bakerstreet | Intimate personal care

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Intimate personal care

The Personal Hygiene Shipping Meme

Personal hygiene is just that - personal. By the time we've come to a point in our lives where we notice that the concept exists and we should be prudent about it, we can take care of ourselves. There are also many practical reasons why we don't involve other people in this process. We're not too keen on showing off parts to be cleaned that are private in most contexts, and there's definitely an ingrained aversion to showing so much soft, fleshy skin. Hot water or a sharp razor could spell dangerous with a capital D should they come into the hands of someone with a vendetta against you. No need to be extra vulnerable.

So, if you're involving another person in your cleansing routines, it must be someone you trust. Not only that, but it's most likely someone you're comfortable with and likely at least somewhat open to being intimate with. You may not be dropping all your clothing in front of them, but it's still you opening yourself up to touching and closeness unparalleled in more "usual" moments.

Established and burgeoning couples (or not-so-couples) can bond through this showing of care and good faith. Will you like being pampered and find the attention endearing? Or will things go terribly, terribly wrong?

...you never should have let them near that shaving cream.

Comment with your character and preferences.
Smut is not required. Mention if you want/don't want it.
Reply to others and use the RNG.

Comfort: You've decided to pitch in a helping hand to get your partner to unwind, and warm water or suds may do the trick.
Romantic: The sole purpose of this endeavor is to set a lovey-dovey mood. No shame here!
It Started Out Platonic...: What a good pal you are, volunteering to give your friend a good scrub. Of course, you didn't count on the cute way she squirms as you scrub her back or how he blushes when you shampoo his scalp.
No Choice: Currently, you're unable to clean yourself up. That means that you need assistance, and it might as well be the person you lov- tolerate the most.
Open: You have trust issues. Actually, you have backlogs of trust issues. Still, you want to show the person you love that you're willing and trying to change for them, and what better way than letting down your walls and having the assist in your grooming?
Shave: Whether it's your face, your legs, or...your other places you've decided to shave, there's a certain intimacy involved in letting your lover do it for you. Let's hope they won't leave you looking like you got into a battle with a book with the paper cuts to prove it.
Reluctant: They want to get you clean. You don't want to show off your body at all. It's injured, it looks weird, what if they don't like it...
Forced: You love them, you really do, but you won't kiss them if they continue to look like an unwashed hobo clown. You have to draw the line somewhere, and if they won't take action, you will.
Beat Up: You've been trampled in a fight. Your partner isn't about to let you wallow around in your own mud and blood.
Hair: Some find that there's nothing quite as soothing as getting their hair washed or brushed. Of course, those with more luxurious locks may find any hair care a burden, so the assistance is appreciated.
Make Up: They think you're beautiful already. See how they'll paint you up when they get the chance.
Unique: If you're not human, you probably have your own proceeders you have to do to keep all spiffied up. There are wings with stray feathers to pluck, horns on heads to polish, scales to shave down, all sorts of tasks! Introduce your ignorant (and most likely human) boyfriend or girlfriend to your world...and your pain.
Accommodations: Those with disabilities or prosthetics may also have their own routines, and anyone who wants to be with them should learn how to pitch in.
Sponge Bath: You don't have enough water to do this right or you just want to give them a nice rub and scrub with a gentle sponge or wash cloth.
Wound Care: In order for wounds to heal, proper care must be taken. Bandages have to be changed and cuts cleaned out. It's certainly easier when you don't have to do it all by yourself.
Together: You're both cleaning up, taking a bath, splish splash, in the same tub because there's no where else to go. This is the most likely smut option, even if, again, it starts off "platonic."
Clothing: Don't forget that clean clothes are an important part of personal hygiene. Always make sure your partner has a nice, fresh outfit, even if it's to your taste and not theirs.
I've Made a Terrible Mistake: Somehow, everything's now shit. This little experiment went haywire and you may be sporting anything from the worst hairdo of your life to a Columbian necktie.
FREE SPACE

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[ (sorry for the wait! i winged this and made this kind of vague in terms of timeline, but let me know if this doesn't work for you and i can edit!)

it's a late night, or perhaps more accurately, a very early morning when diluc trudges back home after clearing out another temple. what should have been a straight forward mission got a little dicey in the middle—it's no secret that diluc prefers to work alone, and relearning teamwork is something that unfortunately takes more than one temple run to master. but they'd made it out, which is the main takeaway in the end.

