![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
schizoauthoressTitle: Language Arts
Author: D.L.SchizoAuthoress
Rating: PG
Spoilers: working in "Justice League Unlimited"
Warnings: strong language, established Vigilante/Shining Knight (and in my headcanon Greg is from the 1930s, just so you know)
Prompt/Fill: None
Word Count: 1831
Summary: Even knights need rescuing sometimes.
Note: Inherited surnames were not a thing in Britain until the Norman invasion around 1066, while Sir Justin is from the 6th century (500-something). There is something about Sir Justin in the comics being called "Shining Knight" back in the day, so I gave him a nickname of Anglo Saxon name elements -- ead, which means 'blessed', and berht, which means 'bright'.
In fact the name "Justin" is itself something of an anachronism for the period of the Middle Ages that Sir Justin comes from, so in my headcanon his original name is actually "Justinian" from Latin and was modernized like his nickname.
Word of the Day: usageaster (YOO-sij-as-ter), noun: A self-styled authority on language usage.
Language Arts
Greg could understand being beholden to those who'd found you in the twenty-first century and taken the time to teach you how the world had changed. He imagined that the debt might feel even greater when there were centuries of difference instead of mere decades to be covered. He could even imagine that Justin bore no ill will at all to the museum curators who seemed determined to constantly use him as a resource for information on sixth-century life and the Old English language.
But honestly. There were only so many times a man could take being woken up at a ridiculous hour of the night just because a linguistics 'expert' in the Department of Prehistory and Europe was having a translation issue.
"Nigel," he heard Justin say softly, like he was trying not to wake Greg (as though the ringing of the telephone on the bedside table hadn't done just that), "again, it's two o'clock in the morning here."
"I'm so sorry, Eadberht! I'm just hopeless at time zones!" Nigel Higgenbottom, as usual, was speaking loudly enough to be heard, faint but clear, over the line despite the reminder. Greg just barely resisted the urge to grind his teeth. He knew it was silly to be jealous, but he just didn't like Nigel using that old nickname that Justin had gotten in King Arthur times. It was especially silly since Justin had adopted a modernized version as his surname -- making him, officially, Justin Edbert as a civilian. But something about the way Nigel said it (with the correct pronunciation and everything) set Greg's teeth on edge.
Greg muttered and snorted like he was just being woken, and grunted, "That th' museum?" half into his pillow.
"Shh, Gregory, go back to sleep," Justin said softly, stroking Greg's hair for a moment before he turned toward the edge of the bed and rolled out of it to his feet. His feet shuffled over the soft carpet as he made his way to the bedroom door, opening it quietly.
"Tell 'em t' compensate you!" Greg called out, without really lifting his head. They'd had that discussion a few times, with Justin insisting that it didn't feel right to ask for money when he was really the only person for them to contact with these issues. Greg was trying to get him to see that it wasn't about the money, just the respect of his time and energy that being paid implied, but this was one of those things that Justin was determined to be stubbornly noble about. Greg had to admit, while he loved that about Justin, it was also an annoying trait sometimes.
The door shut with a tiny click and Greg sighed, turning his back to the door. When Justin turned on the hallway light it wouldn't disturb his efforts to get back to sleep.
****
Justin tried, always, to be gracious and helpful as befit a knight of his standing. But people of these modern times often seemed to go out of their way to make that difficult for him. He honestly would not mind the occasional early morning trans-Atlantic telephone call had he been the only one whose sleep was disturbed by it. And Nigel's coworkers, who were far more mindful of the time zone difference between Wyoming and England, understood that they would reach a far more patient Justin if they waited until what was their afternoon (at least) to call. Nigel Higgenbottom meant well, Justin was sure. But he could be a bit thoughtless when he was swept up in his research.
It was nice, though... to be able to speak his native language from time to time. English nowadays was really nothing like the language he'd grown up with, and it had been one of the more initially difficult aspects of acclimating to the twenty-first century. Justin headed to the kitchen as he listened to Nigel describe the portion of the manuscript he was working from.
Another of his lessons, and one he'd liked from the start, was about tea. Tea was a good thing. He filled the kettle from the tap and turned a dial on the gas range to get a low flame going. As Nigel prattled about a particularly difficult passage, Justin balanced the receiver of the cordless phone against his shoulder and spooned some loose tea leaves from a small tin box into a strainer.
By the time he got a chance to remind Nigel that he'd come from a Kent prior to its integration into Wessex, the kettle had come to a boil. Justin took it off the heat and twisted the dial off, as he promised to do his best with the passages. He ended up steeping the tea for too long because it was difficult for him to remember all the differences between the regional dialects. Justin forced his annoyance down and added another teaspoonful of sugar to the tea. It was not worth getting upset over. He finished the cup by the time that Nigel was done.
"Thank you, Eadberht, I believe I can take it from here," Nigel said cheerfully.
