tushanshu_logs | [closed] This blood on my teeth is far beyond dry

Thank you.

[Bertolt leans against Reiner, just a little; Reiner is about the only person alive with unspoken, explicit permission to touch him whenever he likes, and Bertolt drinks it in like a plant seeking sunshine.]

I'll help however I can.

[After he cleans up. No one would give him a job looking and smelling like he does right now.]

[Reiner hums lightly in response. He honestly wasn't expecting anything else. Bertolt had always fallen in line with him without struggle. Annie was going to be a bigger problem.

He guides Bertolt to the bathroom, pushing open the door before giving him a forward little shove.]

Lemme go grab the stuff we got you, okay?

[It's probably a bad idea to leave Bertolt alone in the bathroom; it's so completely different from what he's used to that he simply stands in the door, gaping, until Reiner comes back.]

[It isn't too long before Reiner returns, a clean change of clothes for both of them draped over his arm. When he spots Bertolt standing transfixed in the open door, he laughs for a moment, though he completely gets it. He had stared much the same himself.

Giving him a shove, he pushes him into the bathroom.]

Nothing like home, right?

[He isn't even talking about their village, not really.]

What is all this?

[Bertolt stumbles inside the room when Reiner pushes him, still gawking like a little kid.]

Where does the water come from?

[He doesn't see any buckets, where are the buckets they're going to use to haul the water in?]

[He shrugs.]

Just go with it.

[He's quickly coming to understand that in this place he'd not going to understand a thing. And he figures he can either agonize about that, on top of all the other things he needs to keep in mind, or he can just use it to his advantage.]

Here, watch.

[Dumping their clothes on the closed lid of the toilet seat, he pulls Bertolt closer to the shower, reaching in to turn the knob and turn on the water.]

Reiner!

[Bertolt snakes his arm in around Reiner, imitating his movements and first turning the water up higher before turning it off, soaking the sleeve of his shirt and sweater.]

What are you doing, you're going to waste it!

[He wasn't ready yet! By the time he got his clothes off, the water would be gone!]

[Despite all they have done and all they have become, messing around with Bertolt in the same way they have done since the time of their childhood is always easy. Reiner grins as he turns the shower on again, this time shoving Bertolt forward under the spray.]

Relax, it doesn't run out at all.

[Bertolt yelps when Reiner pushes him forward, and then the water is spraying in his eyes and he needs to blink rapidly to clear them.]

It's so hot.

[His clothes are soaked and clinging to him, but he's too interested in this device now. He peers up at the shower head, looking at the little bullets of water pounding down on him.]

Where is it coming from?

There.

[Reiner jerks his thumb at the shower head. He knows that isn't answering Bertolt's question, but he doesn't have any other answers for him. This kind of stuff goes utterly beyond him.]

[Yes, thank you, Reiner, that's very helpful. Bertolt leans closer, reaching up to touch the shower head and feel the water pulsing through it. His first instinct is that he should go ask Armin about it, because Armin would know how it works, or they could try and figure it out together.]

[Except he can't ask Armin, can he? Not anymore.]

[Bertolt sighs, bending his head to let the water pound over it, and starts stripping out of his clothes, letting them fall into sodden heaps at his feet. He doesn't try to cover up or hide himself from Reiner. Why would he? They've seen each other naked countless times since they were kids, and then more while living in the barracks. Reiner's seen his naked body before.]

[Once his clothes are gone and kicked to a pile in the back of the shower, Bertolt starts eying all the bottles strewn around the shower stall. Soap, at least, he recognizes, and he plucks up the bar and starts soaping up.]

Reiner? Which one of these is for hair?

[He lives to serve.

With Bertolt stripping himself of his clothes, Reiner pulls back and heads for the sink. Bertolt isn't five anymore, it's not like he needs help. Over by the sink is the one thing he had spent far too many hours trying to find. The straight razor had been a bit harsh on their budget, but hey, he (and now Bertolt too) need to shave, and whatever little black devices and breakable looking razors they used here, he isn't putting those anywhere near his face. He likes his face. He doesn't want to slice it off!

He's always up to getting a good lather going here, when Bertolt's question drifts over to him.]

Red bottle.

Thanks.

