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“Heard you had a run in with a metal sheet today.”
Scotty looked up from the floor after kicking off his boots to see you sitting at a chair, some kind of book in hand. “Tis but a scratch,” He replied, waltzing over to kiss your forehead. “Doctor McCoy knows what he's doin.”
“You'd say that even after getting your arm cut off.” There was a soft huff of a laugh that the Scotsman couldn't help but let out.
“Aye, maybe.” He then pressed your temple. At this you leaned your head back, looking up at the engineer. He looked tired. Despite that, he pressed a quick kiss to your lips before pulling away and standing straighter. “I'm hoppin’ in.”
“Want some company?” You asked, watching him already turn and leave into the bedroom. But he stopped for a moment to look back at you.
“Ye’ve already showered.” He pointed out.
“Maybe.”
He smiled. “I'll be quick.”
The Scotsman walked through the shared bedroom and into the bathroom. His body ached from working, his arm sore from where a metal panel had shaken loose from all the ruckus today and sliced into his arm.
He thumbed the controls to the sonic shower, watching as the particle spewed out of the shower head mounted to the wall. Next came undressing.
The red uniform shirt came first, then the black undershirt. Off went the pants then the boxers. With a heavy sigh he stepped into the shower, immediately relaxing when the warmth hit his skin.
Finally…
He'd promised not to take long, so he set out on washing himself off.
Running his fingers through his hair, Scotty groaned softly at the feel of his scalp being thoroughly messaged. He'd do the shampoo and conditioner tomorrow morning when he woke up.
Reaching out for the bottle of face wash, he popped the cap and squirted some of the solution into his other hand. He pressed the cap closed against his hip before plopping it back onto the shelf.
The face wash smelt like oranges, little gritty bits in the slimy concoction.
The engineer closed his eyes, rubbed his hands together, and started to lather his face. Mindlessly he could feel some stubble starting to pop in. He'd shave another time.
He rinsed his hands then his face, exhaling as he let out the breath he'd been holding.
As he started getting body wash on his loofa he felt his arm strain slightly. He grumbled and switched the loofa to his other hand and continued his business, only momentarily taking in the sight of his missing finger.
He couldn't help but frown slightly as he started to scrub the soap on his body. He was really banged up, wasn't he?
Scotty looked down at himself as his arm worked like it had a mind of its own. He took in the sight of his furred chest, slightly rounded stomach, solid thighs and much more. He ran his free hand down his chest, feeling the hair scratch underneath his rough palm. He then felt around his stomach- he wasn't getting that fat, was he?
His brows knit together as he tried to remember the last time he felt around himself. Memory wasn't serving well, he couldn't know for sure if he'd actually put on weight, but he certainly felt he did. His hand then grabbed at a thigh, feeling the hard yet fatty muscle there. His eyes drifted, a soft “tsk” leaving his lips once he noticed he was in need of a trimming around his pubic area.
“Damn it,” He scolded himself, realizing he'd been neglecting to do that. It's not that he was lazy- he was very much the opposite. “Tomorrow.” He mumbled, knowing McCoy would have him doing little to nothing tomorrow anyways, much too concerned about that arm and making sure the engineer didn't hurt himself anymore.
Scotty finished scrubbing, then rinsed himself off before turning off the shower and stepping out. He grabbed his towel and waddled into the bedroom, drying himself like second nature. He winced and stopped again when his arm gave a little jolt of discomfort.
Now more thoroughly annoyed, the engineer took it slower- rubbing himself down before climbing into a clean pair of clothes. Just to feel better, he put on the pair of boxers you'd bought for him during Valentine's day- the ol’ white briefs with hearts slapped all over it.
Then came his pajamas. The pants slipped on no issue, but he had to stand for a moment and button up his shirt. His arm eventually got tired, leaving the top three untouched.
Walking into the living area he saw you sitting down at the small dining table. Some meat, potatoes and steamed broccoli. Scotty was glad to see the replicators had been working enough to make something this good- they always seemed to act up.
“Thank ye, mo chridhe.” The Gaelic rolled off his tongue naturally, accent thick as he spoke the term before pressing a kiss to your cheek.
“You're welcome. I thought you'd appreciate dinner being ready after your shower.” Came your reply as you both sat down. Scotty gave a nod in agreement as he didn't waste any time before eating.
Though, you caught notice of him looking at his hand for a moment before looking down at his plate instead of at you. That was a clear sign he was typically upset.
You looked over towards his right hand, seeing nothing of note. Same slight hair on the back, rough tanned skin, missing middle finger. Same ol’ Montgomery Scott hand you loved!
