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To want and to need for a lesser man was to pine and lay idle. Finan was no lesser man. When he felt need curling in the pit of his stomach, it was all encompassing, too consistent and aware to be ignored. It was less of a need and more of an all-consuming desire that had guided his life to this point, being a man who always wanted that which life would deny him. Perhaps he was always destined to be in the pursuit of things which he had no right to pursue, to be longing after things that did not need the attention of a wandering Irishman. It was his biggest flaw yet also combined with his biggest strength, loyalty. He had spent a long time pursuing things that he’d had to right to, enjoying the thrill of it alongside the fulfilment of getting what he’d wanted, yet he was never fully sated. He’d come to realise most of these things when staring aimlessly out of the small hole in a slavers ship that he glimpsed out of to the repetition of “Pull, pull, pull”.
The break in his repetition had come in the form of his ultimate demise, desire and saviour. Uhtred of Bebbanburg. A man with eyes of fire, unmatched willpower and an ability to drag everything and everyone in the vicinity towards him. Finan had been his own source of comfort for a long time, having only previously relied on his mother for any semblance of it. Though the women in his life had lead him to be here, he had no resentment toward them as it was just as much of his own doing as it was theirs. But there was little comfort to be found with women, little security. There was nothing remotely secure on the slave ship, Sverri’s watchful eyes always tracking all of Finan’s movements as if he had the strength to do anything other than think thoughts so venomous, it was like the poisonous nature of his thoughts were killing him from the inside.
Uhtred, on the other hand, seemed content to live his life by his own moral compass. Whilst his bravery was more akin to stupidity in most cases, and his need to speak of perceived injustice rather tiring, he was undoubtedly unlike anyone Finan had ever met previously. His eyes were less like the sea they’d all grown to despise, not treacherous storms or crashing waves, but more like the reflection of the sun on warm waters back home in Ireland. Still waters that were inviting, if not deceiving. For all of Uhtred’s femininity in the softness of his eyes and gentleness of his soul, his eyes could turn to steel as quickly as his temper could rise like the sun in the sky.
Sometimes, when the weather is not chilling the skin from their bones, he and Uhtred wade out in the shallow waters of a small lake together to wash away the sins of the past few weeks, the blood and grime of men who live by their swords. Never too far from the shore, as though they expect to yet again be dragged into the depths of the sea and be so sore all over that it’s hard not to associate being up to your waist in water with a slow death. The first time Uhtred runs his fingers through Finan’s long hair, not long after their freedom, his touch is as gentle but firm as it has always been. He leans into the touch, allows himself the briefest of moments to feel close to someone he wholeheartedly trusts, to savour the affection. It’s not the first or the last time he gets lost in the softness of Uhtred’s eyes, or the crinkle of them as he smiles boyishly and splashes Finan with water playfully. Suddenly, the water isn’t so frightening anymore.
Uhtred asks him frequently about his home, for which Finan has few answers that seem adequate or necessary. He had a home once, now his home is with his men. With Uhtred and Sihtric. He would never again be naïve enough to wish for something as hopeless as safety, not in the life he has lead with the things he has done and is yet to do. But it was close enough. Unlike Uhtred, he does not dream of a legacy that will outlive him in the form of children or a love that is bound with the words of a church or a man of God or Gods. He had no intentions of settling down, slowing down or stopping. He knows too well what a helpless dream of the future can hold for a man when desire is involved, so when he meets Uhtred’s eyes across their camp, face illuminated by the flames dancing in the small fire burning to keep the shivering at bay, he just smiles and lies on his back to stare at the stars instead. They did not need to speak of things they already knew to be true, or to have words about that which they had already spoken. It was as though, sometimes, they were of the same mind and soul.
