(no subject)

[tu_vas_triompher]

The walk to Harry's room is made awkward by Feuilly having to carry a laptop computer, a practice sword, some books, a notebook, a tablet, pen and pencil, etc.

Also by the whole thing where Harry just appeared in the bar all bloody and cheerful after vanishing for a bit to go fight Viking raiders. That makes things a little awkward too. Not that Feuilly disapproves of going and rescuing villagers from violent murder! It's an excellent thing to do! But...he's never seen Harry so much in his professional capacity before.

Not knowing what else to do, he settles in to handle it the way he handles Bahorel adventures: stolid and pragmatic. They'll get Harry cleaned up and patched up and fed and watered and--sort out whatever else needs sorting out.

Comments

[harryhotspur]

Harry is largely on board with this idea, with one minor diversion on the way: once the door shuts behind them, Harry seizes Feuilly by the shoulders and, not particularly troubled by Feuilly's armful of possibly-delicate things, yanks him into a kiss.

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Mmh!" It's not a noise of protest, but it is a noise of surprise. He drops the pen and pencil, trying to lean into the kiss.

...Really Feuilly shouldn't be surprised.

[harryhotspur]

Harry tugs closer still, until he accidentally jabs himself against the hilt of the practice sword and retreats with a groan, though he keeps one hand clenched in Feuilly's shirt at the shoulder.

[tu_vas_triompher]

"--Damn--" He laughs a small breathless laugh, and gestures with his armful of miscellany. Let's just--put this stuff down somewhere--that chair is fine--and maybe get rid of the practice sword--

"Let me help you with--" Um.

[harryhotspur]

"I thank thee, couldst take--" He fumbles to unbuckle his sword. "If I could but--"

He gives up for a moment with a laugh. "Ah, wouldst thou had been there!"

[tu_vas_triompher]

Yes, yes, Feuilly bends down and helps with the sword, pushing away Harry's fumbling hands. "I wish I had been," he says quietly. "Was it--did the people get away?"

[harryhotspur]

"I thank thee-- I am sorry--" He lifts his hands out of the way. "The most that I could see did so, we saw them to shelter and there left them."

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Good." There, there's the sword; he leans it against the wall for now, and straightens to study Harry's face. There's--more than a little blood. Feuilly bites his lip, eyebrows raised.

[harryhotspur]

Oh, right.

"Some-- some water would do well, perchance," Harry says. He runs a hand carefully over his face. "I will-- I can fetch it."

[tu_vas_triompher]

"No--come on." Over to the bed: he steers Harry. "I'll get the water. Sit."

(Yes, Feuilly half expects to be overruled.)

[harryhotspur]

But Harry sits, content to begin the equally involved task of beginning to undo his buttons and peel off the various layers until he is down to his shirt.

This done, it's easier to see which of the blood belonged to others and which is Harry's, as only the latter is left visible, paired with rents in the linen: long gash on his left arm, several shallower ones in the vicinity of his ribs and abdomen.

[tu_vas_triompher]

Feuilly comes back with a basin of water and some cloths; he has to set his jaw firmly at the sight of the damage. Right.

The shirt needs to come off too. He'll help with that; he can peel cloth away from the wounds very lightly and carefully indeed. "They can heal this at the infirmary," he says with some hesitation.

Feuilly doesn't know him after fights: is he the sort to laugh it all off, to drop suddenly into drained exhaustion, to stay up into the night recounting every blow, to turn all into touchy pride....

[harryhotspur]

Harry grabs one of the cloths and scrubs it over his face.

"It is not so serious," Harry says. "Washed and bound, what may a doctor do I know not how?"

He seems... cheerful, so far, an almost giddy happiness stretched thin over a thrum of energy that seems sure to give out soon.

[tu_vas_triompher]

"--Quite a bit, in fact." Ehhhh. Feuilly laughs, finally, and takes the cloth. "Here, I'll do that. --Joly and Combeferre will lecture me for hours if I don't at least mention the infirmary."

He has a steady hand with the wet cloth, if Harry will let him work. "And I should probably be herding you into the shower."

[harryhotspur]

He does; he will. He even approximates something like stillness as Feuilly works.

"What may they do?" he asks after a moment or two of silence. "--and a showering would save time indeed, but it does not rain today."

[tu_vas_triompher]

"At the infirmary? I think they can make something like this heal up more or less all the way. At least they can prevent infections--Harry! I mean the shower-bath. In the washroom?"

...right?

[harryhotspur]

"That would be well," Harry says thoughtfully. "I will have much need of all my strength."

Feuilly's clarification, judging by Harry's blank look, clarifies nothing.

[tu_vas_triompher]

"We can go to the infirmary. But Harry, the shower--it's--" Well, he hadn't really known about shower-baths either. But still. He'd found the fixture reasonably self-explanatory. "I'll show you."

[harryhotspur]

Harry is not of an inquisitive temper generally. Here, he is even more convinced that pulling strange knobs or pushing strange buttons might inadvertently cause disaster. Or least strange music.

At any rate, he nods and stands, ready to be shown.

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Come on, let's go." He herds Harry over to the bathroom, but pauses in the doorway. "When you say you will have much need of all your strength--is there something you've got planned?"

[harryhotspur]

"I am to fight a duel," he says, stepping in. "I cannot think if I had best be glad of such a bounty of business all at once, or to wish them farther distant, that I might be longer occupied."

He tugs at the shower curtain. "Is't this? I thought it some odd closet."

[tu_vas_triompher]

"You what." Feuilly remains in the doorway. "When? Why? Who?"

[harryhotspur]

"He gave me no name, but 'twas plain he was no human," Harry says. Some people might say such a thing with trepidation: not Harry, and certainly not Harry less than an hour out from a fight.

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Oh, for--" For the love of God. Feuilly can see there's not much use arguing about it now. But he'll need to hear more. "Go, wash. The water comes out there, and you--let me see--all right, you push this up and then this makes the water hotter or colder--hm--"

All right, so now that he thinks about it he'd had to do quite a bit of experimenting himself. He looks sideways at Harry, bleeding, giddy. "Do you need company?"

[harryhotspur]

Harry pushes, lifts as instructed and stares for a moment in wonder at the little rainstorm in the funny closet. It's like the sink! Only bigger!

"Is't how 'tis done? In company?"