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.
His smile has a touch of sadness to it, but there isn’t any threat to derailing the moment. He’s come to terms about the life he always wanted for himself, but would never have.
“I always thought it would,” he says somewhat breezily. “And marriage. I thought both would suit me well. But some dreams aren’t meant to be.”
Raju makes an agreeing noise and turns his attention back to his hands. Some things Raju can't change only by willing it, no matter how sure he is that Francis should have had the life he'd wanted. It's an odd thought. But after everything Francis has lived through, even Raju can't argue that Francis might find his way back to that life now. He runs his thumb slowly over Francis' jaw instead of any other gesture that'd draw more attention to itself. Then he moves the scissors up to Francis' cheek, cuts there for a moment, and then he's done. With this one part, anyway. Mostly.
He considers the picture Francis makes, finds himself smiling, then moves the scissors to Francis' upper lip. "I'm looking forward to kissing you without this in the way," he says with a grin as he cuts the hair there shorter, then cleans off his scissors and puts them away, drawing out what he'll need for the rest and setting all of it aside. "And seeing what that lower lip really looks like."
He hopes this means more kissing in his near future, and the thought of that alone is enough to drive away thoughts of Rama missing out on the chance to be a father. He can imagine it - he’d be anxious, worried about repeating past mistakes, worried about passing all the bad parts of himself onto his child, but sweet and fun and all the things a good father should be.
“You’ll be pleasantly surprised. There’s a birth mark shaped like Portugal under there,” he says with a deadpan smile.
Raju half-tries at restraining his smile, mostly for show, a silent faux-protest against Francis saying ridiculous things. "I'll be taking you to task after all of this if there's not," he says, amused, and gathers a little of the pine needle water in his hands to spread it over the lower half of Francis' face. Then he rubs a sliver of soap between his fingers and smooths it over Francis' cheeks, feeling the long stubble beneath his hands.
"You're lucky there's not much direct sun here," he notes as he does, studying Francis' half-uncovered face. "Once I finished you'd be half-pale. Much more striking than Portugal down there."
He laughs softly. He knows Rama wants to laugh, he just knows.
"Thank you for not making me look completely ridiculous," he tells him, raising his head so Rama can have better access to the remaining stubble. "One last farewell kiss to the bearded man?"
Raju pauses, surprised, then smiles again. "Not farewell," he corrects, scooping water in his hands and spilling it over Francis' face as he bends, rinsing the soap off with the same gesture he uses to take Francis' face in both of his hands. "If I miss the layer of hair between my lips and yours I'm sure you'll grow it out again." And with that Raju kisses him, slow and thorough. A little more thorough than he'd intended to be, but as he does it he realises he doesn't see any reason to stop before Francis wants to.
Crozier closes his eyes and lets himself be kissed, a low, satisfied rumble rising in his throat. “Mm.”
The last time they’d kissed like this his hair didn’t get finished, and so with great reluctance he pulls away, pressing a few quick kisses to his lips and then sitting back. “Well, let’s find out if you approve.”
Raju makes a pleased noise to answer that rumble Raju can feel in their lips, in Francis' mouth. As Francis pulls back Raju realises he's licking his lips, then smiles in a bright, amused way at Francis. "I will," he says, and then turns to set things up. He hooks the strop over something nearby and unfolds the blade, starting to run it with quick, practised ease back and forth over the leather side.
"It's been a long time since I used this," he says as he does. "But I've been looking after it. You're in good hands."
A moment more and he's setting the blade aside again to start on the soap, glancing up to study Francis' face as he wets the brush, lathers the soap. "Your hair is longer than it was when you used to shave, isn't it? I'll be the first to see you looking this way." He looks pleased when he says it. Curious as he is about the man Francis says he used to be, the way that man used to look, the way Francis must have seemed when performing the work that would define the rest of his life, Raju finds he likes this too, the idea of seeing something new. Being the first to see something new, because his hand was the one that did it. There's something about that.
“I wouldn’t assume otherwise,” he replies, because there isn’t any question in his mind otherwise. Rama is meticulous in caring for his things, especially something that came from home. There’s so little that came with them from their past lives.
He watches Rama prepare the blade and lather, smiling at the familiarity but intrigued by how intimate it feels with someone other than a steward wielding the blade. Rama is going to bring that razor to his throat and the delicate skin of his cheeks and around his lips, the trust blooming in his chest and overflowing into adoration.
