Y'know the times when dandies(?) had their adorable friend 'second' for them in a duel?
ms_nerd would be my second and she would KICK my challenger's ass!!!
And then drive me home in a horse drawn carriage as we drank claret and sang lusty songs.
bossymarmalade left this comment:
oooh! oooh! Can I be your drunken roustabout gambler friend?!?!
Which got me thinking and I came back with:
I see this being cast with *NSyncers.
Dandy = JC
Dandy's Second = Lance
Roustabout Gambler Friend = Christopher
Insulted Dandy = Justin
Insulted Dandy's 'Jovial' Friend and (Second?) = Joey
run with it my little poppit.
"You realize Timberlake's a crack shot," Lance remarked casually, holding JC's frock-coat on a couple of fingertips. JC leveled a flat stare at him.
"I'll choose swords, then," he said, tossing his hair artfully before clubbing it back with a scrap of leather. "Not to boast, but I've a good enough hand with a blade --"
Chris sidled over, rubbing at the wine-stains on his shabby vest waistcoat. "All ready, then? My advice, choose pistols. Timberlake's got the best swordsmaster in the county."
JC's mouth tightened. "Thank you," he said icily as Lance snickered behind him. "I'll keep that in mind. Do you think that since you're to witness this duel, you could have *not* had port for breakfast this morning, Chris?"
"I'll have you know I had more than port, you gentrified minstrel." Chris thumped his chest in a dignified manner. "I found a hard tack biscuit in my coat pocket, and I had *that*."
The approach of Timberlake and his second prevented JC from responding. He drew himself up and watched quietly as the two came closer, sketching bows when they halted.
"I thank you for honouring my challenge," Timberlake said haughtily. JC noticed with envy that he had fine embroidery on his cuffs, and resented his own disintegrating lace cuffs even more. "What weapon shall it be?"
"Pistols, I should say."
Fatone, Timberlake's second, cleared his throat. "Ours should provide adequate."
JC tilted his head in acquiescence. Really, he was quite glad Fatone had offered, since the pistols that Lance brought were family heirlooms and tended to misfire. But Lance had offered them like they were his own children, and JC hadn't had the heart to recoil in horror.
"Are you certain you won't reconsider?" Fatone was asking him. "All Justin wants is an apology.Timberlake opened his mouth, but Fatone elbowed him hard in the ribs and he subsided, frowning. "A simple recant of your words would satisfy his honour just fine."
JC blinked. "Um," he said. "Um." Lance stepped smoothly up behind him.
"Perhaps if your young friend hadn't overreacted to a simple criticism of his singing, there would be no quarrel," Lance intoned. Timberlake flushed in a bad-tempered way. "Start shooting already!" Chris shouted from the back. JC stopped himself from rolling his eyes.
"See here, Timberlake," he said. "Perhaps I was a bit deep in my cups that night and commented harshly. But the fact of the matter is, um..." JC glanced nervously at Joey, who was opening his pistol-case and examining a lovely smoothbore flintlock, "...we're both artists. And my criticism was from one artist to the other."
Timberlake's mouth twitched and he dipped his head. "Artist?" he said, sounding pleased. Lance sighed in exasperation; JC shushed him.
"Yes," JC said. "So you see, I can't apologize. Not in good conscience for a word of opinion about a peer's craft." He drew himself up again. "If you still wish to duel, I will do my best to give you satisfaction. However, if you wish to forget all of this, we shall retire to my friend Chris' inn, drink claret, and discuss poetry and songs all the night away."
Timberlake was smiling now, slightly pink over his nose and cheeks. "Yes," he said shyly. "Yes, I'd like that very much." He gestured at Fatone, who gave JC a wink and began packing the pistols away. Lance held JC's coat for him to slide his arms into as Chris trotted over, a look of great disappointment on his face.
"What," he asked, "you're not dueling? But I had money riding on you dying!"
"Another day, Christopher," JC said loftily. "Today, you must dig into your wine cellar for the young gentleman and myself; we have great art to discuss!" JC waved at Justin before getting into his own carriage; Lance thumped the top of the hansom and they lurched into motion.
"Your incredible luck again," Lance remarked, grinning. JC undid his hair.
"Luck? That was all the work of my silver tongue, my friend."
Lance settled down in the cab.
"Well, we'll see how your luck holds out tomorrow in the duel you have scheduled with the gambler who accused you of cheating."
"Oh," JC said, somewhat deflated. "Oh. Yes." He plucked at his much-hated lace cuffs. "Lance, a trip to Atlanta sounds delicious this time of year, doesn't it?"
And now I post this:
I'm still dizzy with delight! And must find a way to persuade her to delight me some more.
What did the two young dandies discuss in Kirkpatrick's ale house? Did they tip their cups one too many times and find themselves tumbling in the hay like a couple of lusty wenches?
Did dandy!JC invite dandy!Justin and his second!Fatone to join him and his second!Lance in Atlanta?
How do I get her to write more? How? Pray tell can anyone help me?