Disclaimer: All characters below belong to Dianna Wynne Jones (minus those who are obviously not).
AN: Important note at bottom.
Unhappy Happenstance
Chapter 4: Bandages and Bathrooms
Sophie woke up with an extremely stiff neck. Groaning, she sat up groggily, painfully stretching her neck to the side. Usually her bed was quite comfortable, so she must have pushed the pillow off again.
She blinked her eyes open, and quickly discovered that she was not in her bed at home, not at all. The bachelor-esque surroundings immediately reminded her of her rather serious situation, and she slumped back down with a groan. Her mouth felt like it was filled with nasty tasting cotton, and her legs felt like two logs after having been encased in denim for far too long. She missed her comfortable grey joggers.
Shrugging out of her jacket while lying down was not exactly the easiest thing to do, but Sophie managed. She let it fall to the floor, and then curled up on her side, staring at the coffee table which she had spent half an hour on last night, scrubbing out the cup stains.
The front door opened and closed with a slam, making Sophie jump up and out of the sofa. Very loud swearing followed the loud noise, reassuring Sophie (from her crouched position) that it was only Howl. She looked about for a clock, but could not find one. The windows were curtained.
Sophie sighed, and stood up.
The loud swearing had turned into irritated mutterings that faded off into the kitchen's general area. Combing her hair with her fingers, she yawned, and walked into the kitchen, belatedly realizing that her fingers were now full of hair dye goop. She made a face.
The shiny refrigerator door greeted her, until it was slammed shut, and a Howl stalked out with an unopened beer.
"G'morning," she murmured, and sat herself down on one of the stools, wiping her hands on her pants.
"You." Howl pointed at her, rather angrily she gathered.
"Yes, hello."
Sophie watched him search about for the bottle opener, which she had put away in the kitchen utensil drawer she'd sorted out last night. He was searching in the oddest places, like under the sink, and in an empty cookie jar. Why he owned a cookie jar, Sophie could not fathom. There were no cookies.
"What have you done to my kitchen. I can't bloody find anything." He gave up searching, and instead pointed his beer at her.
"You mean you could find things, things that are clean, in that mess you introduced me to? I've clearly misjudged your skills."
Sophie suddenly wondered if they had any fruit, though she didn't recall seeing any anywhere. Which was kind of depressing, because fruit was a lovely cheer-up breakfast.
Howl took in a deep, deep breath, and let it out through his nose with a whoosh.
Before he could speak, Sophie stood up and made her way to the drawer next to him.
"God, don't fall apart. Look, this is the drawer with spatulas and stuff." She pulled out the can opener/bottle opener. "And look, bottle opener! And it doesn't have mold on it anymore, yay."
He snatched it out of her hand, whipped off the bottle cap, and started to chug down his beverage.
Sophie stared at him nonplussed.
"What's got you all hot and bothered?" she asked, settling once more on the kitchen stool. Actually, she thought again to herself, there really isn't any good food in this house, much less fruit.
"There isn't any good food in this house. Can I leave?" She propped her chin up on her hand, blinking her eyes sleepily.
Howl wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and chucked the bottle into the sink. Sophie squint-glared at the mess he made.
He tapped a finger against his lower lip, looking as if he wanted to strangle something.
"Look," he started, his voice clipped. "Obviously you are not understanding the position you are in. You cannot leave. If you leave, everyone you love will die. Alright? Now stay quiet and don't clean anything else."
He rubbed his forehead briskly.
Sophie's eyes narrowed, even as her stomach dropped in fear. "What do you mean, everyone I love will die? You aren't making sense."
His hand dropped, settling on the smooth granite counter.
"It's like you have the memory capacity of a goldfish. They know who you are. They know who your family is."
Sophie stared at him. "If I leave, and they capture me...so what? I don't know where we are. I know nothing about you. Honestly, if I'm annoying you this much, then just let me go."
"Sophie." Howl placed his other hand on the counter and leaned forward, his black button up shirt straining across his shoulders. "If they take you, it won't matter what you do or do not know. They will use your family against you. They will torture you, and then they will kill you."
"But...why? I'm hardly your right hand man."
"I'm..." he trailed off. "Look, it's just how it is," he spat. And with that, he strode angrily towards the basement door, yanked it open, and clattered down the steps.
She wiped angry tears from her eyelashes, and turned around to yank open the fridge.
Beer. And meat. With a tired sigh, she pulled out the package of deli slices and began to eat a piece morosely.
