One-Shots: The Geek Collection

Jack Wilder - Now You See Me

A/N: Honestly, not too happy with this one, it's pretty boring. But I guess I might as well post it since it's done.

- - -

A series of knocks immediately brought me to my feet.

"Coming!"

I swung the door to my side to reveal a young man, hunched, clutching his side. He looked up at me through a lock of hair that had fallen over his eyes. He winced and clutched his side. My eyes flickered down to find blood seeping through his fingers.

My eyes widened. "Jack, holy shi-"

"Yeah, I know, it's bad...," he said in a strained voice, cutting me off. He gestured to the inside of my house. "Can we just...?"

I shook my head at him, my eyes narrowed. "I hate you. So, so freaking much," I mutter in a dangerous tone, just enough for him to hear. Despite my frustrations, I stepped outside, taking his wrist and slinging his arm over my shoulder. I gripped his waist and helped him limp into the house.

"Laying down," I ordered, lifting his arm from my shoulders. He proceeded to get down on the couch before I stopped him, shaking my head and wagging a finger at him. "Ah, ah. Shirt's gotta come off first."

He let out a hollow chuckle, making himself wince. "You could've asked before I'd lost two pints of blood."

I rolled my eyes. "No laughing, Wilder. It speeds up the heart rate, makes you lose more blood," I said blandly as I opened my first aid kit from the drawer.

"Sorry to break it to you, princess, but that's not the only reason my heart rate's going up," he said cheekily.

I shook my head. "You really have lost a lot of blood."

He didn't say anything. I turned around to find him sprawled out on the couch with exhaustion, still clutching his side, his head to the side and his eyes closed, trying his best to control his breathing. As bitter as I was at him, I still felt equally sympathetic; he really was in pain.

I took my materials and sat down with them in front of him on the hard wood floor. I took his wrist and checked his pulse while subconsciously running my fingers through the front of his hair. I concentrated on his pulse as I studied his face. I finished counting his pulse. An abnormally quick heart rate... hmm...

He groaned and turned his head, opening his eyes with a struggle as if I were shining a blinding light in them. His gaze met mine and a strained, playful smile graced his lips.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He asked.

My eyebrows furrowed. "Like what?"

"Like that."

I shook my head once again. Must be the blood loss talking.

My eyes traveled to his side where his hand still lay clenched. I gingerly placed my own hand on his, glancing at him. "Can I see?"

As a response he lifted his hand, which I could see was shaking as it traveled through he air. A pang of sympathy thudded against my heart.

I studied the wound for a second before fishing around for the supplies to treat it.

"Third degree trauma wound. Cut from a knife?" I asked, pulling out a numbing injection.

"Yeah, I got- woah, hold on a minute, doc," he said, his eyes wide as he peered at the needle. "What's with the torture device?"

"Look, you don't want me dressing a wound like that without numbing it," I explained, pulling out a gauze and smearing alcohol on the skin right next to the huge gash.

"Yeah, okay, just make it quick," he said, turning his head again and squeezing his eyes shut.

As fast as the needle entered his skin, it left just as quickly. I glanced at Jack, who still had his eyes squinted together as tight as he could.

"I'm done now, genius," I told him, cracking a small smile. My bitterness was quickly fading away; it was hard to stay mad at him for long.

He cracked an eye open, then quickly both of them when he realized the needle was well away from him. "Oh- right, uh, yeah, I know, " he replied. "Just testing you."

"Right," I nodded, raising my eyebrows in a sarcastic way.

I wasted no time in proceeding to clean the wound. I was about halfway done with the stitching when he broke the silence.

"I'm sorry," he said simply.

I took a brief pause to send him a questioning look.

I went back to work, still talking. "For?"

"Working you like this. Showing up at your house at midnight to get stitches. It's not fair to you."

I shrugged. "Just part of the job, I guess." A brief silence passed before I let out a short laugh. "But I do have to admit, as much as you get yourself hurt you'd think you'd know how to stitch yourself up by now."

"Well, maybe you should teach me?"

I shrugged again. "It's not too hard. Kinda like knitting I guess. Here, watch." I leaned in close to show him. I tied off the end of the stitches in slow motion so he could see what was happening. As I finished, I glanced up at him to find his attention intently trained on me. I didn't fail to notice that his face was particularly close to mine. I let out a slightly nervous laugh.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

He grinned. "Funny, I asked you the same question just five minutes ago."

"Okay, yeah, but why?"

Then he grinned even wider. And, as if to answer my question, he propped himself on his elbows and tilted his head forward, just enough to close the gap between us.

I couldn't comprehend it at first, but as quickly as I tensed up, I relaxed. In one hand I accidentally dropped my tweezers on his chest, abandoning them for a hand in his hair. However, it seemed as if as soon as we kissed, we broke apart. I opened my eyes to find that same silly grin spread across his face.

I guess that's why.