Chapter Text
Lowe didn't want to wake up. He didn't want to open his eyes, he didn't want to leave the warmth and comfort of the bed he was lying in, and he didn't want to face the chilly air, nor the responsibilities that lay before him this day.
At least not yet.
It was no secret to any of the crew now that Titanic's Fifth Officer took particular pleasure in slumber. A rather unfortunate infatuation due to his rather tedious watch schedule which only ever allowed for four hours in between for sleep at any given time. Less really, if you factor in his need to use the facilities and prepare himself for bed, then to repeat the process when it was time for him to take his next watch. His accommodations onboard also compounded his infatuation, as while his cabin wasn't the largest, it was of a comfortable size and appointed just as handsomely as most first class state rooms in any of the plethora of vessels he had found himself on during his career.
Thank God his cabin hadn't been truncated for more first class spaces like Moody's had. The poor man was still complaining about the size of it, and Andrews' explanation as to why his cabin was the size that it was, had done nothing to endear him to the Sixth Officer.
But something had pricked Lowe's ears and had dragged him away from the land of Nod and back into his cabin onboard Titanic. Not an alarming sound, just a soft rustling of clothing, the brush of a shoe against carpet. His sleep muddled brain registered these sounds as normal, yet not. They were of course perfectly mundane auditory phenomena that he heard every single day, but not in the confines of his cabin while he was still in bed and not the one making them.
His eyes slowly opened, and he found himself staring at the enameled white wood panels of the officers' quarters. The fact that he could see it all meant that it was morning, though very early morning, based on the blueish tinge to the normally bright white. He blinked his eyes several times to remove the haze of sleep from them, but ultimately had to pull a hand out from under the warm covers to rub away the haze manually.
Another soft sound reminded him why he was awake in the first place, and he quickly dropped his hand from his eyes to turn onto his back. He braced his right arm on the mattress and sat up just enough get a good look at his cabin.
"Mi-Mister Wilde?" he croaked confusedly, his voice thick with the vestiges of sleep.
What on Earth was he doing in his cabin? The man was mostly dressed, though still in his shirt sleeves, and he was leaning over the small wash basin against the wall, looking into the mirror as he affixed his starched collar to the neck of his shirt. Lowe could see the other man's blue eyes flick to his in the mirror, and he gave him a small, but warm smile.
"Morning, lad. Sorry to have woken you so early. I had thought to let you have a few minutes more before we started the day. I figured after yesterday you could use it, but I guess I wasn't quiet enough," he chuckled, his tone friendly and unconcerned.
Lowe could only stare at him as his brain struggled to connect the dots. Yesterday? What had happened yesterday again? And why was Wilde in his cabin? Come to think of it, why did his cabin not look right to his eyes? Lowe braced himself on his elbow as he once again rubbed at his uncooperative eyes. After giving them a good scrub and blinking them a few more times, he looked back over at Wilde who was still there, now standing straight, and was tying his tie under that very same collar.
Lowe, unable to process what he was seeing in his still sleep addled mind, sat himself up proper in the bed, the warm covers sliding down his torso into a heap in his lap. His mind raced to come up with reasons for another officer to be in his cabin uninvited. He could really only come up with one, and that sent a shock of adrenaline through him that had him instantly more awake. His hands grabbed fistfuls of the blankets across his legs in preparation for flinging them off in a hurry.
"Is everything all right? Has something happened?" he asked urgently.
Wilde's hands paused their tying, and he looked at Lowe as if he was a bit surprised he would ask such a thing.
"No, nothing has happened," he said calmly as he turned to face the bed, hands still holding the ends of the black tie. "Everything is just fine as far as I am aware, and I would be one of the first to know if it weren’t," he explained reasonably. He began retying his tie.
"Well then…why are you here, sir?" Lowe asked him. Why was the man acting like nothing was amiss?
"Here?" Wilde asked him in return, raising one brow.
Lowe felt even more confused now than ever.
