[Closed, Mature] I will not ask you

[Aremu Ediwo]

Early Evening, Hamis 32, 2720
The Ibutatu House, Isla Dzum

Aremu laughed, a little, unexpectedly, when Aurelie pointed out she didn’t have very much hair. The right amount, he wanted to say – it suits you – it’d be strange, he wanted to say, to have too much of it between us. She was smiling up at him, her wet hand leaving traces of damp as she drew it along his arm, and he leaned down instead and kissed her, his arm coming around to hold her against him.

Aremu wasn’t sure what he’d expected, exactly. He enjoyed it, Aurelie’s squirms and little sighs as he massaged the shampoo into her scalp, fingers circling slowly and carefully beneath her fine hair. She didn’t have much in the way of knots – he wasn’t sure what he’d expected, exactly – and he could run his fingers all the way through, careful and easy, without fear of pulling her hair out.

All the while, he kept his right arm out of the way; he didn’t use it, not to balance or hold, not here any more than he did when they were in bed together. It was easier, he thought, to keep it well out of the way, to avoid the temptation to rest it against her, and he tried not to think more on it than that.

Once they’d rinsed the last of it from her scalp, Aremu set to work diligently on the rest of her, her back first, everywhere he could reach with the washcloth, soaping her up and rinsing her clean. When he couldn’t take it any longer, when he thought there couldn’t be any grime left on her from the trip to the city, he set the washcloth aside and leaned down and kissed her once more; his hand slid over her and curled around her side, the light pressure of his arm just enough to hold her in place.

He kissed her again, and again once more; he kissed her as if he could make up for all the time their lips had held apart, this little while, though he’d enjoyed all the washing for its own sake, and regretted it not at all. His hand crept lower, tracing over her hip; his thumb settled into the crevice of it, stroking delicately over the smooth soft skin there.

The water was growing cold, though it wasn’t there yet; Aurelie shifted, squirmed against him, and Aremu let out a choked noise into her mouth, his eyelids fluttering. He kissed her again, all the more firmly, and his fingers crept a little lower – slow, as slowly as he always did.

He almost didn’t break the kiss to ask, this time, though he thought of it; he wanted, Aremu thought, to trust her to tell him, to stop him. And then he thought how foolish that was, and he stopped, instead, fingers hovering over her skin, and kissed her again. “May I?” Aremu asked, looking down at her, smiling. If he’d had another hand, he thought, he’d have brushed the damp hair from her face; instead, he could only admire the soft red strands of it against her freckled cheek, and for once he couldn’t quite mind it.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Hamis 32, 2720 - Evening | The Ibutatu House, Isla Dzum

Making him laugh, especially like that, like it was a surprise to be doing so, was proving to be an addictive kind of experience. Aurelie wasn't funny, as far as she knew; some people laughed at some of her jokes, but that was hardly enough to consider it a quality she possessed. Aremu being one of them was unexpected and absurdly gratifying. He hadn't been, when they met—it had hardly been the circumstance, of course. Neither of them had been, when she saw him again not two weeks ago.

(Though, she remembered from time to time, he had smiled at her still, despite everything. Despite her strong natural efforts towards preventing him from doing so, asking all kinds of questions she ought to have left well enough alone. And he'd smiled at her still, and was doing it now.)

It was enough to make her wish rather fervently that she were more naturally inclined to be the joking type. Ah, well. She could only do her best, even though it wasn't nearly enough. It worked some of the time, which was all she could ever ask for.

Aurelie didn't think she would have said she had a firm picture of how well the practical aspects of washing would go with other, less practical activities. One surely had to be sacrificed in favor of the other. She was a bit right, and she was, rather blessedly, mostly quite wrong. The temperature of the water hardly mattered—not when the trail of his hand and each kiss warmed her thoroughly enough in her very blood that it could have been cold as Brunnhold in the depths of Ophus and she wouldn't have minded. At least no more than she minded the damp cling of her now-clean hair on her own face, which was very little indeed.

"Yes," she said—or sighed, really—without much thinking on it. "I— Y-you don't have to, ah... Not that I mind, really, er, it's just that you..." It was always yes; she couldn't think of an instance in which it would be otherwise. She had a nervous temperament, and she did know better—but it was yes, every time, to every question.

