hedleylamarr:

Jan-Michael Vincent in Defiance (1980).

Rod cherished the warm water cascading over his face and tried to ignore the soreness on his shoulder. He wanted the water hotter, but it felt like fire on his healing skin. Over the sound of the spray, he could hear faint footfall on the tile floor. He stepped out of the spray. “Whose there?”
“Just me.”
Rod looked at the shadow on other side of the curtain. “Jon?”
“Y-yeah.”
“What are you doing in here, Private?”
He muttered, “Just um, wondering if you wanted your back washed. There was a lot of gunk on there when we took off the bandages.”
Rod tilted his head. Jon was the odd one in his squad, and an idea was solidifying about what exactly made him a bit different. Jon had to know this was dangerous behavior in the military, but he was so young and naive it was more harmless than horny.  Rod pushed the curtain back. Jon’s eyes went huge and his cheeks turned bright red. Rod was amused, had he not seen a million men naked in the shower already? And here he was blushing like a schoolgirl.
“Normally that’s not the kind of behavior you should show to an Sergeant, son, but I’m itchy enough to take you up on that. My shirt was sticking to all the residue earlier.”
Jon was wearing a pair of gym shorts and nothing else. He was trying so hard not to look down. Rod turned and showed his back to Jon to prevent the poor Private from passing out. That would be hard to explain.
“Is it really healing?” Rod asked.
“It is. Lots of healthy, pink tissue granulation. Scabs aren’t ready to come off yet, but it’s healing.”
Rod sighed in relief. “That’s good. It’s still so sore though.”
“You probably have some deep bruising in the musculature. Can you pass the soap please?”
Rod passed it back. Jon wet the washcloth- and promptly dropped the soap.
“Oh god,” he squeaked.
“I got it,” Rod said. He squatted down to get the bar of soap and put it on the soap rack on the wall.
“Wow,” Jon whispered.
“Wow what?”
“Um.” Jon stammered. “Just – your back is really muscular. Sir.”
Rod tilted his head again. “Jon, are you not like the other boys?”
“What? What are you talking about Sir?”
“You don’t seem to have a lot of pin ups in your bunk area, Private. Haven’t heard you talk about a girl back home either.”
“I’m focusing on my military career, Sir.”
Rod smothered a laugh. Oh, Jon had rehearsed that. “Oh, ok, I see.”
He dropped the subject. A warm washcloth was pressed to his back. Rod groaned. Jon made slow circles, cleaning off the layers of bandage residue and massaging sore muscles. He washed Rod’s back from top to bottom in methodical circles. Rod let his head droop; this was nice. Why couldn’t he get this every time he showered? 
“I don’t think you’ll need to have the bandages put back on, Sir. Maybe overnight, to protect it.”
“Huh?” Rod said.
“I said I think you only need bandages at night now.”
“Oh. That’s good,” Rod replied.
“What’s the little scar on the back of your neck from?”
“My brother threw a toy car at me when I was 6. It was a pick up truck, it had a sharp edge and cut me. Needed three stitches.”
Jon giggled. “Naughty. I bet you were cute as a kid.”
“I mean, I was. But I was also a troublemaker. I deserved getting that truck thrown at me.”
Jon smiled. “Your poor mother.”

“You should ask me what the scar on my arm is from.”
“Oh?”
Rod turned his arm upside down so Jon could see the flat part of his lower arm.
“Oh what is that from? Never seen that before..”
“Well, I normally wear sleeves,” Rod explained. Rod didn’t say anything when Jon began to wash his shoulders and arms.
“What happened?” Jon asked.
“I slipped in the woods, fell, and broke my arm on a rock. They had to do an operation to line up the bones again. I was running away from the cops.”
“My goodness, you were a troublemaker, Sergeant. How old were you?”
“18. I was running from the cops, because I had gotten caught in a compromising position in a car with another person.”
Jon laughed. “Such a troublemaker! Your poor mother indeed.”
“You should ask who I got caught with.”
“Oh? Why? Who did you get with?” Jon asked.
“His name was Gerald. That was the reason I had to join the military.”
Jon stopped washing his back. “His?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Jon whispered.
“Cause I think you’re like me, Jon. I just want to let you know, if you are, I understand.”
Jon didn’t say anything. “I don’t know. I might be.”
“That’s fine. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. We should get out, we’ve been in here a while.” Rod moved to turn off the water.
“No don’t turn around!”
Rod startled.
“What? Why?”
“I’m going to get out first.” There was rising panic in Jon’s voice.
Ron heared the shower curtain move. “Are you hard?”
“No!” Jon squeaked.
Rod snickered “Well, I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable. But thank you for washing my back. It feels a lot better now. I’m glad to have such fantastic medical staff at this base.”
“Happy to provide care for our Sergeants, Sir. Make sure you come back to the infirmary to get a bandage placement for the evening.”
“Thank you, Private.”

Rod waited for Jon to get dressed. When he heard the door close, he got out of the shower and changed into some fresh clothes. God, it was so nice that his clothes weren’t sticking to his back anymore. He thought about his conversation and wondered if he had gone too far in revealing personal information. Rod ran a comb through his hair and threw everything into a duffel bag. He left the small bath house and was startled to find Jon waiting for him outside.

“Private. What are you still doing here?”
"Um.” Jon scuffed his boot on the ground. “Just wanted to ask. How did you know, that you wanted to be in the car with Gerald, and not with Jenny?”
Rod glanced around. They shouldn’t be having this conversation around here. “Well, I didn’t know, but my body did. And the more I listened to my body, the more sense it made.”
“Oh,” Jon said.
“What does your body tell you?”
“I liked washing your back,” Jon whispered.
Rod looked Jon in the eyes. “Then let’s do it again shall we?”
Jon showed the slightest of smiles. “Ok.”

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Captions are fictional. Let’s see if this gets deleted.