Chapter Text
On his way back to the trench, second thoughts started creeping in. Surely, even someone who believed in soulmates as disgustingly sincerely as Haig did would baulk at Baldrick being theirs, even if he wasn't routinely killing thousands of men a week in a fashion that suggested if he'd ever had a heart, he'd long since discarded it.
(Blackadder wouldn't have cared about that if he wasn't one of the poor buggers that Haig was determined to kill.)
Returning back to his old dug-out, however, made Blackadder determined to find some way to use this to his advantage, just to never end up back here. The smell was bad enough, and that was before he even got to the two idiots who bounded up to see him like confused, neglected, hideous puppies.
"Gosh, captain, it's good to see you back! You were having such a lovely time with Captain Darling that I thought we'd never see you back here again."
"I, too, wish I never had to see you again, George, but alas, here I am."
"Since you're here, sir, would you like a nice cup of coffee?"
"Absolutely not. No, I've moved beyond drinking warm mud now."
"That's a shame, I find a nice cup of warm mud cheers me up in the morning." Blackadder pushed Baldrick aside and approached George, determined to make this as quick as possible. It felt like he was tempting fate by coming here, and he didn't want to give saucy, fickle Lady Luck the chance to make good on that temptation.
"George, what do you know about Field Marshal Haig?" George considered the question deeply, before puffing out his cheeks and giving up.
"Well, I don't know much about the chap at all. Though Aunt Sylvia told me last time I was home that he and Lady Haig are now living separately."
"Really?" It was a shame Aunt Sylvia wasn't here, she sounded much more useful than George. "Why? Was she sick of him trying to get her to slowly walk towards the enemy's guns, too?"
"Oh, some disagreement over how to raise their tortoise, Alan. Apparently, he's heartbroken over the whole thing!"
"He's got a funny way of showing it," Blackadder muttered, before going, "anything else?"
"Ah, that's it! She said that the rumour is that he's still looking for his soulmate. He's never had much luck with it, even though he's been looking for years. Aunt Sylvia said that his soul mark is on his arm in the shape of a—"
"Little chipolata," Blackadder finished. "George, do you know anyone else who has a soul mark like that?"
"You?" Blackadder inhaled deeply through his nose and tried not to throttle George. It wouldn't make him any smarter, unfortunately.
"No, George. Not me. Perhaps someone else in this dug-out?"
"...me?" George asked, confused.
"No! Doesn't your mark look like a squid?"
"It's an octopus, sir."
"They're the same bloody thing! No, try rubbing those two pieces of cotton wool you call brain cells together and think." With remarkable effort, George tried to think, and then finally, finally, his face lit up.
"Oh!" Turning to Baldrick, he went, "well, congratulations are in order, Balders! What big, exciting news this is! It's enough to make a chap want to loudly go 'hurrah!'"
"Don't you dare," Blackadder snapped.
"Thank you, sir!" After a pause, Baldrick asked, "what news?"
"Why, the news that you're Field Marshal Haig's soulmate!"
"Am I? I thought I didn't have a soul. Captain Blackadder said that I'm like a piece of stale furniture."
"Oh, never fear, Baldrick. I don't think Haig has a soul either, which makes you two perfect for each other." Blackadder turned to hold Baldrick's shoulders, then thought better of it. He'd forgotten exactly how unsanitary Baldrick was in the sparkling cleanliness of the Château. For all his other numerous faults, Darling kept a tidy house. Confident that with a bit of luck, some charm, and a reminder of what that sharpened mango had nearly ended, he had this all in hand, Blackadder asked Baldrick, "are you ready to marry a Field Marshal?"
"Oh, yes sir! The general might have not been ready for my simple home-cooking, but a Fetid Mistrial might appreciate it, after all those fancy banquets he goes to."
"Yes, let's leave cooking for old Duggie until the second date, shall we? Nobody wants to die on the first date...even if it's a date with you."
