Work Text:
You're sitting with Gilbert in the bath, but not together. He’s sitting in the tub, amused that you won’t look at certain parts of him, but still insisting on sitting by him outside of the tub.
“It’s much warmer in here,” he points out, swirling his finger across the surface, “this tub also has room for two, I would say.”
“I’m not the one who came back soaked after a trip out.”
Gilbert shrugs, “weather can be unpredictable.”
You don’t believe him for a second. When he came back to the palace, he was still dripping from the downpour he had been ‘caught’ in, and had the gall to grin at your panic. The whole time that you shoved him towards the bath, trying to figure out scoldings that wouldn’t cause a war, that grin stayed plastered to his face (alongside teases that you had gone too far with your words, and now he was contemplating war again unless you found a sweet way to apologize.)
Lips pursed, you tried to focus back on the book in your hands. Hopefully, he hadn’t noticed you’ve read the same page about five times now.
You hear the water slosh as he moves, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him rest his arm on the edge of the tub, a dramatic sigh escaping him.
When you ignore it, you hear the water slosh again.
“It would be such a shame if your book got wet-”
“Prince Gilbert!” You huff, swatting his dripping hand away, “maybe I just want to make sure you warm up properly.”
“Only just?”
“Only just.”
“Washing my hair yourself led me to believe there was more-”
“Well, there wasn’t!”
Resting his chin on his arm, he chuckles over your answer. And for a moment, you believe you’re fine. That he’s settled down now, but he points at your book again, letting out an amused chuckle when you defend it from water droplets.
“Read to me, then.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Read. To. Me.”
Really? You glance at the page, skimming the words to make sure there is nothing explicit. When you deem it safe, you glance at him again.
“It is fiction, but it’s not the type of romance story you said you prefer…”
He shrugs, settling back into the tub again, “I read more than my preferences, little rabbit.”
… It felt ridiculous to fulfill his 'request’, but as you shakily began to read the words aloud, you couldn’t help but notice his posture become more relaxed.