Chapter Text
Joan held her hand under the stream of water to check the temperature before untying the belt of Allie’s robe.
“Look, I appreciate the help but I think I can shower on my own. I feel a lot better than I did last night,” Allie murmured. Joan hung Allie’s robe on the hook and removed her own.
“You still don’t look well. Showering alone is unwise,” Joan replied. Allie conceded with a small nod and stepped into the stall. Joan followed and pulled the curtain closed. She squirted some of her shampoo into the palm of her hand, and began working it through Allie’s hair.
“That smells nice. You have good taste,” Allie said with a tired smile.
“Thank you,” Joan said as she began to massage Allie’s scalp.
“Mmm…” Allie moaned softly, relaxing into her touch.
“Good?”
“Very.”
Joan smiled to herself while she dug her fingertips into Allie’s scalp. She continued massaging her head and neck for a few minutes, and then guided Allie to stand under the stream to rinse the shampoo out of her hair.
“You didn’t answer my question last night,” Allie remarked.
“And what question was that?” Joan asked as she applied conditioner to the ends of Allie’s blonde strands.
“Why are you helping me?”
“You need help,” Joan said plainly.
“That’s it?”
“Well, I suppose I bear some responsibility for the state you were in. I monopolized the drug market, so you couldn’t buy from anyone else. I could have refused to sell to you, but I didn’t.”
“So you’re taking care of me to make up for getting me hooked?” Allie commented in disbelief.
“In part,” Joan confirmed as she washed Allie’s back. “It also wouldn’t bode well for my customers to see you so ill. Besides, I see who you are, Allie. You enjoy being taken care of.”
“And you enjoy taking care of me,” Allie blurted out. Joan chuckled under her breath.
“What makes you say that?”
Allie turned around to face her unlikely companion, and tried to avoid staring at Joan’s bare breasts.
“You’ve been helping me shower and haven’t tried to make a move on me once, so I know this isn’t just about the sex. You made me a cuppa this morning, and remembered how I take it. You had an extra tracksuit my size in your cell this morning. I’m guessing you got Mr. Stewart to get it for me.”
“It wouldn’t have been hygienic for you to wear your clothing from yesterday,” Joan pointed out. Allie ignored her comment and cupped her cheek.
“You forced me to drink a bunch of water and eat a slice of toast this morning even though I didn’t want to because you knew it would be good for me. Every time I woke up throughout the night you were playing with my hair, or checking to make sure I was breathing, or counting how many times my heart beat in a minute, or wrapping me up in extra blankets. You didn’t get any sleep at all, did you?” Allie said gently.
“What do you want me to say, Allie?” Joan asked, frustrated with Novak’s obvious fishing for praise. Allie desperately gripped the back of Joan’s head with the little strength she had, and pulled her close. Joan could feel the warmth of her breath on her lips, and the shaky grip of her hand.
“I want you to admit that you care about me,” Allie pleaded. Joan gently brushed away a few strands of wet hair stuck to her forehead and gave her a small, sympathetic smile.
“You’re still processing some of the effects of withdrawal, and you haven’t had any uninterrupted sleep. You’re likely still dehydrated. It’s understandable that you’re feeling some exaggerated emotions, but-”
“No, Joan,” Allie insisted with tears in her eyes. “I’m not overtired. It’s obvious that you care about me in your own twisted way. Just say it for fucks sake!”
“Why? What benefit is there to fulfilling this desperate need you have for my validation? All that would do is breed false hope. There’s no happy endings for trysts among prisoners, Allie. I will never be able to give you what you want, and you must accept that” Joan warned her.
“Jesus Christ Joan, I’m not asking you to tell me that you love me. I just need to know that you care!” Allie exclaimed. Joan watched her quizzically as the younger woman’s jaw tensed. Joan winced as Allie wound her hand into her hair and pulled her face closer to her own.
“I need to know that I’m not crazy for thinking you care about me. I need to know it wasn’t just the drugs. If you’re just using m-if this is just some sick game, I…” Allie sighed and dropped her shoulders. “I need to know that you give a shit about me so that I can live with myself,” she admitted. Joan bit her tongue as she carefully considered how to respond. She had let herself be more vulnerable with Novak than she’d expected, it was true, but she still didn’t know how much she could trust her. Allie seemed to care for her in some regard, but she still stole the hotshot from Joan’s cell with intent to kill. She was a loose cannon.
“Fine,” Joan relented. “I…enjoy taking care of you.”
“You do?” Allie asked as she studied Joan’s eyes.
“Yes.”
“You like taking care of me?” Allie repeated, closing the space between them.
“Yes, that’s what I just said,” Joan tutted. Allie pressed her breasts into Joan’s, and grabbed her hand, guiding it between her thighs.
“Then take care of me.”