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yellowsugarwords · 6 years ago

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Walking Dead Game FanFiction - “The Nurse and Her Stitches

Title: The Nurse and Her Stitches Characters: Clementine, Marlon, Louis Summary: After Marlon gets a wound on his chest while hunting, Clementine offers to help clean and stitch it up for him. What she doesn’t expect, is Marlon trying to kiss her during the process. Author's Note: omg okay ALSO I didn't wanna write about stitches because tbh the way the plot worked out didn't make sense to stitch up the wound. Forgive meeeee I think it works better this waaay Requested By: Anonymous support me with ko-fi ♡ ---------♥️♥️♥️----------

“Marlon, you idiot!” was not the first thing Marlon expected to hear upon returning to Ericson after a failed hunting session. Louis had taken one of the blonde’s arms and swung it over his shoulders, lugging him back from the hunting grounds when Clementine darted up the front walk to meet them.

“Good to see you too.”

“I told you to not get hurt.” Clem scoffed. “I told you to be careful.”

“Funny how things work out.”

She would’ve smacked him, but a part of her was worried it would make the arrow buried in his shoulder harder to get out or, even worse, would cause him more pain. “How did this happen?”

“I shot,” Louis began, deciding to take the metaphorical bullet — or, in this case, arrow — for his best friend. “I missed, and Marlon just so happened to be in my line of sight.”

Clem raised a brow. “Why were you aiming an arrow at Marlon?”

Clem slipped in at Marlon’s side, irritated as she forced one of his arms over her own shoulders and positioned herself to carry his weight. “I’ll take him from here.”

Louis didn’t debate. He stepped away almost too quickly and raised his hands in surrender. Marlon shot daggers his way, knowing why he did so, while Clementine blindly dragged the blonde to Ericson’s front doors, so she could tend to her.

Once they hit the office, Clementine released her grip as they wandered by his desk. “Sit.”

Marlon obeyed. He never wanted to argue when Clementine was frustrated, even though the situation that made her so wasn’t entirely his fault.

“Jacket off.” Clem said, popping open the first aid kit, focusing on pulling bits of fuzz off the bandage roll rather than invade Marlon's privacy by watching him. Clementine was often the one that helped Marlon when he was injured as she was often the one who pleaded with him the most to be careful. Everyone else foolishly assumed he always would. He was the leader, after all.

They were wrong.

Clem always saw past that. She didn’t see Marlon as the leader, she saw him as an equal. An equal capable of making mistakes, of getting hurt, and of being an idiot with his best friend while hunting. What could be, and should, expected of the average Ericson member.

“What happened out there?” Her back was still facing the male as she twirled her fingers through the fabric, unwinding the soon-to-be-used bandages, ensuring they were clean enough for use.

Marlon groaned as he peeled his jacket off as commanded, forcing himself to take a real look at the wound. The arrow jetting out of his shirt was disconcerting, so he turned away again. “You don’t need to worry about it.”

“Oh I do.” Clem said, content with the bandages and turning to the contents of the rest of the kit, eventually lifting it from its place and bringing it beside the male. “And I’m going to.”

“Clem--”

Marlon heard the tearing of fabric and the popping of the disinfectant bottle and snapped his mouth shut. Despite being the leader of Ericson, Clementine really knew how to control him. More than anyone, really. A part of him was jealous, wishing he could take control of a situation the way she could. He’d done it before, but he hated ever how it was his anger that took control rather than him actually being respected. But on the other hand, he just admired her for it.

Clementine never needed to worry about being respected. She was every time she walked into a room, which was hard to believe considering the hostility her and AJ faced when they first joined Ericson. Now, Marlon would argue they were the most respected and admired people at the school to date. He could never figure out how she did it - how she managed to appeal to so many so easily.

“Okay,” Clem said, her voice soft in comparison to its previously bitter tone. “I’m going to take out the arrow now, then I’m going to press this against it.” She lifted up a tattered piece of fabric.

Marlon squinted at the cloth through his pained, ragged breaths, then glanced at Clem’s shirt. Only then did he realize she’d torn a chunk of fabric off of her for him to use. He looked up at her, his gaze confused and conflicted. Why was she going so far out of her way for him? “That’s yours,” he finally said.

“Is that okay?” She finally asked, dipping her head in for clarity, knowing his answer wouldn’t sway her using it.

“You didn’t need to do that.”

Clementine proceeded despite his protest. She wanted his wound dealt with as fast as possible. She couldn’t imagine the pain he was in — despite Marlon hating showing it — and they needed to get it disinfected and wrapped as soon as possible. “I’m just trying to take care of you,” she said as she worked.

She placed a hand on his opposing shoulder, and her other set the folded compress cloth against his leg before gripped the end of the arrow. Then, taking a deep breath, she curled her fingers tighter and gave one, solid tug.

It popped out, but not without a wail from Marlon and blood spritzing the girl in front of him. Frankly, it was the least of her concerns. As quickly as she could, she grabbed the compress cloth and placed it against the gash. Her eyes fled to his, watching how they squeezed closed, trying to suppress his wails.

His lips squeezed, the cries of pain locked behind them. It caused any sound he made — any sound he tried to make — muffled and strained. Each jolt of his body and each pulse of the wound send another jab of pain into her own chest. How badly she wished he could just open up with how he was feeling. About how he was doing. He was always trying so hard to be the strong, tough leader that he forgot it was okay to be vulnerable.

