#im stealing the world for my nefarious oc x oc content

[shadow--writer]

How the Heartaches Come and They go and the Scars They're Leaving, You'll be Dancing Once Again and the Pain will end

this chapter made me hurt my own goddamn feelings and ABBA did NOT MAKE IT ANY BETTER. Here’s the title. The song slaps so hard

Maeve x Lucas. What do you do when the doctor is sick? 6.4k

TW: grief, terrible coping, mentions of death. Apologizes to folks who feel pain they read about, I wrote Maeve’s headache with a headache. SICK FIC

@dela-png

It was cold. Odd considering the unrelenting heat of the past few weeks. 

Letting out a soft whine, a headache slowly built up behind her eyes. 

She couldn’t think right, it was all tinged with an edge of black as she opened her eyes. Her legs were tucked between Lucas’, his lips in her hair. Judging by how softly he was breathing, he was still asleep.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself back to sleep to keep the headache at bay. 

No luck, she was up. 

She groaned, pressing her forehead against his collarbone. The headache started behind her eyes and spread along her face, it hurt to even think. She sniffed the breath sending sparks of pain through her skull. 

Sinus infection? Gods she hoped it was only a sinus infection. Stars above it hurt. 

Trembling, she extracted herself from Lucas’ arms. Maybe, if she was fast enough, she could start on the mess she made in the kitchen before he woke up. The small bundle of fur at the edge of the bed mewed when she moved.

And maybe she could figure out a way to feed Jolie as well. 

She pressed a soft kiss against his forehead. He didn’t have a fever anymore, just a small sunburn along his nose. She shifted away from him and softly called to Jolie. 

The room spun as soon as she got to her feet, her breaths coming out in soft gasps. Her dress was heavily wrinkled, dust clinging to the back of it, making her cough. Her throat hurt. Well, everything hurt. 

Sighing, she pressed a hand to her forehead, hoping to cool herself off and ease the headache. Jolie followed at her heels, the house was a bit warmer when she wasn’t alone. Jolie meowed, loudly, hopping up on the counter as they entered the kitchen. 

She scratched behind Jolie’s ears, chuckling a little to herself. “Yes yes I know. The lady hungers.” Her voice was rough and nasally, even to herself. She winced, the movement a stabbing pain. She hissed through her teeth, biting her cheek. Jolie rubbed her head against her hand, purring a little. 

“I’m…” she swayed a little. Ugh the infection was hitting her pretty hard. It was hard to focus. “...sure Lucas has something for you somewhere,” she said, opening the cabinets up to look. Jolie meowed, moving along the counter and under a closed cabinet door. 

She giggled a little, petting the cat. “Smart kitty,” she whispered, shutting the doors she opened previously and opening this one. There was a bowl with Jolie’s name painted on it, loopy and messy. 

Standing on her tiptoes, she teetered backwards as she tugged the bowl down off the shelf. She caught her balance, her headache twisting like a knife as she set the dish in front of Jolie. She meowed once, before leaving Maeve be. 

The kitchen was...a bit of a mess, to say the least. There was blood on the counter and on the knife. 

She sighed, rolling up her sleeves that had come undone during the night. 

Digging around another cabinet, she grabbed the jar of coffee grounds and put a pot of water over the stove. She waited for the water to boil, scrubbing the knife and cutting board in the sink. 

When the water on the stove started to boil, she turned it off and eye balled the amount of coffee grounds she was pouring in.

She gritted her teeth together as the headache made her stomach roll. 

Once she was sure the coffee was ready to boil, she went back to cleaning the counter. Ignoring her headache and how badly she shivered. 

Jolie meowed, the pain sharpening as her head whipped up at the sound. 

Lucas rubbed the back of his head, leaning against the doorframe.

“Morning Firefly,” he murmured.

Her legs wobbled as she smiled at him. “Coffee’s on the stove,” she said, her voice coming out a bit slurred.

His brows creased at her voice, moving closer to her. She stumbled into him and he pressed the back of his hand to her forehead.

“Thumbelina, you’re burning up.” 