so, pro: he is home and had the foresight to draw a bath earlier before heading out. con: he is home with kaeya and there is only one bathtub in his stupidly large manor. go figure. their history aside, diluc isn't as heartless as he tries to make himself out to be (not since that fateful night, anyway), and kaeya looked about as worn down as he did by the time they made it back to town. it's easier this way, he tells himself. it's not as if they hadn't shared a bath before, anyway. this isn't a big deal. ]

Second floor, first door on your right. [ perhaps kaeya didn't need the reminder, but well. it's been some time since he was last here, hasn't it? ] I'll get a change of clothes.

[ As far as missions go, he's delighted with the way this one's turned out. Oh, sure, it's been an utter mess, with Diluc and him clashing more often than not; it turns out that fire and ice do not mix as well as he might have hoped, or perhaps it's just that he's used to the camaraderie whereas Diluc is still too trained in his stubborn ways, and that claymore has come far too close to singing his poor hair too many times in the temple; but still. A good mood, because they're together--a good mood, because Diluc hasn't strangled him yet, and even had the kindness to offer him back to the manor, though it's not somewhere he's exactly keen to return to.

He's still smiling, even as they head inside, and smiling still, as he realizes precisely the predicament they've found themselves in. One bath? It turns out the gods do have some keen sense of humor. ]

And I'll get to changing. You don't have to knock when you come in, I have very little shame.

[ A tease--and he's already ducking inside the bathroom so as not to get a fist to his face, darting to shut the door quietly at his back. The bath is drawn, at least, already ready and kept warm in their absence, which means it's only down to him stripping out of his sullied clothes, a process which he takes slowly, discarding everything into a relatively neat pile. The mirror shows him the results of their hard work: a bit banged up, blood smeared from a cut on his cheek, and a few bruises on his sides, but everything else is intact, and his eyepatch, too, stays resolutely on. He imagines Diluc would rather take his time than barge in--so he moves, gingerly, to the bath, bracing his hands against it to sink down beneath the water. ]

[ you don’t have to knock when you come in, i have very little shame. for a moment, diluc is caught between the urge to hasten his footsteps and the urge to turn around and strangle kaeya. a curious feeling, really, embarrassment and annoyance on top of the swell of something he doesn’t want to identify—warm and honey-gold, smooth and bittersweet like the finely aged wine they keep in the cellar. it makes his scowl deepen, the back of his neck becoming uncomfortably warm as he finds himself in kaeya’s old room, unchanged and untouched. the maids keep everything clean, and diluc doesn’t need to think about it when he opens the dresser, finds a looser shirt and pants that kaeya used to sleep in.

he can’t decide how to feel about it. the initial feeling of discomfort of holding kaeya’s clothing in his arms, of knowing where kaeya is in his (their) house in this moment; it wars with the nostalgia of better days, gentler times. diluc had thought he’d mastered the art of repressing pesky things like emotions during the years he’d been away, but not quite as well as he’d thought, apparently.

but there’s no point in dwelling on it. diluc had made the first mistake by agreeing to go along to the temple, offering kaeya to recuperate at the manor afterwards only served to seal his fate. standing outside the bathroom door feels both trivial and oddly daunting, and diluc’s jaw clenches as if steeling himself, resolutely knocking three times before entering. yes, it’s his house; yes, kaeya told him not to knock, but when has diluc ever done anything anyone told him to do? it’s the principle of the matter. ]

Move over. [ his words are as brusque as they usually are, but his tone isn’t as harsh as it should be as he approaches the bath. perhaps it’s the blood on kaeya’s clothes he sees as he sets down their fresh clothing on the wooden stool in the corner, or the still healing cut on his cheek. diluc mentally catalogues the injuries kaeya had sustained in their battles—it’s nothing worse than what kaeya has sustained in the past, ones that he himself had inflicted on him, but… mm. ] If we’re to share, at least leave some room for me.

[ It takes longer than he expects, long enough that he wonders if Diluc has given up on it entirely--that perhaps he's put in a call to someone to have him hauled out of this house, dragged back along the paths to Dawn Winery and back to the city, and wouldn't that be delightful? Scrambling for his clothes, scrambling for any minute sense of dignity, dumped back into his office until the next day, where he might come around the tavern and tease Diluc for such inhospitality.