[He finds the red bottle and shakes it quizzically, surprised to hear a liquid splashing around inside. He'd half-expected to just use the bar of soap on his hair; having something liquid to wash with is kind of new. He pours a little out on his hand, hardly more than a dollop, and brings it to his face to smell it, his nose wrinkling at the fruity, aggressive scent. Nothing to do but to try it, right?]

[He puts it on his head and starts working it through his hair, his eyes widening in amazement when it starts turning to suds under his hands. Liquid sudsy stuff to wash your hair and hot water that still hasn't run out… wonders will never cease.]

[Reiner can't help the snort of laughter when he spots Bertolt's surprised look, courtesy of the mirror. Feels like it has been a while since either of them could be so innocently boggled over all the things this place was presenting them with.]

Don't get too excited by it. Or if you do, at least let me clear out of here first.

[]Bertolt looks over his shoulder and gives Reiner a very flat look. Like he’d start to jerk off with his friend right there! Who does Reiner think he is, Jean?]

It smells really nice.

[Said with as much dignity as he can muster, and then Bertolt goes back to lathering up.]

[Maybe a guy can dream, ok.]

Smells like rubbing a tub of ripe strawberries on your hair.

[He is not deeply into fruit scents.]

It's better than wood ashes and rendered fat.

[Or letting your hair get so greasy it starts to dread on its own. That's not too cool either.]

[With his hair all nice and sudsy, Bertolt gets the bar of soap and starts washing the rest of himself. He might not start jerking off in front of Reiner, but he has no compunctions about soaping up his groin, his nose wrinkling a little as the grime starts to sluice down the drain. Good god, he got filthy.]

Okay, point.

[Can't disagree with him there. That said, life would be so much better if everybody was just sensible and cut their hair short like him.

While Bertolt washes, he returns his attention back to shaving again, the next comment idle, out before he even realizes it.]

Sasha would probably try and eat it.

[Bertolt looks really silly with short hair.]

[He stops what he's doing at Reiner's next comment, his hands freezing where they are, and for a moment, the only sound in the bathroom is the pattering of water off the tiles near Bertolt's feet. Then, slowly, he starts washing again.]

She would.

[His voice is cautious, guarded; part of him wants to remind Reiner that they can't think like that anymore, that Sasha hates them now, just like everyone else, and it does him no good to think of her fondly. The other part of him wants to agree, and reminisce, and talk about better, simpler times.]

[He seems spurred on by that comment.]

Remember that time she killed a boar during training? Just cause it was there. Man, I don't think they ever served us anything to equal that.

[Reminiscing is easy. If he just focuses on the good memories, the bubbling guilt at the pit of his stomach, the screaming weight of his crimes, feels lessened somewhat, shoved away to a distant corner until it overwhelms him again.]

Reiner.

[Bertolt can't look at him right now; he can't deal with pulling him back. Except he has to, doesn't he? Who else will do it?]

That's not who we are. We're not soldiers, we're warriors.

[And thinking any differently will just lead to pain.]

I know, I know.

[His voice is rough, harsher than intended maybe, but his irritation is less at Bertolt and more at himself. Was he really that undependable that every little thing makes Bertolt think he has slipped again?]

I know what I am, Bertolt. I just... wanted to talk about good things for a change.

Then why don't we talk about going home instead?

[Bertolt isn't offended by Reiner's tone; the fact that he's being so harsh shows that he knows who he is right now, and knows that he might slip away again.]

[Because as much as he wants to flee home, he knows going home will not be that easy. They had failed and failure was not something that was acceptable. Not only that, but Annie was still behind the walls, and their opponents now knew too much. Not everything, but more than they should know. Eren had the power of the coordinate, and they had not even been able to bring Krista-- no, Historia, wasn't it, along.

But it is still their home.

He leans against the sink, idly shaving another section of his cheek before he says, with slightly forced cheer:]

Remember how you used to get stuck in trees?

[Maybe cause Berick and Reiner kept daring him, maybe because of that.]

Yes.

[Bertolt's memories of their home aren't as good as Reiner's; training was more difficult for him, more traumatic, and if asked, he wouldn't say he had a happy childhood. However, going home means not being a monster anymore, and that is something he clings to.]

You always thought it was so funny that someone who could grow so tall would get stuck in a tree.

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