Sihtric drops furs on him, the weight reassuring and the reprieve from the cold and the light snow more than welcome. There’s something about the boy that is still full of contrast after all this time. Built like a true warrior with burning eyes and a sharp jaw, yet with a kind heart and a temperament that makes him eager to please. He was more than an adequate fighter, someone else Finan would trust his life to, but he was also unnervingly instinctual and empathetic. Whilst Uhtred’s belief in right and wrong was rooted in kind-heartedness, it was barely a shadow compared to Sihtric’s uncanny ability to worm his way into your deepest thoughts after saying a few meagre sentences. If the boy wasn’t so damn superstitious then Finan might assume he was a witch himself, managing to coax thoughts out of Finan’s head he didn’t even know were festering in there. His loyalty to Uhtred was only matched by Finan's, something Uhtred would mockingly mention from time to time. It was hardly a surprise that the boys eyes followed Uhtred's every movement, waiting for a chance to prove himself or to merely be in his presence. To be wanted and needed was a natural instinct and Finan could never mock Sihtric for wanting exactly the same thing that he and everyone else did.
“Are you well?” Sihtric’s voice is low, though most of the men are sleeping much farther into the forest where the trees protect them a shade more from the falling snow.
“’Course I am. Other than the snow,” Finan muses, turning his head to look at Sihtric, “or the cold, or the fact we’ve been out here for days and the raiders still haven’t shown their faces?”
This time, they were not waiting to capture or kill raiders at Alfred's behest but at Uhtred's, with his insistence that they ignore the ramblings of an alleged seer and instead focus on keeping the ever growing number of Dane's from infesting the land. Though the men grumble, as to be expected, they still followed suit.
“Maybe they saw the men hanging?” He offers, Finan’s barking laugh seeming to startle him so suddenly that he falls from his squatting position beside Finan’s fur right onto his back. This of course only makes Finan laugh harder, Sihtric’s cheeks reddening.
“I doubt that!” Finan chuckles, wheezing a little and staring at Sihtric’s wide brown eyes, captivated by the bouncing of the moonlight on his cheekbones and the way the snow clings to his now short hair. He reaches out to brush it all off, Sihtric staying exactly where he was, on his back.
When Sihtric starts shivering, Finan’s first instinct is to make him warm, though perhaps he does not think it through entirely when he rolls too violently to his right and ends up on top of an already thoroughly embarrassed Sihtric. His hands brace Finan’s shoulders instantly and Finan thankfully holds his weight up with his hands either side of Sihtric’s head. For a moment, nothing else exists beside Sihtric underneath him, his breathing steady and his eyes pliant. He isn’t sure which of them moves first, but when their lips meet it’s as if Finan’s desire is finally starting to be sated, Sihtric’s fingers weaving deftly into his Finan’s tousled hair and his other hand cupping Finan’s cheek. Whilst Finan is all animal instincts and growling, Sihtric is low gasps and sighs. When his head moves backwards, Finan’s mouth immediately drags down the expanse of his neck, kissing and biting as he goes with Sihtric’s fingers in his hair both pulling and pushing.
“If you don’t quieten down, the men are gonna think there’s a fight goin’ on down here, Sihtric.” Finan teases, beard tickling at Sihtric’s neck as he nips playfully. It’s as if they’ve done this before, with no semblance of embarrassment or paranoia. It was meant to be.
Sihtric shakes his head, thoroughly flushed by this point, pushing Finan’s face away with a small smile. When he curls up beside Finan to share the furs that had been keeping him toasty, Finan simply moves to accommodate him and hooks an arm around his waist. Sleep doesn’t take long to creep up on him.
“Finan.”
The voice is as familiar as the hair on his head and the sword that is practically moulded to his hand.
“Finan.”
When his eyes finally open, blinking a few times before he sees anything but the stark white sky and more snow, he sees swimming blue crinkled eyes above him. Uhtred smiles, shaking his head at Finan who sometimes sleeps as lightly as a new-born child and other times like a log. This time would be the latter.
“What is it, Uhtred?” He grumbles, noting the absence of Sihtric tucked up by his side. The cold isn’t as biting as it could’ve been without the fur, but the few parts of him exposed to the cold are bitterly chilled.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt your sleep,” Uhtred says, with a tone that clearly indicates otherwise, “but we’re moving out soon, so I assumed you wouldn’t want to be left here sleeping by yourself.”
