Scratch my Head, Please
A/N: I'm so happy you liked the first request you sent in and I really hope you enjoy this one too!! It got away from me a bit!
You knew that marrying the Viscount Bridgerton was never going to be easy, you knew that you would have duties to perform as Viscountess, but you never thought you would have more trouble with your husband. You and Anthony got along fine, you could both keep a conversation going with each other when you sat down to dine together but he would never stay longer than he had to, preferring to lock himself away in his office.
This, however, didn’t stop you from trying to get close to your husband whenever you could. When you would meet in the dining hall every morning and evening, you would give him a peck on the cheek, feeling him stiffen underneath your touch despite leaning his lead in to allow you the brief moment of affection. Even at night, while you were both basking in the afterglow, you would simply rest your hand on his bare chest or run your fingers through his hair and Anthony would roll out of bed, heading to his own bed chambers.
It was about seven months into your marriage with the Viscount when you gave up trying to show him any affection. You were both sitting in the dining room, your chairs closer together than what was deemed normal after Anthony had gotten fed up of raise his voice just so you could hear him. You were suggesting that the two of you go for a walk that afternoon while the nice weather stuck around and that it would be good for the two of you to get some fresh air when he snapped.
‘Stop,’ he said quietly, still looking down at whatever document he had brought to the table that morning.
‘Pardon?’ you asked, not hearing him properly.
‘I said stop.’ He repeated bluntly. ‘For months now you’ve gone out of your way to try and loiter around me and try to get me to go places with you where I have absolutely no intention of going. You have access to every room in this house, use them.’
‘Did it ever occur to you that I didn’t want this match to happen? That I didn’t have a choice in this marriage? (Y/N), we we’re married in order to continue the Bridgerton name and, as far as I’m concerned, that’s it.’ He said harshly, looking at you as he finished his sentence. You sat in silence for a while as you tried to process his outburst before you stood from the table.
‘Very well,’ you said in a dangerously calm tone. ‘I’m going to get ready and I shall see you tonight, my Lord.’ You said before walking out of the room, carrying on all the way to your room and only when your door was shut did you let your tears fall. That was when you decided that you were no longer going to waste your efforts on Anthony Bridgerton.
You hadn’t spoken to Anthony for about a month aside from formal greetings; and even that was only when you absolutely had to. The first time Anthony realised that things had changed and that you were acting differently towards him was when you were in bed together. It wasn’t awkward during the act, it was usually quiet between the two of you which was Anthony’s way of putting a barrier up but when you were lying next to each other afterwards, Anthony couldn’t help the small frown that etched its way onto his brow when he didn’t feel the light weight of your hand on his chest or your fingers lightly scratching his head in the way that made his eyes grow heavy. When he turned towards you, we was met with the sight of your bare back as you wrapped a spare sheet around your body and gathered your things to leave the room without saying a word.
It was after this incident that Anthony started to notice your lack of affection more and more; you no longer knocked on his office door to check that he was okay and didn’t need anything, you no longer kissed his cheek when you met each other for dinner and you no longer sat close to him at the table, instead having the Help move your chair back to the opposite head of the table. Anthony hadn’t realised how much he was missing these simple interactions with you until one day when he was sitting behind his desk in his office and he realised that he had reread the same sentence about twenty times. Upon realising this, he slammed the book shut on the desk which made such a loud sound, one of the maids poked her head through the door.
‘Is everything okay, Lord Bridgerton?’
‘Yes, everything’s fine,’ he replied, quickly continuing when he saw the maid make to close the door again. ‘Have you seen my wife today? Do you know where she is at the moment?’
‘She’s in the library, my Lord, she has been since this morning.’
‘Thank you, that will be all,’ he said, giving the maid a tight smile. When the door clicked shut again, Anthony sat in silence, running his hand through his hair (wishing more than anything that it was your hand) before he quickly stood and made his way out of his office, heading towards the library before he had the chance to turn around.
As soon as he set foot in the library, he saw the toes of your shoes peeking out from one of the alcoves you had tucked yourself into. He made his way over to the bench you were curled up on and sat down next to you, leaving a bit of a gap between you; you didn’t even look up from your book when he cleared his throat in the hopes of getting your attention.
Giving up with trying to get your attention vocally, Anthony awkwardly moved until he was lying on his back with his head resting gently in your lap. Little did he know was that you had been acutely aware of his every movement from the moment he stepped into the library and you hadn’t turned a single page since he arrived; it was taking everything you had to not laugh at him trying to get your attention not unlike the way a cat would.
‘Can I help you, my Lord?’ you questioned, smiling lightly.
‘Anthony,’ he mumbled, staring at the ceiling instead of looking at you.
‘I don’t like you using my title, I prefer when you call me Anthony.’
‘Very well. Can I help you, Anthony?’
‘I was just wondering if you could scratchmyhead.’ He said, the words coming out as one.
‘I’m sorry, what was that?’
‘Can you scratch my head. Please.’
‘And why would I do that after the things you said to me last time we had a conversation?’
Anthony closed his eyes tightly and swallowed the tight lump that had worked its way into his throat. He hadn’t factored in the fact that you would still be mad at him for the comments he had made. However, seeing the look on his face, you knew that he was struggling with asking you for this favour so you slid your fingers through his hair and started scratching lightly, smiling fondly when you felt him completely relax against you, his breath coming out in a content sigh.
‘I’m sorry,’ you heard him whisper quietly, eyes still closed and face the picture of relaxation.
‘What for?’ You asked, closing your book with your free hand and setting it to the side so you could bring your other hand to rest on his cheek, tracing his cheekbone with your thumb.
‘I’m sorry for saying those horrible things to you, they weren’t true, not in the slightest,’ he said, opening his eyes to look at you but other than that, not moving at all. ‘I always told myself that I would never marry for love because I saw how broken my mother was after losing my father and I never wanted to do that to the woman I loved. So when, after seeing the way we would interact with each other and dance at the balls, my mother suggested that I propose to you, it was both everything I wanted and everything I dreaded all at once because I could never do that to you. That’s why I was trying to put barriers up between us so that if anything were to happen to me, you wouldn’t be as broken as my mother was.’
You had been silent for the whole time Anthony had spoken and it was only when you took a breath after he had finished that you realised you had tears streaming down your face. ‘Anthony, that’s one of the most beautiful things about life, loving someone so much that you can’t bear the thought of leaving them alone in the world after you’re gone. And believe it or not, I’d be broken if something happened to you even if what you said had been the last thing you ever said to me.’
‘I love you,’ he said, voice thick with emotion as he took the hand that was resting against his cheek in his hand and held it against his lips.
‘I love you too,’ you replied, laughing lightly when you saw his eyes light up at your words. He then made himself more comfortable with his head still in your lap as he got ready to spend the rest of the afternoon in your arms.
‘In that case,’ he began with a lazy but slightly cocky smile on his face, eyes closed once again, ‘as you were, darling wife.’
‘Of course, my Lord,’ you said, fighting the giggle rising in your throat as your fingers resumed scratching his head.
