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I was okay. Totally fine. Completely normal.
So long as I did not move, speak, breathe too hard, or open my eyes.
I was laying face down on my bed inside my darkened bedroom, the curtains still drawn and my sheets over my head to block out any extra light that leaked through. I needed total darkness and simply closing my eyes wasn't enough since I'd still see the light through my eyelids. I'd been completely still for long enough that I just about felt human again, but when a sound behind me grabbed my attention and made me jump, all that work had been ruined.
“Arghh.” I groaned in agony once the pain caught up with me. I'd cranked myself upright and twisted around to see the source of the noise, and come face to face with bright, neon green. Nausea swirled in my stomach as I buried my face in my pillow again, gripping the sides of my head, on the verge of tears at the sharp, burning, throbbing, pounding…
“The fuck’s the matter with you? I-I-I'm about to call you out on your shit, honey, you moaned at me the other day for having a shit sleep schedule, what time do you call this, hmm?” Rick grumbled as he stepped through the portal. I could feel his eyes on me, and when I didn't reply I heard him moving. “Wakey wakey. Let's take a- have you even seen the sun today?
“Oh god please don't.” I groaned, knowing that he was heading for my curtains.
“Huh?”
“Don't open the curtains. Please. And don't… don't speak so loud. Don't make me talk.” I murmured softly.
Rick was quiet for a while before he approached me, taking a seat next to me on the bed. I sensed him staring at me for a long while, my stillness was bringing me back to normality.
“Migraine again, huh?” He questioned, his usually abrasive voice turning softer. Smooth as butter. I didn't dare answer now that the pain had dulled to a deep throb in time with my heartbeat that made my whole body feel like it was twitching. Believe it or not, that was a relief.
Rick sighed softly, gingerly reaching out and stroking his hand over the back of my head. Over and over, his palm moved down from the crown of my head to the bottom of my neck, gently, slowly, soothingly. It felt good, it was a distraction and the repetitive motion relaxed the muscles in my neck and face.
“Is that nice? Wiggle your fingers if it is.” He whispered.
I almost laughed, but I knew it wouldn't be a good idea. It was nice of Rick to be considerate of my predicament, despite his gruff exterior and his knack for being insensitive when compassion did not benefit him, he could most definitely be a nice guy. I wiggled my fingers where they rest next to my head on the pillow.
“I'm guessing you've already taken some painkillers?” He mused, obviously spotting the package of pills and half empty glass of water on the bedside table. I nodded my head slowly, weakly; I'd had as many as I was able to take and it hadn't touched the pain. That was usually how it went.
Rick had never seen me suffering like this. I'd mentioned it to him before, explained that I was prone to headaches; headaches that turned to migraines whenever life felt like being cruel. He'd accused me of lying, a number of times, since my migraines often happened to fall when Rick wanted to drag me off planet, or have sex with me. He'd drop me a text, asking me if I was up for whatever particular whim he had in mind and I'd just about manage to keep my eyes open long enough to bang out a refusal text to him before wrapping myself up in my duvet and giving him radio silence after that. He'd taken a lot of convincing at first that it wasn't just a measly excuse, oh how I wished it was. The truth is, it was my reality… and at its worst, I was completely miserable.
Rick's hand was still working its magic on my skull. He'd changed his tactic, using his fingertips to draw circles all over my scalp, massaging me so nicely that I let loose an appreciative, yet quiet, moan. At this, he shifted his position on the bed and used both hands, drawing symmetrical little patterns over my head, sending tingles all over. He was good with his hands, in more ways than one, it seemed.
“I can give you some, uh, s-some decent shit. Painkillers I mean. Not- not this crappy aspirin. When did you last take some?” He asked.
“I dunno… whatever time the clock says. I stopped it cause the ticking was making me wanna hurl.” I told him. He laughed, a quiet sound that was just a few sharp exhales. I wanted to roll my eyes, how dare he laugh at my suffering?
“Better give it a little longer. Y-y-you don't wanna mix my stuff with aspirin or it'll give you the shits like you wouldn't believe. Trust me, I've been there.” He told me. His ministrations were helping me enough that I could accept waiting a little longer. Nobody had ever given me a head massage before. And damn did I appreciate it.
“Thank you.” I whispered.
“Hm?” He grunted in response.
“This feels nice.” I told him. Rick laughed again, that same quiet, considerate laugh.
“Don't mistake this as an act of selfless kindness. I came over here because I wanted to try out this new lube I got. 'Supposed to make sex feel like, t-ten thousand times better. Bought it on the interdimensional version of the dark web, so- so you know it'll be wild. Sooner we get your noggin back to normal, sooner we can- can get down to business.”
“Anything that's come from the deep web isn't going anywhere near my lady garden.” I informed him.
“I said the interdimensional version of the deep web; baby, it's way more reputable.” He explained.
“Not a chance.” I insisted. Rick sighed, but it sounded like he'd expected nothing less.
“Fair enough. I mainly bought it because it doubles as a decent stain remover, anyway. I-I-I fucked up a pair of pants the other day. All we had in the house was Beth's wine, and well, you work it out.” He grumbled.
“Hmm, suddenly very relieved I said no, for some reason.” I chuckled, wincing into the pillow when my brain threatened to explode. Well, that's what it felt like, at least.
