This part feels wonderful, too, so Raju doesn't mind too much when his hand has to slide off Francis' arm so he can start moving the towel around. "I'm saving the pomade," Raju says, not much caring about it or about making his hair look like anything at this particular moment, happy only to still be here in this house, to feel Francis' legs under him and the heat of his body just there, to be talking to him about anything. Once Francis finishes it isn't going to occur to him to sit up, handling the rest or not; there's no tension in his body at all, only relief and that glowing, humming feeling, and he's happy here. "I just have to shape my hair before it dries. It could look worse, I suppose. But I'd have run out of the product by now if I used it every day."
He hasn’t moved away. He hopes Raju doesn’t; it’s so nice to just have him there, to be able to look down at him as he teases him and keep touching his head.
"Mhm." Raju shifts around but only to get a better look at Francis, too relaxed to mind the way the movement messes the hair at the back of his head as he moves against Francis' legs. It gives his reaching arm a better angle, too; he doesn't much care which part of Francis he touches, only wants to be touching something. "I haven't found much more like it anywhere yet, and I might need it someday. Who knows who I might want to impress?"
Oh yes, lots and lots of people to impress out here in the wilderness. Crozier smirks down at him, enjoy the easy conversation between the two of them. This is how it should be, not that visceral, snarling exchange they had not too long ago.
“Grand idea, save it for a wedding, or when Constable Fraser’s crowned King of Milton.”
"God save the constable," Raju snorts, and then smiles up at Francis for a moment, content, thoughtful. "But you're not wrong. There isn't anyone, is there? No one important."
He thinks over that idea. Thinks about the things Francis knows about him now. It's strange. There are things he can say, not just the awful parts but the everyday ones, that he's never really explained to anyone before. Uncle, a little, but not like this, not relaxed and just talking. When Raju goes on it's a little more slowly, charting new waters. "I... used to spend my time off talking to superior officer's sons, their cousins, the women they had their eye on. Involved in their lives. Getting on their good side. You have to look a certain way. But here, it only matters who I'd want to. And you don't care about any of that at all, do you? I could wear anything. I could grow my hair wild and stop brushing it for months and you'd only make fun of me."
"I'd worry about your mental stability, but yes," he laughs. He's finished washing his hair, so now he doesn't have a good excuse for touching him other than 'because he wants to'. Hopefully he won't get called out on it.
"I wouldn't care, no. Not to say I don't have an appreciative eye for beauty, because I certainly do." He loves the beauty of the sea or the ice, the kaleidoscope in the skies during the Aurora, fine paintings and the twinkling of stars in the sky. But he loves a good personality the best - a brave, intelligent, somewhat reckless person to balance out his careful nature.
"Hm." Raju squirms around, turning a little more onto his side to give his neck a different angle to look up at. That makes it easier too, incidentally, to put set a hand on Francis' leg, the other stretched flat on the floor just next to it. "But you don't care much about grooming, I thought. Is there something else you're thinking of when you're looking for beauty, then? Something you like?"
Idle questions. Satisfying questions; he's hungry to know the answer. He wants everything that he can get, and this in particular. He's hungry to know everything there is about Francis, the man who can hear all of Raju's terrible secrets without blinking, the man with his fingers moving over Raju's hair.
"Lord. If I knew we'd be venturing down this path..." he scoffs, very tenderly - yet casually - brushing Raju's hair around his ear to help him set it.
"Just because I say I don't care about meticulous grooming doesn't mean I don't enjoy it. I like a woman with coiffed hair and a pretty frock." He pauses in hesitation, then laughs a little at himself in embarrassment. There are a few other preferences he's accumulated over the year, but if he's too specific he'll admit to his other proclivities. He could pray that Raju doesn't immediately recoil in disgust, or he could keep being vague.
"Expressive eyes, and a smirk. I always did fall quick for a quick wit and a sly smirk. And I...well, I find that hands are very beautiful. I used to hate when they'd be covered with formal gloves. Gloves are for cold weather, not the opera or a dress uniform."
He makes a quiet little noise as he considers what else he appreciates in a person. "Laughter. A real laugh, and a shared joke. And I always did have a soft spot for the impulsively brave."
