plaguedrat | (no subject)

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(no subject)

For two months, Rat has done his best to avoid cooking meals. To him, it marks acceptance giving in to the form of the city and letting the apartment it provided become his home. Grey's presence has changed that rule. It's why he's bought carrots, potatoes, a round of beef, stock wine, and spices. For Grey.

Cooking for himself, letting this place be any kind of permanent? Rat can't do that. For Grey, though, he can.

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Sitting? All right. Grey crouches down into the water and sits. He shivers again, his cast, his bandaged hand in the air.

Leaning back, Rat soaks his hair and rinses it out, combing it back from his face. For a second, he just enjoys the lines of Grey's shoulders and the words inked along them before pouring soap into his hands and working it into a lather.

It's like the water Grey found Curtis by, but it was warmer and it had bubbles and Grey isn't sure what to do but sit here. He rests his arm on the side of the tub.

Rat spreads soapy hands along Grey's back, slipping his thumbs along tight spots and scars, washing him clean. It's more social than he was when he was at a real bath house.

It feels wonderful. Letting his eyes slip shut, Grey revels in the touch, soaking it up. The heat and Rat's hands.

"I can wash your hair," he says it with the obligatory attempt at indifference, well aware that neither of them is fooled.

If Rat wants to, Grey will not complain. He likes this very much. He likes baths. Baths with Rat. Yes; he nods. Please.

Nodding, he eases Grey forward so that there's room to bend him backward so that he can soak his hair. As with the soap, he lathers shampoo in his hands before smoothing it into Grey's hair.

The plastic bag squinches against the side of the tub as Grey moves. There's some flailing when he's pulled backward; he's never, after all, had his head underwater, and he splutters when he comes up.

"Hey, you're okay!" Rat says, trying not to laugh. He can't quite stifle it, especially when the water is barely two feet deep.

But it's water and he didn't know to hold his breath and Grey only has one hand to wipe his eyes and he didn't know -

Grey makes some inarticulate noises. He doesn't mind water, he thinks. As long as it doesn't go over his head.

Fair enough, fair enough. Rat massages Grey's scalp, hoping it'll pacify his indignation.

If Grey knew what embarrassment was, he'd be embarrassed. As it is, he's like a sulky puppy. Though the fingers against his scalp are really nice.

Really nice.

"I'm going to tip you back again," Rat says, warning this time. Just long enough to rinse the shampoo out of Grey's hair.

"When your cast is off, you can just stand under the shower instead of sitting."

The water's already a little dingy. Grey grabs what he can to hold on to as he's tipped back. His eyes are shut tight, his mouth too.

It's the work of a few seconds and Rat lets Grey back up. Noting the state of the water, he reaches out past Grey to let it drain so that he can replace it with clean water.

Grey scrubs at his eyes again and snuffles out a breath. Are they done?

"Keep your cast away," he warns. After a second, he pours out more hot water and points at the shower head above them, turning the knob that sends the spray down over them.

Gah. This is all very traumatic. Grey has had a shower before, but the water sprays down and the sad puppy with the plastic on his arm just looks more sad. Is this what people do regularly?! Why?!

Because it helps them keep clean, mostly. Rat tends to prefer baths to showers, though he sits easily enough under the spray as he washes his own hair and body. "You can step out if you need," he says, head tipped back and eyes closed.

Blinking against the water that splashes in his eyes, Grey does climb out. He's only half-clean, really, but that's plenty for him. He crouches on the tiles, watching.

Fully washed, Rat steps out and towels off quickly. It should be strange to him that he's already comfortable with this casual level of intimacy but it seems to work between them.

Is that what Grey should do?

Sometimes being here - in Darrow - makes him very tired. He doesn't know what to do sometimes and it's tiring. He doesn't mean to grow easily discouraged. It's just that sometimes, things seem so strange.

Rat would suggest that Grey make his own rules, living the way that suits him best. It's how he's managed so far.

He goes through his drawers and throws on one of the undershirts and pairs of boxers he bought in a multipack out of necessity, deliberately being indifferent in his choices. Still damp, they cling to his skin.

"Clean shirt?"

Unfolding, Grey pads, still dripping, into the room, nodding. He's never lived for himself; he doesn't know how. Perhaps that's something that makes Curtis so angry.