Chapter Text
It’s been almost two full days since Tara was put in a new inpatient room at the hospital, this time on a public floor where she can hear the bustling of life outside of the wooden door. The sleep that claimed her since has been empty, dreamless nothing, and she shifts back into consciousness every few hours only to find her eyelids weighing closed with exhaustion once more.
The first time she manages to stay awake, she finds herself feverish and delirious, a sheen of sweat clinging to her skin as waves of hot, sharp pain emanate from her wounds and a throbbing headache pulses behind her eyes.
She blinks rapidly to fight the bright overhead fluorescent lighting burning her retinas as they adjust to the brightness of the room. Her eyes fall on the figures of Chad and Liv, easily recognizing the yellow and blue of his Woodsboro Panthers letterman jacket and the electric pink staining her hair through the light invading her vision. They’re cuddled up and whispering to one another in a soft haven of cushioned seating and blankets in the far corner, their signature colors swirling together in a hazy blur. They don’t make any indication that they notice she’s awake, nor do the other presences Tara’s dimly aware of in the room.
She swallows, and her dry, tattered throat erupts with a sharp spike of pain in complaint. She needs water desperately. She moves to retrieve it herself, eager for a reason to escape the overly warm confines of the bed, but the attempt earns her a wave of agonizing pain that ripples through her sore and tired muscles. A pained groan falls from her chapped lips and her body trembles as she settles back into the cushions.
All at once, there’s a wave of equally concerned and disapproving exclamations directed at her, and everyone in the room launches themselves forward to crowd the outskirts of her bed. With the slow arc of her head, she finds the relieved faces of Amber Chad, Liv, and Mindy—her girlfriend and all of their best friends, save for Wes.
Amber tuts, looking Tara over worriedly. “Strict bed rest for now, Tara, doctor's orders. We’ll get anything you need.”
“Good morning! Or good night, technically. Sleeping beauty, meet the world!” Chad gestures grandly at the foot of her bed, a grin stretched across his face that shows off the perfect, white slates of his teeth.
At Tara's right, Mindy sighs. "Please, please, don't almost get murdered again. I don't think my heart can take it."
"What she means is, we're all so, so glad you're okay!" Liv says, overly chipper to make up for Mindy's lack of enthusiasm.
"Obviously that's what I meant."
Tara swallows again in a desperate attempt to fight the coarse desert landscape in her mouth, but her body doesn’t produce any saliva to help smooth it over.
“Water, medicine,” she croaks, her voice unfamiliar in its raucous quality. She presses the wired remote at her side that’s meant to deliver more drugs into veins, but she notices the IV bag is empty. She groans in protest, pressing the button a few more times to somehow manifest more of the liquid serum.
Mindy steps forward and presses a button right of her head to a soft beep and a red indicator dimly glowing in her peripheral. “Nurse should be here soon now,” she says.
“I’ll get you some water,” Liv volunteers, just as eager to help somehow. She shuffles behind Mindy to reach the door as Mindy pulls up a chair to Tara’s bed. The room is smaller than the one she had originally been in, making it a tight fit between the bulky chairs and medicinal equipment. She lingers in the doorway to give Tara a smile meant to be reassuring, but it only brings Tara’s attention to her red and swollen eyes, a clear indicator that she’d previously been crying. She disappears into the hall, the conversation of nurses outside becoming audible for long enough to only catch a few words before they disappear with the click of the door.
"Oh, thank God, now that Liv’s gone we can really party,” Amber tries to joke to smooth over the silent discomfort that's settled over the room.
Tara is left wondering why her friend would be crying for all but a blissful second of naivety, then remembers all at once that their soft-hearted friend Wes isn’t simply absent, but he was carved up by a serial killer in cold blood and lies as an empty shell of himself in a morgue somewhere. Tears of grief prickle in her eyes at the realization, worsening her headache and drawing out another pained noise from her throat.
At least he’s with his mother, wherever they are. The pair truly adored and understood each other in a way that made Tara envious.
