𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬// (Lee Christmas x Reader) (The Expendables)

six.

It was a couple weeks later and you were home in your apartment. It was pretty late, and like every night you spent by yourself while you were healing- doctors (and Barney's) orders- you had on some talk shows and a glass of wine ready to enjoy. The stitches had been removed and you had a nice solid scar where the knife had been, though it could still be sore at times. It wasn't like you had to do much heavy lifting, though. Whenever you needed anything, you called one of the boys up and they'd make it work. You kind of liked having them at your beck and call all the time. It was almost a shame you were healing well and would be back to work soon.

There was a slow knock on the door and you sighed, pulling yourself off the couch and lowering the TV volume. You had made a habit out of pressing your hand into your waist when you moved even though you didn't feel the need to do it anymore. You looked through the peephole and raised an eyebrow, pulling the locks loose and opening the door.

"Hey, darling," Lee said, offering you a very forced, painful smile. You looked him up and down- he was gripping his ribs and leaning against the doorframe, a few scrapes down the side of his face. You sighed, shaking your head.

"Come in," you said, moving to the side so he could walk by. He lifted himself from the doorframe and walked in, wincing as he stepped on his sore side. "Can I ask what the hell attacked you?"

He shot you a sideways look and shook his head, looking over your living room with the TV glowing and curtains cracked just slightly. "Eh, you should see the other guy," he said, watching you lock the door and join him where he stood.

"You always say that," you said, crossing your arms. "Is it bad?"

He shrugged. "Not bad. Taken care of. Could you help me out?"

You looked him over with a squint for a minute before nodding, heading to your kitchen to grab the first aid kit.

"Take the shirt off then. You look like you got some cracked ribs under there."

He grimaced as he let his jacket slide off of his shoulders and hit the floor. You hurried back over with the kit and sighed, picking the jacket up and throwing it over the couch.

"Let me help," you said, putting the kit down on the coffee table and reaching for the hem of his shirt as he struggled to lift it. He hesitated for a split second, holding the shirt down as you tried to pull it up, but you gave him a look that said just do it and he let go and lifted his hands up slightly to make it easier. You pulled the shirt up over his head and dropped it by his jacket, running your fingers along the tender bruises over the side of his ribs. He winced, twitching away slightly, his eyes focused down on you as you examined him for more wounds. You moved around him, his back scratched by what looked like finger nails.

"Should I ask?" You said casually, returning to the front of him.

He raised an eyebrow, confused.

"Work or play?" You joked, trying to suppress a giggle.

He rolled his eyes and made for the couch, sinking down with a grunt. "It's all work. Get your mind out of the gutter."

You laughed again, opening the kit and taking a sip of your wine. There wasn't much you could do for his ribs, but you could clean his face and back at least. You pulled out some alcohol wipes and dabbed at his cheekbone, wiping away the dried up blood.

"Should you be drinking while you do this?" He asked, motioning at the wine.

"Oh, relax. It's my first glass. And this isn't even that bad. I can't do much aside from some painkillers for the ribs."

He let out a huff and you looked over the rest of his face. He needed a shower the most out of anything, really.

"Turn," you said, grabbing some more wipes and running them along his back. He twitched a little more this time, but you hardly noticed.