Boardwalk Empire thingie

[Tarkus]

Ohhhhh, boy, where to start on this one...

So, there is this fantastic show on HBO called Boardwalk Empire. It is a (mostly) fictional tale surrounding a corrupt county treasurer in the 1920s, during the Prohibition Era. It's a pretty great show, if you don't mind the sex or violence. It's a very complex storyline, as well, with lots of characters interesecting and partnering up, making and breaking alliances. Everyone is important in some way. It's one of those shows where you have to actively pay attention in order to understand what's going on.

The two characters I'm gonna be palying around with are Enoch "Nucky" Thompson and Margaret Schroeder. Nucky is the corrupt county treasurer/ gangster I mentioned earlier. Margaret is his lover, a poor Irish immigrant with two small children. They now live in an enormous flat together with her kids while he buys her all kinds of expensive baubles.

In the show, Margaret is played by Kelly MacDonald. Nucky is played by... *deep breath* Steve Buscemi.

--this is the part where everyone either flees the thread entirely and bleaches their eyeballs or, if you're a young 'un, goes to Google and types in his name. Then bleaches their eyeballs--

I understand. It is 100% absolutely not normal to associate anything at all sexual with Steve Buscemi. I get that. Also understand, dear reader, that I am not a normal person. I like what I like, I guess, and if you are like 98.7% of the normal population, you will not find Steve Buscemi remotely attractive.

Of course, that does not stop anyone from reading anyway, and replacing the characters looks with someone they find more appealing. It's all good. The only reason this (will be) two part mini-fic is the second episode of the second season of Boardwalk. He just looked so defeated, and sickly, and exhausted. I haaaaaaad to, you guys ;_;

Disclaimer: Martin Scorsese and Tim Van Patten own this show. Not me. I own nothing but a chubby calico cat and a laptop. And my brain,too, I guess.

I REGRET NOTHING!!!

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“Poor Enoch, you’re exhausted. Come to bed- our bed.”

Margaret left the ledger crackling in the fireplace as she turned her back to him and continued up the stairs. Downing a glass of port to combat the mild scratchiness in his throat, he followed shortly thereafter. As he reached the top of the steps, he sniffled against a small, niggling itch that had taken up residence in the back of his sinuses. The light from the bedroom silhouetted his lover’s form against the wall of the hallway. He took a moment to reflect on her beauty, the soft curves and gentle planes of her body, temporarily forgetting the troublesome tickle.

She too saw his shadow in the doorway. “Glad you could make it, Mr. Thompson.”, she murmured as he entered, pressing her lips to his forehead. A frown immediately graced her attractive features. “You’re a bit warm.” One hand came to rest upon his forehead. “Hmm, I think you may have a touch of fever. I should get the thermometer.” She began to turn towards the bathroom, but his hand clasped lightly but firmly over her wrist before she could.

“I’ve just been sitting too long next to the fire, is all.” He smiled, his other hand straying towards the pin holding her bun together. In one quick motion, the pin was gone, the delicate curls of her hair freed to gently frame her face. “You’re beautiful, you know.”

She returned the smile with obvious warmth, even as she pried his fingers steadily from her wrist. “And you are still going to get your temperature taken.”

“Can’t you take a compliment?”

“I could… if I knew you weren’t saying it to try and distract me.”, she quipped, as she disappeared into the bathroom. “I know you a bit too well, I’m afraid.”

While she was fetching the thermometer, he chose to finish undressing. Unfortunately, as he loosened the paisley tie from his neck, the strange, prickling sensation that had toyed with him earlier returned with a vengeance as it traveled in irritated spirals down his nose, eventually reaching a breaking point.

“hhd’ ISCH’ue!” The tickle was not yet satisfied with the one, apparently. “huuh-Hck’TSSHT!” It was then he realized, with frustration, that he had left his handkerchief in the breast pocket of his jacket. All the way downstairs.

“Dia Linn.”, came the quiet blessing. Margaret appeared by his side then, thermometer in one hand and a pressed, white handkerchief of a sturdy fabric in the other.

“What is that, Gaelic?”, he asked, taking the proffered cloth.

“That’s how we always blessed each other when I was a child in Kerry“, she replied. Turning from him to give him the opportunity to clear his nose in peace, she continued. .”“How did you know it was Gaelic?”

