ikissdhimbck | OOM: Room 25, Doc Scurlock's (cont.)

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OOM: Room 25, Doc Scurlock's (cont.)

[following this:]

She leans against the sink for a moment, not immediately reaching for that empty drinking glass. Blood is caked and drying on the inside of her thighs, and she still feels just a little weak. When she looks up at her reflection in the mirror, she's not sure she likes what she sees.

'You're growin' up to be such a fine woman, sweetheart. She woulda been proud.'

She remembers the way her father's hands had trembled, passing her mother's wedding dress on to his young daughter. He had smiled, so proud.

'Now, don't you just look like an angel.'

'One-a these days, I'm gonna give you away to a good man, sweetheart. And you're going to be beautiful, and happy, and you're gonna love him the way I loved your momma.'

She catches something out of the corner of her vision, through the blur of tears in her eyes, and turns her head. The bathtub is full, steam drifting off light blue, bubble-coated water. She blinks a few times, brow furrowed.

I didn't think Miss Bar could ... ?

There's a small piece of notepaper on the edge of the tub when she moves closer to inspect things.

'Special occasion.
Relax, and try not to panic.
Everything is normal.'

The bathwater smells like Epsom salt, and eucalyptus, and chamomile, and there's a small bottle of something on the edge she can't quite identify. It makes her smile, a little, carefully bringing her leg over the side of the tub.

She settles into the warm bathwater, laying her head back and stretching those tired muscles. It feels so incredible she can hardly bring herself to move for several long moments.

Her thoughts wander.

(He'll never see me walk down the isle in that white dress. Never.)

Her knees curl in to her chest before she even realizes she's crying, shoulders shaking with quiet, repressed sobs.

.

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He's so sound asleep that he's doesn't notice she's gone and in the other room, but his brain registers somewhere the fact that she told him she was just going to the bathroom.

This (along with the quiet sounds of someone stirring in the bath) are the only reasons that when he wakes up alone a few hours later, he doesn't outright panic.

He's sore. Everywhere. When he stretches, he groans quietly and asks himself the question 'when was the last time you got laid, anyway' before he feels a twinge in his shoulders and sits up, sheets pooling around his waist.

He could use a bath, or at least a shower to rinse off.

(Also, he wonders if he can get himself a coffeemaker.)

He's pretty sure that his hair is a complete disaster, and there's a sore spot on his neck that he fingers lightly (probably a hickey but he's got to check a mirror to be certain) and he's feeling the marks from her nails on his back (he doesn't mind those at all) before he yawns and scratches idly at his chest.

"Kate, y'doin' alright in there?"

His voice is a little thick and a bit raspy when he calls to her, more than she's used to when waking up next to him.

The lights in the bathroom are low, relatively speaking, given that it's full on daylight outside that small window. She's slept, on and off, relaxing in a tub full of water that never seemed to fully go cold, though she did freshen it with hot water a few times.

Her head is resting against the back of the tub, eyes closed, and she's fighting off a headache from the liquor last night and the tears this morning, trying to keep her body relaxed.

She only just barely catches his voice, muffled by the closed door.

"I'm fine," she calls back, swallowing a few times when her voice comes out thick and deep, throat still sore. "Jus' takin' a bath."

"S'some painkillers in the cabinet, bottle with a red cap...Tylen-somethin' or other, help if y'got a headache."

Doc?

He wants coffee.

This requires pants, and he has no idea where his are. A quick scan of the room reveals nothing, so he yanks the blanket off the bed and wraps it around himself, then pads for the bathroom. The dehydration headache is setting in behind his own eyes, and he pauses outside the door.

"Y'mind if I come in real quick, grab a glass of water?"

She arches her eyebrows without opening her eyes when he mentions the painkillers, wondering if he has somehow read her mind.

"Mmmkay."

She doesn't want to move. Her fingers and toes are wrinkled all to hell at this point, but she's relaxed. And she knows, from repeated attempts, that the second she tries to move that will all change.

His voice echoing again moments later, just outside the bathroom door, does make her open her eyes and shift, however. She goes to cover herself before thinking how ridiculous the idea is, given the events of last night. Besides, the bubbles help obscure things.

"N-no. S'all right," she says, laying her head back again when it screams in protest over the sudden movement.

He's quiet when he unlocks the door, and he smiles slightly at the sight of her, all stretched out and relaxed in the bubbles and the hot water.

"You," he says, padding into the bathroom. "Look comfortable."

It's said in a lightly teasing tone, as he reaches for the empty glass on the sink and then tucks the blanket tighter around his middle so that it won't fall while he stands there, filling the glass from the tap.

He downs several swallows before reaching into the cabinet for the painkillers, shaking two into his palm, before he downs those as well.

