cw: referenced torture, nonsexual nudity, implied fear of noncon
for the @augusnippets challenge // word count: 448
=~=~=
His hair is filthy.
There's plenty more wrong; the layered bruises, the poorly healed wounds, the infected gashes he had to scrub out as Kiv screamed, but there's nothing left for those but time. Sahota doesn't have a med pod or cell patches, but the apartment they're holed up in has a full-sized tub, and hell knows Kiv could use a bath.
The bigger man is able to stand, which makes getting to the bathroom easy enough, but there's a distance in his eyes. He's not fully present. Sahota is almost thankful for that. Without the sharp awareness, he looks a lot less like Vic.
He helps him sit on the lid of the toilet while he starts the water, running the hand under the flow to make sure the temperature will be comfortable.
“I'm going to take off your clothes, okay?”
Kiv was wearing what could only be described as rags when he found him, but he still panicked when Sahota tried to cut them away and get a look at his injuries, begging him to leave him alone, to not touch him. He wore a few weeks’ stubble, and seeing a face that looked so much like Vic’s so distressed was jarring. Almost stopped him in his tracks, almost made him turn and run. But he'd managed to ground himself. Not Vic, just his clone. Just Kiv, who took every opportunity to take out his own pain on Sahota. Maybe he should've left him there, maybe it was healthier. But if he did, who else would help? Kiv had no one.
Kiv didn't say anything as Sahota stripped him, meekly allowing himself to be helped into the bath. He let out a soft exhale as the warmth hit his body, just that brief contact enough to turn the water a dingy color. Fine, he'd just drain it after the first layer of grime was gone. He grabbed a washrag off the counter and wet it, then set to work cleaning Kiv's back, careful to be gentle when crossing the worst of his wounds. The bigger man was silent throughout, sitting still even as Sahota drained the tub and refilled it.
Without other tools at hand, he used a crumpled water bottle to pour hot water over his scalp, soaping and rinsing his hair, getting out all the grime.
Kiv was back on the sofa, wrapped in a towel, by the time he finally spoke.
“Got a razor?” His voice was small and hoarse.
“Hm?”
Kiv grazed his chin with a bandaged finger. “I can't…" His voice trailed off. He finished the thought with shaky words, nearly silent.
"Suppose that's the one good thing about being injured: you get to skip the ice bath."
Here on AO3
Dani hummed contentedly as he slid further down the lip of the soaking tub.
"Feeling good there, muchacho?"
"Yes," he answered, the final letter thick on his tongue. "You should join me, amigo. The heat is wonderful. Much better than the recovery pods."
Jamie chuckled. "No doubt. Suppose that's the one good thing about being injured: you get to skip the ice bath. Here, lift your head up."
With tremendous effort, Dani forced himself to sit upright. He shifted his thigh to the side so that Jamie could refill the small ice bucket he’d confiscated from the minibar. Jamie dragged the bucket through the water, and Dani watched, mesmerised by how the swirl of his tattoos shattered under the ripples. When his arm broke back through the surface, trails of suds dripped down to his elbow, and that too was a collage of beauty: all tensed muscle and delicate lines of ink painted over with bubbles on a landscape.
Dani had never considered himself much of a photographer – the majority of the photos he took were of friends and family – but the sight of his friend, with his grey t-shirt clinging wet and his lip bit tight in concentration, filled Dani with a love so strong that he yearned to be able to capture the memory of it in his heart forever.
Dani was also on very good drugs.
He swiped his arm out lazily. As if by magic, his fingers found Jamie's wrist, and they slotted around the bones and taper like a mountain climber grasping for purchase on the rocks.
Cruelly, Jamie pulled away. "Hang on there, let me finish this first. Can’t have you getting all tangled up. Now come on, be a lad for me, yeah? Eyes closed."
Huffing, Dani closed his eyes. He was rewarded. Nudging him to tilt his head back, Jamie slowly tipped the water over his hair. His fingers were careful as they combed through the strands, helping the blissfully warm water to rinse him clean.
