"OWW!!"
She recoiled and then rolled her eyes, smacking my arm. "Shut up, Doyle. I haven't even touched you yet."
"Half demon's are sensitive." I insisted, hissing in my breath as she pressed the alcohol soaked pad to my wound.
"Oh,yeah, you are the model of sensitivity." She muttered dryly. "You baby. Look, Angel never complains."
I narrowed my eyes, and shut my mouth. Damn that girl's good. She knows all she has to do is mention that brooding hunky vampire mentee of mine, and I'll shut up. I'll always shut up.
Half demon or not, this always friggin' hurts like hell. I have absolutely no idea how I got pulled into the manual labor part of the gig, cause I figure those damn migraines are enough to qualify me for workers comp.
And yet, here I am, a damn hole in my stomach because, like an idiot, I followed Beavis the lost vampire into battle.
Why did I even come here?
"I can't clean it. Doyle, take off your shirt." I looked up, my eyes surprised. Cordelia's beautiful eyes merely stared at me impatiently.
Waiting, she cocked an eyebrow. "Well? Do it, I don't want to be here all day, and this bloody gross work is SO not my idea of a good time, so get your damn shirt off."
"Tempting offer." I remarked, to which I recieved a smack on the other shoulder. Wincing, I obeyed, and then I froze. What the hell?
Cordelia had moved forward, and damn did she look beautiful today. She was wearing this little tank top,, cause she had taken off her sweater as soon as she had seen Angel half carry me in.
She began to unbutton my shirt for me, and I felt my heartbeat accelerate so hard I had to gulp. No, no. This was way too fantasy worthy for me not to react in the most embarrassing places.
I gulped and grabbed her hand. "I can do it." I said quickly.
She shrugged, pulling back. "Then hurry, you moron."
I hurried, despite the amount of pain I was in. As I pulled the shirt off, I stole a look at her. She was sitting, looking bored, and almost disgusted. But ever so subtly, she would look at me, glance at my eyes, and then she'd look away.
I hid a smile. That girl liked to hide behind masks, she did. She would always complain, loudly about the amount of blood that Angel and I both had to make her clean up, but she never flinched, always got the gauze and the pad and patched us up.
Then she'd go back to complaining.
"Done."
"Finally." She breathed, not wasting a minute before she pressed the pad back on my chest.
"OWW!" I grabbed her hand. "That hurts!"
"You are such a baby." She reiterated, trying to pull her hand back. I wasn't letting go. Ain't no way I was letting her touch me with that again.
She pulled again. I just held on tighter. Her eyes bored into mine, her face expressionless. Finally she sighed,and transferred the gauze to the other hand.
"ouch." was I all mustered, not willing to let go of her hand.
This time a small smile came to her face as she tenderly cleaned the wound. I stopped talking, just watched as quietly she cleaned at the cut. She bathed the area tenderly, sliding across my skin like a feather, and then she leaned forwatd so her hair brushed against my chest, and she blew on it.
A shudder went through my body.
She looked up, for a moment confused. "That hurt?"
"Uh. .yeah." I stuttered quickly.
She merely shook her head, rolling her eyes almost fondly as she continued to clean it.
"Oh, eww." she breathed, grimacing as she threw the blood soaked gauze to the side, picking up a clean one.
"I don't know why you do this." She commented wryly, her voice soft.
"What do you mean?" My voice got a little husky, cause she was still moving her hand over my chest.
"You're gonna get killed out there."
I looked up, my eyes surprised. Was there concern in her face?
"And that's why I come home to you." I said simply. "You always fix me."
She stilled then, looking up at me, for a moment she saying nothing. I guess I let a little too much feeling in that, because she blushed, looking away.
Then she gave me one small tender smile, and for a moment all I could do was stare into her eyes, I felt my chest go up and down at the flutter of her hand against it.
Angel called, and the spell was broken. Damn bastard. I mean he's a good guy and all, but he always seems to call at the most inopportune times. She looked at the freight elevator, where he was bellowing about not finding the toilet paper or something or other, and she rolled her eyes. I felt her hand slide down away from my skin, and suddenly she was the same old vixen as before.
"Okay,you're done. Doyle." She said briskly, wiping at her hands with a towel. "Stop trying to kill yourself, okay? One of these days I'm going to get blood on my clothes and you're gonna have to buy me a new set. And two more as down payment for the next time."
"Good as done." I drawled, and she rolled her eyes, smiling that smile that means she's amused against her will. Using that Queen C stroll, she got up and strode to the freight elevator, her voice high and off pitch as she yelled back to Angel to hold his damn horses, he could wipe his ass soon enough.
I grinned watching her go up, wincing at the cut. Damn it friggin' hurt. I looked back up at her disapearing figure, fingered the patch she applied and leaned my head back, closing my eyes as I inhaled the scent of the perfume that she had left behind, wafting around her.
I was a glutton for punishment, and I was an idiot, cause already I was thinking about the next time I was gonna get hurt, the next time I'd see the look of concern on her face, half hidden by her disgust that was left as soon as she saw the wound and applied her tender fingers to it.
Okay, I have it bad. Who cares? It's worth it to see that look in her eyes, to feel those fingers grazing my skin, to know that for just that minute or two, all she's thinking about is me.
She makes me strong, makes me brave. Could be for the wrong reasons, but it's better than the altenative,than bein' a coward. I'm not no more.
When she touches my wounds, cleans me up, I see the admiration in her eyes, the gentle concern, all I can think of... is maybe I never was.
FIN