What the cat dragged in.

15 Bruises

Dawn was starting to creep into the single room, making the solid shapes of furniture gray and hazy. The frail had finally fallen asleep half an hour before; his hand was tangled in her hair, her head resting on his chest. He knew she wasn't deeply asleep yet, so he stayed still. Her arm was draped over him. Even in the near-dark, he could tell that her shoulder was swollen and he could just about make out the slight shadow of a deep bruise under the skin. There was a much darker, much more prominent mark in the shape of his hand just above her wrist.

For once, he didn't have to wonder what Jimmy or Wilson would have said or done. Wilson would have come back in with overly sincere apologies and promises never to do it again. It would have been complete bullshit and she would have seen right through it. Jimmy would have run. Not a goodbye, not a thanks for all the good fucking, nothing. Either way, the frail would have walked away and never looked back. 

Whatever he'd said, or hadn't said, or implied or whatever seemed to be enough for her anyway. He'd never apologized for anything in his life, so he didn't know how that little speech was supposed to go. He couldn't say he knew what guilt felt like, though if he had to venture a guess about that one he might have named the tight pain in his chest. That wasn't something he was going to tell her about though. He couldn't even say he'd never do it again because they both knew that he would. What the fuck did that leave? 'It ain't like I did it in front of people.' 'I could've broken it when you told me to, be glad I didn't.' 'You can still use it.' She hadn't seemed to need more and he didn't really feel like trying to come up with something they both knew was bullshit.

She struggled a little, tugging at blankets awkwardly. He stopped her hand and pulled the covers up around her shoulders. She murmured something and settled again. Half of him thought she was fucking stupid for trusting him at all...but only half of him.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Kelly woke slowly. She was on her side; the hair on his chest was tickling her nose. His heavy arm was resting around her waist. She moved her head slightly, but kept the rest of her body still. Even though she was far less skilled at telling the time by the quality of light in the room, she could tell it was later than usual. Kelly bit her lower lip and moved her arm slightly; her eyes squeezed shut against the pain that shot out from her shoulder. For a moment, she bit her lip to hold back the little cry of pain. After the sharpness of it abated to a pounding ache, she started to squirm out from under his arm.

His low growl was accompanied by his claws digging into her bottom. She smiled and kissed the middle of his chest softly. "Bathroom." She murmured.

"Come back." The growl was still in his voice. He hadn't eased the pressure on her skin.

"It's late."

"Fuck what time it is. You'll come back or I ain't lettin' you go to start with." His claws bit just a little deeper. Any further and he'd draw blood. The sensation got Kelly's heart beating faster in a good way.

She smiled. "Where else would I go?" She moved to kiss him and he nipped her lower lip.

He pushed her away. "Hurry up."

She wrapped his shirt around herself again and trotted across the room. Every movement jostled her arm and that made each step painful. At least behind the closed door of the bathroom she could banish some of the painful stiffness without trying to hide her pained expression from Victor. Without a doubt, he knew she was in pain, broadcasting it felt like an accusation and a sign of weakness.

By the time she came back out again, she was able to move more freely. As soon as the Ibuprofen kicked in she would be able to manage pretty much like nothing had happened at all. In a few days, she wouldn't need as many pills. After a week or so it would be like nothing had happened. At least, if this was like the last time, that's what would happen.