Title: Drenched
Author: silvernatasha
Characters/Pairings: Bill Weasley/Nymphadora Tonks
Rating: R
Kinks/Themes Chosen: Bathing/washing, (implied) life-threatening situations, silence (sort of)
Other Warnings:
Word Count: 1,127
Summary/Description: Bill is late for a post-mission rendezvous. He has a good reason.
Author's Notes: Thanks to bloodrunner666 @ LJ for betaing for me.



The clock ticked ever louder, every tick and tock more pronounced as the seconds passed by. Nymphadora Tonks, born three weeks early, simply didn't do waiting and patience. Waiting patiently was for boring people and if there was one thing that she prided herself on, it was that she wasn't the boring sort. From her collection of band t-shirts in varying states of decay to the long, bubblegum pink plaits that hung over her shoulders, she defied boredom from top to toe.

Once again, she looked at the three watches that were strapped to her wrist. All read the exact same minute, the exact same second. And, according to each and every single one of her watches, Bill Weasley was precisely seven minutes and twenty-three seconds late for the rendezvous. It had been all quiet on her end. Something was keeping him.

Starting to pace, she promptly tripped over her heavy-soled boots and caught herself on the edge of the low bed that dominated the small flat. She rolled her eyes at herself and twisted round, flopping onto her back and stretching across the bed. A crack in one of the ceiling tiles seemed to grin crookedly down, mocking her. A scowl fixed itself firmly on her face. This was unacceptable and Bill was going to get an earful about this. You didn't just turn up late. There was a war going on.

Her head popped up at the snap of someone Apparating into the flat. There he was. He often took her breath away, but this time for a different reason.

Blood dripped in thick splats from the cuffs of his leather coat onto the beige carpet. His knitted jumper was soaked through, the same horrific shade of red that Tonks had styled her hair in just two days before. Flecks splattered across his freckled features, clinging to his pale eyelashes.

Bill dropped his wand, hands gloved in red. Tonks was on her feet before it even hit the floor, Auror eyes looking him over. It wasn't his blood. None of it. He wouldn't have been standing there if it was.

He opened his mouth, throat working as he tried to make words but Tonks silenced him with a shake of her head as he clutched at the tops of her arms, staining them with red fingerprints.

It was safe to say the mission hadn't gone well.

Tonks clasped his face in her hands, smearing the blood splatters across his cheeks. Locking eyes with him, she took several steadying breaths and then, finally, Bill's breathing began to slow in response.

It took just the slightest encouragement to guide him towards the bathroom, his large feet moving sluggishly and more blood drops following their progress. The drops seemed louder on the linoleum, yet Bill simply stood there. Tonks sighed, her hair turning a sombre brown.

She whipped back the shower curtain, though it seemed determined to cling to her. She swatted it away. Fiddling with the tap, it finally responded and let out a juddering stream of water that ran over her arm before settling into a constant flow. And still Bill stood there.

Tonks grasped the lapels of his coat, yanking it off him. It fell heavily to the floor and by the time she had started to take off his jumper, Bill seemed to have woken up enough to help remove his own clothes. As he fumbled with the fastening of his jeans, Tonks balled up the jumper and stuffed it in the sink. She wanted to burn it, but was too concerned with getting him into the shower to give that a second thought.

Steam started to cloud the mirror. Bill rested a hand firmly on Tonks' shoulder as he struggled with his boots and socks. Finally, though, she pushed him under the spray, the water turning pink as it ran off his lean body. Rather than pull back the shower curtain, however, Bill reached out a bloody hand and pulled her in with him, clothes and all.

Water sluiced over his long hair, which was still pulled back into a ponytail. Bill hugged Tonks up against him, despite the way she squirmed to get away. Tonks pushed her hair out of her eyes, but when she finally stopped moving she felt Bill's muscles relax. Drenched, she stared up at him, blinking against the water. His grip on her loosened, though she was still held close to his chest. She felt the sigh that he expelled rather than heard it, aching for him. What had he seen? Whose blood was peeling around their feet?

Snagging the sponge from soap dish, Tonks extracted herself from his embrace just enough to start running it over the lean planes of Bill's chest. He bowed his head, eyes closed. Until now, Tonks had never noticed how pale his eyelashes were. Droplets clung to them.

She stared at his face, fascinated and hardly blinking against the water. Her sponge slid lower, wrist bumping against the head of his erect cock. Tonks paused, not sure how to proceed. Bill's expression didn't change. His breathing didn't quicken. If anything, he relaxed further. She glanced down, sponge skimming awkwardly across his lower stomach.

Harnessing the same boldness that had let her strip him, Tonks moved the sponge lower, caressing his erection slowly. Just the smallest intake of breath caught her attention; Bill bit down on his lower lip, the briefest flash of white teeth on pink lips.

Tonks let the sponge fall from her grasp where it landed with a squelch on her foot. Her fingers curled gently around him, gliding up his length. Bill's large hand rested on the small of her back, fisting her sodden t-shirt. The strength of his grasp spurred her on, infusing her with a growing sense of urgency. He held her tighter and she leant forward, forehead resting against the crook of his neck as her hand stroked him with increasing speed.

Her hair clung to her face, but Tonks kept her eyes closed. Against her, she could feel the pulsing of Bill's heart and the way his muscles tense and flexed as he breathed.

His whole body seemed to tighten one final time, his release covering her hand before the shower washed it away. Tonks' hand slid to the base of his erection, holding it until they sagged against each other, heavy and spent.

Blindly, Tonks turned off the shower. Water dripped from her clothes and their hair, draining clear around their feet. For the first time, he kissed her and tried to press her against the tiles. Tonks slipped and he grasped at her, pulling her flush against his chest. There, in his embrace, Tonks began to laugh. There was nothing to be said.