It was her answer to a lot of non-questions, also; the water wasn't warm at all by the time they got out of it. And she hadn't minded after all; there was warmth enough in her and between them to make up for it. She didn't quite know how she would be able to take a bath again without thinking about it, but—that was fine, too. It was also a problem to contemplate at a later date; they'd not had dinner yet, either of them, and Aurelie was looking forward to it. More, she thought with a twist, than she should.

"How are you—how is your head?" The question was sudden, floating into her mind somewhere between brushing out her hair (a little smile on her face she couldn't seem to rid herself of) and dressing again in clean clothes. It was an easier question to ask, of the many she might have. Of the many she knew she'd have to, eventually. Just this one moment, she told herself, just this one—she could spoil another one with her worries and her questions, couldn't she?

[Aremu Ediwo]

Evening, Hamis 32, 2720
The Ibutatu House, Isla Dzum

Aremu was dripping wet as he climbed out of the bathtub; the water was more than a little cool, by now, and he reached for a towel, rubbing himself dry and wrapping it around his waist. He was smiling, all of him easy and relaxed, scrubbed clean and cheerful about it. If the tiles around the tub were damp, Aremu thought, it was a problem for tomorrow.

He watched Aurelie brush her hair for a few moments, smiling as she dragged the brush through the short, soft strands. The question, when it came, caught him by surprise; Aremu blinked. Reflexively, his left hand came up towards his head, and stopped shy of the damp skin, the bandage he didn’t quite still need long since peeled away.

There was – as had been his constant companion these last days – a low, dull ache somewhere in the back of his head. It wasn’t, though, the sharp, throbbing pain of earlier in the day; he wasn’t dizzy or nauseous, and if anything he felt more energized than earlier, in an easy, boneless way that he knew well.

“Much better,” Aremu said, smiling a little still. He brushed Aurelie’s cheek lightly with his hand, unsure – his fingers lingered for a moment. “I’ll go get something to wear,” Aremu said, after a moment.

He went out of the bathroom, and up the stairs to the attic. It hadn’t been long since he’d last slept there, really; it felt, Aremu thought, uneasily, like an oddly long time. He went to his desk, standing at it for a moment; he went past it, standing at the edge of the bed where he’d slept these last years, and on and off for the ones before. He frowned, glancing up from it and out the window, where stars gleamed in the sky.

She’ll go, Aremu thought, unexpectedly, directly. He didn’t know how long it had crept around the edges of his thoughts, but he turned, finally, and faced it head on. He stood there, looking back down at the bed, feeling a sudden tightness in his chest, creeping up into his throat. She’ll go, and you’ll be alone, here, again, you selfish fool. He swallowed; he sat down on the edge of his chair, still wearing nothing more than the towel around his waist; he glanced at the spec from the attic, rubbing his thumb down the side of the frame.

Then, clearing his throat, Aremu got up; he went and pulled on loose, comfortable trousers, and a lightweight shirt, long-sleeved – tailored, like most of those he wore on the island, to just cover his wrist. He patted his head dry, lightly and gingerly, and took the stairs back down two at a time, hanging the towel up to let it dry.

“Are you hungry?” Aremu asked Aurelie, smiling; if it didn’t feel as easy as it had, moments ago, he hoped it still looked the same. He didn’t think he needed to answer the question, by now; surely she had sorted he was always hungry. For once, after these last few days, he felt it. “What sounds good for dinner?”

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Hamis 32, 2720 - Evening | The Ibutatu House, Isla Dzum

The door clicked shut after Aremu left. Aurelie paused in her fussing with her hair and looked at it. She could hear his footsteps on the stairs leading up to the attic, and a little of the creaking of the boards above. She wondered a moment if—if she ought to ask if he meant to stay with her again. The disappointment would be hard to keep from her face if he said no; the thought sat with her uneasily. It had only been a few days, really—she shouldn't be so used to it.

Aurelie set the brush down and took a breath. She shouldn't be used to any of this. Not to this house, to the degree of routine she was starting to settle into, and especially not to Aremu's company. She was only a guest, and a dubiously allowable one at that. Guests had to leave, eventually, and go back to... Aurelie frowned. The problem was, she had nowhere else to go.

No. No that wasn't the problem—the problem was she didn't want to go anywhere else. Thinking about the inevitability of the day when Aremu would stop wanting to play house with her was a distraction from the simple fact that she didn't want to leave. Not even in those moments when the oddest feeling of homesickness would wash over her, a tide of longing she couldn't seem to place. It wasn't a longing for Brunnhold, or even for Briarwood Hall, but something more elusive still; she tried not to think about it, really.