"Yes, sir," Lowe replied with a tiny shrug of his shoulders and a slight dip of his head, as if he was indicating the room they were both occupying. "If there is no emergency, and you don't need me for something, then why are you here?" he elaborated.
He saw Wilde's expression change slightly, as if suddenly coming to some understanding, and the corner of his mouth turned up into a small smile as he gave a soft huff of amusement.
"Well, I'd hardly expect to be anywhere else as this is my cabin," he began as he turned back to the washbasin and mirror, checking the knot in his tie. "Will hasn't been able to wrest it from me yet," he added, the humor in his voice obvious.
"Your…?" Lowe trailed off as he finally got a good look at the cabin. It was more spacious than his, and the desk against the wall was a full sized one, not like his smaller one. Come to think of it, the desk was on the wrong wall. So was the wash basin for that matter…
Then it all suddenly came rushing back to him. Yesterday, the day of the seagull incident, Wilde being so very cross with him. Then him knocking on Lowe's cabin door when he had been about to slip under his covers for the night, and all but ordering Lowe to his cabin with the explanation that he was unable to fall asleep until he knew exactly where Lowe was and proof that he wasn't getting up into any more mischief! He recalled grabbing his pillow and blanket, and following Wilde to the Chief Officer's cabin, then getting into the bed with Wilde right behind him.
Lowe's face flushed pink with embarrassment over all the trouble he had caused Wilde. He ducked his head and let out a defeated sigh.
"I assumed you weren't a morning person, but now I am positive," Wilde chuckled as he reached down to pick up one of the shirt cuffs he had sitting on the washbasin. "Are you awake now, Harry?" he asked warmly.
Lowe simply groaned in response. He felt absolutely humiliated, though he wasn't entirely sure why. He had caused so much trouble yesterday that Wilde had been forced to wedge him into a corner of his own bloody bunk before he could get any sleep! He recalled the seagulls and the chaos that had followed, and he inwardly cringed again over all of it. He covered his face in his hands, giving it a good scrub while he was at it.
"No, I must still be caught in a nightmare," he said from behind his fingers, his voice muffled.
He heard Wilde laugh.
"Well, yesterday had been quite the fiasco, I give you that. But I'd hardly compare it to a nightmare," Wilde told him as he reached for his other cuff.
"Oh…the whole ship will be talking about it!" Lowe groaned again.
"Now that will be true enough," Wilde replied without sympathy. "I dare say by now your name is more known to the crew than Captain Smith’s!" he pointed out. "You can take a day off from mischief once and a while, you know," he added with a sternly raised eyebrow.
"I had just been feeding them…," Lowe said in disbelief as he dropped his hands and held them out, looking at them as if they personally had betrayed him and had caused the birds to go rabid.
"After I told you not to," Wilde pointed out, jabbing a finger in Lowe's direction, his half-buttoned cuff dangling. "But never mind that. We settled all that yesterday," he added, fiddling with his cuff.
Lowe flushed in embarrassment again at the reminder of exactly how they had settled it, but thankfully Wilde had turned back to the mirror to continue dressing. His seat had still been stinging when Wilde had come knocking on his door last night. But he had been so tired after all the running and yelling and scrubbing of bird droppings, that he hadn't really cared and had just wanted to get under the covers. That must be why he had been able to fall asleep in Wilde's cabin. He had done so before, but never with the other man in the bed with him. He must have been more tired than he had realized, to fall asleep so quickly and to sleep so soundly under such circumstances. Come to think of it, now that he was awake, he actually felt quite refreshed, like he had slept very well indeed. Thankfully his arse no longer stung, though his pride still bloody did. It didn't help matters either that he was sitting in the Chief Officer's cabin in only his pajamas
Lowe let out a defeated sigh.
"Yes, sir," he said dejectedly as he tossed the covers aside and swung his feet down to the carpet.
He ran a hand through his messy curls, then looked around for his dressing gown. It was about time he got out of bed and made his way back to his cabin to get dressed for the day. A quick glance at the clock on Wilde's mantel showed that it was half past six in the morning. Early enough that he might be able to avoid anyone in the hall and be first to the restroom. With that thought in mind, he made to push himself to his feet, but paused when he heard Wilde cluck his tongue at something. He looked up to see what had caused such a reaction, and he was surprised and just a tad bit dismayed, to see that it was apparently him.
