[o26] dollhouse: pain for pleasure
Title: Pain for Pleasure
Author: honeychuckles aka In Fair Verona
Pairing: Topher/Claire
Rating: T
Summary: To her, its this insignificant little thing, nothing but a scratch at the surface. To him, its the biggest thing that's ever happened; like a knife straight to the heart.
This is actually not a part of The Chronicles of Awkward. Just a separate one-shot I had an idea for, the tone of which would not have fit into the aforementioned fic.
"Let me get this straight." Claire Saunders eyes the blonde boy sitting on top of her work table scrupulously, eyebrows furrowed in a mixture of disbelief and disappointment which is making him, Topher, even more embarrassed for being there in the first place.
"Victor gets a piece of schrapnel stuck in his leg from a roadside bomb in Afghanistan. Boyd gets an wound from the arrow of a man-hunting predator. Adelle got shot in the side during Reed's wiping. November's got bruises on her neck from the guy who did horrible, horrible, things to Sierra, so I won't even get started on the physical abuse she's been through... and Echo!" The doctor laughs, shaking her head, "Every week she's getting into some kind of trouble which requires my attention, and let's not forget the eye surgery." Claire takes a deep breath, pushing back a stray lock of brown hair behind her ear.
"I have to deal with life threatening wounds on a daily basis, and you, you are here because of a paper cut?"
"Well, that's putting it lightly-" Topher insists, "It's a scrape."
"It's a scratch." Claire corrects.
"There was blood."
"I think you'll live."
"Come on, Doc, you're always waxing poetic about what it means to be human." Topher knows he's hit a sensitive spot, and he's almost pleased with himself when he notices the doctor visibly tensing, "Have a heart." Like a petulant child he holds out his palm, revealing the deep-set gash stricken across it.
Claire grabs his hand, in a way that is rougher than necessary, taking the time to inspect the wound. "You know, this wouldn't have happened if you just organized all your equipment. All those wires laying around, I've told you several times before, it's a safety hazard."
"Yeah, but you were more worried about the dolls getting hurt than me."
"I suppose I overestimated your motor skills at the time." Despite it being an insult, Topher smiles anyway and the doctor rolls her eyes in response because this always happens when she tries to bring him down a notch. "Where else?"
He doesn't respond, just points, or rather clasps his hand over his left shoulder with a wince.
"All right, take it off."
"What?"
"Your shirt." Claire deadpans, walking to her supply cabinet and retrieving a few supplies; gauze, rubbing alcohol, a tweezer and a few cotton balls for good measure. He feels nervous, but this doesn't seem to phase her in the least. Though, why should it? Claire's a professional.
His shirt is at the ground and she's at his side, placing her hands gingerly yet skillfully on his shoulder to inspect the damage. He knows he's being a big baby, he knows he could just slap a Spider-Man band-aid on it and go back to work, but it just seemed like a good excuse to see the doctor. To annoy her. He loved annoying her.
Claire never looks him in the eye, though he watches her like a hawk. At least, he tries to from the awkward angle he has to turn his head at. It kind of hurts his neck so he stops and settles on the ground.
"This is going to sting," Claire warns him, dabbing a cotton ball with the disinfectant. Before he even has a chance to protest she touches it to his shoulder and the stinging sensation is so immediate that without even thinking he grabs onto her arm for support. Now even she is surprised. "Topher," Claire breathes, "You can let go now."
"I don't want to."
"Topher." Claire means business this time, and he knows how she gets, so begrudgingly he lets go. The doctor grabs the gauze and tape, gently pressing the fabric against his wound, if you could call it that. "You really shouldn't be so clumsy." She's practically whispered it, but for the first time since he's been in there he's able to actually sense her concern. The gauze has been set for awhile, but her hands remain on his bare shoulder for a second longer than necessary, grazing his arm as she finally realizes what is happening and pulls away.
It's now cold where her hands used to be, and he feels as though he needs the heat. It's that intoxicating warmth that practically radiates off of her every time he makes her mad.
"Does that mean you'd care if something happened to me?" He asks, searching for her eyes, trying hard to meet the gaze that seems to set on avoiding him.
"Of course, I'd care." Claire replies quietly. "I mean, you're a human being, just like the rest of us. We feel pain. I wouldn't want anyone to experience that... that's why I'm a doctor."
"Wow, doc. You almost had me there." Topher sighs. It's that humanism which makes her so endearing yet so infuriating at the same time, because she's not concerned because he's Topher, she's concerned because he's human. "Sometimes all of your preaching about humanism isn't as kind as you think it is."
