series: secret diary of a call girl

Fic: The Earl, the Pauper, and the Peacock

Find on: ao3
Characters: Hannah Baxter, Don Juan, Giacomo Casanova, Peter Vincent
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 1.8K
Summary: Three different men, all with the same face. Hannah has different encounters with each.

Tags: lots of shagging, major character death, spoilers for Don Juan in Soho

Author’s Notes: This is a fulfillment of @timepetalsprompts​‘ weekly prompt: “Casanova plus/versus Don Juan.” Technically it’s for next week, but I got so excited about the idea of adding Peter Vincent to the mix that I just went ahead and wrote it.

This is my first time writing outside of the Doctor Who fandom, certainly my first time writing Hannah (I still haven’t seen Secret Diary).

Some dialogue is pulled from the Don Juan in Soho script.

Thanks to @pipertennant​ for the beta.

“Use your time wisely,” the Statue admonished and disappeared.

Tonight, he thought. He would die tonight. His blood ran cold at the thought of death. He needed to feel alive. “Stan, call her for me.”

Stan knew to whom he was referring.

He wasn’t her favorite client, but she was his favorite girl, and he always told her so as she gathered herself to leave his estate. And, she had to admit, he was a damn good shag. And devilishly handsome. A bit imaginative at times, which was fun. Played every bit the lovable rogue once they got down to the deed.

She wasn’t overly fond of the future Earl, though. He was pleasant with the girls, always good about business, never rough unless it was arranged for, but he was incredibly selfish and abusive to his companion, Stan. From what she gathered, Don refused to pay him. He was leeching every bit he could from the little man while he waited for his father to pass so he could inherit the family fortune.

But it wasn’t her place to judge. She was there for one purpose, and she was always professional with him.

This time, he was different.

He pulled her to stand between his legs as he sat on the edge of his bed. “You won’t be hearing from me again.” He worked on the buttons of her blouse.

She ran her fingers through his hair. “Why’s that?”

“I’m dying.”

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