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Haddock had been sober enough that night to remember one did not show such close affection to someone they’d just met, so instead he had blurted,

Murdered – in me bed! – by a babyfaced assassin!

when really, he had wanted to say,

Saved, from me fate, by a babyfaced angel.

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“This whole crazy business, Tintin. I don’t know where I’d be without you. You saved me, lad. From my crew! I don’t know how I could ever repay something like that.”

The lad continued applying the salve, taking care to be gentle over the most nastiest of welts and bruises on his back. And then, in a quiet voice,

“Was that why you chose not to tell them? Back in the tunnel?”

Haddock’s eyes snapped open, heart accidentally missing a beat. “What – what do you mean?” But he already knew.

“I heard what they asked, Captain.” Those fingers smoothed over one last stroke, and lifted. He returned the salve to the trolly, wiped his fingers; placed down the washcloth. “You didn’t have to protect me, you know,” he tugged down Haddock’s sweater for him, “otherwise your poor back needn’t have suffered so mu—”

“Aye! And allow those pilfering pocketing pirates the satisfaction of winning?” he snorted. Then, realizing his cheeks were flushed, hurriedly turned his face to the other side of the pillow so the lad couldn’t see. And then, in a quiet voice,

“Besides...I wanted to.”

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This is the story of grumpy Mister Haddock who tends the most beautiful flower shop in all of Brussels, and the young delivery driver who drops a new shipment every single morning in a whirl of petals and fragrance and everything sweetly floral.

Until one day, the delivery van breaks down.

“They said they’ll be here in half an hour,” said the young lad, pocketing his phone.

“Would you…like to wait in the shop?”

The lad blinked. “That’s awfully kind of you, but I wouldn’t want to disturb your work—”

“It-it’s fine!” For some reason Haddock felt his face growing warm, and quickly turned back inside. “Come on in.”

With a grateful smile, the lad followed him into the shop. “I’m Tintin, by the way.”

“Haddock. Archibald Haddock.”

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They tangled around on the Captain’s bed, cozy and secretive underneath the covers.

“...Captain...Captain! That tickles...” Tintin laughed as the Captain continued nuzzling him, whiskers brushing softly over the skin of his neck.

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Did I ever tell you? You are the reason I can fly without wings, and touch every star in the sky. The reason for all my wishful dreams, and impossible sleepless nights. You are the reason, the reason I can brave through any storm and find my way home to shore.

So please...wake up.



“...Captain?” Tintin’s eyes fluttered softly. “Captain...why are you crying?”

“Tintin! You silly SILLY fool!” He threw his arms around the lad and cried into his sweater. “Thank heavens, I thought that, that you had…oh! Never take a bullet for me again, y’hear? I forbid it! If you do it again I’ll...I’ll hide away your books and throw away the key!”

Tintin nodded and smiled, but made no promises. Because for the Captain, he’d do it ten thousand times over in a heartbeat.

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Tintin and Haddock enjoyed smothering each other with kisses: Tintin stubbornly and teasing, Haddock stubbornly and flushing.

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Tintin collapsed to the ground, battered and bruised and having lost all will to continue fighting. He watched hopelessly as the brutes drove off.

Behind him the Captain approached, smoking, eyes shrouded in the shadow of his hat.

Tintin told him, voice shaking, there’s no point going on. It’s over. They’ve lost. He’s too tired to care anymore. The tears he’s fighting back well up and threaten to spill...

Something covered his head.

He looked up; the Captain had put out his pipe, cracking his knuckles, fire in his eyes, preparing to go after the gangsters who dared lay a finger on his lad.

As Tintin reached up and touched the soft material, he suddenly realized the Captain was letting him wear his most treasured possession. But what he didn’t know was that the Captain was leaving his hat in the care of his most treasured possession.

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Tintin traced his palm, following those branching lines as if paths etched upon an old worn treasure map. He lifted the hand to his lips and closed his eyes.

“Captain, I’m here now. Please, just – just open your eyes one more time...”

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By now his beard was quite wet from the outpour of tears, and he wanted to shake the lad by the shoulders and knock some sense into him while also folding him into his arms so he may never leave his side again.

“You silly silly fool! I’m the one who ought to be looking out for you, and yet...and yet it’s always you who ends up hurt because of me!” He swiped an arm across his eyes, his other hand still interlaced with the lad. “Blistering barnacles! How many more times must this happen before the devil finally catches up...”

A small hand came up to join the first, holding his own rough, weathered one in between, like shells of a clam protecting their pearl treasure. “Don’t be silly, Captain. A day or two on a cot isn’t the end of the world. Besides, I can tell you my head seems to recover faster and faster with each blow,” he chuckled.

Haddock wanted to scowl and sigh and cry and hold him. In the end he resorted to a sad crooked grin, and a kiss on the head.

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“Captain?”

“What is it, lad?”

Tintin put down the book he was reading and tilted his head up. “Do you believe in fate?”

The Captain leaned back, arm still draped lazily across the sofa. His eyes were thoughtful as he exhaled on a slow, long puff of smoke. “Somewhat, I suppose. Back in my seafaring days, we used to joke about letting the stars be our guide. ‘Written in the stars’, as they said. And if you ever saw a falling star, it meant something good was going to happen.”

Tintin snuggled closer, considering his words. “I think we were meant to meet. It could’ve began long ago, when I came down to port to investigate the Karaboudjan.”

“Aye, or when Snowy found the tin.”

“Yes, he – oh, but the detectives were the ones who found the scrap of paper—”

“Blistering barnacles! You’re not suggesting the Thompsons led us down our fate?”

Tintin laughed. “I’m suggesting that whether we knew or not, fate was already tugging the strings. She had rolled the dice, and we were merely players on the board.”

The Captain looked over at him, pipe halfway to his mouth. “You really get a kick out of thinking these, don’cha?”

Tintin smiled warmly, and patted his chest. “Only because they involve you, Captain.”

The Captain shook his head. “Trouble magnet pipsqueak.”

Tintin pecked his cheek. “Grumpy old sea dog.”

And outside, high above the quiet grounds of Marlinspike Hall, a shooting star streaked through the night.

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Promise me Captain, that starting from today, every time you look into the mirror you will only see all that you are instead of all that you are not.

You will see a set of wonderful loving eyes, eyes that see the good in others, and the good in yourself.

A kissable nose standing proudly in the centre.

Lips that have pulled into a thousand kind smiles.

Hair that ruffles in the wind in a way that only yours could.

And above all, a noble man who holds a beautiful heart and a gentle soul.



The Captain nodded, his face a little sad, a little teary, a little bit more with hope.

And Tintin lifted his hands to his lips and pressed softly over; hands that have more than once passed him his tea or cleaned up a wound or brushed away tears from dark midnight dreams; hands that have given him all the safe and comfort that home is supposed to feel like, never letting go for all time, from now until forever, and then forever more.

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“Tintin.”

“Yes, Captain?”

He smiled. “Nothing. Just wanted to say your name.”

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Every time Haddock reached for the bottle, he touched a hand instead; the lad would be there and guide him away and hold his hand, hold him and hold him and hold him, until the need faded, and Haddock relaxed; and even then, the hand remained staying.

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“Captain, wait!”

Haddock turned—

The lad grabbed his sweater and kissed him.

“B-b-blistering—”

“Captain, please – please...don’t leave.” The lad was fighting hard to keep the tears from falling, but Haddock could see them pooling, those sky-blue eyes glistening fiercely.

“Lad...I can’t. It’s not right, you and I. We—”

“I don’t care of any of that! I never have, and I never will – surely you know that?”

Haddock did. But none of it mattered. The gap was too much, too wide, filled enough to be drowned by all the waters of the seven seas. Perhaps it could have been, in another life, another time; born only years within each other, they would meet under different circumstances. Become friends. Become more.

