Chapter 11 #2
I drum my fingers on my arm. “Then humor me. Do it for me and Dingle? Because I’d really like to live, and I think he would, too.”
We both look over at the goat, who’s lapping up water from the floor.
“Oh, very well.” Kalos gives another dramatic sigh. “Show me what I must do.”
Strangely enough, that worked. Huh. I’ll have to keep his affection for the goat as my ace in the hole.
Kinda stings a bit that my well-being doesn’t move him as much as the goat’s happiness does, but I’ll take what I can get.
For the next while, we get to work on bringing in more water.
I have to show him how to operate the well, which is not easy to do in the darkness, and I don’t dare speak above a whisper.
I warm the water for him because it’s too much effort to explain how, and as it heats up, I put on my wet dress and use a wide-tooth comb from the pack to detangle my hair.
By the time I’m done, Kalos’s bath is ready.
“Come on then,” I say, gesturing at the half-full tub. “If you squeeze tight, you can probably fold most of yourself in there. I managed.”
He eyes it, then me. “And just…what?”
I make a washing gesture. “Scrub yourself?”
Kalos blinks at me. “In what way?”
I put my hands on my hips. Has this man never…
wait, nope. No, he hasn’t. Okay, teaching a god how to wash his ass wasn’t on my bingo card.
I guess if you’ve never bathed yourself before, you wouldn’t know where to start.
I…guess? It seems bizarre to me, but what about this situation isn’t?
“Right. Fine. Get naked, and I’ll do it for you this time, and you can handle it from then on, all right? ”
“If you insist.”
He makes it sound like this is all my idea. It’s amusing and irritating at the same time. “You can’t just wander around a major city covered in mud, my friend. It’s just not done. We want to blend in, remember?”
“I suppose.” Kalos pulls his filthy robe over his head and drops it to the floor.
The very wet, dirty floor. I bite back another protest because…well, it can’t get any dirtier, right?
I’m also reminded that Kalos is a grown man, but I don't think I've seen him naked before. If I had, I think I’d remember that he has a huge, pale cock tipped with a bright pink head. As cocks go, it’s perfect.
Which makes sense, given that he’s a god.
Even so, does he have to have everything just…
all hanging out while I’m trying to concentrate?
Kalos steps into the tub and tries to fold himself in and fails miserably. His legs are too long, and the rest of him is a good deal bigger than I am.
“Just do what you can,” I advise him, trying not to blush.
He eventually squats in the tub on his haunches, the expression he shoots my way baleful. It allows him to get into the water up to a certain point, but his junk hangs between his thighs and dips against the surface when he moves.
Teabagging. I swear I’m not going to laugh. I swear I’m not. But at least I’m no longer marveling at how attractive his dick is.
He hugs his knees and glares up at me. “How long will this take?”
“Let’s wash your hair first, all right? It’s the most noticeable.” I gently pour warm water over his long hair and brown mud streams down his back. Hints of the silvery mass show through, but it definitely needs cleaning. “Just hold still and I’ll soap it up for you.”
Kalos remains quiet as I gather up his long, thick hair in my hands. It isn’t as tangled as my own and seems a lot more like silk. There’s also a ton of it. It’s surprisingly dense and feels heavy as I work it into a lather.
“You’ll feel better clean,” I tell him to break the silence in the room. I don’t like it when things are too quiet. Maybe I just don’t like to be left alone with my thoughts.
“I know I don’t seem appreciative, but I am. This feels impossible to do on my own.”
Remorse hits me. Whoever or whatever Kalos is, he’s saddled with Apathy. It’s no different than being depressed back home. Actually, it’s better back home because we have therapy and medication. Kalos has…me. I pat his shoulder. “We’re going to get through this. I promise.”
“One of us won’t.”
I go silent, because he’s right. In order for him to ascend back to the heavens, I have to die.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek and think of David.
David, who’s getting cured from his cancer because Lachesis promised.
David, who is going to get everything he wants out of life.
What was I doing, anyhow? Dog walking and making coffees?
I didn’t even finish college. If one of us has to live, it should be David.
Still stings, though. Softly, I say, “I hope that’s a long time coming. ”
“I don’t know how I feel,” Kalos admits, staring straight ahead as I work my sudsy fingers through a muddy knot. “I loathe the mortal plane. Loathe my weakness. Loathe that I must go through this farce of an Anticipation yet again.”
