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"I cannot believe you're letting me do this."
Mick couldn’t really believe it either. He was sitting in a hard, straight-backed chair, leaning very far back, with his head in the dingy little kitchenette sink. Tavish was leaning over him, running the water to wash his hair.
Tavish had called it a "trust exercise." Mick was not keen on "trust exercises."
It wasn't all bad, though. Mick hissed when the water came out too cold, but Tavish was quick to adjust it. Having anyone else's hands so close to his exposed throat and the top of his spinal column would paralyze him with anxiety, but he knew that Tavish wouldn't hurt him. He was also offered a decent view down the front of Tavish's shirt, which he did not mind.
"See, love, it's not so bad." Tavish had leaned in closer and his warm breath ghosted over Mick’s skin. Mick shivered a little bit as a stray drop of water trailed down the back of his neck, under his shirt.
Mick closed his eyes and let himself lean back into Tavish's touch - his strong fingers gently massaging Mick’s scalp, untangling all the knots in his hair, smoothing his ragged bangs back away from his face. It was somehow more intimate than anything else they'd ever done together. As Tavish ran his fingers through Mick’s hair to wash all the soap out, Mick thought that he wouldn’t rather be anywhere else. Even this, sitting in the world's most uncomfortable chair with cold water dripping down his shirt, became pleasant, because he got to go through it with Tavish.
"Alright, Mickey, you can open your eyes now. I'm done."
Mick didn't shift, still trying to hold on to the feeling he had had just a moment before when Tavish's hands were in his hair.
"Unless you want me give you a shave, too-"
Mick sat up straight, grabbing Tavish's wrist and holding it still. "Don't even think about it." He trusted him, but with a razor against his throat? He'd ruin his look, carefully cultivated for maximum rugged ness.
Tavish smiled broadly and easily removed each of Mick’s fingers from his wrist with his free hand. As he helped him up, Mick noticed that a decent amount of water had spilled across the front of Tavish's shirt. Mick really didn't mind that.
"You just gonna stand here staring at me or do you want me to dry you off?"
Mick shrugged. "Ah, don't bother. I'll just go sit in the sun like I always do."
" Always do? You wash your hair?" Tavish jogged along with Mick to the door to one of the yards, the one with the rusty latch that always got stuck. "Could've fooled me."
Rolling his eyes, Mick punched him lightly on the arm, which only made his smile widen. He felt it again, that surge of trust, that kind of love, so strongly that he almost flung himself into Tavish's arms to kiss him. Seeing the fuzzy figures of his coworkers on the horizon, he thought better of it, but he still let Tavish reach down and take his hand.
He squeezed it lightly.
Trust me.