goingtobeunwell

Raju watches him, appreciative even without Francis making it a show, watchful of any of the signs of pain he's become too familiar with. But Raju, at least, can leave and do other things when he needs to escape the reminder of what'd almost happened. Francis can't.

Time passes, and Francis continues to handle the whole thing fairly well, considering. Maybe because things do change, even if too slowly - The bruises change colour and continue to fade. Francis moves a little more quickly, a little more easily. Raju finds himself imagining what Francis looks like under his clothes, and remembers the way he'd disregarded those kinds of thoughts before without so much as a decision about what they were, and doesn't know what that says about him, or whether he needs to do something about it.

But Francis is here, and Raju knows now how he feels about the man and what he wants with him, more or less. Not all of it has to do with sex.

Francis' hair gleams in the sunlight coming from the window. The sight of it is beautiful, in the way it's always beautiful, and picks out every individual uneven strand in a bright halo of light. It's been growing untamed long enough that the texture is starting to change, frizzy and dry in a way that might suit other men perfectly well but the man who in all other ways Raju looks at with desire stirring inside him...

"You said I could trim your beard a couple weeks ago," Raju says after a minute or two of steady staring, from his place leaning against the wall. "Do you remember? Do you still mean it?"

Crozier’s been deep in thought, mostly pondering the finer points of possibly constructing a fish weir in the thawing river. If successful they wouldn’t have to worry about food - if successful no one in Milton would have to worry about food. He’s still troubled by the thought of putting effort into a community that would turn against them as quickly as they had during the town hall, but if he was being honest with himself, not helping at all doesn’t sit right with his conscience.

He’s so wrapped up in his own head that he doesn’t realize Rama is in the same room as him. He lifts his head when he speaks, smiling softly as he lays eyes on him. Rama stares quite frequently; he’s not sure he’ll ever get used to it, that softness behind his eyes that he’s helping to create.

He laughs quietly and brings his hand to his beard, patting down some of the wayward hairs. “Is it that bad?” It probably is. “I meant it, yes. I still do.”

The soft smile that'd been mirroring Francis' deepens with pleasure. There's something in Francis saying yes to him, of course, but there's something about him letting Raju do this, too. Even with how long Francis has been injured, Raju hasn't tired of taking care of him yet.

"Good," Raju says, leaning this way and that to see different angles on the beard in the bright light and noting spots he wants to come back to once he can. "We should do it while there's good light, I'd hate to do a bad job of it."

There’s nothing quite like making Rama smile. If he hadn’t agreed to getting his beard trimmed before he gladly would have at that smile alone. His breath hitches in his throat; maybe he’ll touch his head while he trims his beard. Wouldn’t that be lovely? At the very least he’ll be able to look up into his beautiful brown eyes.

“The light is pleasing enough now,” he says, tipping his head in spite of himself. “What do you think?”

"I think that's a wonderful idea," he says, pleased, and moves close enough to raise a hand to Francis' face. This kind of gesture in this kind of way is new to him still, and the pleasure on his face leans a little fascinated as he watches his hand scratching through the wiry hair over Francis' cheek.

"You're in the perfect spot already," Raju goes on, other hand coming to rest naturally over Francis' waist, light and barely touching. "I've been admiring it. Sunlight compliments you beautifully."

He supposes that one day he’ll grow used to the sweet words and sincere compliments, but today is not that day. He glances away with an awkward smile, familiar little flip in his belly as Rama touches his waist and sings his praises. He does find himself leaning into the touch slightly, doing so without even realizing his body has started to automatically respond to Rama this way.

“Does it?” he says, laughing quietly. Rama is genuine with his compliments, even if it’s still hard to for Crozier to believe. He’s learned now to accept and even be a little pleased by them.

“Is that why you decided to ask about the beard now? You’ve been staring?” He’s teasing and absolutely flirtatious in tone.

Even the words themselves aren't like complimenting a woman; Francis isn't playing a game when he looks away and acts doubtful. He isn't hoping for more while trying to seem modest. He genuinely doesn't seem to know what to do with it. But neither does he seem to mind, leaning into Raju's hand and after a moment rallying enough to flirt back. Raju looks from his hand to smile into Francis' eyes, proud.

"Of course I was. Why wouldn't I be staring at the most beautiful sight for miles? This is starting to make you look like a hermit, though." He rubs the ends of Francis' beard between his fingers fondly, hoping the observation cuts the compliment enough to make it palatable.

Rama does look at him as though he’s the most beautiful thing for miles. It makes him feel incredibly fortunate to have found someone like him in this, of all places.

“So less of a beautiful sight,” he replies dryly, eyes crinkled in delight. “Mn, we must fix that, mustn’t we? I wouldn’t want you to tire of the view.”

"I won't," he says easily, just smiling at Francis for a moment. "But I won't mind improving it a bit. Here, I'll get a chair and pull it over. This spot is perfect."

He moves to get one, looking back at Francis as he moves it. "What do you like? What length and shape?"

He considers some of his past teasing with a faint, almost mischievous sort of smile.

“What if you simply shaved it completely?”

He’s starting to feel a little less like some wandering hermit, and more like he did when he was still…himself. Perhaps it was time to try it without the beard.

For a moment Raju stops pulling, looking surprised. His gaze darts over Francis' face, trying to imagine it. They've talked about it before, but it's harder to imagine now that suddenly it's nearly a reality. It isn't that Raju isn't curious, he wants to see it. But Francis has worn his beard more or less that way since they'd first met; the man's face seems made for something growing there. "Completely? You mean, all the way off? You're certain?"

“I can always grow it back,” he reasons, still smiling. He lives for a good shocked expression on a pretty person. “Why? Would you be repulsed by a smooth face?”

