Savage Love || An Eminem Fanfiction

Chapter 126

Blair's POV

"I'm pretty sure the doctor didn't say I'm banned from doing anything," I said, watching Marshall lift another box like it weighed nothing. "But please, continue flexing those muscles. Don't let me interrupt your one-man show."

Without looking up, Marshall replied, "Not takin' chances, Blair. Doctor's orders."

I folded my arms, leaning into the doorframe. "Right, because moving a lamp is on par with dodging bullets. Real heroic stuff you've got going on here."

"Exactly," he said, setting the box down, that familiar smirk playing on his lips. "I'm basically saving lives."

I rolled my eyes, stepping further into the room. "This was supposed to be a team effort, not 'Marshall vs. The Office Furniture.' You're hogging all the fun."

Marshall finally turned to face me, casually leaning against the desk. "You want in? You're real good at standin' there lookin' cute and tellin' me what I'm doin' wrong."

"Oh, you'll know when I tell you what you're doing wrong," I shot back, grinning. "And when this desk collapses mid-email, I'll make sure to remind you every time."

"Keep it up," he chuckled. "If it collapses, it'll be because you're distractin' me with all that supervision."

Marshall moved around the room like this was some casual Saturday stroll, while I was left playing the part of the 'sarcastic but stunning observer'—a role I excelled at, obviously.

"You know," I started, smirking as I watched him reposition the desk again, "if you put half this much energy into planning date nights, we wouldn't end up ordering takeout and calling it 'romantic.'"

He paused, his eyes flicking up to meet mine, that grin still on his face. "Yeah? Maybe I'm just savin' all my creative energy for... other things."

"Other things, huh?" I raised an eyebrow, teasing. "Because all this organization is really lighting my fire."

Marshall chuckled, grabbing another box. "Well, I aim to please."

"Is that what this is?" I asked, leaning against the desk. "Because you might need to step up your game, Mathers."

His grin widened. "Careful, or I'll show you what real heavy liftin' looks like."

———

As the afternoon dragged on, Marshall's calm, almost leisurely approach to moving furniture was driving me insane in the best way. He moved like he had all the time in the world, while I was left supervising with my usual flair for commentary.

"That bookshelf looks better in the corner," I said, gesturing toward the far wall. "It gives off a whole 'I'm cultured, but I still know how to party' vibe. You know, like me."

He glanced over, raising an eyebrow. "You're gettin' all that from a bookshelf?"

"Absolutely," I replied, crossing my arms. "It's got 'effortless brilliance' written all over it. Just like me."

Marshall shook his head but moved the shelf anyway. "You're really leanin' into this 'design expert' role."

"Someone in this relationship has to have taste," I said with a wink. "You're just here for the heavy lifting. Eye candy and muscle."

He shot me a sidelong look, his grin never faltering. "Keep talkin', and I might start chargin' for my services."

Once Marshall finally stepped back, crossing his arms as he surveyed the room, I had to admit—it looked pretty damn good. The bookshelves were perfectly placed, the desk didn't look like it would collapse anytime soon, and the room finally felt like an office rather than a disaster zone.

"Not bad," he said, nodding in approval like he'd just built the Sistine Chapel.

I walked up beside him, folding my arms. "Not bad? Marshall, it looks amazing. You've got a hidden talent for this."

He smirked, his arm slipping around my waist. "Fine. I did good. You happy now?"

"Ecstatic," I replied, leaning into him. "I might even leave you a five-star review. 'Marshall Mathers: Rapper, Furniture Assembler, Bedroom Visionary.'"

He laughed, pulling me closer. "Please don't. Last thing I need is people callin' me to hang their shelves."

"Oh, come on," I teased, brushing a hand across his chest. "You could at least charge for it. Maybe your next album could come with a free set of furniture tips."

His eyes sparkled, that smirk growing. "You got any more suggestions?"

"Plenty," I shot back, stepping closer. "But not all of them involve furniture."

We stood there for a moment, the laughter fading just enough to let the reality of tomorrow seep in. I could feel it hovering between us, heavy but unspoken. I glanced up at Marshall, trying to read his expression, but as usual, he looked calm—too calm, maybe.

"You know," I said, leaning back against the desk, "if you keep perfecting this office, you'll run out of reasons to hover over me. What's next? Building a second studio just to keep yourself busy?"

He gave me that look, the one that said he wasn't taking the bait. "Could happen. Or maybe I'll just keep an eye on you."

I raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Keep an eye on me? Sounds more like an excuse to check me out."

Marshall chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, I wouldn't say no to the view."

"Right answer," I teased, stepping into him. "But you better come up with something more productive than this."

His hands slid to my waist, his voice low. "I'm always thinkin' about how to be more productive."

I looked up at him, trying to hold back my grin. "That so?"

"Yup," he replied, his voice smooth. "And you're distractin' me from my best work."

The flirting hung in the air, but beneath it, the weight of tomorrow crept back in. Marshall was always so good at playing it cool, but I could see the flicker of worry behind his calm eyes. He didn't show it often, but I knew him better than that.

"You really think it's gonna be okay?" I asked quietly, the playfulness fading as the question slipped out.

Marshall didn't miss a beat, pulling me closer. "Yeah. Whatever happens, we'll deal with it."

I nodded, feeling his words settle over me, but the weight still pressed down. "Thanks for... everything. And for putting up with me."

He smirked, kissing the top of my head. "That's my job."

I looked up at him, my grin returning. "Oh, really? I thought your job was to follow all my brilliant ideas."

Marshall chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, okay. Keep dreamin'."

I nudged him playfully. "You love it."

He grinned, his eyes softening. "Yeah, I do."