As Blackadder shut the front door of the Château, he heard another door open. The hallway was dark, but the opened door to the shared office threw a rectangle of yellow light across the hall. Darling leaned against the frame of the open door. He was tired, with dark circles that made him look like a panda bear, but his eyes were still sharp and focused on Blackadder.
"You're back late."
"Not that it's any of your business where I go or what I do, you nosey git." Darling folded his arms, unimpressed, but not stroppy.
"What are you up to, Blackadder?" he asked. It almost sounded like he was concerned about him, rather than concerned with foiling his latest brilliant scheme. Blackadder tapped the side of his nose, and Darling shook his head. "You've only got a couple more days to successfully match a couple, you know. You can't arse around, you need to knuckle down and get serious, for once in your life."
"Why, Darling," Blackadder commented as he leaned down to untie his shoelaces, "you almost sound like you care." Usually, that accusation would get a furious reaction, Darling hissing that he would never care about such an awful, terrible bastard like him. Tonight, however, as he eased his feet out of his shoes, he said nothing. Blackadder walked over to the open door and Darling straightened up.
"You'll probably fail anyway, but you could at least make a serious effort. Really, I don't get it. Sometimes you get these incredible strokes of good fortune, and then you squander it away. I think you're your own worst enemy, sometimes."
"Well, I am the only person who's good enough for myself." The lights inside the office were bright as Blackadder reached the door, and Darling made just enough room for Blackadder to join him on the threshold. "Who else would my worst enemy be? You? You're more of a buzzing little nuisance than anything." Darling unfolded one arm and reached out to touch his cheek.
"Oh, I don't know, I'm quite good at foiling your ridiculous schemes. I'm hurt that you don't take me more seriously." Not hurt enough to stop caressing his cheek, though.
"It would be a sign of insanity if I did. Are you still working?"
"Yup. The field marshal arrives tomorrow at 1000 hours sharp." Oh, Blackadder knew. He'd ordered George and Baldrick to arrive at seven o'clock in the morning, to allow for the two of them getting lost on the way. Dropping his hand, Darling added, "God knows when I'll get to sleep tonight, there's still so much to do."
"Don't worry, even if you did try to get some beauty sleep, it wouldn't help you."
"Ha ha," Darling replied flatly. "Go on, sod off to bed." Before he did just that, he leaned in and kissed Darling, who tiredly returned it.
"Good night, Darling." It was mocking but Darling only twitched a little from it. As he went down the hall towards the bedroom, a voice called out.
"Blackadder." He paused and turned to look at the nuisance, who didn't look even slightly sorry about stopping him. "Whatever stupid thing you're planning to do, don't. Good night." With that he shut the door, and the hallway went dark.
It was strange. Over the last few days, Darling was almost being…nice to him. By his standards, which meant that he wasn't actively trying to kill Blackadder or sabotage him. A few more shags, and Blackadder might be able to get him to agree to pretend to be his soulmate. He wasn't even that bad a ride by this point, he'd picked up quickly on what Blackadder liked and kept doing it, even if he was incapable of not making weird noises during sex. Considering what was available in the trenches—sod all—he was doing quite well out of this.
Well, even if Darling turned out to be a traitorous little shrew who was just trying to soften him up—hah, never—this Haig match would set him for life. Once he'd got Baldrick to clamber up the social ladder, after he got him out of the murky puddle far below that ladder that he was currently lurking in, all of Darling's plotting against him would be futile. Blackadder would safely be in that Château far away from his nefarious schemes, before making that hop over to London. Why, he might never have to see the git again.
Blackadder paused with his hand on the door handle for the bedroom. He turned back to look at the door to the office, as the light leaked around the edges of it.
Yes, he might never have to see that horrible, annoying prat again.
They flattened themselves against the wall of the hall and waited. Well, he and George did. Baldrick had long since lost his fight with gravity and was now lying on the floor instead. If this soulmate business didn't work out—which it would—he could always turn Baldrick into a rug. It was the first thing he'd seen Baldrick succeed at.