Justin was never entirely sure how to feel about Nigel -- or any of the British Museum employees -- calling him Eadberht, or even Justinian. Those names were his names, of course, and it was sort of nice to be reminded of being called that. But... he was Shining Knight, Sir Justin, and Justin Edbert now. He liked those names, and he liked being what he was to the people who used them.
"You're welcome, Nigel, but please," Justin said, stressing the 'please' just a little, "do try to remember you should wait until afternoon to call?"
"Oh! Normally I would, but Mary wasn't in today and I must get this finished by the end of the day..."
Justin held back from sighing. It would be rude. "I'm glad I was able to help, Nigel. Now, I'm going back to bed."
"Sleep well!"
"Yes..." Justin replied dryly, "let's hope I can."
****
It happened again the next night, though at the slightly more reasonable five a.m. And again the night after that, at three-thirty on the dot. When the phone rang on the fourth night in a row, Greg shot upright and reached over Justin almost before the first chime had stopped.
"Gregory..." Justin started, but Greg held up a hand. He was not in the mood to be nice anymore. He shouted into the phone, over Nigel using that nickname yet again,
"Now listen here, you addle-headed coffee boiling four-flusher! I have had it with you tryin' to pass the buck on your work to Justin. Just because he's too nice to tell you to pull in your horns!" Greg hissed in a breath as Nigel tried to stammer out a response, something about how there was no call to yell at him, and that just riled him up all the more. He had to turn away from Justin, sitting on the edge of his side of the bed as he continued, "If all your brains was dynamite, Mister Higgenbottom, you wouldn't have enough to blow your nose! If there was anything under your hat but hair, you wouldn't be takin' advantage of a gentleman like Justin, and you'd damn well listen when he tells you not to make calls at this ungodly hour."
"Mister Sanders, I demand to sp--"
"You ain't in no position to demand a damned thing, mudsill! You woke up the wrong passenger this time, and if you wasn't a complete waste of everybody's time, I might make the trip over there to learn you manners! In fact, if you say any word other than 'I'm sorry, it won't happen again' to Sir Justin in just a minute, I probably will make the jump! And when I get through with you, mister, there won't be enough left a' you to snore! Here!" The last snarled word was half directed at Justin, as he pulled the receiver away from his ear and pushed it into Justin's hand.
Greg crossed his arms over his chest and, for once, actually listened hard to hear what Nigel was saying.
"I... I..." the Englishman was stammering, stumbling over his words. Greg was willing to bet that he was winding up to some kind of rant, and he hoped the stupid crumb would. Then he could make good on his word.
Justin allowed the man a few moments of false start. Then, tone sharp, he asked, "...Well?"
There was only silence on the other end, and then, grudgingly, Nigel repeated back what he'd been instructed to. "I'm sorry, it won't happen again, Eadb--"
"Justin." The knight interrupted him firmly. "You call me Justin. I only allow friends who respect me and mine to call me Eadberht." And before Nigel could formulate an indignant protest to that, Justin hung up the phone.
Greg huffed out a breath, but he still didn't turn back toward Justin. "He was takin' advantage."
"He was upsetting you."
"Because he was takin' advantage of you," Greg insisted, like he was expecting to be disbelieved. Justin smiled softly.
"So that's what it feels like," he mused, reaching out to curl his arm around Greg's waist. The move eased some of the tension out of his lover, even as Greg (finally) turned his head and looked at him curiously.
"What?"
"To be on the other end of having honor defended."
"I was o--"
"Shh," Justin whispered. Knowing Greg, he would protest the description, saying it was only the right thing to do and not as noble as Justin was making it sound. He wished he could make Greg understand that it was the same thing. "Just let me thank you." Since he doubted he could find the words, he only leaned in close and kissed Greg's mouth gently.
Greg made a tiny, needy sound and cupped a hand against Justin's face as he kissed him back. He loved the way they always seemed to fit together, how Justin could make him feel loved and safe and needed with the simplest of gestures. But... he had to...
Justin almost sighed when Greg pulled back. Almost. But he controlled the impulse, and instead hauled his lover backward so they were both sprawled across the mattress before pressing up close to Greg's side and kissing him again.
"I'm sorry," Greg said immediately when his mouth was free.
"I'm not angry." Justin leaned closer, reaching an arm over Greg and planting a hand firmly on the mattress for support, just beside Greg's hip. He dropped a little kiss to the corner of Greg's mouth, then another on his jawline. Message received, Greg tilted his head back and to the side a little, and Justin continued kissing down his throat. He smiled again and admitted, "You saved me the trouble of deciding which language to curse at him in."
****
Author: D.L.SchizoAuthoress
Rating: PG
Spoilers: working in "Justice League Unlimited"
Warnings: strong language, established Vigilante/Shining Knight (and in my headcanon Greg is from the 1930s, just so you know)
Prompt/Fill: None
Word Count: 1831
Summary: Even knights need rescuing sometimes.
