"I'm not likely to go to a dentist about this Angel." He replies. She's seen all his scars, most of them newer rather than older, and none of them were fixed up by the NHS. He's had to bite down on belts before as he patched himself up, or was patched up by a friend, or just dealt with it the best way he can.
But despite the pain, and it is a lot of pain, he's damn glad she knows what to do. Even without knowing about her father, somehow he'd known that Angel would know what to do. She was sensible, practical, smart, but she was all of that while still being fun. Something his sister had never actually managed to do.
"Don't give me that. I know what you're fond of." He adds, before her lips brush his skin and he knows she's ready. The wood goes between his teeth and he tries to focus on anything other than the sharp pinpoint pain of the needle, the tug of the thread. But it's over soon enough.
Well, not soon enough, not by half, but it becomes clear that she's done and he can only be grateful for that, pulling the wood from his mouth.
"Right, health care. I forget. That's where most of the guys I know tend to go when they need to be patched up."
The rest of the work is done in focus - and she keeps a commentary, small hushing words to give him anything other than the pain to focus on. Okay, one, I don't think it'll take more than six, so, five more to go. He's doing really good. Just a little bit more, she just needs him to hold still, that's all, it's going to okay -
The stitches are neat. She'd had a lot of practise when Nisha or Wilhelm when they were slammed down on the kitchen table. Or the nearest flat surface. He's still bleeding, he would be for a while, but it was finally starting to slow as she closed the skin back together.
When it's finally over, he thankfully only has to endure one more wipe down of antiseptic, before she covers the whole thing with gauze and medical tape to cover it from further infections. But before he gets any kind of whiskey, she fishes out the antibiotics for him to take. Painkillers as well. Good stuff, the kind you have to ask a doctor pretty please for across counter.
"Two now, two tomorrow morning." She sets it down, next to him. Pacing around the room to get him what he asked for - well, she supposed some whiskey couldn't hurt him, even if she knew it wasn't a great idea, hadn't managed to kill anyone else yet. After that, she started running a bath, clean up the worst of him and soak his sore muscles.
With the whiskey set down for him and the water running, she lets him take the minute whilst she cleans up. Wiping up blood from the door, her table, from the floor. Practised to that process as she was to stitching him up. Until, despite him still sitting on her table, there was nothing left but him to prove anything had happened at all to the naked eye.
Bundling up his torn up clothes, she tosses them into the bin to burn later. Takes the minute to get out of her trappings from the night out, pulling off earrings and bracelets to dump on her vanity for the time being. Before she comes back out to him, and that glass of wine she never finished. Picking it up to take a big mouthful, touching him on the shoulder as she passes to stand in front of him again. "Hey, the bath's almost done."
There's no doubt she's good. She's got the right mix of firm with the right amount of gentle, the words reassuring despite the amount of concentration and concern on her face. It'd be easy to close his eyes to it, to focus on nothing but her voice, but he finds his gaze on her face, watching the way her lips press together or she frowns each time the needle sinks into his flesh. She's trying not to hurt him, he knows. It's the sweetest thing, the fact she's murmured apologies throughout all of this, that somehow she needs to apologise for helping him, for patching him up. If anything, he owes her for bleeding all over her place.
"I've ruined your night, haven't I?" He asks, not sure if she's back from a party, or ready to go out. The truth is though he's bled on her, he's probably forced her to sober up far more than any pretty girl should have to on a Friday night.
He'll have to make it up to her, although how is what he'll have to think about. It won't be for a little while, of that he's certain as he eases himself off the table, trying to be useful, trying not to be more of a hindrance. She knows him well enough to know he can't sit still, not for very long, not even when he's literally just been sown up. His arm hurts, but the whisky burns a little hotter as he knocks it back, and he lets himself slowly come down from the pain and adrenaline that he's run on for the last hour.
"I'm more of a shower guy," He adds, as she mentions the bath, but he knows it's meant for him, and he's grateful. He just also knows that getting his arm wet is not on the cards, so he can't sink right under the water and let the muck of the evening wash off him. But he heads towards her bathroom, shedding the jeans and boxers, tugging them off with his one good hand. She's seen it all before, he's not shy, and he's certain she'll come with him, if only because she still seems to be in nurse mode.
