[ It is a lot. It's been a lot. And they've hardly had a moment to breathe. Certainly not much time alone to just — cope with what had happened between them. Not with all the noise and the chaos and all the other things that needed to be taken care of — and maybe it says something about them, that it took Archie nearly being shot to death to slow things down enough, but at least they're here now, whatever path had to be taken to get there.
She lays her head on the bed, resting it lightly against his leg underneath the sheets as she holds onto his hand, watching that expression on his face with something weary but soft in her own.
At length, because it seems important to say, after everything: ]
I love you too, [he says, with the same warmth in his voice any other time he'd said it to her. unchanged from before, even with all their little baby freakout inbetween. that fact never changed, and he's able to say it without hesitation.] Warts an' all.
[haha. get it. because she can't grow warts.]
Fuck, I don't know where anythin's gonna go after this.
You don't have to tease me. I know I look like shit.
[ She's definitely looked better, anyway — though it's funny, how just exchanging the words with him seems to have eased the naturally harsh lines of her face a little, softening her in a subtle way. ]
You don't need to do anything except lay there and get better. Worry about the other shit later.
[ She rolls her eyes, but just a little, and mostly for show — as she often does. ]
Is that what you wonder when you think about me? What kind of weird shit my body can or can't do? [ To be fair though, if warts and things were something she needed to be concerned about, she probably wouldn't be such an unrepentantly freewheeling slut. Guess there had to be some kind of silver lining to her curse. Not that it's mattered lately — not when she hasn't been with anyone since him. ] Might've liked you better when you were unconscious.
That would be police brutality. [ Deadpan: ] Knock your own damn self out.
[ Though that little grimace didn't pass her notice. She finally lets go of his hand, sitting up again so that she isn't leaning any weight on him. Quieter, and a bit more seriously: ]
Do I look like I can? [he says, making a noise much like a hurmpf.] Yeah. It's gonna for a while. Not all of us are blessed with incredible healin'. Figures I got a power that don't work on myself when it counts, though. Only managed to heal myself once.
[he holds a hand up, that pastel rainbow aura he feels like he stole from a pokémon that knows the move heal pulse floating around it. usually it leaks towards people that need it in the vicinity, but it doesn't affect archie and andy is immortal. so it just floats there, aesthetic and fucking useless.]
[ She frowns a little at that phrasing — blessed with healing, he says, and she might be inclined to argue under different circumstances — but it only lasts a moment or two before the tiredness settles back in. It's not the kind of day where she has the energy to be ornery properly. ]
Maybe you shouldn't go around getting shot then.
[ A little berating, but not with any real bite. She watches that floating light as it hovers there, lovely and utterly unhelpful. ]
[ She opens her mouth to say something, probably about how getting stabbed by a sword is actually a little worse than being shot by a bullet — but then he's reaching out and fucking... Booping her nose. Like she's a little girl or something. And she's so surprised by it that the words die in her mouth when she recoils, her nose wrinkling up as she leans back. ]
Did you just...?
[ Andy squints at him, lifting her hand to lightly touch her own nose, as if the experience was so surreal she isn't one hundred percent sure it just happened. ]
[ She doesn't relent — not for another good two, three seconds. Her eyes are still narrowed. She's leaning into it a bit, scrutinizing him as she does like she's trying to discern if he's learned his lesson about daring to boop her.
Then, abruptly, she releases him
and leans the rest of the way
to press an amicable little kiss to the tip of his smushed nose.
Mildly: ]
If you ever scare me like this again, I'm going to fucking kill you.
[ Her hand is tender, in its way, as she lingers, smoothing hair back from his brow — a contrast to the unrepentant dryness of her voice, the slight habitual bite to her words: ]
Not likely. You know how many ways I've mastered of killing a man slowly?
[he grumbles under it, like he's so put upon, but reaches up with both hands to take hers. no reason other than to just hold it-- press the pads of his thumbs to her palm.]
That's motivation to get out of here, you know. Get out and put more trainin' dummies together so you can really show off with Pussydestroyer for me. Forget beer cans.