“I suppose you will be,” he smiles, feeling a little heat in his face.
Raju's hand slows as he looks up and catches that hint at a blush. His smile deepens as he pinches gently at Francis' cheek, leans down—
—and stops just short of kissing him, rolling his lips pointedly between his teeth while his eyes carry his smile. His false pinch tightens into a real one for just an instant, long enough to tease Francis, and then he straightens up again, starting to brush the lather over Francis' face. "If there's anything more you'd like to warn me about, say it now. Once I start I'll need you to keep your mouth closed until I'm finished."
Goddamned tease. He wants to pinch him right back, but now begins his trial. He needs to keep his mouth shut while his face is shaved, not only to protect his nose but to prove to Rama that can do the damn thing. He doesn't have to always speak, even if Rama knows full-well what he's doing when he leans in close like that and smiles with that beautiful goddamned smile.
He holds his gaze and shakes his head firmly; no, there's no more he needs to say.
Raju looks pleased, mostly with himself; not answering even before Raju's finished lathering says Francis might be taking it as a challenge, which opens up an avenue that Raju hadn't been considering before. He looks pleased while he lathers one cheek and then the other, across jaw, across upper lip and under chin, over neck. Then he sets the brush down and picks the blade back up, positions the bench behind Francis, kneels there, one hand on his shoulder and the other in front of Francis, blade not opened yet.
"I'm used to doing this for myself only, you understand. My hands are more used to shaving from this angle." He flips open the blade, holding it while leaning around, craning his neck to get a look at Francis' face, as if deciding where to start. "You know, I've been thinking about what I'd like to do to you, once you're well. Would you like to hear?"
Ah. He fully knows what he's doing, his Rama. Maybe his hands are more used to shaving from that particular angle, or maybe he wants to be impossibly close while he does this. He certainly knows he's made a promise not to speak, and considering that movement would also be ill-advised Rama now has a fully captive audience.
He answers with a raise of his brow. As though he'd say 'no' to an offer like that, even one that'll probably wind up killing him in this chair.
At the raised brow and nothing else Raju makes an amused noise, the breath of it moving the lather a little. He holds the blade close to vertical, sets it in place, and moves it down, hand slow and precise as it cuts the stubble away. The sound is more satisfying than he remembers, but then he hadn't ever let his own stubble grow this long until he'd grown it out altogether.
"I've been thinking about what you wanted to do to me," Raju says as he begins. Cheek to chin, in one slow smooth stroke. He picks the blade up, moves it to the side just a little, and does the same again. "The skin behind my balls," he goes on, casually. "You must like being touched there, too, if you've been thinking about it." One more stroke, and then slow attention to the trickier parts next to the lips and near to the jaw. "But I wouldn't be starting there, of course. I think I'd start with your chest. It's been so long since I've been able to touch there."
He pauses, smiling at himself, ducking his head for a moment. "It feels like I've done it before, doesn't it? But I haven't gotten to touch you there at all. Not really. I'd like to feel everything." His free hand moves from Francis' shoulder to his back where the sheet over him parts, sliding slowly over the bare skin there. "Do you think you'd like that?"
Lord knows how long Rama had been waiting to spring these thoughts onto Crozier. He likes to think that he’d been plotting some sort of revenge for the strip show, but it’s more likely that this is a spontaneous little ploy that just so happened to fit in with a desire to groom his wild-looking beard.
He speaks of such filthy things so casually, hinting at the touches before his fingers lightly brush along his bare back. Crozier has to stop himself from shuddering and ruining the integrity of the shave.
He answers by locking eyes with him, mouth lifting in a lopsided smirk. He’d love if he touched him, really touched him, nothing with that worried care behind it.
Francis meets his eyes very deliberately and seeing that smirk pulling unevenly at his lips deepens Raju's smile. His hand wanders downward, settling at the soft skin between Francis' spine and his hip. "Then I'd like to taste you," he says casually, shifting to lean forward a little more, reaching around Francis to rinse the blade and then start on his other cheek. "Your chest first. Your nipples. Your stomach. I want to know what they taste like in my mouth. And I'd like to know how sensitive your nipples are."
His fingers move just a little, as if they're thinking about inching around to the front. They don't, but his hand poses itself, ready to. "Should I test that now do you think? Or should I wait?"
He returns the question with a look that plainly says keep going, Ram, one day you’ll get yours.
