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He’s home at the usual time, which is an hour that sees no sensible people meandering the streets, but tonight he does not go upstairs.
To go upstairs would mean leaving a trail behind him, all over Jill’s nice floors. Better to smear the basement stairs with the sludge that still clings to his feet, even with his boots discarded on the back step. Better not leave a trail of blood droplets up the stairs, or treat his wife to the rank odour following him around. He thinks longingly of bed, but better to rinse himself of sewage in the laundry sink than sully their fine bath towels.
He blinks against the light of the laundry room, and he looks down at the gash in his leather trousers, and the bleeding mess visible within it. Not the worst, but unpleasant nonetheless. The mundanity of the room feels at sharp contrast with the adrenaline still coursing through him. He sighs. Why is cleaning up never a thrilling as sticking his sword through a monster’s sinuses?
Jill will find him eventually, he’s sure. He’s just sorry she’ll have to smell him, too.
To go upstairs would mean leaving a trail behind him, all over Jill’s nice floors. Better to smear the basement stairs with the sludge that still clings to his feet, even with his boots discarded on the back step. Better not leave a trail of blood droplets up the stairs, or treat his wife to the rank odour following him around. He thinks longingly of bed, but better to rinse himself of sewage in the laundry sink than sully their fine bath towels.
He blinks against the light of the laundry room, and he looks down at the gash in his leather trousers, and the bleeding mess visible within it. Not the worst, but unpleasant nonetheless. The mundanity of the room feels at sharp contrast with the adrenaline still coursing through him. He sighs. Why is cleaning up never a thrilling as sticking his sword through a monster’s sinuses?
Jill will find him eventually, he’s sure. He’s just sorry she’ll have to smell him, too.
She never sleeps deeply unless Clive is beside her. She usually stirs despite his best efforts to move quietly, able to hear the click of the door and the creak of the floorboards in the bottom of the house as if she were there herself. It's routine, and while Clive sometimes meanders before heading upstairs, she knows he'll come up eventually. It's when she thinks she hears him move towards the basement that she pushes herself upright.
Quiet so as to not wake Joshua, Jill slips out of the bedroom and heads down the stairs, then down the next set to the basement.
It smells ripe.
"Clive?" Jill calls, end of his name muffled as she rubs her nose. "Are you what smells?"
She hopes the smell is the worst of it.
Quiet so as to not wake Joshua, Jill slips out of the bedroom and heads down the stairs, then down the next set to the basement.
It smells ripe.
"Clive?" Jill calls, end of his name muffled as she rubs her nose. "Are you what smells?"
She hopes the smell is the worst of it.
There she is. By time she appears on her way down the stairs, Clive is about to put his head in the sink and under the faucet. He hesitates, looking her way.
“Careful where you step,” he warns her. “I’ve left a mess.”
Tarry black muck has followed his footsteps all down the stairs. Clive himself is plastered in it head to toe; his appearance is enough of an answer, he thinks.
“The last monster had some… unique features.”
“Careful where you step,” he warns her. “I’ve left a mess.”
Tarry black muck has followed his footsteps all down the stairs. Clive himself is plastered in it head to toe; his appearance is enough of an answer, he thinks.
“The last monster had some… unique features.”
Jill stares at him for a moment, still, and then bursts into laughter. She clamps her hands over her mouth to quiet down.
"You're worse than Torgal after he's rolled on a carcass," she says, and he's truly disgusting between the muck and stench. "Perhaps we should hose you off outside."
Like Torgal.
Then, her sense kicks in enough to ask, "Are you hurt at all?"
"You're worse than Torgal after he's rolled on a carcass," she says, and he's truly disgusting between the muck and stench. "Perhaps we should hose you off outside."
Like Torgal.
Then, her sense kicks in enough to ask, "Are you hurt at all?"
Edited 2025-05-02 14:33 (UTC)
He can't help but smile when she laughs, though his eyes turn back to the sink. He strips off his gloves, dropping them into the basin.
"You'll be pleased to know I kept Torgal from doing just that, then," he says, shaking his head. A few droplets fly. "I've got a good bleeder on my thigh but otherwise, just bumps and bruises. I can manage it, if you want to spare yourself."
"You'll be pleased to know I kept Torgal from doing just that, then," he says, shaking his head. A few droplets fly. "I've got a good bleeder on my thigh but otherwise, just bumps and bruises. I can manage it, if you want to spare yourself."
Jill chuckles, stepping closer. When does she ever let him manage on his own when she can help?
"You'll be clean sooner with an extra pair of hands," she tells him. She considers getting gloves for herself, then figures they're both going to need to bathe anyway, so no point in bothering.
She only makes a little bit of a face when reaching for his belt.
Gross.
"You'll be clean sooner with an extra pair of hands," she tells him. She considers getting gloves for herself, then figures they're both going to need to bathe anyway, so no point in bothering.
She only makes a little bit of a face when reaching for his belt.
Gross.
His Jill, always so devoted, even in the face of having to scrub the stench from her own skin. He breathes out, grateful, but he still reaches to put a filthy hand over hers, staying her.
"One more thing, Jill," he says. He looks at her. More specifically, he looks at her cleavage before he looks at her face. "The monster had some... ah, effects..."
"One more thing, Jill," he says. He looks at her. More specifically, he looks at her cleavage before he looks at her face. "The monster had some... ah, effects..."
How to explain? He pauses momentarily, just looking at her face, and he feels a surge of embarrassment that would kill him if he wasn't so distracted by his own messy stench.
"Effects," he repeats, delicately. "Like that one night."
The edges of it are expanding.
"Effects," he repeats, delicately. "Like that one night."
The edges of it are expanding.
It's all he needs to say for Jill's eyes to widen in understanding.
