Uppercut {a pedro pascal au}

four

Pedro

After our heart-to-heart conversation over a bottle of red two days ago, Maisy's been occupying the forefront of my thoughts.

Scrubbing a hand across my face, I make my way downstairs to get my morning cup of coffee. I move around stealthily, a skill I mastered the moment Malakai came into my life. I unload the dishwasher and draw the curtains while the coffee machine powers up. I go into the living room to let the morning light in when I spot Maisy. I'm surprised to find her already out of bed, she usually wakes an hour behind me.

I haven't seen her from the kitchen because the back of the couch hid her petite form. She's in her typical sleepwear attire—a pair of shorts that reveal her slender legs and a cosy hoodie to ward of the morning chill. She lies on the couch, curled up on her side, clutching a hand to her lower belly. "Are you okay?" I speak softly in hopes of not startling her.

"I'm fine," she answers with her eyes closed.

She doesn't look fine. She looks like she's having the period of hell. She winces.

"Have you taken anything yet?" I tread carefully. 

"I took two Aspirins at five am." Even her words sound painful.

Having a period must seriously suck.

I check the time on my phone. "You can alternate with Motrin. I have some in my gym bag," I offer.

She just nods, rubbing her thumb across the expanse of her stomach. I grab two pills and bring them back with a glass of water and hand it to her. She takes them gratefully.

"Thanks," she mumbles, flopping back against the cushions, closing her eyes once more. „How do you know all these things?"

"I'm thirty-four. I've been with enough women to know the drill. Also, have you seen any box match? My body is constantly in pain." I say and a little smile tugs on the corners of her perfectly pink lips.

After my forenoon training session, I stop off at a bodega and grab her some feminine hygiene products, just in case. My kindness certainly doesn't have anything to do with my dislike of seeing her in discomfort, I lie to myself.

When I arrive home, I locate her in Malakai's play area. She's camping on the floor with my son as they play with building blocks. I drop the bag of tampons and pads by her feet. „Didn't know what you preferred so I got a selection," I mutter.

Frowning, she peers into the top of the bag. I watch as her expression morphs with emotion. "You didn't have to. Let me get my wallet."

She moves to stand but I wave her off. "It's okay. Don't worry about that."

She gives me a bashful smile. She already seems to be feeling better. The Motrin must be working. "Have you had anything for lunch?" She shakes her head. "How does a grilled cheese sound?"

"No, Pedro, you really don't have to do all that," she protests but I'm already halfway to the kitchen.

"I have to throw something together for lunch anyways, so you want a grilled cheese or not?"

She groans. "Ugh! Fine. Make me one."

I'm aware that what I'm doing isn't slick, and that my curiosity towards her is entirely wrong. Taking care of her on her period and buying her feminine hygiene products sound far too boyfriend-y to me.

I am not attracted to Maisy. Not even a little. I tell myself but my dick doesn't seem to care.

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