But this was not another life. This was now. This was here.

...This was goodbye.

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“—just a little bit more...”

“Tintin, leave it – you’ll fall! There’s no use breaking your neck over a book—”

“It’s alright Captain, I’ve just about reached whoaaa—”

The ladder teetered – he slipped and lost his footing and fell down down—

into arms that caught him; just like he knew they would, just like they always have.

“Blistering barnacles!! Are you bent on giving me a heart attack even when we’re at home?” the Captain huffed, face a little flushed, and Tintin wondered whether it was from the strain of holding him or the fact that their faces were so close.

Both, he decided. Then, grinning, brought up his hand and gently waved the copy of A Study in Scarlet. “Come along, Captain. We’ve a mystery to solve!”

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“Captain.”

“Yes, Tintin?”

He smiled. “Nothing. Just wanted to hear your voice.”

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“...Lad?”

Tintin slowly turned—

and gasped. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t – it couldn’t – he was – he was—

He was here.

Eyes blurring, Tintin ran and launched himself into the Captain’s arms. “Captain, oh, my dear Captain!” he cried against his sweater. “We all thought you – but the explosion – how did you...? – I was – I was so—” He sobbed and hiccuped and left trails of heartbreak onto the Captain’s shoulder.

“I can’t believe it’s really you.”

Large, gentle hands came up and pulled him in tight – hands he’d thought had been lost to him forever. “I’m so sorry I worried you,” the Captain said softly. “But I’m here now.”

Tintin nodded into the woolly blue, then choked out a teary laugh as the Captain’s beard brushed his forehead and left a kiss.

“I’m here now, lad.”

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“Fishing?”

“Alright.”

“Or the cinema?”

“Sure.”

“...How about a trip to town?”

“Of course, Captain.”

Haddock sighed at the ceiling. He was going to regret this…

“How about you take that case and we fly to Singapore, and you chase after those nefarious art thieves to your heart’s content—”

Plop!

Haddock stared, stunned; the lad was grinning, two packed luggage produced miraculously from behind the sofa now plopped in front of them.

“So when do we leave, Captain?”

Haddock sighed at the ceiling.

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Apple pie, and apple strudels, and apple muffins, and apple tarts, and cake and cobbler and waffles and jam and apples apples apples—

“I, uh, wasn’t sure which one you’d like, so…” Haddock blushed, scratching his head.

The lad took a bite of tart and chewed thoughtfully. His eyes lit up. “Captain, I think—”

Haddock held his breath.

“—you ought to open a pâtisserie!”

And Haddock flushed deeper than all the apples combined.

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“Here,” he held out the parchment, “I want you to look after this.”

The Captain took a step back, startled, and glanced around to make sure no one had seen.

“What are you doing?” said Tintin, confused.

The Captain slowly backtracked. “Me?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?” The Captain put up both hands, slowly backing still, worried that Tintin was making the worst mistake of his life.

“If I’m caught, I don’t want them to find this on me.” Why is he making this so hard? “Look—” he grabbed the Captain’s hand and thrust him the parchment, “just keep it hidden.”

The Captain’s eyes lit up and he dropped to a knee— 

What is he—

“I will guard this with my life!” He grasped Tintin’s hand, as if making a vow.

Oh, this man… thought Tintin fondly. But there was no time to lose, so instead he hissed, “Get up, get up!”

when really, he had wanted to say,

Captain, of course... More than anyone in this world, it’s you I trust.

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Haddock watched, breath held tight, as if he were underwater again, struggling for his life in Bagghar.

He might as well be.

The lad was chewing thoughtfully. A small crumb clung unknowingly at the corner of his mouth, and were it not for the fact that Haddock was so nervous, would have reached out and thumbed it away.

The lad made a noise of surprise. “Captain – this is extraordinary!” His eyes twinkled from the candles Nestor had lit on the table. “The icing is exquisite, the cream is smooth, and the cake itself is superbly fluffy.”

Haddock flushed. “Well, a – a special occasion calls for something special.” He leaned in quickly and pecked Tintin’s cheek.

“Happy Birthday, my boy.”

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“Tintin!...Tharkey!...How wonderful to see you!”

Tintin leapt to his feet, delighted. “Captain!” He opened his arms as the Captain strode forward, ready to embrace—

Oomph!

On the outside, it would’ve seemed as if Captain Haddock was fiercely embracing the reporter’s head. That was understandable; the two were dear friends who nearly perished in the mountains together.

But on the inside, wrapped within woolly arms of ocean blue and pressed against nose beard lips, Tintin’s first thought was, Great snakes! Has the Captain been drinking already?

Then... But I’m glad he’s alright.

They would’ve stayed together a little longer, perhaps as invitation to murmur all the sweet nothings they’ve kept bottled inside for so long, but both were aware they had an audience.

“Welcome to you also, noble stranger. Please be seated.”

The Captain quickly pulled back and looked up. “Thanks...er...Grand Admiral.”

And as they took their seats, Tintin thought he glimpsed a twinkle of amusement pass by the Grand Abbot’s eyes.

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...Maybe he shouldn’t ask the lad to move in after all.

Haddock took a swig and set the bottle on the airplane table. Why was it so blazing hard to ask one simple question?

And what a fool he’s been! He should’ve asked the moment Marlinspike Hall became his!

His shoulders fell.

But what if the lad didn’t want to? What if he felt...differently?

He sighed, and looked over. The form beside him was sleeping soundly: wrapped in a blanket, with the dog resting in his lap, both were snoozing peacefully away.

Haddock ran a hand over his face. Who was he fooling. Of course the lad wouldn’t want to. Thundering typhoons, they were the best of friends, yes, but that didn’t mean they’d go off living together!

He slumped down.

And besides...him and the lad, it just...it wasn’t right.

He took off his hat absentmindedly, clutching along the rim and making it go round in circles.

But as much as he wished things could be different, as much as he told himself they shouldn’t be together, he’d never truly been able to silence the small whisper inside his heart that prayed to the stars each night for a chance at happiness with Tintin, for he could never truly deny his heart had long ago already belonged to the lad.

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“Captain, what did you write for your new year’s resolution?”

Haddock held up his sheet. “To drink less! So this bag of bones can live longer,” he said proudly.

Then, like a faded balloon, he deflated sadly. “Aye, but what’s the use. Year after year, it’s always been the same. Drink less! Exercise more!” He shook his head. “Face it, Tintin. I’ve dug an early grave, and nothing on earth can change back time.”

Small hands slid into his and gripped fiercely. “Captain, you’re wrong. You’ve made all the difference in the world.”

“But I still can’t—”

The lad shook his head stubbornly – and in that firm, that gentle, that voice filled with faith, “You’re trying, Captain. You want to change, and you’re trying.” His mouth pulled up, and Haddock wanted to break down and hold and cry into the hand caressing warmly his face.

“And that’s all that matters, Captain.”

Haddock nodded, unable to trust himself to speak.

The lad patted his arm, and returned to his own list.

“And what’s on your new year’s resolution?” Haddock asked, peering over a sky-blue shoulder.

“Oh, the same as always. To spend more time together with you—”

“Excellent! There’s lots we can do round here—”

“—which is why I booked tickets for us and said we’d take that case.” The lad turned and grinned, adventure twinkling in his eyes.

Haddock swallowed a curse.

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“Er...Tintin...what are you doing?”

“Getting ready for bed.” The lad gave the pillow one last fluff, and set it down.

“Y-yes, I mean – but why?”

“Because—” the lad climbed in and – TEN THOUSAND TYPHOONS – settled down dangerously close, “—just once, where we aren’t huddling for warmth or cramped in a tent, I should like to know how it feels, how it really feels, to drift off knowing you are safe and sound beside me.”