Cuffs, collar, and tie in place, Wilde was looking at him in disapproval. He was shaking his head a little at the sight before him, and Lowe was immediately self-conscious. He looked down at himself but could see nothing amiss with his pajamas. All buttons were still secured, and there were no stains on the worn, but well-kept fabric. He looked back up at the older officer in confusion. What about him had drawn Wilde's scrutiny? Before his anxiety over the matter could grow further, Wilde revealed what had garnered his critical eye.
"Right, that's it," he began as he pointed a finger at Lowe. "I knew it was getting a bit long, but I had no idea it was that wild," he said as he gave one last shake of his head before turning to the settee against the wall and picking up his waistcoat.
Long? Wild? What was the man on about?
"Looks like we will be taking a trip down to the barber before breakfast," Wilde continued. Lowe watched as he slipped his arms into the holes of his waistcoat and shrugged it over his shoulders. "Mister Weikman should be there at this hour, though probably not too happy about it. The man appears to be just as averse to mornings as you are," Wilde teased as he began to button his waistcoat.
"The barber, sir…?" Lowe said questioningly before his brain finally caught up with all Wilde had said. Long, wild, barber…
A hand went back to his curls and tried to flatten what it could.
"Oh, no…that isn't necessary, sir." Lowe huffed a bit self-consciously, still smoothing down what he could. "I'm afraid it always looks like this when I first wake up. It will look much more tame once I wet it down and run a comb through it," he explained, standing up from the bed.
Well, not always. Only when it got a bit long, which Lowe was truthful enough to admit he had let happen. While he did prefer to keep himself neat and tidy, he had already spent quite a sum of his dwindling savings to purchase his kit for his stint as Fifth Officer, and he had been very reluctant to take anymore from his already modest coffers. Besides, a tin of pomade and some judicious combing and tucking under his cap kept it under control.
Mostly.
"I very much doubt you can run a comb through all that," Wilde countered. He buttoned his last button and pulled at the ends of his waistcoat, setting it in its proper place on his large frame. "Especially as unruly as it appears now," he added.
His tone was matter of fact and lacked any type of real censure or mockery, like he was simply stating what he observed.
"Really, sir, it is simply because I have yet the chance to tame it," Lowe insisted.
"The very fact that you need to tame it is proof enough you've let it go wild too long, lad," Wilde pointed out. He walked past Lowe and to the corner of the cabin where a coat rack stood. He reached up and pulled Lowe's dressing gown off it and stepped back to him. He held the garment out to him. "While I am sure such a look would be appealing to some, you are an officer of the White Star Line, and you will hold yourself to their standards."
Lowe took the garment from Wilde's hands but held it in front of him in lieu of putting it on.
"But I do, sir," Lowe defended himself. "No one has noticed anything. Even Captain Smith hasn't…"
"I've noticed," Wilde interrupted him. He raised an eyebrow at him as he attached his pocket watch chin to his waistcoat. "Now stop all this arguing. It has been decided. Put your dressing gown on and get yourself ready. We don't have a lot of spare time to get this done," Wilde announced with a note of finality.
"I…ah…yes, sir," Lowe finally said.
He wanted to argue more, though he wasn't sure why as Wilde was not in the wrong to suggest that he might need a trim, but the urge was there anyway. Thankfully, he recalled how cross Wilde had been with him just the day before, and his good senses finally kicked him in the seat of his trousers before Wilde could.
"Good, lad. Now hurry up with you," Wilde said cheerfully as he made shooing gestures with his hands towards Lowe.
"Oh, yes…," Lowe replied awkwardly. He clumsily shrugged into his dressing gown and tied the belt around his waist. He looked around the floor for his slippers.
"By the door, lad" He heard Wilde say.