Note: Inherited surnames were not a thing in Britain until the Norman invasion around 1066, while Sir Justin is from the 6th century (500-something). There is something about Sir Justin in the comics being called "Shining Knight" back in the day, so I gave him a nickname of Anglo Saxon name elements -- ead, which means 'blessed', and berht, which means 'bright'.
In fact the name "Justin" is itself something of an anachronism for the period of the Middle Ages that Sir Justin comes from, so in my headcanon his original name is actually "Justinian" from Latin and was modernized like his nickname.
Word of the Day: usageaster (YOO-sij-as-ter), noun: A self-styled authority on language usage.
Language Arts
Greg could understand being beholden to those who'd found you in the twenty-first century and taken the time to teach you how the world had changed. He imagined that the debt might feel even greater when there were centuries of difference instead of mere decades to be covered. He could even imagine that Justin bore no ill will at all to the museum curators who seemed determined to constantly use him as a resource for information on sixth-century life and the Old English language.
But honestly. There were only so many times a man could take being woken up at a ridiculous hour of the night just because a linguistics 'expert' in the Department of Prehistory and Europe was having a translation issue.
"Nigel," he heard Justin say softly, like he was trying not to wake Greg (as though the ringing of the telephone on the bedside table hadn't done just that), "again, it's two o'clock in the morning here."
"I'm so sorry, Eadberht! I'm just hopeless at time zones!" Nigel Higgenbottom, as usual, was speaking loudly enough to be heard, faint but clear, over the line despite the reminder. Greg just barely resisted the urge to grind his teeth. He knew it was silly to be jealous, but he just didn't like Nigel using that old nickname that Justin had gotten in King Arthur times. It was especially silly since Justin had adopted a modernized version as his surname -- making him, officially, Justin Edbert as a civilian. But something about the way Nigel said it (with the correct pronunciation and everything) set Greg's teeth on edge.
Greg muttered and snorted like he was just being woken, and grunted, "That th' museum?" half into his pillow.
"Shh, Gregory, go back to sleep," Justin said softly, stroking Greg's hair for a moment before he turned toward the edge of the bed and rolled out of it to his feet. His feet shuffled over the soft carpet as he made his way to the bedroom door, opening it quietly.
"Tell 'em t' compensate you!" Greg called out, without really lifting his head. They'd had that discussion a few times, with Justin insisting that it didn't feel right to ask for money when he was really the only person for them to contact with these issues. Greg was trying to get him to see that it wasn't about the money, just the respect of his time and energy that being paid implied, but this was one of those things that Justin was determined to be stubbornly noble about. Greg had to admit, while he loved that about Justin, it was also an annoying trait sometimes.
The door shut with a tiny click and Greg sighed, turning his back to the door. When Justin turned on the hallway light it wouldn't disturb his efforts to get back to sleep.
****
Justin tried, always, to be gracious and helpful as befit a knight of his standing. But people of these modern times often seemed to go out of their way to make that difficult for him. He honestly would not mind the occasional early morning trans-Atlantic telephone call had he been the only one whose sleep was disturbed by it. And Nigel's coworkers, who were far more mindful of the time zone difference between Wyoming and England, understood that they would reach a far more patient Justin if they waited until what was their afternoon (at least) to call. Nigel Higgenbottom meant well, Justin was sure. But he could be a bit thoughtless when he was swept up in his research.
It was nice, though... to be able to speak his native language from time to time. English nowadays was really nothing like the language he'd grown up with, and it had been one of the more initially difficult aspects of acclimating to the twenty-first century. Justin headed to the kitchen as he listened to Nigel describe the portion of the manuscript he was working from.
Another of his lessons, and one he'd liked from the start, was about tea. Tea was a good thing. He filled the kettle from the tap and turned a dial on the gas range to get a low flame going. As Nigel prattled about a particularly difficult passage, Justin balanced the receiver of the cordless phone against his shoulder and spooned some loose tea leaves from a small tin box into a strainer.
By the time he got a chance to remind Nigel that he'd come from a Kent prior to its integration into Wessex, the kettle had come to a boil. Justin took it off the heat and twisted the dial off, as he promised to do his best with the passages. He ended up steeping the tea for too long because it was difficult for him to remember all the differences between the regional dialects. Justin forced his annoyance down and added another teaspoonful of sugar to the tea. It was not worth getting upset over. He finished the cup by the time that Nigel was done.
"Thank you, Eadberht, I believe I can take it from here," Nigel said cheerfully.
Justin was never entirely sure how to feel about Nigel -- or any of the British Museum employees -- calling him Eadberht, or even Justinian. Those names were his names, of course, and it was sort of nice to be reminded of being called that. But... he was Shining Knight, Sir Justin, and Justin Edbert now. He liked those names, and he liked being what he was to the people who used them.