For a moment Haddock didn’t know what to say. How do you tell someone, someone you treasured more than life and whisky, that you felt the same way all along?

A beam of moonlight had slipped through the drapes, settling softly upon the lad. He looked lovely, much more than usual. And Haddock hoped he could stay forever this way.

Shuffling under the covers, he found the lad’s hand. “Of course you may stay. Besides—” he squeezed, smiling crookedly, “I’ve long given up convincing you – convincing myself, damn it! – to drop these feelings.” Then, wanting to dissipate the corniness in the air, added gruffly, “But don’t say I didn’t warn you of my snoring!”

A rustle of sheets, a dip in the mattress, and something brushed his forehead.

Haddock blushed. Even in the dark, he could feel the lingering of lips upon his forehead, and the youthful grin that followed.

“Good night, Captain.”

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A beam of sunlight had slipped through the drapes, settling softly upon the lad. His freckled face as he woke next to Haddock seemed even more lovely in the peaceful glow of morning.

“Well?” yawned Haddock. “How did it really feel?”

The lad pulled into a smile, and Haddock – with half a mind still slowly leaving behind the dreams of sleep: suddenly wondered how the world ever made space for two suns to coexist.

“Like I always knew, Captain. That my place in this world was the spot next to you.”

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He found Tintin reading in his favourite armchair by the window, the late afternoon sun dousing him in hues of warm golden orange.

Approaching, he saw the lad was quietly sobbing; trembling, even. One glance at the book’s cover told him all he needed to know.

Perching onto the armrest, he took the lad gently into his arms. “It’s going to be alright,” he whispered. “Everything’s going to be alright.” He rubbed soft circles into his back, knowing it wouldn’t bring back the beloved character, but hoping it would help ease the pain.

Tintin only cried harder into his chest, clutching fistfuls of his sweater and letting the tears speak for themselves just how much he cared for someone who existed only through words on a page, but whose soul would live on safe inside his heart.

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Haddock put down his paper and said suddenly, “You know what, lad: I’m grateful.”

“Is that so?” asked the lad, head leaned warmly on Haddock’s shoulder. He flipped a page, eyes on his book, “Care to elaborate?”

Haddock began, slowly, “Well, I’m...” grateful I did at least one thing right in meeting you. “Grateful for...the air in my lungs! the fire that keeps us warm! the stories you read me! the adventures we’ve been on!...” He winced; was that too out of the blue?

Flip. “I’m grateful for the sun.”

“The sun? That blazing ball of gas?”

“Because—” Tintin closed the book “—as long as the sun rises, I have another day with you. Captain? Captain?”

Haddock sunk into the couch, face hidden behind his paper.

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“—get off me, you little demon!!”

“No, no! Want to stay with Blistering Barnacles! Want to live at Marlinspike!” Abdullah tightened his hold.

“Thundering typhoons, your papa’s here to take you home now—”

“That’s right, my sweet little angel cake, papa’s here now!”

“—go on then, shoo! shoo!”

“No, NO! Want to stay here! Want to play with Blistering Barnacles!”

“Now you listen here, little nightmare. This is my house, and you ought to be going! If you don’t, I shall—”

“WAAHHH Blistering Barnacles mad at Abdullah! Blistering Barnacles only likes to play with friend Tintin! and read him books! and hold his hand! and go out togeth—”

“Th-that— I...TEN THOUSAND THUNDERING TYPHOONS, Tintin and I are—”

“—more than happy to welcome you back soon,” friend Tintin smiled. “But the Captain’s right, you ought to go with your papa now. He missed you very much.”

“Yes, come now, my darling lamb! Let us go—”

And so, Abdullah pouted and stuck out his tongue, and reluctantly gave Blistering Barnacles one last hug.

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“Yoo hoo, Dumbstock~! My little angel~! Now...where could he be?”

From their hiding spot behind the grand library door, Tintin and the Captain barely noticed Bianca Castafiore click clack off in search of another part of the estate, so busy were they exploring each other in a happy tangle of kisses.

“...mmm...Captain...she’s calling for you...”

The Captain growled, breath hot on Tintin’s skin. “She’ll have to wait...”

“...but...the interview...”

“Blast them all – I’ll give them something to write about!” the Captain huffed.

Tintin pulled back, necessary; regrettably.

“Captain.”

Knowing he couldn’t argue his way out of this one, the Captain sighed, finger-combed his hair, smoothed his suit. “After the interview, then,” he said gruffly, reaching for the door.

“Don’t forget the after-party.”

“After the after-party, damn it!” And the door banged shut.

Tintin chuckled, shaking his head. Tidying his own hair and straightening his sweater and collar, he left to go sit in on the interview of how Captain Archibald Haddock heroically – mercifully! – recovered Bianca Castafiore’s most beloved emerald jewel from the clutches of evil.

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On their way back from the snow-capped mountains of Tibet…

“Tintin,” whispered Chang, “is he the man from your letters?”

His Belgian friend nodded, a shy pink tinting his face.

Chang snuck another peek over his shoulder. The man – Captain, as Tintin called him – was smoking a pipe, humming a merry little tune to pass time while they rode the long way back to Nepal.

Chang turned back to his friend. “He is truly devoted to you, to have journeyed far across the world and braved the dangers to come here with you.”

Tintin nodded, thoughtful. “A loyal and courageous man, the Captain is.”

“I am happy for you, my friend,” said Chang, beaming. He reached for Tintin’s hand, “Zhù fú nǐ men bái tóu xié lǎo.”

Tintin blinked. “What does that mean?”

Chang smiled warmly. “It means—”

“Land ahoy, fellas!!”

The Captain and his horse suddenly streaked past, heading straight for the village ahead. “Finally, I could use a bottle of their best!”

“Captain, wait!” Bumping his heel on the horse, Tintin surged after the Captain...

...leaving Chang alone, a small grin tugging at his lips.

Ah, well, he’ll just have to tell Tintin later...

With a flick of the reins, he galloped after his two friends.

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“Thomson?”

“Yes, Thompson?”

Making sure Tintin and the Captain were farther ahead in the jungle and out of earshot, Thompson leaned in and whispered behind a hand, “Have you noticed anything peculiar lately, between Tintin and the Captain?”

“As a matter of fact, I have!” Thomson whispered back. “If I recall, it seemed to have happened—”

“—around the time—”

“—when we met them—”

“—in Bagghar!”

Thomson bobbed his head. “The Captain must be embarrassed to tell us his back pain, so that’s why—”

“—Tintin’s always—”

“—touching his arm—”

“—holding his hand—”

“—making sure he doesn’t trip!”

A roar broke out in the distance – the Captain was yelping and cursing over tree roots that dared trip him over.

In a blink: two pairs of eyes lit up.

“Captain, we’re coming!”

“Don’t you worry, Captain, we’ve got you! Here—”

“Bl-bl-blistering barnacles! Get off me, you bumbling nitwits! Tintin, help! help!—”

“Not to worry, Tintin, we can handle this—”

“Yes yes, you take a break, Tintin—”

“TEN THOUSAND THUNDERING TYPHOONS—I don’t need your help...! Tintin...Tintin!!”

Tintin doubled over laughing.

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“...I w-want to go home, so there!” the Captain bellowed. “I’ve had enough of this cakewalk—”

Cakewalk?! How dare he!

“...with whisky rolling up in a ball! We’ll all end up smashed in little pieces—”

The words exploded out before Tintin could stop himself: “BE QUIET!!”

The Captain froze.

“Do you realize—” he continued shouting, “that all your tomfoolery has nearly cost us our lives? Now we’ve had enough!” He jabbed a finger towards the rocket door. “Get back inside at once!... And try to behave yourself properly!... D’you understand?”

The Captain nodded, slowly, and turned around.

