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”... Sayori, I...”
Monika doesn’t think this is on the top ten list of “cures for insomnia”.
Sayori, however, thinks it will work. Very enthusiastically, actually. And when Sayori thinks something will work, well, good luck convincing her otherwise.
... granted, Monika, exhausted and eye-bagged and, dare she even say it, whiny was not making a very impressive case for why Sayori’s plan wouldn’t work. And so, here she sits; pouting over the kitchen table, kicking her feet listlessly under her chair and listening to the faint thrum of the bathtub filling upstairs.
Ordinarily, “just try taking a bath to unwind!” would actually sound like a passable idea. Unfortunately, nothing about Monika or Sayori’s situation was ordinary.
Maybe I can die from embarrassment before making it up the stairs.
Monika sighs, and clears her set of dishes from the table.
...
She can tell before she even steps through the door that Sayori added bubbles, and her pout upgrades immediately to a scowl.
A scowl that Sayori is taking in stride, it seems, as she hums pleasantly and waves enticingly to the glowering girl in the doorway.
... and, as annoyed as Monika is determined to be, she can’t storm away from Sayori in good conscience. So, she groans, hmphs, grimaces and steps fully into the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind her.
“There’s my girl~!” Sayori beams, stretching out her hands with a little presentative motion.
Oh, god, she’s so happy about it!
“... why,” Monika grouses, looking steadfastly at anywhere but Sayori’s guilelessly smiling face (ending up settling on her shirt’s buttons), “Would you even— bother with this. It’s been months.”
“Not since I’ve seen my lil’ green-bean, it hasn’t!”
The flush on Monika’s face deepens as does her frown - fidgeting with the buttons, now.
“That’s not great news. I don’t even know why you’d keep...”
“Bubble bath and lavender body wash?”
It’s that one stupid brand for babies, even, that Monika isn’t even entirely certain actually works on adults (what would the point of having separate soaps be otherwise?), which she is also steadfastly avoiding looking at in favor of uselessly pawing at her shirt buttons with shaky fingers and blurring vision.
“... yeah,” is all she says in retaliation, vaguely hoarse and now, she realizes, much too tired to earnestly drag on an argument. “Why.”
“... because I think my baby would be very sad, taking a bath with no bubbles...” Sayori says, softly, and Monika isn’t looking up so she sees not her face but her hands - gently pulling Monika’s wobbly fingers away from her shirt collar and slowly, but easily, undoing the buttons. “Isn’t that right?”
Not fair.
“... I wan’nid do d’— those,” Monika mumbles, less gracefully evading and more clumsily stumbling (toddling) around the question. Her cheeks are crimson with embarrassment as Sayori’s hands make quick work of the rest of the fiddly parts; the clasp on her bra, the button-and-zipper on her pants, but Sayori only giggles when she straightens back up and looks Monika in the face, eyes sparkling and positively besotted,
And kisses her on the nose.
“You’ve got all the time in the world to be a big girl, sweetheart. Please,” she asks, gentle - “Let me do the buttons for you? Tonight?”
A sigh, a deep, long sigh rushes between Monika’s lips, stinging tears prickling at the corners of her eyes for a moment before they’re blinked away.
“... otay,” she sniffles - and Sayori kisses her cheek before helping her step out of her jeans, her grownup bottoms, and (sitting heavily) her socks.
...
She doesn’t know how to feel about any of this.
... well. Not right. She knows how she’s feeling right now, sitting in a warm and bubble-filled tub that smells like green apples - she’s feeling soft and warm and fuzzy around all the edges, the same way she feels when Sayori whispers and cuddles and tucks her in even when she swears she doesn’t need it, the same way she felt when she was small and safe and happy.
But isn’t she supposed to be a grown up now?
Not now.
She drags her finger carefully through a cluster of bubbles, gasping quietly under her breath when they cling to her.
Not now.
Sayori is rubbing her back, gently, with the soft baby-washcloth that she still has, even though Monika is all big now and uses big people washcloths. There isn’t any soap on it but it still feels nice, soothing and warm, and Monika makes a soft noise in her throat as she leans back against Sayori’s hand.
“There’s my baby,” Sayori croons, and everything in Monika melts as her other hand rubs blissfully into the edge of Monika’s hair, like she was washing her hair before she really washed her hair. Mama was going to wash her hair, wasn’t she? Mama always washes baby Monnie’s hair at nighttime.
“M, Ma— aama,” Monika whines, surprised that the word seems so stuck in her throat. ”Mama,”
“Shhh, sh, it’s okay, sweetie. Mama’s right here.”
A tiny hiccup worms out of Monika’s chest.
“M, Mama!”