"Is he coming?" George asked.
"Any second now," Blackadder replied. He knew this visit had been planned to the second, and Darling, despite Melchett's best efforts to derail it, would desperately fight to keep it to schedule. Blackadder had stolen a copy of the itinerary from the office this morning, because as he'd suspected, Darling was too sleep deprived last night to lock it up like he should. Now he knew exactly where Haig was, and currently he was busy scoffing port in Melchett's office.
The door opened and Blackadder clicked his fingers, signalling to Baldrick to get up. Baldrick continued to lie on the floor. Glancing at George, he gestured for him to pull Baldrick up from the floor, which he did with a "heave-ho!"
"And who's this?" Haig asked as he came out, giving Blackadder a squinty look like he'd never seen him before in his whole life as he saluted. Ungrateful git.
Darling furiously waved a hand at him, asking him to not do whatever it was he was about to do. Blackadder took great delight in ignoring him.
"Oh, good afternoon, field marshal, I didn't realise you were visiting today. You may remember me from what we met many years ago, when I saved your life." When Haig looked at him blankly, Blackadder prompted, "it was a remarkably sharp mango that woman had."
"My God! Blackie! I haven't seen you since..."
"1892, sir."
"By God, that long, is it? Well, it's a surprise to see you here. Keep up the good work—"
"Actually, since you're here, I think there's someone I should introduce you to. See, I remembered how back then, I saw your soul mark and you said you were looking for the matching little chipolata of your heart. I've been working for the general here, on that soulmate matching work to improve morale—"
"Oh, that," Haig said without interest, but Blackadder ploughed ahead.
"And I've found someone who has the same soul mark as you have, sir." Before Blackadder could tee him up with a description that made him sound slightly less disgusting, Baldrick interrupted him.
"'s me, sir. I've always wanted to meet my soulmate, even though I don't have a soul, and even if you're a marshmallow." Haig recoiled from Baldrick, backing away as he approached, battering his eyelashes.
"Melchie, this is your bloody corps, you deal with this," he demanded before covering up his mouth with a handkerchief. "Good Lord, what is that smell?"
"It's me," Baldrick said proudly, before Haig fled the hall for his waiting driver outside. Blackadder caught a glimpse of Darling's horrified expressions, before Melchett grabbed him to pull him into his office and shake him hard enough that he thought he was about to lose all his teeth.
"Are you a complete and utter gibbering fool? What on earth are you doing, trying to match someone as important as the field marshal with some sort of knuckle-dragging, smelly, cave creature who's never had a bath in his life?"
"True love knows no bounds?" Blackadder desperately pleaded.
"Do you think that the class system we have in this country is a joke? No, sir! It's the bulwark of our civilization! That's the difference between us and those dreadful, uncivilized brutes on the other side. In Blighty, everyone knows their place!"
"The Germans? Sir, I think you'll find they, too, respect their inbred morons—"
"What the devil are you talking about, you blithering imbecile? The Germans show due respect to their superiors! No, I'm talking about the Yanks, those uncouth, disrespectful believers in all men being equal." Melchett shuddered. "Next, you'll be telling me you want to throw all the tea into the harbour and to address the King as Mr Windsor! By God, you're practically a Bolshevik with this scheme of yours, trying to undermine the King and the whole Country! I ought to have you shot."
"Sir," Darling interrupted, which made them both turn towards him. Nervously, he swallowed before saying, "I think Blackadder just got caught up in the excitement of playing Cupid. I don't think he was trying to undermine British society." Blackadder double took at Darling trying to help him but grabbed the rope he'd been thrown regardless.
"Yes, I fully respect the ruling class and their determination to crush the plebs under their heels. Otherwise, it would just be anarchy, and we would all end up being, like you fear, Americans." Melchett refused to be mollified.
"Cupid? More like stupid! You haven't successfully matched a single couple together, you arse!"
