Title: Are you Kind?

He yelled loudly enough to pull her out of a dead sleep, and she thought briefly of ignoring him, since he didn't sound like he was in extreme pain, which was the only rational explanation for waking her this early.

Slowly, she swung her legs out of bed and tottered to the bathroom, yawning. "What? What is it?"

The shower was going full blast, filling the bathroom with steam. Given the size of the bathroom, that was pretty impressive. "We're out of soap. Can you get me a new bar, please?"

She bit her retort back. We are partners, and partners help each other, no matter how early. Usually it was her thing to fall asleep in the shower, or get so comfortable that she didn't want to move out of the heat pocket. "There is soap in there."

Kevin cleared his throat. "That's not soap, that's girl wash, and I'm not using that puffball thing."

She rolled her eyes and opened the closet. "It has to be in bar form?"

"Yes. Please hurry."

Mina pushed aside a stack of towels and grabbed the basket full of soap. They never seemed to specifically buy any, but never seemed to run out, either. Maybe they were breeding, she thought. "You're not going to want the one that smells like chocolate, right?" That one had been a gift of sorts from Raye; during their annual post-Christmas gift dump, she had ended up with the oddly shaped brown lumps before realizing that they were not edible.

"Hell. No."

As expected. "Oh, we still have some left from France. The really good ones."

He hesitated. "What do they smell like?"

She read the label on each one. "Pink peony, rose petal, hydrangea, violet moss…"

"Anything that's not a flower?"

She swallowed. "Apricot vanilla."

"No."

Her hand closed around a plastic bag. "I've got one from Lush. It's called 'Rock Star'." She opened the zip-lock and took a whiff. "OK, never mind, it smells like bubblegum."

"Good call. Keep looking."

She sighed and rummaged around. "Kevin, you're running out of options here."

"Can you buy soap today?"

What am I, your mom? "OK, your choices are flowery France soap, Raye's chocolate regifts, the Rock Star, or Kiss My Face."

He was silent for a moment as he milled over his options. "What's that last one?"

"Kiss My Face. Natural. Organic. Etc."

"Are those the green ones?"

She peeled back the label to take a look. "Yep."

A long, frustrated groan came from underneath the cloud of steam. "It smells like patchouli or something, doesn't it?"

She put the bar to her face and inhaled. "Sort of. Just use the body wash if you're so freaked out."

"Fine, the green one. I'll just smell like a hippie." She tossed the bar over the top of the door. "Thanks."

She yawned again and started shuffling towards the sink. Might as well stay awake, if she was already up. "You know, there's nothing wrong with patchouli."

"Didn't say there was."

"I like the smell of patchouli."

"So do hippies."

"There's nothing wrong with hippies."

"Didn't say there was. I like it when they juggle those sticks on the sidewalk."

"Jerry Garcia happens to be one of my favorite artists. I take a lot of inspiration from his early watercolors."

"Bet you they're awesome on acid."

She rinsed toothpaste foam out of her mouth. "Never mind, I'm going back to bed."

There was a squeaking noise, and she turned to see him clearing the spot off the glass shower door to peek out of. "Aren't you coming?"

She couldn't resist the plaintive look in his gray eyes; sighing, she stripped down and jumped in the shower. Her body was barely wet before he backed her against the porcelain and pressed his mouth on hers, his hands sliding down her naked body.

She broke away and smiled up at him, water running in rivulets down her face. "You're not going to get clean this way."

He bent down, pressing his forehead against hers, and pulled her right leg over his hip. "Nope. I'll get dirty."

She bit his shoulder as he slid inside, and her cries echoed off the glass enclosure as he fucked her to ecstasy.

They both ended up smelling like patchouli. Not that she minded.

"No, really, can you buy soap today?" She looked up from her sliced bagel and smirked; he was wearing the Jerry Garcia tie she had bought him for Christmas last year.

"Nice tie."

"Thanks. Might as well dress the part. So, soap, please? I don't want to smell like Zach every day."

She cupped his face as he kissed her goodbye. "I should really just let you use the Rock Star."

"You really want me to smell like Serena?"

When he came home that night, he was barely in the door before she was waving a bag in his face. "Look! Soap! Dr. Crazy's in bar form! Neutral smells! No more waking up Mina at the crack of dawn!"

He kissed her again—they did a lot of that—and put the bag on the counter. "Thank you."

"How was your day?"

He pulled off his jacket and tried to see what was in the oven. "Interesting. Lasagna?"

"Baked spaghetti. What was so interesting?"

He was trying to hide his smile. "The Dow took another dive, I helped Zach buy a hotel in the Caribbean, and Manny from the mail room asked if I wanted to see Phish at Bonnaroo with him and his friend Che. I told him we'd go."

She followed him down the hallway, her mouth hanging open. "Wait, what?"

"Phish. At Bonnaroo. It's cool, Manny said he'd drive."

Mina stopped in the bedroom doorway and watched him undress. "Manny?"

"Think Jason wants to go?"

"You're kidding."

"Nope."

Mina threw her hands up. "You don't even like Phish!"

"Of course I do."

"Name your favorite song."

He undid his tie and hung it back up in the closet. "The one with the twelve-minute jam session in the middle that sounds better when you're high."

"That's like, all of them!"

"Manny said he'd burn me some CDs."

She crossed her arms. "So we are going to Bonnaroo with Manny from the mail room—"

"—and his friend Che—"

"—and his friend Che. All because you smelled like patchouli today."

He kissed her on the forehead as he exited the bedroom. "And because I wore the Jerry Garcia tie."

She followed him back to the kitchen. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

He shrugged one shoulder and opened the oven. "You said Jerry Garcia is one of your major influences. I wouldn't kill me to check him out. I can even wear my tie."

"Jerry Garcia's been dead for almost fifteen years."

He stopped and turned, his glasses slightly foggy from the heat of the oven, and a look of concerned befuddlement on his face. "Wait, then what the hell is Phish?"

Mina could barely blink as she shuffled out of the kitchen, muttering about her upcoming road trip with Manny and Che. She spotted the bag on the counter and went over to open it, and spoke to the peppermint-scented bars inside.

"Where were you this morning to prevent this from happening?"