Chapter Text
Isaac shuddered against the light breeze - at least that's what he told himself caused that fluttering feeling. In all truth, no matter how much he, or his respective Military rank denied the fact: Isaac hated feeling the weight of a rifle in his hands. It was tedious to hold, far too loud to bear, stunk of grease and gunpowder, and - worst of all - meant death.
But now, as he gazed through that eyeglass- sight landing a certain Lieutenant-Colonel- Isaac felt near to weightless. A buzzing stuttered in his chest, and sent yet another shiver down his spine, following by a red hot emotion he couldn't quite place. It simmered, shuttered and popped until he couldn't bear it any longer and had to the drop the muzzle. Another feeling: Shame, one Isaac had grown quite accustomed to lately- had chased that burning away, and the Captain was left with a dreadful hollow feeling in his chest.
-- That feeling - the buzzing burn Isaac had no name for - never quite went away. In fact, unfortunately, he would even venture to say it grew stronger once he actually spoke to the British officer. Nigel Chessum, he learned his name was, and in a short fleeting moment Isaac couldn't help but think how beautiful that given name would sound falling softly from from his own lips. The thought was followed by the heat, which, in turn, was always followed by the shame.
"Ah, Captain Higgintoot!"
200 and some odd years later, and they had still stuck to the formalities. Of course they had, Isaac berated himself, they had no reason not to. Though, silently, and with a fluttering in his stomach he was less and less convinced was dysentery eachtime it happened, Isaac wished to only once hear his first name called fondly from that voice. He smiled anyway.
"Lieutenant Colonel Chessum," Isaac acknowledged, clearing the pitch in his voice with a subtle shake of his head. He smoothed the lapels of his jacket- not that it was needed, but he suddenly felt as though he was not nearly presentable enough. "This is an.. Unexpected parlay. What brings you to the Manor?" It was pathetic, he thought, how hard it was to keep his voice steady.
"Just some.. Matters. Regarding the shed. Samantha and I seem to have it sorted out already." There never failed to be a sort of thrill go down Isaac's spine at the sound of Nigel's voice; soft and high, spoken with a sort of dignity Isaac only wished he had. Nigel shifted where he stood, and even from Isaac's position on the stairs, he could see the way the other fidgeted with his hands behind his back. There was that rush, again.
Isaac failed to find words- other than a soft 'ah,' of acknowledgement. The silence stretched for- probably not as long as it felt like- until one of Nigel's men cleared his throat, motioning back towards the door with an irritated look. Isaac didn't miss the glare Nigel sent him, though it was gone in an instant as he turned back to face Isaac, a bright smile- sheepish around the edges, as it was- on his face. Yet another stutter in Isaac's unnecessary heartbeat.
"Well, I suppose we ought to see our leave." Nigel announced with a hint of hesitation- and another kind of feeling clutched at Isaac's chest (disappointment, he could name, though he was baffled at himself as to why that was the emotion that decided to make itself known at this moment.) He nodded dumbly, still at an uncharacteristic loss for words. "It was a pleasure to see you, Captain. Adieu." He seemed more confident in those words, even if his smile fell more and more sheepish by the second.
"As always," Isaac muttered softly, watching the Officer now his head, before leading his men out the door. Isaac stumbled for a second- he hadn't prepared to speak to the other man today, as he typically planned, and the spontaneity of the situation caused a chaotic string of panic to barrel through his mind. "Well, back to the closet." He managed, placing his mind back on the matters he was attending to before the intrusion.
"What?" Sam's head swiveled to look at him, baffled and strangely enough, a little amused. "To look for Jay's shirt." He clarified, bowing his head slightly before turning and hauling tail back up the stairs. Shame followed, clung to his back like a vice.
It only took a few hours for Pete to hunt him down. Well, not hunt, as the Scout Master himself denied numerous times, but he found Isaac in the kitchen, his eyes fixated on something out the window. Pete saddled up next to him, silently at first, staring out at the trees and bushes in an attempt to find what it was Isaac was looking at. He didn't need to, he knew what was out in that direction.
