get in, loser, we're going shopping [open; fairy tale plot]

[doublethepain]

An entire day has already passed, and Spencer is no closer to being used to walking on these legs than he'd been when April had helped him reach the shore. Each step is pure agony and for that alone, he is admittedly relieved that his voice has been taken from him for the time being; but in spite of his fears that Joel would tire of him quickly, that the prince would send him on his way after seeing him fed and clothed, he's been invited to stay in the palace for-- well, for as long as any of the royal family sees fit, he supposes.

Joel had demanded--in as princely a way as possible, of course--that Spencer be seen to, and the workers in the palace had been quick about putting him in a shirt and trousers that he supposes fit him well enough, not that it matters much to him, seeing as he's never had to wear clothes before in the first place. Joel hadn't left his side once, though he'd been very gentlemanly about keeping his back turned while Spencer had been helped into his clothes, and though they hadn't been able to converse, Spencer doesn't think he's ever felt more attended to in his life. The way Joel had looked at him as the evening continued on, as he'd sat across from him at the table while Spencer had been unapologetic about shoveling the stew laid before him into his mouth, is unlike anything he's ever known.

Only the introduction to the king and queen had made him flush terribly, though they'd been nothing but kind to him upon discovering he had been the one to save their son from drowning the day before. Joel's father had laid a gentle hand on his shoulder while his mother had offered a near tearful thanks punctuated with a kiss to his cheek and that had been that before Spencer had been ushered off to a large room with a bed that could certainly fit three of him comfortably on it.

Worse than the pain in his legs had been when the time had come to bid farewell to Joel for the evening, though he'd been assured that if he needed anything, he could call for him anytime. Spencer had slept soundly, though, exhausted from everything that had happened in so short a time, and by the time he'd woken up the next morning, he'd been more than ready to face the day. Now, he's exploring the marketplace, brought here by carriage and equipped with a cane meant to assist him with his walking. Joel had promised to come find him after he'd finished with what Spencer can only assume are his princely duties, though he hasn't the faintest idea what that might entail, but he's content with that for now. He can almost grow numb, in fact, to each sharp jolt that shoots through him with every foot forward as he admires the jewels and fruits and vegetables that are all for sale here, smiling and shaking his head at every merchant who calls out to him.

He has thirteen days left to make being human count for something; but in this moment, Spencer just wants to allow himself the chance to enjoy it the best he can.



[OOC: Open to all!]

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[just_another]

After he's seated Spencer at the edge of the bed, he moves toward the large windows and pulls one layer of curtains over them. They're not so heavy that they block the light out entirely and Joel still has more than enough to see by, but it dims the light a little, making it a little less bright in the room and hopefully a little easier on Spencer's eyes and on his head. On the small table by the bed is the bowl of water and the rags he'd asked for and Joel crosses to them, knowing he could ask the nurse or the medic to take care of this for him, but finding himself unable. It isn't that he doesn't trust them or that he thinks himself more capable, but that he can't bear the thought of leaving Spencer right now. Not after he had seemed so happy and now looks so miserable, which is the furthest thing from what Joel wants. A head wound is no laughing matter, of course but he doesn't want Spencer to feel embarrassed or that he has anything to be ashamed of. It was an accident and Joel himself has done far worse simply by being himself, but he suspects whether he wants it or not, Spencer does feel embarrassed and that causes a twinge in Joel's chest, something he doesn't know how to classify.

"Let me see," he says after he's wet one of the cloths and wrung out the excess water. He goes to the bed, putting one knee up on the mattress beside Spencer so that he might get close enough and he touches Spencer's head gently, urging him to tilt it so that Joel can begin to wipe blood off his skin and out of his hair. He's as light handed as he can be, taking care not to touch the wound directly once he's found it and instead concentrating on removing as much of the blood as he possibly can. It seems to have mostly stopped bleeding on its own, for which he's grateful. It means he won't have to call the medic up here regardless, he won't need to be stitched back together to stop the bleeding and, if they're lucky and Joel is careful not to start the bleeding going again, they may not even need to bandage him.

"When I was fourteen and first leaning to ride a horse properly, I got so excited that I thought riding a broom around the house would be good practice," he says and he isn't sure when he decided to tell this story, but now that he's speaking it seems best to just keep going. He rinses the cloth in the bowl of water, then squeezes out more of the water and returns to Spencer's head, cleaning his hair, cleaning his skin, soothing over the wound as best he can so that he won't cause any further pain. "My mother told me to stop about a dozen times, but I wouldn't listen to her and I rode the broom straight up the stairs. Right to the landing just outside your room, actually. Then I turned, caught my feet on a rug and smashed my head on the bannister before falling nearly all the way back down."