Crozier can imagine those pearly teeth on his chest, his hands cupping his pecs like tits and his mouth making everything red and slightly swollen. Yes. Yes, he would like those things now, it would be excellent if they could just rip each other’s clothes off right now-
But he’s half-shaved, and this is a game, and he’s going to win. He merely raises his shoulders in a gentle, laissez faire shrug.
Raju's smile splits his face and his hand has to pause its shaving for a moment as he ducks his head toward Francis' shoulder to laugh, quietly.
"Well, if you really don't care," he says, turning his attention back to Francis' face as he recovers, starting the next feather light motion of the blade in a line down Francis' cheek. "I suppose I shouldn't move my mouth lower then, either. I wasn't paying attention to your thighs before. The inside of your thighs, high up. I wonder if it's smooth or rough. If it would be easy or hard to mark you there. I should let my fingernails grow a little, I think, so I can find out."
With that he draws back just enough to wash the lather off the blade again. "Raise your head for me. Look up at the ceiling."
Crozier loves making him laugh. It’s quickly becoming one of his favorite things in the world, seeing that wide smile on Rama’s face the seconds before he breaks into a great big guffaw or a small chuckle. It’s beautiful, every time it’s beautiful.
He lifts his chin towards the ceiling and holds his upper half still, his hand idly reaching out to brush across the front of Rama’s trousers. A purely coincidental touch, of course, just accidental and nothing more. He’s not responding to the fact that Rama’s is teasing him with thoughts of his hands and mouth exploring his inner thighs.
Raju lets out a sharp breath, half amused at the coincidence of Francis' touch and half something else, and his smile lingers on his face as he eyes the underside of Francis' chin. He'd made the lather thick enough to coat the long stubble but not so thick he couldn't see which way it grew, so if he scrapes the blade that way...
For a moment he's silent, all his focus on his hand, on the soft slope of Francis' chin into his neck, the sound of the stubble cut under the blade and the feel of it, the careful balance between touching Francis' face and not. It'd be hard to really hurt Francis this way, at least by accident, but even a small cut would be unforgivable to this man, from Raju's hand.
"But I haven't decided if I want to yet," he murmurs, concentrating less on his words now. "Mark you, I mean. Or if I want to be gentle. Both, I think." He picks the blade up, repositions it to start another long, slow stroke. "But I can't do the two at once. Maybe it'd be slow, to start with."
The slow grating noise of the razor clipping down his stubble makes the top of his head tingle. It's like butter being spread across a piece of toast, a soft scraping of a blade shaving his rough face smooth. He exhales quietly as Rama moves the blade carefully over his skin; it won't be long now before the beard and moustache is completely gone.
He hums softly in approval. Slow to start sounds nice. All gentleness first, then the roughness. He'd be fine either way, he's quickly come to realize -- he'd like Rama in all ways, new and wondrous as it all is.
Raju hums back. "Slow, then," he says after a moment, craning his neck to try and see the other side of Francis' face, then changing his mind and shifting around to lean over Francis' other shoulder for the better view. The hand on Francis' back slides over toward his hip as Raju shifts his weight, and Raju's thumb moves back and forth over the skin there. "I'd like that. I think... I want to be good to you, Francis. Take care of you. Be sure that you're well. Then..."
He pauses to concentrate on the little details, the last bits. Jaw to neck, making certain every bit of it is smooth and clean. "Then we can see about the rest. I'll find out how many places I don't have to be careful with your skin. That's the one good thing about living in a place this cold, isn't it? You're already covering everything up."
I want to be good to you, Francis. He believes him, dear god, he believes him. He's already so good to him, so sweet and tender and concerned in all things, but the thought that it could somehow be better-
His head swims. He wants to whimper. Maybe it's the touch too, that simple stroke of his thumb over the hint of bare skin there.
He hums again, wanting to be able to speak now. Hasn't he played this game well enough? Hasn't he been so terribly good and still throughout this whole endeavor? He tries to meet his eyes, tries get him to see that he agrees, but ends up going for that hand touch again. This time his hand brushes against Rama's, along his knuckles and down his thumb.
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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.”
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His smile has a touch of sadness to it, but there isn’t any threat to derailing the moment. He’s come to terms about the life he always wanted for himself, but would never have.
“I always thought it would,” he says somewhat breezily. “And marriage. I thought both would suit me well. But some dreams aren’t meant to be.”
