Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

On a boat with his least favorite person in the world.

That sounded harsh, but it was probably more of a testament to how good Eric’s life had been over the past few years. He didn’t particularly dislike anyone, anymore – and thus the trophy had to go to Rudyard, who Eric found rather admirable in some ways. Granted, his opinion had gone down considerably now that Rudyard was making his girlfriend sad.

To nobody’s surprise, the pair had been announced promptly. Rudyard Funn and Eric Chapman.

Onto the Friend Dinghy they went a few weeks later, with a nervous Antigone wringing her dress within an inch of her life. Eric could practically hear Rudyard grinding his teeth when he gave her a kiss on the cheek goodbye.

He checked his wristwatch. Officially, they had been on the Friend Dinghy for three hours and forty-two minutes. Zero words had been passed between them. Felt odd, to silently be on a sailboat with someone. Rudyard was curled up by the bow of the ship, looking pointedly away.

Eric sat on the edge of the stern. He’d taken off his shoes and rolled up his trouser legs. The water was refreshingly cold on his calves, and he kicked merrily in the water. It was nice to get out on the ocean every so often, wasn’t it?

His gaze was still on Piffling Vale – not very far away, close enough where Eric could still see the banners and flower decorations set up for the festival. Somewhere on the island stood the love of his life.

God, he wished he wasn’t out here. Sun was well and good, but he’d wanted to get his girlfriend an ice cream. Unfortunately, he was out here on a boat with someone that well and truly hated him, no matter what Antigone said. Plenty of people had hated Eric before in his life, he knew what it looked like.

And it was dreadful, what Rudyard was doing. Worst of all, Eric felt dreadful over it – he hated the sensation that he’d bumbled his way into dividing the Funn family.

They had until sunset, then? Great. Another ten hours of this. Eric pulled his gaze away from Piffling Vale to look in the water. This felt like a sort of punishment. For doing what, exactly? Coming to Piffling Vale and starting an extremely narrow business on a sparsely populated island?

… huh. Actually, there might’ve been something to that.

He heard a gentle clinking behind him and turned to see that Rudyard had stood and was mucking about with the sail. Perhaps foreseeing the future, Rudyard had changed into a full body swimsuit. With the stripes, he looked like an escapee from an underwater prison.

Eric had opted for a more sensible camp shirt and khakis.

“Please don’t capsize us,” he remarked flatly. He couldn’t even summon imaginary goodwill anymore, not in this situation. Eric had tried, of course. For ages, he’d pleasantly withstood Rudyard patently denying his existence.

Rudyard continued to adjust the rigging. “This is not my first time on the Friend Dinghy, Edgar,” he uttered. “I know how to man the sails.”

Great. Lovely. Fantastic. He was starting to talk. Eric was starting to regret opening his mouth. Of course Rudyard knew how to sail a sailboat. Of course he had been on this bloody dinghy before.

“And have you ever thought about why you get put on this boat so often?” He quipped, returning his gaze to the ocean horizon. “Ever think, mm, perhaps I ought to make some personal changes? Build some bridges?”

Rudyard’s response was immediate and flippant. “Elvin, it’s very rude to offer life advice to a stranger.”

“Are you just going to be like this forever? Am I going to marry Antigone and you’re still going to have every name that starts with E memorized?”

“Marriage,” Rudyard scoffed. “Don’t be crass.”

Perhaps Antigone’s initial concern that they’d end up killing one another was not entirely unfounded. He certainly felt the urge rising up from the very core of him. No, marriage was an extremely long way off, if ever, but he was so frustrated with this impossible bloody man.

He took his legs back in from the water and stood, rising to his full height on the boat. Though he was shorter than Antigone by a few inches, he practically towered over Rudyard. He held his hands out on either side of him.

“Yes, Rudyard, marriage. I might marry your sister one day. And you know what that would make us?” Eric couldn’t suppress the smirk rising to his face. “Brothers. That would make us brothers.”

Oh. Oh, dear. That was nothing short of homicidal rage, wasn’t it? He could see a vein flexing in Rudyard’s pale forehead. Rudyard stomped over from the front of the vessel, and a past-life instinct flickered through Eric’s mind about whether he ought to prepare for a frontal attack, before two things happened simultaneously.

One, Rudyard reared his entire arm back. Eric would later presume that he was either about to give him a mean right hook or, more likely, jab his finger directly into his chest.

For the other, Rudyard’s insensible funeral shoes (worn in tandem with the bathing suit, of course) came into contact with the puddle of water Eric had just tracked into the boat.

His legs went out from underneath him. In one second, Rudyard was standing upright. In another, he slipped and struck his leg against the side of the ship, before tumbling right over. Rudyard fell into the water with an ignoble splash! and his dark hair swiftly disappeared beneath the waves.