He tilts his head slightly, lifting his hand to push back some of his hair so Spencer can see the scar that cuts through his eyebrow. "I was lucky that was the worst of it. I could have broken my neck falling down the stairs like I did and by the way my mother was screaming you would have thought that I had, but it was just the blood that upset her. She said she saw it and it felt like her heart stopped. At the time I thought she was being ridiculous. It was barely a cut at all, barely any blood." He wipes the last of the blood away from Spencer's neck, then places the cloth back in the small bowl beside the bed and looks at Spencer for a long moment. "I think I now have a much better idea what she was feeling."

It's then he catches sight of the blood on the shirt and his hands go to the first button at Spencer's collar without thinking. "We should get you out of this and into something clean to wear," he says before he realizes he's offering to undress the other man, that he already has his hands on the buttons, that he's gently urging Spencer to stand so that it might be easier and there's a part of himself screaming to stop. That this is nonsense, it's dangerous, he's being absolutely ridiculous. And yet the part of him that's louder still is the part that wants nothing more than to just take care of Spencer.

[doublethepain]

He feels a little guilty for barely focusing on the story Joel is telling him, though Spencer understands the general point of it and smiles tiredly when he hears the prince's laugh; but the sound of Joel's voice is what keeps him feeling grounded and each time it stops, Spencer feels like he's been carried away by waves again, his body swaying just slightly back and forth as if he might fall over at any second. He'd like to think he can control himself better than that, if only because he'd be humiliated all over again to fall a second time, but the longer they're in this room, the more Spencer is willing to let Joel simply take over everything. He'll do anything Joel asks of him, but he's so exhausted, significantly more than he would have been even after walking around the market on his sore legs all day.

What he wants more than anything is to be allowed to sleep, to drift off and let his dreams ease the pain in his head better than any sort of potion could, but he knows the risks in that. He's heard about it before, merfolk and humans alike who have been swept away by waves too difficult to navigate and don't wake from a blow to the head that would most certainly be far more damaging than Spencer's own but nevertheless, he hates to see Joel looking so worried on his account. If he'd only been more aware, more cautious, this wouldn't have happened; but that isn't how he's been feeling since he'd gotten his legs. He doesn't want to be cautious, in fact, he wants to throw all caution to the wind so that he and Joel can be together the way Spencer so badly wants them to be without consequence or gossip or anything of the sort. He wants all sorts of things for them, happiness and contentment and understanding and love, and he knows he's growing a bit more delirious now but that doesn't change the fact that he still hopes for all these things.

Tomorrow, he knows he'll feel much better and the cut on the back of his head that Joel seems to have deemed not even worthy of a bandage will seem like a silly, distant memory that they'll be able to laugh about later; but for now, Spencer is shaking himself out of his thoughts--not without a flinch of pain--and realizing with slow comprehension that Joel's hands are on his shirt, working at his buttons, and there's Joel's voice again telling him that they ought to get Spencer into something clean wear. This one is stained with blood, after all, it wouldn't do to soil the bedsheets with it, too; but a small part of him hopes it takes Joel longer than it likely should to fumble with his buttons because he quite likes the warmth of the prince's hands so close to his chest.

He's standing on his feet without even remembering that he'd been helped to do that at all, and he think he'd be more worried about the effect this will have on his head if he didn't think that his thoughts of Joel were a good enough sign that everything is still working properly. Even in spite of himself, Spencer's priority is Joel, just like it had been yesterday and just like it will be tomorrow. In just one day, he has become willing to give himself to Joel, to let himself belong to Joel because he's never been more certain about anything that this prince, this man, would never do anything to take advantage of him. Joel would never harm him, never hurt him, and Spencer doesn't know how or why he knows that but it's as easily acceptable a fact as his own existence.

He catches one of Joel's hands in his when the prince gets down to the last button, suddenly understanding just what is happening and flushing all over again at the prospect of Joel seeing him without his shirt on for the second time in a day. It's not that he's embarrassed about his body, he hadn't been when he'd been found in the sails, but this is a much more intimate setting. His feelings for Joel have only grown deeper, especially after their trip to the marketplace and the kisses to the cheeks they'd exchanged and Joel's care for him now--it's all amounted to a sudden bashfulness that he can't hide, though his hand does loosen until he drops it to his side and lets his eyes flutter shut to let Joel finish his work.

He trusts Joel thoroughly, with every part of himself, and this is hardly putting his life in the man's hands but Spencer certainly wouldn't let just anyone in the palace undress him so intimately. It feels as if they've known each other for so much longer than they truly have, and Spencer has no idea why he feels such a pull toward Joel but if he's honesty, he doesn't care to question it.