Amber begins to pull her chair forward to sit closer to Tara’s bed as Mindy did, the metal legs grinding against the tile with a low screech. Tara’s hand goes in search of her touch, reaching aimlessly in her direction. Amber’s knees press against the side guard of her bed and her hand finds Tara’s, interlacing their fingers.
“Hi,” Amber whispers, bringing up her other hand to tuck the hair that clings to her face with sweat behind her ear. Her fingertips stroke her cheek with a feather touch, as though Tara’s flesh is delicate porcelain that threatens to fall apart. Ceramic that splits under a blade and crushed underfoot—maybe now she'll forever be a broken girl, held together in fragile, shattered pieces.
Tara makes a small noise of acknowledgement and squeezes her hand weakly, not able to muster the ability to properly speak around her parched mouth and the ache seeping deep into her bones. She blinks lethargically as she takes in her girlfriend’s appearance. Her hair hangs loosely over her shoulders, her face bare. She’s devastatingly beautiful, she always is, and Tara feels a twinge of love past all her misery. Letting her head fall back on her pillow, Tara closes her eyes to focus on dealing with her pressing discomfort. It doesn't help. She lets out a groan of complaint and her eyebrows screw together.
Amber’s fingers stroke her arm up and down, giving her mind and body something else to focus on. She can vaguely make out the words of the Meeks-Martin siblings, now engaged in a quiet dialogue about dinner plans.
Just as they decide on ordering out pizza, the room door abruptly swings open. It bangs against the doorstop like a harsh clap of thunder, while the starch white contours of a long, droopy ghoul Halloween mask flashes through her mind like lightning. Her senses brew a perilous storm of equal parts memory and reality that makes her heart jump with a cold strike of fear. It’s made audible by the quickening beeps of the heart monitor attached to her.
Amber squeezes her hand reassuringly.
There is no danger, no Ghostface—only Liv precariously balancing six small paper cups of water in her arms. Mindy laughs at her awkward display and Liv huffs in annoyance as she strides in, both oblivious to Tara’s anxiety.
“Stop laughing! They only have these tiny cups and she’s thirsty!”
“Yeah, but you don’t look any less like a sad, dehydrated juggler,” Mindy chuckles. She stands to help and takes a few cups from Liv’s busy arms. They both place them on the rolling overbed table next to Tara’s bed.
“A hot juggler at least,” Liv responds flatly.
Tara watches hazily as Liv returns to Chad’s side, arms crossed and her lanky form slouched with displeasure. When she notices Tara watching, the annoyance that Mindy drew out instantly melts away and a gentle smile pulls up the corners of her lips.
Chad puts his arm around her shoulder and they both grin at Tara like a proud, painfully straight suburban couple from the foot of her bed.
"Tara," Mindy calls to get her attention, standing ready with a cup of water to provide.
She lifts up her head, efforts supported by her friend’s steadying hand on her nape. The edge of the cup is guided to her lips and cold water is slowly poured into her mouth, pausing occasionally to give her a chance to swallow. Tara fervently gulps the contents of the cup, the coolness coating her throat pleasantly.
“Alrighttt,” Mindy drawls playfully, “You want more, thirsty lady?”
Tara shakes her head, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand to catch water dribbling down her chin.
“Thank you both,” she says, the burning in her throat finally eased. She attempts to give them an appreciative smile, but it only comes out as a wince as Tara fails to school her tensed facial muscles from their stiff, cadaverous impersonation of death incarnate.
The nurse arrives, entering with the polite precursor of a knock on the door. It’s not one Tara recognizes, being a young woman rather than the tall, dark-skinned man she saw in her brief moments of consciousness when he’d disturb her slumber with an apologetic smile to change her bandages, give medicine, or take vitals.
The new nurse’s eyes rove over the army of water cups on the table before she smiles kindly at Tara.
“Hi, I’m Amanda, your nurse for the night. Glad to see you’re awake, Tara,” she says.
“She needs more medication, she’s in a lot of pain,” Amber asserts, her demanding tone a stark contrast to the softness she reserves for Tara and, on a lesser scale, their friends.
