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Strohl sinks into the heated bath slowly. It’s nowhere large enough for someone of his stature, but given their circumstances, it’ll have to do.
He should be grateful there’s such a washroom on this gauntlet runner in the first place. So long as he could get a good soak in, he ought to count his blessings. Until they land and find an actual inn with actual beds and an actual tub, Strohl could keep the lordling complaints to a minimum.
Besides, he thinks. He still has the tub to himself for the next few minutes. Hulkenberg graciously, through gritted teeth, allowed him into the washroom first, after all. And Will—
A knock nearly startles him out of the tub. He half expects Hulkenberg to be at the door, ready to cut his time short, but the door opens and closes quickly as Will slips inside. He’s got a pile of fresh clothing in his arms and a smile on his face as he chirps, “Oh, good! You have room for one more.”
Strohl can do nothing more besides sit and watch Will take his headband off, kicking his shoes into the corner of the small washroom next to Strohl’s boots.
“What—” he clears his throat, “what are you doing?”
“Hulkenberg told me you were in here,” Will says, chucking his coat up and off of his head before setting it onto the floor in a neat lump. He reaches for the waistband of his pants and Strohl quickly looks away, towards the opposite side of the washroom where a few bottles of soap and shampoo stare back at him.
“Ah,” mutters Strohl, “did she.”
Behind him, a few more articles of clothing hit the floor. His pants, surely, and his— underclothing, of course. Of course . He’s about to get into a bath, for God’s sake. Will needed to be naked. Naked and in the same small tub together. So small Strohl wonders if they’d have proper room to really stretch out their legs. And that only brought on thoughts of Will’s legs, bare and slender and—
“Can you scoot over a bit?”
Will stands near the edge of the tub, completely undressed. Strohl swallows. It’s a great struggle to keep his eyes from straying anywhere inappropriate outright. He isn’t one to oggle, but. But.
His eyes flicker for a moment. It’s brief, agonizingly brief but he does notice a few differences between Will’s body and his own. Differences that make it incredibly difficult to not stare, because he was missing— but his chest— the room is starting to spin. The heat is getting to his head and flooding his mind with questions that he doesn’t even know how to word.
So instead of voicing any of them, he scrambles to say, “Yeah, of course— here,” as he nods quickly, drawing his legs towards his chest to allow enough room for Will to settle in across from him. The water rises and drips over the edge of the tub as Will sits, stretching his legs as far as they would go between Strohl’s, though it really isn’t much. The tips of his toes barely graze Strohl’s thighs and his legs are still folded at the knee. Strohl isn’t any better off, caging Will in between his legs.
It’s staggering. He wishes he had something to grip and grip tightly . He knew Will was smaller than most, but this close, Strohl realizes just how much smaller he is. Were all Elda built like this? Or is Will a special case? Maybe he hadn’t eaten enough when he was a child. Maybe he’d been denied milk or simply didn’t like it, or could he have had limited access to meat in his village?
A pleasant sigh breaks him out of his thoughts. Will reclines against the tub with his eyes shut, oblivious to Strohl’s torment. He runs a wet hand through his hair to slick it back and out of his face, droplets of water streaming down his temples towards his chin. His cheeks are still rounded with baby fat where Strohl’s had grown angled and sharp, flushed pink from the heat of the bath. It’s a pretty shade on his copper skin. All of him is just that: pretty . There aren't many other words Strohl can think of at this moment, addled by the bath’s steam and the boy in front of him.
Will opens his eyes and gives a sheepish little smile. “Sorry. I figured we’d save water this way, but it’s a smaller tub than I thought.”
“That’s alright,” Strohl says, a little too quickly, “I appreciate the company.”
His bathmate’s smile turns warm. He scoops a bit of water into his palms and splashes it onto his face, using the excess on his hair. Droplets bead along his eyelashes, dripping onto his cheek towards his lips. Strohl’s mouth suddenly feels dry.
Will regards Strohl from the corner of his eye. “You can ask about it, you know.”
“About what?”
“My anatomy,” answers Will, chuckling when Strohl turns to him with cheeks flushed red as a ruby, “I noticed you staring. It’s alright, it really doesn’t bother me.”
Strohl clears his throat. Tries and fails to think of something to say because, well. He isn’t sure what to ask and how to go about asking it. Things like bodies and gender and sexuality aren’t things that his parents necessarily spoke much to him of— though, it wasn’t as if they had much chance to. Sure, talks of future betrothals were brought up here and there, but he was still a child without a clue of political marriages and his parents hadn’t wanted him to worry when there was nothing to worry about. It wasn’t until he was well into his teenage years that he learned just what went on in the marriage bed and, more often than not, outside of it.
He’s had plenty of time to learn his own likes, as well. How fortunate that they all managed to manifest in the boy sitting across from him in this tiny bathtub. How Strohl would reject dozens of the most promising betrothals for Will to just glance his way.
“Forgive me for staring,” he says, a little ashamed that he was caught, “I’ve just never seen a body like yours. Not to say I’ve seen many, but… you’re unlike any man I’ve seen in passing.”
Beautiful, he wants to say. You’re beautiful and unlike anything I’ve ever seen, but he doesn’t quite have the courage to say any of that. Not outright. Not while they’re in the bath.
“And you are a—” Strohl tries to work through the mess of words in his mouth to sound somewhat coherent, “That is to say, we’ve been calling you a boy this whole time, but if that isn’t what you—”
Will laughs again, setting a hand atop Strohl’s to calm his floundering. “I am. Don’t worry. You all haven’t done anything to offend me.”