Where the soap ran down Dani's shoulders, his bruises tingled. The bubbles were feather light, nothing capable of hurt, but the sensation awoke nerves that had been blissfully rendered mute with the application of magic spray and painkillers. From what Dani had briefly glimpsed in the mirror, the bruising would be spectacular by morning.
But that was tomorrow. Tonight, the water was blissfully, painfully hot against the swollen ache of his ribs, and Dani wanted for nothing.
"There we go!" Jamie clicked his tongue, a happy noise that made Dani smile. A clatter echoed through the bathroom as the plastic bucket was tossed somewhere across the tile. "Clean as a whistle. I'd condition it for you, but our bags ain't been brought up yet. Unless you want me to go grab 'em...?"
His voice trailed off in a question. Perhaps Dani wanted for one thing.
"Stay?" he asked. Once more, Dani tried to catch his friend before he could leave, but this time the bruises won the battle. With a sobering splash, his arm flopped limply back into the water.
Jamie fished his arm back out. Deft hands undid the gauze wrapped around his palm. The abrasions were minor, but still his friend skipped the terry towel in favour of patting it dry with the soft cotton front of his shirt. Once satisfied, Jamie manoeuvred Dani's arm into a more comfortable position against his side, but he kept a hold of his hand, twining their thumbs together so that Dani wouldn't slip under the surface again.
Finally, Jamie cleared his throat. "Sure. Yeah, I can stay,"
He gave Dani's hand a quick squeeze. Then, in an equally quick motion, he pressed his forehead against the back of their entwined hands.
"I can stay," he repeated, his voice rich with the same beauty as his tattoos under dappled water. "I'm here all night. You want me to turn the jets on?"
Dani smiled. He closed his eyes. "Yes. Thank you, amigo."
He did not need to see to hear the love in his friend's voice. "Whatever you need, muchacho."
CW : platonic undressing, platonic nudity(nothing graphic), ummm recovering whumpee. Hmmm, I couldn't think of anything else lol
Caretaker was out of options. Promising Whumpee their favorite food, a trip to the park, they even suggested rescuing a puppy or kitten to keep whumpee company. All denied.
Caretaker sighed softly and hung their head. "Whumpee...you need a bath. I know the water is scary, but I'm right here. It won't hurt you while I'm here."
Whumpee eyed the tub, squeezing the plush pillow closer to their chest. Their voice faint and rough, "c-c-can-nt...m-m-mo-ove..."
Caretaker padded over, socks muffling any loud steps that might send Whumpee running to hide again. "How about we do this together, hm? I'll be right next to you."
Whumpee looked at Caretaker, eyes searching their face for intention. After a few moments they nodded, fingers tightening on the plush. "O-okay....c-c-can try....tog-gether..."
Caretaker smiled and gently guided Whumpee further into the room. As Caretaker pulled off their own shirt Whumpee set the plush carefully near the tub, within easy grasping distance. Whumpee hesitated, just watching as Caretaker undressed. Caretaker knew they must be waiting for this to turn wrong. They looked over at Whumpee, "Would you like some help? The washing machine will take care of your clothes, they'll weigh you down in the tub."
Whumpee lowered their head and nodded; hands trembling as they gripped the hem of the shirt. With Caretaker's help, they got undressed, tossing aside the garments in a heap.
Whumpee was trembling all over. Caretaker took one of their hands and placed their free hand on Whumpee's back, taking each step in tandem closer to the tub. Caretaker put one foot in and waited for Whumpee to do the same. "I'm right here...we'll do this together."
After a few shakey deep breaths Whumpee lifted and hesitantly put one foot in. Their trembling turned to shaking, but Caretaker kept their hands soft, not pushing or pulling, waiting for Whumpee to make the next move. Soon they each hand both feet in the warm water and side-by-side crouched and sat down.
Caretaker smiled and gently squeezed Whumpees hand. "You're doing amazing. Remember, I'm right here. You can tell me to stop at any time." Onehanded, Caretaker got a small cup and gently poured water down Whumpees arms and back.
As they lifted the cup towards Whumpee's head a frightened, "Sto-o-op..!" Came out of Whumpee. Caretaker froze and lowered the cup, fingers rubbing the back of Whumpees hand. "Alright...we can soap up other areas first...but we will have to at least rinse your hair before we finish. Okay?"