Foolish, stupid creature. Aurelie turned, looking at herself in the mirror—her unremarkable face framed as it was by equally unremarkable short hair, freckled and familiar—until she was certain that nothing was in too much disarray. Not in her dress or face, at least. There was nothing she could do about the rest of her. She had just reached the top of the stairs when she heard Aremu behind her; Aurelie waited, a smile spreading across her face at the sight of him. Just like it always seemed to, really.

"I am," she admitted, starting down the stairs now. She didn't bother to ask if he was—she had rather come to the conclusion that there was no instance in which the answer was not "yes", excepting of course in dire circumstances. Like, for example, severe head injury. "I was maybe thinking we could try to figure out the coconut, from lunch...? Er, that is, if you want to so soon—I was, ah. I was just thinking that it might be good to try while it's still fresh in our minds... Of course, we should have something else, too."

She didn't glance at the things they'd abandoned in haste when they walked through the door, and felt only the slightest tug of responsibility passing by them. Dinner was more important, after all. Not to mention more fun than tidying up. Aurelie could admit that much to herself, at least—it was just the littlest bit selfish of her to think of dinner and ignore putting things away for now.

[Aremu Ediwo]

Evening, Hamis 32, 2720
The Ibutatu House, Isla Dzum

Aremu followed Aurelie down the stairs, her head damp and her hair neatly brushed. Rueful, he thought to himself that he would like nothing so much as to run his fingers through it again. He didn’t suppose - he wasn’t sure, he thought uneasily, if after their bath she would want him in her bedroom. He wasn’t sure either quite how to ask. It was hard not to think that she might like some time apart from him, that he might be - intruding, if he asked to share her bed again.

Just because she hadn’t seemed to feel that way before, Aremu thought, didn’t mean she wouldn’t now. After all, they were only... there wasn’t, he thought, much only about it for him, but that seemed beside the point.

“That sounds good,” Aremu said. “Let’s see - I think we’ll need coconut, of course, ginger, chilies, sugar, tamarind paste... we can start there and see what it’s missing.” He grinned at her.

“Do you want it over vegetables?” Aremu asked, thinking of the steamed green beans and other vegetables they had eaten the coconut topping with. He went into the pantry and came out with a small hairy coconut tucked beneath his arm; he set it on the counter, took out the heavy machete they used for such, and brought it cleanly through with an even stroke, his right wrist holding the coconut in place. He let the halves fall open, setting the machete aside.

It had taken him some practice, at first, to get the knack of it one handed. Before, he might have said he needed two hands to cut a coconut, to stabilize it with one and cut with the other. It wasn’t true; he supposed he couldn’t have known that. One didn’t know, he thought, what one could do without until there was no choice.

He couldn’t quite bring himself to look at Aurelie for a long moment, and he couldn’t have said why. It wasn’t shame; he wasn’t ashamed of cutting the coconut one handed before her, and just then he didn’t feel sorry for what he lacked, not in particular. He couldn’t look at it too directly, what he did feel; he didn’t seem to be able to.

“There’s a sort of wheat vegetable, ah, pancake I don’t think you’ve had yet,” Aremu suggested, turning and smiling at Aurelie, more easily than he had expected. He was tired, he thought, more tired than he had realized; it had caught up with him, after the bath. “We could make that with fried eggs, and the vegetables with coconut. How does that sound?”

If he’d been thinking, Aremu thought, he could have gotten fish or chicken for them at Western Port. Well, he had been thinking, but he had been thinking that he was tired - that he wanted to get Aurelie into the carriage. Selfish, he thought; he felt something right in the set of his cheeks and turned away, fetching down the wrinkled dried red chilies to begin making a paste of them.

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Hamis 32, 2720 - Evening | The Ibutatu House, Isla Dzum

It was an absurd thing to like, someone's efficiency with a kitchen machete, and yet Aurelie found herself admiring it anyway. Aremu had disappeared into the pantry and returned with a coconut, hairy and small and still strange for her to see like this. Just one stroke, neat and clean, and there it was in two halves. Was it hard to get used to, doing things like this? she'd almost wanted to ask, but held her tongue.

