Title: have you ever seen the rain (i wanna know)
Fandom: Dune (2021)
Rating: T
Length: 607
Pairing: Paul Atreides/Duncan Idaho
Tags: Implied/referenced character death, secret relationship, canon-adjacent universe.
Summary: In his weaker moments, Paul longs for the cold, damp air of Caladan.

 

It hits him at the strangest of times.

Paul will look down at his hands and see the dust caked into the lines of his palms, underneath his nails, or take a deep breath, the dry desert air searing his lungs, and suddenly he will find himself overcome with a sense of homesickness so intense it almost knocks him off his feet. Everything here is so dry, drier than he could have ever imagined, and in his weaker moments, it makes him long for the cold, damp air of Caladan.

How he longs to look out over the dunes of Arrakis and see dark clouds, fat with rain, in the distance. He misses the way the storms would gather over the ocean, the waves gray and choppy as the wind whipped them into a frenzy, the storm seeming to gather energy from the water as the clouds grew larger, darker, the hum of electricity in the air as lightning prepared to strike. That first wet drop hitting his cheek as he looks toward the horizon, towards those clouds, thinking for one wild second that he should like to stay outside during the storm, that he would like to feel the cold rain soak him through to the bone, to sit beneath the black clouds as they rage overhead and feel their awesome power. The clouds do not care who he is, the name Atreides does not matter to the storm—

A large, calloused hand closing around his. A warm, deep voice at his ear.

“Come, little lord. Your father will have me court-martialed if I let you fall ill out here.”

Paul turning, flash of dark hair, dark eyes. A crooked smile. Duncan pulling him towards the castle as the first drops of rain start to batter the wet earth beneath their feet, and then the sky overhead opens up and the rain comes down in sheets, sharp enough to pierce their skin through their soaked clothes. Paul laughing, shouting, as Duncan breaks into a run, pulling him along to a low door in the castle wall, secret entrance that leads straight to the barracks, a tunnel Paul has walked through a thousand times before, but now it feels special, secret, sneaking along behind Duncan as he leads him past the other soldiers and straight to the familiar door to Duncan’s room. Private rooms, a reward for exemplary service from the duke. If only Leto knew—

Cold skin. Warm lips. Fingers peeling the soaked garments off his body, leaving them on the floor in a wet heap. His back against the wall, hands beneath his thighs, lifting him. Words of reverence, of devotion, spoken against his throat. Digging his teeth into his bottom lip to keep his voice at bay, to quell the words he wants to say in return, because he cannot—he will not—he wants it to be Duncan’s desire, Duncan’s choice, and he won’t take that away from him, he can’t—

Paul’s eyes open, and he comes back to himself with a rattling gasp, dust and sand and dry air scraping against his lungs. Blue eyes scan the darkness around him. The damp, rocky landscape of Caladan, the rolling black clouds, Duncan—trying to hold onto the memory is like trying to hold water, the images slipping through his fingers, until all that’s left is the faintest whisper of hands against his skin, the feeling of a raindrop on his cheek.

Reaching up, Paul wipes away the lone tear streaking its way through the dust on his cheek. Water for the dead.

Perhaps it’s not so much the rain he misses, after all.