Crumbling Cakes

Part XXX (30) *POV Bonus*

I woke with a pounding headache and a stiff leg. My back ached. My arms ached. My damn pinky toe ached. If I concentrated hard enough with my sore brain, I could swear that even my eyelashes hurt. To move was to whimper. And boy did I whimper.

"You okay, Shorts?" Sebastian's sleepy rasp came from above my head. That's right, Sweets was in bed with me. Prying an eye open, I parsed the manly arm I was currently trying to fuse into my chest and the leg possessively draped over his. My bruised noggin tucked under his chin as his chest warmed my side. Somehow in all of this, my torso was still facing upward. I've contorted and wrapped myself around him like an octopus. A very needy, beat up octopus.

Tucking my face into his bicep, I grumbled, "Define okay? Because if you mean in one piece? Just about. If the question is, am I in working order? I'd call maintenance." Sebastian chuckled quietly. I felt it more than heard it. My nose nuzzled into his magnificent arm, mmmmmm almonds. I pressed my lips softly against his skin, inhaling at the same time. It wasn't until it registered what I was doing that I froze. Just what was I doing? You're canoodling you damaged tramp. Ouch, someone was grumpy this morning. My stomach broke my chastising session with an obnoxious grumble.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Darlin'," Sebastian replied. My stomach chose this particular moment to essentially scream. The rumble so fierce that I could almost see my shirt move in the process. I couldn't believe that noise was even humanly possible. He rolled away from me, I knew he was looking at the abomination now gurgling under my shirt just like I was. "Sounds like someone is in serious need of maintenance." He teased me with his grin. The Dalia needed fuel.

I looked up at him and took in his tired eyes, rumpled hair. He was still beautiful but... "You look like shit, Ronaldo." Sweets rubbed his hands down his face and snorted.

"You should talk, Chia Pet." I winced. Ah yes, I'm pretty sure half of my hair puffed up from the crappy dry job from the night before, and the half that I couldn't wet was frizzy and flat. Somehow it does both, it's a mystery I'll never solve. Maybe Sweets can place me on his windowsill as decoration.

"Hey, I danced with a metal pipe and lost. What's your excuse?" I poked him in the ribs. The smile in his eyes dimmed. His gaze glued to where my head tangoed with steel. The frown invading his amusement made my stomach drop—in silence thankfully. "That bad, huh?" I reached up to touch the wound and hissed. Fuckity fuck was that tender. There was no mistaking that a good diameter around the gash was puffed up and swollen.

His fingers grazed my cheek in the tenderest of touches, tracing the slope of my cheekbone. "Maybe you were right about getting that foundation," he whispered with a hard swallow. Oh god, it must look wretched if he admitted that. Last night as we waited for my prescriptions to fill, we got in a tiny argument about me moving around trying to find some makeup to cover up my new souvenir. His stance was I was being ridiculous and to sit down. My stance was that I didn't want to meet his family within a few days looking like a train wreck.

"It'll do the trick. You'll see." I wanted to assure him, the need suffocating. I got the sense that Sebastian blamed himself in all of this. An absurd reaction seeing that the fault was all mine.

"You need to take those." Sebastian nodded at the pills that were most likely behind me. The dark circles under his eyes hurt me in a way I didn't anticipate. But what did I expect, he'd woken me up several times in the middle of the night. Getting up if I needed anything. Helping me to the bathroom if the need arose, my balance being shifty at best. It was no surprise he was exhausted. I tried to sit up but barely managed a half-assed crunch.

"You need some sleep, Sweets. I can worry about my meds." My second attempt to get up was just as futile.

"Relax, Darlin'." He sat up, scooting to the edge of the bed and stretched. I listened to his body argue with his ill decision to leave with every crack and pop. "I'll get you some food to down those. Until then," he looked at me over his shoulder with a grin. "Stay down, will ya? I think I've had enough heart attacks for a 24-hour period."