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Fic for Lisa: show me the meaning
May. 2nd, 2012 01:06 amThere's no doubt about it, Cedric thinks, pulling his finger out of the water with a disapproving frown. The bathwater is definitely cold. Maybe it helps Howard forget, to have another uncomfortable sensation pressing in on him.
But this can't possibly be healthy. As irrational as it is, Cedric worries Howard might catch a cold. It's time to take care of him.
Howard opens his eyes then. It had been a quiet, calm session of ignoring the worst. After all this time, all his practice at it, he was more than prepared to file the incident away and keep on going. No one lasted long in the FAYZ without that skill. It was his failsafe: whatever happened, it could be overcome by ignoring. Pure willpower could push the bad away.
That was the idea, at least.
But he knows that look in Cedric's eye. The taller boy is staring down at Howard lovingly, worriedly, and 'I'm going to play caretaker tonight regardless of what you think'-ly. And as overbearing as that can get sometimes, there isn't much harm in letting Cedric do it at times like this. It means someone else is doing the heavy lifting.
In this case, Cedric is going to literally lift some heavy weight. He rolls up his sleeves, plunges his arms into the bath, and pulls a dripping Howard up against his chest. Of course, Cedric realizes his mistake soon enough: he's forgotten a towel. Once Howard's arms are secure around Cedric's neck, Cedric wanders over to the wall cabinet, standing on his toes to reach the towels. He has to pull it down with his teeth, but luckily for them it falls across Howard's lap. Perfect.
They walk into the bedroom where Cedric lays Howard on the bed, handling him more gently than glass at this point. By the way Cedric's arms shake, Howard can see that he's still affected and will be for a while. Another child losing their dad---it's all too familiar to both of them.
That's why they have to overcome it and lock it away.
Cedric's first instinct is protective. He lies close to Howard, reaching over to rub warmth into his arms. His fingers circle again and again, tracing lines on the skin while his palms press. Cedric locks his gaze with Howard's, silently willing him to go along with it. Relax. Close his eyes.
By some miracle, Howard does---though in his opinion, it's really not a miracle at all. Cedric provides warmth through touch, oxytocin becomes active, stress goes down. Howard will concede the point that it's miraculous that he's reached a stage where touch like this can be welcome, though.
When Howard's arms are warm enough, Cedric shifts his focus to easing the pain in them. What Howard did today---trying to save a life---is some arm stress, something Cedric's seen before, especially from Beaters. It's almost as if Cedric's back in the locker room, caring for another player after a hard defeat on the field.
If only things could be that simple again. If only it was just the silly old Quidditch Cup at stake when they lost.
As he reflects on this, Cedric's touches become firmer. He's working deeper down, doing his very best to heal what he can. And yet he hasn't looked at Howard's face since starting, for fear that he might cry. Nothing will bring that father back, and it tears Cedric up that he can't, but...he can try to protect what he has now.
Even though he's failed at that several times as well.
Howard appreciates the help. As long as Cedric's handling this, Howard doesn't have to think, just feel. It's welcome relief that would be even more welcome if Cedric wasn't already ruining it.
It's all a lie. Howard's known Cedric long enough to feel out his boyfriend's distress, and it's right there---his hands shake, he makes small noises, and there's a meltdown imminent. Howard should run. Earlier, he might have.
"You're an idiot sometimes," Howard whispers. That gets Cedric's attention. His hands stop and his eyes drift up to Howard's face.
"You heard me. You're falling apart. Just get it over with already."
Cedric stutters. It stings because he knows it's true. There's just no way to keep himself glued together when that father and daughter are there every time he closes his eyes. "Not until I help you."
“Five minutes.”
“Got it.”
And they understand each other by now. Cedric knows full well that Howard’s right, that he’s breaking. But he’s also more stubborn than a cat in pursuit of some particularly tasty tuna sometimes. Cedric can keep going, keep fixing until he falls apart himself.
Sure enough, Howard sees the signs. He can almost set his watch to them. Cedric’s biting his lip, looking down at Howard with that worried expression he saves for their worst nights---when they’re not sure if they’ll make it out alive. They’ve been much rarer since arriving here, thankfully, and yet here it is.