Whumpee nodded, a small whimper leaving their lips. Caretaker waited patiently for them to calm before taking the soapy sponge and washing their body. The water around them swirled and slowly changed from clear to tan to almost a brown by the time Caretaker finished.
Caretaker drained and refilled the water, giving Whumpee more time to prepare for their hair. They even wet a soft cloth and wiped their face. "Ready for your hair? It'll be just the same, water, soap, water again..."
Whumpee shivered and their hand grasped the plush they had left near the tub. They took several deep breaths then nodded, "r-r-ready..." Caretaker smiled and tilted Whumpee's head back, carefully rinsing the tangled strands and ensuring no water fell down their face.
They kept an eye on Whumpee's expression as they worked. Hands gently massaging their scalp and loosening the debris as they worked. Caretaker dripped shampoo onto their head, "Nearly there...still okay? Still with me?" Whumpee's eyes rolled upwards to see Caretaker and gave a stiff nod, "St-til...h-h-here..."
Caretaker smiled and went back to rubbing Whumpee's scalp and scrubbing their hair. Quickly, Whumpee's natural color overtook the dingy grey that had infiltrated. With a few rinses, nearly all the dirt had been removed and Caretaker helped Whumpee sit up.
Just as they had in the beginning, Caretaker moved alongside Whumpee as they got up and out of the tub. Caretaker grabbed a towel and placed it around Whumpees shoulders. "You did wonderfully. I am very proud of you."
Whumpee pulled the plush to their chest and wrapped themselves in the towel. Caretaker mentally took note the pillow would need a washing soon also.
The bath water had long since stopped being clear and was now dyed a mix of pink and grey. But as terrible as the water looked, A was beginning to look much better.
They'd shown up a mess cuts, some deeper than others, and badly bruised. After cleaning and covering some of the more serious injuries, B was anxious to get A into bed where they could rest. With a more analytic glance, B decided a bath was in order. A was barely conscious so a shower was out of the question, and they needed some way of washing away their ordeal.
B gently worked their fingers through A's hair. Before it had been stiff with dirt and blood but was now easing up with the application of their favorite mint shampoo. A let out a sigh and seemed to relax a little deeper into the water with the gentle ministrations.
'Thank you.' The whisper was soft, but B caught it nonetheless.
'Of course', B smiled. 'Just relax. I've got you.'
Oswald's Torment
AuguSnippets: Day #02 - Platonic Bathing
@augusnippets
Contents: Living doll whumpee/non-human whumpee
Wordcount: 265
Marissa sighed as she plucked the soaked toy off the ground. “David, honey? Didn’t Jess leave this doll outside?” She called, giving an almost pitying expression towards the messy albeit inanimate stuffy. Oswald was its name, or her name, as Jess insisted. She smiled slightly, remembering the way her daughter had refused any other name aside from it. Not much use in fighting a six year old on the name of a plush, however.
“Huh? Yeah, thought so,” her husband, David said, before shrugging. He went back to loading the dishwasher after a moment. Marissa sighed, heading to a bathroom. Oswald was hand washed only and with how thick the grime was, it’d need quite the scrubbing.
Plugging the drain, she filled the sink with warm water, gently dunking the plush lamb. She paid special attention to getting the muck from its braids. Marissa began to hum softly, beginning to lather a good amount of dish soap into the soft wool and felt. The water turned a brownish color as she washed the doll.
Marissa drained the water before thoroughly rinsing Oswald. She furrowed her brows when for a fraction of a second, she could see the doll smile slightly. It was just her imagination, of course, there was no other explanation for it. She was rougher as she wrung it to make absolutely sure it was dry.
“Mama, where’s Oswald!?” Came an upset screech from Jess’ room. Jess came running down the hall when she heard her mother call out. She snatched Oswald, holding her to her chest like the prized possession she was.
okay woo I've got this and the next three parts after this pretty much all set which is so good of me. how prepared am i ???
anyway here's the penultimate comf chapter before we get into some flashback stuff. platonic bathing trope my beloved <3
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masterlist
warnings: blood, past torture, description of wounds, nonsexual nudity, basically just more comf but they are both sad and awkward about it
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Oh, what a fool he was.