“Oh – shit,” Eric cursed.

He toed off his shoes and yanked off his shirt. “Coming for you, Rudyard!” Eric called, only a half-second before executing a familiar dive into the ocean below.

The waters were dark but relatively warm, to Eric’s relief. He opened his eyes and saw Rudyard a few feet in front of him. In the murk and confusion, he’d somehow gotten underneath the boat, and his hands scrambled frantically along the underside of the hull.

He didn’t know how strong of a swimmer Rudyard was, but the water wasn’t all that calm and shock could kill skill, anyway.

Eric swam forward and got ahold of Rudyard by the back of his bathing suit. Rudyard whipped around to face him with bulging eyes, bubbles escaping in a steady stream from his nose. I got you, he tried to mentally impart, please do not drown us both. I will be very cross if you drown us both.

He slid an arm around Rudyard’s chest and made a break for the surface. To his relief, Rudyard assisted him by kicking them both upward.

They broke through the surface of the ocean. Blessed sweet air, beautiful sunlight, the sound of faraway surf – “Oh my god,” Eric huffed.

“Hh. Hh.” Rudyard was practically panting next to him, one arm around his shoulders still. They both kicked to stay afloat, and for a second, getting back onto the Friend Dinghy seemed insurmountable.

Unless they worked together. “Okay, okay. Up – up you go,” he muttered, throwing his other arm around Rudyard’s middle. It took some maneuvering (and a kick to the kidney, so clearly accidental that Eric couldn’t complain), but eventually, he was shoving Rudyard up and over the side of the boat. The boat rocked a little ominously, and that was an awfully loud thump from Rudyard hitting the bottom of it, but – there he was.

An instinctive pessimism chirped up from the back of his head. He’s going to leave you in the water, it crooned. Best try to swim back to Piffling Vale now, Chapman, or else you’ll drown.

… Seconds passed. Rudyard wasn’t leaning over the edge. Eric couldn’t force himself up and over the side of the boat without tipping the whole thing over.

That was too far. This odd rivalry was one thing, but – this was tantamount to murder! Rudyard wouldn’t truly kill him. He wasn’t that sort of man. Impulsive and stubborn, a dangerous combination, but Rudyard didn’t want him dead.

Then again, the evidence in front of his own eyes …

“Rudyard!” Eric shouted from the surface of the water. “RUDYARD!”

“Calm down!” Came the reply. “For god’s sake, I’m right here. Nobody has any patience these days.”

Rudyard leaned out over the edge of the boat, extending his hand out to the man in the water. That was all Eric needed. He momentarily fretted that he’d pull Rudyard right over the edge, but miraculously, Rudyard held steady as Eric swung himself over the side of the boat and onto the bottom. Breathing hard, he rolled over onto his back.

God, out of practice with that sort of thing.

Rudyard tossed his dry shirt on top of his body. Eric instinctively caught it. Looking at his companion, he instinctively saw the reason for the short delay.

Rudyard had found a rope in the emergency kit. One end was tied around his middle, the other securely fastened around the central mast. Eric looked at Rudyard, and then over the edge of the boat.

Look, it wasn’t that he thought Rudyard was stupid. Rudyard was a man who followed his impulses, and how could he blame a man for having the occasional stupid impulse? Just, tying himself to the boat to prevent Eric from tipping it over as he pulled himself up was … more consequence realization than he thought Rudyard was capable of.

With a calm whistle, Rudyard began to untie the rope from around his waist.

“Are you, uh, alright?” Eric asked as he stood up.

Rudyard seemed to survey himself. “It’s going to bruise like anything,” he eventually admitted, tenderly probing around his midsection. “So thank you for that.”

Even the cold shock of water couldn’t keep Eric from shooting out one more barb. “You’re welcome for saving your life.”

“Mm.” At first, he thought that was all he’d get. Rudyard finished untying the rope and stowed it securely away. “Well, congratulations, Chapman. I’ve never fallen off the Friend Dinghy before.”

Chapman, eh? Well, well, well.

“Oh, wipe that smile off your face.”

Fair enough. He brought his knees against his chest and let his back rest against the side of the boat. “What usually happens on the Friend Dinghy, then? Since you’re Piffling’s most qualified expert.”

“Fishing. Sleeping. Existential pondering,” Rudyard explained, “And then, in the last thirty minutes, we concoct some story about how we’re the best of friends and sail back.” He moved to sit by the front of the boat himself. Eric fancied that neither of them were particularly keen on sitting on the edge again.

“Concocting a story? I think I could manage that.”

“Yes, yes, Chapman, we all know you’re a compulsive liar.”

Oh, he was much too cold and aching to bite back a retort now. He rolled his arms back and used his wet shirt to mop the water from his face. Everything tasted of salt. Beautiful. They sat in silence for a minute or so longer, during which Eric thought about how bad it would’ve been if he returned to Piffling without Rudyard aboard. That was another absconding in the night, for sure, and – and he didn’t like the idea of that.

