𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏, reunion

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THIRTEEN

❛ And I never want you to hate me, even if I'm dead

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And I never want you to hate me, even if I'm dead.

PRESENT.

"Take your belt off," Vanessa motions towards her husband's waistband weakly while one of her hands is still clamped over the blood red towel.

His brows furrow as he raises from his crouched position in front of her, "Love, I really don't think now is the time—"

She glares through her eyelashes up at him before reaching forward with her only free hand, and unbuckling his belt before sliding it from the loops and away from his waist. Not sparing him another glance, she wraps the leather around her own waist this time, making sure that it goes over the top of the towel and her wounded abdomen, keeping the towel in place.

He watches her movements carefully, admiring her as she carefully buckles the belt up once more, grunting quietly as she makes it as tight as possible.

"You sure that's going to be comfortable?" He questions, tilting his head as he notices how much her waist has been pulled in by his belt.

She shakes her head, "I don't care about being fucking comfortable. I'd like to survive."

"I would fucking like that too, actually I'd love it," He mutters, "But you in pain is something I do not bloody like."

"Are you taking the piss?" She laughs, shaking at her head at him in disbelief, "I was shot, and have a small little bullet nestled inside me, and you think I wasn't already in pain? Tan, you really should know that being shot is not pain fucking free!" She snaps, shakily attempting to stand up from the toilet seat.

Tangerine is quick to help her, one arm around her body and clutching onto her arm while one hand is curled around her own as she groans in pain. Silently, he allows her to guide him out of the bathroom and back into a train carriage, the one beside the children's bright room. He settles her down in a seat and she whispers out a small thanks before he leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead.

"The blonde American cunt is staring at us," Vanessa informs him, nodding her head to the side and down the isle of the carriage.

Brows furrowing, Tangerine glances in that direction, noticing Ladybug and an unknown older man sat at a table talking to one another, but the blonde man's eyes remain on the married couple, until Tangerine meets his gaze and his eyes snap away in an instant.

"Really had hoped he would be dead by now," Tangerine sighs.

Vanessa hums in agreement, "You and me both. Now, help me walk over to them please."

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘, tangerineWhere stories live. Discover now