Sink or Swim
Disclaimer: They belong to CS Lewis, who probably wouldn't approve, but no disrespect is meant by this.
AN:Sequel to "By the Lion Led".
I have always, even before I was a slasher, envisaged Edmund as about fifteen at this point, which according to Lewis' time line is actually couple of years too old, and Caspian as about 18, which is officially a couple of years too young. I'm sticking with my ages, not that you can tell. It's that bit more comfortable.
At some point, I will actually write some more plot for these two, but various people expressed dissapointment that the boys never got to kiss in the last fic, so I'm rectifying this. I wrote this as an advent challenge, and it's already been posted in my LJ.
Dedication: This one's for cottonwoolfairy and footymad4eire. Thanks also to Herringprincess.
Edmund's POV
The first thing I remember is freezing cold water filling my mouth and nose, stinging my eyes. I struck out instinctively with strong strokes, keeping myself afloat, although my heart felt like it had stopped. I was filled with such joy, and such fear, and such dread that I could hardly bear it, but before I'd had the chance to think, the iciness of the water crept into my veins, and then all I could feel was numb and slow and cold.
But there was a ship. I hadn't been imagining it. When the waves dipped, it appeared out of a swirl of sea-water, only to disappear again. Above the crashing of the waves, I could hear shouting from the deck. Eustace was howling – a horrible, wailing cry that cut off in a gurgle and a choked protest from Lucy. I turned back to find the stupid fellow had dragged them both under. Treading water, I got my arms around him and haul him afloat. When I looked back for Lucy, a golden-headed chap from the ship had her in his arms.
I was numb, numb with cold and some nameless fear.
Ropes were flung down to us. Lucy was hauled up, then Eustace, and then somehow, miraculously, there was solid, swaying deck under my feet.
I turned back to help our rescuer.
Our fingertips touched, and the shock was so great I almost reeled. I hadn't realised that a touch could be so instantly recognisable. His hand almost jerked away, but I grasped his wrist. My grip was wet and slippery and weak from exhaustion, but I could not let his hands slip from mine. I pulled him over the bulwark and he staggered against me, righted himself with a hand on my shoulder. For a moment we just stared at one another, and then his face broke into a golden smile.
'Ca-ca-caspian?' Lucy said.
I could have wept. His grip was steady on my shoulder, which was a jolly good thing because my legs were shaking, and not just with the cold. He crushed me to him in a bear-hug, and I leant my head against his shoulder. We stood like that for a moment longer than was comfortable, and then, feeling awkward, he turned to Lucy and hugged her too, and then to Eustace.
The bickering is not worth remembering. Afterwards, with Lucy exploring Caspian's room and Eustace asleep in our new shared cabin, we walked the length and breadth of the ship together, side by side, not touching.
'You've grown,' he said to me eventually.
'You haven't changed a bit,' I blurted out simultaneously. And then we both laughed and some of the tension was broken. It wasn't what needed saying. It was scarcely even true. But he touched the back of my neck, and suddenly nothing needed saying so urgently anymore. I was lost in his touch.
I remember stubble against my cheek and baby-soft lion-gold curls, and the rhythmic sway of the boat beneath our feet. I remember pulling away, breathless and wide-eyed, feeling much closer to drowning than I had in the ocean. His lips were hot and gentle, and his hands were strong and held me afloat.
I remember the taste of sea-water and mulled wine.