“Alrighty.” The nurse steps next to Tara’s bed, navigating around Mindy in her chair. Her friend hangs her head back, watching the nurse with a growing smirk that is ignored. Amanda bends down to assess the chart on a clipboard hanging on Tara’s bed, next to Mindy’s knee. “Just to double check, no allergies, right?"
Amber looks to Tara before answering, “Just food-related ones."
Tara nods stiffly in confirmation, prompting the nurse to return to the doorway without any acknowledgement of Mindy’s interested gaze.
“I’ll be right back, Tara.”
“She shouldn’t have said that,” Mindy mutters darkly after Amanda leaves.
So they wait, each minute growing more agonizing. Tara is at least distracted by the mellow conversation her friends offer, updating her on superficial gossip.
Liv shows Tara a TikTok that she struggles to comprehend, having to rewatch it a few times before offering a dull reaction of, “very funny”. Liv beams anyways, still being more of an enthusiastic response than the blank stare Amber offers.
Amber is tense, irascibility sharpening her features. She seems more anxious about Tara receiving medication than Tara herself, a leg bouncing incessantly as she continues to brush her arm.
“I should go find her," Amber eventually says, "Tara’s in agony while she takes her sweet fucking time.”
Chad rolls his eyes. “Take a chill pill, Freeman, it’s been two seconds. That pretty little thing will be back with some good, good stuff for our Tara any minute now.”
The unnecessary objectification of the nurse earns him a scoff and a smack on his chest from Liv.
“She is hot, to be fair,” Mindy agrees, her smirk returning in full force.
With effort, Tara can recall nurse Amanda’s blonde waves hanging in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, flashes of blue eyes and a pleasant, gap-toothed smile. She slowly nods in agreement.
“See, even she agrees and she’s barely conscious.” Mindy gestures to Tara.
Chad pats her leg in a very rough, masculine, with the boys kind of way, jostling her with the force. “See, Carpenter gets it. My man.”
Amber clears her throat pointedly.
“M’no one’s as pretty as you,” Tara mumbles, the first full sentence she's managed so far, patting the hand that went still on her arm.
Mindy shakes her head. “That is seriously disgusting. Strapped to a hospital bed with seven stab wounds, a broken leg and countless superficial injuries, and you’re still simping.”
“It’s sweet, Mindy!” Liv coos, hands clasped together and smiling adoringly between the couple like she’s observing the most precious bundle of squirming newborn kittens.
Amber glares at both of them, but they’re spared from any biting words of vitriol by the nurse returning with a fresh IV bag.
“Let me get you situated, Tara, and you should be feeling better in no time,” Amanda says, double-checking the paperwork before she begins the process.
Tara watches idly as the nurse stretches up to place the new solution on the other side of the IV pole. She touches Tara’s arm briefly as she examines where the needle is taped into her arm, then she proceeds to switch the bags in smooth, practiced motions.
Soon enough, viscous liquid is seeping into her veins, making her shiver.
Amanda smiles apologetically. “Sorry, I know it feels cold, but that’s normal. I’ll be back real soon to change your bandages and bring you more blankets, do you need anything else?”
Tara shakes her head, and the nurse takes her leave with a broad wave of goodbye to the room.
The IV works relatively fast, and soon enough the pain and tension in her body melts away.
With considerable effort, Tara sits up to observe the room properly, her back supported by the mountain of pillows that was under her head. The fog of aches and agony is clear from her mind, but it's replaced with hazy, numbing euphoria that makes her body feel heavy all the same.
“Where’s Sam?” She asks groggily, taking note of her sister’s absence.
Amber looks between the others and they shift awkwardly, unsure of what to say. Tara can’t help but assume the worst, and her face drops with a wave of panic.
Amber quickly shakes her head with an amused smile, reading her expression. “She’s fine, don’t worry. She went to the morgue, said something about signing paperwork related to Hughie. His family is all the way in California or something, so she’s his nearest emergency contact. That was like an hour ago, though, so I think she just needs some time to herself.”
Tara nods slowly, heart tugging in sympathy. “I probably shouldn’t call her, then.”
