Athelstan finds that he does not like that expression on Ragnar's face just now. He wants to shake it away but he doesn't reach out to touch him, still watching him carefully, each movement, every slight movement in his face. He feels a bit humiliated all over again but it's not Ragnar's fault. He finally drops his gaze before Ragnar continued speaking.
"Do you not trust me to tell you if I'm overwhelmed, if it's too much?" Athelstan asks, looking up at him again. In honesty, it's probably fair that Ragnar might not trust him to do so, especially now.
"Athelstan. You did not tell me it was what you wanted and you went to some stranger to 'learn'- Did you not just say-" He started to retort with a flare of frustration, but forced himself to stop mid-sentence, bowing his head and squeezing his free hand into a fist for a moment to regain his composure. He exhaled slowly, unfisting his hand.
He was trying. He really, really was.
He tilted his head back, forcing himself to look Athelstan in the eyes as he spoke, tone strained, but calm.
"None of that matters though. It is done. And now I know. That that is what you expect of me in bed," His tone pulls slightly as he fights the urge to sound even sassier, "And, no. I have never fucked Dodger. Not like that. Does that, at least, make you happy?"
Athelstan inhaled sharply at Ragnar's reply and he does his best to school his face to not show the way it had upset him. It takes a moment for him to be willing to look directly at Ragnar again. It doesn't become any easier to hold his gaze when he keeps talking.
He feels that infernal burning in his eyes again and the turns his head to look anywhere but at Ragnar. He doesn't know what exactly it is that causes him to crack again.
He takes a quick inhale and doesn't look back at Ragnar, not wanting him to see him and rather sure if he did that he'd wouldn't be able to stop himself from truly crying. He felt so weak and this loss of composure is not helping in the least.
"I did not go to him to learn. Not tonight... and the first night I was hardly myself," he murmurs, his voice quiet but it doesn't mask how thick it is.
"Why are you holding it against me? I thought it was the natural way of things," Athelstan whispers in frustration, Ragnar's tone digging into a sore spot.
Ragnar bit the inside of his lip, annoyed and angry with himself, with Dodger, with everything.
"If that was what you wanted, there was nothing keeping you from saying so... And if you have questions, there is nothing stopping you from asking," He muttered, pulling away from Athelstan with a heavy sigh. His knees were complaining too much to keep kneeling in front of the monk and he wanted a bit of space, some room to breathe and cool off, so he eased back, sitting with his back against the wall, the blanket wrapped loosely around him and his knees pulled up close to his chest.
Athelstan doesn't know what to do just then and he rubs his face exhausted. The drug that he'd been shot with had made the idea of sleeping even further impossible even once it wore off and on top of the other thoughts and pain keeping him awake.
Ragnar's words pushed forward the feelings of guilt. He forces himself to look back at him. "I'm sorry, Ragnar" he said quietly.
The apology made him crumble a little, any annoyance and anger he'd felt drained away and he rubbed his hand down his face with a tired sigh. Even after dropping his hand to his side, he kept his eyes closed, head tilted back to rest against the wall as well.
"...No. It is not your fault. I am just... frustrated," He opened his eyes, head still tilted back, looking at Athelstan at the odd angle, "You have nothing to be sorry for. It is... mm. Not your problem. It is our problem, yes? And now, we can start to fix it."
Athelstan wanted to argue that it is his fault. The fact that Ragnar is frustrated, Athelstan's failings, what Dodger had done... it's all Athelstan's fault. He knows well enough, though, that Ragnar would not agree and that it would anger or upset him if Athelstan said as much so he kept it to himself.
He nods, a small smile. Even if he does still feel that it his own problem, that he's somehow the problem they would get further if they were trying to fix it together.
Athelstan turns toward the table and begins putting things away, his mind still feels a bit raw and he's overall unsettled but he Ragnar probably would not agree to rest more unless Athelstan came to bed. "We should rest first," he said quietly.
"Now?" He asked, looking up at Athelstan in shock. Despite feeling exhausted, sleeping was the last thing on his mind. He had, what felt like, a hundred things on his mind, most of them had to do with the things he was imagining doing to Dodger.
Still, he slowly pushed himself up onto his feet with a quiet grunt. He shrugged off the blanket, wrapping it around Athelstan's shoulders instead. Nodding towards the house, he pushed the door of the small art room open and waited for Athelstan to lead the way.
Athelstan nods slightly. "Aren't you tired?" he questions as the other gives up, letting him wrap the blanket around his shoulders. He leaves the art room and heads back toward the house. He almost feels like washing himself again but it's a foolish thought and he wants Ragnar to get back to sleep, already sorry for the way that he's disturbed the man's rest.
