Title: Burn, Baby, Burn
Summary: Beth uses Mick to treat her latest medical malady
The sweat trickled uncomfortably down the small of her back, soaking her shirt and making the denim of her jeans cling and itch. The humidity swaddled her as she rolled her sleeves back and tucked sweat-drenched locks behind her ears. Beth pressed sleeves and tissue and even stray scraps of paper into service to wipe away the flow of sweat. The sun pounded against her and Beth had a flash of how Mick must feel.
After her fruitless afternoon door-to-door search for witnesses to the latest homicide case dumped on her lap by Talbot, she was out of water and patience. And desperate to be out of the sun.
Too many blocks away, at her car, she caught sight of her reflection in the window. She flicked her sunglasses up. Raccoon eyes. Pale skin surrounded by red.
"Shit," her hand hovered over her cheeks, the warmth pulsing against her. She hopped into the Prius, threw her notebook and recorder on the seat and tilted the rear view mirror to inspect the worst of the damage -- her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, her chest, and, worst, the part of her hair, assuring she wouldn't be able to brush her hair for a week.
She pulled away from the baking streets and toward Mick's, home. After a quick stop to empty the corner store of aspirin, aloe vera cream and hydrocortisone cream, she finally reached the apartment and escaped the now physically-painful rays for the climate-controlled glory of the penthouse. She kicked back a handful of aspirin as the elevator rose to the top.
The apartment was its standard crisp 65 degrees and she was never more thankful for Mick's coldblooded nature. She cracked open the green gel and slathered it, Christmas colors across her shoulders, her face, the touch alternately stinging and soothing.
Her shirt, darkened with sweat and stinking, dropped to the floor. Then her bra, very carefully, the lacy straps scraping the burns.
At the sink, she washed away the worst of the stink and stain with splashes of cold water, unable to touch her skin with the washrag. She pressed against the steel of the refrigerator.
Another round of aloe and she bit back a whimper. A bath, a freezing cold bath. Freezing. Freezer.
She stopped. Mick. Beth raced toward the gray door. The chill, colder than the rest of the apartment, kissed her crispy skin.
Better already.
Mick pants and shirt were hung by the door and she could see his bare, unmoving chest through the frost-covered panel. Promises of more below.
Beth glanced at the dial, twirled it to half strength. She rapped at the glass, then broke the seal without waiting, shoulders aching with the movement. He started.
"Beth?" Mick's eyes widened at the sight of her.
"I got a little sun," Beth peered inside the freezer.
"Yeah, I can see that," Mick sat up. "I forgot... you're so ... red."
He moved a hand to investigate her skin. Beth gasped and he flinched away.
"No!" she grabbed his cold hand, then the other, pressed them against her cheeks, then her chest.
"Move over," Beth mounted the step as Mick turned on his side.
"Beth, this isn't really--"
"Shut up and give me your arm," Beth draped him across her forehead, letting the cold, cold metal and flesh leach the fever from her skin. She sighed, eyes closed. She was in the cradle between sleep and awake when Mick's voice came to her.
"I didn't know frozen lobster was on the menu tonight."