Why is she so sniffly over a bath? It’s just a bath. It has her favorite bubbles in it and it’s the right temperature, the little ducky in the tub is yellow so it must be. Mama presses a kiss to her forehead, humming gentle things, such nice things to say to a sad little baby, and Monika’s whimpers start to calm down. Mama’s still rubbing her back and hushing her sweetly and nothing is wrong, at least outside, and Mama’s right here and she’s safe.
“There we go,” Mama whispers, kisses the crown of Monika’s head. “Sweet baby. What’s got my sweet baby so sad?”
Monika isn’t sure if she can say. There were so, so many words, and she only knew some, and they were so big and far away and she was so little and dizzy and tired. She leans further into Mama’s hand, sniffling again, peeping ”mama” like a tiny baby bird, fluffy duckling, downy chick.
“I think someone’s a very sleepy little baby, isn’t she?” Mama murmurs, sweet and fond, and Monika gives a big big sigh again, nodding (and swaying when the tub spun a little bit in her vision), and then Mama is squeezing the nice lavender into the washcloth and sudsing Monika’s back.
“Yes, she is. Poor sleepy little green-bean,” Mama hums, “My sleepy little green-bean, yes you are...”
Mama keeps talking, slow and sweet and quiet, meaningless happiness as she sudses Monika from her shoulders to her toes. Monika’s head bobs, eyelids fluttering as she swishes her fingers dreamily through the mounds of apple-scented bubbles floating on the bath, focus gone but for the tickly pops against her knuckles and the warm drag of water on her fingertips. Mama cleans all of her, gentle and nice, and rinses down the little bit of her above the water before laying her back to wash her hair.
Monika drifts a bit, floating in warm, sweet-smelling water; Mama’s fingers scratching soothingly over Monika’s head as she whispers mindless mama-talk, feels like a hug just to listen. Monika is Mama’s sweet baby and so safe, and so warm, and maybe Mama’s heartbeat is rushing gently in her ears if she could just curl up and—
Mama sits Monika up very carefully, but she startles a little bit from her doze anyway, mewling in light confusion.
“Shhh, baby, I know. You love that part, huh, lil’ green-bean?”
“G’ee-b’een,” Monika mumbles, blinking owlishly at her Mama and her Mama’s sweet sunny smile. Mama giggles, rubbing her cheek with her thumb.
“Mmhmmm, you’re right! You’re Mama’s lil’ green-bean, aren’t you?”
“G’ee-b’een!” Babbles, reaching absentmindedly for Mama’s hand and Mama’s hair, or maybe cheek, or just maybe Mama and smiling so happily when Mama catches her hand, kisses her little palm.
...
Monika is Mama’s happy sleepy warm little green-bean, so she doesn’t stay in the tub very much longer. Mama stands her up and wraps her up in a very toasty towel with a soft little hood, so soft that she’s much too busy rubbing her nose against it to notice being layed down and put in pajamas and sockies, and then Monika is sitting up in Mama’s lap as Mama rubs the water out of her hair and she sits very nicely for that, thumb sneaking into her mouth as her eyes droop.
Mama is such a good mama. She says such nice and good things to baby Monnie, teaches her nice happy words, gives her nice happy hugs and cuddles and kisses. Mama is big and soft and warm and Monika loves her so much, and she toddles happily after her Mama into their bedroom and the big cozy bed where Mama gives her Turtle and puts a blankie around her shoulders.
Mama tells Monika that she is going to get something, and Monika kicks her feet a little bit because she heard, but she’s such a sleepy baby. Her head drops slowly, gently towards her chest as she sits and sways and cuddles Turtle and thinks about how happy and cozy she is, and Mama is whispering fondly when she comes back in the room, sounds far away to sleepy baby.
“Baby,” Mama whispers, “Mommy wants to read you a story.”
“‘omy... ?” Monika rouses only the smallest bit; casting her drowsy gaze around the room for a long moment before Mommy’s wonderful voice calls gently through the glowy in Mama’s hand.
[“Hi, baby girl,”]
“‘omyyy,” Monika garbles contentedly, stretching her hands out to the little picture of Mommy in the glowy as though she could reach her and pat her cheek. Mommy laughs softly, and Monika hears kissy noises and coos and burrows her cheek into Mama’s shoulder, because now Mama is holding her in the special safe baby way.
Monika loves Mommy. Mommy says soft safe baby things and that she’d love to come give Monika all the uppies she can hold in the morning, which sounds very good and wonderful, and that she’s going to read Monika a story tonight so she can have good cozy dreams, and Monika nod-nods lazily against Mama’s warm shoulder. Mama is holding her in the special safe baby way, and patting her bottom, and Turtle is safe in Monika’s lap and Mommy is reading a story about the moon, and sleepy, and Mama nudges the nipple of a bottle past Monika’s lips and she melts, sweetly, warmly, and she drifts.
She drifts until she dozes, warm milk and soft turtles and gentle pats and quiet voices, and she dozes until her dreams open up into a long, restful sleep.