Wondering how Wilde always seemed to know what he was thinking, Lowe quickly walked over to the door to find his slippers placed neatly to the side of it. He slipped his feet into them and reached for the door handle, but paused when a thought occurred to him. He turned away from the door.
"Oh! I've forgotten my things," he said, gesturing towards Wilde's bed that held an additional pillow and blanket.
"Just leave them for now, Harry. You can retrieve them later. Did I not say to hurry along?" Wilde asked him as he sat down on his settee to put on his own shoes.
"Well, if you are sure," Lowe answered uncertainly, not wanting to leave Wilde's cabin untidy with his own bedding. "I guess I shall see myself out then," he tacked on, a bit embarrassed but not entirely sure as to why.
"Don't dawdle, lad. I will be waiting for you here. Knock on my door when you are ready and we will go down together," Wilde told him, ending his sentence with a soft grunt as he leaned over to pull on a leather shoe.
"Yes, Mister Wilde," Lowe replied respectfully.
Without further delay, Lowe opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.
He politely closed the door behind him, hearing the latch click softly into place in the quiet hallway, but that tiny sound only emphasized how quiet it was. Lowe immediately looked up and down the hall to see if he had attracted the attention of another officer. He wasn't concerned about them spotting him in the hallway in his pajamas and dressing gown, as that was a common enough occurrence onboard with officers coming and going to the lavatory for baths and the like. But based on the way Wilde had reacted to his hair this morning, Lowe was rather keen on not letting anyone else see it in such a state at the moment. All he needed now was for Murdoch, or Moody, or pretty much any other officer to see him and go off on his hair. Anyone but Pitman that is, who probably wouldn't even notice Lowe was in his dressing gown, let alone the state of his hair.
With that thought, Lowe had a new urgency in his step as he made his way back down the hall past the other officers' cabins, mentally cursing the fact that most of them were lodged on the port side. Why couldn't he have had the lone officer cabin on the starboard side, the one Boxhall occupied? It would make going and coming so much easier, especially if he wished to not be noticed.
He kept his steps light against the red and white patterned linoleum, taking care not to make any unnecessary sound. He decided it would be best to use the lavatory first, then make his escape into his cabin. Just his bloody luck the lavatory was located aft of all the cabins. Lowe passed the side hall that led to his and Moody's cabin, and just a little past Moody's cabin to the lavatory on the left. He opened this door just as quietly, not daring to knock. He poked his head in, giving the space a quick survey, thankful when his search turned up no one. He quickly stepped inside and closed the door behind him but did not lock it.
There really was no need to lock this particular door, as the officers' lavatory was split into essentially three rooms, four if you counted the large closet they stored their oil skins in. There was the large, central room that one would enter first, that contained a large sink encased in marble with a mirror on the aft wall, and a single stall urinal to the left of it. The room against the starboard wall housed the rolled edge enameled bathtub they all shared, and the small room on the port wall contained the water closet. It was a rather thoughtful design as it meant that no officer would be denied the water closet if another was in the bath, or vice versa, nor the sink or urinal, and access to the oilskins was available to all no matter how the lavatory was in use. A much better set up than vessels of the past where one would simply go to the rail to relieve himself and pray the wind didn't suddenly change on him.
Lowe made his way to the water closet, a small space that lived up to its name admirably, and conducted his business with careful haste, opting for the privacy of the small room in his self-conscious state. When he finished, he made his way back into the larger room and over to the sink. He turned on the tap, keeping his eyes down and focused as he washed his hands, his nose wrinkling at the scent of rose and lemon. But the urge to look into the mirror was strong, too strong for Lowe to resist, and as he turned off the tap, he looked up.
Oh dear…
His hair was a frightful mess! It wasn't something he hadn't seen before in his own small mirror in his cabin, but he never really gave it much thought before. But now he was using his imagination to see it through Wilde's eyes, and he could now see why Wilde was so insistent he take a trip to the barber. It immediately soured his mood.
"Bloody curls," he cursed lowly as he dried his hands on the small towel beside the sink.
