Fandomweekly Challenge 96 - Lifetime achievement

[m_findlow]

Title: Lifetime achievement
Fandom: Original
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,000 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for Challenge 96 - Centre of attention at fandomweekly
Summary: Kensley couldn't be happier that his husband's hard work is finally being recognised. He only wishes he didn't have to share the limelight.


Kensley felt out of place. He needed something to nurse in his hand so he didn't look so adrift, but all he saw were platters of champagne flutes drifting around on the assured hands of wait staff. He hadn't touched a drop of alcohol in nearly twenty years, unable to without a severe allergic reaction. He envied his partner Scott that one vice, clutching his own untouched glass and looking positively resplendent in his tuxedo. His husband had one of those faces that didn't age, or simply improved over time. He looked as gorgeous at forty five as he had at twenty five. And now he was about to receive the greatest accolade of his life. Kensley couldn't have been prouder.

He shuffled a little closer to his husband, hoping to meld into obscurity as the gaggle of guests queued to rub shoulders with the man who'd been no one two weeks ago. Fame was a strange beast.

Kensley could make hours of small talk with political leaders, but he felt hopelessly out of his depth surrounded by a room full of the best and brightest minds humanity had to offer. He didn't think he could discuss, or even follow, half of the grand ideas they had. He struggled some days to understand the things his husband talked about, but unlike these people here tonight, Scott would have patiently explained it time and time again, always trying to boil it down into simpler, more understandable chunks, until finally Kensley could grasp the concept. His endless patience and skill had made him so good at what he did.

'Excuse me?' came a voice. 'Ashleigh Abercrombie. I'm with the Global Chronicler. You wouldn't mind sparing a few minutes for me? Not every day you get to interview the International Humanitarian of the Year.'

'Of course.' Scott was too polite to say no, and too kind to even consider it.

There'd been photos earlier in the evening, enough to fill Time Magazine's next issue, and try as Kensley might to stay out of them, Scott was having none of it. He kept Kensley close throughout, forcing him to smile for the media as one half of an impressive power couple. And Kensley smiled for the cameras because Scott held him close and because he loved him and didn't want to ruin the moment with petty reluctance. Scott blazed with quiet, understated confidence and charm that made the media take an immediate liking to their latest assignment. There'd be a speech and more photos later once Scott held the crystal award in his hands.

Scott had begged Kensley to write the speech for him, suddenly all nervous and worried once he'd digested the letter telling him the news. 'You're the wordsmith,' he'd argued.

He'd written hundreds of presentations and keynote remarks, it was true, but he didn't want to write this one. He knew if he did, it would be trite and full of politi-speak, stating that the planet stood on a knife's edge and that humanity was reaching out to do the noble thing of easing its burdensome footprint on the earth that had nurtured its life for billions of years. It wasn't about any of that, not really. This was Scott's moment to finally receive his reward for the brilliance of his mind and what it had created. It needed only to be a simple acceptance speech, humble and understated without any flourish and pomp.

Kensley couldn't do it. He couldn't praise his husband's work without wanting to underscore just how brilliant he was, how hard he'd worked and how much he deserved all of it. Scott hadn't been happy about it, but what he'd come up with, always still seeking Kensley's approval and input, was just what it should be. He hadn't needed a master speech writer, it just needed to be something from the heart.

'Firstly, how did you feel when you were told you'd be receiving this award? Were you surprised?'

'I think my husband can attest to that,' Scott replied. 'We've scarcely been home these past eighteen months. We open our backlog of mail in taxis on the way to the airport mostly, which was how we found out.'

'We've just been granted exclusive access to a tour of a replica station like the one currently being built up in space. It's impressive. Unlike anything we've ever seen. You designed all of it?'

'Conceptually, yes, though there were many specialists engaged to assist with technical build aspects. And a lot of years to bring it to a point where the planet's governments could agree to it.'

'How does one explain such a thing to the world's leaders?' he asked.

Scott pulled Kensley closer and he felt a wave of anxiety. 'My husband is to thank for that. He's the political mastermind and key negotiator in making it all more than just a drawing on a page. It's as much his life's work as mine.'

The journalist hummed in agreement and turned his head towards Kensley. 'Yes, I remember reading that 2258 submission you made to the United Nations. Gripping stuff. A real eye opener for many nations, some would no doubt say.'

Kensley tried to brush off the remark. The 2258 Global Call to Arms Summit was ancient history and he'd been nothing more than a plucky late twenties idealist, high on the fumes of love and wanting to impress his beau more than anything else. 'I just state facts,' he replied. 'Scott draws it all out in crayons until I say "yes, I get it", and then we know politicians will understand it.'

Everyone gave one of those falsely amused chuckles at the self-deprecating comment.

'Well, thank you for your time, Mr Appleby. And congratulations on your award. Break a leg up there.'

Scott and Kensley both shook hands with the reporter and he left them.

'Please don't, darling,' Kensley implored.

'Don't what?'

'Break a leg.'

Scott smiled and squeezed his hand. 'I'll be careful, I promise.'