“Mm fine.” She pushed away from him, her head splitting open with the movement. She squeezed her eyes shut, letting the wave of pain pass. She cracked an eye open, holding her thumb and index finger apart. “Just a tiny fever.”

He pressed his thumbs on the corners of her eyes, she leaned into the touch. 

“Burning up is burning up,” he said softly.

“I’m fine! I promised I’d help you clean today!” She puffed her cheeks out in a pout. “And I’m not letting some dumb fever stop me!”

He kissed her forehead, scooping her up off the floor. She yelped, arms going around his neck.

“Lucas,” she whined.

He ignored her, nudging the door open. She let out another whine, burying her face in his neck. Her head ached at the movement. “I wanna help!”

“You can’t do much when you’re burning up,” he replied. “Now it’s my turn to take care of you.”

He set her down on the bed, the jostling made her let out a whimper of pain, the room spinning and the edges of her vision going dark. 

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, brushing her hair back from her forehead, inspecting her face. His brows were all creased with worry. “I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

She chewed on her lower lip as she watched him for a moment, her headache making it hard to do anything but space out. He was cute when he was worried, face all scrunched up as he patted her down for injuries. He paused on her hands, her attention being brought to how much they hurt, fresh blood spotted on the already bloody bandages. 

Guilt ate her up inside as he lifted her hands up from her sides. She trembled in his hold, feeling a bit sick as she looked at what she did to herself. She was useless. She wondered why anyone liked her enough to stay with her when she could barely even take care of herself. 

He kissed her palms, whispering softly to the marred skin. The web of scars on her palms, rough under his soft touch. “I’ll help you patch up, and then we’ll get you into something clean.”

“Then I can help!”

He sighed, holding her hands to his face. “You’re sick.” 

She squished his face, puckering her lips back with a giggle. “And you’re handsome, what’s your point? I’m gonna help you clean. Even if I gotta do it in secret so you won’t know!” she said with a lopsided smile. She was so woozy her filter was coming off. 

He kissed her hands again, getting to his feet. She kicked her legs, watching him go. He came back after a moment with gauze and disinfectants. 

And bandages. 

He knelt down by her legs, slowly peeling off the blooded adhesives off her fingers. She hissed through her teeth, staring at the bloody mess. 

He only hummed, cleaning them off gently with a damp cloth. The wounds were still raw, she couldn’t really do much when she had him to worry about. He rubbed disinfectant into her skin before wrapping a bandage over the cuts. 

He kissed her fingertips, looking up at her through his lashes. Her gaze darted away as heat flooded her cheeks.

She chewed on her lower lip as he tilted her head back to look at him. 

“Thank you,” he whispered as she cupped his cheek. He leaned into the touch as he looked at her. “For helping me.”

She ran the pad of her thumb over his lower lip. “Says the person helping me.”

He chuckled, turning her hand over and kissing the inside of her wrist. “Only because I got you into this mess.”

She giggled, kissing the tip of his nose lightly. “Well that’s true.” She smoothed his hair back, the curls soft beneath her fingers. Her headache was a dull pound behind her eyes. “I’m...sorry if I was a little mean yesterday. I was...scared.” 

He sighed, nudging her legs apart to sit between them and rest his arms on her thighs as he looked up at her. “Well, you were a bit mean.”

She flicked the tip of his nose with a soft smile. “Your dusty ass house will be the death of me.”

“Hmm if you’re too sick to help me clean.” He smiled a little. “Might have to put it off a while until you get better.”

She glowered at him. “Nuh ah. We’re cleaning today. We’re cleaning.”

He reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Fine. But you’re doing something easy.”

She kissed his forehead. “I’ll do laundry to keep you company. Wash the sheets and fold.”

His laugh made her smile. “Okay. That...sounds good.”

“I already cleaned the counter. But um...dishes are still not done.”

He got to his feet, helping her up. The headache made itself known, making her stumble. 

He let her gather herself before looking at the dust caked to the hem of her dress. “First let's get you into something clean so you don’t get sick again.”

