RPF Gillovny Drabble (submission by @allyinthekeyofx)
“It’s not funny”
He tries and fails to prevent a smirk from lightening his face though, at the sight of her before him, bent almost double, palms resting atop her bare legs as her shoulders shake and tears run fown her face in response to her breathless, hitching giggles, because truthfully, he can’t remember the last time he saw her laugh like this; to let herself go so completely and even if it’s solely at his expense, he will take it.
The last few months have been hard on her both physically and emotionally with too much work and not enough play, the toll taken on her giving rise to a nagging concern that has on occasion been pronounced enough for him spend restless nights pondering the miles that seperate them.
It was for this reason he had insisted on flying over to accompany her back to New York with him. Her injury such that, despite her stubborn independence and assertion that she would be fine, he needed to be there to ensure she made the trip safely.
He smiles at her as she finally recovers sufficiently from her laughing jag to reach across and curl her fingers around his wrist.
“I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at *you* but you have to admit that the irony is exquisite…”
He allows her to pull him down to sit beside her on the sofa and follows her finger with his eyes as she gingerly trails it along the dark fabric of the sling that now supports the recently – dislocated -but – popped – back – in joint in his left shoulder.
“I mean, you fly all this way to babysit me on the plane and wind up with a dislocated fucking shoulder that is probably going to give you hell for the entire journey back and even worse that you….that you…”
she starts to take hicuppy short breaths in an attempt to not start laughing again and trails off mid sentence.
“Trip over your fucking crutches within five minutes of crossing the threshold?” He supplies helpfully, fighting his own urge to start laughing right along with her. Because she is right – this whole situation is ridiculous in the extreme.
He gently manouvers her so she can rest her legs – oversized boot and all – across his lap and begins to rub circles over her bare skin.
“What the fuck are we going to tell people?”
He allows his fingers to travel along her exposed leg, revelling in the satin warmth of her and smiles.
“We’ll think of something. We usually do.”
End
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