He won't look better for a while yet, at least not until he's cleaned up, had a rest. Had some times to get his feet back underneath him. So she can save... worrying so much, she's sure, watching his face attentively, until at least the morning. Just make sure he gets those things before then.
It lets her sigh out a bit of laughter. "It's fair for all the good nights you give me." Being light with it, tossing the concern away like that. She finishes off her wine, in a deep mouthful, setting it down empty when he steps away, shrugging a little bit, "wasn't really anything going on tonight anyway."
He... still looks like hell, when her eyes follow him away. Getting undressed as he goes. But he's still handsome, still the only guy she could bother to look at when he walked into the room. The way she wanted to scratch her nails into his back when she saw him with anyone else even when - she didn't have a right to, really.
And - she'd always enjoy watching him, in some little way. Comfortable walking half undressed in her room.
( There was probably something to be said, something Evie or Maya would give her a look about, over the table if she said it out loud, if she asked what that means. Wanting someone the same way, over and over again. But she wasn't going to ask what it meant - and neither was Jacob, and that was just fine with her. )
Wait, did he say something? Eyes up, Angel. "Sorry, you are so not getting that wet right now. I put way too much work into that shoulder." She teases instead back.
Not so much later, just as he thought, she's there in the bathroom with him. She's nowhere near his state. But after all that, there is blood all over her hands, up her arms and smudged on her clothes where she'd been holding him. So that as he undresses so does she a few minutes later, pulling the little black bit of nothing over her head and dropping it onto the floor. Sweeping all their clothes away into a pile at the side of the room with her foot as he steps away.
A few moments later, she's close to him again. Not to follow him in the water, he needed space to stretch out in there, and she didn't trust him not to get ideas if he thought he could get away with it.
Rather, once he's settled, she sits on the edge of the bath, comfortable next to him in just her underwear and stockings. Waiting until he's settled into the steaming water before she leans across him, to turn off the taps.
The water will do him good. He can already feel it doing everything he needs it too- washing the grime from his skin, making tension uncurl, and gives him time to think. Something about steam and tipping his head back against cold tiles aways helps him think. He does feel better, even if being in the tub makes him feel a little vulnerable. That's okay. She's here. He assumes he knows what to do with the gun left in the medical kit, considering who her dad is. He knows he could probably still do some damage even in this state, but he also knows he won't need to. This place is safe. He wasn't followed.
His eyes have closed, just for a moment, while all of that go through his head, and they open again once she seems to have make herself comfortable. Still half dressed, which probably means she isn't going to slip into the water with him, even if he asks nicely. He won't push it. He'd like to pride himself on always giving her a good time, and he already feels like that winning streak is over. Best not add insult to injury.
She's beautiful though, even perched on the edge of the bath in her underwear. Enough to make him grin at her and she turns the taps. He doesn't have to say anything in that moment, he can just enjoy the view, the perfect skin, the curves hidden but only just, the elegant limbs and gentle fingers. Fingers that have many more talents than he'd previously given her credit for.
He'd tried not to ever let her find out about what he did at the office as Evie had put it. He'd always wanted to keep their relationship simple. Sex and fun, dinner or drinks out, or both, without any strings. No one needed to unpack their baggage, no one needed to know too much.
Now in pretty much the most dramatic way he could imagine, all the cards are out on the table. And yet... this isn't bad. She didn't slam the door on his face. She'd helped him, more than he'd expected. He'd thought he'd have to sew himself up while she hovered and fretted. The fact she hasn't... well. He'd incredibly impressed by how calmly she managed all of that.
Once the water is off, she turns back to him - and only catches him look, at least a little. Her smile a little shy, in return. Never knew what to make of it when he was looking at her like that. Sure it was one thing when she was in the middle of undressing and their hands were all over each other. But sometimes...
... Well she guessed, it was nice, either way. As he stretches out in the water, and she tilts her head, dropping her eyes a little to bit her lip. Didn't have to work it out, right now. Save it for another day.
