#obanai doesnt have this bandages on btw

[xxlady-lunaxx]

sanemi’s hands are gentle. unnaturally tender despite his rough fingers and scarred palms. he washes obanai’s back with the warmth of the soft flames of fire. obanai thinks this is what it must feel like to be cared for. he’s involuntarily relaxing into sanemi’s touch, eyes fluttering closed before he realizes.

the sloshing of water is quiet, sanemi brings a soaked towel to obanai’s limbs and scrubs the blood away. he’s careful with the new wounds, patting them clean and washing them till the water stops turning pink. he moves to obanai’s hair, having him tip his head back as he cards his fingers through the locks, getting the water through. he massages his scalp in a way that has obanai leaning into his hands, chasing the comfort until sanemi pulls away.

shampoo is throughly soaked in, then another bucket of water washes it out. it was heated beforehand, warm against obanai’s cool skin, fighting back the sharp chill of the air. he hums something of approval, keeping his head tilted back until sanemi has wiped any excess shampoo from obanai’s forehead and made sure there was nothing getting in his eyes.

then it’s sanemi’s turn and they switch places, obanai rearranging his towel on his waist. sanemi sits patiently as obanai’s less practiced, clumsy scrubbing takes place on his shoulders and back. he’s almost guiding obanai through it, lifting his arm so obanai can lather it with soap. his hands run down the scarred skin, feeling almost reverently over until the suds are washed away. sanemi washes his own hair as obanai pours the shampoo in, and they make quick work of the short, white mess of his head.

he laughs, mostly pained, when soap makes its way into his eyes and obanai apologetically dumps water over his face, retrieving a spare, dry towel to rub the soap and water out. the buckets are put away and their towels are set aside as they dip into the tub, the water not as warm as it was before. still, it’s nice, and they’re quiet in the little room. steam, trapped in the closed windows, keep the temperature gentle and keep them from freezing as they soak in the rare peace time they have.

it’s usually hard to imagine people like sanemi or obanai would enjoy something like this. but right now, they seem perfectly in place, expressions slack with contentment as they sink till the water is up to their shoulders and the tension has seeped away with the soap from earlier.