feelers-for-jeans-and-atshirt:

iamthefirechild:

feelers-for-jeans-and-atshirt:

iamthefirechild:

Summer shrugged. “‘m used to it. But what will you now, Tom? You’ve broken my poor heart with your sonnets.”

“What will I now? Ah, I really don’t know..” He smiled apologetically. “Have I? I’m sorry, darling!” Tom said, “Then, what can I make it up to you?”

She shook her head. “I was promised to watch your movie, wasn’t I? It’s all very well to have you recite glorious bloodstirring bits, but I want to see!”

Tom nodded, off to show her by flipping through the channels to reach one that showed it. Fortunately to be able to catch the beginnings of the show, he explained to her the place it was, it wasn’t from the ‘very beginning’ or so to say. He turned to the TV, respectively to quiet down as it started.

It only took a short time for the flow of the language to pull Summer in, and she sat forward, hands clasped, smiling and laughing. “Darlin’, if you are not yet famous, you’ll be so very soon. This is amazing,” she told Tom, while the play-within-a-play passed onscreen.

feelers-for-jeans-and-atshirt:

iamthefirechild:

“Oh, that /is/ a cheat! Using my own name against my heart. Cruel, cruel, Tom. I’m sorry I asked, now.” Her laughter gave the lie to her words, and she tugged on the leg of his jeans. “Sit down, my neck hurts looking up at you.”

Tom smiled, glancing back down as he tugged at the hem of his jeans. “Oh! Sorry about that!” He replied, moving off to sit down where he was previously, beside her. And with that, his speech turned back to more modern of English.

Summer shrugged. “‘m used to it. But what will you now, Tom? You’ve broken my poor heart with your sonnets.”

feelers-for-jeans-and-atshirt:

iamthefirechild:

feelers-for-jeans-and-atshirt:

iamthefirechild:

“Tell me some of the lines,” Summer asked, smiling a little bit. “I bet Shakespeare sounds fantastic rolling off your tongue, in that accent.”

“Ah, I’m sorry, I’m going to have to stand for that..” He smiled, putting the half full glass of water on the side. He looked prepared to act, just as if there was a camera only a few feet from him.

“Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there’s nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour’d rage;
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest English.
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call’d fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game’s afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry ‘God for Harry, England, and Saint George!’” He called, almost breathless of the words, his lips curling to a satisfied smile as he finished, trying his best to put every emphasized word to push out of his lungs like the last.

[I’m not sure of some of these words are right, I listened to the clip and typed it down ^_^;;]

[Let’s just make google do the work for us!]

Summer gaped up at him, eyes sparkling. “Dear gods and little fishes, Tom! That was /glorious/. You amazing man, you.” She grinned, half laughing. “Hast aught else to please mine ears with, good lord?” She clasped her hands together, looking up, but couldn’t stop grinning.

Tom chuckled, nodding a thank you. “I thank thee well, sweet Summer. Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” He started a poem he had known by heart, once even to narrate the sonnet. “Stories only so great, I know not, the slip of mine tongue to keep at my mouth as guard..” He went off, as if he knew old English since his youth.

“Oh, that /is/ a cheat! Using my own name against my heart. Cruel, cruel, Tom. I’m sorry I asked, now.” Her laughter gave the lie to her words, and she tugged on the leg of his jeans. “Sit down, my neck hurts looking up at you.”

feelers-for-jeans-and-atshirt:

iamthefirechild:

“Tell me some of the lines,” Summer asked, smiling a little bit. “I bet Shakespeare sounds fantastic rolling off your tongue, in that accent.”

“Ah, I’m sorry, I’m going to have to stand for that..” He smiled, putting the half full glass of water on the side. He looked prepared to act, just as if there was a camera only a few feet from him.

“Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there’s nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour’d rage;
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest English.
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call’d fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game’s afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry ‘God for Harry, England, and Saint George!’” He called, almost breathless of the words, his lips curling to a satisfied smile as he finished, trying his best to put every emphasized word to push out of his lungs like the last.

[I’m not sure of some of these words are right, I listened to the clip and typed it down ^_^;;]

[Let’s just make google do the work for us!]

Summer gaped up at him, eyes sparkling. “Dear gods and little fishes, Tom! That was /glorious/. You amazing man, you.” She grinned, half laughing. “Hast aught else to please mine ears with, good lord?” She clasped her hands together, looking up, but couldn’t stop grinning.

feelers-for-jeans-and-atshirt:

iamthefirechild:

“I’ve got a leather-bound complete edition over there anchoring my bookshelves. I’ll admit those aren’t what I read the most, but it’s lovely to have on hand when I’m watching one.” She poked him in the side, gently. “So what was it like filming as Prince Hal?”

