Fic: The Haunting of Isaac Higgintoot

It had all been a perfectly natural courtship until the bed arrived.

Oh, why must Isaac have bought that infernal king-sized bed! Complete with four posters, and a canopy, and thick velvet curtains. He’d even ordered it in California king size, as a little tease to Nigel. California king was quintessentially American, and it was bigger and therefore better than any measly mere king. Ha! Take that, monarchists! …If, of course, Isaac was the sort of person to be sticking things to monarchists. Which of course he wasn’t.

Oh, but that led him right back around to the problem, now didn’t it?

Isaac knew he was a bit of a prude, even by their time’s standards. He knew what most of the men—including Hamilton, the young cad!—got up to in the privacy of the camps at night. But he’d been a married man, and an officer, and descended from Puritan stock, like many good colonists were. Unlike those libertines like Benjamin Franklin and his ilk, the Higgintoots were much more like the Washingtons, the Adams, hell, even the Jeffersons (who from what Isaac had heard, remained an honorable bachelor after his wife had died, good man).

Nigel, on the other hand, come from those Oxford types. Clearly had spent time in boarding school mucking about with the other boys, much as he did his men under him (it had to be more than just that insufferable Jenkins. If only for the sake of Isaac’s own mind, he would rather think of his Nigel as a man a bit loose in his affections rather than even consider that Jenkins had anything special that attracted Nigel to him).

All this exposition was to the point: Isaac was a bit more of a prude than his dearest Nigel, but now that they had a wedding to plan and Nigel was assured of Isaac’s loyalty and affections, he was quite satisfied waiting for their wedding night and taking long strolls with Isaac around the grounds as they planned their wedding together.

That is, until the bed arrived.

After some discussion with Sam, she agreed that as the bed was Isaac’s, bought with his half of the book advance, it would be placed in his bedroom. Sam reserved the right to rent out the room as a “Presidential” (ha! Take that, monarchists!) suite on occasion, but only with Isaac’s permission. Which meant most nights it was Isaac’s and Isaac’s alone. Oh, it would become his and Nigel’s, once they were married. But they weren’t yet, and that was all the problem.

Like right now. When Nigel and Isaac came to a halt in front of Isaac’s bedroom door, standing awkwardly in the hallway. Isaac knew Nigel would love to be invited in, but Isaac just wasn’t ready for that yet. Oh, but nor was he ready for their conversation to end, either. What a conundrum.

“Nigel-” Isaac started, then stopped. Nigel stared at him expectantly, but said nothing. Isaac frowned. “Oh, I kind of expected you to cut me off.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Alright, so: maybe I was hoping you would cut me off…” Isaac grumbled. Nigel just smirked, adorably. Ah, why did his fiancé have to be so lovable?

“Well? You were asking me?”

“Ah, right…” Isaac smacked his lips. Okay, he could do this. “Nigel, I… Would you like to come in? Just to talk!” He hurriedly explained, when Nigel’s eyebrows leapt. “I just…” Isaac sighed, and smiled. “I never want our conversations to end.”

Taking a step forward, Nigel reached out a careful hand, taking Isaac’s in his own. It was new, and thrilling, even this minor level of touch. It sent an electric shock up Isaac’s arm every time Nigel initiated it, like one of Ben Franklin’s idiotic inventions. He supposed that one day it would cease to be thrilling, but Isaac hoped that day would not be soon.

“Neither do I,” Nigel assured him, punctuating his words with a little squeeze. “And I, of course, defer to your propriety. Why, we can even leave the door open.”

Isaac looked at the closed door to his room, and then back to Nigel. They both huffed.

“Alright,” Nigel admitted, “I suppose we cannot. But you know what I mean.”

“I get the sentiment,” Isaac assured him. Then, straightening his back, clearing his throat, folding his hands behind him at parade rest, Isaac asked: “Nigel: would you care to continue our conversation in my quarters?”

Nigel smiled, so soft and sweet. “I would like that very much, thank you.”

(Continued on AO3!)