Signed /Dream Team/

54

I almost slept on Clay's chest. But then I remember.

"We need to change your bandage," I mutter, and he hears none of it.

"What?" Judging by his voice, I think he was dosing off too.

As much as it hurts to lift my head from his chest, I don't want his tattoo to get infected. He sweated enough in that bandage already, I hope it's not too late.

I thought preparing myself mentally was going to be the hardest task. But just as I crawl to the edge of the bed and put my feet on the ground, my attempt to stand up ends horribly wrong. I fall back down.

Oh no.

"You okay?" I just hope he thinks it's my iron deficiency or something, he's cocky enough already.

I don't answer him, I try to get up again. And this time it's a success, but my thighs are shaking.

Welp, I asked for it.

And as I look at him... as I look at him smirk, I know he knows. He's smirking at me as I'm relearning how to walk.

"What's that smirk for?" I scold him. Everything from chest down is half-numb, half-sore.

He shakes his head, looking down at his hands with the same expression prominent on his face, "Just.. proud."

Of course, he is, I'd be surprised if he wasn't.

"I'll beat you up," I finally go to the bathroom to get the bandages, smiling to myself when I hear him chuckle in the other room.

"You can't even stand," his chuckle turns into a laugh. It might turn into a wheeze if we continue.

I get the supplies and go back, more comfortable when I'm on my knees on the bed and there's no risk of falling over. Clay smiles at me, throwing his head to the side and pulling the darkened hair away to expose the old bandage. I peel it off, surprised at how well it held up. And the tattoo looks okay too, so I guess I'll just quickly clean it up and stick a new one on.

It's an easy task, I finish it in no time.

"Alright, I'm gonna go shower," I get up, aspiring to get rid of the sticky feeling all over my stomach.

"Need assistance?" Even though he delivers it in the softest and most innocent way possible, I think it's not worth risking. If something goes down in the shower, I'm saying goodbye to my legs.

"No, but if I don't come back in 30 minutes, I probably fell and died," I warn, and he nods with a small laugh.

Nothing special happens from that point. I shower, he showers, we throw our clothes into the washer, and end up wearing robes to bed. Then we pass out.

We both needed to sleep desperately. And even though we do, my brain starts going on and off about random things.

For example, work. I think it's fair if I miss work for a couple of days. I still don't know what I'm gonna do with my life and work is just unnecessary pressure. I've made enough to support myself, I'll just take a break for a while.

And I thought I'd think about George and what he did when my brain finally gets some rest. But the deeper I fall into sleep, the less I care. Maybe I'm saying that because I haven't seen him in hours and so much has happened during those hours that he's the least I have to worry about. Either way, fuck him.

And then the house problem. Is it bad that I'm actually considering staying there with them for the next 6 months just to piss them off? And besides, they stayed in my house for months, why shouldn't I do the same? I bet George will be happy if I leave and he just gets away with it.

I'll think about it later. Maybe when I'm not asleep.

At last, my mind goes blank and I don't have enough consciousness to recall the master plan I came up with to get revenge on George. I just sleep for god knows how long and wake up at some point when it's dark in the room.

And I'll never understand how I sleep in one position and almost end up waking up on a different planet. I was on the edge of the bed when I fell asleep, on my side, wearing a robe. And now I'm ontop of Clay, on my belly, bare chest pressed against his own because the robe wasn't secured well enough.

I blink heavily, trying to remain patient as my eyes adjust to the lack of lighting. Clay's asleep, he's breathing softly. Looks like he also adjusted to the new position really well by swinging an arm around my body while the other one is lying limp on his side. I wonder what he's thinking of right now. Probably nothing, he's asleep.

I lazily try to remove his arm and roll away, but he tightens it around me and takes in a steady deep breath, "Don't."

"Thought you were asleep," I relax my body back down onto his, feeling his hand rub up and down my back.

"I was," great, I woke him up, "how are you?"

I close my eyes again, enjoying the comforting sound of his heartbeat and the little massage my back is getting, "I'm good, how are you?"

He takes a moment before answering.

"The tattoo and my back are burning and tingling," he admits, "other than that, I'm great."

"Thought you were into that shit," I grin which turns into a laugh when he pinches my back playfully.

"You're so annoying," he laughs as well, looking at me when I prop my chin on his chest.

"Still waiting for the day when it's you're so amazing instead of you're so annoying," it feels like he's only using actual compliments when I'm crying and he's scared to make me sob harder. All the other times I'm an annoying idiot.

"We're getting there," he smiles, "it used to be hope you die in your sleep so there's progress."

"Oh shut up," I roll my eyes, not being able to hide the smile on my face.

"Alright, I'll give you a compliment, ready?" I already know it's going to be something stupid, so it will be a lie if I say my hopes are high.

I don't even answer, I just sneakily grab the pillow that is next to us and wait for him to speak.

"Your tits feel really nice pressed against m-"

And that's what the pillow was for. To hit his stupid face and hear him wheeze against it. While his face is covered with the pillow, I laugh quietly and try to roll away, but he keeps me pressed to him with one arm and throws the pillow away with the other.

"No, no, no, wait," he laughs.

"No," I try to roll away again, but he pins me down harder.

He's so annoying, how do I even like him-

I mean-

Tolerate him.

Anyways.

"Fine, I'll give you a proper compliment," I hope he doesn't expect me to trust him after the last one, "it's more like a confession, but you're the most attractive person I've ever met, and I mean it both personality and appearance wise."

Wait, that's kinda sweet.

"What's the catch?" I narrow my eyes.

"There's none."

"Hmm.." I continue looking at him, thinking he'll pull something any second now. But he stays silent and I get impatient, "wait, really?"

"Yeah?" He smiles, "why are you surprised?"

Maybe cause that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever told me?

"That's just-" he doesn't need to know everything, "thank you."

I thought we'd end on that but his ego needed fuel again.

"C'mon, don't I get a compliment too?"

And as nice as his second compliment was, I'm still thinking about the first one. And oh sweet revenge.

"Of course you do," I smile, "your dick feels really nice pressed against my thigh. There you go."