Finally, she's met him in the eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means..." He pauses, biting his lip as evidence of his own hesitation, "It means that you're hurting me more than a gun shot to the side ever will." He pauses, "No offense to Adelle."
"Topher..." Claire's too smart to play dumb in response to that one, so she surrenders to it. Admits to it. "Topher, it would hurt even more if... something were to..." Her hands find their way to his injured one, gently stroking the area around the gash. "...happen."
He's taken advantage of the fact that her hand is on his, and uses that as a means to pull her closer to him to the point where he's still sitting on her examination table and she's now standing in the space between his legs. It's a little too close for comfort, but that's the way he likes it - and he suspects it's the way they she does too. It's a part of that game they play, where they're so close yet so far away, so much and yet never enough. "I think I can handle whatever happens."
"You tripped over a wire and landed on one of your own computers." Claire reminds him in an attempt to bring them both back to reality. "...and, that reminds me, I still need to fix your hand..." He won't let it happen.
"I'll live." He reassures her quickly, before they close the distance. It's not one of those big, wet, sloppy ordeals. If anything it's just a soft graze, but in that sense, it's very him and it's very her. Noncommittal, but curious.
He wants to take things further, heck, he's fantasized about this exact moment for so long, with the examination table and everything. Except they'd both be on it. He briefly wonders if she's ever thought anything similar involving his chair, and before the new fantasies are allowed to form they're interrupted by more pressing matters. Oh, no, not those pressing matters - the real ones.
"Hey, doc! Do I need to take a number or something?" Echo (or some variation of her) is waiting impatiently at the door, hand over her forearm which is practically dripping in blood. "I got into a little bike accident. I mean, I only feel like I'm about to pass out from blood loss. No biggie."
"Oh my god," and the moment's over and ever the professional, Claire resumes activities which are actually listed in her job description. "Topher, get out of here." Claire practically pushes him off the table with little regard before bringing Echo in and plopping her down in his place. Admittedly, his hand still stings a little but as he makes his way back to his own respective office, he can't help but be grateful for the little bit of pain.
It's the pain that reminds them both that he's human, and to know that he is still human is what allows her to like him, despite their differences. Despite her better judgement.
Author: honeychuckles aka In Fair Verona
Pairing: Topher/Claire
Rating: T
Summary: To her, its this insignificant little thing, nothing but a scratch at the surface. To him, its the biggest thing that's ever happened; like a knife straight to the heart.
This is actually not a part of The Chronicles of Awkward. Just a separate one-shot I had an idea for, the tone of which would not have fit into the aforementioned fic.
"Let me get this straight." Claire Saunders eyes the blonde boy sitting on top of her work table scrupulously, eyebrows furrowed in a mixture of disbelief and disappointment which is making him, Topher, even more embarrassed for being there in the first place.
"Victor gets a piece of schrapnel stuck in his leg from a roadside bomb in Afghanistan. Boyd gets an wound from the arrow of a man-hunting predator. Adelle got shot in the side during Reed's wiping. November's got bruises on her neck from the guy who did horrible, horrible, things to Sierra, so I won't even get started on the physical abuse she's been through... and Echo!" The doctor laughs, shaking her head, "Every week she's getting into some kind of trouble which requires my attention, and let's not forget the eye surgery." Claire takes a deep breath, pushing back a stray lock of brown hair behind her ear.
"I have to deal with life threatening wounds on a daily basis, and you, you are here because of a paper cut?"
"Well, that's putting it lightly-" Topher insists, "It's a scrape."
"It's a scratch." Claire corrects.
"There was blood."
"I think you'll live."
"Come on, Doc, you're always waxing poetic about what it means to be human." Topher knows he's hit a sensitive spot, and he's almost pleased with himself when he notices the doctor visibly tensing, "Have a heart." Like a petulant child he holds out his palm, revealing the deep-set gash stricken across it.
Claire grabs his hand, in a way that is rougher than necessary, taking the time to inspect the wound. "You know, this wouldn't have happened if you just organized all your equipment. All those wires laying around, I've told you several times before, it's a safety hazard."
"Yeah, but you were more worried about the dolls getting hurt than me."
"I suppose I overestimated your motor skills at the time." Despite it being an insult, Topher smiles anyway and the doctor rolls her eyes in response because this always happens when she tries to bring him down a notch. "Where else?"