It's funny, in a way, how easily his views have changed: even though his room is still here, untouched and clean, he imagines, this is no longer his house, no longer has any attachment to it, like he's cleaved it all away with a knife. He thinks of this place as the home where Diluc spends lonely nights--both a blessing and a curse. He's not sure how to feel if those nights were quelled with actual company.

Eyes lidded, like he's nearly got them down entirely, he jerks them open at the knocking. So he's not to be tossed out after all? A miracle.

Even with the milky tint of the water, the oils and the fragrance and the faint scent of medicinal herbs, perfectly blended, there's plenty to be seen, and plenty that he wouldn't mind having seen, either. His hair is down, splattered around his shoulders, and it disappears down into the water as he leans forward, braces his hands to either side of the tub as though, almost playfully, to offer Diluc the space at his back. ]

Is that enough room? [ Almost cutely, though the glimmer of that one eye, the tilt of his head to peer up at Diluc is cunning and amused. ] Surely you can slip right in there, put your legs to either side of me.

[ And, judging by the way he continues to watch him, he's going to have to be told not to study Diluc as he undresses. ]

[ it would be expected of him, wouldn’t it? to have someone throw kaeya out just like he himself does at the end of the night when it’s closing time. he has more of an excuse then, but this time he’d brought it on himself, opening his home to kaeya when he’d drove him out all those years ago. the manor had always seemed larger, more cavernous afterwards; though he’s loathe to admit it, it’s partly why he’d left.

and in the end, he’d come back anyway. and now, here they are.

diluc’s frown deepens as he watches kaeya scoot forward, shedding his own clothes to set aside to be laundered later. whether kaeya studies him as he does so matters little, is what he tells himself, movements efficient and quick despite the simmer of embarrassment beneath his skin that has yet to completely leave him. no, he’s never had company over, no one but the maids and the cooks left to fill the silence. it feels both strange and familiar when he finally settles behind kaeya in the tub, his legs bracketing kaeya’s. this close, he can see the bruises along his sides, the cuts mixed in with older scars both faint and more recent. ]

Perhaps you should consider spending more time training than loitering around Angel’s Share. [ again, not as sharp as it should be as he leans forward to grab the bar of soap perched on the side. ] Or pay better attention next time.

[ there’s no sense in treating wounds before they’re properly cleaned, and it isn’t as if kaeya can reach his back at the moment, so diluc wets the bar and gets a nice lather going before setting soapy hands against kaeya’s skin. for all his life, diluc was never one to do things halfway; unfortunately (or fortunately), it would extend to this as well. ]

[ He expects the scolding, and so it slides off of him like water off a duck's back--or, in this case, like the soap that lathers up on his skin, done up not by a sponge or a washcloth but, surprisingly, by Diluc's hands themselves; there is a part of him that's grateful they aren't facing each other, just because he's uncertain what expression must have flickered across his features before disappearing again, what he must have looked like at the gentle touch of fingers he hasn't felt, without those gloves on, in a long time. The bruises hurt, but they're nothing that can't handle the touch--the cuts sting, but they're nothing that can't handle the suds. Ironically, the thing that he has trouble enduring is this kindness: mostly because he's liable to take advantage of it.

For now, he loops his arms around his own knees, sits, in an odd, underdeveloped silence, as Diluc soaps up his back, a soft breath past lips that he presses shut, and for a moment he can imagine that he belongs here--that this is how it always is, between them, that they've put aside their differences and that they'll fall into bed together and laugh at all the old stories that are too painful to tell, now. Diluc is far past that though, isn't he? He's moved on past everything, hardly even considers the past a thing worth dwelling on; and he himself has had to move past it too. Still--certain things linger, things like how he wants more, always wants more, than Diluc is willing to give. ]

Would you like to train with me? Surely the great hero of Mondstadt's night could spare me a few evenings of training.

[ It's a tease--and he knows that Diluc will refuse--as he sits up straight, rolls his shoulders back and then, with one hand, reaches behind for Diluc's wrist. He ends up catching his hand, instead, his soapy fingers, pulling and leading it forward, until he can plant it down on his own chest, down near the taut dip of his stomach. ]

Do a thorough job, Master Diluc. Front and back.