All he knows is that this is important, that if there's any hope at all of them being together, Spencer has to let go of his fears and insecurities and anxieties over what may come by the end of his time here. It's easier said than done, and perhaps his efforts will be met with more resistance some days than others, but Spencer is prepared to do what he must to keep Joel in his life.

[just_another]

It feels like it takes Joel forever to undo each and every button and it isn't until he's down to the last that Spencer stops him and he hesitates, wondering if he should have just walked away. He isn't a medic, he's a prince, he doesn't know the first thing about taking care of someone who's been injured and he should have left this to someone more qualified, someone whose mouth wouldn't have gone dry at the sight of the skin he's slowing revealing and someone whose hands wouldn't be shaking now that they've been stopped at the very last button, held there by Spencer's hand, as if they're both waiting for something else to happen. It's silly, of course, he knows it is. Spencer is injured and Joel's primary concern needs to be getting him comfortably into bed, although he knows he's going to have to come back every few hours to check on him and make sure something worse doesn't happen because he knows that's how head injures behave. He knows there's a long night ahead of them both and he thinks it might be best if he doesn't make the entire evening horribly awkward be assuming too much and being too forward. This is the job for someone who knows what they're doing, someone who's able to look at Spencer with an unbiased, professional medical view instead of the way Joel finds his gaze sweeping over him, hungry and longing.

But then Spencer's hand falls aside and Joel finishes unbuttoning the shirt he's wearing, then lifts both his hands and eases it off Spencer's shoulders. There's a part of him that wants desperately to smooth his hands over his skin, touching him everywhere he's able, but he's being trusted with taking care of Spencer and so instead of letting himself give in to the most intense desires he's ever felt, Joel is very careful about removing Spencer's shirt without touching him more than necessary. His hands are still trembling faintly and when his fingertips graze against the smooth skin of Spencer's biceps, for a second Joel thinks he might just have to run. He might have to drop the shirt and flee for fear that he does something far too bold. Because there's a bed just behind them and he'd be able to wrap his arms around Spencer in an instant and fall on top of the covers with him. It would take barely the slightest movement at all and Joel wants it so badly that he, alarmingly, can feel his body responding to just the mere thought of it.

Spencer's been injured. He has to remind himself of that as he finally manages to remove his shirt the rest of the way. Carefully, Joel turns and lays it over the edge of a chair so that he might take it with him when he goes. And he thinks he should find something for Spencer to put on instead, something clean and comfortable, something that might ease the tension in the room, but when Joel looks at him, he feels like he's been frozen in place by the sight of him. On the beach the day before, he'd had barely a moment to look at him before all his concerns had turned to getting Spencer to the palace where he might rest. They had touched and Spencer had truly been far more exposed then than he is now, but Joel's focus had been on one thing. Now that he's here, now that Spencer is safe, if still injured, he's been allowed a moment to look and though he tries not to, he can't seem to help himself. His gaze sweeps over Spencer's upper body and he knows he shouldn't make such a show of it, he should at least try to hide it, but he can't seem to, even as a flush darkens his cheeks.

After being dragged through the waves, he'd known well that Spencer is strong. Such a thing had been impossible to deny when he felt that arm locked around his chest, tugging him up to the air. But under the shirts and trousers his mother has supplied to Spencer, he looks deceptively slim and now here, in the warm afternoon sunlight still filtering in through the curtains, Joel can see it truly is a deception. He's stronger than anyone might expect, his arms lean and toned, his chest perhaps quite narrow, but his shoulders surprisingly broad. He is slim, built in a way quite unlike Joel, but there's strength there, more than most people might expect and the sight of Spencer's warm, smooth skin, the sight of the way his shoulders and arms shift and pull makes Joel's breath catch in his throat.

And he isn't being subtle, he knows it, but he can't seem to help himself. It takes several long moments before he realizes just how close he's still standing, how there's barely a few inches between them and then he clears his throat, feeling foolish and quite rude all at once. Spencer has been hurt and even if their affections are mutual, this is hardly the time to be acting on them.

"Sit," he says softly, urging Spencer back toward the edge of the bed. "I'll find you something to wear. You should rest, but I'll have to check in on you every so often. Or would you..." Joel pauses in the act of going to the closet, rifling through the night clothes until he finds something soft and light, something that will be comfortable without being too warm. "Would you rather I stay?"