"There are a few couples that are coming along nicely, sir." What was this? Blackadder was more alarmed by Darling being helpful than by Melchett bellowing at him—not that he was enjoying that, either. Melchett turned on Darling, who immediately paled.
"So what? He's had plenty of time to get two people to fall in love, so what's the hold up?"
"True love can't be rushed?" Darling squeaked.
"And what about you, Darling? Is this odious fathead really your soulmate?" For all his previous bravery, Darling went suspiciously quiet at that question.
"I think he's mine, sir—"
"I wasn't asking you, Blackadder, you disgusting, lovesick fool!"
"A disgusting what?" Melchett ignored his outrage to focus on Darling. His moustache was twitching like an excited Jack Russell that was about to jump off to savage the cowering rat in front of him.
"Tell me!" Blackadder desperately mimed, behind Melchett's back, all the various threats he could think of to stop Darling saying that he wasn't. Darling, staring into the middle distance, ignored him. Oh, bugger.
"Yes, sir," he finally said, not meeting anyone's eyes. "I'm certain that Blackadder is my soulmate."
What.
The biggest surprise was that Darling didn't look like he was lying. In fact, he looked serious, like he really did think Blackadder was his soulmate. Was the rumpy-pumpy enough to turn his head? Blackadder knew he was good, but he'd never been so good in bed before that it'd saved his life.
"Since he is my soulmate, and he successfully matched us, could you give him more time? I'm sure he'll find others their…happiness," Darling's voice stuck on that word, but he carried on, "too."
"Well," Melchett replied, looking at Blackadder fiercely, "you're lucky that you've got your soulmate to vouch for you, Blackadder. You have three days, and if you don't have any results by then, I'll shoot you myself. Dismissed!" Both captains saluted and scrambled out of the room before he could change his mind.
"What," he said out loud as soon as the door shut. The hallway was now deserted, George and Baldrick, of course, had fled the moment the bellowing started. He would get his own back on them, but later. After he'd processed whatever had just happened there. Darling grabbed his arm and shook it frantically, until he turned to him.
"You absolute idiot, what the hell were you doing—never mind that," he cut himself off. "You've launched yourself right into the soup, practically did a double flip into it, in fact, but I might be able to fish you out. If we..." His brain finally caught up with the past five minutes, and one question stood front and centre, shoving all others away.
"Why did you say I'm your soulmate?" Darling stopped, still holding onto his arm, before leaning his head back, as if to get a better look at his stupidity.
"Because you are?"
"I'm what? No, I'm not, because we both know," he dropped his voice, "that soulmates don't sodding exist! I know you don't believe in that crap."
"No, I didn't. Not until you touched my soul mark, and I felt it."
"Felt what?" Blackadder asked, feeling like he'd just parachuted into a foreign country where everyone spoke something that sounded like English but was in fact complete gibberish. Darling cleared his throat, embarrassed enough that his ears were going red again.
"That electric shock you feel when your soulmate touches your mark."
Wait. The electric shock. It all fell into place. Why Darling had turned around and snogged him so passionately after turning the light out. Why he'd been so unusually eager that night, and why he'd been almost nice towards him since.
"Darling, that was an electric shock. The bedside lamp has incredibly dodgy wiring, like half the lights in this sodding building do. It gives me a shock every time I turn it on or off."
"Oh," Darling said in surprise, blinked, and then went, "oh," again. Then he buckled, doubling over as he crouching down with his head in his hands before going, very loudly, "oh for fuck's sake." With a moan of mortification, he covered his face. Blackadder looked away. While usually he would enjoy seeing Darling humiliated like this, this current situation was awkward for him too. God, Darling really thought they were soulmates. What a horrible thought.
"I really expected more from you, you know."
"Shut up," Darling muttered, refusing to move his hands from his face.
"Well, at least your delusions saved my bacon there." In response to the little groan that got, he said, "never mind that rubbish, though. If you want me to continue to act as your, hah, soulmate, then I will, as long as you don't try to sabotage me." Darling took a deep breath, before unfolding himself back to his full height. For someone who'd just experienced such gut-wrenching humiliation, he looked remarkably together, apart from the lingering flush on his cheeks.
