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Melissa sank down at the kitchen table and rested her head on the wood. She wanted to sleep for a thousand years. Or maybe have a drink. Several drinks.
The chair beside her slid over the tile, and she looked up
to see John taking the seat and setting a bottle of Johnnie Walker and two
glasses on the table. Almost like he'd read her mind.
"How is everybody?" he asked.
Melissa nodded. "The werewolves are healing and the humans are patched up. No life-threatening injuries. Lydia went in to see Scott as soon as I left the room, and Derek and Stiles sounded like they were about to have their usual post-fight fight, so I'm pretty sure everyone will live to fight another day."
John poured her a drink and slid the tumbler her way. "Sounds like you've earned yourself a break, Nurse Delgado."
Melissa barked a laugh and took a drink. Oh, that hit the spot. "Are you encouraging drinking on the job, Sheriff?"
"Hey, you just told me you were off the clock," John said. "Were you lying to an officer of the law?"
His lips twitched at the end of the sentence, and Melissa snorted into her glass. "I like to live dangerously."
John poured himself a drink and tapped his glass against hers. "That's not too difficult to do in Beacon Hills."
Truer words had never been spoken. Melissa sighed. "Even easier when your son's a werewolf."
Their lives, seriously. Melissa sometimes had to sit back and just...boggle at how ridiculous it was, sometimes. If you'd told her when Scott started high school that this was where they'd end up by the time he graduated, she'd have laughed herself sick.
John rubbed her shoulder, and Melissa actually groaned aloud. God, that felt amazing.
"That okay?" he asked, concern lacing his voice.
"That's more than okay," Melissa said, and pulled her hair forward to give him easier access.
He dug his thumbs into her shoulders, and Melissa refused to be ashamed of the noise she made. She hadn't realized how tense she was, how stressful the past few weeks had been, but apparently it had been pretty rough.
John worked his way down her back to her shoulder blades, and then back up to her neck. Melissa did her best not to whimper at how good it felt, but that was probably a lost cause. She still needed sleep, but a drink and a massage were working wonders for her exhaustion.
"Thank you," she said. "That's fantastic."
John cleared his throat and patted her shoulders. "I can't count the number of times you've patched up my kid over the years. I probably owe you a few more massages."
"Mm." Melissa turned back to the table so she could get her drink. "If you're feeling called to repay medical services with massages, I'm sure not going to stop you."
John laughed. "If that's the case, I'll be giving you massages for a year straight. I'm not sure my hands can handle that these days."
Melissa reached over and squeezed his hand. "I don't know, you were doing a pretty good job there."
To her surprise, John actually blushed, and his blue gaze dropped to their hands.
Quickly, Melissa took her hand away. "Sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
He smiled wryly. "You didn't."
Oh. Melissa stared at him, trying to decode the look on his face, which was maybe...hopeful?
She'd mentally slotted John into a box of "look but don't touch" a long time ago for a variety of reasons, and she hadn't considered revisiting it. Maybe, when he'd taken off his wedding ring, she should've.
She smiled and tentatively took his hand again. "So this is okay?"
"More than okay." His cheeks were still red, but he turned his hand over so that he was actually holding hers. "But I think this is a little better."
Melissa's smile grew so wide it actually hurt, and she rubbed her thumb along the side of his hand. "Yeah. Much better."