7 | Shower

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"I can't help but want you, help but love you. Help me, someone, erase my heart. I've been broken in two, how'd you get in here? Now you're something that I just can't resist."

~ Kelly Clarkston, Chemistry

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They had just finished up dinner and Sophie was cleaning up for the night. She liked having all her dishes loaded in the dishwasher, her table and countertop cleaned and cleared off before the night was over. While she focused on the dishes, Cillian spotted the rag she was about to use and took it.

She looked over her shoulder to find him scrubbing down the blood from his dinner that remained on her kitchen table. After that, he wiped down the countertops with a different rag.

She placed the last dish in the washer and turned to face him. His dark curls seemed weighed down and oily, making her wonder if he used the shower yet. He had a bathroom connected to his room, open for him to use whenever he'd like. Then she remembered how often he had to be told to do things. Maybe this was one of them.

"Would you like to shower?"

He blinked, thrown off by the question. He only was forced to take those after a mission when he got really dirty. He had just taken a shower before he got here and hadn't done anything to get dirty. Maybe he did something wrong?

"I can show you where it is if you'd like." She offered when she didn't get a response.

If he'd like... why would he like that? Nevertheless, he didn't have much of a choice. He never did. He followed her from a few steps behind, into the bathroom.

From the doorway he watched her head towards... a tiled section of the room. There was a little ledge to step over into the area. He expected her to lead him someplace less pleasant then this, like the basement or outside.

"I ordered some men's shampoo and body wash for you. I figured you'd like it more then my shampoo." She chuckled to herself, showing him the bottles. "Towels are in the cabinet, wash cloths too. With the shower, use this knob to control the temperature. The farther left you go, the hotter it gets."

She turned to face him and her heart sunk. This was the most expression he's shown this far and she wasn't sure what she said wrong.

He stood there, large arms crossed in front of his firm chest, not to intimidate, but rather to protect himself, anxiously shifting his weight from foot to foot. His eyebrows were pinched with concern, his jaw clenched horribly tight, and his eyes looked pleading... frightful, even. All of these things were slight, but noticeable to her.

Hesitantly, she asked, "everything okay?"

Her questions sounded muffled to him, his own frantic heartbeat becoming too loud to hear her properly over. With careful movements, he tugged his shirt off his body.

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