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The shower is still running.
Caitlyn looks at the clock, but she doesn't remember what time she helped Vi into the bathroom, so she can only hazard a guess at how long it's been.
Half an hour, maybe?
Caitlyn's certainly taken longer, especially after a particularly rough day, but Vi has never taken more than a handful of minutes.
With mild concern pressing against her chest, Caitlyn pushes herself to her feet, pads across the bedroom, and raps her knuckles lightly against the bathroom door.
"Vi?" she calls.
There's no response.
She knocks again, a little louder. "Vi?"
She presses her ear to the door, but all she can hear is the spray of water against the tile. She knocks one more time and then calls, "I'm coming in."
The door is, as always, unlocked.
Steam billows out as Caitlyn pushes the door open, and she blinks the warmth from her eyes. The room is hazy with humidity, the mirror and glass shower door are fogged up, the cool tile damp beneath her bare feet.
Vi's clothes are piled in a messy heap next to the vanity, but her earrings aren't in their usual spot beside the sink. Caitlyn frowns at the empty spot on the counter; Vi's gotten much better about taking them out ever since one was ripped out in a fight and subsequently caused a rather nasty infection.
Caitlyn crosses the bathroom to the shower stall and knocks lightly on the clouded glass. When there's still no response, she slides the shower door open.
Vi's back is to her. She's leaning heavily against the wall, head tipped forward against the tiles. As Caitlyn opens the stall door, she raises her head slowly and looks over her shoulder.
"Cait?" She sounds confused, like she just woke up from a daze and isn't quite sure what's going on.
But Caitlyn is distracted by the bruises, dark and ugly, painted across Vi's entire back. The splotches of purple and red are edged with green and yellow and a few of them are interrupted by scratches crusted with dried blood. Even her tattoos seem muted against the discolored splotches.
"Oh, Vi," Caitlyn breathes. "Why didn't you say anything?"
Vi raises one shoulder in a shrug and then immediately winces. "Didn't realize it was this bad."
"Okay," Caitlyn says, because Vi seldom lies about her (serious) injuries anymore. "Okay. Give me just a minute."
She steps away from the glass door and begins to shed her clothes, dropping them into a messy pile on the floor beside Vi's. The cool tile is damp with condensation, but it doesn't matter. Vi is more important.
Even in the humid warmth, Caitlyn's bare skin breaks out in goosebumps. Quickly, she steps into the steaming shower and closes the stall door.
Vi is still exactly where she was a minute ago and, as Caitlyn re-enters the shower, she slowly raises her head again. When she looks Caitlyn up and down, there's still the regular admiration that even now makes Caitlyn feel over-warm, but it's muted and tired.
Caitlyn steps closer and, as Vi turns away from the wall to face her, brushes dripping pink hair back out of her partner's face. "What do you need, darling?"
Vi tips her head forward to rest her forehead against Caitlyn's collarbone. "I can't reach my back."
That's not surprising. The bruising extends up Vi's shoulders, and it's probably painful for her to lift her arms.
"Okay. Give me just a moment," Caitlyn murmurs, gently leaning her partner back against the tile wall.
She steps away only long enough to grab the bottle of body wash and the sponge that Vi seems to have dropped earlier. As she moves back to Vi, she pours a generous dollop of body wash onto the sponge and works it into a lather.
Vi's eyes have drifted shut, so Caitlyn murmurs, "I'm going to touch you."
Vi nods without opening her eyes and tilts forward to lean against her again. Caitlyn uses her spare hand to brush the wet hair up off of Vi's nape and gently scrubs away the dried sweat and blood.
Careful not to use too much pressure, she slowly works her way down Vi's back. The largest scrape is crusted with dried blood and, as she scrubs the little brown flakes away, Vi shivers beneath her hands.
Caitlyn pauses. "Vi? Are you alright?"
"'M good," Vi murmurs. "Just stings a little."
"Sorry," Caitlyn whispers back. "I'm almost done."
Once she's finished with Vi's back, Caitlyn sets the sponge aside and steps back to meet her partner's eyes.
"Did you get your legs?"
Vi shakes her head once. "Hurts to bend over. 'Sides, I figured the soap would just kinda... run down."
"Vi," Caitlyn scolds affectionately. "That is not how that works."
Vi makes a little motion with her shoulder that might be an attempt at a shrug. "It's kind of how it works."