[ give kaeya an inch, and he'll take a mile. is that what it is? diluc is aware of the implications of this: the shared bath, washing kaeya's back, tending to his injuries—diluc makes stupid choices sometimes, but he's not that oblivious. he can't even pretend to ignore them, with how close they are currently. the only thing that keeps him going is his pride, that he does not go back on his word, and the dreadful knowledge of the fact that if kaeya would have fallen in that temple... well. it's not something he wants to think about. odd, how he'd been prepared to strike kaeya down just a few years ago. and he would have succeeded, perhaps, if kaeya had not received his vision that same night.

time had done its share, dulling the anger and the pain until he'd convinced himself that he'd moved on past everything. and yet he's still here, in their childhood home, sharing a tub like they'd used to. has he truly moved on, then? was it really that simple? ]

As if my presence there would make a difference. [ he knows kaeya— ] You'd just be a distraction.

[ to diluc and himself. like now, how he grabs diluc's hand and pulls it forward, and diluc is unprepared for the momentum to press him up against kaeya's back, his palm sliding down kaeya's chest. he stiffens up and pulls his hand free, thankful that kaeya isn't facing him to see the incriminating redness in his cheeks. ]

Did I say I was done?

[ it's a grumble, low and exasperated as he grabs the soap again, getting a lather going before returning his hands to kaeya's chest. now that kaeya has decided to call him out, diluc has no choice but to follow through, smoothing soapy fingers over the dips and planes of muscle. ]

[ A distraction: that's certainly one way to put it. It's the kinder way, because he had been thinking himself that it's more desperation that makes the offer, rather than anything else. It's part of why he's constantly sitting at the counter in the Angel's Share, hoping against hope that it will be Diluc there again for another night, annoyed at having to serve him but doing it all the same. He wants to see him, wants the barest thread of their severed connection to hang on; he clings to those tattered ends, hoping that if he continues to pull on them, that they won't just snap and break. It's the risk he takes, too, when he pulls at Diluc's hand--but he's won the coin toss, for this one.

Diluc's hands, both of them, go down his chest; he's encircled in the strength of his arms, and for one moment, even he isn't sure what to do. A breath catches, there and then gone again, but his lips curl up into a smile like it's a shield, his automatic protection against showing anything too much, or too little. ]

It's not so bad, is it? [ His voice sounds like he's marveling over it himself--mostly for Diluc's benefit, as he fits against his chest, as he tilts his head until it hits the solid shape of Diluc's shoulder, firm and muscled. His own hands move, a whisper against the back of Diluc's arms, dipping down to shadow his hands. ] Being like this.

[ Another smile--it's hard to gauge Diluc's expression when he's like this, pliant against his chest, but he's not imagining that blush, now is he? ]

One might even say I've wanted it, in the sense that I've long forgotten what your hands feel like.

[ it would not be difficult to send kaeya away from angel's share. he'd sent him out of his life once before, after all. he could do it again. if he really didn't want to see kaeya at the tavern again, it would not take very much to make it so. and yet, he lets kaeya in every night, serves him drinks like he would with any other customer. he lets kaeya stay until closing, until they're the only two people left before he sends him home, watching him make his way down the road until he can't see him anymore. they do this song and dance every night and diluc doesn't like to analyze it. he'd severed their connection years ago; he'd created that rift between them and left it to rot, and sometimes he finds himself wanting to bridge it against his better judgement.

there is no excuse. he shouldn't be in this bath with kaeya, touching him like he would if they'd still remained as close as they did before. he should move away, reestablish the distance he'd made. but kaeya leans back against him, tilts his head to rest against his shoulder and diluc's hands stutter to a stop, his skin tingling where kaeya's hands brush down along his own. ]

I can't imagine why you'd want to remember something like that. [ diluc's voice is miraculously more even than he feels, and he's given up willing his blush away as his hands move again. he spreads his fingers along kaeya's skin, slides them over and down his sides, mindful of where his injuries are. ] Don't tell me you'd planned this from the start.

[ coming along on their expedition, getting hurt; coming back here with diluc so he could clean him up. diluc might know kaeya, but not like he used to. it's harder to read him now, harder to see through the smile he wears like a mask. in spite of everything, a part of him wishes he still could. ]

From the start? Of course not.

