#to be fair this is one of kiv's gentler outcomes for Midnight skdhdhrj

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Augusnippets, Day Two: Platonic Bathing

cw: referenced torture, nonsexual nudity, implied fear of noncon

for the @augusnippets challenge // word count: 448

=~=~=

His hair is filthy.

There's plenty more wrong; the layered bruises, the poorly healed wounds, the infected gashes he had to scrub out as Kiv screamed, but there's nothing left for those but time. Sahota doesn't have a med pod or cell patches, but the apartment they're holed up in has a full-sized tub, and hell knows Kiv could use a bath.

The bigger man is able to stand, which makes getting to the bathroom easy enough, but there's a distance in his eyes. He's not fully present. Sahota is almost thankful for that. Without the sharp awareness, he looks a lot less like Vic.

He helps him sit on the lid of the toilet while he starts the water, running the hand under the flow to make sure the temperature will be comfortable.

“I'm going to take off your clothes, okay?”

Kiv was wearing what could only be described as rags when he found him, but he still panicked when Sahota tried to cut them away and get a look at his injuries, begging him to leave him alone, to not touch him. He wore a few weeks’ stubble, and seeing a face that looked so much like Vic’s so distressed was jarring. Almost stopped him in his tracks, almost made him turn and run. But he'd managed to ground himself. Not Vic, just his clone. Just Kiv, who took every opportunity to take out his own pain on Sahota. Maybe he should've left him there, maybe it was healthier. But if he did, who else would help? Kiv had no one.

Kiv didn't say anything as Sahota stripped him, meekly allowing himself to be helped into the bath. He let out a soft exhale as the warmth hit his body, just that brief contact enough to turn the water a dingy color. Fine, he'd just drain it after the first layer of grime was gone. He grabbed a washrag off the counter and wet it, then set to work cleaning Kiv's back, careful to be gentle when crossing the worst of his wounds. The bigger man was silent throughout, sitting still even as Sahota drained the tub and refilled it.

Without other tools at hand, he used a crumpled water bottle to pour hot water over his scalp, soaping and rinsing his hair, getting out all the grime.

Kiv was back on the sofa, wrapped in a towel, by the time he finally spoke.

“Got a razor?” His voice was small and hoarse.

“Hm?”

Kiv grazed his chin with a bandaged finger. “I can't…" His voice trailed off. He finished the thought with shaky words, nearly silent.

"I don't wanna look like him.”

Sahota understood.