It would be different. And maybe if Rama hates it it’ll give him a little reprieve from temptation!

"Of course not," he grins, pulling the bench the rest of the way and then going for the dish of soap and bucket of pine needle water, his grooming kit, a sheet that hasn't yet been torn apart for rags. "It's only that you've always had it. As long as I've known you, anyway. And it covers so much of your face. What am I going to be seeing under there? There could be anything."

“A chin, I imagine,” he says, closing his notebook and setting his pencil aside. He can do the prep work for Rama, sitting himself back and removing his shirt to keep the hair from falling on his jumper. “A lower lip.”

He does give the question a little more consideration, reaching for the pine needle water to give his beard a cursory scrub to soften the hair and his skin. “A few scars here and there. Imperfections.”

Raju leans back, watching Francis take his shirt off and letting his eyes wander after. He wasn't going to ask for that, but if Francis is volunteering, Raju isn't going to stop him. As Francis goes on Raju's gaze flicks back to Francis' face; he sounds a little more serious at that than he did at chin and lip and Raju thinks of Francis' discomfort with compliments, studying him.

"Are you trying to warn me?" Raju smiles. "I'm going to like it. I like your face already, you know."

He laughs softly. “I’m told it’s endearing, which sounds remarkably similar to being placated.”

But it’s his face, it’s the only one he has, and he doesn’t hate it. In fact, he’s looking forward to Rama seeing the rest of it.

“But I know you’ll like it.” He looks up at him with a quick smile and leans back into the chair, ready for the cold to hit his face again.

"Good." Raju flashes him an eager, closemouthed smile that's eclipsed a second later by businesslike focus as he steps in close, taking Francis' chin between his fingers and turning his head this way and that. He doesn't have to move Francis to get a good look, he could move himself instead, but he wants to. He likes holding Francis' chin this way.

His hand rubs at the beard as he draws his hand away, fondly. Last time seeing it for a while, messy and unkempt as it is.

"I think I'm going to cut the excess off first," he says, reaching in his kit for his scissors, "and then wash what's left. Unless you'd like me to wash all of it before anything else. Who was it who was placating you about your face?"

He doesn’t try hiding the preen in his smile as Rama holds his chin and inspects his beard. As far as beards go he knows it’s not a pretty sight - not clipped and trimmed and flattering like the one on Rama, but he’s been fond of it. It makes him feel less connected to the old world he left.

“Trim, then wash,” he agrees. “And no one you need to know about, Rama. They aren’t here for you to threaten.”

"I wouldn't." Raju takes up the sheet, grinning at Francis as he drapes it around his shoulders, over his chest. "Unless you asked," he adds, then his free hand tugs a portion of Francis' beard just enough to hold it straight. "Last chance to keep your beard."

He waits but knows Francis won't tell him he's changed his mind, and in a moment he's holding the little scissors as close to Francis' face as he can get them. "Keep still now, this shouldn't take more than a minute." Jaw and cheeks first, then he'll move down to the neck. Bit by bit Raju starts cutting it away, holding Francis' jaw and turning his head by his firm, careful grip when he needs a new angle.

"I did think you preferred to keep it long, though," he says absently as he focuses on his hands and Francis' face. "What changed your mind?"

He doesn’t change his mind, pushing for Rama to continue with a soft nod. Change doesn’t bother him. Once upon a time maybe it would have, but he wouldn’t have made for a very good explorer if he was too set in his ways.

“You know I stopped shaving after I came to stay with the Netsilik,” he recounts, raising his chin up absently. Being tended to in this way is oddly familiar. “But before that I stayed shaved. I’d preferred it then. I suppose I’m just eager to see if I’ll feel the same as I did then if I rid myself of the beard.”

"No uniform," he notes, holding some of the chunks of beard under Francis' chin tight enough so he can start cutting them off. It's odd to see the length he's become so used to disappearing this way. Odd, and a little exciting; but he isn't done yet, so he doesn't yet let himself take a look at the whole picture of Francis' face. Only pieces, a section of his jawline here, part of his neck there. It isn't all uneven stubble quite yet, but it's close. "It won't be quite the same."

The first ‘snip’ gives him a pleasant little shiver down his spine. No turning back now - not unless he wants to look even more a mess than before, at any rate.

“It’s only fitting; I’m a civilian now.”

"Mm." Raju pulls and snips in a line over Francis' cheek, thinking about that. It isn't how he thinks about himself; but of course it wouldn't be. Francis' work is done.

There's something stirring under the thought. Now isn't the time to look on it, so he leaves all of it in the dark. He takes a slow, steadying breath, finishing the one cheek and moving to his neck on the other side. "You're a retired man now, hm? Is this what you thought retirement would look like?" He gives Francis a little grin as he glances at his eyes, the little joke — the stark difference between this and any civilization, particularly the kind Francis must have at one point expected back home — helping pull Raju's mind down other safer paths.

It’s safer to joke about ‘retirement’ than discuss the very depressing truth. He thinks about the last time he ever heard James Clark Ross’ voice, the heartbreak he couldn’t stand to listen to as one friend explained to the other that they’d all died miserably.

“I thought I’d be married,” he admits, smiling a little sheepishly. “Married, with a successful command under my belt, perhaps some children on the way.”

"It'd suit you." Raju cuts one line off Francis' beard, then another, then another, then moves on to that side of his chin. "Fatherhood would suit you." He realises after he says it that, in trying to focus on that topic instead of the one the 'civilian' comment had first turned his mind to, he's forgotten to wonder whether he should be careful; it isn't easy to hear about what you'll never have, for all Francis had been smiling about it a second ago. His eyes move to Francis', his expression watchful and a little cautious.

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