"Well, that proves my point, doesn't it?" Raju's hand lifts off from Francis' leg just long enough to gesture broadly in the air, then sets itself down again. "None of that's beauty, that's... everything else. The hands are close, I suppose, but all the rest— you're a romantic, Francis."
Raju says it with a grin, pleased with himself like he's caught his friend out. "Grooming and hair and fine clothes are the afterthought, and you're writing odes to wit and laughter and bravery. I suppose it isn't much of a surprise, I should have expected to see that romantic heart in a man like you." The self-satisfaction in Raju's smile is softening with fondness around its edges and his hand rubs its place on Francis' thigh a little, the gesture meant to soften his teasing. Because it is teasing, but it would be terrible if Francis thought Raju didn't see him all the more warmly for it.
“Oh, that’s hardly fair,” he protests, laughing quietly. “How is any of that not beauty?”
He sits back with a little huff. If he said anything else it would be too specific, he’d give himself away,, but he guesses being labeled as a romantic isn’t hurting anything.
“What about you? I bare my soul for you to criticize, the least you could do is tell me what you find beautiful.”
Raju opens his mouth, automatically ready with a usual answer—
—and then he pauses, considering. He can say anything, now. He doesn't have to say anything, so he can tell Francis anything at all.
"I, ah..." He looks down, over Francis' chest and his stomach and away, then back up at Francis' face, and he pauses for a second. "Would it... be so strange if I don't know?" Before he's finished asking he's smiling a little at himself, to get ahead of the answer being 'yes'. Not that Francis would think so, of course, but it is, isn't it?
"Eyes, hair, body? The usual thing, I think. There's never been any reason to pick anything out." Then his smile grows, teasing again, as he shifts around happily against Francis' legs. "Not everyone's going to skip the question and go straight to personality like you."
He chuckles under his breath. They’re both being a little vague now with their answers, but Raju’s never allowed himself to admire pretty things. There would have been no time for it when he was an officer - that would have been too frivolous! Or perhaps it has something to do with his fiancé and waiting to remain faithful.
“Some people don’t know what’s beautiful until they see it, mn?” Lord knows that’s been the case for him. He strictly admired blue eyes once upon a time, liked blonde and copper hair until he saw brunette locks carefully arranged into waves and curls. He admired tall, lithe figures, and then curvy ones, and then those with strong physiques - he’s the last person to have a physical type, but he knows what’s beautiful and what’s not.
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being a romantic, do you?”
"Hmm." The sound is low, pleased and warm. "Certainly not. It's just rare. The real way, the way that you do it. It's... poetry is easy. You only have to read the right things, and remember how to say them later. And compliments are easy. But thinking, say... bravery, that that's what beauty is, and really meaning that — bravery, shared jokes — that's rare. You look at someone you find beautiful and you see them. Not just their shape, or the way they've done themselves up."
He shifts to put the hand on Francis' thigh under his jaw, too, propping his head up, and smiles up at Francis, admires him. "It's... good. I know that. You're a good man. You do know it too, don't you?"
"Mm," he says, an agreeing noise, for all it isn't his own thought. He hasn't really developed his own thought on the matter. There are certainly days it seems the opposite. But without an ounce of tension in any of him, with that need to move so quiet, laying here cared for by a man who's proven time and again that Raju can trust him with anything, he doesn't mind agreeing.
"But what makes a man choose to do that work?" Or, agreeing was his first thought, anyway. It isn't what comes out of his mouth. Maybe pushing is too much of a habit by now. He doesn't sound like he's pushing, at least, his voice relaxed and agreeable even if the words aren't. "Where does that come from? Plenty don't. Most never even wonder if they should."
“Lord, that’s an even more difficult question, Raju. No easy answers today, mn?” He laughs and sits back briefly, looking up at the ceiling.
For him it had been a series of choices. He always thought he was a decent man; certainly before the fated expedition he wasn’t a bad man. But he was a sad man, a pathetic man, and he knew he needed to do better.
“I hurt a friend through my actions; that was my turning point. From that day on I knew I had to do better, but it was difficult and I faltered. I still do. But what it takes for each person, I couldn’t possibly say.”