What mattered right now was that he was looking a little better already. She shifts closer when it's all turned off, reaching over to find the liquid soap that was the other side of him. Maybe because then she doesn't have to look at him when he asks that particular question.
"Yeah. My dad." She doesn't really know where to start or end that part of herself, her life, a childhood spent learning things the hard way. "He didn't always run the Hyperion Corporation. Had to get there the hard way. Meant I got used to patching up his guys, in the middle of the night a lot."
He doesn't even know he's looking at her in a particular way, if truth be told. She looks lovely, despite how tired she must be, how much energy looking after someone must be. He can't help but feel a little in awe of her at that moment. But that doesn't stop him shifting slightly in the water and picking up his drink, just so he can finish off the dregs.
"You're very good at it." He says, aware that without her he'd have done it himself, and make a complete mess of it. But they both know that and so there's no need to say it. And there's no need really to dwell on the news of who her father is, although he feels like he wants to ask her really?. That's like saying Al Capone was your grandfather.
Or something.
It's quite clear that she doesn't want to talk too much about it, and he understands that much at least. He doesn't talk about his family, and she knows Evie. But as Angel has never once mentioned her dad before now, then he'll let it rest. They're all too tired, and he knows he is barely thinking straight.
"You sure you want me around for a few days? I don't want to get underfoot."
She takes her time, as she leans into him, the soap between her fingers, and gently she sets her hands on him. They'd had more than one shower together. But usually, the touching was way more involved in this. Not this careful, meticulous, as she begins to clean the blood off his skin. Sliding suds over his shoulders, his chest. Stop him having to reach up and hurt himself more. This way she could make sure he didn't strain or tear anything. Give his muscles a break, free from having to move. Her fingers are so light, so careful, making sure not to hurt him even a little.
"Well, been doing it since I was ten. Took some courses from this Doctor that had his license suspended that Jack had on his pay. Guess it paid off." She laughs as she brushes against his neck, splaying her fingers wide.
Alright, maybe she just didn't mind touching him, no matter what the reason was. "And I don't know... " she tilted her head, teasing, giving him something other than pain to think about. "... Think I can find enough reasons to make you stay in bed, getting rest?"
She has a magic touch. Normally it sends fire though him, heats him all the way to the core and pools low in his belly. Now? It sends gentle warmth, just like the bath, easing tension in his muscles, letting them ease. He doesn't relax as a rule. Theres some nonchalance in him, cockiness, but it's not the same as being relaxed.
For the most part it's to put other people off. This is wonderful.
It's like looking for a gold nugget under the dirt, or his smile, out from under all that blood. Happy to get her fingers dirty, just to find something that brilliant and shining. Smoothing away all the chips and flecks, just to find him.
She didn't know when she started thinking of him like that, but she wasn't going to question it right now. It was all she needed as she works her fingers against his upper arm on his uninjured side.
"You're not tearing those stitches." She scrapes her teeth on the side of her lower lip, looking over him. "... So you're going to have to take it slow. Doctor's orders."
He's not gold. Iron pyrite, perhaps, in a good light. She thinks too much of him, when she's smart and beautiful and funny. She always has been, been a bright light in the murky darkness of his life. He hasn't ever voiced that, he doesn't quite know how he should, or even if doing so would spoil everything forever.
But he's certain on one thing: his life is so much better with her as an integral part of it. He doesn't deserve her, but he'll hold onto her with both hands if he can.
"Is that the doctor that lost his licence to practise medicine or your orders?"
"Mine." She leans over, hanging above him teasingly. Or what she must be at least a little bit teasing, despite the exhaustion he must be feeling - her in nothing but underwear and stockings and big gaudy earrings. That little bit of wine still on her lips. "My orders are way more rewarding, I think you'll find."
Slowly, she cups water in her right hand and lifts it, to splash it languidly over his chest, to begin to wash away the soap bubbles. Reveal him clean below it that she runs her fingers over with no pretext of just enjoying touching him before she reaches the water, and once more cups the water to drip it over him in another section.
Oh it does tease him, terribly. Especially when she leans so close, the spark in her eyes just waiting to catch and, well, has Jacob ever been good at denying anything?
