Mitsuru's bikini is a shade whiter than her skin. Aki's got a pair of black Speedos. Shinji is wearing the same grey-brown-navy pair of underwear he's been wearing for the last four days sodden against his skin, isn't enjoying the view, clamping his eyes shut against the shampoo suds trailing down his face, because they're making him take a bath, the bastards.
They'd both forced him seated, and Aki's still kneeling behind him, pinning Shinji's arms down against his sides with a two-arm grip that Shinji doesn't even try to break. The bath room is hot and humid from the bath already run, leaving Shinji the stubborn side of dizzy.
Mitsuru splashes cool water over Shinji's face, clearing his eyes, and then reaches up to pour a small bucketful over his head, rinsing again and again. Her bikini ties between her tits. The next kind of goop she pours onto his head smells of peaches instead of strawberries, and this time, it doesn't foam as she threads it through his hair with her fingers.
"If you thought I was this dirty, why'd you want me back?"
"It's not like that," Aki says. "At the orphanage, we used shower together all the time."
Shinji cranes his neck round to see how much Aki's failing to say that with a straight face. He doesn't manage to see more than Aki's shoulder and neck, pink from the heat. At the orphanage, they did this naked, and without girls, and the most fun they knew how to have with their dicks were literal pissing contests.
"It's nice, isn't it? To feel clean?" Aki is leaning forward, the side of his face against Shinji's shoulder and maybe Shinji's leaning back. The steam, right?
"We wanted to welcome you back."
Her ice glare must have melted in the heat. Mitsuru Kirijo, at his feet, rubbing at the scuffed, hard calluses around his heel with a light grey stone and deft, almost impersonal strokes. Back then, she was the girl, and she was the voice chiming in both their ears when he and Aki took out the shadows. Time has made it easier to see all the ways she's just like Aki, trying too damn hard and completely clueless about what her touch is doing to him. Shit, but she didn't have that ass two years ago. But, she is looking at his feet now as intensely as she had been looking at his hair before, and nothing in between. Well, there isn't much to look at, is there?
She and Aki don't act like they've got it going on. They're only touching him, not each other, and anyway, Shinji is still waiting for the day when Aki will turn up with 'I've lost my cherry' written plain across his face. They've still got something going on, because double-teaming him with lotions and wash cloths, making him smell like a fucking dessert, that doesn't just happen because someone gets bored.
When Mitsuru says she's done with his feet, Aki tells Shinji to stand up. Aki rearranges his arms, but doesn't let go, and so Shinji doesn't need something to hold onto to get across the room.
"Don't let me drown." It sounds more needy once he says it, but Aki's chest is solid behind his back, solid enough to sink against.
Mitsuru's piled her hair on top of her head. She steps down onto the seat across from them, sitting, her smaller feet slipping between his and Aki's. Her toes find his heels, almost tickling.
He should tell them they make fuck all sense, Shinji thinks, drifting off in the liquid heat. But, later.