"Mm. Someone needed you." Raju shifts around again, a little more onto his back. It's a little easier — just a little — to stay still at night, when Francis is so near and trying to sleep, and so needs him to be still. It's strange to be so relaxed while not actually tired, not beyond what's already becoming a normal pull at the back of his mind without any daylight to keep track of the night. He bends a leg, moving it back and forth in the air to try and tell the rest of him that it can keep resting. "I imagine that's at the heart of it; whether that matters more to a man than what he wants. You hurt a friend, and you didn't want to do it again. Plenty of men would have stopped thinking about it there."
It helps that the nature of the injury was traumatic. Hearing Thomas scream through the leather strap between his teeth as his leg was sawed off would have haunted the dreams of a stranger, let alone a dear friend.
He shakes his head. This conversation feels so casual, Raju sprawled out in his lap, the two of them laughing and joking. It feels good, even if the conversation's taken on a more philosophical nature now.
"Plenty of men are pricks," he says with a snort. "I've had my fair share of moments, don't mistake me, but I'd like to think my baser instincts are to be civil, if not kind."
Raju makes another one of those relaxed, wordless noises, thinking and still studying Francis, fascinated. The idea of Francis as he is now taking work to be that way is strange. Maybe it shouldn't be, but it is. "What were you like before? It's hard to imagine you anything but kind, the way you are now."
"Oh, yes?" That also sounds so strange to him, only ever being known as this creature. "All you need to do is have a frank conversation with Little or Irving. Gibson will probably tell you, Jopson if he's pressed."
But before that. Before those months in the ice when he'd gotten too ill to think straight.
"I was envious, and bitter," he admits, just a little more quietly than before. "I saw what others had and I wanted it for myself, and it was humiliating to feel that way. I loathed myself for it."
Crozier shakes his head a little. "And then of course there's the melancholy, quieter in my youth but unchecked after Antarctica. As the years ticked by it made me...difficult to be around. So I imagine. Then when I let the whiskey take full hold over me, I was cruel and jaded, and worst of all, indifferent. I'm certain you would have loathed me."
He's still surprised that Blanky and Jopson had stayed so loyal when he'd been nothing but abusive to them both during the worst of it.
“No,” Raju says, not giving either of them a moment to think about it, in that moment very certain. Maybe he hasn’t thought about it. But Francis has heard the worst of Raju and stayed through all of it; Raju should be able to do the same, if it ever came down to knowing the man Francis used to be, somehow. Besides: “The core of a good, kind man was always there. You wouldn’t have been able to grow into him later if it wasn’t there already. I would have seen that.”
In this Raju is very certain, too. Of course he would have. Maybe things would have been different, but he would have seen the kind of man Francis is underneath the rest, even if it was deep underneath. Raju isn’t blind.
He laughs quietly; Raju is so adamant, how can he not trust him? He admires his judge of character; perhaps if they’d known each other all those years ago he would count Raju among his closest friends, even when he was the worst version of himself.
“If you had known me then you could have knocked some sense into me.”
"I can do that," he grins. "Would it have done you any good? Your pride must have been more fragile then than it is now, I can't imagine you'd have thanked me for it."
“I would have tried to punch you.” His gaze falls back onto his face, his lovely eyes, and he laughs. He’d tried to punch Fitzjames and he’d loved those eyes too.
“But it might have helped. Lord knows I needed a rude awakening.”
"Mm. Sometimes a good brawl does help." He pauses, reconsidering. "Not for us, I suppose. Or maybe just not about this, or with that odd fog in the air."
It's easy to talk about fighting with Francis lightly now, with Francis' hand in his hair and his legs under Raju's hand and head, and the contentment glowing inside him makes it easy to grin as he goes on. "Maybe we can try it next time, see if a punch or two clears things up at all."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
no subject
“Saving the pomade for special occasions?”
He hasn’t moved away. He hopes Raju doesn’t; it’s so nice to just have him there, to be able to look down at him as he teases him and keep touching his head.
no subject
no subject
Oh yes, lots and lots of people to impress out here in the wilderness. Crozier smirks down at him, enjoy the easy conversation between the two of them. This is how it should be, not that visceral, snarling exchange they had not too long ago.
