ikissdhimbck | OOM: Room #100 - drinking aftermath (part 2)

Bela picked out awesome curtains... at least by Kate's current estimation. She'll have to send her a fruit basket for this.

When Doc returns, he'll find Kate faceplanted back in her pillow again, scarcely daring to breathe.

Doc will suggest some of those little orange spikey fruit things (from Africa) that he found years ago in the produce department of Wheelsy's ~~only~~ grocery store.

(Those are fruit that would fit in, nestled in a fruit basket assembled at the end of the universe)

He carefully climbs back onto the bed and adjusts the sheets and blankets around Kate, before he settles close to her - not too close, of course - and begins to rub her back once more.

She might brush him off, if it didn't feel so damn good. Also, she's not entirely sure she can move her arms.

She moans quietly, feeling simultaneously hot and clammy, but can't bring herself to kick the blankets off.

(Even if she did, she'd probably complain about being cold only minutes later.)

"Why'd y'come back?"

"I was always gonna come back," he replies. "It just took me a helluva lot longer than I expected it to."

Doc is careful to keep the touch soothing, and slow - knowing how sore your muscles get after a long night of trying not to curl in a ball and die while throwing up your stomach's entire contents helps in this case - as he works at her back.

"I wanted to."

She turns her head slightly so she can look at him, though the periods her eyes are open are hardly as frequent as they are closed.

"Hate it when y'leave without a goodbye. 'Specially when I'm th'one in trouble for it, always."

Her words might sound more aggravated if she could bear to raise her voice right now.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, voice a quiet rasp as he leans over to press his lips briefly to her hair, apologetic. "I was only plannin' on bein' gone a few hours but that don't make leavin' without lettin' you know acceptable."

That's the second time he's kissed her in the last few minutes. She reaches a hand out and weakly pushes at him.

"Don't."

She squeezes her eyes shut.

He nods without making a sound, then settles on the bed.

"Y'should try and sleep a bit more, then we'll git you some more water."

"Okay."

She's already halfway to the point of sleep, anyway. If her head wasn't aching so badly, she might have already drifted off.

Not knowing what else to say at the moment, as there's so much blood throbbing in her brain there's not room enough for coherent thoughts, she falls silent.

And falls asleep.

About an hour later, she wakes up again.

Doc glances over when she stirs, pausing mid-turn of a page in that book he placed earlier.

He reaches for the water from where he's sitting against the headboard, offering it to her once she seems somewhat more aware.

Edited 2009-08-16 03:15 (UTC)

She's groaning (and grumbling) as she fidgets, taking a long stretch to work out the soreness in her every muscle.

She scrubs at her eyes with the backs of her hands, watching and listening from somewhere deep underwater.

After a second, she notices the glass.

And frowns.

"The more water you get, the less dehydrated you're gonna feel," he says.

Doc's expression says 'I know this isn't what you want but it will help' as he glances at her.

"Don't got to finish it, just a few sips."

She slowly pushes herself up into a sitting position, ~~whining~~ complaining as her head throbs with renewed vigor.

She reaches for the glass, and finishes it off.

Mumbling, she hands the glass back to Doc, and scrubs at her face in misery.

"What's wrong?"

He takes the glass back.

"Other'n the headache."

Her hair is still damp in places where she slept on it wet, which might help account for the muggy, clammy feeling. She needs another bath. No -- not a bath. The idea of sitting in water, like a dirty stew, makes her feel even worse. Shower, then. She needs a shower. And--

She stops mid-thought, moving her hands away from her face sharply. Her expression is equal parts shock and horror.

Completely forgetting that Doc is sitting next to her, she hisses aloud:

"I ain't wearin' any knickers!"

Now she remembers Doc is sitting next to her.

And her face flushes bright red.

"I..."

Doc feels his face heat, ears turning pink at the tips.

He clears his throat.

"...I was unaware of that."

Her face goes right back in her hands.

This is awful.

"M'sorry, I didn't mean..." she muffles.

Quickly -- too quickly, as she suddenly lurches for a bedside table to keep herself upright -- she jumps out of bed, taking care to make sure her chemise stays where it's supposed to.

She swallows a few times, her mouth feeling cottony despite all the water she just drank, and stands still for a second to let the nausea pass.

"I think I need a shower."

"Just walk slowly, you've had 'nough rest that you should be able to grab a shower."

Without his help.

Doc swallows in an attempt to hide the fact that his voice has knocked up a tiny bit higher. He will not be joining Kate in the shower, as much as he might like to.

He would like to avoid getting his head kicked in by Esfir, thankyouverymuch.

"I'll be fine."

And she sounds oh-so-convincing, too.

She slowly makes her way to the bathroom, and shuts the door behind her.

There will be no head-kicking today, thankyouverymuch. Her head has enough to deal with at the moment.

Doc waits until he hears the water running to let out a long-suffering sigh and stare at the ceiling.

Thanks a lot, you fucking Landlord.

And then he returns to his book.

Having the hot water on helps. It feels good against her face and neck, and breathing in the steam is calming her nerves some. She stands with her hands pressed against the glass for a long time, just soaking it all in.

And thinking.

Bits and pieces from the day preceding are slowly drifting back to her, but there are still big blank gaps where there should be memories.

For instance, what the hell happened with Doc?

After a long while, she shuts the water off and wraps up in a towel...

...And sits on the floor, forehead pressed up against the cool porcelain toilet.

He hasn't gotten very far, because his mind is elsewhere - running through the events of last night.

(His conversation with Bill has dominated his thoughts for quite some time.)

Once the shower stops, and there's silence for some time, he realizes something.

"Kate...you need somethin'? Clothes?"

Or water? Painkillers?

"Just a minute."

Painkillers would be nice, but her mind is on the 'clothes' offer. She just needs a second before she can move for her dresser again.

"Just let me know," he replies, glancing down at the printed letters once again.

He will not look up if she enters the room.

He will not look up if she enters the room.

He will not...

When the last wave of nausea passes and she feels comfortable enough to reopen her eyes, she carefully gets to her feet with a soft moan.

She could really stand to have some of those little white pills she took the last time she drank too much.

She cracks the bathroom door and peeks her head around to see Doc. The expression on her face, though intensified by her discomfort, speaks a hard warning against wandering eyes.

Clutching her towel close, she walks to the dresser and picks out a set of pajamas -- long sleeves, bottoms -- and clean knickers.

And then she reenters the bathroom just as quietly as she left it.

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