"Ha ha." Clara tries to act offended, but it falls flat since her cheeks are currently stuffed with the rest of her sandwich. It turns out she was hungrier than she thought.
As soon as she's done and deems he's not going to eat anymore, she stacks the plates and moves to stand up. Only that...really hurts, so she hisses in a sharp intake of air and freezes in place. Maybe the dishes can wait until later. No matter how tidy she likes to keep things.
"How do you manage to deal with being shot all the time? I can hardly move."
He finds himself grinning at her scarfing down the rest of her sandwich, but then chases after her when she clears their plates.
"For starters, I don't try to do dishes after." His hand gently rubs at her farthest shoulder in sympathy while his head falls to the other as softly as he can manage. He finally lets her feel how devastating it is to see her hurt this way. "Let me take care of you, Clara. Please."
She knows she's being stubborn. That she's going to make things harder on herself in the end by pushing herself right now. It's all a defense mechanism, and he knows it. And he gets her to relent using his honest desire to just take care of her.
How can she deny him that? She's not going to hurt him further. That isn't what you do to someone you love.
"Okay," she breathes out the word, whisper soft. Her hand goes to touch at the side of his head, cradling him in close to her.
He blows out a long breath, just staying close like this for as long as he can stand. Frank expects to be knocked over by a memory of his former life, but when it doesn't come he isn't sure if he's relieved or upset. Rather than try to analyze, instead he takes Clara's hand and starts silently leading her towards the bathroom. His eyes are clear, if wet, as he glances back at her before pulling them both inside and shutting the door.
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As soon as she's done and deems he's not going to eat anymore, she stacks the plates and moves to stand up. Only that...really hurts, so she hisses in a sharp intake of air and freezes in place. Maybe the dishes can wait until later. No matter how tidy she likes to keep things.
"How do you manage to deal with being shot all the time? I can hardly move."
no subject
"For starters, I don't try to do dishes after." His hand gently rubs at her farthest shoulder in sympathy while his head falls to the other as softly as he can manage. He finally lets her feel how devastating it is to see her hurt this way. "Let me take care of you, Clara. Please."
no subject
How can she deny him that? She's not going to hurt him further. That isn't what you do to someone you love.
"Okay," she breathes out the word, whisper soft. Her hand goes to touch at the side of his head, cradling him in close to her.
no subject