“Grand idea, save it for a wedding, or when Constable Fraser’s crowned King of Milton.”
no subject
He thinks over that idea. Thinks about the things Francis knows about him now. It's strange. There are things he can say, not just the awful parts but the everyday ones, that he's never really explained to anyone before. Uncle, a little, but not like this, not relaxed and just talking. When Raju goes on it's a little more slowly, charting new waters. "I... used to spend my time off talking to superior officer's sons, their cousins, the women they had their eye on. Involved in their lives. Getting on their good side. You have to look a certain way. But here, it only matters who I'd want to. And you don't care about any of that at all, do you? I could wear anything. I could grow my hair wild and stop brushing it for months and you'd only make fun of me."
no subject
"I'd worry about your mental stability, but yes," he laughs. He's finished washing his hair, so now he doesn't have a good excuse for touching him other than 'because he wants to'. Hopefully he won't get called out on it.
"I wouldn't care, no. Not to say I don't have an appreciative eye for beauty, because I certainly do." He loves the beauty of the sea or the ice, the kaleidoscope in the skies during the Aurora, fine paintings and the twinkling of stars in the sky. But he loves a good personality the best - a brave, intelligent, somewhat reckless person to balance out his careful nature.
no subject
Idle questions. Satisfying questions; he's hungry to know the answer. He wants everything that he can get, and this in particular. He's hungry to know everything there is about Francis, the man who can hear all of Raju's terrible secrets without blinking, the man with his fingers moving over Raju's hair.
no subject
"Lord. If I knew we'd be venturing down this path..." he scoffs, very tenderly - yet casually - brushing Raju's hair around his ear to help him set it.
"Just because I say I don't care about meticulous grooming doesn't mean I don't enjoy it. I like a woman with coiffed hair and a pretty frock." He pauses in hesitation, then laughs a little at himself in embarrassment. There are a few other preferences he's accumulated over the year, but if he's too specific he'll admit to his other proclivities. He could pray that Raju doesn't immediately recoil in disgust, or he could keep being vague.
"Expressive eyes, and a smirk. I always did fall quick for a quick wit and a sly smirk. And I...well, I find that hands are very beautiful. I used to hate when they'd be covered with formal gloves. Gloves are for cold weather, not the opera or a dress uniform."
He makes a quiet little noise as he considers what else he appreciates in a person. "Laughter. A real laugh, and a shared joke. And I always did have a soft spot for the impulsively brave."
no subject
Raju says it with a grin, pleased with himself like he's caught his friend out. "Grooming and hair and fine clothes are the afterthought, and you're writing odes to wit and laughter and bravery. I suppose it isn't much of a surprise, I should have expected to see that romantic heart in a man like you." The self-satisfaction in Raju's smile is softening with fondness around its edges and his hand rubs its place on Francis' thigh a little, the gesture meant to soften his teasing. Because it is teasing, but it would be terrible if Francis thought Raju didn't see him all the more warmly for it.
no subject
“Oh, that’s hardly fair,” he protests, laughing quietly. “How is any of that not beauty?”
He sits back with a little huff. If he said anything else it would be too specific, he’d give himself away,, but he guesses being labeled as a romantic isn’t hurting anything.
“What about you? I bare my soul for you to criticize, the least you could do is tell me what you find beautiful.”
no subject
—and then he pauses, considering. He can say anything, now. He doesn't have to say anything, so he can tell Francis anything at all.
"I, ah..." He looks down, over Francis' chest and his stomach and away, then back up at Francis' face, and he pauses for a second. "Would it... be so strange if I don't know?" Before he's finished asking he's smiling a little at himself, to get ahead of the answer being 'yes'. Not that Francis would think so, of course, but it is, isn't it?
"Eyes, hair, body? The usual thing, I think. There's never been any reason to pick anything out." Then his smile grows, teasing again, as he shifts around happily against Francis' legs. "Not everyone's going to skip the question and go straight to personality like you."
no subject
He chuckles under his breath. They’re both being a little vague now with their answers, but Raju’s never allowed himself to admire pretty things. There would have been no time for it when he was an officer - that would have been too frivolous! Or perhaps it has something to do with his fiancé and waiting to remain faithful.
