midnightdiddle

River's Side

Richard teaches Alec to swim in the late springtime, far down the course of the river. Alec seems to have the proclivity to sink like a stone, and Richard finds that he spends more time dragging Alec back onto the riverbanks than not. Alec, though, keeps plunging into the river, his shoulders tense and mouth stubborn, and eyes a little desperate. Richard wonders if Alec is waiting for the moment Richard's too slow, or the river is too fast, and the thought is one that Richard doesn't care to think about.

"It's cold," Alec complains, "and I'm wet." His hair is growing out again, and it sticks to his pale cheeks in dark curls. Richard scrubs his hand through his own hair, shaking away the dripping water.

"It's a river, Alec."

"This is stupid," Alec continues with the same stubborn mouth. "I don't care if I can swim or not." He's already throwing himself back into the water, though, the current catching his long, thin limbs.

"I do," Richard says, just loud enough that Alec can hear him, and he wants to smile to himself when Alec pointedly ignores him, splashing the river water about madly with his flailing arms.

"I don't know why," Alec spits out with a mouth of river water, "I need to learn how to swim. I won't ever have any need."

"Perhaps," Richard says mildly, his hands around Alec's waist and shoulders as he slowly swims them closer to the shore, "you'll fall from a lord's barge someday."

Alec's look is furious, and as soon as his feet can reach ground, he's off, wading through the water with single-minded rage. Richard swims a bit further, until his feet can touch the rocky bottom, too, and then he follows. By the time he catches up, Alec is yanking on his boots, and Richard puts out a hand to help steady Alec when the boy seems in danger of tipping over. Alec hisses something under his breath, and Richard steps a bit closer.

"You're shivering," he says, pulling his hand away when Alec flicks his hair contemptuously, splattering Richard with cold water droplets.

"Of course I'm shivering, Richard, it's damned cold." Alec takes a few steps away, pointedly turning his back, and Richard pulls on his boots quickly.

"We could stop by Rosalie's," Richard offers, hopping on one foot as he fastens his second boot. "Or--"

"Why," Alec interrupts, shoulders set with nervous tension, "would I care to stop somewhere? Perhaps, Richard, you should take some sort of accountability for your actions."

"Alec?"

"Perhaps, Richard," Alec says, and his voice trips over Richard's name like he's drunk, hot and needy in Richard's bed. Richard closes his eyes, tries to count and think and breathe, and fails spectacularly.

"Perhaps, Richard, you should warm me up yourself."