(Blackadder dismissed the thought of when he'd seen that lingering flush before, while Darling was wearing significantly less clothing.)
"I'll do one better than that. I have a plan that'll lead to you setting up that bureau. But," and of course there was a but, wasn't there always, "you'll do something for me in return."
"What, make you go knock-kneed and cross-eyed on the regular?"
"No! I want to join the bureau, too. Promise me that you'll put me on the staff, and I'll help you."
"No. Why should I help you? You're so happy here that taking you away would deprive you of all the joy you get from sucking up to Melchett." Darling pulled a face.
"I can live without it. Look, do you really want to do all that paperwork? If you take me with you, I'll do it. Otherwise, who else? You? Baldrick?" Darling snorted.
"...good point. Fine, it'd be cruel to deprive you of paperwork, so I'll ask for you on the staff. Now, what's this plan of yours?"
"We match-make Melchett." That sounded a lot like the plan that'd just nearly got him shot.
"Are you trying to get me killed?"
"No, because unlike Haig, General Melchett still believes in that rot. Someone more important than him told him it's true, so it must be true!"
"As opposed to you, who believed in it until five minutes ago."
"On the basis of faulty evidence! Anyway, forget that." Blackadder didn't want to; he would never stop mocking Darling about that bungle. "Melchett is keen to find his soulmate, and not just because he really believes in them. His family wants him or his sister to marry, and Miss Melchett isn't getting married anytime soon. So it's all on him. If he can find his soulmate, it'll trump any other prospects being offered to him."
"People want to marry that bloated old coot? I know there's a shortage of men, but they must be desperate. They'd be better off marrying an actual sea lion." Darling covered up his snort of laughter with a cough, but he heard it.
"So, find his soulmate, and the bureau is a dead set. It'll be his baby, so he won't throw it out with the bathwater." Darling had the kind of delight in his eyes that before now he'd only seen when he'd just foiled one of Blackadder's schemes. It was rather fun to see all that weasel-like cunning in its full glory when it wasn't being used against him. "All you need to do is find someone who's got a mark that looks like a squid on the back of their knee. Or octopus."
"George. That's bloody George!" God had left a window open after so rudely slamming the door shut in his face after all. He grabbed Darling's cheeks and pulled him in for a quick kiss. In return, and a little flushed, Darling grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the bedroom.
"That's definitely George?"
"Yup. Looks like a squid and it's on the back of his knee. It's about time they put their expensive public school education to some use, considering they've done sod all with it so far. They were surprisingly eager to get married when George was wearing a dress, so it'll hardly be a push to get them interested when they're both wearing trousers." That earnt him a suspicious look.
"When was that?" He quickly changed the subject. If he thought about thespians for a second longer, he'd go off the boil.
"Weren't you dragging me off to the bedroom for a quick, celebratory, 'thank God you're alive, Blackadder, I'd be lost without you,' shag before we put my cunning plan in action?"
"Yours? You didn't even bloody do anything, and now you're taking all the credit," Darling groused. Looking out into the hall as he opened the door, Darling asked, "who left the light on? That's so wasteful. Blackadder, turn it off." As Blackadder leaned over from the open door to the light switch, a hand reached for his bottom and squeezed it. A shock through him, like electricity zapping him, but there was a vague, spooky uneasiness too. Almost like something was entangled with that shock. A strange, alarming, unnatural feeling of completeness, perhaps.
Nah.
No chance. He looked at the light switch he'd just turned off. It was just dodgy wiring again. 'Destiny' and all that crap was for idiots who were happy to let things just happen to them. Blackadder would never. Not only would he take what he wanted, he would always take the reins in his own life, and right now, what he wanted was to make Darling squirm and gasp before he rogered the life out of him. So, he would do just that.
And with that thought, Blackadder shut the door.