So as she leans in, he shifts, so he can catch her lips with his own. Brief, because the movement does make all his muscles scream in protest, and because if he tries to get away with anything else she'll no doubt tell him off.
But a little kiss? He owes her that much. More, in truth, but as the water splashes down his chest, followed by her hand, he knows he's probably going to repay some of that kindness soon enough.
Leaning into it with a smile, dragging her lips slowly over his languidly. Even if he'd protest the thought ( how different he was sometimes, it was never about proving with him, it was about giving, he always wanted to give, so, so much ), she knew he was too tired for more. It had been a long night. More so than for him, than for her. A lazy way she drags the affection in the gesture out from between his lips, her fingers slipping up his neck.
A little kiss? How could she protest that?
When she pulls back, she licks her lips, dragging her teeth slow over the skin. She never got sick of it. Never got sick of him. It never made any sense, in its way. She'd liked plenty of people. Good and bad, stupid and fun, thoughtful and cruel. But none of them made her whole heart tense up like his smile did when he turned it on her.
"Can't reach all of you."
It's a terrible excuse for what it is: an excuse to touch him. Reaffirm that he was alive and safe and not going anywhere tonight at least. She's going to lose him one of these days, she knows. This isn't made to last. But it was made to be good while it was. Her legs lift, and - doesn't bother to get out of her underwear, as she slowly dips her toes into the warm water, stockings and all. Sliding the rest of herself to follow. Navigating it all particularly, to make sure she didn't bump him, hurt him, but in turn: shifts her so she drops low and slowly begins to crawl her way up to his body through an idle drift in the water until her knees shift to settle either side of his hips. A little nudge as light as she can possibly make herself, she settles into his lap. "Okay?"
Because her needs right now didn't mean anything, if he was even a little bit hurt by her. Not even letting herself sink down completely just to make sure, as the water laps around her chest.
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no subject
But despite the pain, and it is a lot of pain, he's damn glad she knows what to do. Even without knowing about her father, somehow he'd known that Angel would know what to do. She was sensible, practical, smart, but she was all of that while still being fun. Something his sister had never actually managed to do.
"Don't give me that. I know what you're fond of." He adds, before her lips brush his skin and he knows she's ready. The wood goes between his teeth and he tries to focus on anything other than the sharp pinpoint pain of the needle, the tug of the thread. But it's over soon enough.
Well, not soon enough, not by half, but it becomes clear that she's done and he can only be grateful for that, pulling the wood from his mouth.
"Can I have a whisky now? Please?"
no subject
The rest of the work is done in focus - and she keeps a commentary, small hushing words to give him anything other than the pain to focus on. Okay, one, I don't think it'll take more than six, so, five more to go. He's doing really good. Just a little bit more, she just needs him to hold still, that's all, it's going to okay -
The stitches are neat. She'd had a lot of practise when Nisha or Wilhelm when they were slammed down on the kitchen table. Or the nearest flat surface. He's still bleeding, he would be for a while, but it was finally starting to slow as she closed the skin back together.
When it's finally over, he thankfully only has to endure one more wipe down of antiseptic, before she covers the whole thing with gauze and medical tape to cover it from further infections. But before he gets any kind of whiskey, she fishes out the antibiotics for him to take. Painkillers as well. Good stuff, the kind you have to ask a doctor pretty please for across counter.
"Two now, two tomorrow morning." She sets it down, next to him. Pacing around the room to get him what he asked for - well, she supposed some whiskey couldn't hurt him, even if she knew it wasn't a great idea, hadn't managed to kill anyone else yet. After that, she started running a bath, clean up the worst of him and soak his sore muscles.
With the whiskey set down for him and the water running, she lets him take the minute whilst she cleans up. Wiping up blood from the door, her table, from the floor. Practised to that process as she was to stitching him up. Until, despite him still sitting on her table, there was nothing left but him to prove anything had happened at all to the naked eye.
