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“I think we gotta shower, darlin’.”
You tense at the idea of a shower. It’s not that you don’t want to shower; you’re sticky with blood and bits of flesh from you and Ronin’s latest date night in Purgatory. The idea of being rid of the dark clotted guts in your hair sounds incredible.
You just wish there was an alternative that wasn’t showering.
He notices you freeze. He notices everything. He’s good at playing it off, but he’s not letting you off this time.
“C’mon, darlin,” Ronin drags you into the bathroom. “You’ll feel better when the hot water hits ya.” He begins to shed his blood stained hoodie followed by a shirt that’s even sticker with blood. You think for half a second how painful laundry will be later before you’re interrupted by Ronin grabbing at your own hoodie.
“Arms up,” he grins at you. A laugh chokes out of you as you do what he says. With minimal struggle, Ronin pulls your hoodie off of you. You try to focus on how his muscles flex (how is the Devil built like this? and how’d you get so lucky?) and not on how you’re dreading taking off the rest of your clothes.
“Ya want help? Or should I look away?” You snap out of your daze briefly.
“Look away. Please.” You manage to mumble out. You can feel your mind begin to cloud again. Ronin hums and turns around, busying himself with taking off the rest of his clothes. With a shaky breath, you start to shuck off your own clothes. Distantly, you can make out Ronin humming the song he’s had on loop for the past week. You try to focus on that; it helps a little bit.
He stays turned around until you work up the nerve to say you’ve finished. You’re struggling to make eye contact with him. Ronin’s humming has turned into quiet singing as he turns on the shower and helps you in. He’s rubbing circles into your hands with his own. You hate how he knows; you’re so glad he understands because you don’t think you could ever voice this properly.
You hate that he was right about the hot water being calming.
The two of you just stay in water. Ronin calmly runs his hands through your hair and over your skin. His singing pauses.
“You know I love ya, right baby?” He asks you softly. Too softly. You almost trick yourself into imagining that you’re hearing it; you shove your face into his chest, nodding. The Devil throws his head back and laughs. He pulls you closer to him; the two of you let the water run red than pink than clear. A laugh bubbles out of your own throat.
You make eye contact with the Devil for the first time since you got home. He’s smirking at you and his eyes scream that he gets it.
“Gorgeous.” He whispers.
“Don’t tease me right now, Ronin.” Your body shakes. You’re not sure if it's the laughter or sobs racking through your body causing it. It might be both. You’ll never be able to tell, any tears running down your face mix with the water streaming over your body.
He clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Would never tease over this. Love ya,” the Devil reassures. “Especially your grotesqueness.”
Giggles bubble up wetly as he peppers kisses over your face and down your neck. He presses a final kiss to your lips (which you happily return) before pulling away. “Feelin’ better?” Ronin asks.
“...yeah.” You nod. Some of the brain fog has cleared. It’s not all gone. You’re not sure if it’ll ever be fully gone.
But you’re certain it’s better with Ronin.