75 Godiva Road, Saturday Morning

[geniuswithasmartphone]

Noah often didn't want to get up in the mornings when that arrogant overseer, Cato, rang the bell calling the field hands to work. Being a blacksmith was easier than picking cotton--no worries about getting whipped if he didn't make weight, for one--but it was still long hours and hard work, making sure that all the horses were shoed and the tools repaired and every bit of metal on the plantation was bright and shining.

Waking up this morning was even harder. His bed felt soft, like a cloud, and his blankets like the gentlest cotton, wouldn't scratch a baby's naked ass. His sheets felt clean and crisp and the soft breathing from behind him--

Sheets?

Breathing?

Noah's eyes snapped open but he made himself lie perfectly still. Sure, last night had been one of Bareback Shaw's parties, but that didn't explain why he was asleep in one of the white folks' rooms! He didn't even wanna guess what kinda punishment that would entail if he was found here. Never mind the one he'd get for not being back in his quarters by sunup.

Another muffled noise behind him. Noah wasn't sure he wanted to look over and see who it was. He was praying that it would be another slave. Getting caught in a white woman's bed would result in something far worse than just more stripes on his back.

Maybe he could just...eeeeease on out of this bed and be out the door and on his way back to Macon before anyone was the wiser.

[For thems that live here! Also TRIGGER WARNING! Hardison is Noah from WGN's Underground and is a slave from 1850's Georgia. That means there will be references to slavery, beatings, lynchings, sexual assault and rape/coercion and pretty much every other horrible topic that comes up in conjunction with treating humans like chattel.]

Comments

[whoisalicewhite]

Miss Parker was not having a good morning. Well, mornings were not her favorite time anyway. But this felt like a hangover morning, and damn if she could even remember drinking.

There were two guys in this bed with her. Not. Good.

Easing her hand under the pillow for her gun, she growled, "Who the hell are you?"

[vdistinctive]

Eliot had barely been awake a whole minute and he already hated today. "This is my bed," he grumbled. "Pretty sure that's my line."

[whoisalicewhite]

Where the hell was her gun?! Parker snarled, and then found it tucked in the waistband of her pajamas. Already, this was not one of her favorite mornings ever. And she knew who to blame.

"Did Jarod put you up to this?" She whipped the gun around, and ... fell out of the bed. Jesus, this morning.

[vdistinctive]

Eliot looked at the gun and sighed. "Put that damn thing away before I take it from you."

[geniuswithasmartphone]

Oh god oh god oh god, the white folks had already started drawing guns. Noah was gonna be lucky if he just ended up shot and not lynched, burned, tarred, feathered, or some combination of the above.

"I'm so sorry, ma'am, suh," he said, his accent thick and voice full of barely repressed fear. "I ain't sure what done happen, an' I ain't mean to intrude, but I could jes' get myself outta here an' I won't cause no trouble, no suh, I ain't."

[whoisalicewhite]

Miss Parker gave him a sour look and said, "I'm not stopping you, Jethro. Scram." She gestured with the gun. "He's the one I have a problem with." Since the other guy was the one who seemed way too calm for the goddamn situation. "Do you have any idea where the hell we are?"

[geniuswithasmartphone]

"Yes'm," Noah said, bobbing his head. "Sorry, ma'am. Ain't mean to interfere in your conversation, ma'am. An' this is Georgia, ma'am, ain't far from my massa's plantation, Macon."

He was trying to scramble out of the bed, his back a welter of scars and ink.

[whoisalicewhite]

"What in the hell." His back was the convincing part, that this wasn't a joke or a set-up that he was participating in. Miss Parker was now pointing the gun at the floor and staring at the guy, because she knew she was a bitch but seriously. Crazy? Or victim? This had Jarod written all over it, so could be both.

"Jesus. I don't even know what to say to that." She paused for a long minute, then, in a calmer voice told him, "I'm not mad at you. So yeah. Take a breath. Leave if you want to. Or, you know, stick around while I deal with this guy. Whatever you want."

[geniuswithasmartphone]

"I'se gon' leave jes' as soon as I can find me my pants, ma'am," Noah said, practically groveling. He was also very carefully keeping his eyes averted, so she didn't think he was ogling her in her undress. She was mad at the white fella now, but it wouldn't take much to draw her ire instead. He was regretting mentioning the name of Massa Tom's plantation. "You an' this gentleman here can sort things out 'mongst yourselves."

[whoisalicewhite]

Miss Parker kind of hated obsequiousness, but again, this guy Noah was an extreme and weird case that probably wouldn't respond the way Broots did, with quiet snark that she was meant to miss. So she was left at loose ends at how to respond to that.

And then there was Cowboy Spencer dealing with the gun and all, and she finally just gave up on the whole situation until she had food and better clothing. Ugh.

"Food. Coffee." She snapped her fingers at him out of habit, then grimaced, stopping herself. "Sorry. Just." Argh. "I'm not ordering you to get me any. I'm not ordering you to do anything, ignore me if I'm a bitch, everyone I work with knows I'm horrible. I'm getting food, and coffee, and this guy is apparently not evil, so. Join us if you want to. Or not."

Christ, she could use a drink.

[whoisalicewhite]

Miss Parker gave him an insulted look, and slid backward. Thank god satin pajamas made that easier, but no, she did not put down the gun. "Excuse you. I asked you a question." She squinted over at the other guy, who was looking as freaked out as she was, then glanced around in paranoia. "Are there cameras in here?"

