I don't know how long I sat there holding her. Eventually she stirred slightly, waking up.
"Oh, hai!" I whispered, trying to keep the mood light. Krism looked up and smiled slightly. Her stomach growled loudly, a testament to how long we had been sitting here. She groaned unhappily, getting up from the bed with stiff, jerky movements. She stumbled and nearly fell, just barely catching herself on the dresser. I was at her side in an instant, putting my arm protectively around her waist.
"You okay?" I asked. She shrugged out of my hold and limped to the kitchen. After a moments pause, I followed.
"We're out of milk," she announced when I came in, trying to be casual. Despite her efforts, her voice trembled, and her hand gripped her thigh where she had been shot. She refused to take her pain meds, stubbornly insisting that it was livable and she didn't need drugs to cope with a little twinge now and then.
"I'll go to the store after we eat," I offered, taking a seat even though every fiber of my being screamed to go help Krism.
"No," she snapped. "I can get it myself."
"Kris-" I started, but abruptly stopped. "Fine. I'll tag along."
"I don't need your help!" she yelled, turning to face me. I held up my hands defensively.
"I just want to get out of the house for a bit, okay?" I explained. I wanted no such thing, but it was better if she thought I was coming just for a breath of fresh air. "Plus, I want to spend time with you."
Krism hesitated before nodding. She grabbed a box of leftovers from the fridge and sat it on the table between us.
"Mmm, is that chow mein?" I asked, reaching out to grab some. She smacked my hand with a fork.
"Mine," she warned, her voice adorably childish for a second. I could see a faint glimmer of amusement in her eyes.
"Oh, but bebeh, it's chow mein," I pleaded. I lunged for it again, standing up as I did so.
"No!" she yelped, laughing as she grabbed the chow mein and held it close to her body. I reached around her, trying to get to it. Both of us were laughing.
"Imma tickle you," I threatened.
"Ah, no!" she giggled, ducking under my arms and making a break for the couch. I tackled her as she vaulted over, and we both fell on the cushions, breathless and covered in Chinese food. I started to get up, but Krism pulled me back down and looked at me seriously.
"I love you," she said.
"I know," I responded, slightly confused.
"No, you don't understand," Krism insisted, taking my face in her hands. "I love you."
I reached up and brushed a stray noodle out of her hair before leaning forward and kissing her gently.
"I love you, too," I whispered. I kissed her again, this time with more force. She responded whole-heartedly, slipping her tongue into my mouth.
The doorbell rang.
We jumped away from each other. Krism brushed her hair down as she walked over to the door.
"Hello?" she asked, opening it a crack.
"Heyyyyy," came a familiar voice.
"Yami!" I cried, getting off the couch. Krism opened the door, revealing two men in air force uniforms. One had short brown hair and a thin beard. The other was a good deal taller, with black hair and glasses. I leapt up and hugged them both. "Mark, too? What're you guys doing here?"
"Just got back from a mission," said the taller one. "We would've been back sooner, but Yami here decided to stay at the airport's bar instead of getting on the plane.
"It's not my fault, Mark," Yami whined. "I was thirsty."
"Yeah, anyone with two eyes could see that," Mark scoffed. He turned to Krism and gave a salute, which she automatically returned. "First Lieutenant Markiplier of the Thirty First regiment of the Royal Air Force, and my partner, Second Lieutenant Yamimash. We used to serve with Minx."
"Staff Sergeant KrismPro of the Special Ops division of the U.S. Army," she replied. "What brings you here?"
"We need a place to sleep, and were wondering if we could crash here for a few nights," Yami explained. Krism looked at me and shrugged.
"Sounds cool," she said. "Just don't be annoying. We're headed out in a bit, so you'll have the apartment to yourselves to unwind from your trip."
Mark nodded, shooting a sly smirk at Yami. The shorter man blushed fiercely.
"So, um, where do you want us?" he stammered.
"You guys can stay in the guest room. Up the stairs and to the left," I offered, then grinned. "Have fun."
Mark grabbed Yami's hand and pulled him up the steps. Krism closed the door and sighed.
"What is it?" I asked.
"I'm still covered in chow mein."
YOU ARE READING
The Aftermath
FanfictionIt's been six months since Moriarty was killed. Six months. Krism and I are alive, and safe. So why do I feel like we're just falling deeper and deeper into this pit of fear? You were right, Dad. The aftermath is worse than the bomb.