Caitlyn snorts, and Vi shoots her a tired little smile.
She Iathers the sponge again and kneels, then begins gently working her way down Vi's legs. Vi steadies herself with one hand on the wall as Caitlyn lifts each of her partner's legs so she can wash her feet. Before she sets the second foot back on the floor, Caitlyn presses a tender kiss to Vi's knee.
There's the barest hint of sound above her, almost inaudible above the spray of water. Caitlyn looks up to see Vi looking down at her, something soft and devasted in her eyes. She looks like she might cry.
Caitlyn gently puts Vi's foot back on the floor and stands up. As soon as she's within reach, Vi curls her hand around the back of Caitlyn's neck and pulls her forward to kiss her. There's something urgent in the way she presses her lips to Caitlyn's, like she's trying to convince her not to leave.
In an unspoken reassurance, Caitlyn's hands fall to the soft curve of Vi's hips, pulling her closer until they are pressed against each other, bare skin on bare skin.
When she runs out of air, Caitlyn pulls back ever so slightly, resting their foreheads together. "Let me help you with your hair."
Vi makes a soft noise, but it's not a protest. "You don't have to."
"I want to," Caitlyn whispers against her lips. "I love you. I want to take care of you."
Vi makes a noise like she's taken a blow to the chest, and it makes Caitlyn ache to think that even after all this time, Vi still doesn't seem to expect kindness. Still doesn't seem to think she deserves to be cared for.
She waits and, after a long moment, Vi nods very slightly against her forehead.
Caitlyn carefully removes Vi's earrings and leans out of the shower stall to set them on the floor beside the bathmat. Then she grabs her own bottles of shampoo and conditioner and moves back to her partner. Gently, she guides Vi to turn around, and Vi braces one arm against the wall to keep herself upright.
"Close your eyes," Caitlyn tells her softly, squeezing some shampoo into her palm and working it into a lather. Gently, she combs her fingers through her partner's hair and Vi makes a contented little noise as Caitlyn massages the shampoo into her scalp.
With a small smile, Caitlyn scratches lightly with her nails and Vi practically melts. Caitlyn takes a half-step forward, just in case Vi needs the support - she's exhausted and still clearly in some amount of pain, and her right leg trembles like her knee is going to give out.
"Alright?" Caitlyn murmurs.
After a moment, Vi nods and shifts, locking her knees straight. "'M okay. Tired."
"I'm sure." Caitlyn had spent the raid up in a sniper's nest, well out of the fight. Vi had been right in the thick of it and seems to have taken quite the beating. Of course she's crashing now, in the safety of their home.
The shampoo rinses out quickly, and Caitlyn follows it with a bit of conditioner, massaging it in until Vi's hair is soft and silky and slipping through her fingers. While she lets it sit, Caitlyn leans over and presses a kiss into the top of Vi's shoulder right where the bone juts up beneath the soft skin.
When she lifts her head, her gaze meets Vi's as her partner looks over her shoulder. Her grey eyes are soft and red-rimmed, her lashes wet and clumped together. Caitlyn's chest feels molten as she stretches a little farther so she can press another kiss to her partner's cheek, and Vi leans into her touch.
"Tilt your head back," Caitlyn murmurs, because anything louder seems almost sacrilegious in this quiet intimacy, where the only sounds are the spray of water and two steady breaths.
As Vi tilts her head up, Caitlyn takes the showerhead down with one hand and lays the other over Vi's forehead, shielding her eyes as she rinses her hair. It's something she remembers her parents doing for her when she was a child, something that meant safety and care and all of the other things that made her feel cherished.
She reaches past Vi to put the showerhead back up and takes the opportunity to lean over her partner's shoulder and press a kiss to her jaw, just below her earlobe.
Vi huffs a soft laugh. "You're spoiling me, Cupcake."
Caitlyn smiles, knowing Vi can feel it against her jaw. "Maybe I'm just indulging myself."
Vi laughs again. "Oh, well then. Who am I to stop you?"
They linger under the hot water for another minute, because Caitlyn is certain it's helping Vi's aching muscles. To be honest, it's helping her own aching muscles. But after a minute, she reaches over to turn the water off.
"Don't fall," she warns Vi, then steps to the stall door to grab two towels. She pats her hair to dry it some and wraps her towel around herself before turning back to Vi with the other.
