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Author's Chapter Notes:

Moustache love!

A typical Sunday morning at Castle Gloria usually began with a bit of shouting. This was true even before the Major started showing up on odd weekends for sleepovers with the Earl to "discuss mission details". But it was rare that the Major shouted anymore at the Castle. He'd grown increasingly less belligerent over the years.

No, it wasn't the Major that Bonham heard shouting from where he was working in the garden, but the usual culprit, James. Sunday was his day of rest, which meant James would retire to his dark, dank, basement cell and balance the week's books. He would start early so that he'd have the whole day to complain.

Bonham was not really moved by it. He'd long since given up trying to quiet the tight-fisted bugger. It had rarely worked. And anyway, even on the occasions he had managed to calm the man or, that failing, render him unconscious, it simply made James all the more cranky the rest of the week. It was sort of like James's own perverse sort of downtime. The poor man needed a breakdown now and then.

No, the tomatoes were what Bonham was concerned with at the moment. They didn't look too happy today.

"How can you just ignore that racket?" The Major asked, appearing suddenly behind where Bonham knelt on the grass, inspecting his fruits and vegetables. At some point he and the Major had simply grown used to each other, and Bonham in particular had realized that without his gun and a mission, the Major wasn't really such a bad bloke.

"Years of practice!" Bonham said, jovial as usual, his moustache twitching in a smile that sometimes seemed permanent.

The Major paced. He was barefoot, in slacks and an undershirt. The first time Bonham had seen him like that he had nearly swallowed his own tongue.

"It's not as if I was sleeping, but Dorian still is..." the Major remarked, wiggling his toes in the grass thoughtfully. "I suppose he's used to it, too. Never seems to bother him."

"M'Lord used to wear earplugs, but he's got used to it, you're right. Once Mr. James slept late and the Earl woke up at the crack o' dawn, worried somethin' was wrong, what with all the silence!" Bonham chuckled at the memory.

The Major was watching him prune the tomato plants, then watched as he fertilized the peas, inspected the spices.

"You do a lot around here, don't you, Bonham?"

Bonham shrugged. "No more than necessary."

The Major thought. "I disagree. Apart from driving, and flying, I've seen you doing laundry..."

"Only when the maid service forgets. Got rocks for brains, they do!"

"You cook."

"Only when Mr. James don't kick a fuss. I like to cook. Me mum taught me."

"You keep track of Lord Gloria's appointments, and those of half the members of the household."

"Well... some folks need remindin'."

"You plan Eroica's missions--"

"Oh! Now there you're wrong, Major." Bonham stood, not as tall as the Major but nearly as broad, and he had long since felt the equal to meeting the Major's intimidating gaze. "M'Lord plans the missions, I just make sure they all work out alright."

"Hmm," was the Major's reply, and Bonham thought the conversation might be over, but as he moved to look after the roses he knew the Major was following him.

"It occurs to me, Bonham, Lord Gloria has never told me how the two of you met." He took a long drag. "Care to enlighten me?"

"S'that a spy question, Major, or genuine curiosity?"

The Major smiled. Bonham still hadn't gotten used to that. "Friendly conversation."

Bonham retrieved his watering can and fertilizer and put away his apron, then started work on the more decorative part of the gardens.

"Well, Major, you might say the Earl and me, we met under... less than ideal circumstances..." It suddenly occurred to Bonham that maybe he shouldn't be telling the Major this, so he asked, "Has M'Lord ever told you about his, er, wild youth?"

The Major smirked. "As much as I'll allow him. I'm aware that he was no angel."

"Ay, Major, in some ways you're right. But for me, he was exactly that!"

"Bonham, you're not going to get romantic on me now are you? You're the sensible one, don't give me some bullshit about angels in designer clothes."

"I think what you're thinkin' of, Major, is angels with dirty wings... but if you don't want to hear the story, you shouln't've asked." With a private smirk Bonham turned back to the roses. He knew the Major was too curious not to push.

Sure enough, moments later: "Well go on, then! I don't have all bloody day."