“Right you are, lord.” Finan sits up, running his fingers through his hair that is wilder than usual, the coil in his stomach reminding him exactly why that was, when he swears he can practically feel fingers running through his hair once more.
“Well, I say by yourself,” Uhtred smiles devilishly, though everything about the man has always screamed sin to Finan, “I meant partially by yourself.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Finan stares innocently, eyelashes fluttering as he blinks with deliberate slowness at the man before him. Uhtred looks back at him, completely stone faced, before his eyes start to burn with the passion and anger Finan is so familiar and helplessly in love with.
“You said you would wait until we were both ready!” He growls, diving on Finan with such a lack of coordination that they both fall back onto the pile of furs, Finan’s arms looping around the waist he is so familiar with as he stares up into the eyes of a man he could never dream of leaving, even if their beliefs dictated they would in the afterlife.
“It was circumstance!” Finan protests, his barking laughter only getting louder when Uhtred playfully swats him in the chest a few times. “It’s not my fault I’m irresistible!”
“That is debatable.” Uhtred replies, leaning down to give Finan a kiss, something Finan had not tired of since their first kiss, when they were not yet fully recovered from their time on the slave ship, only just filling out from a few months of eating properly and being on land. Back then their lips were still dry and chapped but now, Uhtred’s mouth is sinfully soft and his hands grasp onto Finan’s armour with such a strength that Finan can feel the desire tipping over them both once more. If he had to choose between going to heaven or kissing Uhtred one last time, he’d at least be going to the afterlife a happier man.
The snap of a twig is what betrays the man usually too quiet to be spotted under any circumstance, Sihtric looking as if he has just walked into something far more explicit than he has. Like a deer ready to bolt, he turns away as if he is about to disappear into the distance.
“Sihtric.” Uhtred’s voice roots him to the spot, always the voice of absolute authority to him, even when he clearly wishes it wasn’t. “Come here.”
As if the otherworldly forces so many of the pagans believe in is forcing his feet, Sihtric moves towards them as if not of his own accord, eyes pleading as if he expects some kind of punishment. It almost makes Finan feel more protective of him, if that is possible, when wondering the depths of what Sihtric had experienced to make him always so apprehensive and expecting of punishment.
“You’re making him worry.” Finan has to blurt out to Uhtred, although aware both he and Uhtred have a penchant for teasing the boy, in this situation it seems to have no place. Finan is all too aware of the pain that uncertainty can cause, as he had been the same until Uhtred had tucked his childhood necklace around Finan’s neck and under his shirt. Thor’s hammer lay against Finan’s chest even if his cross lay across his armour, the necklace that Uhtred had held so dearly as a reminder of his family now in his care. Uhtred had not mocked him when he had cried a little over it, simply kissing his hand and telling him that he had little to give Finan anyway, so he’d hoped that it would suffice. As if just having Uhtred wasn’t more than Finan deserved anyway.
Uhtred holds his hand out to Sihtric who seems to take it with a degree of hesitation, before grasping it firmly. Uhtred pulls him down beside himself and Finan, Sihtric now on his knees and staring in confusion for a moment before recognition crosses his face.
“All this time!” He gasps, in a ridiculously endearing way that makes Finan want to put his arms around him and squeeze the life out of him. “All this time?”
“You’ll have to elaborate, Sihtric,” Finan laughs, tickling under his neck and smiling when Sihtric stares in indignation at him, “when did you think it started?”
“I don’t know.” He replies honestly, staring between them both with envious eyes. “I just knew something was going on.”
“Then why not say something?” Uhtred asks, swatting at Sihtric’s head with little force, chuckling softly. He leans forward with a hand on Sihtric’s cheek, kissing him slowly, coaxing him into a comfortable pace. Finan feels like he has no need for heaven right now, with all of his wants and needs in the same place, all in unity.
