Work Text:
Cleo made a face at her thigh. Namely, at the skin that was starting to peel away.
They’d been sloppy, was the problem. And their stitches were loose and messy, and now they had to redo the whole thing.
She ran her hand over the recently repaired blanket on her bed. Hm…
“B,” she called. He looked over at her from where he was making hot chocolate at the furnace. “When you’re done with that, can you give me a hand?”
“Sure thing,” he said.
A few minutes later, she had a cup of hot cocoa in her hands, and Bigb was sitting on her bed examining her thigh.
They handed him their sewing kit, and he pulled their thigh into his lap and got to work. They sipped their cocoa, watching as he ran the needle through their skin. Their decaying flesh felt almost alive under his touch.
He started humming a tune. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, letting his deep voice and gentle touch wash over her.
They found themselves tracing patterns on Bigb’s arm. They leaned forward to steal a brief kiss. He gave them that soft smile, the one that never failed to make their chest warm.
By the time he was tying off the thread, Cleo was half-asleep on his arm. He put away the sewing kit and gently maneuvered her into bed. He started to leave, but she made a sleepy protest and dragged him back. He giggled, and climbed into bed with her.
They curled up around him, feeling safe and warm and alive.