He thinks maybe he shouldn't, not with the way his body has been responding to Spencer's. If he climbs into that bed beside Spencer, even if it's only to sit up with him, he's afraid that his response might be all but impossible to hide and he's embarrassed to be standing here, so aroused by Spencer when what he needs is assistance, not some prince who can barely hold himself together in the presence of someone he's attracted to.

[doublethepain]

His throat has gone dry by the time Joel slips his shirt off his shoulders, and Spencer can't quite meet the prince's eyes for fear of how obvious the burning on his cheeks must be right now. He's never been good at hiding this sort of thing, how utterly bashful he can get under the right circumstances, and even in just the past day, Joel seems to positively excel at making him blush. He's almost thankful when Joel gently sits him back down on the bed and turns away to face the wardrobe, it gives Spencer a chance to finally release the breath he's been holding and at least make an attempt to get his racing heart back to something steadier. All at once, he needs Joel to keep his distance and come back closer because while he already knows he never wants to be from the prince, Spencer thinks that if Joel does stay, this evening may turn out quite differently than either of them may have expected.

It's not that he'd find that to be a problem; but he doesn't want to overwhelm Joel so quickly, even if Spencer's heart is telling him that they want the same thing--they have to, what he'd felt on the beach was far too strong to be all in his mind--and right now, half-undressed and breathing heavily with the man he wants more than anything just a few feet away, Spencer isn't sure that he'd be able to do much in the way of keeping himself under control. All he wants to do is cross the room and kiss him, the blow to his head and the pain in his legs be damned, or if nothing else, to be held in the warmth of Joel's arms for the rest of the night.

Whether that's something the prince is offering in his question of whether Spencer wants him to stay or not, he isn't sure. What he does know is that there could never come a time that Spencer wouldn't want him at his side. Even the time between leaving him on shore and returning to him at the site of Joel's wrecked boat had been a trial, after all. It had been the uncertainties that had worried him the most, the questions of whether he'd ever seen Joel again and if he did, would it only ever be from afar? Would he ever get the chance to hold Joel's hand again, to know what it's like to brush his lips against someone's temple and feel as if there's nobody else in the world he's meant to touch in that way?

He has a better understanding now of how easily Ersa had manipulated him, how she'd twisted his feelings until he'd seen no option but to exchange his tail and voice for legs and pain, and Spencer knows he'd probably be expected to view her as something vile. He should probably think of her as a bit cruel, this sea witch who does no good deed for free, but Spencer can't find it in him to do it because in spite of what she'd taken from him, Ersa had also given him his greatest gift--the chance to make this love last, to not live out the rest of his life in regret and wishful thinking of what things could be like if only he could find another moment with Joel again.

The room isn't cold, but Spencer shivers as Joel turns his gaze back on him. His head still stings but it's dulled to a manageable throb, something that Spencer won't spare much concern about come tomorrow or even right now because he's been hurt worse before, much to the dismay of his father. This is next to nothing, really, and he'd be happy to explain that to Joel with a wave of his hand but the only thing that stops him is knowing that if he does, he'll have to wait until morning to see the prince again. It's selfish, possibly even the slighest bit devious, but he so desperately wants Joel to stay. Needs Joel to stay.

Without another thought, he lifts his hand to reach out for Joel, beckoning him back to his side on the bed. Regardless of what state he's in, Spencer knows well enough that nothing can happen between them tonight that amounts to more than perhaps the kind of touch that wouldn't be expected of two people who are merely friends. They barely know each other and yet, Spencer feels as if he's known Joel forever. He trusts this man with his life, with his heart and soul and body, and Spencer cannot for the life of him understand why or how this has happaned, only that it has and that he isn't willing to fight it. So if Joel only sits beside him tonight to make sure Spencer wakes, it will still mean the world. It will mean that there's nowhere else either of them would rather be.

After just a brief moment of hesitation, he pushes himself back on the bed until his legs are lifted onto the mattress and he's lying against the pillows. His stomach turns a bit with how nervous he is, his eyes focusing more closely than they need to on the rich reds and golds that form patterns on his blanket and he sinks down against the pillows he's been told are so soft because they've been stuffed with goose feathers. He'd examined everything in his room to a great extent last night, though, so it's not as if he's seeing the shimmering threaded details for the first time; he just needs something to distract from the fact that Joel's eyes had traveled down the length of his chest once his shirt had come off, that his own body had responded in such a way that is both familiar and unfamiliar all at once, and he doesn't yet know how best to handle it.

No matter, he supposes; Joel has been nothing but patient with him thus far, and Spencer trusts that won't end. The next two weeks will be a journey for them both, he hopes, but they'll face it together. That's all that Spencer wants.

[just_another]

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.