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Phichit turns his back while Yuuri gets into the bath, even though most of the hybrids claim they don’t care about clothing and human modesty. Maybe he wouldn’t bother for the other serows, but Yuuri’s such a sweet thing, strangely shy in moments but bold and brave in others, and Phichit can’t shake the human concepts of respect. He waits until Yuuri’s voice tells him in slightly accented English: “Okay.”
Alone in the small washing compartment in the back of the zoo, Phichit comes to kneel down against the tile. The room is scrubbed regularly, though hybrids are shuffled in and out all day, and three separate tubs are available in three separate nooks. Yuuri’s is about the same size as what Phichit has at home, but he’s filled the water with white bubbles, making the warm surface mostly opaque. Yuuri still sits with his knees pulled up to his chest, arms around them. His official zoo coverall is neatly folded by the tub—he’s always had good manners, though that particular one was surely human-learned. He would never have folded clothes in the wild. He wouldn’t have even worn clothes in the wild. Now he has a slick pair of expensive looking glasses perched on the bridge of his nose—a gift from his favourite patron. Phichit remembers the day that Yuuri first asked if he could keep them, before gushing over the handsome guest who’d gifted them to him. Phichit made sure the administrative staff left Yuuri’s glasses alone.
But for this, Phichit carefully plucks them off Yuuri’s face and sets them down on his clothes. They’ll likely fog up anyway, and Phichit needs to wipe down Yuuri’s face too—he’s supposed to clean Yuuri’s whole body. First he squirts some shampoo into his palm and starts lathering it into Yuuri’s black hair around his short horns and scruffy ears. Those ears twitch at Phichit’s ministrations—he carefully spreads the suds over the back of them too.
Yuuri’s quiet, even for him. Phichit finishes with the shampoo and reaches for the nozzle, rinsing it all out again, and Yuuri’s still said nothing by the end of it. As Phichit starts working in the conditioner, he asks, “How are you doing, Yuuri?”
Yuuri just shrugs his shoulders. Phichit tries, “How are your exhibit-mates?” Another shrug. “Have any interesting stories about any patrons?” Hybrids almost always have those, whether it’s complaints or amazement or amusement. As much as the hybrids look human, aside from ears and tails and a few other things, their minds seems so very different sometimes that Phichit once wondered if the whole lot of them were just stranded aliens.
Yuuri’s ears twitch again, which tells Phichit he’s onto something. Leaving the conditioner in to sit, he reaches for the bar soap—one specifically for Yuuri; the serow kit comes with three separate ones, each labeled with carved in initials. Phichit’s almost always tending to the serows, and he knows the bars by colour.
He brings the light blue one up to Yuuri’s back, and as he starts to scrub, Yuuri mumbles, “Victor came to visit me again today.”
“Good,” Phichit says, because by now he knows all about the one patron who’s miraculously managed to break through Yuuri’s shell. “You’re quite fond of him, aren’t you?” When Yuuri tenses, Phichit quickly adds, “It’s just... most of the animals don’t know the names of specific patrons.”
“Most patrons don’t realize the animals even have names,” Yuuri counters, which is fair enough. He doesn’t say it in a particularly sulky voice, but Phichit takes the hint. It’s true, and he’s sorry for it. Finished with Yuuri’s back, he twists to drag the bar across Yuuri’s arm.
Then, completely out of the blue, Yuuri quietly asks him, “How much do you think it would cost for someone to buy me from the zoo?”
Phichit freezes. He tries to look at Yuuri, but Yuuri averts his eyes. “Buy you...?”
“Well...” Yuuri starts, blushing thickly and looking anywhere but Phichit, “it’s just... I know one of the binturongs was bought by a private investor...”
“They were downsizing that exhibit,” Phichit explains, “and it’s not about the money. You’re not just an animal, Yuuri—you’re sentient. The zoo isn’t trying to just own and display you.” Then he pauses, because: “Well, okay, they do, but it’s more than that—they can take care of you and protect you. Hybrids are so endangered in the wild now...”
Yuuri winces. He mutters, “I know, and I’d never want to just wander off on my own, but... if I was with someone in particular...”
Knowing exactly who that someone is, Phichit sighs. He checks over his shoulder before he continues, but the door to the washing room is still firmly shut, and they’re still safely alone. He pauses his work on Yuuri’s knees as he asks, “Does Victor own land as big as the exhibit? Because you need fresh foliage to be healthy, and you can’t be kept indoors in a human household.”
Sniffing almost defiantly, Yuuri tries, “Maybe I could...”
It always sucks to cut Yuuri off, especially to tell him he can’t do something he’s set his mind to, but Phichit cares for Yuuri too much not to protest. “No, you couldn’t. You’re not a housecat, Yuuri—you can’t be cooped up.”
Yuuri bitterly draws his knees tighter to his chest, dislodging Phichit’s hand. Phichit lets out another sigh, trying to soften. He already feels bad for speaking harshly. He promises, “Victor can visit you here, and I really don’t think he’s going to stop doing that any time soon.”
Yuuri doesn’t say anything. Phichit leans closer to scrub his face—even that gets dirtied in the outdoor exhibit. Then it’s time to pull the nozzle back down and spray away the soap, then wash away the conditioner. The water’s darker for it afterwards, but Yuuri’s sparkling, pristine: the sort of gorgeous creature any patron would be lucky to see. The only problem is his frown.
As Phichit’s fetching a towel, Yuuri asks, “Have you ever tried figure skating...?”
Grinning broadly for both the subject change and the subject, Phichit comes back with the towel and sets in to tell Yuuri all about that fun.