How To Fall From Grace [MxM]

Step 27: Fall into his arms

Perhaps Frey should have gone out on top.

Hubris had gotten the best of him, he figured as he looked down at his sticky hands with disgust. Hadn't the praise he'd received from the Fjærhaugs regarding their son's fondness of him been enough? Now he was baking bread while waiting for a roast, prepared beforehand by Revna, over the fire to be done, as if he knew what he was doing at all.

It felt like he'd been adding flour for ages. How much could possibly be required? It didn't help that the recipe he'd found in an old Hrimskan cookbook described it as 'Flour: Until the dough feels just right'.

"Just right for what?" he muttered to the sad excuse of a dough, trying to free his hands of it all while hating the buttery substance against his skin.

"How's it going?" Marius asked as he stepped into the kitchen with two buckets of water, needing no verbal answer as he noticed Frey's frown. "Dough's being difficult?"

"I'm this close to flipping the whole trough over." Frey separated two dough-glued fingers just a little with an increasingly frustrated scowl.

"Just not over me, I hope." Marius raised a bucket as Frey looked back at him. "I'm ready to take my revenge this time."

Frey narrowed his eyes. Marius was most likely joking, but with their track record of pastry throwing and bucket tipping, it was also not an impossibility, so he decided to play it safe.

"No, not over you."

"That's a relief." Marius put the bucket down again to take a bundle of poofy, yellow flowers out of his coat. "And look what I found near the well."

Frey eyed the flowers.

"Coltsfoot."

"Ooh, flower knowledge." Marius had his eyebrows arched while pouring a glass of water to put them in. "Though I guess they're pretty common, especially around this time of year."

Frey let his gaze rest on the small flowers, a sting in his heart making itself known, and he released a quiet breath.

"My... Father loved making up nicknames for people." His eyes wandered down to his hands. "He actually called me coltsfoot until I told him to stop."

Marius cocked his head to the side.

"Which was...?"

"... First time he tried it." Frey smiled softly. "I still remember it though. He had a name for the others after all so while I didn't want him to use that one, it was nice to have been included, I suppose."

"It wouldn't be the worst name." Marius held up the glass. "They're pretty after all, like you. Brightens up a room."

"Just don't bring in too many or you'll have to fetch water all day," Frey pointed out like the mood killer that he is. "You already need to go all the way to the well, so better not waste it on flowers."

"It's not like I have to go down all the way to the river." Marius dismissed it with a shrug, but it was soon followed by a grimace. "Though honestly? The river might not be such a bad idea, what with the sweat I've been working up."

"Oh, I hadn't noticed..." Frey's voice was monotonous, trying not to imply that the sweat smell had bothered him ever since they got back from the Fjærhaugs. "... But now that you're bringing it up..."

"Nice try." Marius gave him a hug from behind, making Frey's shoulders tense up at the idea of getting sweat all over his shirt, and he tried to worm his way out of the grip. "Perhaps we both should take a river bath."

Frey didn't even want to imagine it. The weather was still far from warm enough to have a pleasant swim outside, and he just knew Marius would get some dumb, childish urge to tackle him into the water whenever he dropped his guard.