“Are you really going to marry my sister.” Eric could barely hear Rudyard’s words over the ocean, and the odd phrasing made it seem rather more like a statement than anything else. When he looked up, he saw that Rudyard’s gaze was fully on the boat itself. His expression was inscrutable.

God, he hadn’t even talked about it with Antigone yet, and here he was discussing it with her brother. “I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it at all. Even if we do, it wouldn’t be for many years.” Many, many years. Though Eric would’ve agreed in a heartbeat if Antigone had shown even a passing interest in marriage … he had to cautiously admit that maybe his tendencies towards immediate commitment weren’t the healthiest.

“Hm.”

“I only said that to rile you up.” A pause. “It was unfair of me, I’m sorry.”

And he was. Riling Rudyard up never let to anything good. You couldn’t out-badger Rudyard. Rudyard would be the last person alive on Earth, just out of spite. On the other end of the boat, Rudyard tucked his legs up to his chest. “Suppose I didn’t do you any favours,” he muttered.

Oh. That was almost an apology. That was so close to an apology.

Perhaps …

“I try and do right by her, you know,” Eric explained in a low tone. “If you’re worried about that, or, or god forbid, me harming her, I don’t think I could ever –”

“It’s not that. High and mighty Eric Chapman, perfect chivalrous knight, came into all of our lives and brought sunshine and rainbows straight from his arse – besides,” Rudyard added with a bit of a devilish glee, “If you did, then she’d ask me to help you hide the body.”

“Right.”

“Georgie would be the one to kill you, she and I have already agreed.”

“Fantastic.”

“With a shovel, if she found you outside. With formaldehyde, if you were inside.”

“Great.” A pause. “No, really, I mean it. If I ever harm Antigone, toss my body into the sea.”

“Your opinion is noted and dismissed.” Rudyard clicked his tongue to signify it, and then a thoughtful expression crossed his face. “You’re the most infuriating person I’ve ever met, Chapman, but it’s not your – your status as a suitor that I take umbrage with. She’s chosen you, for better or for worse.”

“In sickness and in health, I suppose. What do you take umbrage with?”

He didn’t get an answer right away. Instead, Rudyard rose his head from his knees to look back over the rim of the boat. His gaze was firmly on Piffling Vale. The tiny, nondescript little island. Eric had remembered an almost enormous wave of relief when he’d first seen it. Nobody would find him there. He could do as he wanted.

“Chapman …” His voice was faraway. “Have you ever had someone in your life that … they’re not necessarily your favourite person, or the person you have the most in common with, or the person you like the most. But they’ve always been there, and they always will be. You know them. The sun rises, the sky is blue, and she –”

Oh. Hell. Rudyard’s voice broke. Eric pointedly looked away.

“And they are there.”

“No,” Eric answered after a moment’s thought. He’d known the answer immediately, but debated on sharing it. “No, I can’t say that I have.”

Rudyard hummed in the back of his throat. “Pity for you.”

The water lapped at the sides of the Friend Dinghy while Eric tried to understand. A fear that Eric would somehow take Antigone away? That Antigone would let herself be taken away?

“For the longest time, I thought Antigone was like me. I thought that long after I stopped believing everyone was like me. Spent an awful long time in my adolescence wondering why people threw such big parties to celebrate tax benefits.”

Mm. Eric shifted one knee up to his chest and tilted his head to the side, fascinated.

“Of course, she liked her romance films, her smut novels. She had little affections when we were in school, but she never really acted on them, so I thought …” He paused. “But, no. She has genuine romantic -” The word was uttered with some exhaustion, “Affection for you. Which means that I’ve been wrong my entire life, and I’m – and she’s not – “ A pause. “That Rudyard Funn is the odd duckling. Again.”

God. He didn’t know what to say to that. What could he say?

“And if I was wrong about that, did I ever really know Antigone at all.” It wasn’t a question. “Perhaps I was wrong, about Antigone always being a constant in my life. Perhaps she will run off with you, someday. Perhaps I’m the …” Another lengthy pause. “Perhaps Antigone is perfectly normal, and I’m the abnormal one, and everyone will always move on.”

“Antigone is not perfectly normal!” Eric protested, and right, yes, he hadn’t known what to say, and instead he’d said the exact wrong thing. Well, it was right, but he’d liked – this wasn’t the time to go into all that.

He turned to look towards Rudyard finally, and was surprised by the depth of vulnerability he saw written over the man’s face. Rudyard was resting his head on his knees, staring off at his village. He didn’t act as if he’d heard Eric’s exclamation.