His touch is soft, fingers slick and slightly pruned from the water. Strohl suppresses a delighted shiver at the contact, willing himself to calm down. He didn’t think he’d been this deprived of touch.
And he has to control the disappointment that bleeds through his chest when Will pulls his hand back. They’re quiet for a few moments, as Will’s browns seem to knit together in thought.
“I guess you can say I can do both what a woman and man can do. Create life and end it,” Will says slowly, cupping water into his palms just to let it drip between his fingers, “Though, not to say women can’t end life just as men can. Hulkenberg has no problems there.”
Strohl can’t help the huff that leaves his lips. “Especially when she's hungry.”
It dispels the tense atmosphere somewhat. Will gives a little laugh before hugging his knees close to his chest, a wistful look taking over his features. His eyes are faraway as he says, “I knew I was different as a kid. My parents knew, too, but they never forced me to go one way or another. I think they hoped I'd find the answer on my own.” He sighs, and it is a soft and rueful sound. “At least— I think they did. My childhood is a bit fuzzy. But I can’t help but wonder what they might have thought.”
Strohl wants to reach out and touch. Water keeps dripping from his hair onto his cheek and he wants to lean over and brush them away like unshed tears. He does lean forward, but he keeps his hands to himself as he says, “I think they would have been proud of you.”
Gold and sapphire meet onyx and Strohl’s heart seems to trip over itself. Will’s eyes are as soft as the curve of his lips. “You think so?”
“Of course. An elda with a real shot at the throne? It’s unthinkable. Impossible, even.” And a million other things, Strohl thinks. Admirable. Courageous. Inspiring. So many words come to mind and he cannot possibly put them all into words so easily. There aren't enough words in any language to describe just what Will is. How important he is to so many people— to Strohl .
His voice is quiet as his thoughts continue to race through his mind, unable to pin down what he wants to say. “And yet, here you are.” With me, he doesn’t say. “Someone so unflinching in the face of danger, loyal in their resolve to the people. You’re extraordinary.”
Perhaps it’s a trick of the dim lighting in the washroom, but Will’s cheeks seem to flush a deeper shade of rose. Strohl’s own heartbeat echoes loud in his ears, afraid of the things he wants to say and nearly says, words sitting on the tip of his tongue waiting for the chance to leap out and ruin this fragile little moment. It isn’t often that Will talks about himself, and it isn’t often Strohl gets the opportunity to listen instead of weep over his woes.
“No one’s ever…” Will’s voice trails off into a murmur so soft Strohl can’t hear it. He shakes his head, a smile tugging at his lips again. A simple pull of lips and yet it looks so perfectly in place on his face. Were it anyone else, it would pale in comparison. “I wouldn’t have pinned you for a sweet talker, Strohl.”
“I’m not,” Strohl says quickly, “Really, I— I’m not good with words. You’ve no idea the trouble I’ve gotten into because of it. I always wind up saying more than I ought to.”
“I’ve noticed,” says Will, laughing again and the sound is sweeter than wedding bells as it rings in Strohl’s ears, “but I like that about you. You’re not afraid to speak your mind, or speak up for others. It’s kind of… princely about you.”
Princely . Strohl could laugh if he had the mind or mouth to. If Will thinks him princely, he certainly didn’t feel princely. He feels closer to a princess pining for her love, sighing into her pillow every night.
“It’s only because I have the privilege of being able to speak out of turn,” says Strohl, “Were I part of a different tribe, I wonder if I’d be as bold as I am.”
Will hums, settling his cheek against his knee. His head is at an angle and the way he looks at Strohl is not unlike how a dog would regard their owner, eyes warm and head tilted to the side. “I wonder if I’d be different if I were clemar. D’you think we still would have been friends like this?”
God. God . He flounders for something to say. They would be, but had Will been born into a noble family like his own, had they been so blessed as to have been raised in the same village… there’s no doubt in his mind. They’d be married. Betrothed and promised from a young age because Strohl would be certain— is certain, even now, under their present circumstances— these feelings are real. They always would be.
But he doesn’t open his mouth and say any of this. This isn’t the time, he tells himself. This isn’t the proper place, they weren’t in the proper state, Will is naked and sitting across from him and that’s no state for anyone to to receive a declaration of love, let alone a marriage proposal. And that just makes Strohl think of Will dressed in white, an altar, a small ceremony, or as big as Will wanted, anything, anything he wanted, so long as he said I do, of course I do.
“Yes,” Strohl manages after a few moments, banishing any and all thought of Will in a white veil from his mind for the time being, “Yes, I think we’d be close. As close as we are now.”
Or closer, he thinks, much, much closer. Sharing a surname sorts of close.
Will grins. “I think so, too. We make sense together, don’t you think?” He looks at the water thoughtfully, scooching back towards the edge of the tub to dunk his head completely. His hair sticks to his face and neck, eyes shining as he says, “We should finish up before Hulkenberg comes looking for us. She wanted to wash up, too.”
Strohl agrees a little too enthusiastically. Their knees knock together and Will laughs again, saying something about convincing Neuras to get a bigger tub. Had Will said that ten minutes ago, Strohl would have agreed in a heartbeat. A tub fit for a future king, he would have said. As big as a lake.
But with soap bubbles clinging to Will’s skin, sitting only a foot away— well. Well . Maybe this tub isn’t so small.