Thank heavens he understood, thought Tintin. But there was no time to lose, so instead, he ordered, “Now, come along!”

when really, he had wanted to say,

Captain...foolish, Captain! I almost lost you forever! Do you have any idea how much it hurts? If I should lose you...I’ll never forgive myself for the rest of my life.

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In all the years that Mr Tintin lived in her building, Mrs Finch had become used to seeing all sorts of folks come round to his place.

But lately...one man, in particular, seemed to be frequenting far more than the others.

At first, it had been casual luncheons together. Soon after, there were late-afternoon strolls around the park. After that, evening dates at the cinema became a regular.

It wasn’t her business who or when Mr Tintin met his visitors, so she often shrugged and went about her day as usual, a good book and a lovely cup of cocoa at her side.

Until one day, Mr Tintin handed her a notice.

“I’ll be moving out at the end of this month,” he said, ever polite. “I’ve...been offered a new place.”

Was it her imagination, or was the boy slightly blushing?

“It’s been wonderful living here, Mrs Finch. I shall surely miss you... Thank you for everything.”

She had nodded and read the letter, and shook his outstretched hand; then, after he excused himself to go and start packing, reread the letter alone in the hallway, pushing up her glasses to better read the postscript, Please kindly forward all future mail to Marlinspike Hall.

She shrugged, pocketed the letter, and went back inside.

She knew it wasn’t her business who or where Mr Tintin moved into, but, all the same...

She sank into her couch, lifting the steaming mug.

...that boy’s lived by his lonesome for far too long. It was about time someone came along and coloured his world with happiness and laughter.

And with that, she set down the mug, flipped open her book, and gave the matter no more thought.

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Yellow? No… Red? Purple? Perhaps green…?

Hmm…

Ah!

Picking up the brush, he dabbed a spot of blue and carefully coloured in the sweater, taking great care around the anchor.

Finished, he held up the page. Beamed.

Two faces beamed back. Captain and boy, boy and captain, each not knowing that waiting ahead was a lifetime of adventure and the friendship of a lifetime.

Two beaming faces, two shades of blue, the boy and the captain,

the sky and the sea.

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Deep within the depths of his soul...a voice was calling.

Captain!… Captain!… It’s me, Tintin… Please, please wake up!… We’re back home… Captain! Captain!

He wanted to wake, to open his eyes, to comfort the lad and tell him all was going to be fine—

But to even breathe was difficult, and here, in the darkness, where all was quiet, calm, peaceful…he couldn’t possibly have want of anything else.

...seems that he was a great whisky drinker—

He shot up, yanked off the oxygen mask: “WHAT? That wasn’t a dream! I distinctly heard it. Someone here just mentioned whisky!”

“Oh, Captain...my dear Captain!...”

Haddock blinked. The lad was looking at him as if the sun had come up, the world was reborn, and everything was right again.

Haddock smirked. Opening his mouth for a snappy comeback, he knew that this time he would truly be able to comfort the lad and tell him all was going to be fine.

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“Billions of blistering barnacles! I’ve been stung by a bee!”

“Oh, my poor boy, how did you manage to do that? And what a terrible fuss! You frightened me to death! Wait, I’ll help you…”

Irma shook her head. Her Ladyship ought to give up this hopeless courtship by now. Why, anyone with half a mind could clearly see there was something between the Captain and the young reporter; the way they exchanged knowing grins, the way one of them glanced up whenever the other entered the room, the way they lingered a touch here, a pat there...little things that somehow sailed right under Her Ladyship’s nose.

Irma put down her embroidery, leaning back into the cool garden bench.

It really wasn’t her place to suggest such things; that Her Ladyship give up this lost cause and return to Milan. She could only hope Her Ladyship realized it soon enough, because anyone with half a mind could see that the Captain was happy; fulfilled, and content with life in the country and the young reporter at his side.

Shaking her head, she picked through her embroidery basket and chose another thread.

Chapter Text

“Mr Bell?”

“Yes, speaking.”

“We’d like to inform you that…”

Jamie gripped the phone.

“...the Tintin sequel is officially a go!”

Holding the phone away, Jamie whooped silently and punched the air.

“...uh, Mr Bell? Hello?”

Grinning from ear to ear, Jamie brought up the phone. “Yes. Wow. That’s excellent news, thank you!”

“Happy to have you onboard, Mr Bell. Now, filming will begin next Monday in the same studio as last time – I trust you remember?”

The grin widened. “Couldn’t forget even if I wanted to.”

“Good, good. I’ll have someone send over the details of our production schedule as well as the script for you to look over.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

“Oh, and Mr Bell?”

“Yes?” He pressed the phone close.

“Pack up your bags, because I can assure you – you’re in for another helluva adventure.”

Chapter Text

It had been the proudest day of his life.

“I present to you – Captain Archibald Haddock!”

Cheers erupted from the dock below. Haddock waved at them, his new hat proud and snug upon his head. Among the crowd, he could see Chester finger-whistling.

Turning to his crew, Haddock signaled, “All hands on deck! We’ve a long journey ahead us, boys!”

“Aye aye, Captain!”

As his men scrambled to their posts, a tall man with a sharp nose came up behind and clasped him on the shoulder. “It is an honour to be serving under you, Captain.”

Haddock turned, grinning. “And how many times have I told you, Mr Thompson, to call me Haddock.”

The man smirked, a cigarette between his teeth. “Allan Thompson, reporting for duty.”

As Haddock led him away, heads bent, discussing the journey ahead, he had no idea that behind the loyal facade, his first-mate was already planning a betrayal. Nor could he ever know that out of this treachery, something – someone – would come tumbling into his world and change his life forever.

Chapter Text

“Captain, have you got your bags packed?” Tintin called from the entrance hall.

“Yes, m’boy, coming down right n—ahhhh!!” Slipping on a loose step, the Captain lost his footing and tumbled down the stairs, his bag flying open and skidding across the marble floor.

“Blue blistering barnacles!! Have we got another broken step?”

Hurrying over, Tintin helped him up. “Easy, Captain. I’m sure Nestor will more than take care of it while we’re away.” He bent to pick up the bag. “But we ought to hurry if we’re to catch the pla—hello, what’s this?”

For the Captain’s bag was packed full of sweaters and whisky. Or, rather, sweaters wrapped snuggly around whisky.

He looked up, raising a brow.

The Captain grinned, sheepishly. “About that…I, uh, thought we could use a wee bit of assistance. You know, in case we got lost in the desert again with nothing to drink…”

Tintin sighed at the ceiling.

Chapter Text

The best thing about living at Marlinspike Hall wasn’t the big fancy rooms, or the gleaming silverware, or that there never seemed to run out of books to read.

Rolling onto his side, he propped onto an elbow and smiled.

The sleeping form next to him snored on, peaceful, but loud.

He reached out, gently brushing a whiskered cheek.

It was waking up beside him. Here, in their home together.

Chapter Text

“I’ll begin taking your bags upstairs, then,” said Nestor, picking up a bag in each hand. “And might I add, Mr Tintin, it’s good to have you here. Though I daresay,” he leaned in, winking, “the master’s been looking forward to the move all week.”

“Th-That’s quite enough, Nestor, thank you!”

Mr Tintin grinned, clasping the master on his shoulder. “Oh, I’m sure the Captain will tire of having me around soon enough. Then he’ll see what a mistake he’s made.”

“Ha ha.”

Bowing, Nestor left the two in the entrance hall and took the bags upstairs, then returned to move the big boxes of books.

“Mr Tintin, if you wouldn’t mind,” he called, coming down the stairs, “I shall move these into the library for y—oh!”

The master and Mr Tintin quickly pulled away, a flush on each their faces.