“Rudyard, I …” How best to go about this. Eric hesitated, and went on. “I’ve been trying to get Antigone to take holiday with me. Anywhere in the world that she wanted, I told her.”

Rudyard’s arm tightened around his knees.

“She won’t. She refuses to leave Piffling Vale under any circumstances. Maybe she’ll change her mind someday and we’ll have a week skiing in the Alps, but – but Rudyard, I can’t seriously imagine Antigone ever wanting to leave Piffling, or you.”

Not a word from him.

“And yes, perhaps you are different in the romantic department, but – but -” He had to resist the urge to go over there, put a hand on Rudyard’s shoulder. “But she understands you, Rudyard. She cares about you, and she’s been losing her mind over the past few months because you’ve been so … so stubborn about all this. She thinks she’s caused some unforgivable rift between you two, just because she’s dating me.”

There, Rudyard flicked his eyes over. Eric caught a flash of genuine fear in his eyes, and then he was back to staring at the village.

“She doesn’t care that you two are different. It doesn’t mean that she thinks any differently of you. You’re still her brother.” A pause. That meant a lot of things, didn’t it? A brother could be a good many things. He might be Rudyard’s brother one day. “You’re still her person, Rudyard, just like she’s yours.”

The sun was slowly starting to dry his hair and his shoulders, the warm rays beating down on him. He could see Rudyard’s Adam apple bobbing up and down in his throat, though he tried to hide it. God. Eventually, Rudyard seemed to swallow. “Just seems like everyone’s pairing off,” he eventually muttered. “Her, Georgie. For a very long time, the only pair that mattered was Antigone and I, and – and then it seemed like everyone grew up, without me.”

Hell. Eric was starting to feel something forming in the base of his throat. Though he and Rudyard couldn’t be more different, really …

He understood what it felt like to be alone. Perhaps not in that way, sure, but the reasons for loneliness seemed piffling when it came down to it.

“It’s not about growing up, Rudyard. You’re a full grown man. Having a – having a romantic other doesn’t change that.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re giving me a lecture.”

“Because I’m a pedantic twat, have you met me?”

Rudyard flashed him the briefest of smiles at that. Despite himself, Eric smiled back. “You still have Georgie and Madeleine, too. Sounds to me like it hasn’t been just you and Antigone for a long while.”

(For the first time, he noticed the little pocket sewn on the front of his swim suit. Empty, and given that Rudyard wasn’t panicking ... Eric was suddenly very grateful that the mouse hadn’t been brought along on the Friend Dinghy. What an ignoble way for a celebrated author to end.)

“I suppose not.” Rudyard relented, though still uncertain. “I just don’t understand. Was she truly so unhappy with me and the others that she had to go and find a boyfriend? Were we not enough, did it escape my notice?”

“I don’t know if it works like that. It didn’t work like that for me. When I first met Antigone, I …”

Oo, Rudyard’s gaze had turned dangerous. He foresaw another tumble into the water if he truthfully explained the odd first impression he’d had with Antigone. “I didn’t have any romantic feeling for her,” he instead said, hastily. It was the truth. “And then, after I grew to know her, and after we became friends – well, friends of a sort – then … it just hit me one day, Rudyard. Completely unavoidable.”

“Like a wart.”

“Ehm, like a wart, yes. It wasn’t that I was unhappy with my life before. Perhaps if I ignored it enough, then it would have gone away. But I didn’t want to, and she didn’t want to, either. And here we are.”

It was perhaps the least un-romantic way to describe such things, but it seemed like Rudyard preferred it explained like that. It wasn’t wrong.

Rudyard seemed to chew on Eric’s words. “I suppose,” he eventually said.

“And I think she’d sooner kill me than leave you to be alone.”

“Are those the only two options?”

“I mean it, Rudyard. If Antigone ever seems like she wants you out of her life, then you’ve got to tell me. Because it means Antigone’s been replaced by aliens, and I’d like to perform a vivisection.”

A pause. “You sound like Antigone when you say that.”

“We’ve been rubbing off on each other.”

The look of sheer horror and disgust that crossed Rudyard’s face made Eric start to chuckle, and then chortle. In response, Rudyard chucked the first aid kit in Eric’s direction with intent to kill. Eric caught it and shook his head, willing himself to calm his nerves. “You should talk to her. Put your worries to bed.”

“Well …” Rudyard seemed to consider. “Perhaps.” He gestured with his chin towards the sail. “Unless I could tempt you to leave. I could row you to the next island over, I’ll tell everyone you died in a tragic boating accident. Nobody has to know.”

Eric shook his head at the mere suggestion. “Oh, no. I can’t do that a second time, it’s just chancing fate.”

And then, to his overwhelming surprise, Rudyard actually rolled his eyes at him.

Suddenly, a few more hours in the Friend Dinghy didn’t seem half so daunting.