[ He's wily, yes, and utterly manipulative at times, but--this is too much the perfect storm for it to have been orchestrated from the beginning. There's no way that he would have been able to assure that he would get injured enough to be invited back to the manor, for one, and any attempts to do so on purpose likely would have garnered Diluc's suspicions anyway, and would have left him out in the cold. No, this is just a flurry of perfect mistakes, blended together into something that he can, as always, use to his advantage. Even as Diluc accuses him of it, his hands still move with a gentleness that betrays any frustration or irritation he might be feeling; he doesn't hate it, as much as he like to pretend to.

Now that isn't something that he's planned on having from the start, either--he figured he would have to warm Diluc up to the idea again, to push boundaries until they finally snapped and broke, like a dam holding back tons of water. So to say that he's going to use it to his advantage, now? That's a fair assessment. That's just natural. ]

But from the moment you got into the bath? Of course. [ A small curve of a smile. ] Is it so wrong if I've missed you?

[ It's an admission he makes loftily, as though no matter what Diluc says, he'll manage to be able to pull something off to protect himself; if it's rejected, he can laugh it off, at least, but if Diluc agrees--well, that would be just far too many good things falling into his lap at once, wouldn't it? Idly, his fingers shadow over Diluc's knuckles, almost like he's going to lace his own in between--but mostly it's just so that he can take one hand and guide it, carefully, further south, over the splotch of one furious purple bruise near the curve of his hip. ]

[ he doesn’t hate it, as much as he tries to pretend that this is another inconvenience he has to deal with. and perhaps kaeya didn’t plan to get injured in this way from the start, but these cuts and bruises could have been avoided—he doesn’t like the strange clawing feeling in his stomach that grows the longer he sits in this bath; doesn’t like the sensation of his calloused fingers sliding along smooth skin, dulled only by the barrier of soap. everything was so simple before: diluc had his boundaries and kaeya would bush at them time and again, but this time, he’d let him in himself. the song has changed and he feels unsteady, unable to find his steps again.

he’s silent to kaeya’s admission, if only because even he isn’t sure of how he feels. time has done its share of dulling the pain; he’s reflected on that night more times that he’d like to admit. and though he’s stubborn, though he’s convinced himself that he’s moved on, the fact of the matter is that he hasn’t. not completely. but one single night of a shared bath, of a rare kindness, is not enough to bridge the distance between them as much as a part of him wishes it could.

kaeya’s hand pulls his further down and diluc clicks his tongue, frown deepening again despite his lack of resistance. he can see the dark bruise against his skin even through the milky bath water, and his soapy fingers dig in just slightly into the tender skin. ]

I invited you here, didn’t I? [ his thumb traces over the bruise and the curve of his hip, his palm following that path afterward as if to soothe the sting of his fingers. ] Was that not enough.

[ the thing is, he doesn’t know if that question was meant for kaeya alone or himself as well. ]

Is it ever enough?

[ A question that might not even be directed to Diluc, necessarily--it's something that he feels he has to ask himself, at times, as if he can never really see the line. He's always pushing it, always trying to go past where he thinks the boundary is, and most of the time, it works out for him. Most of the time, it's fine: and if it ends in a fight, well, there's no trouble in that, is there? Except that Diluc is here, tracing over bruises like they matter; except that Diluc is here, and he's something more special than a person that's only good to him for as much as their intel is.

He's not going to push up against a wall. He knows that much, at least, which is why, after the guidance, his hand is light, fingertips that walk over Diluc's knuckles but leave his palm to move as it pleases. If he wants to sock him in the stomach, so be it--if he wants to go down further, beneath the surface of the water to touch along his pelvis or down his thigh, so be it. If Diluc wants to pick apart old wounds or sit stiffly behind him, so be that, too. And maybe that's what he means, by enough: it's enough to just be near him, he decides, and he's pushed far enough.

The weight of his head leans into Diluc's shoulder, letting out a breath; his eyes close, though only the one can be seen. ]

Did you miss me? [ And if it sounds a little vulnerable, if he's called on it, he'll just laugh it off. ]

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Intimate personal care

kaeya | genshin impact | ota

15/16-ish

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a week later... im gomen

no worries at all!

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