#bath whump

tw: non-sexual nudity

with much hesitation, A (whumpee) finally agrees to a bath. at least they can be clean for the first time since their capture. A undresses and gets into the bath that B (caretaker) has run for them. they’re surprised to find that it’s not freezing cold or boiling hot - it’s a little over lukewarm, a nice comfortable temperature.

Masterlist

Tropes and CWs: Hunter caretaker, everyone’s favourite bathing trope, a little bit of touch starvation.

The bath was the next logical step. Mika waited until the following morning before he drew up water from the well outside; filling the tub always took a while, and he didn’t feel like carrying buckets in the dark. Ari sat on the grass and watched him stoke the outdoor fire. Even with the sun as hot as it was, Mika doubted Ari would want to sit in freezing water. Best to get it tepid at the very coldest.

“I don’t really bother with all this,” he admitted as the flames licked the underside of the water-pot. “Normally I just… use a wet cloth, or jump in the lake down there. Baths are a bit of a waste, really.”

Ari stared at the flames, then back at the waiting tub.

“But you can’t walk far, and you’re filthy. No offence,” Mika added hastily, as though it mattered. “But it’d be nice to not have to smell you. It’ll help with the healing as well.”

Ari peered over the lip of the tub as Mika poured more water in. It was as clean as it was going to get. A few specks of grass seed had found their way in there, and a fly was doing backstroke in the water. Mika retrieved the fly and flicked it away. “Ready?”

Ari looked up at the sun, dispensing muggy heat into the trees. He stuck a finger into the tub to test the temperature, scooping some of the water up in his hand.

“Don’t drink it,” Mika said, wishing his words weren’t necessary.

The water slipped through Ari’s fingers, making splashes. He used the side of the tub for support as he stood up. Mika helped him get in, pausing only when he realised Ari still wore his undergarments. “What about—”

Redness emerged beneath the grime on Ari’s cheeks. A little piece of humanity, fighting through a mind that was still half-feral and preoccupied with survival. He sat down in the bath with a slosh. “Sapast?” he asked Mika.

“Uhh. Oh. You want soap?” Mika had a full bar of it. Ari took it with both hands. “Use as much as you need. Honestly, it’s fine. Get yourself clean.”

“Soap?” Mika couldn’t tell if Ari was asking a question, or if he was simply mimicking the rising intonation.

“Yeah. I assume you know what to do with it.”

Ari used his good hand to wash himself. He stopped when he got to his hair. The little flush came back as he looked to Mika. “Vabrastki. Voika.”

“Help?”

“Help,” Ari repeated, a little uncertainly. He gave the soap to Mika.

“You know, I can’t tell if you’re picking up words or if you’re just repeating what I say.” Still, Mika made a point of taking the soap. “Thank you.”

Ari smiled a sheepish smile. The th sound did not lend itself to easy reproduction. But he used the word vabrastki again. Mika wondered if it was a stand-in for his name. “You can call me Mika, you know.”

This time the smile became almost… a smirk? The sun streamed onto the back of Mika’s neck, burning the exposed skin. It was difficult to shake off the sense he was being made fun of. “All right. Get your hair wet.”

The soap barely lathered the first time Mika used it. It only started foaming after he rinsed Ari’s hair and tried again. Ari squeezed his eyes shut as brown water ran past in rivulets. The tub already looked half full of mud. “You doing okay?”

Ari nodded, his hair slipping under Mika’s fingers. It seemed as though okay was a word they could both understand.

“All right, let’s rinse it.” He had vague memories of his father doing this for him when he was a small child. The motions felt comfortingly familiar even from the opposite perspective. Ari must have felt the same way, because he leaned into the water pouring from the pitcher. Mika had to physically manoeuvre him in order to get the last suds out of his hair. “You do realise you make it more difficult when you push against me?”

Ari grasped blindly for the soap Mika had left on the side of the tub.

“Sapast?” Mika said. He handed it over at Ari’s answering nod, and for a few moments there were no sounds except dripping water and the birdsong in the trees. A breeze ruffled Mika’s hair, carrying static. A storm was on its way. “Are you done? Here, take this.”

The towel had been his father’s, and probably his grandfather’s too. It had lost most of its ability to retain moisture, but Mika had always liked it. Ari seemed to like it too, because he spent more time drying his face than was strictly necessary. He tucked it around his shoulders and reached for Mika’s arm. “Voika?” he said.