She smoothed her hands down the fabric, leaning against him as she looked down at herself. “Mm. I’ll...wash this too.” 

He helped her out of his chest, checking her temperature and making a face. She knew he didn’t like her being up and about with a headache and a fever, but he was going to have to deal with it. “You can borrow one of my shirts.”

“Mmm borrow is a funny word,” she murmured. 

He helped her unlace her dress, letting her pull it off while he dug around the drawers of his dresser trying to find something clean for her. 

“Come on Firefly, arms up.” He tapped her arms, helping her raise them. 

“You’re cute when you’re worried,” she said with a little hum as he pulled the shirt over her arms and head. It fell down her shoulder, he pulled it back up and tightened the drawstrings. 

“This is a dress on you,” he muttered, tying the drawstrings into a bow. It would still fall down her shoulder but it was better now. 

She reached up to smooth out the creases between his brows, giggling at the shock in his eyes when he met hers. 

“Very cute.”

He stared at her for a moment, his shirt falling just above her knees. She felt like a kid playing dress up, but his smile came fast and soft. 

He kissed her cheek, then the other. She giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. “We have to start,” she whispered as he kissed the tip of her nose. 

“Oh dusting can wait one minute,” he replied with a cheeky grin. 

She covered her mouth with a hand, wrinkling her nose at him as he moved to kiss her, kissing the back of her hand. 

He moved away. “No kisses,” she said, wiggling out of his grasp. “Don’t wanna get you sick. Again. That would be bad.”

He kissed her cheek, only holding her closer. She squeaked. “I’ll risk it,” he murmured. 

She pushed his face away, giggling. “No! I don’t wanna get you sick again! I’m contagious!” 

She ignored her headache as they toppled onto the bed in a pile of limbs. She scooted to sit up away from him, sticking her tongue out as he rested his chin in his hand. He stuck his tongue out at her as well, wiggling closer to her. 

The shirt fell off her shoulder as she looked at him. “No.”

“Please?”

“No!” 

He sat up, wrapping his arms around her waist and tugging her closer, making her squeal. She pursed her lips and looked away from him. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, kissing her softly there. 

She let out a tiny squeak, her skin buzzing as he smiled. His touch was gentle as he kissed up her neck and the underside of her jaw. 

“You’re minute’s up Giant,” she breathed as he kissed her jaw and cheek. “C’mon! We have to go! I left the stove on! There’s coffee!” 

He only laughed, kissing the corner of her mouth. She sulked, trying to wiggle out of his arms. “Lucas,” she whined, tugging on his arms. “Stop trying to seduce me and let go!”

He stopped, arms going slack. She tumbled forward with a yelp, falling face first into blankets. “Seduce you?” he asked as she turned over. He moved her legs into his lap. 

She glowered at him. “Don’t think a few well placed kisses will distract me. Your minute is up buster. My headache isn’t gonna go away by itself. And you have things to clean!” 

He rolled his eyes with an affectionate smile. She could see something start to brew in his eyes. Today wasn’t going to be easy. 

She knew that. 

She looked at her freshly bandaged hands, at her scars.

She peered at him through her lashes, he was tapping out a beat to a tune only he knew against her calf.

Pushing herself up onto her elbows, she pecked his lips quickly before scurrying off the bed. 

He paused, touching his lower lip and looking at her. She smiled, ignoring her headache as she placed her hands on her hips. “There. You got a kiss. Now c’mon slowpoke. I gotta strip the bed.”

His smile was infectious and mischievous as he followed her off the bed. She laughed, dancing away from him as he chased her out of the room. 

He scooped her off the floor, hugging her close as he laughed in her ear. She snorted, and Jolie meowed at them. 

He set her down on the counter, curling her hair around one of his fingers.

She tilted her head, kissing the tip of his nose. “I cleaned the counter, but I still have dishes to clean.” She looked at the spoon on the floor and winced. “Also the floor and wall.”

He brushed her hair back, playing with it a little. “You just stay right here, I can handle it.”

“But it’s my mess!”

“A mess you made because of me.”

