"Are you wearing my trousers?"
John had come home to Sebastia sitting on his couch, a sight he was somewhat used to. What he wasn't used to, though was the fact that she seemed to be wearing his khakis. He sat down next to her and pulled at the suspected material to confirm that they were indeed his. She muttered a distracted affirmative, fixed on the telly.
"Sebastia," he prodded, "why are you wearing my trousers.
"Mine caught on fire." She made the remark so nonchalantly that John has to pause to make sure he heard her right.
"You caught them on fire? How badly?" His fingers instinctually danced down her leg to begin to examine it, but she pushed his hand away. "Did you burn yourself?" Her jeans were always quite snug, so surely if she caught them on fire she had caught her legs on fire as well.
She avoided his eyes, staring down at her lap. "I'm fine, John."
He took her hand and leaned down to peer up at her. "Sebastia, let me see." The command was gentle, but it was a command nonetheless. She glanced at him, then reached down to gently work up the leg of one of the trousers. He winced as he saw the angry, red, blistering burns that wound around her leg. He looked back up to her, a bit confused. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I hate burns. I can handle bullet holes and cuts, but burns… I don't know. I hate burns."
"How bad are they? How high do they go?"
She trailed a finger across her the middle of her thigh. "They get fainter the higher they go, but they still burn."
He took her hand and stood. "Come on, let's get you in some water." She followed him to the loo, dropping his trousers and standing by as he filled the tub. Once it was full she sunk herself into the water, ignoring the fact that she was soaking her underwear and t-shirt. She closed her eyes and sighed, forehead wrinkling as she willed away the pain. John perched on the edge of the tub, inspecting the burns through the water.
"How the hell did you catch yourself on fire and let it get this bad?"
"I was tucked behind a bunch of machinery. The pilot light caught the edge of my pants. I had a shot to take, though, so I waited."
John frowned. He couldn't understand why she would let something like that happen. Although, maybe he could. Those jobs meant everything to her. He just wished she wouldn't put herself at risk like that. She could see that wish on his face, and she grimaced.
"John, don't coddle me."
He nodded with a sigh. "I know."
Once she had soaked, he gently covered her legs with a burn cream, a treatment she did not endure quietly.
"Damn, that hurts!"
John smiled. "I thought you didn't want me to coddle you?"
She shot him a pointed stare. "I don't," she replied with a huff. "It just hurts," she added softly.
He finished and wrapped her legs, carrying her to the couch. He sat and she laid her head on his lap. "Thanks."
He smiled, stroking her hair. "You're welcome."