Season 3: Post Raging Housekeeper
Against all odds, Tony seemed to feel even more sore by the time he and Angela pulled in the driveway after the fight. Who knew three rounds of boxing would take this kind of toll. Maybe he really was getting old. He put that thought out of his mind when he recalled the exhilaration of every punch he landed. He still had it — even if it took a little more out of him these days.
Angela helped him into the house, and all he wanted was to collapse on the couch for the next three days. But instead, she steered him toward the stairs.
"Not a chance," he whined.
"Come on, Tony, if you lie down on the couch, you'll never get back up. You need a bath and some Epsom salts to ease those sore muscles."
He couldn't deny a bath sounded divine, but there was just one problem. "Angela, I don't think I have the arm strength to get my shirt off right now, let alone lower myself into the tub."
"Don't worry, I'll help you," she promised, and he looked askance at her as he thought about the lack of propriety in her proposal.
"You'll help me into the tub? Your tub?" he asked dubiously.
She rolled her eyes. "Don't go getting all self-conscious," she said matter-of-factly, "I'm your trainer, remember? This is part of the job."
"Rocky never had it so good," he quipped before wincing as his quadricep protested his first step up the staircase.
One grueling tread at a time, they made their way hip-to-hip up the stairs, with Tony relying on Angela like a crutch to hoist himself up each step. By the time they reached the landing, he was sweating with exertion. When at last they got to Angela's bathroom, Tony sank down on the edge of the tub like it was the softest of recliners. Every muscle hurt, either from being pummeled during the fight or from compensating for those that endured the pummeling.
"Let me get the water started, and then I'll help you get those clothes off."
Tony managed to raise his eyebrow, but Angela was already going about her tasks with perfunctory efficiency, adjusting the tap to achieve the right temperature, retrieving the Epsom salts from under the sink and pouring a generous amount into the tub.
By the time she turned her attention back to him, he'd managed to toe off his shoes and was rather proud of the achievement.
"Okay, let's get this t-shirt off."
Standing in front of him, she reached over his shoulders and began pulling the back of the shirt over his head. The position allowed him to simply lean forward and drop his hands so she could draw the shirt over his head and down his arms.
"That wasn't too hard, was it?" she asked.
"No, not at all," he agreed, realizing none of his aching muscles were protesting. As he straightened up, though, Angela caught sight of his torso, where twin bruises were blooming around his sides.
"Oh my gosh, Tony," she exclaimed, "You're turning purple!" Instinctively, she reached out to touch the mottled skin, and although Tony reflexively winced, the pressure of her warm hand turned out to be soothing. She followed the bruise around his back, with her other hand on his shoulder.
"I'm so sorry, Tony. I had no idea you would get hurt like this," she said softly, feeling guilty for her role in persuading him to do the fight.
"It's not so bad. I've had worse – and unless I'm mistaken, Wilbur the librarian has a set to match. Besides, it was for a good cause," he reasoned.
With her hand still pressed against his side, she drew back to meet his eyes. "You paid a high price for all of us, Tony. Thank you."
The moment drew out with the intimacy of their position not lost on either of them. Finally, Angela murmured, "Let's get you in this tub to ease those muscles." Keeping her focus on the task, she kneeled down and slid his socks off one at a time, tossing them in the hamper with the shirt.
The next step was going to be the hardest, both physically and psychologically. Seeing Tony without a shirt – while not an everyday occurrence – was at least not unheard of. But removing his pants was another matter entirely.
"Do you think you can stand up long enough to get your sweatpants off?" Angela asked in a voice that didn't sound nearly as casual as she hoped.
He looked at her and decided that trying to get them off himself would be less painful than maintaining self-control if she had to do it. "I can manage."
Angela nodded gratefully and stepped out to retrieve his robe from the other bathroom. When she returned, he was sitting on the tub trying to raise his foot toward his hand so he could pull the elastic cuff over his heel.
"Here, let me help you," she said, rushing to him, unable to watch him struggle. Holding his leg, she stretched the cuff and tugged it over his foot, then repeated the process, leaving her standing there with his pants in her hand and him in only his boxer shorts.
"Okay," she practically squeaked, "time to climb in."
"I think I can't do it myself," he said softly.
Angela nodded and stood nearby while he lifted one leg and then the other as he pivoted on the edge of the tub and lowered himself into the water. She stepped closer as he braced his hands on either side of the tub and eased in.
The relief on his face was immediate. The warm water enveloped him, and the bath salts began to seep into his pores.
Angela knew her presence was no longer necessary, but she couldn't quite bring herself to leave.
"I have some bath oils, if you'd like. Peppermint and eucalyptus are supposed to help with muscle soreness," she offered.
Before he could respond, she went to the cabinet and retrieved two little bottles. Then she kneeled at the side of the tub and poured several drops of each scent into the water.
"Smells nice," Tony said, then lifted his hand from the water to grasp hers. "Thank you, Angela. I probably could have managed all this on my own, but I'm glad I didn't have to."
"You're welcome," she replied, leaving her hand in his as they sat side by side, each facing the other with the wall of the bathtub between them.
Tony leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "Tell me about the fight, from your perspective. How'd I do?" he asked, opening one eye to peer at her expectantly.
She smiled and filled him in on the details as she remembered them, hoping her effusive praise of his prowess in the ring helped make the toll on his body more bearable. For the next half hour, Angela sat on the floor of her bathroom, regaling Tony with tales of his exploits as a local boxing hero. When the water cooled, she turned on the hot tap to raise the temperature again before returning to her spot and using the washcloth to ring the hot water over his neck and shoulders.
It was as intimate a moment as they'd ever shared with each other, and not even the vague specter of Geoffrey could penetrate the bubble they inhabited within the confines of the small bathroom. Though nothing directly untoward happened, their actions bespoke a closeness they rarely acknowledged.
When the water cooled a second time, Tony reluctantly decided it was time to try and get up. "Both of us have turned pruny," he observed, turning her palm toward him and running his thumbs over the wrinkled pads of her fingers.
She ran her hand along his arm, "How do you feel?"
He gently rolled his shoulders and flexed his leg muscles under the water before venturing a cautiously optimistic verdict. "Better, I think. I mean, at least I can move without wincing."
Knowing her job was done, she smiled tenderly before replying, "I'm glad to hear it. I trust you can handle everything from here, but if you need me, I'll just be in the other room."
Tony nodded before bringing her hand to his lips and placing a kiss on her knuckles. "I don't deserve to have someone as perfect as you in my corner – literally and metaphorically."
She touched his cheek in return, "I've said the same about you many a time."
"It seems we make a good team," he said evenly, letting the words linger between them.
"Yes, we do," she replied in equal measure, her eyes locked on his.
When everything unspoken finally settled back around them, Angela stepped away from the tub and moved the towel and robe to within his grasp. "Let me know if you need me."
"Always," he replied, leaving Angela to wonder, as she closed the bathroom door behind her, if he meant to imply he'd always let her know, or that he'd always need her.
Whatever his intent, she knew for certain that she would always need him.