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Day 10: Bathtime (fluff but T rated)
Baths , Cal thinks as he pours over his workbench, neck sore and eyes stinging from a long day squinting in bad light, are a complete waste of time.
He doesn't mean it in a cleanliness sort of way. No. He might have spent most of his life running from the Empire or surviving on Bracca, but Jaro Tapal had been fastidious about hygiene and it was one of the few lessons Cal still adhered to without question. He didn't mean it in a medicinal way either - he'd spent time in a bacta tank, duh. And did ponds and lakes and stuff count? Because they're fine too, in a pinch.
It was just… normal baths?
What were you supposed to even do in there? Get clean obviously, but that took seconds so after that are you meant to just… sit? Stare at the wall? At the water? At yourself?
Yikes. Big yikes.
Greez loves baths; always has. He even has a room above the cantina that is basically a mini bathhouse, with all sorts of scented concoctions, solar-heated walls and a tiled tub large enough to park a speeder in.
Cal has been in there a couple of times, but only to show off to a potential date, or tell Greez something that couldn't wait (especially as the Latero was now getting too deaf to hear him yell through the door). So, yeah, he knows people like them. He just doesn’t personally see the appeal.
He's thinking about all this, of course, because of Bode - because it turns out Greez isn't the only bathing aficionado in the Mantis crew. As soon as Bode had unpacked into Cal's (their!!) space beneath the cantina, he'd started an almost nightly routine of finishing work and then going off to soak in the bathhouse before dinner.
Not that Cal’s complaining , exactly. In fact, he secretly loves what that quick half-hour of soaking and silence does for his partner. No matter how grim the day, Bode always returns from his bath soft-limbed and warmed to the core, smelling deliciously of musk and herbs (and, more often than not, filled with a need to manhandle Cal until his body is in the same bliss-filled, liquid state).
As if on cue, Bode emerges from their (!!!) bedroom, on his way to the bathhouse. He’s in a vest and worn trousers, but has sleep clothes and a towel slung over one arm.
“Want some Sand Mynock 'n' Cheese for dinner?” he asks as he passes, “I've got some pasta that needs using up.”
“Sounds great.” Cal smiles up at him, and his tiredness must show on his face because Bode softens and steps up behind his chair, setting aside his bundle so he can wrap both arms over Cal’s shoulders.
“Long day?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to Cal’s temple.
“Yeah.” Cal sighs and tips back into the embrace, loving the way his head fits so perfectly into the crook of Bode’s shoulder. He waves an exasperated hand at his work; a commission from one of Greez’s regulars. “I don’t know what the hells this client did to their droid, but it is not coming back together how it should.”
Bode hums and kisses him again, on the neck this time. Cal’s breath catches, and he feels Bode’s smirk against his skin.
“Sounds like you could use some relaxation.”
“Damn right.” Arousal is already curling between his hipbones. Cal shifts in his seat, trying to get to Bode’s mouth.
Instead of indulging him, however, Bode stands up and gathers his things, chuckling low when Cal makes a thwarted, petulant sound. “I meant you need to actually relax , not get off. Why don’t you come join me in the bath?”
“In the bath ?” Cal’s nose wrinkles. He can’t help it.
“Come on, what do you have against it?”
“Just not my thing.”
“You’d rather sit here in this piece-of-crap chair until you throw your back out?”
“ I’m not the one who groans like an old man every time he stands up,” Cal tuts, fiddling with a repair tool with quick, idle fingers.
Bode visibly contemplates throwing something at Cal, and decides against it by a hair thin margin. Cal recognises the mulish set of his jaw and suppresses an affectionate sigh. He knows this look; Bode is not going to let this go.
“I mean…” Cal spins round in the chair to face Bode and leans back, letting his eyes roam very obviously over Bode’s body: taut arms, full pecs, and that all-over grabbable broadness that makes him think words like haunch and bite his lip to hold in a moan. “I could be persuaded …?”
“I already said not like that , you horndog. Just a bath. Together. You might even enjoy it.” Bode’s stance shifts slightly, awkwardly maybe, and - wait - are the tips of his ears getting pink? Cal, who has had a rapid crash course in Real Bode Signals in recent months (turns out, New Bode is just like the old one but with an adorable daughter and a fuckton more guilt), knows that this can mean only one thing.
“You’re serious,” he translates, unsure if he's exasperated or amused. “You really, truly want to sit and steep pointlessly, like two little herb bags in a mug of leaf-caf. With me.”
“Yes.” Bode meets his eyes for a single, expectant beat. When Cal doesn’t move, he rolls his eyes and snatches up his things. “I do. And you can do with that what you want. You know where to find me.”
The door hisses shut behind him.