If only Wilde hadn't seen it like this. If only Lowe had been able to do what he normally did before leaving his cabin. He could have tamed this riot of curls. He could have wet it thoroughly, wrested his comb through it, and slicked it down with a liberal dollop of pomade, then hide it all under his officer's cap. No one would have been none the wiser, just like they had been since he boarded this ship. Even when he had taken his hat off at meals, his efforts from the morning as well as compression from his hat kept everything where it should be. It had been getting a tad bit long; he had already admitted to himself, and he had seen Wilde eyeing it at those same meals, but he hadn't said anything about it.
Not until this morning when Lowe had woken up in Wilde's bloody cabin because his Chief Officer couldn’t fall asleep without knowing where his troublesome Fifth Officer was.
Lowe's reflection turned pink, and he looked away.
"Bloody seagulls…," he added for good measure as he turned and made his way back to the hallway entrance. "I am never feeding those flying rats again," he mumbled as he pulled the door open. "Probably…"
He leaned out, pleased to see the hallway was still empty, and quickly stepped out, closing the door behind him. It was only a few steps back to the branching hall and his cabin door, but Lowe was positive Moody's door would open any second and the Sixth Officer would be ready to bombarde him with a plethora of comments on the state of his hair, a ridiculous smile on his equally ridiculous cherubic face. If he was being unfair to the other man's character, Lowe did not care. In the heightened awareness of his state and his keen embarrassment over it, he was positive everyone would have something to say about it!
But Moody's door remained closed, and Lowe slipped past and into his without incident. He let out a sigh as he set the latch home, locking the door behind him. He looked over to his bed and immediately registered the lack of pillow and blanket. His shoulders slumped as he stared at his unslept in bed, and his mind reminded him of why that was.
"No," he firmly told himself. "I am not going to dwell on that," he affirmed, straightening up and all but flinging his dressing gown off his shoulders. "Just get yourself ready and prove to Mister Wilde that you don't need a haircut," he demanded.
He wasn't sure where this new idea came from or the determination that came with it, but Lowe liked it nonetheless and grabbed onto it with both hands.
"He doesn't know what he's talking about. I'll show him," he muttered as he flung his dressing gown over the end of the bed and made his way to his wardrobe. "He's always on me about something or another. Why does he care so bloody much? Even the Captain hasn't said anything!"
He flung open his wardrobe a little harder than necessary.
"I've seen it…," Lowe imitated, deepening his tone, wobbling his head from side to side in a mocking way, and taking on Wilde's manner of speaking. "Bah," he spat as he pulled a shirt off its hook. "So what if he has? That wasn't my fault. He is the one who made me go to his cabin because he couldn't sleep. It's his own fault that he saw my hair before I could fix it. Well, I will fix it now and he will see."
Lowe pulled out the rest of his uniform, dumping all the articles of clothing onto his bed, and began unbuttoning his pajama top.
"And why must it be the ship's barber?" Lowe continued his one-sided rant. "Does the man think I'm made of money? I'm the bloody Fifth Officer, not the Captain," he grumbled sourly as he shrugged his pajama top off. "I've already had to shell out for Moody's bloody cap. Who has money for a fancy barber after that?"
It was a sticking point with him, but not one he wanted to bring up in front of Wilde. One simply didn't talk about one's finances, or lack thereof in polite society. He wasn't exactly a pauper, but he wasn't flush with wealth either. He had spent a good deal on his kit for Titanic, including his uniform, and the rooms he had been lodging in before his commission had taken most of the rest, even though they had been in a rather less affluent part of town, to put it mildly. What he did have left, he did not fancy spending on something so trivial as a barber, especially when he could get by without one.
"Next he will be telling me I need new shoes, or jacket, shirt, tie…"
Lowe kicked off his pajama trousers and reached for his clean trunks and vest, slipping them on with practiced ease.
"…or new bloody underwear!" he growled as he buttoned his into place. "The only piece of clothing I actually may need to replace is my bloody trousers! The way that man is determined to wear them thin…"
Lowe picked up his uniform trousers then and turned them over to look at the seat, his hands feeling the fabric, just in case.
