[ Ian's not wrong; it had been obvious they were meant to share it. But Mace had figured it would sound ridiculous if he'd tried to explain that one kiss — not the sex, not even the charged moment before it, but a single meeting of mouths — had been enough to refresh him. Or — not ridiculous, maybe, but it would've been too much.
He'll have a few bites before they turn in, he’s not too fussed. If he gets another kiss before they sleep, he won’t need that either.
Much like the rest of the cabin, the interior of the bathroom is heavy with dust, including the shower area. Stepping inside, Mace wrinkles his nose and promptly sets about washing everything he can with a military precision. Luckily, it’s an old-fashioned bathroom, with a center drain in the tile below rather than something modern and harder to clean.
Admittedly, he wouldn’t have bothered if it was just him, or if Ian was almost anyone else. But the thought of somebody he’d held, somebody he'd kissed, somebody he’d slept with, bathing in filth is frankly unacceptable to Mace. So by the time Ian enters the bathroom it’s gleaming, with a billowing cloud of steam welcoming him in and Mace at the shower, naked and placing various bottles along the side ledge.
His hair is already soaked and plastered to his face, and when he glances over his shoulder at Ian, he has to wipe it out of his eyes. Knows how he looks — like a wet shaggy dog, maybe, and there’s a bit of a grin on his face as he speaks. ]
Careful not to slip. The door off to the side goes to the laundry — we've got some pretty thoughtful hosts.
[ A pause, and then idly, holding out a hand for Ian: ] Y'know, for murderers.
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He'll have a few bites before they turn in, he’s not too fussed. If he gets another kiss before they sleep, he won’t need that either.
Much like the rest of the cabin, the interior of the bathroom is heavy with dust, including the shower area. Stepping inside, Mace wrinkles his nose and promptly sets about washing everything he can with a military precision. Luckily, it’s an old-fashioned bathroom, with a center drain in the tile below rather than something modern and harder to clean.
Admittedly, he wouldn’t have bothered if it was just him, or if Ian was almost anyone else. But the thought of somebody he’d held, somebody he'd kissed, somebody he’d slept with, bathing in filth is frankly unacceptable to Mace. So by the time Ian enters the bathroom it’s gleaming, with a billowing cloud of steam welcoming him in and Mace at the shower, naked and placing various bottles along the side ledge.
His hair is already soaked and plastered to his face, and when he glances over his shoulder at Ian, he has to wipe it out of his eyes. Knows how he looks — like a wet shaggy dog, maybe, and there’s a bit of a grin on his face as he speaks. ]
Careful not to slip. The door off to the side goes to the laundry — we've got some pretty thoughtful hosts.
[ A pause, and then idly, holding out a hand for Ian: ] Y'know, for murderers.