“Oh wow, that’s really cool..although I stick with the books..” He smiled, laughing a bit as she poked him. “Filming as Prince Hal, huh? Well, it really is interesting to be filming in a different time period, I really had to look up some stuff for that..” Tom nodded, his eyes flickering. “And some days it just naturally comes to you..what to say and what to do; all that..”

“Tell me some of the lines,” Summer asked, smiling a little bit. “I bet Shakespeare sounds fantastic rolling off your tongue, in that accent.”

feelers-for-jeans-and-atshirt:

iamthefirechild:

feelers-for-jeans-and-atshirt:

iamthefirechild:

“That’s their job,”she grinned back. “Somebody’s got to do it. So, Shakespeare?” She offered one glass to Tom, gesturing with the other to the pile of pillows on the floor.

“Shakespeare! What have you read?” Tom smiled, wording a small thank you as he took the glass in his hands. He looked over to the pile of pillows he was gestured to, he looked back to her as if to ask if he were to sit there.

Summer sprawled across half the pillows and patted the space beside her. “Come on, I don’t bite unless asked. Let me see … Romeo and Juliet, of course. Midsummer Night’s, Much Ado, several of the history plays, Macbeth, Measure for Measure … I love Kenneth Branagh’s movie version of Much Ado.” 

Tom nodded, sitting next to her, turning to listen to what she had to say. “Oh, I really loved those books, I could only come to read them over..” He grinned, recalling that he had kept them in his study for a rather long time.

“I’ve got a leather-bound complete edition over there anchoring my bookshelves. I’ll admit those aren’t what I read the most, but it’s lovely to have on hand when I’m watching one.” She poked him in the side, gently. “So what was it like filming as Prince Hal?”

feelers-for-jeans-and-atshirt:

iamthefirechild:

“That’s their job,”she grinned back. “Somebody’s got to do it. So, Shakespeare?” She offered one glass to Tom, gesturing with the other to the pile of pillows on the floor.

“Shakespeare! What have you read?” Tom smiled, wording a small thank you as he took the glass in his hands. He looked over to the pile of pillows he was gestured to, he looked back to her as if to ask if he were to sit there.

Summer sprawled across half the pillows and patted the space beside her. “Come on, I don’t bite unless asked. Let me see … Romeo and Juliet, of course. Midsummer Night’s, Much Ado, several of the history plays, Macbeth, Measure for Measure … I love Kenneth Branagh’s movie version of Much Ado.” 

feelers-for-jeans-and-atshirt:

iamthefirechild:

feelers-for-jeans-and-atshirt:

iamthefirechild:

“Your standards must be soooo different from mine. Kay. Um. The remote is in the round chair, ask if you need any help, do you want anything to drink?” Summer paused in the hallway, looking back at Tom. “I’ve got soda, fruit juice, a little wine, water … no beer, but there’s cider.”

Tom smiled lightly to her, “Ah, water would be just fine..” He nodded, thanking Summer right after.

“‘scuse me for a sec,” she called down the hall. “Someone seems to think they’re starving to death!” There was a rattle of small objects, quickly followed by the thunder of four-footed animals. A dark, tiny cat flashed past Tom in a blur.

Summer returned, bearing a glass in both hands. “That should keep them busy for a bit.”

Tom moved aside as the little cat ran past him, chuckling as they all thundered across the room to Summer. “Your cats are certainly cute..” He laughed, watching them.

“That’s their job,”she grinned back. “Somebody’s got to do it. So, Shakespeare?” She offered one glass to Tom, gesturing with the other to the pile of pillows on the floor.

feelers-for-jeans-and-atshirt:

iamthefirechild:

“Your standards must be soooo different from mine. Kay. Um. The remote is in the round chair, ask if you need any help, do you want anything to drink?” Summer paused in the hallway, looking back at Tom. “I’ve got soda, fruit juice, a little wine, water … no beer, but there’s cider.”

Tom smiled lightly to her, “Ah, water would be just fine..” He nodded, thanking Summer right after.

“‘scuse me for a sec,” she called down the hall. “Someone seems to think they’re starving to death!” There was a rattle of small objects, quickly followed by the thunder of four-footed animals. A dark, tiny cat flashed past Tom in a blur.

Summer returned, bearing a glass in both hands. “That should keep them busy for a bit.”