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no_true_pairTitle: Light The Way [Here on AO3]
Fandom: Automobile Stories - Eleanor M. Ingram
Pairing/Characters: David "Darling" Lestrange & Louis Delmar
Rating: G
Word Count: 540
Content Notes: None
Prompt: September Four - David "Darling" Lestrange & Louis Delmar, it's dark and there's only oneflashlight lantern
A bright voice floated out of the black field beyond the course, hailing the merry group of youngsters of the American teams gathered around their night's fire: "Hello, the camp!"
Necks craned interestedly. "Who is it?" called a few voices in the dark.
"It's Darling—Darling Lestrange—!" was the excited response from the first man who caught sight of the newcomer's face in the flickering firelight, and there was a general commotion as the revered driver's rivals hastened up to greet him, shake him by the hand, invite him to share their belated catch-as-can feasts. There was a thrilling mystique about the cool American who raced for foreign teams and had won so many laurels abroad, and he was held in both high esteem and envious awe by his fellow-racers in the States. Lestrange gamely shook hands all round, accepted the adulation and refused the invitations with a flattering modesty as he came into the circle of the fire's light.
"What's this? Creeping across enemy lines under cover of night, Darling?" gibed the irreverent George, grinning where he lounged before the fire with his legs stretched across his team-mate's lap. "There's an intrigue; don't say you're finally coming over to the American side?"
"Not just yet," Lestrange answered, laughingly serene. "My team moved on to our camp while I was answering a cable, leaving me behind without a machine to drive or a searchlight to see by, so I followed your firelight here to beg a lantern from you fellows to find my people again. I don't like the notion of stumbling after them in this moonless dark and turning an ankle in some fine country hole for my troubles, and putting myself out of the contest on the first night. Has any one got a kerosene light to lend?"
"I'll do better than that, and team-mate you home, Darling," cried the youngest of the young crowd eagerly, snatching up a lantern as he came forward, to general mockery and whistles from his fellows, and an appreciative smile from the wayward traveler.
"Be sure you don't leave your partner too long, little boy," the irrepressible George cracked wise. "When a young man gets lonesome he's liable to 'team-mate', himself, with the nearest single chauffeur, eh, Laurence?"
The youth so addressed hovered behind his bright partner like a slender dark shadow, the moon to his sun. He gave a tranquil wave of his hand at the chaffing; his black gaze smiled into the volunteer's shining amber-gold eyes. "I'll be faithful, Louis," he avowed sweetly, "and only pine a very little 'til you return. Go on, dearest, see Darling home safe; we can't beat him if he can't drive to-morrow."
Such sanguine confidence from the unblooded novices drew a roar of jeering laughter from the crowd, but Lestrange himself offered his hand to each of the pair with nothing but grave respect. "Laurence, is it?—then you'll be Delmar? You, the pair who won the twenty-four hours on Long Island last month without so much as a scratch on your machine? I've been wanting to shake your hands; a race very well run, gentlemen. Though as to beating me and my distinguished Italian team-mate," the grey eyes laughed, "we will see, to-morrow."
Fandom: Automobile Stories - Eleanor M. Ingram
Pairing/Characters: David "Darling" Lestrange & Louis Delmar
Rating: G
Word Count: 540
Content Notes: None
Prompt: September Four - David "Darling" Lestrange & Louis Delmar, it's dark and there's only one
A bright voice floated out of the black field beyond the course, hailing the merry group of youngsters of the American teams gathered around their night's fire: "Hello, the camp!"
Necks craned interestedly. "Who is it?" called a few voices in the dark.
"It's Darling—Darling Lestrange—!" was the excited response from the first man who caught sight of the newcomer's face in the flickering firelight, and there was a general commotion as the revered driver's rivals hastened up to greet him, shake him by the hand, invite him to share their belated catch-as-can feasts. There was a thrilling mystique about the cool American who raced for foreign teams and had won so many laurels abroad, and he was held in both high esteem and envious awe by his fellow-racers in the States. Lestrange gamely shook hands all round, accepted the adulation and refused the invitations with a flattering modesty as he came into the circle of the fire's light.
"What's this? Creeping across enemy lines under cover of night, Darling?" gibed the irreverent George, grinning where he lounged before the fire with his legs stretched across his team-mate's lap. "There's an intrigue; don't say you're finally coming over to the American side?"
"Not just yet," Lestrange answered, laughingly serene. "My team moved on to our camp while I was answering a cable, leaving me behind without a machine to drive or a searchlight to see by, so I followed your firelight here to beg a lantern from you fellows to find my people again. I don't like the notion of stumbling after them in this moonless dark and turning an ankle in some fine country hole for my troubles, and putting myself out of the contest on the first night. Has any one got a kerosene light to lend?"
"I'll do better than that, and team-mate you home, Darling," cried the youngest of the young crowd eagerly, snatching up a lantern as he came forward, to general mockery and whistles from his fellows, and an appreciative smile from the wayward traveler.
"Be sure you don't leave your partner too long, little boy," the irrepressible George cracked wise. "When a young man gets lonesome he's liable to 'team-mate', himself, with the nearest single chauffeur, eh, Laurence?"
The youth so addressed hovered behind his bright partner like a slender dark shadow, the moon to his sun. He gave a tranquil wave of his hand at the chaffing; his black gaze smiled into the volunteer's shining amber-gold eyes. "I'll be faithful, Louis," he avowed sweetly, "and only pine a very little 'til you return. Go on, dearest, see Darling home safe; we can't beat him if he can't drive to-morrow."
Such sanguine confidence from the unblooded novices drew a roar of jeering laughter from the crowd, but Lestrange himself offered his hand to each of the pair with nothing but grave respect. "Laurence, is it?—then you'll be Delmar? You, the pair who won the twenty-four hours on Long Island last month without so much as a scratch on your machine? I've been wanting to shake your hands; a race very well run, gentlemen. Though as to beating me and my distinguished Italian team-mate," the grey eyes laughed, "we will see, to-morrow."