Frustrated with himself for such a foolish thought, Lowe continued his dressing in stubborn silence. He had gotten himself all out of sorts, and he didn't know how to undo it. And all after he had slept so well, something he hadn't expected. But that thought reminded him yet again of where he spent the night, and it only added more fuel to his frustration. He was building up quite a list of grievances, and he was starting to believe them.
"Why doesn't he just focus on his bloody duties instead of me?" Lowe mumbled as he sat down on his bed to put on his socks and shoes. He loosened the leather upper to shove a socked foot in. "There are five other officers, hundreds and hundreds of crew members, yet he's got his eye always on me. What about Pitman? That man is as observant as a rock, yet Wilde doesn't follow him around!"
Never mind the fact Wilde didn't follow him around either, but he wasn't about to let facts get in the way of a perfectly splendid rant.
"Stop dawdling, stop antagonizing Mister Moody, don't go into the kitchens, clean your plate, don't feed the seagulls, straighten your tie, don't fight with pirates…," Lowe rattled off, once again imitating Wilde as he tied his shoelaces. "I'm surprised the man doesn't stand outside the bloody door when I'm taking a piss. He'd probably think I'd drown myself somehow," Lowe complained as he shoved his other foot into his shoe. "I am a capable seaman and officer! I don't need to be looked after like some…some…"
His mind blanked on the right word, so he delved into cursing in Welsh instead. And he didn't hold back. He used every naughty word he knew and then some, taking great pleasure in imagining that he was saying them to Wilde. Of course he wouldn't, not if he wished to live to see another day, but still. It felt good.
When he had finally run out of steam, he felt much better.
He also felt emboldened.
"I'm going to march in there and tell him I am not going to the barber's," he said to his reflection in the mirror. He placed a towel around his neck and leaned over to wet his hands in the basin. "I will show him that my hair looks just fine and meets with White Star’s standards," he added as he ran those same wet hands through his curls, dampening them.
He took his time taming his curls this morning even though he was on a time limit. Wilde was expecting him back in his cabin. But if Lowe was to argue that he did not need to see the barber (which was his intent), then he had best come with his hair neatly made and controlled. He would offer proof to his claim, and Wilde would surely see that he had been hasty in his evaluation of Lowe's person, and that Lowe indeed was perfectly presentable just as he was. At least until he got paid again at the end of the month and could actually afford to go to a barber, preferably one of his choosing.
He added more and more water, then ran his comb through his hair. It was a bit difficult at first, with the tines of the comb battling with stubborn knots and the overall thickness of his locks, but in the end, Lowe persevered. With his curls slicked back as much as any curls could be, he set his comb down and picked up his tin of pomade. It was a subtle, yet clean smelling brand that did not leave his hair greasy, but shiny and healthy looking, and still held it mostly in place. It absorbed rather quickly into his hair, freeing him from having to worry about unsightly oil stains on the inside of his cap. It had enough of that as it was, what with the boot blacking he had put on it.
Lowe finished and looked at himself in the mirror.
"Much better!" he smiled.
His hair was less curly and more wavy now, the hair shiny and wet looking against his head. But most importantly, it looked very tame indeed. Lowe quickly finished with the rest of his toilet, brushing his teeth and washing his face, grateful he didn't have to shave every day, and tidied up the little wash basin. He checked his tie and collar in the mirror, ran a hand over his hair one last time, and grinned to himself. He walked over to the hook on the wall that held his cap and jacket. He placed the cap onto his head carelessly for now and shrugged into his jacket. Once all the buttons were done up, he walked back over to his mirror and fixed his cap onto his head properly. He tucked in every stray lock he could find and ran a finger just under the brim to catch any he didn't see. With that done, Lowe thought he looked rather dapper indeed! CerAtainly dapper enough for his Chief Officer.
"Let's see what he has to say now," Lowe said to himself as he straightened up and adjusted his tie once more.
With one last look at the mirror, Lowe turned his back on it and made his way to the door.