Nestor hastily turned back upstairs, ears red, and said loudly, “Nevermind! I think the, uh, hallway could use another sweeping.” And he hurried down the hall before the explosion of curses began.

Chapter Text

He looked terribly peaceful, sleeping in the boat. But here, on the ocean, the air was getting chilly, and the lad would be getting cold soon.

If only there was wood to lit a wee fire...

Thundering typhoons, but there was!

Setting down the bottle, Haddock reached over for the oars and snapped them in half. Rubbing his hands, a glint in his eyes, he got down to work…

Chapter Text

“You’re invited to our wedding!”

“Yes yes, thank you,” said Calculus, clipping a rose, “but as I already said, I do not require new bedding.”

“BLISTERING BARNACLES, for the last time—you, are, invited, to, our, WEDDING.”

“Captain, really, there’s no need to shout.” Clip. “I know the cat’s been shedding, but Nestor will clean it up.” Why the Captain looked ready to explode, Calculus had no idea.

“Professor, this is for you.” The boy, laying a hand on the Captain and seemingly holding him back, produced a white envelope. He smiled, “You will attend, won’t you?”

Calculus took the envelope. Flipping it open, he pulled out a card. “Of course, my boy. Why, I remember the happy announcement as if it were yester—oh, dear.” His eyes widened. He looked up. “There’s been a mistake. This says Archibald Haddock and Tintin Hergé.”

The boy and the Captain beamed.

“No, no. Here.” Calculus pointed at the card. “This part. It ought to say, Wedding for Archibald Haddock and Bianca Castafio—”

“TEN THOUSAND THUNDERING TYPHOONS—”

[...And that, I’m afraid, was how Professor Calculus met his untimely end.]

Chapter Text

“There are plenty of others willing to call you a failure. A fool, a loser. A hopeless souse!” Push.

Did he just…?

“You send out the wrong signal, that is what people pick up. Do you understand?”

His hand... on my chest...

“There’s something you need to know about failure, Tintin.” The Captain turned away. “You can never let it defeat you.”

Hang on, a signal…?

“Of course! Captain!” He sprang up. “I sent a message from the Karaboudjan. I know what radio frequency they’re transmitting on!”

“Well, how does that help us?” the Captain asked, hands wringing desperately.

“All we have to do is send that information to Interpol, they can track the signals and figure out which way they’re headed!”

The Captain pointed. “Here comes Interpol now.”

Whirling around, Tintin saw the detectives rushing over. The corners of his mouth quirked triumphantly. Perhaps this quest isn’t over yet.

He snuck a glance at the Captain.

...Perhaps we aren’t, either.

Chapter Text

“You can bet Sir Francis’s high up there watching, knowing we got the best of Rackham’s descendant in this lifetime too!”

The lad inched closer, hand shyly lacing his. “You’re quite sure that’s the best thing to happen in this lifetime?”

“Aye.” Haddock leaned in, smiling, forehead touching quiff. “What better than revenge, triumph, treasure?”

Fingers graced his cheek, blue eyes found his lips. “I suppose I thought we were imagining the same thing.”

“Oh? And what’s that?”

Lips parting, eyes closing, freckles and button nose coming closer, and all at once Haddock found his breath taken away.

“Better than revenge, triumph, treasure?” the lad asked when they finally came up for air.

Haddock smiled, and pressed his lips to the quiff.

“Aye. A thousand times over.”

Chapter Text

He was there wherever they went, the funny man with the face fur!

Snowy snorted. After the whole fiasco with the golden crab, he’d thought they’d part ways forever.

No matter, Tintin will tire of him soon. Perhaps the funny man will finally make a fool of himself and Tintin will see what a slob he is!

Snowy held up his head and trotted beside Tintin, trying to show that the man’s presence was unwelcome.

“Captain, wait. Here’s a lovely spot.”

The man rubbed his hands, excited, nodding. “Hoo, yes! Time for that drink!”

Snowy rolled his eyes. He waited till Tintin laid the blanket on the grass, then padded on and curled into a ball. He watched as the boy reached into the basket and reappeared with food, and food, and food.

Pop!

“Captain.” Tintin raised a brow. “You haven’t forgotten what we agreed?”

The man set down the bottle. He swiped an arm across his mouth, grinning. “Half now, half later, eh?”

Snowy rolled his eyes again, and shuffled to face the other side.

But, hang on...that smell? He sniffed the air.

“D’you want some too?” a voice whispered.

Snowy blinked. While Tintin was occupied (he was putting film into a camera), the funny man bent low and offered the bottle. “Here, but don’t let Tintin see...”

Suspicious, Snowy inched forward slowly, eyes fixed on the funny man, and lapped along the cool glass of the bottle.

The man grinned. “You were a right ol’ sailor in your past life, eh?”

Ignoring him, Snowy finished and laid back down, head on his paws.

The man reached out, hesitated; then, seeing Snowy lie still instead of yapping like usual, gently touched his head and scratched his ears. 

Snowy closed his eyes, belly warm from the liquid, heart warm from something else he couldn’t quite place.

Perhaps the funny man can stay...

He yawned.

...Just a little longer.

Chapter Text

Deep within the depths of his soul...nothing could come close than what he felt right now.

“Oh, Captain! My dear Captain!” A rush of heat and tears came up behind his eyes. “Saved! ... Heavens, what a fright you gave us!” He beamed and laughed, and tried to hold himself together, but the tiniest of happy tears slipped out nonetheless.

“A fright?” The Captain smacked his chest. “You didn’t really believe brave old Captain Haddock was going to let himself be snuffed out, did you? Now then, where is that whisky?”

Tintin laughed. Suddenly, something brushed his hand.

He looked down. Blinked.

Oh.

All this time, he had been holding the Captain’s hand without realizing it. And now the Captain’s other hand came up to join the first, holding his own small, freckled one in between, like shells of a clam protecting their pearl treasure.

A new burst of heat rushed to his cheeks. Shyly, he looked up.

The Captain was looking at him dearly, as if the sun had come up, the world was reborn, and everything was right again.

Grinning, Tintin poked his side. “For what we’ve been through, I think you’re allowed one glass, Captain.” And he laughed as the Captain roared his displeasure. 

But it was all right. It was all right. Because he knew now that everything was going to be just fine.

Chapter Text

Tomorrow’s the big day, thought Haddock, as he finished molding the fondant. He had been dreaming of this day (and it was all he could think about) ever since they proposed to each other in the garden that night.

Lifting the fondant, he positioned it at the very top of the cake, and pressed down slightly so it stayed. Ocean waves flowed along each level of the cake, their blue as bright and gentle as a familiar shade of sweater.

He stepped back, hands on his hips, utterly pleased.

“Captain? Captain, it’s late—tomorrow we’ve a big day!” called a voice down the banister.

“Aye, coming, lad!” Apron flung, lights flicked off, Haddock left and went upstairs, leaving the cake waiting patiently for tomorrow’s arrival and a fondant unicorn at the very top, rearing majestically into the quiet of the night.

Chapter Text

He always knew the Captain would look dashing in white.

“...and I vow to always love and cherish you, Tintin. Till death do us part, and eternity after, you shall always and forever have me.” He took Tintin’s hand and gently slipped on the ring.

Heartfelt claps rose from the audience.

Tintin grinned, and grasped his hands even tighter. “My dear Captain Haddock,” he began. A tear had already slipped out from the crinkle of the Captain’s eye. “Before we met, my life had been one adventure after another. But all that changed the day I met you, for here was a friend whom I could at last share those adventures with—” a wet sob snort escaped the Captain, who quickly composed himself— “And through the ups and downs, the highs and lows, you have always been the one there for me. And now, standing before you, I vow to spend the rest of my life loving you, cherishing you, caring for you. To celebrate your happiness, to comfort your sadness, to hold your hand and walk by your side, to be there for you as your shining sun, and guiding moon, and all the stars above in your sky. I love you, Captain, and I always will. From now until forever, and forever after so.” He took the Captain’s hand and gently slipped on the ring.