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He considers the picture Francis makes, finds himself smiling, then moves the scissors to Francis' upper lip. "I'm looking forward to kissing you without this in the way," he says with a grin as he cuts the hair there shorter, then cleans off his scissors and puts them away, drawing out what he'll need for the rest and setting all of it aside. "And seeing what that lower lip really looks like."
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He hopes this means more kissing in his near future, and the thought of that alone is enough to drive away thoughts of Rama missing out on the chance to be a father. He can imagine it - he’d be anxious, worried about repeating past mistakes, worried about passing all the bad parts of himself onto his child, but sweet and fun and all the things a good father should be.
“You’ll be pleasantly surprised. There’s a birth mark shaped like Portugal under there,” he says with a deadpan smile.
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"You're lucky there's not much direct sun here," he notes as he does, studying Francis' half-uncovered face. "Once I finished you'd be half-pale. Much more striking than Portugal down there."
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He laughs softly. He knows Rama wants to laugh, he just knows.
"Thank you for not making me look completely ridiculous," he tells him, raising his head so Rama can have better access to the remaining stubble. "One last farewell kiss to the bearded man?"
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Crozier closes his eyes and lets himself be kissed, a low, satisfied rumble rising in his throat. “Mm.”
The last time they’d kissed like this his hair didn’t get finished, and so with great reluctance he pulls away, pressing a few quick kisses to his lips and then sitting back. “Well, let’s find out if you approve.”
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"It's been a long time since I used this," he says as he does. "But I've been looking after it. You're in good hands."
A moment more and he's setting the blade aside again to start on the soap, glancing up to study Francis' face as he wets the brush, lathers the soap. "Your hair is longer than it was when you used to shave, isn't it? I'll be the first to see you looking this way." He looks pleased when he says it. Curious as he is about the man Francis says he used to be, the way that man used to look, the way Francis must have seemed when performing the work that would define the rest of his life, Raju finds he likes this too, the idea of seeing something new. Being the first to see something new, because his hand was the one that did it. There's something about that.
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“I wouldn’t assume otherwise,” he replies, because there isn’t any question in his mind otherwise. Rama is meticulous in caring for his things, especially something that came from home. There’s so little that came with them from their past lives.
He watches Rama prepare the blade and lather, smiling at the familiarity but intrigued by how intimate it feels with someone other than a steward wielding the blade. Rama is going to bring that razor to his throat and the delicate skin of his cheeks and around his lips, the trust blooming in his chest and overflowing into adoration.
“I suppose you will be,” he smiles, feeling a little heat in his face.
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—and stops just short of kissing him, rolling his lips pointedly between his teeth while his eyes carry his smile. His false pinch tightens into a real one for just an instant, long enough to tease Francis, and then he straightens up again, starting to brush the lather over Francis' face. "If there's anything more you'd like to warn me about, say it now. Once I start I'll need you to keep your mouth closed until I'm finished."
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Goddamned tease. He wants to pinch him right back, but now begins his trial. He needs to keep his mouth shut while his face is shaved, not only to protect his nose but to prove to Rama that can do the damn thing. He doesn't have to always speak, even if Rama knows full-well what he's doing when he leans in close like that and smiles with that beautiful goddamned smile.
He holds his gaze and shakes his head firmly; no, there's no more he needs to say.
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"I'm used to doing this for myself only, you understand. My hands are more used to shaving from this angle." He flips open the blade, holding it while leaning around, craning his neck to get a look at Francis' face, as if deciding where to start. "You know, I've been thinking about what I'd like to do to you, once you're well. Would you like to hear?"
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Ah. He fully knows what he's doing, his Rama. Maybe his hands are more used to shaving from that particular angle, or maybe he wants to be impossibly close while he does this. He certainly knows he's made a promise not to speak, and considering that movement would also be ill-advised Rama now has a fully captive audience.
He answers with a raise of his brow. As though he'd say 'no' to an offer like that, even one that'll probably wind up killing him in this chair.
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"I've been thinking about what you wanted to do to me," Raju says as he begins. Cheek to chin, in one slow smooth stroke. He picks the blade up, moves it to the side just a little, and does the same again. "The skin behind my balls," he goes on, casually. "You must like being touched there, too, if you've been thinking about it." One more stroke, and then slow attention to the trickier parts next to the lips and near to the jaw. "But I wouldn't be starting there, of course. I think I'd start with your chest. It's been so long since I've been able to touch there."
