Work Text:
Prompt: “I’m going to sit here until you’re ready to talk. No matter how long it takes.”
My body froze in surprise when I heard the door slam shut, slowly folding the corner of the page of my book over and closing the book. The lock clicks as I set my book on the bedside table and push the sheets back off from my bare legs.
I hear heavy boots walk through the apartment and the sound of the cupboard being opened and closed, followed by the kitchen sink running. Frank must be home and since he didn’t come straight to our room to greet me, it must have been a rough night. Rougher than usual.
I bite the corner of my lip, getting out of bed, Frank’s shirt I’m wearing falling just above my knees. I quietly walk out of the bedroom towards the living room and see Frank in the kitchen.
He’s leaned against the counter, a glass of water in his hand. Even though the lights aren’t on in the kitchen, the glow from the lamp in the living room I always leave on for when he gets home illuminates his form.
He’s still wearing his usual black jacket and shirt with dark jeans and his black work boots. I can barely see the various colored bruises scattered along his jaw and cheekbones.
There’s one fresh cut visible on his cheek that appears to need stitches and I’m certain there are more that are worse somewhere on his body. His soft brown eyes are focused on the ground, seeming to be lost in thought.
“Frank?..”
I finally speak, keeping my voice soft so I don’t startle him from his thoughts. He slowly drags his gaze up towards me when he hears my voice, his eyes carefully searching my face over, his gaze appearing almost empty.
I let out a breath slowly, walking up to him and stopping when I’ve reached him. I gently take the cup from his grasp, setting it on the counter and taking his hand.
“C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”
I keep my voice quiet, gently tugging his hand along with me as I walk towards the bathroom. He moves away from the counter, following me to the bathroom without a word.
I know better than to ask him what happened right when he got back. Not that he’d get mad, but I knew it was something he wouldn’t want to linger on. I knew he tried to keep what he did in those late nights away from me when he returned home.
I walk into the bathroom, turning the light on and grabbing the first-aid kit from the medicine cabinet. As I grab the kit, Frank removes his jacket and slowly pulls off his shirt. He barely makes any sound, but I hear the slight groan and notice him grit his teeth as he raises his arms above his
shoulders.
Seeing him hurt makes my heart ache a little, just as it does every time he comes home with new battle scars. I bite my lip as I take a cotton pad out from the kit and pour some rubbing alcohol over it.
I stand in front of him, my eyes finally able to see his face more clearly in the light. I notice a few more blue and purple splotches now added to join
the other yellow and green ones that were healing.
“It’s gonna sting a little, okay?”
I tell him, carefully looking to his expression. His eyes look up to me and although his expression remains neutral, I can see the light-hearted glint in his gaze.
“I think I can take it, sweetheart.”
I manage a small smile, gently running the cotton pad around the cut to clean up the dried blood and dabbing it over the opening. His hands move to my waist, gently pulling me towards him to sit on his lap. He turns his head to the side, allowing me a better view of his fresh cut.
Frank doesn’t move a muscle, his eyes focused on the bathroom floor as I clean the blood from his face and stitch up the cut on his cheek.
When I finish with his face, I gently kiss his forehead and look over his torso, noticing a few rather large bruises forming near his ribcage, but no other cuts needing to be stitched. I run a washcloth under the warm water and gently wipe away the blood on his chest.
Any other day, Frank removing his shirt would cause my cheeks to warm and a smirk to make its way to my lips. But this isn’t any normal night that
we’re spending at home or any other night when he’s come home from being out going after god knows who.
“All better.”
I say softly with a slight smile, placing a soft kiss at the corner of his lips. It’s what I always say after cleaning him up when he comes home with new injuries. He pecks my cheek before I move off his lap.
I start to put everything back in the kit as he gets up and walks into the bedroom. I put the kit away as he removes his boots and socks and starts to unbuckle his belt.
I climb back into bed, watching as he removes his jeans, setting his clothes and shoes aside and walking over to the other side of the bed. I know there’s no chance he’ll be falling asleep immediately.
“You know, I’m going to be here until you’re ready to talk. No matter how long it takes.”
I say as I look to him through the darkness of the room, shifting my gaze down towards the blankets as he climbs into bed, laying down and pulling the sheets over him. He looks over at me and holds his arms open.
“C’mere..”
He mumbles, looking up at me, his eyes searching my face. A small smile finds its way to my lips as I lay back and gently rest my head and on his bare chest and my hand across his stomach.
He pulls the sheets over me and wraps his arms around me.
“I know. I just wanna hold you right now.”
He says, his voice low as he shuts his eyes. I smile softly, pressing a kiss to his chest as I close my eyes.
“I love you.”
He mumbles against my hair as he presses a kiss to the top of my head. I exhale contently, finally feeling relaxed now that he was home.
“Love you too.”