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“Auggie…”
The door slams shut behind them, and Eishia flinches despite the comforting weight of August’s arm around her. He squeezes her shoulder.
“Hey, I’m fine! We’re all good, huh?”
Her hand is damp where it presses against his front, and when she pulls it away her skin is stained red. There’s red in his lovely hair, too, matting it into long, gruesome strands.
“So much blood,” she whispers. “There’s so much, I—”
She’s used to seeing blood—to seeing far worse things, in fact—but it’s different when it’s personal. Every bit of this blood is soaked in her own terror, and in August’s rage. They’re barely through the door, but Eishia slips free of his arm and turns to him, running her hands across his chest and patting his ribcage. August gives her one of his wide, satisfied smiles.
“Don’t worry, none of it is mine!” His expression falters as she looks up into his face, inspecting him for damage. His eyebrows draw tight together. “You’re worse off than I am, Eishey,” he murmurs, thumbing at the dried blood under her nose. “That fucking—I still can’t believe he hit you!”
August is still shaking with the aftershocks of his fury, but he’s gentle as he cups her face in one hand. Eishia leans her cheek into his palm with a sigh. Her chin keeps wobbling with the need to cry for the hundredth time, but concern for August’s wellbeing is stronger than her own fear and upset. Catching his other hand, she hisses sympathetically at his split, sore knuckles, still oozing with blood and plasma.
“Um, go and sit down, I’ll just get set up and—”
“Nah,” August says. “Leave it, yeah? I don’t want you to use your energy on this, and anyway, I kind of like it.” He flexes his hand, eyes feverishly bright as he watches his fist form. “This is proof of my vengeance!”
Eishia’s urge to heal is so strong that she has to swallow three times before she can manage a nod. She squeezes his long, familiar fingers, unable to make eye contact as fresh tears clog up her throat. August’s hand slips from her face, and he hooks his arm around her shoulders instead, pulling her into a hug. The front of his overalls is damp and metallic against her cheek, but he’s warm and solid, his heartbeat reassuringly steady.
“C’mon, let’s get cleaned up, yeah?”
Eishia loves it when his voice goes quiet like this, soft in a way that she knows nobody else gets to hear. Winding her arms about his waist to squeeze him tight, she nods fervently. Neither of them will be able to settle until they’re both cleaned up.
The bathroom is small enough that Eishia feels the ragged edges of her anxiety begin to settle. August is all long limbs and nonstop narration as he sets the water running and begins to strip off, and that helps her calm, too.
“Let me help?” Eishia ventures, and August bends towards her with a smile, tilting his chin back to allow her better access as she gathers his blood-sticky hair at the base of his neck. “Your poor pretty hair…”
August shrugs. “It’ll wash.”
He’s still radiating reassurance, along with the dregs of whatever manic energy fuelled him through the last couple of hours, but Eishia can see where his eyes are growing tired, his body language shrinking to fit the space between them.
When she’s got him stripped down to underwear, frowning at the bloodstains that have soaked through to his skin, Eishia lets him return the favour.
August’s hands are swift and sure, flying across the fastenings of her dress with the confidence of someone who knows her clothes inside and out. Every layer he peels from her is a relief; the outside world, with its unkind words and violence and so much hurt, falls in a damp heap on the tiles.
Steam begins to cloud the room, its welcome warmth pressing up against their skin. Quietly, they finish undressing each other, slipping final layers off with gentle touches until they’re both bare.
Eishia is shy by nature, but not here, never here, with her dear Auggie. Bared like this, she can see their similarities in skin tone and the shape of wrist and ankle, the lean build they both share, the same fine, blonde hair at underarm and between their legs. It’s the most natural thing in the world.
She reaches for a washcloth, soaks it in warm water and rubs a bar of soap into the weave until the suds spill over her knuckles.
“Let me wash you?”
August’s face is calm now. “Yeah,” he says, and kneels in front of her. “Please, Eishey.”
There’s a deep, quiet satisfaction in cleaning the blood from him, each squeeze of her cloth rinsing soapy water across him and leaving his skin scrubbed pink. He won’t let Eishia heal him, but she can at least do this, clearing away all the unkind filth of the outside world and revealing the sweetness of her brother underneath.
Kneeling patiently under her ministrations, August steadies himself with a hand on the back of her thigh. When she tilts his face up so she can dab at his split eyebrow and the faint red splatters across his cheek, he smiles warmly.
“Doin’ okay?”
Eishia nods, and bends to press a quick kiss to his forehead. “Are you? Do you have any pain anywhere? Any dizziness?”
August laughs. “My little sister, ever the healer. I’m good.” His thumb rubs the back of her knee, and his expression falters. “I’m… I’m just glad I was there.”
“Me too.”
Gathering his hair so it spills in front of one shoulder, Eishia runs the wet cloth down the back of his neck, squeezing until bubbles run down the knobs of his spine. August leans forward with a soft, satisfied groan, and rests his forehead against her. His breath is warmer even than the steam.
“I don’t get it,” he mutters. “I mean, I do, but fuck, how could anyone look at you and think anything negative, let alone violent?!”
“They were just scared, I think.”
Both of August’s hands are gentle on the backs of her legs now. He runs them up, squeezes the slight round of her hips. His lips brush against her skin when he speaks.
