Joel returns to the bed with the night shirt in his hands and he offers it to Spencer before he pauses and then reaches down to unlace his boots. Eventually someone is going to come up to the room and check on them and he supposes he should lend some thought to what they might think when they see that Joel is still here, that he's on the bed with Spencer, that he hasn't left him to the care of the medics or the nursemaids. The thought of leaving Spencer now seems at once unbearable and like the best course of action, and Joel is genuinely torn. He thinks it would be best for them both if he didn't allow himself to give into what he knows is temptation and stay in Spencer's room, but he also doesn't like to think of how that might damage the connection they've begun to forge. Even if they are to remain only friends, Joel doesn't want Spencer thinking that he isn't wanted here at the palace or that he's not welcome. The reason he's here is because Joel cares for him and while the rest of the palace is happy enough to have him here, he knows they wouldn't protest if Joel were to suddenly send him away. But he doesn't want that. And he never wants Spencer to think that he would want anything like that, so once he's unlaced his boots, he kicks them off and slides onto the bed beside Spencer.
It's a large enough mattress that he can keep his distance without it being too obvious, but Joel can't seem to help himself. He shifts until he's leaning back against the pillows as well, his shoulder touching Spencer's, and even just that one single point of contact is enough. He can't allow himself anymore, not unless he wants to risk either pushing Spencer too hard or being caught in an extremely compromising position. Not that this isn't compromising enough in itself. The prince is currently reclining in the same bed as the man who's only just arrived at the palace after saving the prince's life. He knows how that sort of scenario might spiral out of control when it comes to the gossip mill and he knows he shouldn't risk such a thing, but here he is anyway, completely unable to talk himself out of being here. There will always be something to gossip about, something for the villagers to whisper about and while Joel has never done anything to play into this insatiable need to create some kind of dramatic situation, he's also never really done anything to stir their interest. Not until now.
He thinks maybe he should do what Spencer had done the day before, find a story to tell him, something to pass the time, but for all the books Joel has ever read, he finds he can't actually think of a single story to tell. There are too many options, too many stories he's read over the course of his life and he finds himself so nervous in this position that they're all jumbled up in his brain. One leads into another in a way he knows can't be possible and he's frowning up at the ceiling, trying to find a single thread in all the mess, one single story that he can tell to pass the time and keep Spencer entertained, but none will come to him. He tries to think of the stories his mother told him when he was a boy, the way she'd huddle in his bed with him just before he drifted off to sleep, the words she'd quietly speak and the melodic way her voice would lull and soothe him. She'd told so many tales that he knows there has to be one or two he can recall for Spencer in this situation, but none come to him.
There's only one thing that does. One thing she used to do for him and without giving it much thought, Joel takes a breath and finds himself singing. He isn't as talented a singer as his mother, his voice is low and rough and quiet, almost as if he's faintly embarrassed by the entire thing, but he remembers all the words of the song unlike all the stories he's trying to grasp, and that's something. It's one of his favourite songs, too, one that reminds him of his childhood, one that he's just always known, one that has always caught him with it's gentle, slightly melancholy words in a way he's never quite known how to describe. There's nothing sad about this moment, but it seems fitting all the same, even if his voice never gets any louder or any stronger. He isn't a singer, he isn't particularly talented, but he likes it anyway.
He likes it at the moment, anyway, and he wonders how much of that is due to Spencer.
He stumbles over a few of the words and laughs even as he sings, not as embarrassed by that as he would have thought he might be. When he finishes, when it's over and he's still looking up at the ceiling, he inches his fingers toward Spencer on the mattress and finds his hand, threading their fingers together, holding onto him. For some reason he can't quite look over at him, but his expression is light, slightly amused, even as he continues to look up at the ceiling. He truly doesn't know what's just come over him, why he would have thought to do that, but now that it's done, the words dying away in the empty, quiet room, he doesn't know if he needs a reason. He doesn't think Spencer will mind much.
Still, he says, "I couldn't think of a story to tell you." As if that will explain why he chose the song instead.
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Date: 2015-04-29 02:54 am (UTC)It's a large enough mattress that he can keep his distance without it being too obvious, but Joel can't seem to help himself. He shifts until he's leaning back against the pillows as well, his shoulder touching Spencer's, and even just that one single point of contact is enough. He can't allow himself anymore, not unless he wants to risk either pushing Spencer too hard or being caught in an extremely compromising position. Not that this isn't compromising enough in itself. The prince is currently reclining in the same bed as the man who's only just arrived at the palace after saving the prince's life. He knows how that sort of scenario might spiral out of control when it comes to the gossip mill and he knows he shouldn't risk such a thing, but here he is anyway, completely unable to talk himself out of being here. There will always be something to gossip about, something for the villagers to whisper about and while Joel has never done anything to play into this insatiable need to create some kind of dramatic situation, he's also never really done anything to stir their interest. Not until now.
He thinks maybe he should do what Spencer had done the day before, find a story to tell him, something to pass the time, but for all the books Joel has ever read, he finds he can't actually think of a single story to tell. There are too many options, too many stories he's read over the course of his life and he finds himself so nervous in this position that they're all jumbled up in his brain. One leads into another in a way he knows can't be possible and he's frowning up at the ceiling, trying to find a single thread in all the mess, one single story that he can tell to pass the time and keep Spencer entertained, but none will come to him. He tries to think of the stories his mother told him when he was a boy, the way she'd huddle in his bed with him just before he drifted off to sleep, the words she'd quietly speak and the melodic way her voice would lull and soothe him. She'd told so many tales that he knows there has to be one or two he can recall for Spencer in this situation, but none come to him.
There's only one thing that does. One thing she used to do for him and without giving it much thought, Joel takes a breath and finds himself singing. He isn't as talented a singer as his mother, his voice is low and rough and quiet, almost as if he's faintly embarrassed by the entire thing, but he remembers all the words of the song unlike all the stories he's trying to grasp, and that's something. It's one of his favourite songs, too, one that reminds him of his childhood, one that he's just always known, one that has always caught him with it's gentle, slightly melancholy words in a way he's never quite known how to describe. There's nothing sad about this moment, but it seems fitting all the same, even if his voice never gets any louder or any stronger. He isn't a singer, he isn't particularly talented, but he likes it anyway.
He likes it at the moment, anyway, and he wonders how much of that is due to Spencer.
He stumbles over a few of the words and laughs even as he sings, not as embarrassed by that as he would have thought he might be. When he finishes, when it's over and he's still looking up at the ceiling, he inches his fingers toward Spencer on the mattress and finds his hand, threading their fingers together, holding onto him. For some reason he can't quite look over at him, but his expression is light, slightly amused, even as he continues to look up at the ceiling. He truly doesn't know what's just come over him, why he would have thought to do that, but now that it's done, the words dying away in the empty, quiet room, he doesn't know if he needs a reason. He doesn't think Spencer will mind much.
Still, he says, "I couldn't think of a story to tell you." As if that will explain why he chose the song instead.