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To Zani, it had been a simple request.
I know I've already showered, but I want to do something if you don't mind, said in the most gentlest of tones as she was being undressed. Then, let me wash your hair, Miss Zani, a plea that came from someone who so easily melts her unbroken composure, from someone who'd she given her heart to with all its strings attached; and who is Zani to refuse?
Which is how she's here, now. Here, in her cozy, marble-tiled bathroom normally used for one. Here, under the lightly drizzling showerhead with the temperature set in between a medium heat and a high. Here, with a long day's work worth of grime and grit all over her body, sweat being washed away, the steam opening up her pores while she relaxes under the heat.
For the first time in her life, there's someone else in her bathroom. For the first time in her life, the shower chair she's left lingering in the corner of her shower space is finally being used for its intended purpose.
For the first time in her life, the hands rummaging shampoo through her hair are not of her own.
"Am I massaging your head too hard?" Phoebe asks, fingers pressed gently through her mess of tangled, silver hair. She's careful with her movements, trying not to wet her own sleeves though they're already rolled up to her shoulders.
Still, Zani does not answer immediately, and it has Phoebe asking once more.
"Miss Zani?" A tap against the neck, "It's not too much, is it?"
Zani blinks. Once, twice, before the question finally gets through her head.
"You're not doing it too hard, nor is it too much." It's not that Zani wants to ignore her, really. Was it weird that a hair massage could make someone become so pliant that their ability to process words just… almost disappears? Because that's what Zani feels is happening, oddly enough, "It's good like this. If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought I was in one of Ragunna's top hairdressing parlours."
It's good to be like this, to have Phoebe with her; to have Phoebe behind her, softly giggling at her genuine remark. It's good when Phoebe unscrews the bottle of shampoo left near her feet to squeeze another dollop onto her hair, and it's good when Phoebe continues to massage into her hair while iridescent, brittle bubbles start to form under her gentle touch.
Zani thinks it's always good to be with her, always good to return to her apartment only to find her there on her scarlet red couch. Biding her time with a codex on her lap, waiting patiently for her to come home.
She used to think that it was good to have such a soft, unoccupied sofa in her living room to greet her face flat every time she returned home from another round of overtime. Now, she finds that it's even better to have someone waiting for her on that couch. Someone anticipating her return—someone she loves so dear, someone who loves her too in return—just… being there, to exclaim a hearty welcome back, Miss Zani! at her arrival.
It's been much brighter lately, with her around. The thought has her sighing in bliss, as Phoebe grabs the showerhead into her hands.
As Phoebe begins to rinse the bubbling suds right off her head, warm water trailing halfway onto her forearms, she asks, "What are you thinking about, Miss Zani?"
"You." Zani doesn't lie, "How nice it is to have you here with me." That's not a lie, either, "Maybe also how much more electricity we'd save if we just showered together all the time instead."
…Well, she hadn't been thinking about that now, so that could perhaps be classified as a lie—but she does think about it, sometimes. Sometimes, as she intertwines their fingers together to sleep after their intimate moments in bed—and she did say a maybe at the beginning, so maybe she could instead argue for a half-lie, maybe.
Not that Phoebe has to know that, for now.
For now, even though Zani isn't turning around by the neck to see the look on her face, she knows well enough that redness has started to creep into her cheeks. She'd rather not risk splashing water onto Phoebe's direction, really.
Zani can picture it perfectly already enough, anyways: the pretty shade of pink that lies below her bashful expression. Scrunched eyebrows, pursed lips—it's easy to reminisce, easy to imagine, considering how she has far too much experience in that regard.
"You don't wish to shower with me, dolcezza?" She can hear Phoebe squeak from behind her, now. She's easy to tease too, even now. How cute. "Too shy to say you want to have your hands all over me, are you?"
Phoebe huffs, trying to regain her composure, "I—I did not say that!"
"It feels like you did, though." Well, not really. But she can pretend it does, for the sake of this; teasing her like it's her favorite pasttime—it is, but she can't be telling Phoebe that it is. "Your silence does, at least."
"That's because I didn't expect Miss Zani to say that."
Zani hums, "What exactly do you mean by that?"
Another huff, "You know what I mean by that, Miss Zani."
"Pray tell, Miss Priestess," Zani does know what she means, but it doesn't hurt to coax it out of her, does it? "I have my suspicions, of course, but I would still like to know for confirmation. Can't be having us on different pages, can we?"
Seeing that she refuses to move from this point, Phoebe finally relents.
"You know…" she says, quiet, "That Miss Zani wants to shower with me…"
"It shouldn't be that surprising, though?" The mischief is oh, so obvious in Zani's tone. She turns her head this time, slowly, because she wants to see the look on Phoebe's face as she says, "You speak as if I haven't seen everything that lies beneath that Acolyte outfit of yours—"
Another squeak, another wave of red over her pretty face. Phoebe almost drops the showerhead too, this time, but she doesn't, thankfully, because then it would have just flung straight onto Zani's head—and Zani would really, really rather not get a mark shaped in its handle stamped across her forehead.