“Marlon--”

He parted his lips and let out a wail through gritted teeth, and Clementine’s gaze grew more strained and terrified. In the midst of his pain, one of his hands lifted and settled on hers, keeping the compress in place. “I’m okay,” he forced out, even though Clem knew he was lying, and even though Marlon knew she knew. She could read him like a book — it’s part of the reason he wanted her there rather than Ruby.

Clem studied him skeptically before staring at their hands. It was warm and sweaty, probably from the agonizing pain she had forced him through, but it also felt like something else. It felt perfect. Right there where it was: on top of hers. With hers.

She snapped her gaze away. She didn’t have time to daydream. “Okay, uhm,” reluctantly, she slipped her hand out from under his own, instead using both of her palms to keep his hand in place. “I’m just going to grab the disinfectant, okay?”

Marlon’s eyes heaved open, tears forced to the corners, and Clementine could feel her chest cracking. Her hands lingered on his, hoping to make sure he knew how little she wanted to let go. He could tell. “Okay,” he said.

Clementine moved as quickly as she could, detaching from him and rummaging through the first aid kit to grab everything she needed — disinfectant, cotton pads, bandages, and moisture cloths. With everything she needed, she darted back to Marlon. “Okay, you’re okay,”

Marlon didn’t know if he believed that, but let Clem continue her work.

“I’m going to need to slip the shoulder of your shirt off,” she said. Frankly, she couldn’t believe the words were leaving her mouth. If she wasn’t so hyper-focused on keeping Marlon from losing too much blood, she probably would’ve blushed.

Marlon groaned in response, eyes winding closed again. Carefully, Clem pulled his compress away from the wound, peeled the stained fabric away from his skin, and tugged it away from his shoulder. “Okay, okay,” she repeated to herself, her breathing panicked and her movements jittery.

She took one of the wipes and brushed around the wound, cleaning as much of the dried blood as she could to get a better look. She could hear Marlon restrained groans, and could feel how his fists were squeezing his knees to distract him from the pain. She wanted nothing more than to hold his hand, but bit her lower lip as she forced herself to focus.

She lifted one of her cotton swabs, poured disinfectant on it, and took a deep breath. She set a hand on top of his and went in without warning. Marlon inhaled the moment it hit the wound, and she could feel him continue until she pulled away, done. “I’m so sorry,” she hushed.

Marlon exhaled, a relieved sigh. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine.”

Clem smirked as she reached for the rolled bandages. “Are you actually gonna be careful when you go hunting next time?”

Marlon smirked and shrugged, but only with his uninjured shoulder. He watched as she took a deep breath and, now that he wasn’t so drowned in his own pain, felt the quiver of her fingers as they touched his skin, starting to wrap him in bandages. “Why have you been so nervous doing this?” His finally asked.

His voice was tired and rough, and Clementine could tell he was exhausted. She couldn’t blame him. She shrugged as she worked. “I just worry about you.” She was met with silence. “It’s why I always tell you to be careful when you go hunting, even if you don’t do it.”

She could feel him chuckle, and she paused her wrapping to let the happy feeling float through him. “Why do you worry?”

“Because I know you, Marlon.” She scoffed playfully. “You act tough, but you’re a softie. You just want someone to care. And I do.”

The playful nature of their argument shifted, and Marlon’s stance changed. Clem was too focused on her work to dare look up and study him. “Why do you say that?”

Clem smirked. “I can tell, Marlon. I’ve seen my fair share of people who put on a tough facade while they’re hurting. I know that you try to be strong for the people around you, the ones that depend on you, and I know that you want to be vulnerable but don’t know how to be.”

Marlon studied her, mouth open, amazed at how observant she was. Amazed at how intelligent she was. Every day she found new ways to amaze him — new ways to prove to him that she knew him better than anyone.

“I want you to know that you don’t need to pretend around me,” she said softly, holding a part of the bandage as she wound it tighter. “I want to be strong for you just as you are for everyone else here.”

Then, in the midst of her work, and in the midst of her speaking, she felt a finger slip under her chin and pull her gaze up. The stare of Marlon’s that bore back at her wasn’t one she recognized — it wasn’t one she expected. It was soft, and gentle, and heated.

Then, without warning, he kissed her.

Clementine inhaled as his lips drew closer to hers, and could feel a gasp escape her as his pressed to her own. She couldn’t have helped it, though. Never in her wildest dreams did she think this moment would come: that Marlon would see her as anything more than just another Ericson member under his leading thumb.

Then he pulled away, wanting nothing more than to pull her back in for more. He restrained, needing to see how she reacted, what she thought, how she felt.

Clementine stood breathless, one of her fingers brushing at her lips, eyes wide and awed. Staring back at her, his expression was equally confused — debating whether he made the right call, if he’d freaked her out, if she was going to reciprocate.

She cleared her throat nervously, staring down at the bandages she’d abandoned for their moment and scrambled to finish them. “Should we go out and meet the others?”

Normally, Marlon would’ve called the response to his gesture a fail, but seeing the way pink hugged her cheeks he was on the fence about if he would dare call it that.

His gaze was soft and vulnerable as she finished up and pulled away, as if he’d opened his chest out to her and was waiting for a response. Tugging his jacket over his shoulders, he nodded. “Sure,”

And, as she made her way to the door, she paused and held out her hand to him.

Marlon paused, stared at it, and shifted his gaze back to her. All she could do in response was smile. Gleefully, he slipped his hand into hers, lacing their fingers, feeling the warmth that flooded through him at her touch. Then, he knew it was a success. ---------♥️♥️♥️----------

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