She had yet to figure out what to do in moments like these, where it seemed as if Aremu wasn't looking at her, or standing around her in a certain way, or touching her, because of a hand that wasn't there and she had never known him to have. To mention it seemed to be to point it out; to point it out seemed to defeat the purpose of his careful holding-away and not-quite-looking. But to say nothing seemed to silently confirm a discomfort she didn't have. No matter what, everything she could think of to do felt wrong.

If she looked at the feeling squarely, she knew it was just fear, masquerading as kindness and concern for Aremu's feelings. Knowing that brought her no closer to knowing what to do with it, of course. She supposed she could ask; he'd told her she could, when they'd first arrived. Not about this, though—at least she wasn't sure this was included, too. That had been about—about a life she couldn't truly picture well enough to form questions to ask of him. She could chase those thoughts around and around; she had now for weeks, and come no closer to any sort of conclusion. Being interrupted by a question, then, was a mercy, even if it wasn't intended as such. Aurelie looked up and smiled back, easy as anything.

"Hmm? Oh! That sounds—lovely, yes." Ninny, she scolded herself, but Aremu had already turned away to fetch down the chilies. For a moment more she lingered, watching. Then she shook herself, face just a bit warm. "I'll, ah, just get the other things from the pantry...?"

Aurelie took quick stock of what was already out, then disappeared into the pantry to get the rest. It was good, really, to have something to do, however briefly. To keep her from just standing about and watching uselessly, as she seemed so inclined to do at this moment. Which, really, she shouldn't be doing. No matter how pleasing the sight, she really should be... be useful.

"I don't think I've enjoyed watching someone else cook so much before," she blurted out before she could stop herself as she stood there. It was true, but also an absolutely foolish thing to say. It hadn't been what she'd meant to say at all—it had been tangled up in the thought process, of course, but not... Bells and chimes. "What should I help with...? I don't want to get in your way."

[Aremu Ediwo]

Evening, Hamis 32, 2720
The Ibutatu House, Isla Dzum

Aremu heard the sound of Aurelie’s footsteps behind him; he was already shifting one of the large flat pans on the stove to over the heat, and laying the chilis on to it to toast them – being careful, as always, of charring. He put the kettle on the heat as well. He went back to the coconuts, pouring the liquid out into a bowl and setting the halves down once more; he pressed the flesh with a fingertip, and found it soft enough to scoop with a spoon.

There were soft footsteps once more, a little whisper of sound.

Aurelie spoke, and Aremu held, very still, looking down at the coconut halves. He smiled, though it was heavy with guilt and other strange things, and sat uncomfortably in his chest. Selfish, he thought again, and it prickled at him – not the wanting her to stay, but behaving as if the inevitability of her not doing so was reason be cold.

Aremu turned, and smiled at her. The chilis crackled on the stove beside him, and there were the faint beginning sounds of water boiling; he wiped his hand clean of coconut milk and any leftover brush of chili, and extended it to her, holding with his hip half against the counter and waiting for her to come to him.

When she did, Aremu took her hand in his, fingers twining through hers and tugging her close against him, and leaned down to kiss her, softly and sweetly. Don’t go, he thought of saying, and he swallowed it and set it aside, and wondered if it were possible to say such a thing at all, with a kiss. If he said anything, with the soft brush of his lips, he hoped it was that he cared for her – that he was grateful – he didn’t know how to put it into words.

I’m tired, he wanted to say too, more than I realized; I’m sorry, Aurelie, I didn’t… she didn’t need to know, he thought, that; it should only worry her, or prompt apologies, and he didn’t need or want them.

“We’ve a few different things to start,” Aremu said, smiling more easily than he had. “The chilis should warm, and then we’ll put them in a bowl with some hot water and let them soak; that’ll become our chili paste. The coconut flesh needs to be scraped out and shredded; it’d be best to let it dry, but I don’t think we’ve the time. We might try cooking it lightly, or we can leave it raw and see how it goes,” he was grinning, a little more, looking down at her; it was comfortable, standing there with her tucked against him, her small body warm against his chest. Too comfortable, something in him knew, but he set it aside for a little longer.

“I should make the batter for the flatbread,” Aremu added. “It’s best with a mix of wheat and rice flour, and then a bit of yogurt, onions, green chilis, and spices, and should rest a bit before we start cooking.” His hand came up, his thumb tracing gently over her cheek.

“What do you want to do?” Aremu asked, looking down at her, and finding it very easy to smile still.