Sophie wandered up the stairs.
After the spat with Howl, she couldn't sit still. It irritated her to no end that she could never really get a good word in. It irritated her that Howl was being so pigheaded. It irritated her that Howl was most likely right.
She wanted to know what made even knowing Howl so dangerous. So he was involved with mafia. Did that mean he had to order in all his food in order to avoid a hit on his local grocer? How did he shop? The internet?
Actually, Sophie mused, that would make a lot of sense.
The landing revealed three doors, and a closet with weird, long shutters closing it. The walls were painted a light green, instead of the cream that was downstairs. The wainscoting and doorjambs were a dark wood.
She opened the closet, wincing as the hinges squeaked. In it were small piles of neatly folded sheets, towels, and various toiletries.
"Hm," Sophie hummed, looking at a fluffy towel speculatively. She closed the shutters.
Behind her was a door. She turned around and opened it. Inside was a bedroom, sparsely furnished. A bed was tucked in the corner, covered by white sheets and a white comforter. There was no pillow. Besides the bed, the only other pieces of furniture were a bedside table and a rickety chair. Calcifer's room? Michael's?
She closed the door.
In the room next to it was a rather large bathroom. It was a giant rectangle, with the sink and toilet directly to her left and the shower taking up the back wall. A claw-footed tub was angled in the corner to her right. Unlike the room she had just peeked into, it was a mess. The long, double sink counter was covered with shaving materials, boxes of hair dye, cosmetics, shampoos, and other weird containers Sophie couldn't identify. A toothbrush or two stuck out of the pile. There was a mirror over the sink covered in grime, and shelves on the wall packed with colorful, unreadable items. There was almost too much room used for the shower, but it had no enclosure. It was just a shower head in the wall with a handle to turn on the water and adjust the temperature, a drain in the tiled floor. A metallic hose dangled inside the empty porcelain tub.
Despite it's lack of privacy, the shower looked amazing to Sophie at that moment. She looked down at the door she was peeking around. There was the doorknob. And just the doorknob. No lock. That could be problematic.
She blew a strand of melty-platinum hair off of her face, and closed the door.
The next door beckoned.
Sophie reached out a hand, and grasped the door knob. Curving her fingers to get a good hold, she turned it.
But it wouldn't budge.
She took off her hand, and discovered a lock hole that was just under the doorknob. A lock hole that she had not noticed beforehand.
"Why does this room have a lock, but not the bathroom?"
It must be Howl's room, Sophie thought. Her curiosity peaked. What was in Howl's room that needed to be locked up?
She tugged at the doorknob again, just in case she hadn't pulled hard enough last time.
Nothing.
She harrumphed. Foiled.
"Nosy, aren't we?" A voice rumbled behind her.
Sophie spun around. Howl was standing at the top of the stairs, staring at her.
Unconsciously placing a bandaged hand over her racing heart, she placed the other on her hip, akimbo.
"You can't blame me, especially since you won't let me clean anymore."
"God forbid," he replied drolly. "Come here."
Sophie blinked. "What?"
Howl sighed and shook his head, taking her by the arm and pulling her into the bathroom.
"Sit," he ordered, and pushed her down on the toilet seat. Sophie cringed, feeling the grimy surface of the plastic.
He kneeled in front of her, leaning in close. Although she was seated and he was on the floor, he still bent down over her. Strands of his hair, once again black, fell forward across his face.
"Here," he murmured, and took her injured hand, the one she'd placed over her heart moments ago. "These need to be checked." He began to unwind the bandages slowly, carefully. Sophie hissed when it began to pull at her cut skin.
Howl tossed the soiled bandage on the floor next to him, and lifted up her hand to inspect her cut knuckles and fingers. The cuts looked red and angry, stark against her pale skin. He tsk'd under his breath, and reached towards the counter, blindly fishing about for something.
Sophie looked over, hand still being held up by Howl, and saw him grab onto a small, round metal jar. He paused, glancing at the jar and then at Sophie. She suddenly felt extremely aware of her grimy hair.
"Perhaps you should take a shower first. Wash out any dirt that could be in any of your...wounds."
He stood up fluidly, and strode out of the room, coming back before the door closed with a towel in hand. Going over to the shelves, he plucked out two bottles and a bar of soap, placing them by the shower area. He draped the towel on the side of the tub.
"Michael has left, and Calcifer is busy downstairs. No one will disturb you." He walked to the door, pausing before he went out. Sophie noticed he was wearing old, worn jeans, the kind that made her stare at his arse. "Leave the door open when you're done."
