Another Black Jack/Terezi fic. A strange pairing, but I like it, okay? This takes place after the chapter where a bunch of Sicilians beat Black Jack bloody for "touching their women" (like women are freaking property, but I digress). Rated T for some nudity, I guess.
Terezi fiddled with her lingerie, tugging the horrible itchy lace part back over her boobs. Dammit, when was he going to get home? He said he'd be back in two weeks, but it had been over a month. Not knowing when he'd walk through the door, she'd been forced to wear lingerie all day, every day.
Finally, beyond all hope, his car pulled in the driveway. Yes! She would soon have the doctor swooning over her feminine wiles. Hopefully. The nurse's outfit hadn't worked, and neither had plain nudity. It still took him over an hour to get it up. He kept saying it had to do with surgeries and reattaching and something about childhood body trauma, but she had a good feeling that if she worked hard enough, she could overcome it.
She planted her bare foot hallway up the door frame so her leg was practically horizontal. Extremely uncomfortable, but it probably looked cool. She wished she had some sunglasses to go along with the ensemble. Then she'd be poppin' fresh. Where had she first heard that term? She didn't think the doctor had said it. In fact, she was certain of it.
He got out of the car, briefcase in hand, and limped up the path. Weird. He didn't usually limp. Maybe he'd lost his leg and gotten a mechanical replacement. No, that was silly; he'd be able to save his own leg.
He didn't even seem to notice her until he was right up to the door, where he stood stock still and blinked at her. She blinked back.
"What happened to your face?"
He glared at her.
"The operation in Sicily was successful," he said, his words thick and slurred.
"What's wrong with your voice?"
He glared at her.
"The Sicilians apparently don't like outsiders touching their women," he said. "Like women are their property. I hate Italy."
Terezi noticed the bandage that wrapped around his head and around his chin for the first time. Bruises and cuts mottled his face, while his left eye was nearly swollen shut. Even his lips were swollen.
"So how do I look?"
He squinted at her.
"You're not sick."
"I know I'm not sick!" she practically yelled in his ear. "I'm sexy, not sick! I don't get sick!"
"You're lying," he said. "I'm going inside."
He tried to side step her, but she didn't let him, reaching up to grasp his shoulders and stop him. He grunted in pain, stumbling backwards. She grabbed his bag and pulled him inside, shutting the door behind them (ignoring rattling screechy noise it made).
"Take it off," she ordered.
"I don't think I can..." he wheezed, trying to get himself back on balance.
"I didn't want to have sex, you dork," she grumbled, "I just wanted you to tell me I'm sexy."
"Oh," he said.
"Take your coat off," she said.
He shuffled out of his coat slowly, the stiffness and pain he was feeling evident in the way he moved. She dropped the coat on the floor and practically ripped his vest and shirt open, shucking them on the floor none-too-gently. She silenced his groan with a kiss, regretting it when she felt his fevered swollen lips.
"I'm not doing that again," she informed him. "That was weird."
He actually chuckled at that, an awful scratchy sound.
She pressed her hands to his bare chest, feeling that it was bandaged heavily, blood seeping through in places. In the few inches revealed, his skin was heavily bruised in alluring aromas of purple and yellow.
"What the hell even happened to you?" she barked, her worry making her loud and mad. "Who did this?"
"Sicilians," he replied. "In Sicily. I told you what happened. They didn't like me touching their damn women."
"What did they do it with?"
"Rocks, metal pipes. I remember the pipes mostly."
"Jegus," swore Terezi. "Your fleshy human body can't stand up to that crap."
"Thank you for noticing," panted Black Jack. "I need to sit down."
She guided him to his armchair, pushing him down in it eloquently. He let out an involuntary cry, and she patted him on the head.
"Ow," he said. "Can I get a smoke?"
"Smoking is gross," she informed him, hands on her barely clad hips. "The TV told me so."
He let out a whimper that sounded like a cross between a kicked puppy and a scratched record. Terezi found it incredibly endearing. "Please, a smoke."
"Wow, you were so polite! Cigarette or pipe?"
"P-Pipe," he mumbled.
She retrieved his pipe and tobacco from his crumpled coat pocket. His hands shook as he filled the pipe, inhaling deeply.
Terezi took a step back as she watched him. He was just so cool.
"Terezi..."
"Yes?" said Terezi excitedly. "What is it?"
"Put some clothes on."
She stomped her foot. "Black Jack, you dick monkey!" she shouted before rushing out of the room in a huff.
He stared after her. It was a minute before he sighed heavily and grappled his way out of the comfortable chair, feeling his bruised legs protest as he limped after her. When he opened the door to his bedroom, she was sitting naked on the floor.
"I said more clothes," he said blankly. "Not less."
"I can wear whatever I want," she replied. "Or not wear."
"But...it's not seemly."
"If I knew what that word meant, I would tell you that that word is full of shit."
"Oh," said Black Jack.
"Do you like this body?" asked Terezi angrily. "Do you like these?" she said, holding her breasts up in her hands.
"Um," said Black Jack. "I do."
She grinned. "You do?"
"I...thought it was obvious."
"It was not."
"But...when we...you know...I...touch them a lot."
"And that means you like them?"
"Yes."
"So...you like me?"
"Isn't that...inferred?"
"No?"
"Oh."
"C'mon, let's get you to bed," she said, taking his arm and getting onto her tippy toes to kiss him in the lips. It wasn't pleasant the second time either, and he mumbled an apology as she guided him into the bed. She snuggled up next to him as he fell asleep and smiled.
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