He gave a low chuckle before it dissolved into a harsh cough. “I’m part Irish, remember.” Burying his nose into the cloth and giving a mildly congested blow into the folds, he elaborated, “My grandma used to bless my brother and I like that, so I recognize the saying.” A watery sniffle punctuated this statement and his head dipped swiftly down to muffle another strong pair of sneezes.

“mmf-SHH! Heht-ITKCH’ ue!”

“Dia Linn.” She paused a moment. “Or “bless you”, if you‘d like. I don’t really have a preference between the two.”

“Dia Linn, I think. Everyone else says “bless you”. You’re the only one who blesses me like that.” He extended an arm, and she began unbuttoning his shirt cuffs. “It sounds pretty. It suits you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Although,” she placed the silver cufflinks on the bedside table, “you are still getting your temperature taken now that we’re done here.” Smiling, she retrieved the small stick of glass from where it lay at the foot of the bed. “Open up.”

“Is this really necessary?”, he groused.

She raised a curious eyebrow. “If you don’t want it in your mouth, there are other places I can put it, though I don’t know if you’d find that more or less favorable.”

“Funny. You should have your own show at the speaks.” Giving her a final glare, he relented, allowing her to place the thermometer in his mouth.

“Now keep it there for at least a minute- longer if you can. I want to make sure it’s accurate.” She began brushing out her hair and readying for bed as he waited.

As he glanced briefly at the lamp by the bed, the same crawling tingle re-entered his swollen sinuses, prickling its way towards a burgeoning sneeze. He sniffled wetly, the action doing little more than encouraging it. The thermometer still sat patiently to the right corner of his mouth.

“Margaret…” he began, as it became increasingly clear to him that the thermometer would not be in his mouth for much longer. “I-hih…

She sighed and continued brushing out her hair, her back to him still. “Enoch, if you don’t keep the thermometer in, we’ll have to do this all over again and I don‘t wish to-"

“Hp-ESZch’ue!”

She spun around at the sound, witnessing the tail end of the sneeze and him placing the thermometer away from him on the dresser. With a concerned sigh, she set the brush back upon the vanity to sit with him on the bed. “Dia Li-”

Another hitched breath. “N-nhuh-t done… Huuh- NGHssh!”

“Dia Linn. Seems to taper off at two…”

“INGHSZ’ue!” He rocked forward with a final sneeze directed into the soft depths of the handkerchief, ending in a smattering of congested sniffles.

“God bless you!” She said forcefully, as if saying the phrase with conviction would somehow help his situation. All pretense gone, at this moment he was not the ruler of Atlantic City; he was just another man with a cold. Both pity and worry filled her at once. And (and this she would not admit without more than a touch of shame, even to herself) a twinge of excitement. She had never witnessed such a man as powerful and influential as her lover beset by such a common ailment. A sense of eagerness played at her mind. She could care for him, the man who over the last few months had cared so deeply and had done so much for her and her children. It was exhilarating. “I think it’d be best if we deal with this tomorrow. You,” she paused to plant another tender kiss against his forehead, “need your rest. I’m going to be taking very good care of you.”

“Oh, really?” He questioned. “I’m gonna have to call Eddie and tell him I’ll be out tomorrow. I’ll also have to cancel more than a few important appointments.”

“I’ll tell Nan not to lay out a suit for you tomorrow morning. And if you’re good,” she began unbuttoning his dress shirt, sliding the silk fabric from his shoulders, “I’ll make you my world famous chicken noodle soup.”

“World famous, huh? I guess I can’t say no to that.”

“Then don’t.” She slid her fingers slowly through his hair. “Sleep now, my love. Tomorrow belongs to the two of us.”

"Tomorrow never looked so promising.” And with this statement, Margaret turned the knob to dim the lamp, leaving both their forms in darkness.

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So yea, I'm working on a part two to this because this story has eaten my brain.

Hope you guys liked it!

Edited January 11, 2013 by catmuffinz

[PuddinPop]

oooooh I like this!!! Iv never watched the show, but I am aware it exists haha, ur writing is splendid as always catmuffinz, I cant wait for the next part!!!

[iety]

wow, I never thought finding Steve Buscemi cute would come back to me in such a wonderful way OuO Either way, though, this is wonderfully written and so sweet.