Raju starts to consider it, hand at Francis’ hairline running down along it, fingertips leaving trails of water over his skin. Then he realises that he’s smiling, that the smile feels soft, and that he doesn’t have to consider anything. His hand moves to Francis’ forehead, palm settling across it and not pushing, but moving it in a very cautious way that suggests that, if the side of Francis’ face wasn’t so injured now, he would be. It’s time to rinse the soap away, and he wants to see Francis’ face better anyway, and wants Francis to see his.
“Then it’s too bad you wouldn’t ask,” he murmurs, voice very warm. Almost impossible to remember what he’d been feeling just a moment ago, explaining what he’d thought would be Francis’ last words, not unless he tries to. Not after hearing those words in that voice. He’s been wanting for so long, even when he didn’t know what the feeling was. Now Francis is here, healing, and he wants to kiss him. “Because I think I’d quite like that, too.”
His eyes dart between his hands, one pouring small handfuls of water over the soap in Francis’ hair while the other makes itself into a wall to keep any from going into Francis’ eyes, and Francis’ face, trying to catch his gaze before letting his smile sharpen, amused at his own teasing and happy, the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkling.
The handful of water’s been poured and gone to the places that it should so Raju moves his hand back down, curling its fingers to trace the shape of Francis’ upper lip as he holds his smile on Francis’ gaze, for as long as Francis will let him.
no subject
“Then it’s too bad you wouldn’t ask,” he murmurs, voice very warm. Almost impossible to remember what he’d been feeling just a moment ago, explaining what he’d thought would be Francis’ last words, not unless he tries to. Not after hearing those words in that voice. He’s been wanting for so long, even when he didn’t know what the feeling was. Now Francis is here, healing, and he wants to kiss him. “Because I think I’d quite like that, too.”
His eyes dart between his hands, one pouring small handfuls of water over the soap in Francis’ hair while the other makes itself into a wall to keep any from going into Francis’ eyes, and Francis’ face, trying to catch his gaze before letting his smile sharpen, amused at his own teasing and happy, the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkling.
The handful of water’s been poured and gone to the places that it should so Raju moves his hand back down, curling its fingers to trace the shape of Francis’ upper lip as he holds his smile on Francis’ gaze, for as long as Francis will let him.