Bonham cleared his throat. "Y'see, Major, my youth was much wilder even than the Earl's. And, much as I don't like to say it, I had trouble with... you know..." he made a motion with his hand very like turning up a bottle. It almost unnerved him how familiar the action felt. "Well, not surprisin', I met M'Lord in holding--"

"You mean in jail."

"In holding! We was never what you'd call processed. I was sleepin' off an all-nighter and M'Lord was picked up fer... well I can't rightly recall..."

The Major snorted. "Considering his current profession I think burglary would not be an unlikely guess?"

"Oh no. He'd already got very good at that by the time we met. No, I think it was disturbin' the peace or public indecency or sommat. Nothin' real serious, if you follow me. Anyway, I musta looked a sight, all dirty an' smellin' o' booze. I was a real mean drunk, too, and the guards musta told him so, 'cause he was in the farthest corner what he could find from me! But when I woke up, I was confused about this woman--" he broke off and added in a whisper, "see, I thought M'Lord to be a woman at first... but I ain't never told him that, so that's between me and you, Major-- I was confused about this woman what was suddenly in my cell, and with all this beautiful hair and clothes, and looking so perfect...'maizing-like! I thought she was an angel." Bonham smiled, looking wistful, roses and watering can quite forgotten until he noticed the Major looking impatient. He straightened, put on a more appropriate face, and tried to look busy again. "'Course it helped that I was still pretty sauced. But the look on his face-- he was just 17, you know-- I felt terrible for scarin' 'er... that is, 'im like that. I realized what I'd done to meself. Felt like a monster. Started blubberin' like a babe."

"And he comforted you and you lived happily ever after?" The Major sounded cynical.

"Sommat like that, Major. Comfort me he did. But even pathetic and weepin' I was still pissed, and me hands started to wander. I wouldn't've been so pushy sober, gentle as a kitten me mum used to say... 'course that's when I realized he was a man... not that that stopped me either, never been too picky about which equipment goes with which model, if you know what I mean."

"You can stop any time."

"No, no, Major. Story don't end like that. M'Lord just kept talkin' to me, and pretty soon I was too busy talkin' to manhandle."

"So you and Dorian have never...?"

Bonham coughed, looked a little guilty. "Technically speaking, Major?"

"Nevermind!"

Busying himself with the garden hose, Bonham hurried back into the story. "That next mornin', before we was released, we hatched us a plan. He was on his way to becomin' a big-time thief, and he'd need a good man. It didn't fly all at once, mostly because I had to put down the drink and that took time. It was just our good fortune we had plenty of that."

He could hear the Major's mind working, putting pieces together, compiling all this new information, perhaps even inventing the years in between... but Bonham knew nothing the Major came up with could compare to the adventures he and the Earl had shared, the close-calls, the things they'd seen and been through, and perhaps best of all, the circumstances in which they had picked up each and every one of the Earl's devoted followers. Bonham couldn't help but smile. There were even good memories of James in there... somewhere.

At last, the Major spoke. "How old are you Bonham?"

"Wot, you mean you ain't got that squirreled away in my official NATO file? 'Johnny Bonham: World Class Thief, Pilot, Also Does Laundry?'"

"Oddly, no. We have less information on you than even Lord Gloria... however wild your youth might have been."

Bonham looked up at the Major and smiled, moustache twitching with delight, "You won't believe it, Major, but I'm not much older than M'Lord. I simply haven't taken care the way he 'as."

"You mean you've been too busy taking care of him."

"Oh no, Major. It's th'other way around."

Bonham was finished in the garden and gathered his things and deposited them in the little garden shed. The Major had gone quiet again and had long since finished his second or third cigarette. They walked together toward the house, which was remarkably quiet. Bonham knew that was probably because the Earl had finally risen and was doing his best to quiet James's rage. He was the only one who could.

The Major spoke up, "You know... you and Lord Gloria... it does explain something I've often wondered about."

"Oh yeah? And what might that be, Major?"

"Well, every once in a while, the Earl suggests I grow a moustache."

Bonham stopped walking but the Major continued on, his long strides carrying him quickly inside the castle. The thief stood there, a little stunned, suddenly recalling a part of the story he hadn't told the Major. He smiled at the memory and stroked his moustache, then followed the Major into the castle, wondering what they should have for dinner.

 

 

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