“Some people don’t know what’s beautiful until they see it, mn?” Lord knows that’s been the case for him. He strictly admired blue eyes once upon a time, liked blonde and copper hair until he saw brunette locks carefully arranged into waves and curls. He admired tall, lithe figures, and then curvy ones, and then those with strong physiques - he’s the last person to have a physical type, but he knows what’s beautiful and what’s not.
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being a romantic, do you?”
no subject
He shifts to put the hand on Francis' thigh under his jaw, too, propping his head up, and smiles up at Francis, admires him. "It's... good. I know that. You're a good man. You do know it too, don't you?"
no subject
He smiles warmly, albeit a touch bashfully at being looked at so closely. Truly looked at, seen like he’d seen others, like he’d seen Raju.
“It takes some reminding,” he tells him honestly. “And work. No man is innately good, or wakes knowing they’re good or decent.”
no subject
"But what makes a man choose to do that work?" Or, agreeing was his first thought, anyway. It isn't what comes out of his mouth. Maybe pushing is too much of a habit by now. He doesn't sound like he's pushing, at least, his voice relaxed and agreeable even if the words aren't. "Where does that come from? Plenty don't. Most never even wonder if they should."
no subject
“Lord, that’s an even more difficult question, Raju. No easy answers today, mn?” He laughs and sits back briefly, looking up at the ceiling.
For him it had been a series of choices. He always thought he was a decent man; certainly before the fated expedition he wasn’t a bad man. But he was a sad man, a pathetic man, and he knew he needed to do better.
“I hurt a friend through my actions; that was my turning point. From that day on I knew I had to do better, but it was difficult and I faltered. I still do. But what it takes for each person, I couldn’t possibly say.”
no subject
no subject
It helps that the nature of the injury was traumatic. Hearing Thomas scream through the leather strap between his teeth as his leg was sawed off would have haunted the dreams of a stranger, let alone a dear friend.
He shakes his head. This conversation feels so casual, Raju sprawled out in his lap, the two of them laughing and joking. It feels good, even if the conversation's taken on a more philosophical nature now.
"Plenty of men are pricks," he says with a snort. "I've had my fair share of moments, don't mistake me, but I'd like to think my baser instincts are to be civil, if not kind."
no subject
no subject
"Oh, yes?" That also sounds so strange to him, only ever being known as this creature. "All you need to do is have a frank conversation with Little or Irving. Gibson will probably tell you, Jopson if he's pressed."
But before that. Before those months in the ice when he'd gotten too ill to think straight.
"I was envious, and bitter," he admits, just a little more quietly than before. "I saw what others had and I wanted it for myself, and it was humiliating to feel that way. I loathed myself for it."
Crozier shakes his head a little. "And then of course there's the melancholy, quieter in my youth but unchecked after Antarctica. As the years ticked by it made me...difficult to be around. So I imagine. Then when I let the whiskey take full hold over me, I was cruel and jaded, and worst of all, indifferent. I'm certain you would have loathed me."
He's still surprised that Blanky and Jopson had stayed so loyal when he'd been nothing but abusive to them both during the worst of it.
no subject
In this Raju is very certain, too. Of course he would have. Maybe things would have been different, but he would have seen the kind of man Francis is underneath the rest, even if it was deep underneath. Raju isn’t blind.
no subject
He laughs quietly; Raju is so adamant, how can he not trust him? He admires his judge of character; perhaps if they’d known each other all those years ago he would count Raju among his closest friends, even when he was the worst version of himself.
“If you had known me then you could have knocked some sense into me.”
no subject
no subject
“I would have tried to punch you.” His gaze falls back onto his face, his lovely eyes, and he laughs. He’d tried to punch Fitzjames and he’d loved those eyes too.
“But it might have helped. Lord knows I needed a rude awakening.”
no subject
It's easy to talk about fighting with Francis lightly now, with Francis' hand in his hair and his legs under Raju's hand and head, and the contentment glowing inside him makes it easy to grin as he goes on. "Maybe we can try it next time, see if a punch or two clears things up at all."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)