“I’m going to ignore that and focus on your compliments,” I say cheerfully and rub his scalp, dragging my nails lightly along his head to get the worst of the grit free.
He tenses and sucks in a breath.
I go still. “Bad? Should I stop?”
“No. Do it again.” His voice is low. “I liked it.”
And he’s not good at realizing that he likes things. I wonder about him. What’s he like when he’s the Voltron version of himself, all recombined with all the other facets of his existence? Is he like this but just more? Or is he completely different? I massage his scalp and think about his penis again. “Just so you know, this isn’t sexual.”
“I didn’t say it was.” His tone is accusing. “I wouldn’t fuck my Anchor. That’d be like…fucking my backpack. You exist to provide a service, nothing more.”
“Wow. Just…wow.” I lift my hands free. “You know what? You can finish washing yourself. I’m good here.”
Before I can back away, he grabs my wet, soapy hand and glares up at me. “No. You continue.”
“Or what?” I bristle.
“Or I’ll give you a pox.”
Of all the…I forget all about being cheerful and point a finger at his face. “You’re a fucking dick and that’snotthe way to getwhat you want.”
He bares his teeth at me. “You don’t like it when I’m truthful?”
“I don’t like it when you’re hurtful,” I retort, getting in his face. “There’s no need to be an asshole. We’re in this together, remember? I don’t have a way home. I gave upeverythingto be here…”
My voice trembles and I stop, because I don’t want to cry. Not when he’s being, well, himself. Crying won’t solve anything. It just makes me weak.
“Fine.Pleasecontinue servicing me.”
I regret ever thinking his dick was pretty. I regret ever being nice to him. For a moment, I regret saying yes to Lachesis when she came to me with her bargain. But then I imagine David with his degree. David as a doctor. David with a family.
With a heavy sigh of my own, I put my hands in his thick hair again and continue washing it.
“Rub like you did before,” he demands.
“No. I’m still mad at you. I’ll help you wash but I’m not doing things you like if you can’t even be civil to me. Fucking rude. I’m not a shoe.”
“Fine. You’re like…the goat.”
That makes me pause. “You like the goat.”
“Yes. He’s charming in his ignorance. I like that he is always happy. That nothing seems to make him miserable. And yet…he still irritates me. He smells and prances about far too much. He shits everywhere. He tries to eat my clothing.”
And in his eyes, I’m like the goat. Am I offended by that? I have to consider for a hot moment. I guess a human would seem like they’re eating and shitting everywhere, compared to a god that does neither. “I’ve never tried to eat your clothing.”
He huffs. “Not yet.”
That earns him a wry snort of amusement. “You’re still an ass, for the record.”
“And yet we are still bound together,” he agrees. “Stuck with one another, as I believe you said once.”
Yeah, I probably did. I scratch his scalp a little—just enough that he won’t bitch about it—and pull back. “Close your eyes so I can rinse your hair out.”
It takes two rounds of hair washing and me making another trip out to the well in the darkness before I’m satisfied that his hair is clean. All those silver locks are dense. It’s a terrible tangle, too. I pile it atop his head and scrub his back, calling out instructions so he can bathe himself in the future. I give the rest of him a quick once-over (except for the groin, because fuck all that) and pull out the last clean blanket so he can wrap himself in it.
Once he’s out of the water, I dump our dirty clothes in it. I’ll have to rinse them a couple of times with more water, but for now a little soaking can’t hurt. “Come sit by the fire and I’ll comb your hair for you,” I say to Kalos. “Once we’re dry and clean and the laundry is wrung out, we should probably go.”
“If you’re worried about rot, I can probably do something about that,” he says mildly, but moves to sit by the fire.