He pauses, smiling at himself, ducking his head for a moment. "It feels like I've done it before, doesn't it? But I haven't gotten to touch you there at all. Not really. I'd like to feel everything." His free hand moves from Francis' shoulder to his back where the sheet over him parts, sliding slowly over the bare skin there. "Do you think you'd like that?"
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Lord knows how long Rama had been waiting to spring these thoughts onto Crozier. He likes to think that he’d been plotting some sort of revenge for the strip show, but it’s more likely that this is a spontaneous little ploy that just so happened to fit in with a desire to groom his wild-looking beard.
He speaks of such filthy things so casually, hinting at the touches before his fingers lightly brush along his bare back. Crozier has to stop himself from shuddering and ruining the integrity of the shave.
He answers by locking eyes with him, mouth lifting in a lopsided smirk. He’d love if he touched him, really touched him, nothing with that worried care behind it.
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His fingers move just a little, as if they're thinking about inching around to the front. They don't, but his hand poses itself, ready to. "Should I test that now do you think? Or should I wait?"
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He returns the question with a look that plainly says keep going, Ram, one day you’ll get yours.
Crozier can imagine those pearly teeth on his chest, his hands cupping his pecs like tits and his mouth making everything red and slightly swollen. Yes. Yes, he would like those things now, it would be excellent if they could just rip each other’s clothes off right now-
But he’s half-shaved, and this is a game, and he’s going to win. He merely raises his shoulders in a gentle, laissez faire shrug.
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"Well, if you really don't care," he says, turning his attention back to Francis' face as he recovers, starting the next feather light motion of the blade in a line down Francis' cheek. "I suppose I shouldn't move my mouth lower then, either. I wasn't paying attention to your thighs before. The inside of your thighs, high up. I wonder if it's smooth or rough. If it would be easy or hard to mark you there. I should let my fingernails grow a little, I think, so I can find out."
With that he draws back just enough to wash the lather off the blade again. "Raise your head for me. Look up at the ceiling."
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Crozier loves making him laugh. It’s quickly becoming one of his favorite things in the world, seeing that wide smile on Rama’s face the seconds before he breaks into a great big guffaw or a small chuckle. It’s beautiful, every time it’s beautiful.
He lifts his chin towards the ceiling and holds his upper half still, his hand idly reaching out to brush across the front of Rama’s trousers. A purely coincidental touch, of course, just accidental and nothing more. He’s not responding to the fact that Rama’s is teasing him with thoughts of his hands and mouth exploring his inner thighs.
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For a moment he's silent, all his focus on his hand, on the soft slope of Francis' chin into his neck, the sound of the stubble cut under the blade and the feel of it, the careful balance between touching Francis' face and not. It'd be hard to really hurt Francis this way, at least by accident, but even a small cut would be unforgivable to this man, from Raju's hand.
"But I haven't decided if I want to yet," he murmurs, concentrating less on his words now. "Mark you, I mean. Or if I want to be gentle. Both, I think." He picks the blade up, repositions it to start another long, slow stroke. "But I can't do the two at once. Maybe it'd be slow, to start with."
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The slow grating noise of the razor clipping down his stubble makes the top of his head tingle. It's like butter being spread across a piece of toast, a soft scraping of a blade shaving his rough face smooth. He exhales quietly as Rama moves the blade carefully over his skin; it won't be long now before the beard and moustache is completely gone.
He hums softly in approval. Slow to start sounds nice. All gentleness first, then the roughness. He'd be fine either way, he's quickly come to realize -- he'd like Rama in all ways, new and wondrous as it all is.
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He pauses to concentrate on the little details, the last bits. Jaw to neck, making certain every bit of it is smooth and clean. "Then we can see about the rest. I'll find out how many places I don't have to be careful with your skin. That's the one good thing about living in a place this cold, isn't it? You're already covering everything up."
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I want to be good to you, Francis. He believes him, dear god, he believes him. He's already so good to him, so sweet and tender and concerned in all things, but the thought that it could somehow be better-
His head swims. He wants to whimper. Maybe it's the touch too, that simple stroke of his thumb over the hint of bare skin there.
He hums again, wanting to be able to speak now. Hasn't he played this game well enough? Hasn't he been so terribly good and still throughout this whole endeavor? He tries to meet his eyes, tries get him to see that he agrees, but ends up going for that hand touch again. This time his hand brushes against Rama's, along his knuckles and down his thumb.
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