nora fowler oneshots

stitches [ ❦ ]

It's late by the time you finally pull up to the driveway of Nora's house, so late that the streetlights are on, and . It's some trashy, late-night true crime documentary and it lets you know that Noah's already in bed, which comes as a relief - it's going to be hard enough to explain your appearance to Nora, without throwing her kid into the mix too.

While you're still fumbling with your keys just a few paces from the door, it swings open. Lit in the warm lamplight from the entryway stands Nora, soft blonde curls hanging loosely around her face and framing her relieved expression at seeing you get home okay. No more than ten seconds passes, however, before you step closer into view and her eyes land on the bruises that now adorn your apologetic face.

"Oh, God." Concern wracks both her person and her voice as she quickly pulls you inside, grasping worriedly at your arm as she gently moves your hair back from your face to see the full scope of your injury. "What the hell happened to you?"

She ushers you into the warmth of the living room, seeing the tensed nature of your body and sensing just how cold you are. Helping you to sit on the sofa, she treats you as if you're something fragile as she surveys the broken skin over your cheekbone and the blood gathering in the corner of your mouth. Guilt flushes through you at the worry you're causing her, and you try your best to ease her anxiety as you take her hand gently into yours.

"Would you believe me if I told you I made it through nearly the whole shift without incident?" You tell her, earning the smallest of smiles from her. Rubbing over the delicate skin of her inner wrist with the pad of your thumb, you suppress the embarrassment you feel at having to tell her what happened in favour of assuring her it was through no real fault of your own. "Some little tweaker got away from Rocker and Becker while they were bringing her in, and I was in her way during her mad dash out the door to freedom."

"Christ." She swears, but she's holding back a smile that you think is for your sake. Realising the damage to not be as bad as she'd first thought, Nora relents with her fussing and sits back before nodding over her shoulder to the staircase that leads upstairs. "Come here, let me patch you up."

As small as your chances are of changing her mind and just letting you go to bed, you still try and convince her with a small shake of your head that you've already been taken care of. "Doctor Wendy already looked me over, I'm oka- "

"Did that sound like a question?" She cuts you off, brow arched in a fashion that tells you your efforts are for nil. You concede defeat and bow your head meekly, to which she can't help but smile.

"No, it did not." You tell her, earning a satisfied nod from her as she smiles.

Standing up from where she'd been sat beside you, she tugs gently on your joined hands and fixes you with a stern yet softened look. "So come on."

She helps you up and the two of you make your way up the stairs. Keeping a hand on your lower back to steady you, Nora guides you up the steps and gently steers you toward the ajar bathroom door at the top of the landing. She reaches inside to flip the light switch before you enter, and gingerly has you sit on the closed toilet as she opens the cabinet and starts to rifle through it in search of her medkit.

From inside the small red pouch, she draws out a bottle of disinfectant and a wad of cotton. You're already cringing internally at what's to come by the time she turns around, and she shushes you softly as she kneels between your legs and readies the dressings. Her hand goes to your knee and squeezes it gently in apology as she raises the soaked cotton and presses it to the cut on your cheek.

The sting is blinding and you wince with a hiss of pain. Nora mutters soft apologies under her breath but doesn't relent, and cleans the wound with a gentle hand. You grit your teeth and sit through it, even as it seems to take a lifetime for her to be satisfied with her work and discard the offending article. Next is the bandage, and it appears as though she'd thinking of something that makes her smile as she fiddles with the backing on the plaster.

"Nice of her to leave your good side alone." She muses through a smile as she raises the bandage and lines it up over the wound, meeting your eyes with a humoured look. "You know it's your best feature."

"And here I thought you liked me for my cunning wit." Comes your offended reply, putting a hand over your heart that she quickly swats away with a laugh.

"It helps." The smile on her lips is immovable, even as you lean down to meet her halfway for a sweet kiss. Her hand goes to cup the side of your face that went unscathed and she holds your jaw delicately as she draws away, still smiling. "Now come on, let's get you into bed before you find another way to give me a heart attack."

You stand and help her to do so too, taking her hand into yours and squeezing her knuckles assuredly with a relieved nod. "Way ahead of you, love."