“I think she could use some space,” Mindy adds, “she seemed super torn up. Never seen her like that before. But you know her better than us, she might like to hear your voice.”
“I’m sure she’ll be back soon anyway,” Amber reassures with a tight-lipped smile, brushing her head. Amber's discomfort at the mere mention of Sam is glaringly apparent, but she’s still abiding by Tara’s request for her to be cordial.
Tara smiles at her girlfriend and strokes the skin of Amber’s hand with her thumb where they’re still connected.
At the display of affection, Mindy theatrically puts a finger in her mouth and gags.
“Oh, shut up, you’re just mad that you’re single.” Tara rolls her eyes.
“I’m single on purpose, thank you very much. I have heaps of women lined up just for the chance to speak to me.”
Tara makes a show of looking around. “And are these supposed women in the room with us now?”
Mindy smacks her hands on her knees as she stands up. “You know what, I think I’ll finish the job for that bastard.”
“Mindy, no,” Amber and Liv say in unison.
“That psycho couldn’t get me, I’ll take you on any day, skinny beanpole,” Tara challenges.
Liv begins to call out again, this time with, “Tara, no–”
“Tara, yes,” Amber contrasts this time, cheering her on with the pump of a fist.
“Thanks babe, my number one supporter.”
Amber kisses her, chastely at first, but deepens it as groans sound throughout the room. Their lips separate with a pop and Amber flips off the other people in the room. “You guys are just homophobic,” she accuses.
Mindy holds up her hands. “Not homophobic, just a hater. I’m literally a lesbian,” she reasons as she flops back into her chair, “And Chad’s at least bi-curious.”
“What? no I’m not!”
“I’ve heard the noises that come out of the locker room when I pick you up from practice.”
“Those are just the normal sounds of male bonding!”
Liv looks between the twins, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What kind of noises?”
Mindy’s lips pull into a devilish grin before she begins letting out high pitch, porn-worthy moans. “Oh, Chad, Chad, right there!”
Chad covers his ears and begins making loud noises to drown out the sound until she stops, her teasing devolving into a devious cackle.
He shakes his head rapidly, eyes wide in horror. “I never want to hear my own sister moaning my name again. I need to drown myself in holy water.”
Tara laughs gravelly, clutching her side at the pain that emanates there from the heaving of her lungs.
Mindy shrugs and crosses her arms, leaning back casually in her armchair with a knee propped up. “Believe me, it’s way worse hearing the actual thing. My baby brother might not be as straight for you as you think, my dear Olivia.”
“Don’t call me that—and we’re committed this time! For real!”
“Exactly! I am so straight for Liv that we’re turning over a new leaf in our relationship!” Chad enthusiastically agrees.
Tara and Amber share an amused look. Liv and Chad’s tumultuous relationship is what they had been gossiping about when they last texted, before the traumatic events of the past few nights. The reminder doesn’t upset her like the door did, rather making her feel more at ease. It shows that nothing has to change. She doesn’t have to let it affect her and her relationships irreversibly.
“Does that mean you’ll finally have sex?” Amber asks, her full lips stretching into a leering smirk.
The couple stays silent. Amber’s eyebrows rise expectantly.
Chad’s voice goes a few octaves higher, “Well—“
“We decided to wait!” Liv interrupts with an overly sweet tone and an amiable smile.
Amber leans closer to Tara and whispers, “Liv’s pissed at him for sure.”
Tara nods in agreement, eager to support her girlfriend though her comprehension of the ongoing conversation is minimal.
Her girlfriend remains in close proximity, awkwardly bent over the side guard with the plastic digging into the bottom of her ribcage, her temple pressed against Tara’s shoulder.
Mindy groans at Chad and Liv. “Ok, seriously, you two are like rabbits when you’re with other people, what the fuck is your problem! I’m tired of listening to Chad complain.”
“Okay, okay,” Chad says, waving his arms dismissively, “We don’t have to talk about it anymore, how about that!”
“Stop with the gross PDA then, breeders.” Amber deadpans.