Howard knows Cedric’s still woefully naïve at times. It’s part of his appeal, but also a stumbling block between them. How can Cedric fathom the worst of the world’s cruelties? Maybe he doesn’t have to, most of the time, but they can’t even escape the jaws of death here.
Five minutes pass. Time’s up.
Howard reaches for Cedric’s back, pulling him down onto the bed. Cedric does nothing to resist. All the fight is gone. He allows Howard to pull his damp shirt over his head. It winds up in a corner, forgotten until one of the cats comes to investigate. It will be a perfect place to nestle when it’s dry, but they leave it alone for now.
Back on the bed, Cedric lands on his side in Howard’s arms, Howard’s leg tossed between his. Cedric scoots even closer, his hands spread over Howard’s back. He flips them then, lying on his back and dragging Howard onto his chest. It’s the security blanket position. Howard remembers it well. It’s perfect for warmth, closeness, and for Cedric to keep his tears from soaking Howard’s shoulder. They glide over his temples instead, leaving two lines leading from Cedric’s head to the pillow.
It’s an unspoken agreement between them that they let the tears flow. Considering all they’ve been through, it’s perfectly justified every now and then. Howard reacts by kissing the base of Cedric’s neck, then tucking his head into the spot. His hands part ways: one drifts up to Cedric’s hair, and the other plucks up a purring bundle of fur. It’s Emergency Rations, of course, looking for some warm humans to burrow under.
She sits at their side, tail flicking across the humans’ ribcages. That manages to draw a muffled laugh from Cedric.
“This is hardly the time, Spot.”
“Emergency Rations. And it’s always time for cats. They didn’t teach you that yet?”
“I’m learning. All right, she can stay.”
Emergency Rations purrs, vibrating in that pleased cat way---perhaps in response, but more likely because both humans are giving her attention. Howard and Cedric’s hands meet over her back, where they link.
As long as they’re holding each other, they’re not going anywhere. Their hearts beat, pulsing in their pressed-together chests. If they close their eyes, they can feel it---proof enough that they’re all right. Or they will be.
But this can't possibly be healthy. As irrational as it is, Cedric worries Howard might catch a cold. It's time to take care of him.
Howard opens his eyes then. It had been a quiet, calm session of ignoring the worst. After all this time, all his practice at it, he was more than prepared to file the incident away and keep on going. No one lasted long in the FAYZ without that skill. It was his failsafe: whatever happened, it could be overcome by ignoring. Pure willpower could push the bad away.
That was the idea, at least.
But he knows that look in Cedric's eye. The taller boy is staring down at Howard lovingly, worriedly, and 'I'm going to play caretaker tonight regardless of what you think'-ly. And as overbearing as that can get sometimes, there isn't much harm in letting Cedric do it at times like this. It means someone else is doing the heavy lifting.
In this case, Cedric is going to literally lift some heavy weight. He rolls up his sleeves, plunges his arms into the bath, and pulls a dripping Howard up against his chest. Of course, Cedric realizes his mistake soon enough: he's forgotten a towel. Once Howard's arms are secure around Cedric's neck, Cedric wanders over to the wall cabinet, standing on his toes to reach the towels. He has to pull it down with his teeth, but luckily for them it falls across Howard's lap. Perfect.
They walk into the bedroom where Cedric lays Howard on the bed, handling him more gently than glass at this point. By the way Cedric's arms shake, Howard can see that he's still affected and will be for a while. Another child losing their dad---it's all too familiar to both of them.
That's why they have to overcome it and lock it away.
Cedric's first instinct is protective. He lies close to Howard, reaching over to rub warmth into his arms. His fingers circle again and again, tracing lines on the skin while his palms press. Cedric locks his gaze with Howard's, silently willing him to go along with it. Relax. Close his eyes.
By some miracle, Howard does---though in his opinion, it's really not a miracle at all. Cedric provides warmth through touch, oxytocin becomes active, stress goes down. Howard will concede the point that it's miraculous that he's reached a stage where touch like this can be welcome, though.
