Impractical Jokers: [Joker]xReader Collection

Sal x Reader - Germaphobia

[SMUT WARNING]

Your hand comes to rest against his back as he rubs his hands furiously beneath the hot water. You have to admit, the punishment set up for him had been genius: making him bury himself in trash to find his phone only to reveal that he'd been sent out to sea in the time he'd been scouring desperately.

"Assholes," Sal hisses venomously under his breath and you barely flinch as he holds his hand out expectantly for you know what he wants. A hand delves into the pocket of the jacket you're wearing and pulls out a bottle of hand-sanitiser, squirting a generous helping onto his hand and watching as he resumes his cleaning. Once he's done with that, he grunts and puts his hands back under the water.

You notice the skin of his hands beginning to turn red, steaming red, as if it's about to peel off due to the heat it's being exposed to.

"Sal."

The Joker doesn't regard you, just focuses on his breathing. He closes his eyes with impatience when he feels your hand reach up and squeeze lightly at the back of his neck; he hates that because it brings him back to earth and sometimes he prefers being locked up in his clean little bubble when things get too messy; mostly he hates it because you always know when it's necessary.

"Sal, stop."

Silence pervades the air, only broken by the hammering of the hot water against the sink. Carefully, your hand reaches for one of his and guides it away (you wince at how warm it is), fingers slipping deftly over plastic and turning the tap until the beating drum against the inside of the sink stops completely. Reaching behind you, a hand locks around fluffy fabric and passes it to the stressed out male, his hands enclosing around it in return. The towel is short-lived but effective in drying his skin.

"You're all right."

"I'm good."

His short sentences leave something to be desired and that stony stare definitely isn't welcoming. Briefly, you consider what had happened to make this way. Surely somebody couldn't be born with such disgust for germs without some form of fear being instilled in them from a young age... or a raging case of OCD? Either way, it hurts you to have to see him in such distress.

Saying nothing, you lead him out of the kitchen and guide him to the couch by his hands, still worried at how hot-to-the-touch they are as you both sit, him looking more blank than you care to think about. He doesn't speak to you, just swallows hard and collects his bearings; and you respect that, slowly releasing his hands and letting him sit alone. Or at least you would have had he not re-taken them and given them a squeeze. A smile slowly stretches across your face.

"Thanks. For staying with me back there. I'm used to having the guys mess with me like this but... it doesn't make it any easier."

Without thinking about it, you raise one of his hands to your lips and press a gentle kiss to it, looking through your lashes to meet his eyes. He's staring at you, swallowing thickly before inhaling purposefully through his mouth, lips parting as if he's about to say something... before he decides against it, instead leaning closer to you and giving you a hesitant kiss. You return it, of course you do, all gentle breaths and soft pecks as you shuffle closer to his side of the couch and let his hands brush over your face and hold it. The heat isn't quite as unbearable now, has faded into a comfortable warmth as the burn cools.

A soft 'mm...' leaves your lips when he pulls away to breathe, his mouth still ghosting yours as you sit there with your eyes closed, enraptured by the taste of him. Sal has never been easy to cope with, with his many phobias and his otherwise 'uptight' (when it comes to being comfortable within his own space) persona; it is something that leaves you frustrated sometimes... but it's what makes him him and you love it all in the end.