Mindy stands up with an irritated sigh. “I can’t stand third-wheeling anymore. You two are seriously no better,” she gestures to Amber and Tara, “You are actively clinging to her like a goddamn koala.”
Tara can feel Amber's smile growing against her arm. “Guilty as charged,” she says cheekily, throwing an arm over Tara's torso to properly hold her. Her fingers dig into the jutting landscape of her hip bone, the touch warm through the thin fabric of her hospital gown.
Tara turns her head and presses a kiss to Amber’s hair.
Mindy rolls her eyes. “I am homophobic actually. I’m gonna go get some food so I have an excuse to not see you people. Anyone hungry?”
Chad brightens. “Oh, me! Do you think they have red meat? Carbs? I’m bulking right now.”
Mindy shrugs, effectively ignoring him as she steps closer to the bedside. Tara’s let’s her head fall back onto the pillows as she looks up at her friend.
“Tara, are you hungry?”
Tara grins sheepishly and nods, slow blinking like an affectionate cat.
Mindy chuckles. “Okay, girl, you’re feeling that medicine now. I’ll get you whatever’s vegan.”
“Mashed potatoes?”
“Mashed potatoes,” Mindy agrees.
“Apple juice?”
“Apple juice. Anything else?”
Tara thinks, her mouth hanging open. She decidedly shakes her head, unable to think of anything beyond the soft, golden joy of mashed potatoes. She taps the top of Amber’s head with her cheek to get her attention. “Do you want anything?”
“No, I’m good.”
“Alright. Be right back—” Mindy pauses abruptly, her words hanging in the air like a noose. “Damn it! Why did I say that?” She shakes her head at herself. “Fuck! Shit, man. I can’t just not get Tara her food! She’s hungry! Fuck.”
The door clicks closed behind her as she leaves, silencing her continuous string of exasperated swears.
“She’s dead,” Amber deadpans matter-of-factly.
“She really is.” Chad sighs, his shoulders dropping with the long and melodramatic expulsion of air from his lungs. “I’m gonna go with her.”
He shuffles in small steps to follow after his sister, his shoulders tight with apprehension.
“Don’t die, sweetie!” Liv calls after him.
“Don’t try it, it’s not fun,” Tara agrees.
“Thanks,” he responds unenthusiastically, sidling through the doorway. He gives the room a pained smile and a thumbs up before he disappears in the same direction as his sibling.
Liv’s levels the wooden face of the closed door with a hard stare. “Now I feel like I need to go too.”
“Your funeral,” Amber says with a shrug.
“No one’s funeral, Amber.”
“No one else’s,” Tara corrects.
The room goes quiet.
“Yeah, I’m gonna go with them.”
“Adios, Olivia.” Amber waves her off with the slow wiggle of lithe fingers.
“Not you too, Amber! Don’t call me that.”
Amber snickers while Liv leaves with an annoyed huff. She sits closer and lets her head fall in Tara’s lap. “Finally just the two of us,” she mumbles into the sheet.
Tara strokes Amber's hair lightly. “Cuddle with me?”
“Oh, yes ma’am.” She straightens and wiggles her shoulders suggestively.
Tara scoots as far to the right as she can manage to give her space to fit in the narrow bed. Amber helps by gently tucking away the various wires attached to her and straightening the pillows as they get jostled by Tara’s movements.
Amber stands, noisily pushing back her chair as she turns to sitting on the padding, her legs hanging over the guard. Her head falls in Tara’s lap again, this time face up, allowing her to shoot Tara a charming smile and a wink as she kicks off her shoes.
With effort, one combat boot clatters to the ground, then the other. Amber then draws her legs into the bed, turning her body to be parallel with Tara’s.
She shifts to sit higher and angles towards Tara with her chest pressed against her shoulder, an arm snaking under Tara’s head to hold her with a hand on her shoulder. Her other hand crosses her body to hold Tara’s, intertwining their fingers once more.
Tara doesn’t quite know if the euphoria thrumming her veins is from their proximity or the drugs being pumped into her, but it makes her nerves tingle at her girlfriend’s touch at every place they’re connected. The warmth spreads up her neck, to her cheeks and then her ears as blood bubbles to her face.
