Greed - L'avare jeune
Feb. 5th, 2006 11:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dolevalanFandom: Gankutsuou
Characters/Pairing: Albert de Morcerf/Franz d'Epinay
Prompt: 1 - Greed
Word Count: 419
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Characters, situations, etc. not mine. Mild spoilers for episode 5.
Author's Notes: I'm still not completely satisfied with this one...ah well. Weekend of relative writer's block. Oh, and for the Sweeney fans out there, don't despair; I've been working on a slightly longer fic (or perhaps an interconnected series of fics), so it may be a bit, but I haven't forgotten you. Sit tight!
Albert was irritated. He had thought the count’s invitation was a private one, and it had irked him more than he was willing to admit to find the others waiting for him, ready to criticize his outfit, to crack jokes. They were his friends, true. They shouldn’t irritate him so much. But he couldn’t help it. If he was honest, it was why he had let himself be drawn into a fight with Maximillian; he was looking for a way to release some of the frustration that had been building all day.
He had spent the entire afternoon, storing up every look, every word that set him apart. The Count didn’t treat Franz the same way that he treated Albert, much less Maximillian or Beauchamps. But it wasn’t enough. Surrounded by splendor and beauty…wonders, marvels everywhere he looked…the taste of the afternoon was soured by having to share it.
He snuck a glance over at Franz. Franz certainly couldn’t appreciate it. He’d been on edge for months now, and the gleaming marvel under the Champs-Elysées seemed to have no visible effect on him. No wonder the Count chose Albert to talk to. Franz was a block of wood sometimes. Albert inwardly sighed. He couldn’t help but worry the Count would think less of him, because of the denseness of his friends.
They had stolen some time, in the cave, after the Count had saved his life. Again. Even if he hadn’t wanted so badly to be the man’s friend, to win his trust, surely he owed him something for all his help. Why couldn’t Franz see it? Why couldn’t he just let Albert be?
The car sped through the darkened Parisian streets, and Albert stared out at the rain, blurring the electric patterns of the nighttime city. He could feel Franz sitting next to him, like the weight of a heavy hand on his shoulder, but he was doing his best to ignore it. To pretend he was alone. He wanted to gather up every word the Count had said; to engrave them on his memory, so he would never loose a single word that had passed between them.
“Hey…Albert…”
The boy sighed, without turning to look at Franz. Maybe it was best this way. If Franz had understood how admirable and fascinating the Count was, perhaps the Count would have chosen both of them. Or not chosen Albert at all.
Yes, it was best this way. He just wished he could have the Count, truly, all to himself.
Characters/Pairing: Albert de Morcerf/Franz d'Epinay
Prompt: 1 - Greed
Word Count: 419
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Characters, situations, etc. not mine. Mild spoilers for episode 5.
Author's Notes: I'm still not completely satisfied with this one...ah well. Weekend of relative writer's block. Oh, and for the Sweeney fans out there, don't despair; I've been working on a slightly longer fic (or perhaps an interconnected series of fics), so it may be a bit, but I haven't forgotten you. Sit tight!
Albert was irritated. He had thought the count’s invitation was a private one, and it had irked him more than he was willing to admit to find the others waiting for him, ready to criticize his outfit, to crack jokes. They were his friends, true. They shouldn’t irritate him so much. But he couldn’t help it. If he was honest, it was why he had let himself be drawn into a fight with Maximillian; he was looking for a way to release some of the frustration that had been building all day.
He had spent the entire afternoon, storing up every look, every word that set him apart. The Count didn’t treat Franz the same way that he treated Albert, much less Maximillian or Beauchamps. But it wasn’t enough. Surrounded by splendor and beauty…wonders, marvels everywhere he looked…the taste of the afternoon was soured by having to share it.
He snuck a glance over at Franz. Franz certainly couldn’t appreciate it. He’d been on edge for months now, and the gleaming marvel under the Champs-Elysées seemed to have no visible effect on him. No wonder the Count chose Albert to talk to. Franz was a block of wood sometimes. Albert inwardly sighed. He couldn’t help but worry the Count would think less of him, because of the denseness of his friends.
They had stolen some time, in the cave, after the Count had saved his life. Again. Even if he hadn’t wanted so badly to be the man’s friend, to win his trust, surely he owed him something for all his help. Why couldn’t Franz see it? Why couldn’t he just let Albert be?
The car sped through the darkened Parisian streets, and Albert stared out at the rain, blurring the electric patterns of the nighttime city. He could feel Franz sitting next to him, like the weight of a heavy hand on his shoulder, but he was doing his best to ignore it. To pretend he was alone. He wanted to gather up every word the Count had said; to engrave them on his memory, so he would never loose a single word that had passed between them.
“Hey…Albert…”
The boy sighed, without turning to look at Franz. Maybe it was best this way. If Franz had understood how admirable and fascinating the Count was, perhaps the Count would have chosen both of them. Or not chosen Albert at all.
Yes, it was best this way. He just wished he could have the Count, truly, all to himself.
