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It was the typical weekend at The Last Drop.
Like a little trophy, were perched between Sevika’s strong thighs as she played a round of cards. Your gaze trailed down the warm-toned skin of her scarred arms, up to her hands, which held a lucky set, though her piercing eyes betrayed nothing to the other players.
She adjusted the cigarillo between her teeth and leaned back with a quiet confidence. It was the same confidence that drew you into her years ago.
Though, frankly, she made up for the confidence you lacked.
Your demeanor was small. Next to your card-shark of a wife, you were perhaps a guppy, one she liked to keep close and safe. You were cute, and sweet. The city would be a harsh place for you if it weren’t for your intensely protective wife.
A strong metal hand pressed against your stomach, holding you close. Cigar smoke wafted in a wisp over your shoulders, sending gentle butterflies down your skin as she rested her chin up on the top of your head.
She of all people would notice if you were less responsive than usual.
“Everything okay, babes?” she asked in a calm, hushed tone.
“Mhm,” you mumbled. You felt a little off, but nothing drastic. It would pass, surely. Your soft smile brightened and warmed the neon dimness of the bar.
“I’ll take your word for it,” she huffed, before returning to her card game. This time, her metallic hand rested casually on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.
You squirmed with a playful smile, before settling in.
As the night drew on, that “off” feeling turned into discomfort. Your body felt tired and heavy, and your face seemed to heat up (moreso than it would’ve from Sevika’s ministrations). On top of that, you had the sniffles.
The round finished with a win for one of Sevika’s friends. It was a small bet kind of night, so she wasn’t too disappointed. She felt your head rest against her shoulder as you shifted in her lap. She could feel you burning up.
“Are you sure you’re feeling yourself?” she asked with a hint of concern.
“I don’t feel good,” you admitted, in a pathetic mumble. At least, you felt pathetic. But, as soon as those words left your lips, Sevika stood, keeping you scooped up in her arms. It didn’t exactly help the heat on your face to feel your wife’s muscles against you.
You rested your chin up on her shoulder, one arm grasping at her shirt. “Let’s get you home, baby,” keeping you close, she trudged out the backdoor of the bar.
Your memory came and went. Between those sickly little microsleeps, you remembered a bit of the walk home, and the familiar warmth of the home you shared. You recall her changing you into one of her t-shirts, and placing a cold, damp towel on your forehead.
Here’s the thing about Sevika: at first glance, she may not seem the loving type. Many assume her to be a selfish lover with you, that she only sees you as arm candy, because they can’t comprehend her caring for another person like that.
But you know better.
When Sevika cares for someone—really cares for someone—she’ll take care of them. She’ll protect them. It’s the little things, really. She’ll see to it that your coffee is ready when you wake up, and she’ll fix things for you should they break. She’ll make sure you’re in your most comfortable clothes when you’re sick.
She’ll make sure you’re okay.
Unfortunately, you didn’t feel much better the next morning. If anything, you felt slightly worse. The sickness needed to run its course, after all.
Sevika should have been at work by now, but instead, she was sitting right beside you, stroking your hair with a tenderness she only ever showed you. “How’re you feeling?” her voice was low, so as not to startle you.
“Mmph…” you could barely mumble anything with the scratchiness in your throat. You sneezed into your elbow. She frowned softly.
“Sit tight”. She got up.
You whined softly at the lack of her presence. She came back minutes later with a warm mug of tea.
“Drink”.
As the day progressed, you quickly realised she’d likely taken the day off of work to do this.
She spent the whole day tending to you, making sure you ate something and kept hydrated. When you were hot, she prepared the cold wash cloth. When you were cold, she’d hold you under the blankets, running her strong hand up and down your side affectionately, to soothe your aches.
You looked like a kicked puppy, to her.
That night, Sevika took the empty dishes to the kitchen. When she came back, you were still shivering. At her presence, you whimpered softly.
“What do you need, baby?” she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Her piercing gray eyes softened at the sight of you.
You whined, with a weak cough. “Cuddles…”.
She rolled her eyes with a huff. “Unbelievable. You’re insatiable”. Despite her gruffness, she climbed right into bed beside you, pulling you close in her strong arms.
You snuggled in like a perfect puzzle piece. Your head rested against her chest, tucked under her chin. She kept her remaining hand on your ass (typical), while the metal one ran gently up and down your spine, which was significantly less uncomfortable than you’d think. The metallic cold of her prosthetic was a relief to the heat. She soothed you like the wounded animal you were, pressing a kiss to your warm forehead.
“Don’t get sick…” you mumbled softly.
“Baby, if I’m gonna get sick, I think it’s too late for that,” she pulled you closer.
“Sevi…” your voice was small, and a little raspy.
“Hm?” she looked down at you, taking in your weak, clingy form. Your eyes were all glassy and half-lidded.
“I love you…”.
Sevika smirked. “Love you too, short stuff”. She pressed a second kiss to your cheek.
When you were better a few days later, you would show her immense thanks.