Perhaps it was another situation of that invisible sickness that made everyone act crazy? You remember the stories of Sulu dancing around with a sword, the thought of Scotty going mad like that causing a string of worry to yank in your chest. “Everything alright?”
The Scotsman looked up, eyes that soft deep brown like always, yet they seemed preoccupied. “Aye, just tired.”
It was an obvious lie, yet you decided to not press any further. If he didn't feel like talking, there was nothing wrong with that. You knew if it was something between you and him, he would say something.
So you silently ate, watching him as best as you could without staring. You couldn't help but notice his unoccupied hand clutching his napkin, hand shaking slightly from where it stayed propped up against the table top.
You reached out without second thought, gently taking his hand in yours. He looked up at you. “Ye alright?”
A slight frown graced your features. “Are you alright?” Scotty didn't reply. “Your hand is shaking like a leaf! What is going on in that head of yours?”
The engineer looked troubled. “I'm alright, I promise. Just tired,” He squeezed your hand. “It's probably low blood sugar. McCoy is always saying I need tae keep a better eye on it.”
It was obvious you weren't convinced. “You'd better eat all your dinner, then. After that it's straight to bed.”
“What about brushing our teeth?” He asked with a small smile.
“Don't get smart with me, mister.” You scolded, not angry but very clearly concerned. Scotty knew this. His smile turned more sympathetic as he squeezed your hand again.
---------------------------
“Are you going to tell me what's wrong?”
Scotty opened his heavy eyes to gaze towards the other body snuggled up underneath his arm and latched to his side. He'd hoped you'd drop it by the time you two got in bed. He sighed, looking up at the ceiling before closing his eyes again. There was no escaping you now. “I was just… Thinking in the shower earlier. I noticed how fat and old I'm getting, beaten up too. Just don't understand how someone so perfect like ye will stay happy with a torn up rag like me.” He reached behind him to adjust the pillow before letting his arm drop down again. “Stupid teenage stuff.”
Hearing how readily the man dismissed his own self consciousness made your heart ache.
Quickly you moved, sitting up and hauling yourself into his lap. His eyes snapped open, surprised by the movement. “What are ye do-” He was cut off when you cupped his face, feeling the warmth of his plush cheeks underneath your palms.
“Do you hear yourself?” You asked, scowling. “I can't believe you're saying these things! Don't you know I don't care about how old and fat you are? I don't care about all the scars or your missing finger! I will never stop loving you because of those things!” Scotty’s surprised expression steadily shifted into one of disbelief, then into weak acceptance. There was no fighting you.
“You may think it's a bad thing, but I love your wrinkles!” The Scotsman laughed a little at your statement, but you weren't deterred. “I'm serious! I love your crows feet,” A hand came up to gently run your thumb over the creases by the edges of his eyes. “I love your smile lines,” Your other hand traced near his mouth, feeling the slow creep of a smile there. “And I love your forehead wrinkles when you concentrate. I wanna kiss em all.”
Just to prove your point, you pressed several kisses to his forehead, only stopping when Scotty couldn't stop his soft laughter- almost like a giggle. “Alright, alright… I get it.”
Despite this, you continued. Grabbing his right hand with both of yours, you held it lovingly as you pressed a kiss to the back of his hand. “I love your hands too. Warm, rough from work, and perfect.” Your fingers dipped through the gap between his pointer and index finger, hearing the engineer take in a sharp inhale. “I love your missing finger as well.” You leaned down to kiss the nub of what was left of his middle finger.
Done with that, you took in the sight of how properly flustered Scotty was. “Need I continue?”
He shook his head. “No, no! I, uh… I understand how… Silly it was of me to think that way.” He muttered, rather embarrassed yet happy. “Thank ye, love.”
“You tell me whenever you feel bad about yourself like that again, ya hear?”
“Aye, capt’n.”
“Good!” With a smile on your face and the feeling of triumph you leaned down to press a kiss to your boyfriend's lips. He sighed, melting into it before you pulled away. “Now it's cuddle time.” You promptly laid back down and snuggled against him again.
“C’mere, ye.” With a lighter heart and feeling appreciated, Scotty shimmied a bit to lay on his side before pulling you in against his chest. He pressed a kiss to your head, humming as your legs soon entangled and bodies fit together like puzzle pieces.
Your hands found his chest, happy to feel the warmth and the steady beat of his heart there. “I love you.” Came a soft whisper.
“I love ye too, mo leannan.”