Work Text:
[You know, I noticed something a while ago.]
“Oh? And what’s that?”
[Other than the one near the boss’s office, there’s no bathrooms anywhere in the game.]
The Narrator sighed.
“I mean, yes, but why would it be needed? Neither one of us have any need for one, Stanley.”
[I know, I know. I just thought you’d include one in the apartment, really. Add to the believability a bit?]
“Stanley. Be straight with me for a moment.”
Stanley snorted. [Can’t. I’m bi.]
“I don’t mean– you are incorrigible sometimes, you know that?”
Stanley rested his face on his hands and blinked, as if to go [who? Little ol’ me?]
The Narrator just rolled his eyes.
“I mean be honest with me. Why are you suddenly asking me about this? Why bathrooms, of all things?”
Stanley pointed at himself, trying to start a sentence, before hesitating and going a little red. The Narrator just raised an eyebrow, confused but undeniably curious. Stanley let out a small cough.
A small grabbing motion.
His closed fist above his head, then opened, fingers flayed out.
Two fists brought together, thumbs peeking out.
His index finger, pointing at the Narrator.
The Narrator froze for a moment. Then he went pink. And then red. And then he began spluttering.
“I– You– With me?? Are you–”
Stanley would’ve laughed at his reaction, were it not for his own face burning at about the same temperature as a summer’s day on Venus. Yes, he knew how embarrassing, how absurd it sounded. He was very well aware, thank you.
“A bath??”
Oh my God. Yes. He knew. The Narrator was making this situation a good twelve times more awful than it needed to be. He shoved his face into his hands.
The Narrator spent a couple more minutes mumbling to himself, red in the face and pacing, before noticing Stanley’s reaction.
“Erm. Stanley? I didn’t upset you, did I? If I did, I’m very sorry…”
Stanley just curled in on himself. God, he shouldn’t have brought it up. He was genuinely about to die from embarrassment.
A hand on his shoulder caught his attention. He looked up.
“Stanley? Did you hear me, just then? Did I upset you? Are you okay?”
[Sorry.]
“What for?”
[I shouldn’t have suggested it. I made you uncomfortable. Please, just forget I said anything.]
“Stanley. Dearest. You just caught me off guard, is all. You didn’t make me uncomfortable, heavens no! And I, erm…”
The Narrator trailed off.
“I could always add a bathroom to the apartment, if you really want?”
Stanley scanned the Narrator’s expression for any sign of sarcasm, or mockery. Instead, he was met with minutely worried eyes, a small half-smile, and a pale blotch of pink still just about present. He was being sincere.
Stanley cleared his throat and, still red in the face and unable to meet his eyes, nodded.
“Right. It’ll be there next reset, then.”
Grateful for the Narrator’s lack of teasing, Stanley made his way through the story properly, and he swore the Narrator’s smile was wider than usual as he spoke the last words of the ending.
*
When he sat up at his desk again, Stanley just looked at the clock for a little while. He was aware of the Narrator’s voice calling him, but just blinked as he listened to the ticking. Eventually, he was aware of another person at the door to his office.
“Stanley?”
His eyes flickered over to the Narrator.
“Come on, now. I’ve put the new feature in, don’t you want to see it?”
Stanley took in a sharp breath.
“Darling? What’s the matter?”
[I feel like I’ve made you do something you don’t want to do. The last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable like that.]
The Narrator shook his head fondly, sighing.
“Stanley. Do you think I would’ve actually agreed to add it if the idea made me uncomfortable? Now, by no means would I force you to go there if you’ve genuinely changed your mind, but you certainly haven’t forced my hand or anything. It's just a bath, dear."
[You honestly don’t mind?]
“I honestly don’t mind. In fact, I welcome it! Obviously, we don’t have to, ahem, do anything…”
The Narrator trailed off, a little red.
[No. Not my thing.] Stanley signed, smiling slightly.
The Narrator chuckled. “Not my thing either, dear.”
*
[The fancy apartment again? How kind of you.] Stanley signed as the two of them stepped inside.
“Well, I couldn’t exactly fit a whole new room in the other one. This was the natural choice.”
Unlike the last time they had come here together, the candles were present, though this time they went in a different direction. They led to a door next to the front entrance - one Stanley had seen before, but had always been locked. This time, however, it opened with ease upon pushing it lightly. Stanley gasped at the sight before him.
The candles let off a soft, warm light. In the middle of the back wall, a large bathtub was filled with water. It lacked any bubbles, but there were a few bubble bath mixes resting atop the bath wall, some scented, some not. A bath mat, light teal and white, lay just in front of the bath.
“I, ah, wasn’t sure if you’d want any specific bubbles or scents or anything, so I left some out for you…”
Stanley kissed the Narrator’s cheek, then went to pour an unscented bubble mix into the bath. Warmth, humidity, and an overpowering smell - as nice as it may be - would probably be too much for him, and the whole point of this was to relax. As the bubbles formed, he beckoned the Narrator.