When Howard's arms are warm enough, Cedric shifts his focus to easing the pain in them. What Howard did today---trying to save a life---is some arm stress, something Cedric's seen before, especially from Beaters. It's almost as if Cedric's back in the locker room, caring for another player after a hard defeat on the field.
If only things could be that simple again. If only it was just the silly old Quidditch Cup at stake when they lost.
As he reflects on this, Cedric's touches become firmer. He's working deeper down, doing his very best to heal what he can. And yet he hasn't looked at Howard's face since starting, for fear that he might cry. Nothing will bring that father back, and it tears Cedric up that he can't, but...he can try to protect what he has now.
Even though he's failed at that several times as well.
Howard appreciates the help. As long as Cedric's handling this, Howard doesn't have to think, just feel. It's welcome relief that would be even more welcome if Cedric wasn't already ruining it.
It's all a lie. Howard's known Cedric long enough to feel out his boyfriend's distress, and it's right there---his hands shake, he makes small noises, and there's a meltdown imminent. Howard should run. Earlier, he might have.
"You're an idiot sometimes," Howard whispers. That gets Cedric's attention. His hands stop and his eyes drift up to Howard's face.
"You heard me. You're falling apart. Just get it over with already."
Cedric stutters. It stings because he knows it's true. There's just no way to keep himself glued together when that father and daughter are there every time he closes his eyes. "Not until I help you."
“Five minutes.”
“Got it.”
And they understand each other by now. Cedric knows full well that Howard’s right, that he’s breaking. But he’s also more stubborn than a cat in pursuit of some particularly tasty tuna sometimes. Cedric can keep going, keep fixing until he falls apart himself.
Sure enough, Howard sees the signs. He can almost set his watch to them. Cedric’s biting his lip, looking down at Howard with that worried expression he saves for their worst nights---when they’re not sure if they’ll make it out alive. They’ve been much rarer since arriving here, thankfully, and yet here it is.
Howard knows Cedric’s still woefully naïve at times. It’s part of his appeal, but also a stumbling block between them. How can Cedric fathom the worst of the world’s cruelties? Maybe he doesn’t have to, most of the time, but they can’t even escape the jaws of death here.
Five minutes pass. Time’s up.
Howard reaches for Cedric’s back, pulling him down onto the bed. Cedric does nothing to resist. All the fight is gone. He allows Howard to pull his damp shirt over his head. It winds up in a corner, forgotten until one of the cats comes to investigate. It will be a perfect place to nestle when it’s dry, but they leave it alone for now.
Back on the bed, Cedric lands on his side in Howard’s arms, Howard’s leg tossed between his. Cedric scoots even closer, his hands spread over Howard’s back. He flips them then, lying on his back and dragging Howard onto his chest. It’s the security blanket position. Howard remembers it well. It’s perfect for warmth, closeness, and for Cedric to keep his tears from soaking Howard’s shoulder. They glide over his temples instead, leaving two lines leading from Cedric’s head to the pillow.
It’s an unspoken agreement between them that they let the tears flow. Considering all they’ve been through, it’s perfectly justified every now and then. Howard reacts by kissing the base of Cedric’s neck, then tucking his head into the spot. His hands part ways: one drifts up to Cedric’s hair, and the other plucks up a purring bundle of fur. It’s Emergency Rations, of course, looking for some warm humans to burrow under.
She sits at their side, tail flicking across the humans’ ribcages. That manages to draw a muffled laugh from Cedric.
“This is hardly the time, Spot.”
“Emergency Rations. And it’s always time for cats. They didn’t teach you that yet?”
“I’m learning. All right, she can stay.”
Emergency Rations purrs, vibrating in that pleased cat way---perhaps in response, but more likely because both humans are giving her attention. Howard and Cedric’s hands meet over her back, where they link.
As long as they’re holding each other, they’re not going anywhere. Their hearts beat, pulsing in their pressed-together chests. If they close their eyes, they can feel it---proof enough that they’re all right. Or they will be.
