☆ Round One!

[jsmn_kink]

Welcome to the first round of the Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell Kink Meme at jsmn_kinkmeme!

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Comments

FILL: A Helping Hand (Childermass/Norrell 1 of 2

[(Anonymous)]

Norrell hated having sore hands. Everything he wanted to do, even the simplest of things like reaching for a book, or reading, or taking notes, seemed to be awkward. He snapped at Childermass when Childermass offered to help him, and Childermass slid away into the shadows to get on with something else. That wasn't what Norrell wanted, either. He just wanted not to have made the mistake he had made with an untested spell. Side-effects were the devil, especially when he'd been working on his own and had nobody else to blame for his red, sore, prickling hands. He'd like to have someone else to blame--at least he could relieve his feelings by complaining at them.

He'd like to have had something to eat. He was beginning to realise that missing meals because he was busy was completely different to sitting about all day with no books, no meals, and no cups of tea.

But he was so irritable by this time that when Childermass came in with a plate of cut-up food for him he just hunched up unhappily in his chair and told him to go away--then spent the next hour mentally cursing both Childermass and himself because Childermass did as he was told.

At supper-time Childermass brought him chopped-up meat, and he complained because the pieces were too large and the cooking rather too tough, so Childermass started eating it in front of him with evident enjoyment. He sat there hoping his mouth wasn't watering, because it might not have been as dainty as some of his usual taste in food, but it didn't smell bad at all. Childermass cut the last bit in half--"Have a taste, sir?"--and fed him the last little piece. It wasn't at all too tough. Didn't Childermass know he liked to be persuaded if he'd been having a difficult day? He sighed, wishing he hadn't behaved the way he usually did, and he might be sitting there with his belly comfortably full of dinner, instead of feeling hungry and irritable and twitchy.

Childermass asked him if he wanted to rest now. He agreed: he couldn't think of anything else he should be doing, and the sooner the day went away and turned into something else the better. So Childermass took him to his room and got him undressed, and he tried very hard to sleep. Not very successfully: he was tossing and turning, and his hands seemed to scrape against the linens, and he kept realising he was dreadfully hungry because he wasn't accustomed to missing meals (except when he meant to, which was something different entirely).

Somewhere in the middle of the night he rang for Childermass and said he couldn't sleep, and please could Childermass find him a...a bit of cheese or something (he wasn't entirely sure what sort of food it made sense to suggest at a ridiculous hour of the morning).

Childermass nodded and silently wandered away, returning with a plate of bread, a jar of jam, and a cup of something hot. "Cheese'd give you bad dreams, sir," he said, and applied himself to cutting up the bread and putting jam on it.

Norrell did his best to sit up without using his hands, rather clumsily, and then Childermass got him slightly more upright in the bed, and pulled him close where he was conveniently in range. Norrell squeaked a little, because he hadn't been used at all to being so close he could feel another person's warmth so near his skin, but it didn't feel bad. It felt even nicer to have Childermass coax his mouth open and pop in a little piece of bread-and-jam, easy to eat and sweet enough to be very comforting. He nibbled delicately through the whole plateful, and every so often Childermass lifted the cup of tea for him to sip. Once he'd finished the bread, he complained about Childermass not having brought enough--mainly because he liked to have something to complain about, but also because he wouldn't have minded a bit more of the jam. When Childermass offered to go and look for more bread, Norrell said he wouldn't like to be disturbed, but a little more jam would be acceptable.

Perhaps he ought to have been shocked when Childermass promptly laid him back on the pillows and started feeding him jam on his fingers, but he was feeling happy and slightly floaty and nearly-full-enough, so he just lay there and licked and sucked what he was given until he was too tired to do anything but sleep.