He’d been doing everything he could not to anger the witch. He didn’t want to draw her ire just as he had with the angel and now he’d gone and ruined it. He must have, surely, for there was no other way he would think she’d respond to this situation. She was going to leave—had even told him as much—and here he was, asking her not to like he had any right to dictate her decisions at all. He had no will. No choice. No freedom here. She was the one in control and he was at her mercy, and he knew that. He knew how easy it would be for her to call the proper authorities and have him disposed of, or for her to simply do it herself. He was in no condition to fight back against anyone or anything, not in his wretched state, and he was wholly dependent on the kindness she continued to show him for some reason that might forever elude him. And now he demanded more of her? What a fool he was to think he still wielded that kind of power.
“Okay. I’ll stay.”
Her words came hesitant, more than a little unsure, but they broke the demon out of his spiraling thoughts. His head snapped up at the same time a gasp escaped his lips. He watched her, hands fidgeting with the cloth of her shirt. She gave him a smile and a little nod, as if to reassure him of her decision. She didn’t even look angry.
It was enough to know that she would even agree at all. She didn’t have to do what he said, and he knew that he had no power in this situation, yet she agreed all the same. The demon found himself echoing her same smile without meaning to, though his was a crumpled copy of hers, shaky and uneven. It seemed to have an effect on her, for her eyes softened, and she stopped fidgeting.
The demon realized he’d just been standing there silently like an idiot, and snapped himself out of whatever trance he was in. He blamed the blood loss. Or perhaps that dreadful trek through the city that had him stumbling over every cobblestone until he felt as if his bones had been ground into fine powder. That must have been the reason for the clouded, lightheaded feeling he had filling his mind.
He stepped over to the bath and ran his fingers through the water. He breathed out a sigh, his shoulders drooping. The warmth felt good, especially after having his wounds cleaned out with ice cold water. He’d have preferred it warmer, but just as the witch had gotten up to get it, a pang of fear so strong shot through him that it propelled him into the monumentally stupid decision of grabbing her wrist.
The demon had been shocked to find out even that wasn’t enough to test the witch’s patience and have him sent back to his former torment, or to an even greater one. He’d grabbed her without warning, and she’d clearly been frightened by the encounter. He could see it in her eyes.
And yet.
She didn’t hurt him. She stayed by his side.
The demon looked over his shoulder. The witch sat on the chair by the door, hands folded nicely in her lap. She bit the inside of her cheek and looked around the room like she had the intention of counting every tile and board that had been used to build it.
He didn’t know what had caused him to grab her like that back then. Or, why now, he had a fear so strong of her leaving that it overpowered his logical reasoning. He shouldn’t be asking for more from her on top of what she was already giving him.
He just…didn’t want to be alone.
Which was ridiculous. He’d been left alone in his cell whenever the angel had left. He’d been alone when trapped in the summoning circle after the witch had gone home for the day.
“Do you…need me to turn around, or…?” the witch asked, her words hesitant.
The demon tilted his head to the side. “Huh?”
The witch’s cheeks flushed and she looked to the side, biting her lip. She gestured loosely at him and the bath.
The demon realized at once what she meant. He’d nearly forgotten since it had been so long since he’d had a proper bath, once that wasn’t filled with holy water and meant to make him scream and thrash.
“Um, yeah, uh. Yes, please. If you will,” he stammered.
He grimaced at the delivery, wondering where all his eloquence had gone and if it had been bled out of him along with everything else. The witch said nothing of it. She merely turned around and the demon slipped out of his threadbare clothes and into the bath.
The water was lovely. The witch had managed to heat it to the perfect temperature for it to relax his tense muscles without aggravating his wounds. Nothing stung. Nothing burned. The demon allowed his eyes to close and sunk deeper, letting the steam envelop him.