"You're welcome, Nigel, but please," Justin said, stressing the 'please' just a little, "do try to remember you should wait until afternoon to call?"
"Oh! Normally I would, but Mary wasn't in today and I must get this finished by the end of the day..."
Justin held back from sighing. It would be rude. "I'm glad I was able to help, Nigel. Now, I'm going back to bed."
"Sleep well!"
"Yes..." Justin replied dryly, "let's hope I can."
****
It happened again the next night, though at the slightly more reasonable five a.m. And again the night after that, at three-thirty on the dot. When the phone rang on the fourth night in a row, Greg shot upright and reached over Justin almost before the first chime had stopped.
"Gregory..." Justin started, but Greg held up a hand. He was not in the mood to be nice anymore. He shouted into the phone, over Nigel using that nickname yet again,
"Now listen here, you addle-headed coffee boiling four-flusher! I have had it with you tryin' to pass the buck on your work to Justin. Just because he's too nice to tell you to pull in your horns!" Greg hissed in a breath as Nigel tried to stammer out a response, something about how there was no call to yell at him, and that just riled him up all the more. He had to turn away from Justin, sitting on the edge of his side of the bed as he continued, "If all your brains was dynamite, Mister Higgenbottom, you wouldn't have enough to blow your nose! If there was anything under your hat but hair, you wouldn't be takin' advantage of a gentleman like Justin, and you'd damn well listen when he tells you not to make calls at this ungodly hour."
"Mister Sanders, I demand to sp--"
"You ain't in no position to demand a damned thing, mudsill! You woke up the wrong passenger this time, and if you wasn't a complete waste of everybody's time, I might make the trip over there to learn you manners! In fact, if you say any word other than 'I'm sorry, it won't happen again' to Sir Justin in just a minute, I probably will make the jump! And when I get through with you, mister, there won't be enough left a' you to snore! Here!" The last snarled word was half directed at Justin, as he pulled the receiver away from his ear and pushed it into Justin's hand.
Greg crossed his arms over his chest and, for once, actually listened hard to hear what Nigel was saying.
"I... I..." the Englishman was stammering, stumbling over his words. Greg was willing to bet that he was winding up to some kind of rant, and he hoped the stupid crumb would. Then he could make good on his word.
Justin allowed the man a few moments of false start. Then, tone sharp, he asked, "...Well?"
There was only silence on the other end, and then, grudgingly, Nigel repeated back what he'd been instructed to. "I'm sorry, it won't happen again, Eadb--"
"Justin." The knight interrupted him firmly. "You call me Justin. I only allow friends who respect me and mine to call me Eadberht." And before Nigel could formulate an indignant protest to that, Justin hung up the phone.
Greg huffed out a breath, but he still didn't turn back toward Justin. "He was takin' advantage."
"He was upsetting you."
"Because he was takin' advantage of you," Greg insisted, like he was expecting to be disbelieved. Justin smiled softly.
"So that's what it feels like," he mused, reaching out to curl his arm around Greg's waist. The move eased some of the tension out of his lover, even as Greg (finally) turned his head and looked at him curiously.
"What?"
"To be on the other end of having honor defended."
"I was o--"
"Shh," Justin whispered. Knowing Greg, he would protest the description, saying it was only the right thing to do and not as noble as Justin was making it sound. He wished he could make Greg understand that it was the same thing. "Just let me thank you." Since he doubted he could find the words, he only leaned in close and kissed Greg's mouth gently.
Greg made a tiny, needy sound and cupped a hand against Justin's face as he kissed him back. He loved the way they always seemed to fit together, how Justin could make him feel loved and safe and needed with the simplest of gestures. But... he had to...
Justin almost sighed when Greg pulled back. Almost. But he controlled the impulse, and instead hauled his lover backward so they were both sprawled across the mattress before pressing up close to Greg's side and kissing him again.
"I'm sorry," Greg said immediately when his mouth was free.
"I'm not angry." Justin leaned closer, reaching an arm over Greg and planting a hand firmly on the mattress for support, just beside Greg's hip. He dropped a little kiss to the corner of Greg's mouth, then another on his jawline. Message received, Greg tilted his head back and to the side a little, and Justin continued kissing down his throat. He smiled again and admitted, "You saved me the trouble of deciding which language to curse at him in."
****
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2013-06-10 16:07 (UTC)*applauds*
no subject
on 2013-06-11 01:36 (UTC)I seriously could not help making them adorable. They just are. XD
I've got a larger, Greg-focused story in the works right now, and it'll eventually get around to Greg/Justin... but I may have to do more interludes like this, where they are already established. Because neither of these two will shut up in my head! :)
Thank you for reading and letting me know what you thought.