Summary: A Krycek vignette
Pairing: Sk/K
Series: Second in the Introspectives (Sequel to When He Sleeps)
Warnings(for if there is sex or not): None. Although, you could probably pick the song I almost wrote this to, just from the title =P

Authors Note: Since minotaurs wrote about 'identifying' with one character, I thought I'd go ahead and write a story where you can. And also, being somewhat inspired by Brook Henson's fantastic series, The Guide's Guide, it's in Second Person Perspective. So. Ha. You can't help but identify with the character =P

You have always enjoyed bathing. It’s not surprising really, with the often lack of opportunity apparent when on the job. It’s irritating to be so fastidious, but you’ve always been a neat person. Dirt irritates you, but you can ignore it. At least until the current business is taken care of. And bathing has always just seemed nice.

The water gushes into the large tub and your eye wanders over the selection of bath oils and scents. Walt has often teased you about the sheer range of different bath accessories you’ve accumulated, but you know for a fact that he takes advantage of them when he thinks you’re not looking. Forgoing the bubbles, your aching muscles suggest the Epsom salts and you liberally sprinkle them into the slowly filling tub. A few drops of vanilla bath oil, and the scented steam gradually fills the bathroom.

You carefully lower yourself into the steaming water. It’s at a heat that is only just bearable, to the point of scalding, and you feel the warmth melt into your tired bones. Your breath hitches slightly as you drop too quickly, but soon you release it in a satisfied hiss as your chin touches the surface and you lean back into the hard porcelain. Half a decade ago, you would have killed for a tub this size, having had to make do with hotel tubs that barely fit your frame with your legs bent, knees exposed to the cooler air.

You’re in a half doze as the heat works its way through your muscles, slowly relaxing, untwisting. Your gaze falls on the basket filled with bath items and a vague thought crosses your mind. Something’s missing. Memories flash back, like old Polaroids to a much younger time, and you smile softly to yourself in remembrance. A rubber duckie would be a fine addition to the basket. Maybe one in a black leather jacket since it’s not all about the past.

An errant breeze twists the steam into chaotic eddies, tangled and ethereal. You can feel the cooler air on the back of your neck, the slightly damp hair losing heat, as the door opens slowly. You look up as Walter enters the bathroom, tie askew, and shirt half unbuttoned, and smile lazily at him, drops of water echoing through the tiled room as you raise your arm out from the still heated liquid in greeting. He’s smiling now, a kind of ‘knew you’d be in here’ sort of smile.

He’s turned the radio on in the bedroom, just loud enough to be heard through the door. It’s some soft jazzy station, the singer crooning words, just under the threshold of comprehension. You watch as he slowly disrobes, laying his clothes neatly on the vanity, before stepping up to the tub. You smile softly at him, and wordlessly shift forward in the tub, the still hot water lapping at the edge as the waves travel. Walter moves in behind you, stretching his legs on either side of your body, and you move to accommodate him, before leaning back into his embrace.

You can almost sense the exact moment when the heat of the water penetrates his weary body, as the muscles under you relax as he releases a deep sigh that ruffles your hair. He moves his arms under the water to pull you into a loose hug, before entwining your hand with his and leaning back. You can feel the rasp of the hair on his chest against your back as you squirm slightly to get more comfortable before settling back against his wide chest and tightening his arms about you.

He drops his head until he’s nuzzling at the junction of your neck and shoulder, breathing in the gently scented steam, and you tilt your head, rubbing the side of his face with your cheek before tipping your head back onto his shoulder to gaze up at the ceiling as he brings his tongue into play, lapping at your skin. You can feel his lips move as he smiles into your neck before cuddling you closer and just breathing with you. Nothing needs to be said, as you both float in steamy waters, set adrift from the reality outside. This sense of peace is often hard sought, but for now, it’s a precious resource that you’re awfully fond of.

You reconsider. Perhaps two duckies are required. One with specs.

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