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

[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.

[Reiner half turns to regard him.]

It's not even like you were bad at climbing trees. You just kept losing your nerve.

[Based on sheer technique and reach, Bertolt could've been the best tree-climber of the three of them, if only he hadn't constantly frozen up with every sway of the branches under his feet.]

Remember how I broke my arm trying to catch you that one time.

Edited 2014-02-11 20:27 (UTC)

[Dude, don't look at him like that when he's showering! Bertolt sticks his head under the spray to rinse his hair out before he responds.]

Good thing you knew how to heal it, or we would have been in trouble coming back.

[He isn't looking looking, just... looking.

He shrugs a little at that though.]

Hey, I promised I would get you down.

[He says that in a tone that very much conveys he still thinks it was the right decision, that conveys that he would've made the same decision even if he couldn't heal or if they would've gotten in trouble. He'd promised, after all.]

So you broke your arm instead of me breaking my ankles.

[Which, considering the phobia he developed later, was actually one of the nicest things Reiner has ever done for him.]

Thanks. For getting me down.

[Reiner does nothing but nice things for him.]

Well, if Berick would've tried he probably would've broken his ribs. You're heavy, you know?

[Not as heavy as Reiner, but you know, he is a tall guy and got plenty of weight to him.]

[Bertolt never said he didn't. Even when Reiner is lost in being a soldier, he's still nothing but kind and supportive to Bertolt. It's not his fault that he doesn't realize how bad some of the things he says then hurt.]

I know.

[Years of barracks life and cold showers have turned Bertolt into a master of cleaning quickly and efficiently, and he turns off the shower and steps out, leaving his stinky, soaked clothes at the bottom of the stall for later.]

Where are the towels?

[Reiner jerks his head to the right, indicating the closet that holds their towels. Their super fluffy, soft towels. Compared to the scratchy, standard towel they got in the 104th, these are divine.]

Go for it. And toss me one.

[So he can finish up shaving and wash his face.]

[The bathroom is larger than any Bertolt has ever seen before, but they're big guys, and to reach the towels, he needs to brush past Reiner, his damp skin whispering against him. He doesn't apologize; why would he need to? It's not like this hasn't happened before, a million times.]

[He plucks a towel out of the closet, marveling for a moment at its softness, before he drapes it over Reiner's shoulder. He takes another for himself and aggressively towels off his hair before getting to the rest of him, starting with his arms and chest and then working his way downward.]

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