“You’re sure you want me to join you?”
Stanley nodded fervently, afterwards signing a hasty [only if you want].
The Narrator simply smiled.
After undressing, the two of them got into the bath. It was big enough to comfortably fit them both, and perfectly warm too. Stanley shifted so that his back was against the Narrator’s chest and sighed contentedly.
[Lovely.]
The Narrator hummed. “What is, Stanley, dear?”
[This. You. All of it.]
In response, the Narrator kissed Stanley’s shoulder.
“You’re rather lovely yourself.”
After some few minutes of basking in the warm water, the Narrator tapped Stanley’s arm with one of his lower hands, a washcloth in one of his upper ones.
“Shall I wash your back for you?”
Stanley nodded once, leaning forward slightly to make it easier. After dipping the cloth into the water, the Narrator pressed circles into his back gently, feather-light. Stanley shivered at the sensation of excess water running off the cloth and down his back. When the Narrator was done, he signed a [thank you].
“Not a problem, dear.”
Taking the washcloth from him, Stanley held up a finger and circled it, signalling that the Narrator should turn around. It was only fair that he reciprocated, after all. The Narrator did as asked, tapping his fingers together as Stanley dragged the cloth softly across his back.
“Stanley?” The Narrator’s voice was low, full of warmth.
Stanley hummed in acknowledgement.
“I love you.”
Stanley pressed a kiss to the Narrator’s back, between where a human’s shoulder blades would be. He wasn’t too sure about the Narrator’s internal anatomy, but he clearly wasn’t human if the extra arms were anything to go by. In any case, he loved him too.
After wringing out the washcloth and putting it aside, Stanley shuffled away from the Narrator before dunking his own head underwater. He giggled at the Narrator’s expression when he came back up. He pointed at the bottles on the side, then made scrubbing motions near his scalp. The Narrator’s eyes flashed with recognition.
“Oh! You want the shampoo? Of course. Here you go.”
Stanley applied entirely too much shampoo, earning a fond “tsk” from the other man, before massaging it into his scalp. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had the chance to wash his hair. What an odd thing to miss, he realised, though he supposed it really was the little things.
“Stanley, if you aren’t careful you’ll get it in your eyes.”
Stanley just waved his hand dismissively in response.
He dunked his head in the water again, working the shampoo suds out with his fingers. His hair dripped onto his face when he came back up for air, and he was aware of the Narrator’s eyes on him. He titled his head.
“You’ve got a bit left in your hair. Come, I’ll sort it.”
Shuffling back over, Stanley closed his eyes as the Narrator tipped his chin up, cupped two of his hands and poured water over his head a couple of times, rinsing the excess shampoo off. He then kissed his temple.
“There you go. All lovely and clean.”
Stanley laid back against the Narrator’s chest once again, this time soliciting a contented sigh from the other being. His lower arms wrapped around Stanley, just above his waist. Simultaneously, his upper arms crossed over Stanley’s chest, resting his hands on the man’s shoulders. He rested his head in the crook of Stanley’s neck, who reciprocated by holding two of the Narrator’s arms. The two stayed pressed together, basking in the light, warmth and the other’s presence, until the water grew lukewarm and a few of the smaller candles began to flicker.
As Stanley finally moved to get the towels, he heard the Narrator chuckle an “oh dear.”
[What?]
“Your hands. I think we might’ve stayed in too long, hm?”
He looked at his palms. Ah. Yep. They’d gone all prune-y. Eugh. He began to pat them dry on one towel, passing the other to the Narrator, who took it gladly.
“Nice as that was, Stanley, I think we should get dry and warm, yes? We spent quite a while in there, and I’m not particularly willing to find out if either of us are capable of catching a chill.”
Stanley nodded in agreement, rubbing at his hair before wrapping the towel around his body, shivering slightly in the cooling air.
Walking out of the bathroom, Stanley began to make his way towards the bedroom. He stopped upon noticing a couple of folded clothes on the foot of the bed.
“I supposed that you might want to go to bed after, and I’ve heard it’s best not to sleep in your daytime clothes.”
Stanley quickly got changed, astounded at how comfortable the clothes were. It was just a plain t-shirt and pyjama bottoms, after all. He turned back to the Narrator, who had donned some bottoms along with a thin dressing gown, allowing him free movement of his arms. Stanley then made a finger-guns gesture, clicking his tongue.
The Narrator chuckled.
“Very dashing, Stanley. Like James Bond on a sleepover.”
Stanley laughed.
Hesitancy of the last time forgotten, Stanley pulled back the covers of the bed, waited for the Narrator to get in and comfortable, and immediately snuggled into the other being. He was warm. A familiar hand rested in his semi-dry hair, and Stanley wrapped his own arms around the Narrator. He shuffled up to be at eye-level with him, pressed a short kiss to his mouth, then made himself comfortable again and revelled in the Narrator’s warmth.
“Sleep well, darling. Love you.”
Lazily, Stanley signed back,
[You too, love.]