He makes his way up to the room they share, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Ragnar, you won't do anything rash, right?"
Ragnar quietly shut the door to Athelstan's art room, padding along beside him as they traversed the short little path back to the house. The sky was just starting to lighten, though it was still more predawn than dawn.
"Not really. I do not remember what I dreamt," He said with a soft smile, following Athelstan inside, "But it woke me up."
The panic of thinking Athelstan was gone had definitely woken him up more, but the monk already seemed wracked with guilt. He didn't need any more help.
"Rash?" Ragnar echoed the word with a slight smile that was devoid of any warmth, "No."
It wouldn't be rash at all. It would be well thought out and executed with calculation. Not rash.
Athelstan thought about the other's comment. He wonders what it was that he had been dreaming. Dreams are often a curious thing, he thinks, anymore. He doesn't further ask, though, if the other doesn't remember but it woke him up if it comes back to him he'd surely tell him.
If Athelstan was in a better state of mind he would have caught the fact that he hadn't worded his request correctly, not nearly covering what he would need to to make sure that Ragnar didn't do anything retaliatory but he's mentally exhausted and drained even if he feels like the last thing he can do is sleep.
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"Do you not trust me to tell you if I'm overwhelmed, if it's too much?" Athelstan asks, looking up at him again. In honesty, it's probably fair that Ragnar might not trust him to do so, especially now.
"Dodger."
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He was trying. He really, really was.
He tilted his head back, forcing himself to look Athelstan in the eyes as he spoke, tone strained, but calm.
"None of that matters though. It is done. And now I know. That that is what you expect of me in bed," His tone pulls slightly as he fights the urge to sound even sassier, "And, no. I have never fucked Dodger. Not like that. Does that, at least, make you happy?"
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He feels that infernal burning in his eyes again and the turns his head to look anywhere but at Ragnar. He doesn't know what exactly it is that causes him to crack again.
He takes a quick inhale and doesn't look back at Ragnar, not wanting him to see him and rather sure if he did that he'd wouldn't be able to stop himself from truly crying. He felt so weak and this loss of composure is not helping in the least.
"I did not go to him to learn. Not tonight... and the first night I was hardly myself," he murmurs, his voice quiet but it doesn't mask how thick it is.
"Why are you holding it against me? I thought it was the natural way of things," Athelstan whispers in frustration, Ragnar's tone digging into a sore spot.
"Yes and no."
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"If that was what you wanted, there was nothing keeping you from saying so... And if you have questions, there is nothing stopping you from asking," He muttered, pulling away from Athelstan with a heavy sigh. His knees were complaining too much to keep kneeling in front of the monk and he wanted a bit of space, some room to breathe and cool off, so he eased back, sitting with his back against the wall, the blanket wrapped loosely around him and his knees pulled up close to his chest.
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Ragnar's words pushed forward the feelings of guilt. He forces himself to look back at him. "I'm sorry, Ragnar" he said quietly.
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"...No. It is not your fault. I am just... frustrated," He opened his eyes, head still tilted back, looking at Athelstan at the odd angle, "You have nothing to be sorry for. It is... mm. Not your problem. It is our problem, yes? And now, we can start to fix it."
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He nods, a small smile. Even if he does still feel that it his own problem, that he's somehow the problem they would get further if they were trying to fix it together.
Athelstan turns toward the table and begins putting things away, his mind still feels a bit raw and he's overall unsettled but he Ragnar probably would not agree to rest more unless Athelstan came to bed. "We should rest first," he said quietly.
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Still, he slowly pushed himself up onto his feet with a quiet grunt. He shrugged off the blanket, wrapping it around Athelstan's shoulders instead. Nodding towards the house, he pushed the door of the small art room open and waited for Athelstan to lead the way.
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He makes his way up to the room they share, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Ragnar, you won't do anything rash, right?"
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"Not really. I do not remember what I dreamt," He said with a soft smile, following Athelstan inside, "But it woke me up."
The panic of thinking Athelstan was gone had definitely woken him up more, but the monk already seemed wracked with guilt. He didn't need any more help.
"Rash?" Ragnar echoed the word with a slight smile that was devoid of any warmth, "No."
It wouldn't be rash at all. It would be well thought out and executed with calculation. Not rash.
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If Athelstan was in a better state of mind he would have caught the fact that he hadn't worded his request correctly, not nearly covering what he would need to to make sure that Ragnar didn't do anything retaliatory but he's mentally exhausted and drained even if he feels like the last thing he can do is sleep.
"Alright," he murmurs.