When Vi reaches out to take it, Caitlyn bats her hand away. "Nope, I'm doing it."
Vi huffs, but it's more amusement than anything else, so Caitlyn tosses the towel over her head and begins to dry the pink hair in a way that will probably result in it sticking up. Again, Vi melts under her hands.
Once her partner's hair is just damp instead of dripping, Caitlyn dries the rest of her, careful to keep too much pressure or texture from bothering Vi's bruises. When she's done, she wraps the towel around Vi's waist and tucks it into itself.
"I don't want it to irritate your back," she says, even though she knows that Vi would've accepted it without an explanation.
Vi nods her understanding, eyes soft and affectionate as she holds Caitlyn's gaze. "Thank you," she says quietly. "For all of this."
"Oh, I'm not done. Go lie down, I'm going to get something for those bruises."
Vi shakes her head fondly, but doesn't protest. As she limps out of the bathroom, Caitlyn digs through the cabinet in search of the balm her father had wordlessly given her after seeing bruises along Vi's neck and collarbone after a particularly close-up fight.
Finally, she finds it. The jar is getting close to empty; she'll have to ask her father for more soon. But there's enough for now, so she re-secures her towel and takes the jar out to the bedroom. She'll clean up the bathroom later.
Vi is sitting on the edge of the bed, because it seems she absolutely cannot help but argue with authority. The day Vi follows an order without question will probably the first day of the apocalypse, or something equally dramatic.
Caitlyn pokes Vi's shoulder when she reaches her and scolds, "I told you to lie down."
Vi rolls her eyes, her expression playful and fond. "Yes, ma'am."
Caitlyn snorts. She's fairly certain that Vi has never used 'ma'am' except in sarcasm.
"Down," she orders, and Vi finally goes, easing herself onto the mattress and bunching a pillow under her for support.
Caitlyn settles beside her, pressing their hips together and relishing in the warm pressure of the touch. It's been years, and she's not sure she'll ever not feel a thrill when they make contact.
The balm is cool on her fingers as she scoops it out of the jar, and the sharp smell of mint stings her nose in a pleasant way. The menthol, her father had explained, soothes the pain and accelerates the healing process. It just has the added bonus of smelling good.
"It's going to be cold," she warns, and Vi hums in reply.
There's a fine balance between too much pressure and not enough. Vi is far from breakable, but she also tends to hide her pain, even from Caitlyn sometimes. As she massages the balm into Vi's skin, she keeps a subtle eye on what she can see of her partner's face, watching for even the smallest shift in expression.
But Vi looks completely relaxed, her eyes closed and her breathing even. At one point, as Caitlyn's fingers brush lightly over her sides and the subtle ridges of her ribcage, Vi shivers under the touch, but there's no pain in the involuntary movement.
Caitlyn rubs the balm into Vi's back until it no longer feels cold and wet on her hands, until the moisture of it is only a fine sheen on the watercolor of bruises. She wipes the excess from her palms on a towel and says, "Are you still awake?"
"No," Vi mumbles back.
Caitlyn huffs a laugh and then, bracing her hand on the mattress, leans over to kiss the back of Vi's neck. Vi gives a contented hum, so Caitlyn kisses the spot again before pushing herself back upright.
"Leaving?" Vi murmurs, still not moving or opening her eyes.
"Not yet," Caitlyn whispers, "I'll stay until you fall asleep."
"Not tired."
Caitlyn snorts. "You just told me you weren't even awake."
Vi shifts, somehow sinking even deeper into the mattress. "'M a good liar."
Caitlyn laughs again as she gently begins to trace the tattoos that decorate her partner's skin, trailing her fingertips over familiar gears and whorls of smoke. "Maybe not that good of a liar."
Vi hums again. "Not to you."
There's a sweet ache in Caitlyn's heart; if she could live in this moment forever, she would. Both of them literally and metaphorically laid bare, and with the intimate knowledge of each other's body and soul alike.
She gently combs her fingers through still-damp hair, gliding her thumb over the curve of Vi's ear. Impossibly, Vi relaxes further, and Caitlyn would be certain that she had finally drifted off, except that Vi cracks her eyes open and whispers, "I love you."
The ache deepens. With all the tenderness she has, Caitlyn lays her hand on her partner's cheek, brushing her thumb over the tattoo there, and whispers back, "I love you, too."