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“Hey, it's warm now.” Scout tugged on Sniper's finger, who was mindlessly scratching at his face in the mirror with his other hand. He led them into the shower-bath, closing the curtain behind them both.
Sniper hissed a little as the scalding water splashed onto his back and legs for a split second. Hunching behind his lover’s shoulder, he pressed his face into the damp skin and asked the boy to turn the temperature down.
Scout did, of course. He'd do anything for him. “That okay now?” The boy asked, moving them under the shower head.
Sniper only nodded.
That was usually what happened. Long day, and Sniper hadn't had much to say regardless. He felt silly for talking most of the time, so he just wouldn't unless he had to. Every time he'd try to open his mouth, the back of his throat would seize and his nose would tingle, threatening to make him shed more than just a few tears again. The crying made him feel even more embarrassed, so he opted to just not say anything at all.
He just wanted to hold Scout. Didn't need to say anything.
Scout mostly understood. He wrapped his lean arms around Sniper's chest and pulled him tight. The skin on skin felt more grounding than anything else. More vulnerable than sex, even. Not bound together by a human lust that blinds all good judgement in favor of the biological need to procreate; rather- there , in the moment, stripped of anything keeping you hidden. Cleaning each other, too, was even more intimate. You'd feel over every mole or scar of the other- memorize each bump and divot with your hands- scrub the dirt and dead skin away, starting anew.
Like a rebirth by the one you hold most dear.
By the one who is your everything.
Scout lathered shampoo into his hands and scrubbed a little into his hair. Whenever he put his hands up, Sniper made it a habit to lower his head regardless, so sudsing up his mess of hair took little begging. Scout massaged it into his own scalp first since he had a far shorter cut, then switched back to Sniper's once more. He scratched at the scabs and patches of built up dead skin that weren't all too taken care of, picking his way around not unlike a little monkey.
Sniper let out a sigh of relief after one sore was busted free. It was, admittedly, very gross. His head sores were better than what they used to be, now that Scout was around, but he still couldn't help the fact they won't ever go away for good. They would build up tension on his skin, and he'd itch them until they bled and became even more irritated. The boy however, got all the gunk out and washed the wounds after, even plucking impacted hairs if needed. His hands were surprisingly steady if posing his task like a challenge.
And he loved him. Even though it was a little nasty, Scout loved him. It wasn't that gross to him.
He led Sniper's head into the water to wash out the soap, tousling his long hair at the base to make sure every nook and cranny of that shampoo was down the drain. Doing the same to his own hair, he told Sniper to pick out what loofah he wanted to use. They had quite a few, most for different things. Some were the traditional ruffled circles, while others had a bar of soap inside it, and one was even like a big toothbrush.
Sniper chose the rag. Scout knew he would, he always does. But getting to pick meant the world to him.
It's the little things.
“You want that one again, hm?” Scout asked, getting a nod in response. “Hold it for me while I finish your hair, Mickey.”
Conditioner was all that was left; they got it specifically for Sniper. It helped bring back some softness to his hair, and turn down the frizziness that made it tangle all the more easier.
Scout made Sniper turn around and lean back a bit so the shorter could run his fingers through the man's hair. The white mask spread over the locks, smelling faintly of lemon.
Sniper loved lemons. He found that it was easier to get them in the United States when they actually tasted good , not unripe or artificially turned-of-age. Although, he didn't exactly enjoy them squeezed over meats; eating them fresh or making a simple lemonade was good enough for him.
“‘Kay, we can let that sit for a bit now,” Scout turned the man around, taking the rag and using the corner to wipe at the corners of Sniper's eyes, then mouth. “Let's save the razor for next time. Your scruff still has a bit to grow out.”
Sniper nodded again - only enough that if you weren't looking for a reaction, you wouldn't have noticed it.
The younger cupped his cheeks, rag still in one hand, and pressed a kiss to his lips. They were wet from the steam, and Sniper gave almost nothing back, but it still meant something to them both.
“I love you, Mickey.”
The man’s complexion deepened and he looked away. He loved Scout too. More than he'd ever know.
Scout placed the cloth back in his lover's hands, urging him to turn around too. “Gotta wash out the conditioner,” He said softly, easing his fingers through the man’s hair. The slimy feeling quickly washed out, replaced by the softness of waterlogged strands. Ever since Sniper started letting Scout take care of his hair, it hasn't snarled as easily anymore; Scout would brush it out gently every morning and every night, add these hippy-dippy oils they found at some holistic shop…
He smoothed his hands over Sniper's hunched back, earning a shiver and straightened posture. He was so responsive despite his lack of speech, sort of like a puppy that hasn't found its bark yet. “Can I scrub you up?” Scout asked, getting a positive response from the man.
Sniper let Scout wash him with the soapy rag; top to bottom, on and around every curve (despite how flat they looked), in and between every crevice. The boy swiped at Sniper's shoulder blades, leaving soapy bubbles on the little hairs there. He spun the marksman around for the last time. Pawing at his neck, down to his collar bones, chest - the way the dark hairs there moved and made squiggly patterns with each drop of water was mesmerizing. The hair trailed down to an even more plentiful bunch.
Scout adored the way the hair on Sniper's groin stood out further and curled into very dark ringlets… There was a lot of it too. He loved to run his hands through it and feel the individual hairs brush under his fingernails.
“D’ya want me to wash you here, too?”
Sniper looked down at where Scout was pointing. His dick and balls. Not like he hadn't fondled them before-
Sniper let him.