(He can see the slight tension at her temples, and her forehead.)

"S'for the hangover," he says. "Y'want any while I'm standin' here?"

Painkillers first. Then coffee.

He yawns again and braces his hands against the counter as he ducks his head, hair falling forward into his eyes.

She glances up, smiling small and brief when he comments on how comfortable she looks. She could feel better.

She could feel worse.

She watches him take the Tylenol, eying the small bottle curiously before nodding her head. Carefully.

She starts glancing around for a towel to dry her hands on, so she can accept the pills.

He refills the glass of water before he places it on the edge of the tub, then he crouches down on the floor and offers her a corner of the blanket that will work just as well to wipe her hands dry.

He won't manage to stay like this for long, because god damn that'll kill his back.

"They're a pretty common painkiller, and they don't make y'feel all fuzzy, just sort of take the edge off."

Doc rests his forearms on the edge of the bathtub to keep his balance so he doesn't end up on his ass.

She blushes as she takes a corner of his blanket, trying not to picture what's underneath as she dries her hands.

She nods, taking the pills and carefully popping them in her mouth, before taking a few swallows of the cool tap water.

Dear god in heaven that's nice.

She finishes the glass.

He smiles slightly.

"You want more of that?"

He means the water, not the pills, obviously. Not about to have her overdose on him, thank you very much.

"In a minute," she sighs, setting the empty glass back down. She doesn't want to get completely waterlogged, after all.

She leans back again, peering up to catch his eyes. Her brow furrows ever-so-slightly in question.

"Turn around for me?" she murmurs.

"Hmm?"

Regardless of his slight confusion, he turns around, then realizes what she's probably wondering and he glances at her over his shoulder.

Her eyes skitter from his shoulders, to his eyes, back to his shoulders again.

The water sloshes as she pivots forward in the tub, leaning just so she can touch a tentative fingertip to one unsightly red mark.

He exhales quietly at the touch, and it brings back memories of her hands on his skin, her nails scraping over his flesh, leaving those marks...they're nice memories to have.

A slight smirk.

"Y'didn't hurt me," he promises.

"You look awful."

There's genuine remorse in her voice. Almost shame.

She sighs deeply, resting her forehead against his bicep.

"I mean it. You didn't...that didn't hurt. And I won't mind feelin' it the next couple of days. Y'got nothin' to worry about."

He reaches up and gently cups her cheek in his hand (the arm that's not the one she's resting against) and then leans in to lightly nuzzle at her face.

"Promise."

Her hair is wet, droplets of water clinging to her chin and neck.

She sighs again, closing her eyes when he nuzzles at her face.

"Okay. I'm still sorry, though."

Seeing the marks makes her almost nervous, butterflies in her stomach.

"Well then, apology accepted."

He kisses her temple lightly.

"Y'want me to leave you in here awhile longer or do you not mind the company?"

He turns back around and then sits on the tile, unable to crouch any longer, one arm resting on the edge and his fingertips trailing into the hot water.

Her heart beats a little faster, though she's not sure why. She sinks back into the water, face turned towards him.

"Doesn't matter."

"Well then, I'd like t'join you in sittin' here and relaxing."

The warmer air of the bathroom does feel nice, and he rests his head on his arm and closes his eyes, letting the heat soak into his fingertips. He's in no rush to move, or to get that bath of his own.

She closes her eyes as well, waiting for the painkillers to take effect.

"All right."

He's quiet for some time, before he speaks again, voice quiet and mumbled just a little.

"You want somethin' for breakfast? I can head down in a bit and git somethin'."

"I'm not feeling so well right now, but maybe in a bit."

Her stomach is still all tied in knots, and she doesn't expect the feeling to go away any time soon.

She doesn't open her eyes.

"You can go eat if you want to. I know you said y'needed to get to the stables this mornin'..."

He nods slightly. "I should go check on things."

Doc shifts again on the floor, moving to his knees before he leans over and presses his lips against her forehead.

"You should rest a bit more," he adds, before he pushes himself up off the tile with a hidden wince dear god that makes my back hurt and then straightens the blanket around himself. He'll go throw some clothes on, check the stables, then grab something from the bar to eat, bring her something on the way back up, and then he'll get that bath he needs.

"You need anythin'..."

"No."

The word comes out too quickly, but she quirks the corners of her mouth into something resembling a smile to make up for it.

Under the blanket of bubbles, she hugs her arms around herself, like she's suddenly become cold.

"I'll be fine. Go on and go."

"Yes, ma'am," he replies, giving her a smile before he moves and makes his way out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her before he goes to get dressed.

Once he is dressed, he heads out of the room and to work.

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