Help. “Oh. Okay.”

“Th-thank you.” He was shivering a little now. Mika led him to the outside fire, wishing he’d had the foresight to stoke one in the cabin. A few drops of early rain hit the parched grass at their feet.

And then the clouds burst.

With Ari still so weak on his feet, Mika lost a couple of minutes getting them both inside. That couple of minutes was all the rain needed to soak him through. He shuddered like a cat as water ran down the back of his shirt and pooled on the floor. Ari, twisting the towel around his shoulder, looked no more bedraggled than he’d been before. He made eye contact with Mika, and Mika saw he was smirking again. Not a malicious smirk, but a mischievous one. He offered Mika the end of the sodden towel.

“Wow, thanks Ari.”

Ari laughed, a giddy bubbling sound—then stopped as though someone had slapped him. He blinked a couple of times, his brow creased, then bit down hard on his lip. Mika steered him to the fireside chair and sat him down.

“I’ll get you some clean clothes,” he promised, his words too quick. He hurried to the chest of spares he kept by the bed, leaving Ari staring into the unlit remnants of yesterday’s fire. A cowardly exit, and yet… it was easier to deal with feral Ari, screaming Ari, biting Ari. Not an Ari that burst with happiness one moment and looked set to cry on the next. He distracted himself with the spare clothes, finding things that might fit. When he came back, Ari’s eyes were red but mercifully dry.

“Here. These are for you.”

Ari took them cautiously, as though Mika were presenting a trap. Some of the walls were back up now. Mika wished he could tell what he was thinking.

“Thank you,” he mumbled finally.

Even knowing how small Ari was, Mika had still overestimated his size. The shirt drowned him, and it was just as well that the trousers fastened with cords that could be pulled tighter. He helped Ari fold back the sleeves until his hands emerged. “Either you’re tiny, or I’m a giant.” Maybe it was a little bit of both. It wasn’t as though he’d met enough people to really get a measure of how either of them stood against the general population. “Shall I put some food on?”

Ari tipped his head at the intonation. It wasn’t fair to keep asking questions he couldn’t understand. “Food,” Mika said, miming a rub of the belly and feeling more than a little stupid for doing so.

“Ah. Yavan.” Realisation cleared Ari’s face, and he nodded. “Voika?”

“What do you need—oh. You want to help me?” Mika had to do a little more gesturing to get his point across. When Ari nodded again, he felt a little mushier than usual. “Oh. No. No, you don’t have to help. You can rest.”

In the end, he got Ari to watch over the fire. Given his recent track record with knives, it felt safer than letting him loose on slippery meat. Ari seemed happy enough with his task, throwing on logs with his good hand and giving the flames a poke to keep them roaring. Once they’d gotten the food cooking, Mika sat on the hearth rug and enjoyed the scent of the brimming juices. The cabin smelled fresher than it had in days.

“Mika,” Ari said. His damp hair lay plastered to his scalp, apart from a little cowlick that refused to lie flat. The dancing flames glowed orange on his face, bringing warmth to the bluish undertones. “Thank you.”

“I’d do it again,” Mika said, and realised as he spoke that he meant it.

Part 8

TW: feverish whumpee, reluctant caretaker, implied familial abuse, BBU general warning, institutionalized slavery, forceful caretaker.

Flynn places the back of his hand on Kai’s forehead. His entire body is radiating heat better than the radiator in the living room. The small boy curls tighter under Flynn’s blankets, trying to keep his already too hot body warm.

“Kai bud,” Flynn says, “I’m going to take your temperature and I’m going to give you some ibuprofen, okay?”

Kai peaks out from under the blankets, face as red as his curls. He gives Flynn the tiniest of nods before dipping back under the covers.

Flynn stands, head spinning. He already knows that Kai is too hot and needs to get his temperature down without even seeing the thermometer. Fear eats at his fingertips as he steps in the bathroom and pulls open the mirror cabinet. Flynn stares at the thermometer for a second before leaning over and starting the tub.

I don’t have the money for a hospital trip.

He sets the water to the coldest setting and watches as the wave of ice-cold liquid spills into the stained bathtub. A sick feeling of dread fills every cavity of Flynn’s stomach as he pours a couple of pills into his hand.