Bundling up his torn up clothes, she tosses them into the bin to burn later. Takes the minute to get out of her trappings from the night out, pulling off earrings and bracelets to dump on her vanity for the time being. Before she comes back out to him, and that glass of wine she never finished. Picking it up to take a big mouthful, touching him on the shoulder as she passes to stand in front of him again. "Hey, the bath's almost done."
no subject
"I've ruined your night, haven't I?" He asks, not sure if she's back from a party, or ready to go out. The truth is though he's bled on her, he's probably forced her to sober up far more than any pretty girl should have to on a Friday night.
He'll have to make it up to her, although how is what he'll have to think about. It won't be for a little while, of that he's certain as he eases himself off the table, trying to be useful, trying not to be more of a hindrance. She knows him well enough to know he can't sit still, not for very long, not even when he's literally just been sown up. His arm hurts, but the whisky burns a little hotter as he knocks it back, and he lets himself slowly come down from the pain and adrenaline that he's run on for the last hour.
"I'm more of a shower guy," He adds, as she mentions the bath, but he knows it's meant for him, and he's grateful. He just also knows that getting his arm wet is not on the cards, so he can't sink right under the water and let the muck of the evening wash off him. But he heads towards her bathroom, shedding the jeans and boxers, tugging them off with his one good hand. She's seen it all before, he's not shy, and he's certain she'll come with him, if only because she still seems to be in nurse mode.
no subject
It lets her sigh out a bit of laughter. "It's fair for all the good nights you give me." Being light with it, tossing the concern away like that. She finishes off her wine, in a deep mouthful, setting it down empty when he steps away, shrugging a little bit, "wasn't really anything going on tonight anyway."
He... still looks like hell, when her eyes follow him away. Getting undressed as he goes. But he's still handsome, still the only guy she could bother to look at when he walked into the room. The way she wanted to scratch her nails into his back when she saw him with anyone else even when - she didn't have a right to, really.
And - she'd always enjoy watching him, in some little way. Comfortable walking half undressed in her room.
( There was probably something to be said, something Evie or Maya would give her a look about, over the table if she said it out loud, if she asked what that means. Wanting someone the same way, over and over again. But she wasn't going to ask what it meant - and neither was Jacob, and that was just fine with her. )
Wait, did he say something? Eyes up, Angel. "Sorry, you are so not getting that wet right now. I put way too much work into that shoulder." She teases instead back.
Not so much later, just as he thought, she's there in the bathroom with him. She's nowhere near his state. But after all that, there is blood all over her hands, up her arms and smudged on her clothes where she'd been holding him. So that as he undresses so does she a few minutes later, pulling the little black bit of nothing over her head and dropping it onto the floor. Sweeping all their clothes away into a pile at the side of the room with her foot as he steps away.
A few moments later, she's close to him again. Not to follow him in the water, he needed space to stretch out in there, and she didn't trust him not to get ideas if he thought he could get away with it.
Rather, once he's settled, she sits on the edge of the bath, comfortable next to him in just her underwear and stockings. Waiting until he's settled into the steaming water before she leans across him, to turn off the taps.
no subject
His eyes have closed, just for a moment, while all of that go through his head, and they open again once she seems to have make herself comfortable. Still half dressed, which probably means she isn't going to slip into the water with him, even if he asks nicely. He won't push it. He'd like to pride himself on always giving her a good time, and he already feels like that winning streak is over. Best not add insult to injury.
She's beautiful though, even perched on the edge of the bath in her underwear. Enough to make him grin at her and she turns the taps. He doesn't have to say anything in that moment, he can just enjoy the view, the perfect skin, the curves hidden but only just, the elegant limbs and gentle fingers. Fingers that have many more talents than he'd previously given her credit for.
He'd tried not to ever let her find out about what he did at the office as Evie had put it. He'd always wanted to keep their relationship simple. Sex and fun, dinner or drinks out, or both, without any strings. No one needed to unpack their baggage, no one needed to know too much.
Now in pretty much the most dramatic way he could imagine, all the cards are out on the table. And yet... this isn't bad. She didn't slam the door on his face. She'd helped him, more than he'd expected. He'd thought he'd have to sew himself up while she hovered and fretted. The fact she hasn't... well. He'd incredibly impressed by how calmly she managed all of that.