"You wanna talk about it?" Pete asked softly, as though speaking too loud would alert the house to the detection of new drama to stir- and, knowing the house, it would likely be stirred. Isaac hummed in inquiry- he was sure there was some big dilemma that occurred earlier this day that Pete had wanted to get an insider on, but Isaac was far too concerned with more recent hours to remember. Namely, a singular two-minute interaction.
"You know, you and Nigel." Isaac, if asked, absolutely did not sputter and choke on air at the mention of the Lieutenant Colonel. The man's name sent that strange emotion spiking through his veins in a way he had grown familiar with- a way it did as he woke up with Nigel on his mind, dreams that lingered in the form of flushed spectral skin and an unfortunate displacement of blood.
"What- what about us?" Isaac managed to stutter out, a heavier heat spreading across his skin, and it suddenly felt far too cramped in the room. Pete chuckled, but fell silent quickly, as though he was expecting Isaac to continue. He didn't. "You're- you're serious?" Pete questioned, looking far too shocked, and shaking his head like he knew something Isaac didn't. "Oh, you're serious."
Pete sighed, pacing for only a moment, in that odd, tight circle he tended to trace while he thought. "Well, I mean, at least you notice all that tension between you two?" He said eventually, exasperated and nearly hopeful in nature. Isaac's hands twitched lightly from their post at his back- of course he noticed the tension, at least that that radiated off of himself. He'd been buried to the neck in shame on more occasions than once, having whispered Nigel's name during his more private experimentations, or imagining the way his own would sound falling breathlessly through that accent.
He huffed quietly, shaking his head at his friend. Those thoughts were simply the ever persistent clutches of lust that held no emotional correlation to the Officer himself. Simply his form, was all. Though, that still wouldn't do as an answer for anyone besides him and the devine forces, so he simply turned to the next best preservation. "Of course there's tension, we're sworn enemies after all."
Pete sighed again. "You don't get it, do you?" His frustration dwindled, and he turned to give Isaac a sad smile. Isaac nearly felt bad for concealling the truth from him - almost - as understanding as Pete was. He nudged Isaac's elbow with his own, smile falling into a more fond expression. "You get that feeling in your chest? The fluttering- when you're around him?"
Isaac stiffened, shocked - and only a little embarrassed - that his emotions had been put to words. He turned back to the window, his voice choppy and artificial. "Dysentery," he dismissed. "-Or that rush of warmth that kicks your heartrate up?" Pete rolled his eyes as he spoke- a hint of amusement creeping into the edges of his words. Isaac stuttered, mumbling and rambling over words he didn't put thought into, and was promptly interrupted.
"It feels nice, doesn't it? That thrill?" Isaac's words drifted to an end- defeated, he must admit Pete wasn't wrong. Isaac sighed before he spoke, his eyes gluing back to the trees as wrung his hands together. "It's not.. Unpleasant." Isaac admitted, not too much louder than a whisper. There was that shame, again.
"I know. That's love." Pete boldly suggested, bumping their shoulders together with a wistful sigh. He perched his elbow up on Isaac's shoulder- with considerable effort, considering the Captain's height. Isaac shook his head, fighting back the tremor in his joints. "It's lust. A sin I'm working on rebuking." He argued.
"No," Pete shot back almost too quickly. "No, it's love. The kind that lingers. The beautiful kind, that comes with that giddy feeling everytime you see them." They finally turned to face each other, and through Isaac's own racing heart and thoughts, he found the sincerity under Pete's wonder-filled expression. "It's a fire that ignites under you with a simple smile, or a small 'hello.' It's that give-and-recieve of joy, as happiness bounces off the two of you like a game of pong. I've seen you two interact."
Isaac may not have been able to appreciate the metaphor in it's entirety, but the words made sense. They made sense, and against all Isaac wished to be true, Pete was right. It was the littlest things that sent that thrill down his spine, and more pure thoughts sent a warmth through his veins. "If it was lust, Isaac," he turned at his name- connecting their eyes once more as Pete's voice grew more serious. "It wouldn't have just been him."
And good god, what a statement that was. It was just him, wasn't it? Not his features, not the lithe form of his body, not simply his voice, and not a firey fantasy Isaac's mind formed as he lay in bed late at night. It was Nigel, and it was love. He absolutely loved Nigel, and that realization sent another shiver and harsher rush of heat down his spine.
And as always, the shame followed.