The Gloves are Off

Untitled Part 18

Vik helps you into his car first thing in the morning, the medicine still fogging your mind and leaving you yawning almost the whole drive to the clinic.

He had kept an eye on you all night, being careful to baby your injuries like you were extremely fragile. Kinda thought it was cute, kinda thought it was a bit excessive.

You'd had a lot worse, and told him as much, but he insisted on taking care of you, insisted on keeping you with him at the clinic today to make sure nothing else was wrong.

He presses his lips to your knuckles, chuckling when you yawn yet again, "should wear off soon, love. Can take a nap in the back if you need to."

"M'good," you shake your head, giving his hand a light squeeze as he pulls into the clinic garage, "thanks though, babe. Usually just fend for myself after a rough gig."

He frowns a bit, glancing over to you after throwing the car in park, "well, I'm sure it might seem like I'm overreactin', sweetheart, but I don't wanna gloss over somethin' just 'cuz you're too stubborn to come in and get checked on your own."

"Careful, doc," you grin up at him playfully as he comes around to help you out of the car, your ribs still giving you a bit of issue today, "people might start to think you like me or something."

He chuckles and snakes an arm gently around your waist, tucking his knuckles under your chin to tilt your face upwards, "think everyone knows how I feel about you by now, love."

"Good," you press a light kiss to his lips, enjoying the warmth his body provides while you're still half sleepy on meds, "can't have someone waltzing in here thinkin' they got a chance with the hot Ripperdoc."

He lets out a short but deep laugh, shaking his head, "all yours, sweetheart. Now c'mon, let's get you inside and run some scans, yeah? Everything comes back clean enough, and I promise I'll quit fussin' over you so much. Deal?"

You nod along, following him inside, trailing behind by his hand leading you. He helps you get situated on one of the operating chairs, moving to his table briefly before returning to your side, stethoscope hanging over his shoulders and clipping his medical glove on.

Damn if he isn't the sexiest man you've ever seen.

If you weren't so hurt... this might actually be fun, hanging out in his clinic all day, watching him work...

"Alright, sweetheart," he hooks you up to the screens and starts running a few diagnostics on your systems, "sit still for me for just a minute," he situates one of the screens over your head, flipping one of the switches and slowly moving it over the length of your body before shifting it back to the side.

He leans over you for a second, adjusting the back of the chair so you can lean up a bit without having to risk straining your ribs again, his stethoscope dangling and taunting you. You can't help but grab it, pulling him closer, one of his arms gripping the back of the chair to keep from falling on top of you, his face barely an inch from yours.

"Careful, sweetheart," he mutters in warning, his voice deepening a bit as his other hand moves up to grip your wrist, "can't be doin' any of that while you're hurt."

You pull again, making his other hand dart up to grip the chair too, his jaw flexing as he lets out a slow exhale.

With a small pout, you trail your free hand up the back of his hair, "not even a little?"

His eyes darken, even behind his glasses, his lips brushing softly against yours before a chime sounds from the screens nearby.

He chuckles and gives you a light pec on the lips, "scan's ready, babe. Gotta let me go so I can read it."