He doesn't respond, just points, or rather clasps his hand over his left shoulder with a wince.
"All right, take it off."
"What?"
"Your shirt." Claire deadpans, walking to her supply cabinet and retrieving a few supplies; gauze, rubbing alcohol, a tweezer and a few cotton balls for good measure. He feels nervous, but this doesn't seem to phase her in the least. Though, why should it? Claire's a professional.
His shirt is at the ground and she's at his side, placing her hands gingerly yet skillfully on his shoulder to inspect the damage. He knows he's being a big baby, he knows he could just slap a Spider-Man band-aid on it and go back to work, but it just seemed like a good excuse to see the doctor. To annoy her. He loved annoying her.
Claire never looks him in the eye, though he watches her like a hawk. At least, he tries to from the awkward angle he has to turn his head at. It kind of hurts his neck so he stops and settles on the ground.
"This is going to sting," Claire warns him, dabbing a cotton ball with the disinfectant. Before he even has a chance to protest she touches it to his shoulder and the stinging sensation is so immediate that without even thinking he grabs onto her arm for support. Now even she is surprised. "Topher," Claire breathes, "You can let go now."
"I don't want to."
"Topher." Claire means business this time, and he knows how she gets, so begrudgingly he lets go. The doctor grabs the gauze and tape, gently pressing the fabric against his wound, if you could call it that. "You really shouldn't be so clumsy." She's practically whispered it, but for the first time since he's been in there he's able to actually sense her concern. The gauze has been set for awhile, but her hands remain on his bare shoulder for a second longer than necessary, grazing his arm as she finally realizes what is happening and pulls away.
It's now cold where her hands used to be, and he feels as though he needs the heat. It's that intoxicating warmth that practically radiates off of her every time he makes her mad.
"Does that mean you'd care if something happened to me?" He asks, searching for her eyes, trying hard to meet the gaze that seems to set on avoiding him.
"Of course, I'd care." Claire replies quietly. "I mean, you're a human being, just like the rest of us. We feel pain. I wouldn't want anyone to experience that... that's why I'm a doctor."
"Wow, doc. You almost had me there." Topher sighs. It's that humanism which makes her so endearing yet so infuriating at the same time, because she's not concerned because he's Topher, she's concerned because he's human. "Sometimes all of your preaching about humanism isn't as kind as you think it is."
Finally, she's met him in the eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means..." He pauses, biting his lip as evidence of his own hesitation, "It means that you're hurting me more than a gun shot to the side ever will." He pauses, "No offense to Adelle."
"Topher..." Claire's too smart to play dumb in response to that one, so she surrenders to it. Admits to it. "Topher, it would hurt even more if... something were to..." Her hands find their way to his injured one, gently stroking the area around the gash. "...happen."
He's taken advantage of the fact that her hand is on his, and uses that as a means to pull her closer to him to the point where he's still sitting on her examination table and she's now standing in the space between his legs. It's a little too close for comfort, but that's the way he likes it - and he suspects it's the way they she does too. It's a part of that game they play, where they're so close yet so far away, so much and yet never enough. "I think I can handle whatever happens."
"You tripped over a wire and landed on one of your own computers." Claire reminds him in an attempt to bring them both back to reality. "...and, that reminds me, I still need to fix your hand..." He won't let it happen.
"I'll live." He reassures her quickly, before they close the distance. It's not one of those big, wet, sloppy ordeals. If anything it's just a soft graze, but in that sense, it's very him and it's very her. Noncommittal, but curious.
He wants to take things further, heck, he's fantasized about this exact moment for so long, with the examination table and everything. Except they'd both be on it. He briefly wonders if she's ever thought anything similar involving his chair, and before the new fantasies are allowed to form they're interrupted by more pressing matters. Oh, no, not those pressing matters - the real ones.
"Hey, doc! Do I need to take a number or something?" Echo (or some variation of her) is waiting impatiently at the door, hand over her forearm which is practically dripping in blood. "I got into a little bike accident. I mean, I only feel like I'm about to pass out from blood loss. No biggie."
"Oh my god," and the moment's over and ever the professional, Claire resumes activities which are actually listed in her job description. "Topher, get out of here." Claire practically pushes him off the table with little regard before bringing Echo in and plopping her down in his place. Admittedly, his hand still stings a little but as he makes his way back to his own respective office, he can't help but be grateful for the little bit of pain.
It's the pain that reminds them both that he's human, and to know that he is still human is what allows her to like him, despite their differences. Despite her better judgement.