“Yeah, yeah, I bet. Grown men, scared of a little girl,” he says, heavy with a strange mixture of scorn and appreciation. “Scared of the prettiest, sweetest, kindest, bravest girl in the world.”
“Auggie!”
“What? It’s true!”
August’s head lolls against her, face tilting up to shoot her a little grin. It’s Eishia’s favourite smile, the one that’s hers alone, private and playful and just for them. She pats the top of his head, and his eyes go heavy-lidded.
“You’re the only one who thinks so,” Eishia whispers. “And… and I don’t care about anyone else, anyway.”
August’s hum vibrates across her skin, quickens her breath. She wants—well, she knows what she wants, but she’s too shy to ask for it, even from him. In a surge of sudden daring, she runs the cloth down the cut of his shoulder blade, leaning down and letting the movement sway her close into him.
Her heart skips with sudden nerves, but August’s already there, hands pressing against the backs of her thighs so she can’t move away again, nuzzling his face into her hip. His mouth is soft and heated against her skin.
“Eishia, baby, let me help you forget them.”
She doesn’t need help to forget—all her thoughts are on him already—but she nods anyway, a little frantic in her agreement, and steadies herself with a hand on his shoulder.
August needs no more encouragement than that. Nudging her feet apart, he crawls a little closer, kneeling more fully between her legs. The pretty shape of his spine shows as he bends into her, curling himself so that his height matches hers better, and then Eishia can’t see anything else because her eyes are fluttering shut.
The first touch of his mouth makes her gasp. He kisses the crease between thigh and hip, following the line down until he can bury his nose and mouth in the hair between her legs, already soft and damp for him.
“August…” it comes out as little more than a sigh.
He pulls her in closer, hand spanning her thigh, the crease of her buttock. Eishia lets the cloth fall to the floor with a soft splat, and instead lays her hands on him, slipping over the wet, soapy planes of his shoulders.
She feels safe here. Safe in his presence, under his touch, the gentle heat of his tongue as he presses it against her folds and sinks in with a soft groan.
When August tastes the slick wetness waiting for him, his moan of pleasure rivals Eishia’s. He laps at her hungrily, long smooth licks that make her knees wobble and her toes curl on the tiles. She breathes in short gasps of steamy air.
The blend of pleasure and safety is dizzying. Eishia pushes her hands into August’s hair, cradles his head as lovingly as she can while he curls his tongue into her in a way that makes her see stars. Her hips jolt forward without her permission, cramming her against his face.
“Sorry,” she gasps. “Sorry, Auggie!”
But August just groans, deep and heartfelt, and pulls her in, encouraging her to do it again. She moves shyly at first, but if there’s anywhere in the world she feels bravest, it’s with August.
“Oh, oh, that’s—feels so good,” she moans, hips canting forward, grinding against his waiting tongue. When she manages to pry her eyes open to look down at him, the open adoration in his gaze, looking right back up at her, makes her knees buckle.
He’s so good, her big brother, so good and clever and handsome, and she loves him so much.
Eishia’s hand flies to her mouth, stifling a cry as her pleasure crests, her other hand clutching desperately at August’s hair as her legs give way entirely. He takes her weight without struggle, mouth open as if to drink her down, hands on her bottom and guiding her to grind out her pleasure until tears finally spill down her face.
“Au–August…”
“Baby, Eishey, c’mere my best girl.”
She falls into his waiting arms, collapsing down onto his kneeling lap with a squeak that’s immediately muffled as he takes her face in both hands and kisses her. It’s tender and thorough, so loving that Eishia twines her arms around his neck, unwilling to let it end.
August tastes of her, his mouth and chin slippery with her pleasure, and that’s so thrilling and right that it makes her bold. Rising up on shaky legs, Eishia wiggles until she feels him, hard and wanting, settle against her entrance.
“Fuck,” August whines, low against her mouth. “You feel so good—baby, are you sure?”
She’s always sure when it comes to August. Unable to speak past the gasping love in her throat, Eishia simply kisses him and sinks down onto him. The stretch is delicious, a pressing affirmation that August is deep inside her.
Shuddering his appreciation, August wraps her up in a bear hug, arms and legs and bodies tangled up together. It's hard to move like this, but that doesn't matter—this isn't about the sex, or even the pleasure, really. It's a coming together, a rejoining, and Eishia feels nothing but happiness.
She rocks into August, enjoying the sensation of him inside her, wrapped around her, his breath in her ear. Their naked skin slips easily with the added slide of soapy water, the steam making the air so temperate that it's easy to forget anything exists outside of each other; just the way it should be.
“Auggie,” Eishia murmurs, stroking his hair as she feels the jerk and shudder of his pleasure building.”Yes, please.”
She can't say it out loud, not even to him, but he understands, in the way he always does, and it tears a deep, ragged moan from him. Burying his face in her neck, August gives her exactly what she wants, spilling himself deep inside her.
Eishia's satisfaction is so intense that she feels limp and boneless, twined around August and unwilling to move. They're pressed so close together that it feels like they're melting into one, heartbeats converging.
“Eishey,” August mumbles, aimless and full of affection. “My sweet Eishey.”
It's hard to even lift her head, but Eishia summons all her strength, and is rewarded by his mouth on hers, their breath intermingling until even the air she breathes is August.
She loves everything about her brother, but there's a secret corner of her heart that likes these moments best, when they are one, and all is right with the world.