He relished the feeling of becoming clean again, ridding himself of the grime of his cell and the dried blood he’d thought he’d never be free of. He inhaled the scent of whatever oils the witch had added to the bath—lavender, most likely—and scrubbed his arms and legs with the soap she had on the windowsill next to the bath. He couldn’t think of words to describe how it was to rid himself of the filth of his cell, of his torment, and to come back to himself and his body. He felt more like himself again with each passing moment.
The problem, because something always invariably went wrong when he was involved, presented itself in the form of his back and hair. He’d no way to wash the bloody scars there, even when he knew that was where the worst of it lie. Gods, he knew. And while he tried slipping down into the water to wet his hair, the movement aggravated his broken ribs and had him wincing and clutching the side of the tub.
He opened his eyes to find the witch at his side.
He jolted, sending water splashing over the edge. The witch backed away, though not before it caught her skirts, dotting them with the filthy water.
The demon ducked his head in what he hoped passed for bowing in his current position. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I—I didn’t—I—” he stumbled over his words.
Stupid.
He’d gotten carried away. He’d allowed himself to think he was anything other than a disgrace, a toy, a sinner. Too caught up in the luxury of warm water to clean his skin, he’d forgotten himself and dirtied the very same person who’d showed him nothing but compassion.
The witch held her hands out, palms facing him. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”
She put her fingertips to his shoulder, the slightest touch, as if he were something fragile and precious and he didn’t understand—
His breath caught in his chest. Hitched. He looked up at her, kneeling beside him.
“You don’t have to apologize,” she said, and the demon couldn’t see it as anything other than a lie.
Of course he had to apologize. He had so many things to apologize for—for being evil, for hurting people, for his past, for his actions, for being what he was, for being a sinner.
“I’m sorry I startled you,” the witch continued. “You just looked like you were in pain.”
The demon swallowed. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
A soft kind of sadness overtook the witch’s expression then, one he had seen many times in the short time they’d known each other. The demon had no idea he could cause that kind of tenderness to appear on anyone, or that they’d ever waste it on the likes of him.
“I can help you, if you like,” the witch said. She paused, bit her lip again. “Or would that be weird?”
“Please.”
The witch nodded and repositioned herself at his back. She took his filthy, disgusting hair in her hands like it didn’t matter at all to her that it was matted with blood and grime. She set one hand on his cheek and told him to tilt his head back if he could and to close his eyes. He obeyed, leaning into her palm. It was like that of the angel’s—causing him pain with just a touch. It didn’t burn his skin though, not like what he’d experienced over and over again, but elicited a deep ache inside him from some unknown place that filled him to the brim with longing. He wanted at once to avoid it and to experience it forever so that this ache would never leave him, no matter how much it hurt.
He felt the witch pour water over his hair once, twice, and again. She didn’t yank on it or use her hold over him to drag him from the bath and across the floor, like he knew the angel would have done. Had done.
She just rinsed his matted locks, taking care to shield his eyes from the warm water by placing her free hand at the peak of his forehead. He even shut his eyes, allowing them to drift closed without as much fear as he thought he would have in the situation. She had complete control over him—but then again, when hadn’t she? And yet the witch had not once intended to use to hurt him.
The protection ward on the door he could understand. He was a sinner—in his past, he—
The demon shuddered, and it had nothing to do with the temperature of the water. Yet that was how the witch must have taken it. She leaned over to his side, her face appearing in his field of view from a slant. She once again asked him if it was too cold and if he was comfortable. The demon could only nod, then correct himself when he realized she wouldn’t know which answer he was nodding in response to. He hadn’t been this comfortable in ages. Warm water that wasn’t blessed, didn’t burn. He wasn’t hurting. He was clean.
The witch returned to her work, gently threading her fingers through his hair to try and remove the knots. She could have pulled on them or cut them—a thought that caused the demon to grimace. It seemed he still had the last vestiges of his former vanity clinging to him like wet cloth on skin.
But she didn’t. She worked with more care than the demon knew he warranted and he couldn’t help but sigh. He tilted his head back into her waiting hands, eyes closed, on the verge of drifting off to sleep from the exhaustion that plagued him and the effects of being immersed in warm water.
“Hey, we’re almost done,” the witch told him.
