to her, I'm not...focused. Like she is. And it's not like I'm against the idea, but -" She sighs, fingering the hem of her sleeve, then just blurts it out. "Mostly, she wants to marry me off."
"She - wait - you want to get married?" It falls from his mouth in a stunned flurry, the closest to a curse word he's ever uttered.
"No, you pig-brain. But that's what girls are expected to do, not that you'd know."
The slight insult in her tone misses him. "Well, I don't." His face scrunches up, the idea seeming to pain him. "I guess I just don't think of you as a, you know, girl - ow!" Eustace cradles his foot in his hand with a scowl. "What did I do now?"
When Jill's look makes it clear she intends to kick him again, his brain catches up with surprising speed. "Oh. I meant - you're just not - like most girls. But that's not bad, it's more...good. So, really, you, um...Golly, you make a great girl, Jill, alright?"
She rolls her eyes, but can't help the blush that creeps swiftly across her cheeks, because she never has been able to judge when he'll say something like that, awkward but honest, and throw her off all over again. Her lips tug into a lop-sided smile and she leans forward, chuckling at Eustace's expression in the hazy light. He gulps, the swallow comically working its way down his throat like something swiped straight from a cartoon. She takes it as encouragement and leans even closer, pausing to gauge his reaction, only a breath away from touching him. Before she can rethink the action she presses a quick kiss to his cheek, pulling back with a hesitant but triumphant smile.
He blinks, eyes locked on her face. It takes her a moment to realize he's still poised as if he expects her to pummel him at any second.
The trouble with Eustace, Jill decides, is that he doesn't notice much.
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