Cheers and claps exploded once again.

By now, the Captain had sobbed out a waterfall, and Tintin himself felt tears springing to his eyes. They shared a wet laugh, and the Captain pulled him closer.

The priest smiled, closed his Bible, and, in a clear voice, announced for the whole world—

“You may now kiss.”

Chapter Text

“Congratulations, my friends!” said Chang, beaming broadly.

Snowy leaped from side to side, barking happily, as if to say whoa, whoa! Now let’s pop open the champagne!

“Yes, yes, but tell us, when did you two become so close?” chimed Thompson and Thomson.

“Ah, my dear Fatstock! So this is your true love?” chortled Bianca. “Why didn’t you ever say so? Oh! I almost married the wrong man!”

“It warms my heart that you and Mister Tintin have tied the knot, sir.” Nestor bowed.

Mrs Finch dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.

“Señor Tintin and Captain, my sincere congratulations to you both!” cheered Zorrino.

“Would someone kindly inform me what time the wedding for the Captain and Lady Castafiore is starting at?” the Professor shouted as he scrabbled on his knees, searching for his ear-trumpet.

Tintin grinned. His face was beginning to feel sore, but he didn’t care. It was the happiest day of his life, and he wanted it to last forever. “Thank you, dear friends. Now, let us have cake! It was made by none other than our very own Captain.”

Everyone cheered. The Captain blushed, and Tintin pecked his cheek, which only made him blush deeper.

Chapter Text

“Here you are, Captain.” He held out a slim rectangular box tied with red.

“Why, you’re too awfully kind.” Grinning, the Captain untied the bow and lifted the lid, setting it next to his legs on the carpet.

Tintin watched crisscrossed as the Captain peeled back the crinkly tissue paper. Then—

Sigh. “You took that case, didn’t you.”

Tintin grinned, innocent through and through. “This one shouldn’t take more than a few days, Captain. And the flight leaves tomorrow, so we’ll be back in time to ring in the new year.”

The Captain held the tickets up for a better look, eyes narrowed, as if bent on spying a misprint of dates. He grumbled, “Long as I get to pack a blistering whisky this time, I’ve no complaint where you drag me off to—”

Tintin held up a box, this time tied with green. “You were saying?”

The Captain eyed it suspiciously. “If that’s filled with an entire year of booked tickets, I may just marry Castoroili.”

Tintin laughed, handing it over. “See for yourself.”

Still eyeing the box, the Captain removed the string and gingerly lifted the lid. He gasped. “Thundering typhoons...” He looked up. “Lad, this is...”

Tintin beamed. “I thought it ought to last well the whole trip, so I picked their largest bottle.” He raised a brow. “You will make it last the whole trip…won’t you? Captain? Captain, are you—oof!”

The Captain flung over and toppled him against the sofa, and kissed him all over.

“Captain—! Your beard!” Tintin laughed.

“What, this beard?” He nuzzled Tintin’s neck, making him laugh even more.

“All right, all right! You win.” He leaned in, smiling, quiff touching forehead. “Merry Christmas, Captain.”

“Merry Christmas, lad.” And the Captain brought down his lips once more.

Chapter Text

“By the way—” the newspaper folded and a brow raised— “you forgot, didn’t you?”

Haddock looked up from his own book. “Forgot what?”

“On the mountain?”

“We climbed many a mountains, lad.”

“When I went inside the cave?”

“Erm...”

“To find Chang?”

“Oh, yes.”

“And asked you to keep a lookout?”

“Yes…?”

Both eyebrows were raised now. “You were meant to whistle if the yeti appeared?”

Haddock choked on air.

Ten thousand thundering typhoons...

Chapter Text

Ever since that day, Zorrino never saw oranges the same way again.

He sat peeling one on the flight home to Peru now, his whirlwind weekend in Belgium ended all too soon. He was happy to see señor Tintin in such fine spirits, and even more to see him happily married.

His hand made its way to his chest, as it always did whenever he thought of señor Tintin, and gently fisted the fabric, the small medallion beneath offering a warmth of comfort.

Years ago, when he was young and foolish and new to the feelings of the heart, he had thought señor Tintin perhaps might reciprocate his feelings. He was so gentle and kind, and treated Zorrino as a friend, not at all like the bullies in the market, and he had hoped señor Tintin would one day look upon him as if he were his whole world.

And Zorrino had blushed and looked away everytime señor Tintin smiled at him, and secretly prayed he would decide to stay in Peru. Blush. With him.

But…

He popped an orange slice into his mouth. It was delicious and overflowing with sweet juice, but towards the end creeped an unwanted sour tang.

...He wasn’t foolish enough to miss the signs.

As they parted from their adventure all those years ago and he watched señor Tintin walking away waving, he finally understood he never had a chance to begin with. For throughout their journey, señor Tintin did look upon someone the way one did when their whole world was right there in front of him, encapsulated into a single person. And Zorrino had been—still is—happy for him. Because isn’t that the whole point? To wish the one who stole your heart everlasting happiness, even if the heart they chose belonged to another’s?

He looked out the plane window, his thumb and forefinger absentmindedly fiddling a soft peel of orange.

But it was okay. It was all right. It was his life. And it was meant to be.

He reached into his bag and took out another orange. He hoped this one would be sweeter than the last, but then again, if it was determined to tease him sourly, then so be it. He allowed himself a smile; small, sad, then began peeling.

Should anyone one day ever happen to ask if love truly did exist in this world, he would tell them it could be found in the village of Marlinspike, beyond the fields and flowers, in a small Belgian countryside. That’s where they’ll find the story of that a loyal sea captain and his beloved boy reporter.

Chapter Text

And with that... the challenge and collection comes to a close. 🥃

Thank you all so much for reading and enjoying! And just being so kind about the drabbles 💕 I can't believe the months flew by so quickly! It's been really fun writing and sharing with you guys every week~ ^^

I'm going to miss writing about Haddotin (and the rest of the gang), but it's time for me to focus on other writing projects~ ✏️ I've been trying my hand at developing an original BL novel (which I'm super excited about because of all the fluff, heehee), so I'd like to focus on that for a while! Perhaps I'll still write a drabble here and there from time to time, so keep an eye out if a new chapter pops up!

Thank you again so so much for reading these tiny drabbles and sharing our mutual love for Haddotin together! Until next time, take care! 💙

Chapter Text

“Captain!” The lad rushed them through the hall. “Sakharine’s got the scroll!”

He hurried to keep up, voice trembling. “It’s worse than that.”

“What do you mean?” The lad never once slowed down. Probably never crossed his mind what Haddock was about to say.

“They took your scroll, Tintin. It’s gone!”

The lad stopped. “How?” His arms wrung, urging Haddock to go on, but all Haddock could do was pace back and forth miserably. “What happened?”

“It was Allan!” He blurted. “H-H-H…He knobbled me in the—in the garden, and then…th-th-there was a bottle of alcohol and—”

“There always is.” The lad pushed angrily past him.

“No, no!” He stopped him. “No, not like that.” Hah, the lad thought he’d been drinking! He started to make light of it, joking with a spread of his hands, but the lad shoved him off.

What he said instead, stark and sharp and quietly calm, pierced Haddock like a thousand glass shards.

“I can smell it on you.” Anger twisted his freckles into something like disgust. And then he was gone.

Haddock looked on, helpless, ashamed and bleeding from where the words cut open his heart.

The worst part was how true the words cut.

Chapter Text

“Captain, they’re going to hear us!” Tintin laughed in hushed tones, tickled by the Captain’s beard kiss under his ear. He was fairly certain no one would look behind the rose bush but, still.

