Brimsley and Reynolds

Chapter 4

"It doesn't mean anything," Brimsley thought in the morning. "Nothing happened," But he couldn't stop his mind, drifting back to Reynolds holding his hand. The smell of the gardenias. They were so close, all it would have taken was for one of them to reach out and-. 

He shook his head. "No no no," he whispered to himself. This is not what he needs to be thinking about. The Queen's eminent arrival is moving closer and closer, and while he might not be of any use now, he still needs to be focused on preparing for the wedding.

As he is leaving his room, he nearly bumps into Reynolds. They're both leaving half an hour early. Does this mean they're both trying to avoid each other because of the other night? "Stop that Brimsley, nothing happened the other night." , he thinks. 

"Good morning Reynolds," he says tentatively, unable to figure out how the King's man is feeling about this bump in he was so clearly trying to avoid. 

Reynolds nods curtly, "Good morning. I am needed by the King early today, I should be on my way," 

 "As should I," Brimsley replies, even though they both know he has nothing to do and nowhere he has to be.

He waits for Reynolds to disappear around the corner before he goes back into his room, retrieves his sketchbook, and heads for his library. If Reynolds's wants to avoid him, he supposes he will avoid that spot too. 

He nestles comfortably in the window nook with his sketchbook and a cup of tea Ms. Burnard prepared for him. He's still working on the portrait of Reynolds sitting in the very place he's sitting in right now. He allows time to pass as he works on bringing his drawing to life. 

The sun becomes brighter, and the hustle and bustle of the morning calms as most of the house staff goes on their lunch break. Brimsley looks up as he hears the door to the library creak. Reynolds.

"I thought you might be in here,"  he says in his cool voice. He holds up two sandwiches, "Ms. Burnard mentioned you haven't stopped by for lunch, so I brought lunch to you,"

 Brimsley froze, too shocked to remember to close his sketchbook. He thought he would be here, and he came anyway. He came because of him. What did that mean? Reynolds leaned over to pass Brimsley his sandwich, peering down at his sketchbook.

 Brimsley quickly slammed it shut before taking the sandwich, "Thank you, for lunch," he said slowly.

 "Do you draw?" Reynolds asked, gesturing to the book.

He looks down, as if seeing it for the first time, "Umm not really..... sort of.....I suppose," 

Reynolds laughs as he takes a bite of his sandwich, sitting down on the other side of the nook and stretching his legs out till they're running vertically along Brimsley's that are bent at the knee. "That's three answers to a pretty simple question," he says after swallowing his food.

He shrugs, "I draw, I don't draw well. It's just something I do in my spare time," 

Reynolds kicks Brimsley's foot lightly, "I highly doubt you don't draw well. Let me have a look," he says, reaching for the book.

 He shakes his head, "Absolutely not," he responds.

 "Oh come on Brimsley, don't be shy about it, let me see," Brimsley just shakes his head again, a light smile playing on his lips as he sees how badly he wants to see his sketchbook.

Reynolds leans back, taking Brimsley's cup of tea and putting it to his lips. "Ugh, it's cold," he says, obviously disgusted but still laughing.

 "Oh, so dramatic. That's what you get for drinking another man's tea," Brimsley responds with a smile.