is it the whispering ghost that you fear the most?

[undonewithout]

Shameful as it is, the bathtub in Gideon's apartment still fills Harrow with an apprehension she knows is misplaced. This is not the Mithraeum; there are no threats lurking around the corner or waiting patiently just above the plaster of the ceiling, no need for wards on every surface and a wary eye at the door. Being aware of that doesn't stop the flutter in her chest or the twist in her guts as she tries to bathe, or limit the few seconds of panic she feels when rinsing her hair leaves her vision blurred with water, every inch of her waiting for rough hands on her shoulders and the hard push down.

She hasn't found a way to explain it to Gideon yet, to tell her about the Saint of Duty and his ceaseless siege against her, no reason for it she knows or can provide. She asks, instead, for her cavalier's protection, a seat outside the bathroom door and the black rapier in her hand. There are questions in Gideon's eyes every time--but every time, she nods and finds a chair.

Tonight has been quiet for them both, a simple dinner and a softly companionable few hours in the lounge, Harrow reading a book while Gideon sprawls on the couch, her headphones in and connected to the television. Once or twice, Gideon's fingers brush her ankle, and Harrow doesn't flinch away. As the show Gideon had been watching ends and the credits start to roll, Harrow marks her place and sets her book down.

"I was going to take a bath," she says when Gideon pulls her headphones from her ears. She worries her lip in her teeth. "Would you...?"

Comments

[wedobones]

"It's general dogs body, right?" says Gideon, gently teasing. "Who else is going to make you tea." Her fingers drift through the water over Harrow's ribs.

[undonewithout]

"You make me tea because you don't trust me in the kitchen," says Harrow, keenly aware of the shift of Gideon's hand, counting each slow touch to the curving lines of her ribcage. Faint tension settles in the line of her back and the angle of her shoulders, but she doesn't move away. Her teeth catch her lip, reminded of their prior conversation, of the desperate measures she'd been pushed to on the Mithraeum.

"Nor should you, frankly."

[wedobones]

"In my defense, the last time you tried to do anything in the kitchen, you set fire to a dishcloth," says Gideon, resting her chin against Harrow's shoulder for a moment, her fingers still idly drifting through the water above Harrow's skin. "Ever your sword, Harrow. For whatever you need. And you know it."

[undonewithout]

"You will be unsurprised and not particularly reassured to know that's not the worst thing I could have done," she murmurs, making a quiet noise when Gideon's chin brushes her bare shoulder. It's dark in the bathroom, but she closes her eyes anyway, for the sake of another layer, another barrier. "I know that. I promise you, I know that."

[wedobones]

"You're right," says Gideon, the corner of her mouth twitching in a smile. "I'm not at all surprised." She shifts, the water sloshing softly around them in the tub. "This is nice, though. We could do this again."

[undonewithout]

Gideon moves behind her, changing the points of contact between their bodies, and even if it's slight it's still a reminder of where they are; that Gideon's half-clothed and Harrow naked, the water growing colder around them. She can hear a low reprise beginning of the panicked, staticky whine in her head, the alarm tone that now sounds to her more dire than the tolling of any bell in Drearburh. Carefully, she leans forward, putting space between the warm solidity of Gideon's chest and the curve of her back.

"I told you not to get used to it, so don't."

[wedobones]

Harrow pulls away and something in Gideon's belly writhes, slimy and cold. She lifts both hands and wipes damp palms over her face.

"Understood," she says. After a moment, she pushes to her feet and steps out of the tub, reaching for a towel. "I'll be outside if you need me, okay?"

[undonewithout]

Harrow's discomfort takes a different form when Gideon pulls her hands away and stands up again, the water pattering noisily from her body and her sodden underthings. She doesn't turn to watch her fumble for a towel, staying still and curled forward again, wrapped in on herself in the dark. Words claw at her throat, things that might call Gideon back and that are too bare, too childishly helpless, to say. She lets her mouth be a prison, locks them tight behind the clench of her teeth, and soon they subside into nearly nothing again.

"That's fine. I won't be much longer," she says after a minute. "Turn the light on as you leave."

[wedobones]

"Your wish, my command, night boss," says Gideon, her voice quiet and impassive as she wraps the towel around her and steps out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her.