A hand came to his shoulder and gently shook him awake. The demon opened his eyes and looked up at her from where he lay. She peered down at him, her auburn hair falling around her face. The demon held his breath for a reason he could not name.
In the end, the witch never left him. She sat in the chair she had by the door, which was really more a stool and too small for anyone to comfortably sit on for any long stretch of time, her back turned away from the demon as he emerged from the tub. The water sloshed to the floor, pink and grotesque, and the demon scowled at it. He quickly dried himself, which meant scraping fabric over his open wounds way more haphazardly than he would have liked. As soon as the towel touch the raw lashes on his back, he gasped, a sound as quiet as any but not nearly enough. The witch picked up on it, was about to turn, then stopped herself.
“You alright?” she asked.
The demon nodded, stupidly. She couldn’t even see him.
“Quite,” he replied.
In truth, it stung to try and slide the fabric over his body, but he wanted to move quickly so he could dry the water from the floor before the witch turned around. She’d already done so much for him. She’d stayed in the room even when he could see she’d have preferred to be elsewhere, but it was him and his stupid fear of not wanting to be left alone that had him aching for her to remain in his sight so she could remind him that he was out. He wasn’t there anymore. He wasn’t trapped in a cell or heading inevitably toward an eternity trapped in a burning lake where the others disposed of their trash. He was here.
Free.
Sort of.
He remembered the soul bond the two of them shared, and figured he’d deal with the consequences of it later.
*hello all! this no context snippet contains characters that haven’t been featured on my blog before now but they are part of a larger story i’ve been working on. meet jude and luke (and nathan although he’s only mentioned)*
Jude was already tingeing the bath water pink, seconds after lowering himself into it. The hot water lapped at and stung the lashes across his back and chest but he sighed softly through his teeth and sunk further down into the tub.
Luke eyed him carefully. He could make out a few welts the shape of a belt buckle.
Jude would never talked much whenever Nathan brought him back to the cell, but then again Luke wasn’t sure what he’d say back anyway. He had to start trying.
Jude’s eyes were shut but twitching wildly and his breathing was still labored. Tears started to cut through the dust on his face.
Luke came a little closer.
“Hey,” he tried.
Jude made an inquisitive noise but it came out like a whimper.
“Is it okay if I touch you? I’ll be really gentle.”
Jude’s eyes opened and he looked up at the man standing over him.
“I’m okay I think. I don’t need stitches or anything, he didn’t,” Jude choked
down something desperate, “he didn’t do anything too bad.”
“No,” Luke said, “it’s not that I just-I don’t want you to forget what soft feels like.”
The pair stared at eachother and Jude nodded, understanding.
“Okay.”
Luke circled behind the tub now facing the back of Jude’s head.
“Tell me to stop and I will, okay? Right away.”
Jude nodded and held his breath a few seconds when he felt Luke’s fingers in his hair. He felt himself relax into the touch almost immediately.
Luke dipped his hands into the water, cupped it, and let it run over Jude’s scalp. He picked at the boy’s long dark waves and did his best to undo the little knots and tangles, taking great care not to tug at it too hard.
Jude was sinking in on himself in ecstasy, his eyes shut, chills running down his neck and shoulders. He reminded Luke of a cat somehow, just short of purring.
“Do you like your hair to be this long?” Luke asked, continuing to finger comb through it.
“I don’t know, I can’t exactly get it cut,” Jude replied.
“I could ask him, I don’t know. I can ask for some shampoo or something too. I have no clue what he’ll let me have,” Luke said.
“I just don’t want him to take you away,” Jude spoke so softly Luke barely heard it. But he did hear it and it made him take pause. He tried to think of something to say but Jude stayed quiet so he just began running his fingers through the boys hair again and again.
The two sat like that in the quiet for what felt like ages. Just the tiny drip from the tap and Jude’s little sighs broke the silence.
Eventually Luke thought he’d fallen asleep like this but he kept going hoping to get every knot or to at least keep him relaxed. He was surprised when he spoke up again.
