Fic: Very Very Frightened
Title: Very Very Frightened
Characters/Pairings: Mary/Joe
Word Count: 503
Prompt: Joe and Mary, her patching him up in the back room after he gets in a fight.
Disclaimer: Mary is mine, Joe belongs to the actor who plays him. I'm making zero money off this.
Mary knew she wasn't particularly strong. Hell, the first story her grandmother had told her was how they were scared she was going to die just a few days old because her immune system was so poor. She'd never been good at putting on weight and had to ask Mom to explain what “anorexia” was 'cos the school doctor thought she had that. Sports education was the only class she completely and utterly failed in because she'd trip, get knocked over or have a ball hit her and the bruises would last for days.
Ten years later and she still wasn't healthy. Crying easily over nothing, having to clench her eyes shut for the first few moments of the strobe lights coming on otherwise she'd feel blind, nausea, headaches, panic attacks, money slipping away because she'd collapse if she got out of bed...
But there was Joe. He did something to her. Nothing illogically sappy like in the movies where they learn to live again because the manic pixie dream girl was just so damn hot, but he made her laugh and when he stroked her tense shoulders with his mouth she felt all light and loose.
So it was only right that when neither Mike seemed to be around and Linkara had informed her Joe was outside and looked alive but pretty badly beaten up, she'd ovary up and take care of him.
Dragging him to the first aid box in the back-room, she noted it was fucking hard to walk in heels and hold up a much heavier guy at the same time. She practically threw him on the floor as she was so exhausted and had to sit to get her breath back.
Luckily he managed to sit up by himself. “Sorry,” he slurred through the blood and most likely the booze. “You mad at me?”
She shook her head, not totally trusting her voice to give him the answer he wanted, and got to work with the gauze.
Smug enough to leer at her, or maybe trying his hardest to lighten the tension the only way he knew how, he spoke again. “You'd make a damn sexy nurse.”
Her wrist shook and she lowered her arm, trying to stop the tears from forming. Ovaries, remember? She was supposed to be the strong one this time. “Don't?”
He was smart enough to drop the lech act. “Do I worry you?”
Constantly, she wanted to say. She was worried he'd die, worried he'd disappear, worried he'd wake up one day and realize he'd been wasting his life with a fragile slut who acted more porcelain than debauched. Instead she just nodded.
He grabbed her hand that was so tiny in comparison with his two large ones and gazed heavily into her eyes. “Then I promise not to get into fights any more.”
Giggling that was neither sarcastic or hysteria bubbled up in her throat and she kissed his scarred cheek with affection. “Liar.”