Cal contemplates staying put, he really does, and on another day he might have been contrary (and hyperfixated enough on this damn repair job) to do so. He can’t, however, get that pink flush out of his mind, or the glimmer of something meaningful that he had glimpsed on Bode’s face before he left.
This is important to Bode, somehow.
And does Cal really need to understand any more than that?
The bathhouse is all steam when he arrives; billowing clouds that are the exact same, heady scent that Bode’s skin carries when he comes back most evenings. Cal steps inside, toeing off his sandals and placing bare feet onto warm, slick tile. For a moment all he can hear is the soft exhale of steam and, sporadically, little drips as condensation beads and falls overhead.
Then there’s the unmistakable sluice of a body through water. “Cal?”
Bode sits with his back to the edge of the pool, chest deep, his body blurred in water tinted a deep mineral jade. His hair is loose and long, forming tiny curls around his ears and throat in the moist air.
Cal wants to lick a stripe up that neck, and that’s just for starters.
“Thought I’d come see what the fuss is about.” Cal tries for levity. It falls a little flat. He shuffles over to the edge of the pool, still in his underwear and not sure how to proceed. Bode glides over to him, water rippling over and off his browned, sculpted shoulders. Cal’s mouth goes dry and (sue him) his cock twitches in interest.
“Well, since you’re here.” Bode props himself on the edge of the bath with a brawny arm. The water makes the hair on those arms flow in straight, dark rivulets. Another thing Cal would like to taste. “You gonna come in?”
“You sure?” Cal nibbles his lower lip and shifts. From Bode’s angle, there’s no way he’s missed what’s happening in Cal’s underwear right now. “What if you come out here instead and let me get my mouth on your - aaaah!”
With a flash of callused hands, Bode grabs Cal by the back of the knees and hauls him into the water. Cal misses the side, and his clothes land somewhere dry, thanks to twin shoves of the Force, delivered by Bode at the exact same time, to protect him and his clothes from harm. It would be quite sweet, as a gesture, if it hadn’t accompanied dunking him in water. Cal comes up spluttering like a drowned tooka.
“BLEH!” He thrashes to the surface, spitting out water and gasping at the sudden flush of hot water all over his body. “BODE!”
“Oh stop fussin’. C’mere.” Strong arms wrap around his middle, more a hug than a vice, but only just. Cal floats backwards until his back is pressed to Bode’s rather delectable chest. He finds himself settled in Bode’s lap, legs across Bode’s thighs like a child on their mother’s knee.
It would be ridiculous, should be ridiculous, if it weren’t so kriffing soothing.
Bode hears Cal’s half-voluntary exhale of contentment as the Jedi’s senses adjust to the warmth of the water and the sensation of being held. He runs his hands up Cal’s arms, smoothing water over his biceps, collarbones and chest in gentle strokes. Cal’s smart retort dies on his lips as Bode shifts his grip and starts to massage Cal’s shoulders and up to the nape of his neck, then into his hair, combing it back with wet fingers until it too, is warm and wet and deliciously scented.
“Bode…” Cal, because he’s Cal, is still trying to fidget. “Bode! Lemme go. Don’t I need to… um, wash or something? Or you can tell me whatever else people are meant to do in a bath this big because really how is it even necessary and how many credits does Greez even pay for water and heating like this because da-”
“Sssssh.” Bode draws him close, so that his lips brush the shell of Cal’s ear. One arm stays around Cal’s waist - not moving, just holding him steady. The other scoops more water up and runs it through Cal’s hair again, from hairline to nape. Nails scrape Cal’s scalp, just lightly, enough to make him shiver in pleasure, eyelashes fluttering low. “Just relax, Scrapper. Enjoy it.”
“But-”
“No buts. No thoughts. Nothing. Just… be here. With me.” Bode ends his latest stroke by sliding his hand down to Cal’s chin, guiding their mouths together for a gentle kiss that tastes of softness and steam. Cal can’t help the whimper that escapes him; disarmed by the tenderness of the touch. Bode hums back, honeyed and calming, and Cal can almost feel his heart slow at the sound.
He kisses back and, at last, lets words and thoughts go for a while.
Later, when they are both thoroughly kissed and floating languidly in the warmth and closeness of it all, Bode draws Cal’s head back to the crook of his shoulder, tips his head so his lips are in Cal’s hair, and murmurs, barely audible over the shushing steam and dripping water: “You’re a pain in the ass, Cal Kestis. But I love you with my whole sorry, rotten heart.”
Cal hides his smile in the curve of Bode’s neck, and can't resist snuggling closer. Bode's arm tightens minutely across his back; knowing that Cal speaks with his body, and this gesture of simple trust is as good as any declaration.
Baths , Cal thinks as he slips into a contented doze, are quite nice. Actually.