[vdistinctive]

Eliot looked briefly insulted. "No, there aren't any cameras in here."

Then he snapped his arms up and out, to knock the woman's aim away from any people and towards the wall, then grab onto the gun and snatch it from her hands.

[whoisalicewhite]

"Sonuvabitch," she hissed, shaking out the sting in her fingers from that blow, and backing away another step, much warier now as she got to her feet. She was a couple inches taller than Eliot in her bare feet. Her eyes darted around, cataloging the room. "What do you want?" And how soon were you going to let down your guard so she could rush you?

[vdistinctive]

Yeah, honey, you just pulled a gun in his bedroom. Eliot's guard wasn't going to be dropping any time soon.

He ejected the gun's magazine and popped the round from the chamber in one smooth move -- then couldn't figure out what to do with them. He usually just tossed them away, but then, he usually wasn't doing this in his bedroom.

"What do I want? Well for one thing, I'd like to know who the fuck are you and what happened to my damn girlfriend." He tipped his head back to Hardison. "And boyfriend. But I'm guessin' neither of you have any goddamn clue either because this fucking island hates us."

[whoisalicewhite]

"The Island. Hates you," Miss Parker said in a flat voice. "Okay. Jarod, I am going to kill you for this bullshit when I catch up with you."

When all else fails, blame the psycho in your life, right?

Some of the rest of what Eliot said had penetrated by now, so playing along, Miss Parker asked (albeit reluctantly), "Who's your girlfriend? And... boyfriend? Well. Aren't we the lucky one."

[vdistinctive]

"Not just now, no." Eliot raised an eyebrow. "And I asked you first, lady." She wasn't clearly panicking, like not-Hardison over there was, so he didn't much feel just now like playing nice.

[vdistinctive]

Eliot had been having the nicest dream. Maybe his subconscious had noticed the shift in the bed and decided to buffer him for what was to come?

No, probably it was just the island having a sense of irony.

Either way, he was muzzier than usual when he woke up to Hardison shifting around. So he just reached over to tug him back into place without opening his eyes, and murmured, "s'okay, darlin'. You're jus' havin' a bad dream."

His accent was extra thick when he was sleepy. It wasn't anything near a posh Georgian one, but it was unmistakably a southern drawl. . . .

[geniuswithasmartphone]

Bad dream didn't even start to cover it. He was...definitely naked yes. So was the man next to him. And a white lady, in pajamas. Maybe that meant that everyone would agree that she clearly hadn't been involved in whatever had...happened?...for the sake of her honor? And that might mean he could get out of this uncastrated.

Of course, it might mean that they'd kill him to keep the secret, but that was still one of the faster deaths he was envisioning in this scenario.

"Y-Y-Yes suh," he said, voice unmistakably trembling in fear. This much, he barely had to act. "But it time for me to be up anyway, so's I jes gon' leave y'all an' get back to Massa's. He'll be wantin' me soon."

He tried to sit up with as little fuss as he could, back to Eliot's eyes.

[vdistinctive]

"Did you just call me 'sir'?" This was a Fandom thing, wasn't it. What the fuck had it done to them now? Eliot was waking up fast now. "Woah, just -- sit down. Who's wantin' you?"

[geniuswithasmartphone]

"Massa, suh," Noah said, bobbing his head. "Massa Tom. He gave me permission to go to Miz Shaw's las' night, which mus' be where I met you fine folks, but you know how he get 'bout his Negroes gettin' home on time."

The word he used was not 'Negroes.'

"Bes' be on my way now. But I can send one of y'all's folk up if you need somethin'?"

[vdistinctive]

Eliot's understanding went from zero to oh holy fuck no extremely fast as Noah explained, and he actually flinched when the not "negroes" term came up.

This was bad. This was so very, very bad.

"I don't -- I don't have any --" Eliot shook his head hard. "Look, you're not in any trouble. I promise." He didn't really expect to be believed on that, but it was worth a shot. "But you are a long way from -- from home." Could that even be called 'home'? Oh jesus. "I'm Eliot. What, uh. What do they call you?"

[geniuswithasmartphone]

"Noah, suh," Noah said, bobbing his head again. "I--I am? Miz Shaw's ain't that far from Macon, suh. That's Massa Tom's plantation, suh. I can't be all that far. I ain't got permission to be more'n a few miles from home."

[vdistinctive]

Shit shit shit.

"We're in Maryland." Eliot really wished he could say they were further north. McRory's in Boston would be great. "You ain't gonna believe me on this but it's 2017. You ain't a slave here. Your kinda slavery, it's been gone more'n 150 years."

Fuck, what was he going to do if Noah wanted to leave? Miss Parker or whatever over there he could just yell at to sit down and shut up, but he was not going to be a white guy ordering a damn slave around.

Shit shit shit shit shit. . . .

[geniuswithasmartphone]

"Uhhh..." There was a moment of sheer disbelief on Noah's face before it was smoothed away under a mask of obedience. "Oh, of course, suh. That makes perfect sense."

[vdistinctive]

Eliot felt sick, hearing that obsequious tone from someone who looked so much like Hardison. He sighed. "I know you've got a brain, man," he said. "Look, just -- gimme a minute to get some pants on and I'll show you." He nodded to Hardison's dresser. "Should be stuff that'll fit you in there if you want to get dressed yourself. You can take your time -- anyone comes lookin' for you, I promise they'll haveta go through me first, okay?"