He should have taken note sooner. Kai had started coughing a few days ago but Flynn assumed it was just a head cold. Flynn is punching himself for it now.

He steps back into his bedroom. Kai is still buried under mountains of pillows, cowering from the feelings of sickness plaguing him. Flynn kneels next to him. He runs his fingers gently through Kai’s curls and slowly, Kai emerges from the blankets. Kai uncovers his face and stares up at Flynn with sunken eyes and a reddened nose.

“Hey bud,” Flynn speaks, as calmly as he can despite his own terror, “I need you to sit up for me okay?”

Kai tries to push himself up. His curls leave the pillow just barely before his strength vanishes. Shallow breaths leave Kai’s throat, moving is a chore for him. Kai, violently shivering under the blankets, shifts around again but does not move an inch. His eyes look up at Flynn, a glazed pain ripples across his gaze.

Flynn holds up the thermometer and gives Kai a very soft smile, “I need to open up and put this under your tongue for me alright?”

Kai, with all of his visible strength, gives Flynn a tiny nod. He parts his lips just wide enough for the plastic to slide under his tongue. Flynn presses the button and sits next to the ill box boy. The thermometer beeps and Flynn takes it out of Kai’s mouth.

104.9

“Shit,” Flynn whispers to himself. The terror deepens to such valleys that the Mariana trench would be envious. “But we need to get your temperature down.”

Kai blinks up at Flynn weakly. He tries to pull the covers up over his head again but Flynn grabs them tenderly. Kai shivers against the warm air. A look of painful tiredness envelops Kai as Flynn peels the blanket off of him. Kai tries to limply grab after the sheets but the weariness in his arms keeps him bound by invisible ropes.

Flynn scoops him up under his arms and carries him to the bathroom. Kai squirms a little in his grasp, mewling at the temperature change. Using his foot, Flynn opens the bathroom door and sets Kai down on the counter.

"Open up bud," Flynn murmurs as he holds the ibuprofen to Kai's lips. Kai takes the pills surprisingly well for his condition. He reaches out and tries to press himself into Flynn's skin.

Flynn, with gentle hand, puts His hands back down at his sides. "I'm going to put you in the tub, it's gonna be cold but we need to get your temperature down."

Kai gets small, eyes staring at the tub filled with cold water. Sparks of shallow fear drip from his glassy eyes.

The look eats at Flynn like a fungus.

Flynn reaches out slowly and picks him up. Kai weakly tries to push Flynn away, the pressure akin to a butterfly flying through a hurricane. The panic in Kai's eyes only increases as Flynn dips him into the water.

Shaking his head, Kai limply kicks against the side of the bathtub. Flynn places a hand on Kai's knees and shushes him.

"We have to do this bud," Flynn says softly, "please bud."

Kai shakes his head as hard as he can, which isn't much. His breaths echo across the yellowed bathroom.

Flynn places a hand between Kai's shoulder blades and holds him up in the water. He can feel the cold lapping at his fingertips and the heat radiating off of Kai. Kai eventually stills and tries to lean into Flynn’s arm. Another round of coughs rip through Kai’s small chest.

Slowly, Kai drifts asleep in Flynn’s arms, his body slowly cooling.

Eventually, when the water goes lukewarm and Kai’s body cools enough to feel safe, Flynn scoops him out of the bath. While drying him, Kai stirs just enough, a weak mewl escaping his throat.

He carries Kai back to his bed and rests him on top of his sheets.

Here’s a snippet from my Chuuya Whump Bingo - #5: Made a Slave, where Chuuya is undergoing some nice cold hydrotherapy to cool his attitude.

Contents: hypothermia, hydrotherapy, asylum whump, bath whump

The chill water circulated around Chuuya’s skin, and his heart beat frantically as he tried to leverage the lid off up, but it was locked tight.  His legs kicked out, thumping hollowly, and his fingers scrabbled at the edges, at the seam down the middle, but there was nothing to grab onto.  He squirmed, trying to squeeze his fingers through the cutout his neck was trapped in, but to no avail.  It was shut tight.  He sat there, panting and shuddering under the onslaught of water pouring down. After several long minutes, he found himself wishing for the warm straightjacket.  But all he had to do was hold out.  It was just three hours in some cool water.  He crossed his arms and drew up his legs.  He could tough it out – he’d been in worse conditions before, he wasn’t hurt, wasn’t injured – just sitting in cold bathwater.