For Sinric

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan's room is almost pathologically neat, the bed made and everything in its place.

He stands aside to let Sinric in, the bathroom door standing open to reveal the huge sunken bath inside.

Comments

[athelstanthescribe]

"We always have the bubbles." He indicates a row of bottles lined along the edge of the bath as he slips in. "Choose the one you like best, Sinric."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Bubbles are fun," Ragnar says. "It's like pour-in soap, too."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric beams at being treated like such a guest and toys with the bottles, testing the scent of each. He chooses one of a yellow colour that smells warmly of honey and oranges and nutmeg. "This one, I think." He hands it to Athelstan to put in, not knowing how much to use and inadvertently brushed against Ragnar. Honestly.

[athelstanthescribe]

Of course it was inadvertent.

Athelstan pours in a measured but generous amount, enough to send the scent all through the room without making so many bubbles they can't see each other.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Like warm soft clouds," Ragnar says.

Nobody has ever told him that a bubble bath isn't manly, and it definitely is fun!

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric, who has never cared about unmanliness in his life, giggles joyously and scoops up handfuls of bubbles. "Wonderful!" His youth shines through in that moment, an innocence rarely seen in him.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan reaches out without thinking to put an arm around Sinric, not sexual for that moment, just warm.

"And they won't all vanish for hours."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar scoops up a handful of foam and daubs it on Sinric's nose, grinning.

"Yes!"

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric leans into Athelstan, loving the feel of wet, clean skin and warmth. He giggles at Ragnar's foamy bop and rubs his nose like a rabbit.

He returns the favour, using the bubbles to draw a pattern across Ragnar's chest.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan grins and lounges in the water, watching them.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar chuckles, scooping up more foam to rub over Sinric's shoulders.

"We might even get into the water," he says. "Everything is full of bubbles!"

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric smiles and lets himself sink into the foam and the warm water. He ducks beneath the bubbles to wet his head, water and bubbles flowing down his golden hair as he rises like some lost Roman god or goddess of beauty. He sighs with the simple pleasure of being warm and clean, and being able to take his time about it.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan smiles at him.

"Surely they let you bathe in Constantinople?"

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar sprawls in the water with them.

Luckily, the bath is large enough for all of them lolling about like this.

"But they have no nice-smelling bubble baths in Miklagard, I am sure!" he says, smiling.

He suspects that Sinric can rarely bathe in peace, though, being just one of many pleasure-slaves of the emperor.

"Shall I wash your hair, Oriens? Athelstan can attest that I know how to do it."

[thewidewideworld]

"We have a bath house in the eunuch's quarters. Not a very big one. Just enough for two or three. But the water is cold unless we heat it ourselves. It's for cleansing ourselves, not for luxuriating in. The water is only changed once every few days. Better to wash in a bucket first. Easier to heat up."

"And bubbles, not like this." He smiles to Ragnar. "I'd like that very much. I confess, I'm a little vain about my hair."

[athelstanthescribe]

"Ragnar is very good at it", Athelstan promises. "You'll enjoy it."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Come here," Ragnar says, opening his arms to Sinric.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric goes to him gladly, a soft smile on his lips. "I have no doubt I would enjoy anything Earl Ragnar wishes to do for me." He presses himself to Ragnar's chest like a fluttering bird being held.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan leans back and watches him.

"Or to you", he murmurs, "with your consent."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Lie back over my arm," Ragnar says, offering a muscular left arm for Sinric to rest against. "Then your hair can trail into the water."

He's done this for Athelstan, and many, many times for Lagertha -- as she has for him. Aslaug has her maids, of course.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric does so, lithe and light as a bird, his hair flowing like a waterfall. "I place myself in your hand, lord earl."

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan smiles and makes his way over to lean against the wall near them.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

Ragnar grins, takes a handful of foam, and daubs it on Athelstan's chest, just because he can and it's handy.

Then, he starts running his fingers gently through Sinric's hair, smoothing and stroking and loosening any tangles he may find, and softly rubbing his scalp.

It comes all back to him very easily.

He sometimes misses the times when Lagertha and he did these things together, when he washed his own clothes, or heated the bath water for the entire family.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric's eyes slip closed, enjoying the feeling so very much. He moans softly, involuntarily. Pleasure sometimes isn't sexual. It just is.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan reaches to run his hand down Sinric's side, only touching, no pressure for anything.