“They’re scrambling to look for Cuthbert’s trumpet, I hardly think they’d look for us,” the Captain huffed, pecking his cheek again. “And thundering typhoons, I’ll be damned if we’ve to spend another day—another minute!—tiptoeing round our own house.”

Tintin pulled him closer. He liked the way sunlight warmed upon them, the way the grass caressed their tangled bodies like an earthy bed. The way the Captain said our.

“Perhaps we can continue where we left off?” he whispered into his ear. It wasn’t a question, and he knew the Captain knew.

“Anything my lad commands.”

They tumbled around, laughing and kissing and laughing some more. He rolled on top of the Captain, pressing his lips down and gently holding his face like a treasure. “Better?”

The Captain kissed his nose. “Better. Oh, barnacles be damned! That woman can’t leave soon enough. The moment she packs her bags, I’m barring the gates, even the devil shan’t enter. And washing my ears! Her horrid singing’s driving me crazy.”

Tintin laughed and patted his chest. “I’m sure you can survive a few more days.” He laid down beside him. “And anyway—ow! Hello, what’s this?” Something poked him in the back and he reached down. “Why, it’s the Professor’s ear trumpet!”

“Blistering barna—”

“You’ve found it!”

The two whirled. The Professor had been crawling past the rose bush, a magnifying glass in hand. He sprang up and shouted in the direction of the house, waving everyone over. “It’s alright! Tintin and the Captain found it! They were here, behind the bush! Oh, bless them. Such true friends. Why, they’re so out of breath from searching!”

Chapter Text

“Er…what do you think?”

Tintin picked one up, biting a corner, careful not to drop any—

“Crumbs! This is exquisite, Captain. Buttery, soft, not at all too sweet.” He finished the heart-shaped biscuit and reached for another, this one iced red. “But Captain, why the hearts? It isn’t Valentine’s yet, not for another few months.”

The Captain flushed, pink as his oven mitts. He often complained the colour, complained Nestor bought the first pair he’d seen, but Tintin rather thought it was a nice touch.

The Captain scratched his head, made even awkward because of his puffy mitt. “Today’s the anniversary...er, of when you moved in.”

Tintin blinked. Truth be told, he’d already forgotten which day it had been. Once he’d started living at Marlinspike, days with the Captain blurred quietly together. Like colours of an oil painting, the hues and shadows and light danced from one moment to the next, and he couldn’t tell you exactly where one colour began from the other, only that each day was happier than the next.

He leaned over the kitchen counter and pressed a smile-kiss to the Captain’s forehead. “Now I know why they aren’t sweet.”

“Wh-Why is that?”

“Because you’re the sweetest one of all.” He grinned.

Chapter Text

It was odd, wasn’t it? Ironic, even.

It was true he enjoyed travelling, seeing the world proudly from his ship! But adventure? Bah! He’d sooner give up whisky than galavant through lands far and foreign.

But here he was, his twentieth—no, thirtieth—blast, he’d lost count—trip with the lad. He had refused to come, put his foot down once and for all. But the lad persuaded him, just like always. And he’d given in, just like always.

He grumbled and eyed sideways, at the lad napping next to him, the mutt curled in his lap on their shared blanket.

How he hated every moment away from Marlinspike.

The plane lurched, Tintin shifted, gently and naturally lolled onto Haddock’s shoulder.

He swallowed, flushed, tried not to move a muscle lest he woke the lad, but turned just a little to the window should anyone wonder why his damn face was so red.

The lad mumbled something, sounding oddly like, s’not…the time to drink…Cap’n…

Haddock peeked over, unable to contain the twitch in his lips. He pulled the blanket up and tucked it in at the sides more, then turned away and resumed grinning like a fool out the window.

How he loved every moment with Tintin, no matter where in the world the lad dragged him off.

Chapter Text

Sakharine’s eyes narrowed.

That fool, Haddock. It was pathetic, the way he cared about the boy. When the hell did he have the guts to escape the ship?

Sakharine scowled, stroking his bird.

Something about the boy must’ve ignited Haddock. Something about him made Haddock brave.

Sakharine leaned back, this time stroking his beard.

How very interesting.

Here, at last, turned up someone that old fool might actually care for. Perhaps Sakharine could use that to his advantage.

He smiled wickedly, in a way that suggested unpleasant things were forming on the horizon.

The boy was special, indeed. And special things to Haddock meant a delightful weakness to Sakharine.

Chapter Text

Tintin ran into the waves, boyish and laughing. The dog yapped happily at his feet, water spraying his fur.

Haddock puffed in the shade of their umbrella, shaking his head. Youth! A great storm. A beauty that couldn’t be tamed.

Chapter Text

“You float on it, Captain.”

“What? This wiggly worm?”

“It’s called a ‘noodle’!”

“I am not riding some noodle like a crackpot old foo—arghh!” One end of the damn thing broke free of his grip and sprang from the water, whacking him wetly in the face.

“Blistering barnacles!! Devil sea serpent! I’ll wring your styrofoam neck, I will!”

The lad chuckled, shaking his head.

Chapter Text

“Captain? These bags—where are you…?”

Haddock paused at the doorway. It was time.

“I’m sorry, lad. It—It’s for the best.”

“For the b…?” The boy came right up to him. Haddock’s eyes shadowed beneath his hat. “Captain, did—did I do something wrong?”

How could you ever think that. “Nestor’ll help you find accommodations. Settle in. A new place.” His throat was dry, his tongue a thick, beached whale. “Till then, the ship’s where I’ll be.”

The lad wouldn’t hear of it. “Is this about what the town’s been saying? About—” quietly, “about you and I?”

Get it over with. “I’m sorry, my boy. I-I should’ve never allowed it.” Should’ve never followed my damn heart.

“But Captain, you know I don’t care. Let them say what they will! Haven’t we owed it to ourselves the right to happiness?”

“Lad—”

“After what happened on the moon!”

“My boy—”

“And in Tibet, don’t you dare forget!”

“Tintin!” He squeezed those blue shoulders, his hands deadweight, defeated; begging.

“I’m sorry.” I love you. “I’m so sorry.” You deserve better.

He snatched his bags. Tugged his hat.

He mustn’t, he shouldn’t…

But still his hand drew forward of its own accord, of its own fragility, brushing that freckly cheek one last time.

It’s for the best.

Chapter Text

“Pair!” The Captain slammed down triumphantly.

“Double pair!” Tintin grinned as the Captain, baffled, took in Tintin’s double pair of king and queen over his own jack.

“Blistering barnacles, th-this is the fifth time!” The Captain huffily refilled his cup, eyeing Tintin’s empty dry one. The cup was downed angrily, half its content not even making it into his mouth.

“I say, this game is unusually good for you, Captain.” Tintin tried not to laugh behind his cards. Underneath the table, he showed Snowy, up his sleeve, several copies of winning cards. He winked, a finger to his lips.

Chapter Text

“Uncle Captain, watch this!” Tintin inhaled a deep breath and blew.

A spray of bubbles burst from his wand, bouncing playfully in the air like staccato music notes.

“My boy, you’ve done it again!” Haddock boomed a laugh.

“I can blow a whole bunch with just one breath! Look,” the boy dipped his bubble wand excitedly, drew a mighty big breath, mouth a humongous whale.

“Now, hold on, Tintin—”

Bop-bop-bop! The bubbles blasted rapidly—straight into Haddock’s nose. “Lad—” Bop-bop-bop. “I—” Bop-bop-bop. “Thundering ty—” Bop-bop-bop. “TINTIN!!”

The boy stopped, out of breath. Binked once, twice. A hand came up sweetly to cover his surprise, his giggle.