Scout wrung out the rag and filled it with fresh soapy water. He was gentle with Sniper - very. Almost like petting a cat, he dragged the cloth over the man’s limp prick, making sure to pull back his foreskin and clean out the smegma, washing it under the water before sheathing him again. Next, his… balls… They were okay. Scout still found the visual concept of them a little odd, but they were Sniper’s , so he was infatuated with them nonetheless. He folded the rag and lifted Sniper's arms to get at his forested armpits. Good lord they were hairy. Wow .
Letting the arms go, they fell to the man's side slowly, and the rag was folded one last time. Scout's one hand braced against Sniper's stomach as the other reached around to clean between his cheeks.
Sniper tensed up while the runner was washing him back there - he really did not like things around, near, or touching his butthole. It was one of the most violating feelings ever, even if what was going on was for the greater good.
Regardless, now he was squeaky clean. Scout wrung out the rag again and motioned for Sniper to hand him his own, already full of soap. It was a far softer material since he had more sensitive skin than the sun tanned man.
Sniper hesitated, not wanting to give up the cloth.
“...Unless you wanna do it?” Scout asked, already assuming it was a yes. His fingers lingered on Sniper's hands and forearm, making the man's mouth run dry.
“Y-yeah.” Sniper mumbled, unable to bring himself to look his lover in the eyes.
Scout grinned sweetly at the vocalized answer. They've been making a lot of progress lately. He pressed the man's hand to his underdeveloped chest, the other without the cloth rested on a shoulder. Sniper rubbed methodical circles into the skin and watched little white bubbles form in its path. He was much slower about the process of cleaning the boy, despite his habit to forget to clean himself and wallow in his own filth.
Scout liked Sniper’s smell. A lot. It smelled of everything he loved; his gun, the dirt, cigarettes - it smelled of home. But his health was paying the price for the long stints of uncleanliness.
He had made his way down to the boy’s groin now too, lightly stroking the hairs over his pubis. They were more sparse compared to his own, and collected at a point just above his clit like a little wisp. He’d only recently stopped shaving his legs too, so the peachy hair was still very short. Sniper raised his gaze back to settle on Scout’s.
“Go on.”
Between the folds and front to back - he wasn't that slow, he knew how to wipe right - making sure not to get any soap in the hole by accidentally pushing in. He also got Scout's bottom, very last of course.
The runner discarded the rag next to the other one, hung up on a bar to drip dry. “Since we're clean…” He walked his fingers up Sniper's shoulder, to his neck. “We should take a bath. I think that sounds good.”
Sniper gave a little grunt of approval, so the other changed the water flow from the overhead to the faucet.
He immediately plopped down, splashing the water in the slowly filling basin at Sniper's feet. “C’mon, sit with me, Snipes.”
And he did.
Carefully though and not without a hand on the side of the tub. Quite young yet the back of an elderly man. The world can be cruel sometimes.
Warm water lapped at the backs of his knees as he spread out his legs and rested against the other side of the tub. The soapy bubbles from the cap full of mixture Scout ran under the faucet made their way to Sniper, popping when they hit his dry skin, too.
They rarely took baths. And never together .
Quickly, the water had risen to their belly buttons, threatening to slosh over the edge of the tub with any sudden move until the flow was cut.
Scout let out a relaxed sigh. He sank down to his back, head barely poking out of the water. “‘S warm. Feels like I’m floating, Snipes.” He muttered, tangling his soft and lean legs with Sniper's prickly and sinewy ones. He giggled and raised a shoulder when the man tried to tickle his neck with his gangly toes. “Stop ittt- Sniper! ”
Sniper laughed - he laughed - wholeheartedly, too. Crooked teeth fitting together in a jagged, yet warm, grin. He held the little pudge on his belly as he calmed himself, but the smile still stayed.
Scout rose back up to his knees, awkwardly straddling Sniper's legs, and hands braced on the wall by the man's head. He leaned in like one would, but only to stare into the other’s eyes. A fat smirk painted his face that was already a fine peachy pink, emphasized by the plush of his high cheeks.
The boy kissed a mole on Sniper's right eyelid. Then one on the corner of his lip. He inspected his neck, smoothing his thumbs over each bundle of muscle. He found another mole behind Sniper's ear, and licked it. The taste of soap still lingered, bitter on his tongue.
Each little dark speck Scout found, he pressed his lips to. He could feel Sniper's breathing becoming labored each time he dug his fingers into the man's visible ribs. Kissing one of the many that littered his lower torso, Scout's chin brushed something soft under the water.
“Mm.” Sniper nearly whined as Scout giggled at him.
“Your wiener‘s floatin’-”
Sniper pulled some of the bubbles over his crotch. “They jus’ do that…” He stammered, trying to hide his prick.
Scout wasn't having it, though.
He scooped up the bubbles and shaped them into a beard on Sniper's face.
Sniper looked like an anorexic Santa; like he'd been dropped off and left in the desert for a few months, yet that bushy, white beard still stayed.
He sputtered and coughed- the soapy water trailed into the corner of his mouth and hit his tongue like a slap to the face. It was so bitter.
Snickering a little, Scout attempted to wipe the bubbles off the man's face. “Aw crap, are- are you okay?”
“Y- bugger . Yeah.” Sniper caught his breath, and wiped a hand over the lower half of my mouth.
The boy patted his lover's shoulder. “We should probably get out now.”
Sniper looked at the prune on the pads of his fingers and agreed. “Alright.”