Like it was routine.
"So, Jack Darling huh?"
no subject
... Well she guessed, it was nice, either way. As he stretches out in the water, and she tilts her head, dropping her eyes a little to bit her lip. Didn't have to work it out, right now. Save it for another day.
What mattered right now was that he was looking a little better already. She shifts closer when it's all turned off, reaching over to find the liquid soap that was the other side of him. Maybe because then she doesn't have to look at him when he asks that particular question.
"Yeah. My dad." She doesn't really know where to start or end that part of herself, her life, a childhood spent learning things the hard way. "He didn't always run the Hyperion Corporation. Had to get there the hard way. Meant I got used to patching up his guys, in the middle of the night a lot."
no subject
"You're very good at it." He says, aware that without her he'd have done it himself, and make a complete mess of it. But they both know that and so there's no need to say it. And there's no need really to dwell on the news of who her father is, although he feels like he wants to ask her really?. That's like saying Al Capone was your grandfather.
Or something.
It's quite clear that she doesn't want to talk too much about it, and he understands that much at least. He doesn't talk about his family, and she knows Evie. But as Angel has never once mentioned her dad before now, then he'll let it rest. They're all too tired, and he knows he is barely thinking straight.
"You sure you want me around for a few days? I don't want to get underfoot."
no subject
"Well, been doing it since I was ten. Took some courses from this Doctor that had his license suspended that Jack had on his pay. Guess it paid off." She laughs as she brushes against his neck, splaying her fingers wide.
Alright, maybe she just didn't mind touching him, no matter what the reason was. "And I don't know... " she tilted her head, teasing, giving him something other than pain to think about. "... Think I can find enough reasons to make you stay in bed, getting rest?"
no subject
For the most part it's to put other people off. This is wonderful.
"If I'm in bed with you, I won't be resting."
no subject
She didn't know when she started thinking of him like that, but she wasn't going to question it right now. It was all she needed as she works her fingers against his upper arm on his uninjured side.
"You're not tearing those stitches." She scrapes her teeth on the side of her lower lip, looking over him. "... So you're going to have to take it slow. Doctor's orders."
no subject
But he's certain on one thing: his life is so much better with her as an integral part of it. He doesn't deserve her, but he'll hold onto her with both hands if he can.
"Is that the doctor that lost his licence to practise medicine or your orders?"
no subject
Slowly, she cups water in her right hand and lifts it, to splash it languidly over his chest, to begin to wash away the soap bubbles. Reveal him clean below it that she runs her fingers over with no pretext of just enjoying touching him before she reaches the water, and once more cups the water to drip it over him in another section.
no subject
So as she leans in, he shifts, so he can catch her lips with his own. Brief, because the movement does make all his muscles scream in protest, and because if he tries to get away with anything else she'll no doubt tell him off.
But a little kiss? He owes her that much. More, in truth, but as the water splashes down his chest, followed by her hand, he knows he's probably going to repay some of that kindness soon enough.
no subject
A little kiss? How could she protest that?
When she pulls back, she licks her lips, dragging her teeth slow over the skin. She never got sick of it. Never got sick of him. It never made any sense, in its way. She'd liked plenty of people. Good and bad, stupid and fun, thoughtful and cruel. But none of them made her whole heart tense up like his smile did when he turned it on her.
"Can't reach all of you."
It's a terrible excuse for what it is: an excuse to touch him. Reaffirm that he was alive and safe and not going anywhere tonight at least. She's going to lose him one of these days, she knows. This isn't made to last. But it was made to be good while it was. Her legs lift, and - doesn't bother to get out of her underwear, as she slowly dips her toes into the warm water, stockings and all. Sliding the rest of herself to follow. Navigating it all particularly, to make sure she didn't bump him, hurt him, but in turn: shifts her so she drops low and slowly begins to crawl her way up to his body through an idle drift in the water until her knees shift to settle either side of his hips. A little nudge as light as she can possibly make herself, she settles into his lap. "Okay?"
Because her needs right now didn't mean anything, if he was even a little bit hurt by her. Not even letting herself sink down completely just to make sure, as the water laps around her chest.