Then comes Phoebe's exclamation, "Miss Zani…!"
"I'm not planning to play around with you if we shower together, if that's your concern. I'm not even planning to play around with you right now." Well, not now. Not physically. At least. "Wouldn't want to accidentally get my hair dirty and undo your hard work just yet, tesoro."
Phoebe narrows her eyes at her, still red, "Just yet?"
"Just yet." Zani repeats just as easily, "Not in here, at least. Don't know how much I can promise when we get in bed, though."
She's satisified to see Phoebe so red, now. That's a part of her doing, too, and it's definitely not just a byproduct from all the steam trapped within the confines of her bathroom.
So, she turns her head around once more. Looks straight onto the wall, as Phoebe grumbles something that toes the line of you're such a tease as if it's a complaint. Zani knows that it isn't, but it's cute that she's acting as if it is one.
The showerhead is turned off. Phoebe reaches for the conditioner by her shampoo bottle before squeezing its contents onto her head. She massages that in too, fingers working magic into her scalp, making her sigh in bliss once more. It still feels nice when she does that, still feels good to sink into her gentle movements—a part of her wants to return the favor, to wash Phoebe's hair just as she did, hers.
Not now, considering Phoebe's already showered before her, but soon, maybe.
And it's that, Zani guesses, that has her saying: "I would want to do this for you too next time, though." she mutters inadvertently, a little quieter than she'd been talking. It feels a bit… vulnerable, to be saying this, for some reason. "If you'll let me wash you, of course."
Phoebe hums. It sounds like she's deep in thought. "You do?"
Zani feels shy, now, for some reason. It's strange. She presses on, still.
"If you'll let me."
Maybe it's because this is the first time they've ever done this together, the first time they've showered together—even though only one of them is fully bare. That bare person being her, and not Phoebe, and even though they've seen each other without anything under the bedsheets, this still feels… different.
Different in a good way. It's not bad at all, to be taken care of like this. To have more of her shields lowered down, to be looked after, to be wanted for more than just her reliabilities—there's no one else who could make her feel so loved like this. No one else she wants to strip herself bare for, no one else she wishes to rub through her scalp under her showerhead.
Phoebe giggles, suddenly, and: "You can do that, next time." She says, only to follow up with a condition: "Preferably when you're not exhausted from overtime, or patrolling, or the like. I don't want you to accidentally fall asleep while you're shampooing my hair. For all we know, you'd fall face flat onto my head, and accidentally get the bubbles in your eyes. That can't possibly be good for your eyesight."
Zani blinks.
…Huh.
"Riiiight." Zani says, unbelieving. That sounds like too absurd of a scenario, there's no way she could ever fall asleep from exhaustion when the bathroom steam is enough to keep her eyes open, "I'd like to believe I'd never come to that, tesoro."
"Riiiight." Phoebe mimics her. The same drawn-out Is, the same unbelieving tone, "Like how Miss Zani definitely did not fall asleep halfway into kissing me even though you said you wouldn't be able to sleep without making me come at least once last week?"
Okay, well—"Not my fault you feel really nice to hold in my arms." In her defense, she does tend to hug her Phoebe as they succumb to rest. Plus, they'd been lazily kissing on their sides at that time. Not sitting, not standing, so really, really, it's not something she that normally happens. That, and another plus: "And the fact that you made me drink chamomile before we got to bed."
"You're nice to hold onto too, Miss Zani." Phoebe giggles, "But for the record, I'm not the one who fell asleep." She has to nail it again then, how tired she'd been: "Plus, I had two cups worth of chamomile, whereas you barely finished one."
"…Well."
She remembered that too? Fine, Zani guesses she will relent, this once. Just this once, because there's no use fighting a one-sided battle like this, anyways. She'd much rather save the little energy she has left to kiss her long enough before they sleep, without falling asleep halfway this time.
Phoebe's gracious, though, and she doesn't try to exhaust her point any longer. She simply crouches down, low enough to reach her back, and wets her lips when she kisses the tacet mark on Zani's back.
"Next time, okay?" Phoebe whispers, soft. Another kiss, then, one that sends shivers down Zani's back. "Just relax for now, don't think about work or overtime or anything else. I'll help you dry your hair after this."
And that's something she can live with, Zani thinks. There's no need to think of the stacks of paperwork that will come in the following days, or the boring meeting she'll have to endure until she could get to her lunch break. That can come later on, for the Zani of tomorrow, she thinks as she closes her eyes, feeling Phoebe's touch on her skin.
For now, it's just her and Phoebe. Her, and her beloved Phoebe, with her hands in her hair, and that's all she needs.