She sighed, leaning back against the upper cabinets. “I’m fine, Lucas. It’s a tiny sinus infection. I can clean up my own mess.”

He kissed her forehead, her skin was a little sticky with sweat. “Your fever got worse,” he murmured. “You should rest.”

She glared at him. “I’m not resting. I promised you I would help. This isn’t something you want to do alone.”

He patted her leg, but she saw the affirmation in his eyes. He dug around the cabinet under the sink, pulling out a clean washcloth. He was silent as he ran the cloth under cold water and wrung it out. The smell of coffee made her relax.

He placed the damp cloth over her clammy skin, her eyes snapping open to meet his. Worry creased his brows again. 

“You can stay,” he offered, voice a bit gruff. “But if your fever gets worse…”

She rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him. “I haven’t passed out, thank you very much.”

He winced, pulling two mugs down and using a ladle to pour coffee into them. He didn’t respond as he moved to get cream and sugar, holding them up in a silent question. She nodded, watching him finish up her mug and pass it over to her.

“Wait, you can have coffee right?” he asked as she held it below her nose. 

“Caffeine helps with headaches,” she said with a hum, enjoying the warmth of the drink. “Herbal teas help with fever. Along with water, of course.” 

“Do you want me to make you tea?” he asked softly, drying his hands on a nearby towel. 

“I’ll be okay for now,” she said with a smile. He pressed the back of his hand to her cheek, that worried (cute) look never leaving his face. “Lucas! I’m fine!” 

He brushed the skin of her cheeks with both thumbs, his face darting closer to hers. Her breathing hitched, heart skipping a beat. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever get used to him being this close to her. She liked it, but was unused to the reaction he stirred in her. 

He smoothed her hair back, moving away when he saw what he wanted to. She almost whined at the loss. His expression shifted from worried to something more...vulnerable. “What do you do when the doctor is sick?” he murmured, hand trailing down her shoulder and arm, gently cradling her hand as he moved away. 

She laced their fingers together, tugging him back to her. “Well,” she started as he looked at her. She dragged him back to her, him shuffling nervously. She beamed up at him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest. 

“Hugs are good.”

He chuckled, wrapping her up in his arms and tugging her close.

He kissed the top of her head, smoothing her hair down. She let out a happy hum, feeling much warmer now. 

He pulled away too soon, much to her disappointment. 

She pouted, making him laugh. “Oh don’t give me that look. Like you said, we have things to do today. You were going to do…” he tapped his chin, pretending to think. Her pout melted into a smile. Fuck she loved him. “Laundry was it?” He smiled, flicking the tip of her nose. “I simply must do something!” he said, making his voice reedier in an imitation of her, holding a hand to his forehead. 

She gasped. “I do not sound like that!”

He only laughed, moving away from her. 

“I don’t!”

“Sometimes you do.”

She made a face at him. “Yeah like you sound any better.”

Offense flooded his features and she smiled smugly. “Oh yeah look at me-” she lowered her voice, her throat making everything sound more gravely, but it worked. She sounded ridiculous. “-I’m Lucas and I get people bit by eels on the daily!”

“Hey!”

She giggled, breaking the facade. 

He made a face at her, but it was cracking under his laughter. 

“I don’t sound like that,” he said, petting Jolie. 

“Yes you do.”

“No I don’t!”

“Yes!”

“No!”

She giggled, putting her now empty mug down. Her headache was starting to fade which was nice.

He moved closer, ignoring their argument. “Did it help?”

Her gaze darted to the sink. No more dishes! “M-Mmmhmm!” she hummed, her heart skipping beats all over the place. He made a face when he checked her temperature again, she made one back.

“Fever is still there.”

“...maybe a little tea would be good.”

He laughed, moving in to kiss her. She made a show of shaking her head and pursing her lips, making him pout. 

She kissed his cheek. “Contagious? Remember?”

“It takes more than that to get me sick.”

She quirked an eyebrow with a wry look. He wilted a little under her gaze. 

“Hmph. Fine. But I will get a kiss eventually.”

