hella cluttered mind

You looked up at the sound of footsteps coming down the staircase and then into the kitchen. It was Vasquez, a warm smile on his face and a flush on his cheeks, his dark hair a little curlier and more rumpled than usual. “I thought I might have heard you come in,” he said.

“I said I was here,” you said.

“I’m sorry, I must have missed it. Long day?”

You nodded, taking another slow draw from your glass. You knew it wasn’t a particularly smart idea to drink because you were stressed, but you never let yourself do so, and if you were going to any time, now seemed fair. With three major tests coming up, your workload had never felt heavier. “Very. You?”

“Not so much,” he said. He was working at a stable on the edge of town. You knew he liked the work, and you often envied him, until you thought about the fact that you would likely grow bored quickly in his role. “Did you eat yet?” he asked.

“Yeah, on the way home,” you answered.

“Good. Can you come upstairs?” “I’m really not in the mood, Vas-“

“No, not for that, pervert,” he teased, but you couldn’t find the energy to smile. “Just come with me.”

“Okay.” You refilled your glass and followed him. Your steps up the stairs were slow, and you paused halfway, perplexed, when the gentle scent of lavender reached your nostrils. “What’s that?”

“Just come here,” Vasquez said, holding out a hand to you. You took it, and he led you into the bedroom as the smell intensified, the air growing humid as you neared the door. Inside, a copper tub was filled nearly to the brim with bubbles, hot steam curling into the air, and a selection of soaps sat on a fruit crate standing on its end next to the tub with a pair of candles next to them. A fire crackled in the fireplace, a kettle hanging over it, and your old teapot sat on a tray on the hearth with several scones, a set of mugs next to them. Your mouth hung open for a moment, incredulous, and then tears came to your eyes. He was looking at you, and his smile turned suddenly to concern and pity. “No, no, don’t cry!” He wrapped you in an embrace, his long fingers rubbing the base of your skull, and it felt so wonderful you let your neck go limp, resting your head against his chest as he worked on the tired muscles. “This is perfect,” you murmured. Somehow it felt your worries had melted away, and the stressors of your day retreated, locked outside the gate of this sanctuary Vasquez had made. You felt his fingers unfastening your clothing, and stood there as he did so. The restricting garments fell away piece by piece until you stood naked and unashamed before him. He clasped your upper arms and looked deep into your eyes, and even though he had done so so many times, you still felt your breath catch a little at the intensity of the love in his dark eyes. “You’re beautiful,” he said, and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Now get in before it gets cold.”

You nodded and disentangled your feet from the pile of clothes, and crossed the few steps to the tub. You dipped your toes in, and they burned for a moment, the heat chasing out the numbness shockingly quickly. Then you stepped in, beginning to lower yourself into the water, and it felt that the more of your body the water surrounded, the more weariness and stress disappeared. You settled your back against the curve of the end of the tub, the water up to your chin, the lavender scent calming, and your muscles relaxing in the heat.

“I wasn’t sure which soap you’d like best so I got a bunch of them,” Vasquez said, and you couldn’t find the words to answer. You did small things for each other all the time, and the strength of your love was shown in the sacrifices you both had made. But for him to do something this special, at one of your most challenging times - it meant more than you knew how to say.

“Thank you,” you said, hoping you could convey your sincerity in the simple words.

“You’re welcome, mi amor.” He poured you a cup of tea and you watched as he prepared it just the way you liked - Lord, did he know you well - and you took a slow sip when he handed it to you. It warmed where the whiskey had scorched, soothed where it had enflamed, and you closed your eyes, letting your other senses take over. You heard chair legs shift behind you and then gasped as Vasquez’s fingers dug into your shoulders, his hands strong and nimble, digging into the aches that had accumulated through the hours of leaning over a desk.

“You’re incredible,” you muttered, and heard him chuckle.

He continued massaging the muscles of your arms and shoulders until it felt that they had all turned to mush, and he kept adding more hot water to the tub, from time to time emptying some out so that it didn’t overflow. You experimented with the soaps he had picked, each scent unique and alluring - orange, cardamom, mint, and bergamot - and let him lead your body as he washed your hair with something that smelled of coconut.

As you drank your second cup of tea, he began to read to you from a book of poetry, and you focused on the images he made, his voice rising and falling with the flow of the words. Still he kept the water warm, and the sun outside was long gone, the glow of the candles friendly and intimate. You gradually lost all sense of time, settling into near-sleep with your head resting on the back of the tub. “I’d better get you to bed before you fall asleep in there,” he said at last, and the spell broke. You blinked, and suddenly guilt crept into your chest.

“Don’t you want to get in?” you asked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t ask.”

“No, this was for you,” he said. “Don’t think about it. Besides, do you realize how badly I would get teased if I showed up to work smelling like flowers and fruits?”

You laughed, and reluctantly stood, taking the towel Vasquez handed you to dry your hair. “You could probably use it.”

“Are you saying I smell?” he asked, an expression of mock-offense on his face.

“No!” you exclaimed. “You smell wonderful, most of the time.” You got to work drying off your body, and your skin felt soft and sensitive, your whole body flushed from the heat.

He laughed. “I can live with that.” He handed you your robe, and you slipped into it and tied off the waist.

“I want to thank you for this,” you said. “It means so much to me. It- it was perfect. I don’t know how to express my gratitude.”

“I do,” he said. “Go to bed, get some sleep. I’ll join you in just a few minutes.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, but at his words you remembered how tired you were, and you were so warm, the lingering heat from the bath wrapping around you more tightly than your robe.

“I’m sure,” he said. “Go get comfortable.”

You obeyed, and as soon as you laid your head on the pillow, you let the tiredness you had been weakly attempting to stave off all night take you over. You began to drift off to the quiet sounds of Vasquez emptying the bath and cleaning up the room, and just before you fell asleep, you felt him climb into bed next to you. He gently turned your body, pulling you closer to him, and you rested your head on his shoulder, eyes closed, breathing in his familiar scent. “I love you,” you murmured sleepily, and he kissed your forehead.