Amber lets out a content sigh after she settles. “I’ve missed you,” she says, kissing Tara’s temple.
Tara brushes Amber’s arm idly. “All I could think of was you.”
“Hm?”
She closes her eyes, focusing the slow-turning gears in her brain on conjuring her thoughts eloquently. “When I was like, on the floor bleeding out, really convinced I was about to die. There wasn’t any ‘life flashing before my eyes’ moment. I thought about the future I would miss, not the past. I thought about finally having my sister again. Moving to New York with everyone, living in shitty, cockroach-infested apartments. The Christmases and all the shitty Meeks-Martins’ Halloween costumes I wouldn’t get to see. But mostly, I thought about you, our relationship.”
Amber blinks down at her. "What did you imagine for us? For our future?”
Tara turns her face away to hide the blush that begins to rise once more. “Oh god…”
“What? What is it?” Amber curiously presses.
She shakes her head, giggling. “It’s kinda embarrassing now, after very much not dying.”
“Ok, now you have to tell me.”
Tara giggles a bit more, finding it far more amusing than she should. Despite the pain it causes in her sides, it takes her a few moments to fight it. Feeling this light just from Amber's touch, her presence, it's like the drug she’s under the influence of is her and not the opioids. She's intoxicating. “Okay, fine. Don’t laugh.”
“Scout’s honor.”
Tara blinks slowly. “You were never a scout, that means literally nothing.”
“Exactly, you get it.”
Tara laughs more, but it dies out quickly this time. She plays with Amber’s fingers while she musters the bravery to say the words bouncing around in her head like a tennis ball. Her lowered inhibition does nothing to make the truth less embarrassing.
“I… thought… of our wedding,” she slowly confesses, plucking each word from her brain and forcing it out of her mouth. They’ve only been dating a year so it feels quick to bring up marriage, but she already knows its something she wants with Amber. She wants everything with Amber.
Amber’s smile grows coy, her cheeks blossoming into a rosy pink. Mirth dances in her eyes.
Tara glares. “You said you wouldn’t laugh!”
“I’m not!” Amber’s cheeks brighten as she shakes her head. “Why would I laugh at that?”
“You hate romance and weddings!”
“I hate society’s capitalistic ideals of romance—” Tara rolls her eyes, and Amber squeezes her hand placatingly. “But, I also love you and everything our relationship comes with, present and future.”
Tara’s blush grows. The rush of blood makes her feel even more loopy. “That doesn’t scare you? A future with me?”
“Depends," she teases, "What was the wedding like?”
Tara’s capacity for conversation is quickly diminishing, her muscles growing uncooperative. She moves her jaw experimentally, unused to the tingling, dissociative feeling. “What do you want it to be like?” she drawls.
“Aw, you can’t hold out on me now.”
“I’m not! I want to listen to you talk.”
Amber tilts her head and inspects Tara. Tara's hair is brushed behind her ear again before Amber complies with surprising earnestness. “In my mind, it would be a small, private affair. The venue could even just be in a backyard. My backyard would probably be good—there’s enough room to have an aisle, some chairs, and everything. Definitely in Autumn, preferably October for the Halloween season. Purple, or an orange color theme? Maybe both.” She hums thoughtfully. “Purple," she decides, "Like a soft purple, a duller lilac. I think you’d look beautiful in a long, lilac-ish wedding dress, some lace accents but nothing too fancy. I imagine I’d be crying like a baby watching you walk down the aisle no matter what you’re wearing, though.”
Tara has to angle her torso away somewhat to be able to see Amber’s face without her neck complaining. She gives her girlfriend a loopy grin, her heart doing a gymnastics routine in her chest at the picture of intamacy she painted. She's never actually seen Amber cry, and she seems convinced she would—will. “That sounds really, really nice.”
Amber idly runs two fingers up and down her opposite arm and continues, “One day, I’ll ask you to elope and we can fuck off to greener pastures. No wedding needed.”
“And I’ll say yes." Tara ponders on it. She's probably not in the right mindspace to lock down any future plans. "Probably.”
