A Killer's Lover

15

A/N: Happy Walking Dead Sunday!! (:

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When Mitch finally did wake up, he did so with his back causing him immense pain.

He slowly sat up in bed, feeling Scott retract the arm that had been draped over the smaller boy's body.

The other one, however, had been pressed up against the wound for the entire night.

"Ow...ow. What the hell?" Mitch whispered to himself, slowly pulling his legs out of the bed. The activity from the last few days were enough to widely irritate the gash. He wasn't making things better.

"Mm, you okay?" A deep, morning-y voice filled the space of the room. When Mitch turned to look back, Scott sat upright in bed, rubbing at one of his eyes.

"My back hurts," the boy mumbled, before walking into the bathroom. Seconds later, a worried Scott was behind him.

...In only underwear. Damn.

"I have some soothing ointment in my car, if that will help."

Mitch looked at the tall, muscular man in the mirror, and he raised an eyebrow.

"You don't look like the kind of guy to carry 'ointment' on you," he commented.

"And you didn't look to me like the kind of kid to shave off his hair. Guess we're both wrong."

"...Touché. The ointment, please."

Scott threw on his clothing from the day before, --which he had to search for-- before running out to his car. He came back with a small white tube in his hand.

"I'll help you, if you want."

"No, I'm good, thank you." Mitch had no idea as to why he was so quick to deny it. He felt slightly uncomfortable, considering he wore only underwear and a see-through tank top for cover.

Scott shrugged, sitting down on the bed before tossing Mitch the medicine.

It was quiet for a while, other than a few grunts from Mitch as he applied the contents of the tube to his back.

He wondered why Scott suddenly seemed closed off again. The night before, he seemed like he was having at least a little fun. But after their talk, he shut down completely.

And when they played 20 questions, Scott never went into personal detail. He had to know more.

"If you're an ointment kind of guy, what else do you do?"

Scott looked up. "What do you mean?"

"You know, what other quirks do you have?"

"Nothing really. I'm not a quirky kind of dude." He could practically feel Scotts' eyes on him.

Mitch sighed. Stubborn. "You've got to be a something kind of dude."

The kid could feel Scott getting slightly agitated. But he was determined to break down Scotts' walls.

"This was a nice conversation that I don't really want to have."