The bubbles clung to Haddock like a foamy Santa Claus beard. The lad stared up at him, hiding behind his hand how tickled pink he was.

Haddock’s mouth twitched. The corner of his mouth fondly tugged. With a swoop, he snatched up another bottle. “I’m gonna get you!” he bellowed. And the lad squealed, little fists giddy as they chased around the garden of Marlinspike Hall.

The air filled with bubbles floating towards the sky. Just before they popped, a glimpse of a sea captain and his lad could be seen reflected in the surface—rainbow and laughing.

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He liked the way Tintin rubbed behind his ear, tickled under his chin, kissed his head. The way the lad called him for supper each night, the way Captain! sounded sweet to his new hearing.

His favourite time of day was when the lad retired to the armchair by the fire, quiet with a book and a thoughtful hand petting Haddock, Haddock with his pipe-shaped chew toy, occasionally lifting to lick Tintin’s fingers or nudge in want for attention when the boy’s strokes paused in excitement of reading, and the boy would Hm? and Oh! and chuckle an apology, and make it up by kissing Haddock’s fur.

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“Would you look at that, Captain!”

Their hike led them to a sparkling waterfall, gushing as though made out of diamonds. It was picturesque. Lovely, really. It shouldn’t, all of a sudden, roil Haddock’s stomach with the sickly feel of a knot being slowly pulled tight, his chest squeezed like a clam shell in fright.

“Oh, isn’t it wonderful? I— Captain. Captain?”

Haddock clutched his backpack straps. He could not glance away. He had not moved. Why couldn’t he move? Zorrino, but he was not here. But his cries clogged Haddock’s ears. But the waterfall continued flooding. But Tintin—he—the snap of the rope—

He was vaguely aware of someone leaping off a boulder, someone dashing to him. He reached out and grasped blindly, hands touching a shoulder, hands cupping a cheek. Oh, by the sea goddess. “Alive…but you…”

“Captain? Captain? I’m here!” His hands were gripped fiercely. “Captain, it’s alright.”

Peru vanished. He was back here. The lad was here. Ah. My Tintin…

“It’s alright, Captain. You didn’t lose me.” His hair was lovingly smoothed back. “You won’t, Captain. Not ever. I’ll always find my way home to you.”

Sunlight danced off the roaring white waterfall. It had been a small step, today, and many more after to ease the storm that battled in his mind. But like the waters that guide him so safely to shore, he knew in his heart they would always guide him and his lad together once more.

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On this day, Tintin and Haddock were baking and flour got onto Haddock’s beard. When he went to answer the door, carolling children mistook him for Santa (a mean Santa!). Tintin laughed and handed him a Santa hat. “My grumpy old Saint Nick.” And Haddock blushed, because it was Tintin.

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All those days of getting shot at and chased, not to mention the striking years between them, he’d always imagined what they had would be tragically ephemeral.

He dipped Tintin under the mistletoe and pressed one to his lips. Everyone at the Marlinspike party cheered.

Turned out, it was divinely eternal.

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He had been shut in all morning in the library, working fast on his latest article. “I shan’t be disturbed!” he announced before locking himself in.

He typed. He scribbled. He tapped his pen. Outside the window, the grounds of Marlinspike were peacefully white as Snowy barked and chased another snowball the Captain threw.

He typed. He frowned. He glanced out the window. Debated the nudgings of his heart…

The library door flew open—his coat thrown on—by the time the front doors banged open and the Captain looked up—he was tackled to the ground in kisses.

When they came up for air, laughing and warm to the tips of their noses, Tintin rolled off and they laid spread-eagle in the snow. And even after they went inside and the moon glittered silver across the ground, left behind were snow angels joined lovingly at the hand.

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Perhaps it was due to the fact that Haddock had been so accustomed to the sways and dips of seafaring and in time developed a righteous sense of balance, that he glided across the ice rink with ease.

But the poor lad. He stumbled and fumbled and tripped and skidded, each time falling forward into Haddock’s arms.

“Captain, thank goodness for you,” he laughed, a little embarrassed.

“Mind your footing or it’s your head you’ll crack,” Haddock said gruffly. But if he were being honest, his heart hopped like a mad frog each time the lad fell into his arms.

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They had angered a herd of reindeer and were fleeing down the hill for their lives. While Haddock yelped at the top of his lungs, glissading down with the lad bridal-carried, he had no idea the lad was secretly fascinated by the strength of his arms.

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“Merry Christmas, Captain!”

“Merry Christmas, my boy.”

They exchanged gifts.

Then exchanged surprised looks.

Whereas he had gifted the Captain tickets to winter events around town, plays and movies and the like, the Captain had gifted him plane tickets to New Zealand and a note that read, No lover of mine shall catch those crooks by himself.

The Captain smiled sheepishly while Tintin burst out laughing.

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With his hands tightly fisting the lad’s front, his heart hammering like crazy and the lad’s eyes wide; he crashed his lips down.

Relief mixed with longing. With regret, with a need to say all the right words in his heart but that somehow only came up wrong. That somehow it did not matter in the end; they could never be anyway. But he wanted the lad at least to know. That you, whom my heart yearns for after each storm, whom my body craves for when I wake up alone. You, the death of me. The reason I live.

His hands moved up to caress those cheeks and thumb over every freckle he had long since memorized, the stars that guide him home.

He’d been so stupid, all these years. A hopeless souse. Lost time, wasted and gone. And now—

A hand softly touched his face.

Those lips he had thought could only be his this one time—deepened the kiss.

Ah... Thundering typhoons.

As they swept in each other’s currents, fingers entwined and hurtling down unexpected waters and he hoisted the lad who wrapped his legs around his waist, they knew they were safe. That they would always be.

They broke apart to come up for air after an eternity, breathless and elated and both light-headedly flushed.

“Captain…”

“Tintin…” he breathed back.

They were so serious and so startlingly close that the lad laughed first and pulled him in until the tips of their noses touched. And he, self-conscious all of a sudden, buried his flustered cheeks against that soft sweater.

And the lad bent and kissed the top of his head, and whispered behind three little words so sweet.

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“Captain, trust me. We’ll be fi—”

“No, no! The Incas! Seven more days, lad!” He stubbornly paced their room.

How was the boy remaining so calm? The impending doom’s gone to his head!

“Tintin, I…”

He jerked away, hand over his eyes. Thundering typhoons, I can’t.

But seven days…

It was now or never. And never was fast approaching.

He leaned in and kissed his lad.

A thousand heartbeats passed, stilling the moment until it was too much to bear.

“I—I thought you should know.” He blubbered out and glanced away. A flush upon his face, a hand covering his mouth.

But the lad neither recoiled in disgust nor backed away in alarm. He simply, recovering from surprise, softened into a smile and moved, hands coming up to hold Haddock’s face like he was part of all the treasure they had discovered, the most dear of all.

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“Captain,” he whispered behind a hand. “Not so fast.”

The Captain paused his intake, basket of dim sum still in the air. He heh-heh sheepishly at the heads turned their way, and slowly lowered. As soon as the curious diners returned to their own food, he snatched it right back up and polished off—inhaled, more accurately—bun after bun, all the while blubbering around a mouthful, “They’re bite-sized, Tintin! For gulping straight down!” His chopsticks—held with surprise accuracy—zoomed with precise speed from basket to basket, like a comical blur of arms whizzing before Tintin’s eyes.

Tintin sighed fondly and picked up a shumai.

Best hold off on conveyor belt sushi then.

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“Farewell, Señor Tintin.” I am glad we met. May your heart be happy, always.

Eyes squeezing shut, he stood on tiptoes and kissed Tintin on the cheek.

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“Happy Birthday!”

Chang and Zorrino kissed either side of Tintin’s laughing face.

A prompt Nestor handed a drink to a sputtering Haddock.