The cast came off today and Savant is on cloud nine, despite the looming physical therapy and the fact that he'll be on a crutch for a while yet. Being able to take a shower instead of a sponge bath is in an of itself reason enough to celebrate (even if the blasted shower still leaks).
The blond stands under the hot spray, lathering his hair for the second time and thinking of nothing in particular, simply enjoying the shower and riding his own elation.
Creote's been on Savant's mind even more than usual lately. Now, thoughts of his friend are accompanied not by culinary curiosity, but by restlessness. Savant rinses his hair, pulling it through his fingers until it squeaks with cleanliness.
Knowing that he's loved is a strange thing in and of itself. The situation should be intolerably awkward. Except that, somehow, it isn't. There has not been the slightest change in Creote's behavior, and Savant has been watching closely for them.
He'd decided that he would simply ignore that aspect of their relationship and continue their friendship as they had before.
Savant turns off the shower. That notion is displeasing to him now and he cannot for the life of him think of why that might be. After all, he thinks, limping to the towel rack, nothing has changed. Nothing that should matter.
Except...
Savant frowns deeply as he finally identifies his restlessness. Preposterous! He does not want Creote in that fashion! Creote is his trusted friend, not some tryst.
The towel on Savant's skin is soft, almost caressing. The refreshment of a shower, the heat, the feel on his skin...It's easy to get lost in it all. To give onself over to fantasy and what-could-be.
The drip from the showerhead onto the ceramic basin is jarring, and brings Savant back to his senses.
Creote turns entirely away from Savant back to dinner, only to just know discover that his entire--and somewhat expensive--meal has been ruined. And yet, he doesn't care that much. Without even sighing, he grabs a rag and starts wiping up the mess.
"I am doing no such thing." He just can't face the man as he says it.
Comments 34
The blond stands under the hot spray, lathering his hair for the second time and thinking of nothing in particular, simply enjoying the shower and riding his own elation.
Reply
And there's the smell of Creote's cooking...
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Knowing that he's loved is a strange thing in and of itself. The situation should be intolerably awkward. Except that, somehow, it isn't. There has not been the slightest change in Creote's behavior, and Savant has been watching closely for them.
He'd decided that he would simply ignore that aspect of their relationship and continue their friendship as they had before.
Savant turns off the shower. That notion is displeasing to him now and he cannot for the life of him think of why that might be. After all, he thinks, limping to the towel rack, nothing has changed. Nothing that should matter.
Except...
Savant frowns deeply as he finally identifies his restlessness. Preposterous! He does not want Creote in that fashion! Creote is his trusted friend, not some tryst.
Reply
The drip from the showerhead onto the ceramic basin is jarring, and brings Savant back to his senses.
Almost entirely.
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"You know I am right."
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"No, I do not."
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Creote turns entirely away from Savant back to dinner, only to just know discover that his entire--and somewhat expensive--meal has been ruined. And yet, he doesn't care that much. Without even sighing, he grabs a rag and starts wiping up the mess.
"I am doing no such thing." He just can't face the man as he says it.
Reply
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