[something he'd wanted to do with her for a while, but-- shit keeps coming up.]
She feels a funny, unexpected little spark of warmth. Maybe he's fucking teasing her, but it means more than she might want it to, the idea that she might be, in any small part, a reason for him to get better. ]
Yeah? Is that what you think I've been honing my skill for, all these centuries? [ With a mild, almost gentle wryness: ] So I can amuse you when you finally get your crippled ass up out of bed?
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She lays her head on the bed, resting it lightly against his leg underneath the sheets as she holds onto his hand, watching that expression on his face with something weary but soft in her own.
At length, because it seems important to say, after everything: ]
I still love you.
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[haha. get it. because she can't grow warts.]
Fuck, I don't know where anythin's gonna go after this.
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You don't have to tease me. I know I look like shit.
[ She's definitely looked better, anyway — though it's funny, how just exchanging the words with him seems to have eased the naturally harsh lines of her face a little, softening her in a subtle way. ]
You don't need to do anything except lay there and get better. Worry about the other shit later.
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[a strange tangent, but... look, he is on So Many painkillers.]
If I could control when I overfocus on shit, I wouldn't be in this bed.
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Is that what you wonder when you think about me? What kind of weird shit my body can or can't do? [ To be fair though, if warts and things were something she needed to be concerned about, she probably wouldn't be such an unrepentantly freewheeling slut. Guess there had to be some kind of silver lining to her curse. Not that it's mattered lately — not when she hasn't been with anyone since him. ] Might've liked you better when you were unconscious.
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[her comment makes him snort a short laugh, though. it makes him grimace after, but not for long.]
Yeah? Knock me out then, coward.
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[ Though that little grimace didn't pass her notice. She finally lets go of his hand, sitting up again so that she isn't leaning any weight on him. Quieter, and a bit more seriously: ]
Does it still hurt bad?
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[he holds a hand up, that pastel rainbow aura he feels like he stole from a pokémon that knows the move heal pulse floating around it. usually it leaks towards people that need it in the vicinity, but it doesn't affect archie and andy is immortal. so it just floats there, aesthetic and fucking useless.]
Felt like shit then, too. Ugh.
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Maybe you shouldn't go around getting shot then.
[ A little berating, but not with any real bite. She watches that floating light as it hovers there, lovely and utterly unhelpful. ]
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It was a sword, that time. From a fake Roman soldier.
[he reaches out and... pokes her nose with his finger, just as the light fades out.] 2017 was a wild time.
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Did you just...?
[ Andy squints at him, lifting her hand to lightly touch her own nose, as if the experience was so surreal she isn't one hundred percent sure it just happened. ]
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What?
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Then reaches out and smushes his nose in return, pressing it like a button with her palm. ]
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[his voice is a little distorted from his snoot being squished. he does not move back. he is just silently astounded.]
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Then pushes a little harder, flattening his nose even more.
She's not sorry. She's a monster. ]
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Then, abruptly, she releases him
and leans the rest of the way
to press an amicable little kiss to the tip of his smushed nose.
Mildly: ]
If you ever scare me like this again, I'm going to fucking kill you.
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It would probably be preferable to the permanent damage this shit is gonna do to me...
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Not likely. You know how many ways I've mastered of killing a man slowly?
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Let me guess. Ten with each finger?
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Something like that.
[ With her other hand, she flicks him lightly between the eyebrows, as if to demonstrate her deadly skill. ]
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[something he'd wanted to do with her for a while, but-- shit keeps coming up.]
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She feels a funny, unexpected little spark of warmth. Maybe he's fucking teasing her, but it means more than she might want it to, the idea that she might be, in any small part, a reason for him to get better. ]
Yeah? Is that what you think I've been honing my skill for, all these centuries? [ With a mild, almost gentle wryness: ] So I can amuse you when you finally get your crippled ass up out of bed?
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...Tryin' to think of any other reason and I'm comin' up blank, here. Might be the drugs.
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