"Oh," she says, pulling her hands back. He had been upset, after. She doesn't want that again. "I'm--I want to help you, Clive, but I don't want you to do anything that will make you feel bad later."
No matter how willing she is. She gives him a small smile, knowing his good nature will make him fret that she's now somehow upset. She's not. All she ever has is patience and understanding for him.
And now he knows how she feels whenever she's around him on an average day.
"What shall we do with you?"
"Oh," she says, pulling her hands back. He had been upset, after. She doesn't want that again. "I'm--I want to help you, Clive, but I don't want you to do anything that will make you feel bad later."
No matter how willing she is. She gives him a small smile, knowing his good nature will make him fret that she's now somehow upset. She's not. All she ever has is patience and understanding for him.
And now he knows how she feels whenever she's around him on an average day.
"What shall we do with you?"
Clive smiles, easier, no matter how pink he feels around the ears.
"Oh, no," he says, in return, hand following hers briefly but letting her go. "I'd very much like to make love to you the minute my presence is not offensive, my lady. If... such a thing is possible, of course."
He may reek for days.
"Oh, no," he says, in return, hand following hers briefly but letting her go. "I'd very much like to make love to you the minute my presence is not offensive, my lady. If... such a thing is possible, of course."
He may reek for days.
Even if he were a deep shade of red, Jill wouldn't be able to tell under the muck.
She laughs, relieved.
"I can hold my breath," she says, and does just that as she reaches for his belt once more. "Nothing some hot water, soap, and a brush can't fix."
... right?
She laughs, relieved.
"I can hold my breath," she says, and does just that as she reaches for his belt once more. "Nothing some hot water, soap, and a brush can't fix."
... right?
He turns his body more towards her to she can help, and as he shifts, the slash up the outside of his thigh oozes out a fresh trickle of blood. He doesn't seem to notice.
"I'm fine with the hose, if it's easier," he says, a low tease, and he starts unbuckling his arm armour one-handed.
"I'm fine with the hose, if it's easier," he says, a low tease, and he starts unbuckling his arm armour one-handed.
He drops a piece of armour into the sink with a wet thunk and then lets her go at the rest. He looks down at her, willing himself to keep his head about him longer, but he knows it'll be increasingly difficult from this angle.
"I confess I was entirely in its mouth for a moment," he says.
"I confess I was entirely in its mouth for a moment," he says.
Even like this, she wants to kiss him.
Well, really, she would like to see him clean--especially around that cut on his thigh--but all things in time. She adds to the growing like of armor until he's down to leather.
"I'm both alarmed and unsurprised," she says with a scrunch of her nose. "I'm glad you made it back to me whole. Even if you smell like... oh, I can't even describe."
Well, really, she would like to see him clean--especially around that cut on his thigh--but all things in time. She adds to the growing like of armor until he's down to leather.
"I'm both alarmed and unsurprised," she says with a scrunch of her nose. "I'm glad you made it back to me whole. Even if you smell like... oh, I can't even describe."
"I believe it's supposed to deter other creatures from entering its nest," he says, leaning against the sink slightly. Being cared for is a funny thing, as intoxicating as any venom, and it takes the edge off that old drive for survival. He goes back to helping, pulling his tunic loose. Sludge strings along the laces. "But don't worry. It might have been where I caught its teeth, but it couldn't shred me into pieces."
“Somewhere,” he says, and he regrets it a little when some muck gets in his mouth. There’s so little difference between the colour of his hair and the muck caked all over him.
He rests his chin against her hand as she wipes his mouth.
“Alright,” he says. “Pray Joshua does not wake. That would be a sight.”
“Alright,” he says. “Pray Joshua does not wake. That would be a sight.”
"I think he'd find it quite funny," Jill says with a mischievous smile. Everyone would be amused but Clive. "Out the back door with you, then. Try to stand away from my flowerbeds. I don't know what this will do to them."
She looks at her filthy hands. It reeks.
She looks at her filthy hands. It reeks.
“Kill them, maybe?” He wonders. “They’d get gummed up.”
Obediently, Clive heads up, stinking and dripping the whole way — fresh tracks tracing his steps back to where he’d come in, albeit one with less gear. His heart is pounding. Cold water might stave off any premature impulses.
Obediently, Clive heads up, stinking and dripping the whole way — fresh tracks tracing his steps back to where he’d come in, albeit one with less gear. His heart is pounding. Cold water might stave off any premature impulses.
Jill follows, resisting the urge to give his bottom a smack as they go up the stairs. Even like this, smelly and gross, she adores him.
Once they're outside, she heads to the hose. The cool air bites at her bare legs beneath her nightgown, but it's far enough from winter that it's not terrible. She knows a hot shower is in her future, and a clean Clive, and so she can endure.
"I'm glad we bought this spray nozzle," she says, turning the water on and testing the spray and temperature against her hand, while at the same time rinsing off some of the goop.
"The water is cold," she warns. It's the middle of the night, after all. "Let me start with your back, first. Top to bottom."
Once they're outside, she heads to the hose. The cool air bites at her bare legs beneath her nightgown, but it's far enough from winter that it's not terrible. She knows a hot shower is in her future, and a clean Clive, and so she can endure.
"I'm glad we bought this spray nozzle," she says, turning the water on and testing the spray and temperature against her hand, while at the same time rinsing off some of the goop.
"The water is cold," she warns. It's the middle of the night, after all. "Let me start with your back, first. Top to bottom."
Clive wanders onto the lawn, giving her a lingering look before he turns away. It is cool out indeed, and helpfully, his mind supplies the mental image of her nipples hardening under her sweet little gown, and the warmth between her legs.
“I’ll live,” he muses. “Spray at your leisure, Jill.”
“I’ll live,” he muses. “Spray at your leisure, Jill.”
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