Heebie Jeebies (Scömìche)

Heebie Jeebies (part 11)

Huge thanks to Dakota, Freya and Courtney. You'll all recognise bits you've contributed to / inspired & you've all listened to me whinge / given me a boost when I needed it. Love you xxx.

Also, it's a long one... whoops.

Oh, yeah and *AWOOGA* (just a lil bit)

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I sleep soundly for the first few hours, my state of total exhaustion successfully overruling any other stimuli. But it's still dark, sunrise a good hour away at least, when my mind starts to stir; unwelcome snippets of yesterday replaying with a viciously critical director's commentary. My own brain is quite literally adding insult to injury, which, minor as it is, is still sufficient to add unpleasantly to my restlessness. A half-hour of fidgeting later, I wave a white flag to the prospect of sleep and slip away quietly to the bathroom. I know it's still ridiculously early, but working through my morning routine provides just enough distraction to quiet my mind and makes me feel significantly more human. It's amazing how much more put together I feel just for shaving and cleaning my teeth. I'm staring into the mirror at the bruise that's blossomed overnight around my right eyebrow, debating whether I can risk a shower without waking Scott, when I hear a gentle tap on the door, followed by a tired and croaky voice.

"Mitch, you okay?"

I open the door to see Scott, blinking and rubbing sleep out of one eye with his fingertips. "I'm fine, just restless. Sorry, did I wake you?"

"No, just... noticed you were gone. Cold without you."

"I'm just gonna jump in the shower. Think I'll feel better once I've washed yesterday off me properly." I'm about to ask if he wants to join me but I can see that he's barely awake, poor thing.

"Uh, m'kay," he mutters sleepily and shuffles back to bed.

A few minutes later, as I stand underneath the shower head, shivering against the heat of the water cascading down my back, I hear the bathroom door open and close again. I smile and pull back the shower screen, transforming a tall dark silhouette into a tall, naked, and marginally more awake Scott.

"Get in here", I say, with playful reproach.

"Sorry. Tired," he says, before stepping in, closing the screen and wrapping himself around me with a satisfied sigh; his body cool against my shower warm skin. I moan involuntarily as he squeezes me tight and nuzzles into my neck. He pulls back sharply, wiping water from his face with a hand as he surveys me apologetically. "Shit, sorry, you okay?"

"I'm fine," I say. Bless him. "Honestly," I say, rolling my eyes and beckoning with my hands, "stop fussing and come back here." He does but, despite my reassurances, he's more tentative; placing one hand lightly on my waist, the other against the side of my jaw as he sweeps a thumb gently over the corner of my mouth.

"Let me fuss, I was worried about you." His eyes flick up to study my eyebrow, no doubt noticing the colourful bruise. He hisses in sympathy, "Ouch. You okay to shower with the steri strips? Don't you need to keep 'em dry?"

I shake my head, "It's not that bad, and no, they're fine to get wet."

He nods in understanding. "You gotta be in work early today?" he says with a slight frown.

"Nope, not until the afternoon, I just couldn't sleep. Busy mind," I explain with a shrug.

"Oh. Well, sweetie, that I can help with. Tip your head back," he says, "and close your eyes." I do as instructed and then feel him tilt my head back a little more into the running water. Cool fingers brush my hair back from my face and sweep away stray droplets of water before they run into my eyes.