“I don’t know.” Sihtric says in earnest, as though he genuinely cannot even fathom himself why he did not say anything. He stares almost shyly at Finan, clearly remembering last nights events when his eyes roam over Finan’s body until they reach his mouth. Sihtric licks his lips and Finan’s eyes track the movement, captivated once more.
To think, all this time he’d thought women would be the death of him when it will probably be two men.
Always on the same wavelength, Finan and Uhtred grip onto Sihtric to pull him between them both, Uhtred having the slightest advantage in speed when he snakes his arms around Sihtric’s waist and kisses him with enthusiasm once more. Sihtric seems disoriented yet his hands find Uhtred’s cheeks fast enough, cupping them as he lets out a breathy but questioning “Uhtred?”
“All that time ago you decided to make yourself sworn to me. Well, I am also sworn to you, now.” Uhtred smiles fondly, always so sincere in his words that Finan isn’t surprised he’s all everyone ever wants to talk about.
Sihtric looks to Finan and his eyes have the same warmth and familiarity they always have, absent judgement or malice and always empathetic. “Stop laughing at me.” He protests, shoving Finan back with a pout that would put a woman to shame, not that Finan even really sees anyone but the two men before him in such a manner anymore.
The laughter that fills the air makes it feel like the sun is cracking down through the clouds onto them, instead of a barrage of snow filtering through the sky as a reminder that winter was nowhere near over as of yet. Sometimes, Finan did contemplate throwing himself from the slave ship and letting the waters take him in their entirety, in the way that the monstrous and indiscriminate waves would, just to be rid of the ache in his body and heart. Yet now it seems the God he struggles to believe in has seen fit to reward him in some way for the years that had been stolen from him. He had not had a home for years, indeed.
But now his home was with a man with eyes that sparkled like the surface of the sea on a summers day, and another man who had his heart on his sleeve and a pining stare that could melt the heart of even a man who’d thought his soul lost at sea all those years ago.
His home was here.
There were always new men to be found around Uhtred when he travelled, men of questionable moral standing and even further questionable motives. There were Danes and Saxons in their group, which lead often to interesting debates and outcomes. They were all trustworthy, as they would not be in his service otherwise, yet Osferth finds himself often watching the men for his own amusement and to sate his curiosity. One new Saxon man in particular seems to be restless at the sitting and waiting aspect of setting up camp, being put up for watch as he is newer and has no grounds to argue his right to sleep first instead. When he hears the sound of a commotion in the distance his hand instantly clasps around his sword, staring around wildly until his eyes meet Osferth, who makes no movement to his sword.
"Did you hear that?" He challenges, as though Osferth is both deaf and a coward. He wouldn't be the first to imply such a thing, after hearing the commotion.
"Yes, I did." Osferth replies, going back to sipping his broth and savouring the warmth, ignoring the frantic stare of the Saxon sitting across from him when the noises from further into the woods become even louder.
"Then why do we not move?" He says, now suitably rattled, hand still holding his sword. "We should do something!"
Osferth's laugh seems to inflame him, as he moves to stand before being given a stare that seems completely uncharacteristic of the boy, sharp and intimidating. "You shall do no such thing."
"Why not?" He protests, shifting still.
"That is the Lord Uhtred." Osferth shakes his head at the Saxon, already prepared to cross him. "Lord Uhtred and his.... companions. Sihtric and Finan."
The Saxon pauses, making Osferth glad for a moment that he does not have to explain further, as he has had to for many who have come before him. "They are fighting?"
"I guess you could say that." Osferth smiles over his broth before he almost snorts it up when the Saxon lets out a horrified gasp, staring around as if he cannot believe what he is hearing, when laughter drifts through the forest followed by the unmistakable sound of Gaelic followed by a chorus of moaning.
He wonders if it should be a requirement for all of the newcomers to sit for first watch just to get this discussion out of the way with, to save Osferth time in explaining it every single time.
Then again, if he were to bring it up to Finan, he is positive his head would be ripped from his shoulders.