The King's Speech ficlet: The Catch [Bertie/Lionel, general]
Title: The Catch Author: celandineb Fandom: The King's Speech Pairing: Bertie/Lionel Rating: general Length: 480 words Summary: Bertie takes Lionel fishing. Note: For dementordelta, at the request of cruisedirector, who suggested Lionel/Bertie, "unexpected benefits." I borrowed the King's Speech universe that Delta and Cruise have created for this one.
Mist swirled around them as they tramped through the woods, their feet making little noise on the damp generations of fallen leaves. Ahead and to the left Lionel could hear the sound of water tumbling over rocks — their destination. He shifted the rod to his other shoulder, but there it bumped against the canvas bag that held the rest of the tackle.
"Nearly there," Bertie said cheerfully. He led the way, his own bag full of their lunch.
They had made the sandwiches together, of crumbly bread and thick-cut ham and grainy mustard, wrapping each separately in brown butcher's paper. There were a couple of apples as well, and the stream's water was cold and pure, Bertie had assured Lionel.
"Right behind you." Lionel wasn't quite out of breath, no more than Bertie at any rate, but he didn't have enough to spare to chatter.
Thin sunlight peeped through a break in the treetops where a huge oak had fallen, bridging the stream. A stretch of grass filled in the gap between trees and water.
"We can put our bags down here." Bertie suited actions to words. "A little ways upstream is a spot where there are usually a few good-sized trout."
"Splendid," puffed Lionel. He knelt and pulled out the roll that held the hooks and lures. "Which of these do you recommend?"
Bertie knelt beside him, thigh pressed against thigh, and fingered over the shiny lures, choosing one and lifting it free. "I caught a trout that weighed nearly five pounds with this, once. Not here, this isn't a large enough stream, but perhaps you'll have good luck with it as well."
"Thank you." Lionel was touched by Bertie's generosity. He busied himself tying the lure and hook to his line as Bertie chose his own and prepared his own rod.
They made their way up the stream, careful to walk quietly. Bertie pointed at the deep spot under an overhanging bank opposite, and signaled Lionel to make the first cast.
It would have been too perfect had Lionel gotten a bite that time, and he did not. They alternated, then, and it was Bertie who first had a strike on his line, but the trout slipped off. Lionel caught a small one — six inches — and threw it back.
By lunchtime, however, they had a respectable catch of half a dozen reasonable-sized trout between them, gutted and strung on a handy stick, and made their way back to the tiny meadow and their lunch.
"I'll fry them up for dinner, if you'd like," said Lionel, nodding at the fish.
Bertie bit hungrily into a sandwich. "They'll be delicious, I'm sure."
Lionel smiled and unwrapped another. "Not as delicious as what comes after dinner," he said, enjoying the slight blush that warmed Bertie's cheeks. There was more than one unexpected benefit to being the speech therapist to the king.