She laughed. “C’mon now, super strong immune system. Let’s get to work.”

~~

The problem she found with laundry was the fact she had to do it outside. Washing was messy and not to mention hanging things up on clotheslines. She couldn’t go far in her condition, and Lucas was…

Against it. 

What if something happened to her and he wasn’t there to help? Kind of deal. 

It was not easy to convince him to let her be outside. His worry was sweet, but the dizziness that came with her headache was starting to fade. Coffee truly was a gift from the gods.

She knew he was checking up on her, looking out the window and coming down the stairs to say hello. Each time he walked down to talk to her, and give her something to eat, his hair got wilder and wilder. 

She stretched up onto her tiptoes, clipping the damp sheets onto the clothes line she had set up. The day was cooler, still hot, but cooler. The cloud cover was also nice. And the tiny breeze. Thank gods for the tiny breeze. The heat was almost sticky, making her want to lay on the floor and do nothing. 

But she made a promise. 

“You’ve been busy.”

Speak of the devil. 

Against her will, she felt herself brighten. She wondered how atrocious his hair would be this time. 

“I have,” she replied, not looking at him as she finished clipping the sheet to the line. The breeze knocked it back into her face, making him laugh. She made a face to no one in particular. “Granted it’s been fighting me the whole time!” She glared up at the sky, smiling at his laughter. He sounded a bit tense, she knew cleaning alone was taking a toll. 

“Aren’t you gonna look at me?” he joked. 

“Mmm I’m scared to see the rat’s nest.”

“Rat’s...nest?”

“Your hair, silly goose.”

“Ah, so I’m a goose now?”

“Hmm, a gander.” She finally turned around, smiling brightly. “I am the goose.”

He laughed, leaning against the doorframe. She was right about his hair, there was so much dust clinging to it she feared he’d turn the bathwater black. 

He saw the look on her face, his smile turning smug and amused. She wrinkled her nose at him, crossing her arms. 

She finally spotted the plate in his hands. 

“Oh! Is that a lemon?” she asked, curiosity outweighing her annoyance. She moved closer, almost singing out of happiness. Lemons helped with all sorts of things. Fever, sore throat, the like. 

And they were delicious. 

“You mentioned spice and lemons. So I brought the best thing I could.” He swatted her hand away, making her yelp. “Eat it like a hooligan in front of me again and you’re grounded,” he said, bending down slightly to be at eye level with her. She fought the urge to knock the dust out of his hair. “Got it?”

She pouted. “But-”

He tapped the tip of her nose, making her wrinkle it at the contact. “Absolutely not. I have seen a lot of weird food things in my time. That is the worst.” 

“You can’t ground me!”

His grumpy facade was cracking. She placed her hands on her hips, rising up onto her tiptoes to match him. Their noses pressed together, and this was a terrible awful no good very bad idea. 

“I can,” he said, a hint of laughter sneaking through. “And I will.”

Her eyes darted down to the lemon slices, calculating the risk. She had no doubt he would manhandle her back into the house if she did this.

But he would have to catch her to manhandle her. 

He realized what she was doing too late, the evil grin had crept onto her face and she snatched a lemon slice, dancing away from him. Her fever had gone down a tad, and with no dizziness? 

No problem. 

She stuffed the lemon into her mouth. He let out a curse, making her grin around the sour fruit. He set the plate down, she swallowed the lemon and ran into the thick of the hanging clothes. 

He chased after her, muttering about how vile that display was. 

She giggled, pressing her hand to her mouth to stifle the sound. She could see his shadow moving through the sheets and his clothes. She danced away from him, letting out little musical notes to taunt him. 

He moved a sheet aside for her shadow, making her laugh. 

“Don’t tear all my hard work down looking for me, Giant,” she teased. “And I thought with your height you would’ve found me already!”

“Well it appears hunting for trickster fairies is a bit harder than one might think,” he called back as she moved farther into the back, trying to keep her footsteps quiet. He wasn’t hard to avoid, the height and how loud he was.

She giggled. 

“First you made off with my shirt, and now you smuggled a lemon away.”

