"How long till you get that thing off, again?" MacArthur asked, propping a pillow under Sanders's crippled right arm.
"Two weeks at the least according to the doctor," Sanders replied with a sigh. Though her arm didn't hurt anymore, she couldn't wait to get rid of the arm cast; she missed the simple pleasures like being able to itch her forearm and resting on the apartment's couch without fear of not finding an amply-supportive pillow. Good thing MacArthur was always at her beck and call, a mixture of guilt and responsibility motivating her willingness to help.
"Man, that's rough. You've had that on for 5 weeks!"
"Yeah, I'm aware. It's my arm that got broken remember? Plus that act I pulled while getting the ticket from the drain didn't help the healing process much." Sanders felt the couch cushion dip down as MacArthur sat beside her.
"Hey, you know I'm sorry, right?" MacArthur scratched the back of her neck. "I mean you broke my arm, and we didn't even end up winning! Sure, we got to the finale, but that doesn't—"
"The reason I broke my arm was because of your competitiveness. Winning or no winning, you could have lowered me down more gently."
Tears of guilt welled up in MacArthur's eyes. "I-I know…"
Sanders sighed, pitying her usually strong partner's vulnerable state. With her healthy hand, she pulled MacArthur's head against her shoulder, letting her shirt become soaked with translucent tears.
"I know you're sorry, but sometimes I wish you'd do something for me, and not because you think you have to." Sanders shifted her eyes to the floor. "I want you to want to do something that makes me happy just because…"
MacArthur turned her head to wipe her eyes and look up at Sanders. "You…have a point about that. I guess seeing how independent and strong you've become in the last month, I've forgotten you're full of sentimental stuff underneath."
Sanders nodded. "You know me. I have a soft spot for romance."
"That's why I still don't get why you chose to stick around with me. I mean I know I'm a hot piece of woman, but I'm not exactly the romantic, fluffy type."
"True, but you have your moments. Besides, you inspired me to toughen up in the strength department. Soon, I'll have glutes stronger than yours."
"Ha! Keep dreaming, princess. This girl will always out-glute you."
"We'll see," Sanders replied, kissing MacArthur's forehead.
"Aw, shucks." MacArthur sat up again, and clasps Sanders's left hand between her palms. "Just you wait. I'm gonna do something so special for you, I'll have to change my name again. This time, you'll be calling me Queen Casanova!"
"Whatever you say…Valentina," Sanders teased with a smirk.
"Don't you start with me, princess," MacArthur teased back before stealing a long kiss from the temporarily crippled cadet.
