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,” 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.
“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.
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.
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