“Well you are very easy to trick,” she said. “Think about me at my full power! You’d never be rid of me!”

He laughed, she could see him move closer to the front door. Her face broke into a smile as she leaned against a blanket in the back. 

He went silent. Chewing on her lower lip, she moved to the clothes in front of her, looking past them. He wasn’t where he was before. 

Releasing her lip, she stood on her tiptoes to look again. 

Then she was picked up, his breath warm against her ear. Her breathing hitched, heart like a rabbit running amok in her chest. “Found you,” he whispered. “Little goose.”

“Honk honk.”

He snorted, her legs dangling as he carried her awkwardly to the door. “You finished here, right?”

“Yep!”

“Then you’re grounded.”

“Wha- HEY!” She kicked her legs, trying to wiggle out of his grip. “You can’t ground me! I’ve done nothing wrong! I’m being framed!”

He was laughing. She liked to make him laugh, she decided. She wanted to make him laugh all the time just to see him light up in the way he did. Besides, she liked being silly with him. It wasn’t prim and proper all the time with him. 

“Framed? I watched you commit the crime!”

“You have no evidence!”

“I watched you!”

“But you’d miss me too much,” she said, pouting as she looked up at him with pleading eyes. 

His look was wry. “I won’t miss the crime of eating lemons raw.” 

She gasped. “It’s no crime!”

His look turned teasing as he kissed her forehead. “Says the person who doesn’t cook.”

Her gasp turned more offended as she swooned. “Oh you wound me. Using my own weakness against me! The audacity, the horror. How will I ever recover from this blow to my pride!”

“I’m sure you’ll get over it.”

“Get over it?! Get over it?! Nay sir! I shall never! I will be enacting my revenge plot with friends on you soon enough!”

He was laughing too hard to reply. The fact he was carrying her all dangly like a cat was another “blow” but she didn’t seem to mind.  

He kissed behind her ear as he set her down on his bed. She tugged her boots off, placing them by her side before laying back. 

She saw the pile of clothes on the chair and sat up, her hair falling around her shoulders. “Are those clean?”

He looked over and nodded. 

She brightened. “Well since I washed and hung everything up to dry, mind me folding?”

He blinked in surprise. “I um, no?”

She giggled, getting to her feet. “Mind extending my grounding to the couch?”

He tapped his chin in thought. “Well…after that display of terribleness I’d like to say no.”

She jutted her lower lip out a little, clasping her hands and pleading with him. “Please?”

He cracked so fast under her gaze. “…fine. It…it’ll be nice to have you to talk to.”

She cheered, jumping up and down. He flushed at her reaction as she gathered the clothes on the chair. Some shirts had holes in them and they were wrinkled beyond belief.

He chuckled, helping her out. “You really don’t have to do this,” he said as they walked to the couch. She could see the progress he made with cleaning. There were still things in little piles, stuff she knew he couldn’t find a place for but didn’t want to part with.

She dropped the clothes in her arms on the couch, looking up at him. He wasn’t meeting her eyes, a flush climbing up his neck and face.

“Oh please,” she said. “I want to help you. That's why I offered.”

He looked back at her. She helped him set the clothes down, holding his hands and running her thumbs along his knuckles. His shirt slipped down her shoulder, his eyes flicking over to the movement.

She smiled, letting go of one of his hands and tilting his chin. “Eyes are up here, gander.”

His cheeks reddened. “W-Who’s trying to seduce who now,” he murmured.

She giggled, pressing a hand to her chest. “Oh leannán, you’d know if I was trying to seduce you,” she whispered, softly kissing his jaw.

He grunted, and she smiled. “You play dirty, little goose,” he said, eyes meeting hers. That delicious blue. She wondered what paints she’d have to mix to find the shade. She reached out, brushing his brows. He grabbed her hand, kissing her palm. “I don’t even get a real kiss and you start talking like that.”

“I am proud of you,” she said softly, he jolted, dropping her hand. She only smiled, sitting on the couch. 

“W-Why?”

She hummed, starting to sort the clothes before her. Shirts. Pants. So on. 