"Probably," Amber mocks good-naturedly. Her lips pull into a wider smile as she looks at Tara, truly looking like a marvel with her brown eyes glinting in the bright fluorescents. Tara’s eyes trace the pull of her facial muscles as the apples of her cheeks rise and brighten.
Suddenly Amber shields her eyes, giggling. Every small movement pulls Tara’s gaze like a magnet, feeling like she has to watch closely to mark this moment in her brain forever.
“You look so stupidly love-struck right now. It’s even making me sick, no wonder everyone else left.”
Tara’s brain is slow in processing her words, and she looks around the empty room numbly before she understands what she means. “If you’re feeling sick, I can play doctor for you,” she says, putting on her best sultry tone even though her scratched-up throat doesn’t cooperate.
“Oh my God, Tara Carpenter, you are way too high.”
She giggles, pointing to herself. “I’m high,” she repeats with puffed cheeks, finding unnecessary amusement at the realization.
“I take it you’re feeling better now?”
“I would feel better if you kissed me.” Tara pouts theatrically and drags a finger down her cheek to motion a tear falling. Her body moves with a delayed response to her brain that makes it feel like she’s moving through molasses. She gets distracted by the sensation, looking at her hand and watching as it seems to have a double as she waves it in front of her. “Amber, look, isn’t that weird?”
Amber watches her hand and nods slowly, her lips in a tight smile, trying to restrain her amusement. Tara’s vision is narrowing, so her eyes have to bounce around her face to take in her expression.
“So impressive, baby,” Amber coos, holding her tighter.
Tara literally giggles and kicks her feet at the pet name, needing to exert the happiness that surges and spills out of her heart, filling up the cavity of her rib cage. “Wow, that’s so gay.”
“I’m so gay for you.”
“I’m gayer for you more.”
Amber pokes her nose, making Tara gasp.
“Maybe you should get stabbed more often if it turns out with you being this cute and lovey-dovey.”
At the reminder, she pulls up her sheet and looks down the length of her body, trying to spot the injuries through her hospital gown. The events of the past two nights don’t feel real anymore, the memories playing back in her brain like she’s watching the trauma of a character in a film rather than herself.
She slowly presses the hand not currently tangled in Amber's to her front, where she knows she got stabbed, and sure enough a wave of pain shoots through her. She flinches and jumps into Amber’s side.
“Tara?”
“Hmm?” She hums and swings her head in a slow arc to look at Amber once more. Her tongue pressing against the back of her teeth is too heavy to form words and her mouth feels like cotton, numbness prickling the nerves. She blinks half-lidded at her girlfriend, now requiring conscious effort to process her vision. Amber’s expression is strangely austere, harshened by the unspoken thoughts clearly whirling around in her beautiful, intelligent mind.
“You should get some sleep. I’ll be with you, I’ll keep you safe," Amber says eventually.
Tara sinks further in her bed, the idea of sleep sounding more and more appealing. “Kiss me goodnight?” She slurs, having to enunciate her mouth purposefully around the words.
Amber shakes her head incredulously but leans towards her anyway, weak to her demands. Tara puckers her mouth, but the kiss is directed to her forehead instead of waiting lips.
“Hey! My girlfriend hates me so much,” she drawls, hitting her fist weakly against the bed in a half-hearted tantrum.
Said girlfriend laughs, and any frustration she had at the stolen kiss melts away at the paradisal sound. She leans back further into her pillow to get a better view of Amber as her head is thrown back, long neck on display as amusement seizes her lungs. Pulling tendons ripple at the surface of her throat and Tara wishes she could press a kiss to the soft landscape, yearns to feel her pulse quicken with the drag of her teeth.
Oblivious to Tara’s lascivious thoughts, Amber brushes the top of her head, starting from her hairline and pushing loose strands out of her face as blunt fingernails drag softly on her scalp.
A smile pulls at Tara’s lips unconsciously, eyes flitting up and down Amber’s brilliant visage with heavy eyelids until they’re weighed closed, lulled to sleep by her touch.
Mashed potatoes forgotten.