“Nathan, better not give you any scissors for my hair,” Jude started, leaning his head back against Luke’s touch before finishing,
Summary: After Thalia's death, Luke had to help Annabeth with everything. In hopes of lifting her spirits and finally getting her cleaned off, Luke decided it was time to get her to take a bath.
"Annabeth come on." It had been a few days since Annabeth, Luke, Grover and Thalia arrived at camp. It had been a few days since they had lost Thaila. "You need to get up."
"No." Annabeth whispered. "I don't want to."
Luke sighed. "Please. You need to get out of the bed." He walked over to her with heavy, regretful footsteps. "I miss her too but you have to get up."
"No." The girl pulled her blanket up further. "I can't."
Sitting beside her bed, Luke sighed. "I know it hurts but we have to try. How about we start with a bath?" stretching his arm out to his little sister, he tried to get her to take his hand.
A little hand grabbed his hand softly. "Okay."
With a soft smile, Luke picked some clothes for her and went to meet her. He helped her put her shoes on and waited for her to stand up. "Annabeth? Are you okay?" He asked gently.
The girl started to cry. "I miss her."
"I know. I do too. Here let's try this." Grabbing his bag, Luke put her clothes in it. Then he slowly picked her up. "Is this okay?" The girl nodded and snuggled into the boys chest. "Okay."
The walk to the big house wasn't a long one. Knocking, Luke waited for Chiron to open the door. When he did, Luke informed him that they would be using his bath. Chiron nodded and led them to the bathroom and grabbed a towel. "Let me know if you need anything."
"We will, thank you."
Once in the bathroom, Luke put Annabeth down and locked the door. Then he stopped up the tub. He let the water run warm and put some soap in the water. The boy hoped that a bubble bath might help Annabeth start to feel better. "Okay." He started, still looking at the tub. "You ready?"
When he turned around he realized the girl hadn't moved since he put her down.
It was like she was frozen. Annabeth might not have been physically hurt but her mind was so damaged it paralyzed her. Luke knew he needed to help her, no matter what. It didn't matter how people could see it or how uncomfortable he might be, Annabeth needed him. She couldn't do anything on her own right now. Luke knew Annabeth needed help. He had been making sure she ate, drank, and got up to use the bathroom. As her older brother, it was his job to be there for her.
"Okay. Do you need any help? I can help you." Once more Luke offered her his hand. This time she just looked at him for a moment. Then she slowly nodded. Carefully he removed her shoes and clothes before picking her up and placing her in the warm water. "How's that?"
Annabeth nodded. Shutting the water off, Luke let his sister soak in the water for a moment. It had been so long since they had gotten a chance to bathe. Sure they had gotten to shower but there was always something about letting the water seep into your skin and bones. The hotter the water, the better. However for Annabeth, the water was lukewarm.
Trying to see if Annabeth would wash herself, Luke looked around the bathroom. He hadn't been there before. The walls were mostly just white with some gold trim. After a while Luke asked "You doing okay?"
Annabeth stared at him. Sighing, the boy grabbed the sponge and put some soap on it. "I've got you." Taking show shampoo in his hand, Luke started to massage it into her hair. She seemed to relax as he washed it out. Then he grabbed the conditioner and repeated the process. Gently, Luke took the sponge to her skin. The soap had a fresh, earthy smell to it.
After cleaning her off, Luke drained the tub. Picking her up, he put her on the bath mate. He grabbed the blue towel and wrapped Annabeth in it. "It's your favorite color." Luke smiled. Annabeth tried to.
Looking on the counter, Luke found the hair dryer and plugged it in. "Let's get your hair dry." It took a while before Luke got her blonde hair dry but when he did it was soft. Brading it made it easier to maintain so he did. Brushing her long hair would take energy that Annabeth wouldn't have for a while.
Luke helped his sister get dressed before tying her shoes. "Do you want to go anywhere?"
"Your cabin" Annabeth whispered.
Slightly chucking, Luke smiled. "Okay." He stood and offered his hand to her, trying to get her to walk. With a lot more force than she had used before, Annabeth took his hand and stood up. A wave of relief washed over Luke as they walked to his cabin. Maybe a clean start was what she needed.