“I don’t need a reason to be proud of you, I just am. But…I know it’s hard. Letting go, I mean.”

“Letting go?”

She peered at him through her lashes. “You’ve only touched your bed, that chair, parts of the bathroom and the kitchen. One room is closed. Your house feels like a ghost. You haven’t really touched anything since they died.”

He flinched. 

She kept her tone soft. “Grá rúnda, I’m not dumb. I can see these things.”

“That’s a new nickname,” he muttered.

“It is, but don’t change the subject. I was trained to be observant.” 

He sighed, fidgeting with the bandages around his arm. She wondered about the scars below the cloth. 

Remembering the old plague cross and the fires…she didn’t have to wonder long. 

“I know I was…blunt.” He snorted, she flushed red. “But I am right.”

His head snapped up. “But-”

Her look was soft but stern. “Giant, living in a house pleading the ghosts of the past is no way to move forward and change. You think I don’t know this? I watched my father almost be broken because of the death of my mother.” She held her hands up, barring her heart for him. Willingly this time. “I watched it almost destroy me and my family. Mamaí was the light in my daidí’s life. But it’s…not the same.”

She set a folded shirt by her side, staring at the holes in the next one. She wondered if he had embroidery hoops. 

“I know it’s not,” she whispered, her voice deathly quiet. “But moving on, happens. Want it or not, it will happen eventually.” She chuckled without humour. “You just had it yelled into you by me.”

She watched him stare at his feet. 

“I loved my mamí. Hell, I look just like her. I...know she isn’t coming back. But I can hold onto fond memories, can’t I? She wouldn’t want me…living my life the way I did. Goddess, she’d be furious with how we took her death. She once threatened to murder my father with a tree branch don’t you know.”

He chuckled and she smiled. There he was.

“You get your spitfire from her,” he murmured.

She pursed her lips to keep from laughing. He wasn’t wrong. 

“She wouldn’t want me to live that way. She wouldn’t want my dadí to live that way. So would your family want you to live like that?”

He flinched, going quiet. His face slowly drained of colour. She bit her lip, hoping she didn’t cross a line.

His voice was barely audible. “No.”

“It’s your life to live,” she said, conviction strong in her voice. “So start living.”

He wouldn’t look at her, but his shoulders were shaking. He wasn’t crying, not yet. She moved off the couch and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his back. 

He held her hands tightly, his shaking in hers. She kissed his back through his shirt as he traced her scars, sending tingles down her spine. 

“What are these from?” he asked softly, voice thick with emotion. 

“Mirrors,” she replied, her voice sounding breathy even to her own ears. She could feel his confused look at her hands and she let out a small giggle, stretching up onto her tiptoes to kiss the back of his neck. His skin grew hot under her lips. “Story for another time.”

He kissed her fingers again, then her palms and wrists. Her heart was so loud, an ‘I love you’ at the tip of her tongue. 

She paused, kissing one of the visible scars on his shoulder. Now wasn’t the time for that. 

He didn’t need those words just yet. 

She laced their fingers together, squeezing his hands once before pulling away. While she knew she wasn’t ready to say it; she was ready to show it. 

“Oh! Do you have embroidery hoops?” she asked, looking over her shoulder. When he met her eyes she could see how grateful he was about the subject change. She knew this was hard, and as much as they acted like an...old married couple (her cheeks flushing red at the thought) he was still hurting. 

“If you don't, that's okay!” she finished with a smile. “I was just-”

“I do.”

“H-Huh?”

He smiled, it wasn’t forced, just a bit more emotional than usual. She hoped she didn’t cross a line. “I have a basket of...that stuff. My grandma used to embroider.”

“Oh. Oh! You...you’d let me use that?”

He nodded, moving inside the room she knew nothing about. A second bedroom? 

She wasn’t going to push it. 

He left the room with a basket, she could see hoops and embroidery floss. Her expression brightened.

“So, what are you gonna do with this?” he asked as she took the basket from his hands. 

