Unmaking Percy

Part II - IV, continued (The Hushing Manor)

Percy stared.

"You... you want to wash me?" 

"I really think you might need some help getting rid of that mud. That reason is easy to explain. And then... the other reason is harder, but I'll try. My mind's been racing since we ran from the city. I'm just a thought away from panic. I know myself, and I know how to stop it. I just need a task to focus on, to steady my mind. But I can't put my heart into something that doesn't really need doing."

"And I need washing."

"But I can easily find something else" Evans added in a hurry. "I think there's a hole in my socks that needs mending."

Percy was locked in place. So focused had he been on avoiding having to serve, that he now found no way to avoid being served himself. His hesitation sent Evans into a restlessness that Percy had never seen in him.

"I meant it when I said you were free to refuse, I don't want you to..."

"No – that is, yes, you can wash me if you'd like. It would be nice to have help getting this mud off me, honestly."

He tried to lighten his words. It was like trying to float a boulder.

Gestures that he usually never granted a single thought to now queued in his mind, demanding attention. Where should he undress? By the bathtub? There was nowhere to leave his clothes, and it seemed callous to discard them on the floor, as though he expected Evans to pick them up. He could leave them on the chair by the window. But to walk stark naked from there to the bathtub would be a long and arduous pilgrimage. And what would he put on once he was out of the bath? He should grab the single clean tunic he had left, keep it by the tub. And if he sat just so, in that angle right there, he might manage to show little more than his bare back. Yes, he was beginning to see how he would do it. His hands fretted as they undid laces, buttons, clasps. Behind him, Evans waited with his undemanding patience.

As soon as he rid himself of his last piece of clothing, he barely allowed the warmth of the room to wrap around his body before he tripped into the tub. He was in such a frantic hurry that he was caught off guard by the feeling of the hot water melting like gold over his skin. A little moan escaped him, and he pretended to scratch his forehead to hide his face. That sound alone had been a hundred times worse than standing exposed in the room for the entire night.

He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his legs, tucking his chin between his chest and his knees. He was facing the crackling heat of the fireplace, and had his back turned to Evans. He heard him rummage in the chest of soaps and ointments. Already the dirt that clung to Percy started to cloud the bath water. The rain chattered at the window; the heat of the bath soothed his muscles and coaxed them into rest. He could feel his body relaxing, and he resented it for that.

And now he heard Evans kneeling behind him. He saw Evans' arm reach into the water and dip a sponge. A moment later, a single drop of water fell on the nape of Percy's neck. He waited for more to come, but none did. The drop lingered, then slowly began to leave a silken trace down his back. It sent a mad shudder through him. He could not understand why a single drop consumed him and led him into drunkenness, when almost all of his body was submerged. It traced a tormenting touch past his neck, between his shoulder-blades, along his spine. Beside him, Evans looked on, his eyes following the drop down Percy's back. Percy felt enthralled in that focus. He tried to snap away from it, swim to shore, cling to wakefulness.

"Are... you waiting for something?" he asked. He knew steam could not muffle his voice, but it sounded to him like it had.

"No, not waiting. I'm watching how the water moves on your skin, to know how to wash you."