“Feeling any better?” He asked me. In truth, I was. I was sure a lot of my headaches came from tension, so a massage was helping to relieve some of that. It was by no means gone, but whether it was just from his presence or his massage, Rick had helped distract me from the pain.
“A little. Let me sit up.” I told him. Rick retracted his hands and I gingerly lifted myself up, slowly twisting to sit upright on my bed. My head throbbed, of course, but after a few moments it settled down again. It was all about moving slowly, you see.
“Uhh, sorry. I kinda- I kinda fucked up your hair. Big time.” He told me. I opened my eyes to get a look at him, he was staring at my hair in amusement. I considered my words for a while, and decided to milk his good mood and my ailment for all I could.
“Well, my hairbrush is over there.” I gestured towards my dresser. “You can fix it.” I smiled at him. Rick cocked a brow at me but got up to retrieve my wooden paddle brush anyway.
“You're lucky I think you're hot, you know that? Otherwise I-I wouldn't waste my time playing nurse. You're too handy to have around when I wanna get some.” He told me, his back to me as he inspected the brush. “A wooden hair brush? Who- who the fuck owns a wooden hair brush these days?”
“I do. It's good for your hair.” I said as Rick climbed back onto the bed, this time sitting behind me, leaning up against the headboard. His long legs stretched out either side of me.
“Good for- which bullshit company fed you that and ripped you off?” He questioned, and I knew he was searching the brush for a logo or brand name. I smirked in amusement.
“It distributes the natural oils through your hair. It's good for it.” I elaborated, hearing him scoff in disbelief. I felt the rounded tips of the brush’s teeth meet the top of my head and quickly said; “Start from the bottom. It'll hurt if you do it like that.” I warned him.
“Yeah, I know how to brush hair. Sheesh.” He said defensively, but lifted the brush and moved it down towards the ends of my hair.
He was surprisingly gentle as he brushed my hair. Going very slowly whenever he felt the brush tug on knots, moving up the length of my hair inch by inch only when he'd brushed out the knots thoroughly. I could feel the teeth of the brush moving down my back too, tickling me in the most relaxing of ways.
Having my hair brushed was perhaps one of the most relaxing things I'd ever experienced. I even loved it as a child, so long as the person doing it was gentle. The sensation of those rounded, soft tips of the hairbrush bristles drawing lines over my scalp and down my back, the sound of them moving through detangled hair like ocean waves, the way the act created a certain kind of intimacy with another person... It was one of my favourite things, and it saddened me that since childhood, having my hair brushed by another person had become a rarity.
I picked up one of the large pillows scattered on my bed and hugged it into my chest, leaning against it as Rick worked higher. He picked up sections of my hair with his free hand, allowing his fingers to follow the brush back down as he combed through. I could hear him breathing, long, slow breaths, and I wondered if he was becoming relaxed too. He'd reached my scalp now and was brushing out the worst of the tangles he'd created with his fingers earlier, he was even more gentle now than he had been before. If he caught a knot more harshly than he deemed okay, he'd apologise. I'd smile. I didn't often see Rick act this way, so gentle and considerate. It's not that he was a complete careless prick every other day, but he was never this peaceful; seemingly content to just sit quietly and do something that had no benefit for him.
Unless he was expecting a blowjob after this, then I couldn't really blame him either.
“Almost done, sweetie.” He told me. I hummed softly, disappointed for it to be nearly over. I took a deep breath and I heard Rick do the same. After a stretch of quiet where he got the last of the knots out, he spoke again. “Th-this takes me back.” He uttered.
Despite the fact that my hair was knot free, he kept brushing. Right from the top of my head down to the tips of my hair, over and over.
“To when Beth was a kid. She'd make me brush her hair a hundred times before bed, and I'd have to count aloud. It was some crap her mother had told her, I hated her for that.” He chuckled. “But it wasn't so bad. I-i-it was one of the only times Beth would sit quietly and behave herself at that age. Before I left.” He told me, his tone distinctively nostalgic, melancholic even.
“I can see why she behaved herself. It feels lovely.” I said.
“Don't get any ideas. I'm not doing this every night.” He told me, stopping altogether.
“Aww.” I whined sadly, only half joking. I heard a ruffling sound, then a clinking of something rattling around in glass. Rick reached his arm around me to offer me something. He dropped them into my palm before reaching for my glass of water. It was his medicine.
“Take those. You'll be right as- as rain in less than an hour.” He told me, handing me the glass. I took them without question, finishing off my water as I did.
“Thank you.” I whispered, turning my head to look at him. My headache had reduced to a dull, constant ache. I hoped those pills would rid me of it completely.
“Don't mention it.” He said, his expression bored, though I could see that it was carefully assembled. Something in his mood had shifted, and I believed it had something to do with his reminiscing. He'd become softer. He stared at me for a while, keeping my eye contact before tutting and rolling his eyes as if giving in to me. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me back to lean against his chest. It looked almost as if I'd been badgering him to do so, with the defeated sigh he gave as he leaned back; but obviously I hadn't.
I always found it amusing that Rick had a way of making his ideas seem like my ideas whenever it suited him.
I didn't mind though, I leaned into him, resting my head against his shoulder, relaxing against the rise and fall of his chest. The gentle up and down motion of my body was soothing and I closed my eyes, simply waiting for the drugs to kick in and make me better.
Rick kissed the top of my head; just once.
I smiled.