Humming, she set a shirt on her lap, making a face at the amount of tiny tears in the hem of the fabric. She pulled out a larger hoop, doing her best to get all the tears in the hoop.

“What colour do you like best?” she asked, holding the floss up. 

He blinked at her ignoring his question. Then he looked down at the thread in her hands.

“Um…the dark blue? And the silver?”

She grinned, putting the rest of the colours back. “Why dark blue?” She looked back up at him. “Not the light blue?”

“I like the dark blue better,” he said with a little smile. He brushed her cheek with his knuckles, before moving away.

They worked together, with only her voice filling the quiet.

She talked about anything and everything. Her family, her adventures away from home. All of it. Stories from the clinic made him laugh the most.

Finally, he had plopped down on the couch next to her, watching her work.

She leaned into his side, his arm going around her shoulders as he kissed the top of her head.

She held up the shirt she was working on. She was almost done, with silver and dark blue dog paws climbing up the hem. 

“It’s lovely- wait, is that my shirt?”

“It is! I um…hope you don’t mind.”

His face was almost glowing when he looked at her. “Thank you, it’s cute.”

Her smile made her cheeks hurt. “I can show you the basics, if you’d like.”

“Basics? Of embroidery?”

She nodded, digging through the basket to pull out scrap fabric.

Moving slowly she slowed him how to put the cloth into the hoop, tightening and then handing it over to him.

“You thread the floss like this…then you knot it. Keep some space so it doesn’t fall apart.”

He nodded, nervously taking the needle. She dug around for a fabric pen and sketched out a simple design. A heart was how she started. It was fairly simple and you could do all sorts of stitches inside.

She kissed his cheek. “Try sewing along the lines I drew here. It’s like you’re actually sewing.” She showed him, poke the needle up, bring it down and so forth. “Be careful about pricking yourself.”

He nodded, tongue sticking out a little as he focused on the stitches. She snuggled into his side, finishing up the paws on his shirt.

“Like this?” he asked after a moment. She looked over at his work and smiled.

“Exactly! You’re doing great.”

His face flushed at the praise, staring at his hands. “Am I? I feel like my hands are a little…too big for this.”

She smiled, covering his hands with hers as she leaned against him. Her fever had gone down but she was still cold. 

She yawned a little. Of course now she was sleepy. And the headache was coming back.

“You’re…doing great,” she murmured with a sleepy smile. “Practice makes perfect! And your hands are fine. My dad knits don’t ya know. And he’s maybe a little shorter than you! He does just fine.”

He chuckled, kissing the top of her head. “You sound tired.”

“Mm not tired.” She yawned. “At all.”

He set his practice hoop down. She looked up at him, a question on her lips.

His smile was a little wolfish and a lot smug. 

Quickly, he kissed her. 

“Told you I’d get a kiss,” he murmured, kissing her cheek.

She blushed. “Idiot, you could get sick.”

He moved the folded clothes off the couch into a nice stack on the floor, the halfway done embroidery work she was doing on top. 

Yawning himself, he scooted down the couch (legs hanging off the end).

She was perched on his legs, grumbling to herself as he smiled.

“How about a power nap?” he asked, teasing in his voice. She made a face at him but shifted down and tucked her head under his chin. 

“Hmph,” she huffed, snuggling into his chest. 

She yawned again, closing her eyes. 

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“What? What for?”

She let out a happy hum. “For cleaning. I know…it’s hard.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry I caused you so much trouble.”

“Mmm I’m trouble too.”

He snorted softly, rubbing the back of her head and holding her close. “Well at least you’re cute, Trouble.”

She giggled softly, yawning again. 

“Sleep now, Thumbelina.”

“We have many nicknames.”

“Little goose?”

She giggled again. “Gander.”

He chuckled, letting out a soft sigh. “Get some sleep, Firefly.”

“O…‘kay.”

She knew she was falling. Falling down a deep pit with nothing to see or hear. She didn’t know how long she would fall, how far. How much it would hurt when she landed.

She just knew he’d be there to catch her when she finally found the bottom.

He murmured something to her hair as she fell asleep.