sorry, nothing personal, but i am good looking,
He fully expects the small amount of a fight that Jisoo puts up — it happens every time Oikawa suggests a bath, and he’s used to it, more or less (well, that’s a lie, because he’ll never get used to getting scratches on his face, but still.) Since it’s Jisoo, though, he doesn’t mind nearly as much — the wounds end up shallow, anyway, and they heal almost immediately (to say he’s had worse would be a severe understatement — Jisoo never really aims to hurt him in the first place, so Oikawa ends up avoiding most of the serious scratching either way.)
Once they’re in the bathroom, he makes sure to close the door after himself — which seems pointless, considering Jisoo can turn human anytime, but still — and lets the other jump down from his arms, glancing at the cat now seated on the small rug in the middle of the room. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to make you jump in a cold bathtub,” he assures, briefly, noticing the way Jisoo tilts his head, almost in confusion. True to his words, right after setting the bags down, he heads to turn the water on — makes it warm, but not too hot. Jisoo isn’t particularly big in his cat form (unlike his human one), so a few inches is enough — after that, he moves over to pick him up again, as gingerly as he can.
Over the few weeks of knowing each other, he’d learned how to make this as painless as possible — clumsy at first, now, his movements are steady but gentle: he knows the easiest, quickest way of getting this over with, considering how much Jisoo hates bathing (why, Oikawa can’t fathom, but then again, he supposes it’s in his nature to loathe water.) He massages the shampoo into the other’s fur gently, rinses it with water, then repeats — a few times, to make sure all the dirt is gone. Once that’s done (regardless of how fast it takes, he usually still ends up with a few scratches on his hands), he picks the cat back up, setting him on the dry rug and reaching for a towel.
Jisoo’s fur isn’t particularly long, so drying doesn’t take a whole lot of rubbing — and, once Oikawa’s sure he’s dry enough, he leans back a little, staring at the slightly damp cat in front of him thoughtfully. “See? It went just fine — and now you’re clean and pretty, unlike… uh, turtles,” for example. “And every kitty lady will want you, or something.” Clearly, there’s not much you can say to a cat — but he doesn’t linger on the floor for too long, instead getting up to open the door for Jisoo.
“Anyway, now that’s done, let’s get you something to eat, yeah? Are you going to eat in your cat form, or human form? I need to know what to take out —" he has a bowl reserved just for Jisoo, but a plate is fine, too (even though watching someone eat cat food is a strange experience — not as much when it’s a person with cat ears, but still.)
Even if he hates the sensation of water — how it causes his fur to stick uncomfortably against his skin — he admits, that Oikawa does a good job in making it as painless as possible; even the water that pools at his feet is something that he grudgingly accepts. But when it comes down to it, he still hates baths — and he ends up squirming, somewhat, in Oikawa's grasp — twisting, turning, fidgeting, accidentally leaving thin, shallow scratches along the contours of his hands (which leaves him feeling somewhat guilty; though, he tries to put extra effort in keeping his claws unsheathed).
What he's come to grow fond of is what happens next — perhaps, somewhat influenced by the sheer relief of being somewhere other than the tub, but as Oikawa rubs his fur lightly, with a towel, he leans in — purrs, rubs the side of his face against Oikawa's wrist, contently. Though, there's only so much that towels can do; additionally, when Oikawa leans away a bit, to stare at him, he instantly moves to shake the excess water off of his frame, with tiny droplets soaking into the rug and landing everywhere in the immediate vicinity (except on him).
There's a sense of pride he gets, from the way that Oikawa looks at him (it causes him to stick his chest out a bit more, to puff up proudly) — but, he considers it something he deserves, especially after surviving a bath. It went just fine — he begs to differ (he finds himself kneading the rug beneath him — even shaking the water off of himself leaves him somewhat cold), but the turtles... but, in retrospect, Oikawa isn't the most normal human he's seen (and he leaves it at that; turtles...), escaping out the bathroom door the instant it opens — and shifting back once he's out, with a white flash.
"Like this... is fine," he responds — places a hand against the edge of the doorway, to stop. While his hair isn't dripping, it's still damp enough to cause him discomfort (it'll dry later, but his patience has never been reliable), and he runs his fingers through it, grimacing, at the sensation. "I still don't get why baths are so important." He's quick to voice complaints (though, his hair does smell nice and he does feel more awake, but the experience isn't worth it, to him), crossing his arms in front of him. "I thought I was going to die." But, he does remember what he'd been promised before, and to him, food is the highest bribe possible — for it, he'd do anything — as long as the reward delivers, properly. Leaning forward, he closes much of the gap between them; tilts his head to the side, curiously. "What are we eating?"
