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It was becoming warmer and warmer as the spring days edged towards summer in Katila, and the bathing houses had been made almost unbearably hot because of the heated water pumped from the hatching sands.  As part of his daily chores, Atlan had spent the past three hours cleaning, scrubbing, mopping, and sweeping the bathing houses, perspiration, splashed water, and the steamy air soaking him through his thin shirt and breeches.  He was even wetter after he and some of the other Weyrbrats assigned to cleaning duty had decided to spice up their drudgery by guerilla warfare style dousing of each other with buckets of water at intervals throughout the afternoon. 

Now, however, Atlan was free for a few hours.  One of the other weyrbrats was running the mops, cloths, and buckets back to the kitchens, and Atlan felt like getting away from the weyr for a bit.  Heading up the river towards the rocks to the north, he breathed deep, finding simple enjoyment in just being out and away from the hustle and bustle of weyrfolk.  Insects buzzed in the grass and bushes around him, and the sun started drying out his drenched clothing. 

After a minute of walking, getting just far away enough from the weyr that people wouldn't be wandering by constantly, Atlan stepped behind a bush, stripping out of his now merely damp clothing into just his smallclothes.  He tossed his shirt and trousers over a nearby large rock so they'd dry, then slipped off his shoes and turned to the river.  With a running start, he rushed and dove into the cool water, completely immersing himself a couple times, before kicking onto his back and floating, moving slowly against the current to keep in the same place while staring at the sky.

Is there any way I can change your mind?
No.
Nothing I can do to make you reconsider?
No.
But --
NO. It's getting ridiculous. Even you have to admit that. Three sevendays is too long a time for you to go without a bath. I'm already doing you a favor by taking you out of public view, unless you want the whole of the Weyr to witness what a baby you are about a bit of water.

Besulth, insulted, banked hard to the left, jarring his unprepared rider. "Uneccesary," C'vir muttered, straightening in his riding straps. Getting the brown to bathe was always an ordeal -- one that worsened when the dragon felt he was being watched. To appease Besulth's specific shyness, the pair was headed to the river in search of a bathing spot that would afford the reluctant brown more privacy than the crowded shores of the lake. The rider, as eager as his dragon to avoid public embarassment, didn't mind the making the marginally longer journey to find a secluded spot.

Besulth slowed as he neared the river, putting off the torture as much as was in his power.
Find a patch of land you like and get down there, his rider insisted, aware of the stalling strategy The dragon, unenthusiastic but obedient, scanned the surface of the river below him, searching for a satisfactorily shallow area. The only thing he disliked more than water was deep water. Besulth's survey of his surroundings didn't yield any ideal locations, -- ideal would have been never bathing again -- but it did produce something that would make C'vir nearly as uncomfortable with the circumstances as he was. Below them, afloat on the water, was something scantily-clad and gleaming in the afternoon sun. The brown wasn't one to waste an opportunity. He dropped into a hasty descent, earning another curse from his rider. A little warning would be nice. Didn't expect you to suddenly turn so eager.
I'm full of surprises.

The brown landed with practiced grace a short distance away from Atlan, privately addressing the swimming man. Care for some company, handsome?

Atlan had closed his eyes against the warm sun, but opened them when a shadow passed overhead.  He caught a glimpse of a brown tail as the flying dragon passed over the section of stream he was swimming in.  He'd evidently not chosen as secluded part of the river as he'd thought.  The dragon's voice in his head caused him to start, striking towards a more shallow section of the stream where his feet could get purchase.  Dragons rarely talked to any of the weyrbrats and even more rarely remarked on their physical attributes.

Water dripping off of his near naked body, Atlan stood to see the dragon and its rider.  He recognized both, albeit the dragon only because of the rider.  Atlan wasn't familiar with all of the riders, but C'vir being a wingsecond meant he was a bit more on the radar than most.  The dragon calling Atlan "handsome" was a bit of a mystery.  From common understanding, dragons didn't notice physical attributes unless their riders did, meaning that C'vir had noticed, and C'vir didn't seem to notice that sort of thing.

Puzzled and curious, Atlan gave the rider and dragon a small smile, calling out to them as they landed.

"I don't mind the company at all."

You didn't.
You know perfectly well that I did.

C'vir, distracted during the descent, had noted Atlan's presence in the most detached of manners. He'd seen the afternoon's light catch on bare skin, caught a wayward glimpse of fuzzily appealing bone structure. He hadn't, however, moved beyond abstract interest and attached the observations to the realization that he'd soon be in the floating man's company. With Besulth in charge of their destination, it should have come as little surprise that the brown would choose the sole spot along the river that could cause C'vir greater discomfort; the rider pursed his lips to keep back a sigh that would have satisfied the dragon immeasurably. Can't make anything easy on me, can you?
If you didn't make me bathe, we could have avoided this problem entirely.
You'd find other ways to torture me, I'm sure.

The brownrider stayed silent while he dismounted, keeping his eyes -- and the bulk of his attention -- aimed away from the other man. He didn't need a half-naked diversion, and planned on avoiding acknowledging the existence of the barely clad body until he'd gotten part of the afternoon's purpose behind. He busied himself systematically removing Besulth's riding straps, working his way around the dragon's body. Only after he'd completed the task did he step clear of the brown and turn to address the swimmer.

"I apologize for my dragon's presumptuousness."
And I apologize for my rider's poor manners. He has yet to learn how to make a proper introduction. The brown's reprimand was, as usual, a public one.

C'vir sighed, resignedly lifting a hand. "C'vir." He glanced over his shoulder to glare at the dragon. "And Besulth. He's here for a bath, but isn't likely to go without a fight."