“But…?” I prompt.
“But I do not like the thought of you suffering for my benefit. You have been patient. And kind. And I am grateful.” He says the words grudgingly. “And I will miss the goat.”
My lips twitch. “I like how every time you give me the tiniest fraction of a compliment, you point out how much you like the goat. I think you like him more than me.”
“There’s no need to be jealous of a goat. He wouldn’t wash my hair for me, would he?” He turns his head and gazes up at me askance. “He wouldn’t try to read the map. Though you’re about as good with it as he is.”
“I’m going to ignore that and focus on your compliments,” I say cheerfully and rub his scalp, dragging my nails lightly along his head to get the worst of the grit free.
He tenses and sucks in a breath.
I go still. “Bad? Should I stop?”
“No. Do it again.” His voice is low. “I liked it.”
And he’s not good at realizing that he likes things.
I wonder about him. What’s he like when he’s the Voltron version of himself, all recombined with all the other facets of his existence?
Is he like this but just more? Or is he completely different?
I massage his scalp and think about his penis again. “Just so you know, this isn’t sexual.”
“I didn’t say it was.” His tone is accusing. “I wouldn’t fuck my Anchor. That’d be like…fucking my backpack. You exist to provide a service, nothing more.”
“Wow. Just…wow.” I lift my hands free. “You know what? You can finish washing yourself. I’m good here.”
Before I can back away, he grabs my wet, soapy hand and glares up at me. “No. You continue.”
“Or what?” I bristle.
“Or I’ll give you a pox.”
Of all the…I forget all about being cheerful and point a finger at his face. “You’re a fucking dick and that’s not the way to get what you want.”
He bares his teeth at me. “You don’t like it when I’m truthful?”
“I don’t like it when you’re hurtful,” I retort, getting in his face. “There’s no need to be an asshole. We’re in this together, remember? I don’t have a way home. I gave up everything to be here…”
My voice trembles and I stop, because I don’t want to cry. Not when he’s being, well, himself. Crying won’t solve anything. It just makes me weak.
“Fine. Please continue servicing me.”
I regret ever thinking his dick was pretty. I regret ever being nice to him. For a moment, I regret saying yes to Lachesis when she came to me with her bargain. But then I imagine David with his degree. David as a doctor. David with a family.
With a heavy sigh of my own, I put my hands in his thick hair again and continue washing it.
“Rub like you did before,” he demands.
“No. I’m still mad at you. I’ll help you wash but I’m not doing things you like if you can’t even be civil to me. Fucking rude. I’m not a shoe.”
“Fine. You’re like…the goat.”
That makes me pause. “You like the goat.”
“Yes. He’s charming in his ignorance. I like that he is always happy. That nothing seems to make him miserable. And yet…he still irritates me. He smells and prances about far too much. He shits everywhere. He tries to eat my clothing.”
And in his eyes, I’m like the goat. Am I offended by that? I have to consider for a hot moment. I guess a human would seem like they’re eating and shitting everywhere, compared to a god that does neither. “I’ve never tried to eat your clothing.”
He huffs. “Not yet.”
That earns him a wry snort of amusement. “You’re still an ass, for the record.”
“And yet we are still bound together,” he agrees. “Stuck with one another, as I believe you said once.”
Yeah, I probably did. I scratch his scalp a little—just enough that he won’t bitch about it—and pull back. “Close your eyes so I can rinse your hair out.”
It takes two rounds of hair washing and me making another trip out to the well in the darkness before I’m satisfied that his hair is clean.
All those silver locks are dense. It’s a terrible tangle, too.
I pile it atop his head and scrub his back, calling out instructions so he can bathe himself in the future.
I give the rest of him a quick once-over (except for the groin, because fuck all that) and pull out the last clean blanket so he can wrap himself in it.
Once he’s out of the water, I dump our dirty clothes in it.
I’ll have to rinse them a couple of times with more water, but for now a little soaking can’t hurt.
“Come sit by the fire and I’ll comb your hair for you,” I say to Kalos.
“Once we’re dry and clean and the laundry is wrung out, we should probably go. ”
“If you’re worried about rot, I can probably do something about that,” he says mildly, but moves to sit by the fire.