The door closed behind him with a soft click.
She stared at the door, her lips slowing pursing together into a pout. He was so unfair. She couldn't follow his stupid, emotionally bipolar brain at all.
With a long sigh, she stood up from the toilet and slowly began to peel off her clothes. She winced as the shirt brushed nicks on her face, and as she stretched bruised muscles. Sockless, she padded over to the shower area clad in only jeans and her bra, her arms tucked around her torso.
After a moment of contemplative staring, Sophie reached out to touch the handle. As it turned under her fingers, a wide spray of water immediately sprang out of the shower head, dousing her with cold water.
She jumped back with a high pitched squeal, toes gripping the tiled floor. Shivering, she stepped back towards the handle, angling herself to avoid the water, and pushed the handle towards hot. Soon enough, steam began to rise and she slipped off the rest of her clothes.
The sigh that left her lips as she stepped into the warm spray was a happy one. Water plastered down her hair immediately, and she pulled through it vigorously. It was still strange, not feeling her hair tickling her lower back anymore. Her cuts stung angrily under the warmth, but the water felt so good that the stinging faded into the back of her mind.
All of a sudden, a wave of loneliness hit her. She stared, eyes wide, watching water drip down in front of her. All she wanted to do was go home. Slowly, she curled down to her knees, accepting the hiccups of tears that bubbled out of her throat.
Sophie didn't know how long she sat there, but soon the water began to cool and she frantically stood to use the shampoo and soap as the water became freezing.
She hadn't completely washed out all the soap when she turned off the water. Goosebumps speckled her flesh as she shivered her way to her towel. As she wrapped the fluffy, white cloth about her, she realized that she only had the dirty clothes she'd taken off to change back into. The shirt she could handle, but the jeans had hair goop on them, and it and the bra were still wet. She didn't even think about the used underwear.
The wet hair plastered to the back of her neck was getting cold fast. Tip toeing across the cool tiles, she went over to the door and opened it slowly, sticking her head out. The hallway was empty. Tightening her towel, she scampered over to the linen closet, quickly opening it to pull out a towel for her hair.
"All finished?"
Sophie squealed for the second time that day, immediately clutching the extra towel to her chest. Howl stood in the doorway of the locked room, clothes draped over his arm. He stepped into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind him with a click.
"I...yea. Y-yes.," Sophie stuttered, her face turning red.
Howl didn't seem to be looking at her, but he held out his arm with the clothes.
"Here," he murmured. "Go put these on, and then we can take a look at your hand."
She stepped over to him, clutching the clothing and pulling it against her. "Thanks," she croaked, before hurrying back into the bathroom.
Chest heaving, back pressed against the door, Sophie waited until she felt the burning sensation leave her cheeks before she unsteadily tottered towards the tub. Draping the clothes over the porcelain edge, she shook out the towel she'd taken and wrapped her hair in it.
The clothes stared up at her, looking clean and comforting. Biting her lower lip, she picked up the first piece. It was a big, blue, men's cardigan that buttoned up the middle. It was so soft.
It smelled like Howl.
Placing it back on the tub, she picked up the other piece. Underwear fell out of it (but no bra, she noticed sadly), nice star-spangled ones. Looking back at the clothing in her hands, she realized it was a rather thin, white summer dress. Not exactly weather appropriate.
She supposed, unlike his little hidey-hole apartment, his place here wasn't exactly flush with woman's clothing. She decided to be grateful that there was even underwear, and to not question why he had it at all.
She had to roll the sleeves of the cardigan up a couple times, but she finally felt clean and warm and clothed. Opening the bathroom door, she saw that Howl was standing across from the door, leaning against the wall.
He'd been looking down, but as she stepped into the hallway he lifted his chin, greeting her with wide eyes.
There was a silent moment, and Sophie fidgeted nervously.
"Uhm," she started. "Thanks for the clothes."
"Ah," he cleared his throat. "Of course. Shall we?" He gestured towards her, indicating to go back into the bathroom.
She nodded quickly, and turned on her heel, Howl at her heels. He shut the door behind them. Obediently, Sophie sat again on the toilet, covering it with a towel first this time.
Howl went to the cabinet under the sink, and she saw his hand disappear inside, sounds of rummaging coming out. She watched as he tucked little rolls of bandages in the crook of his elbow, along with a rather large, dented box of plaster band-aids. The little metal jar was added to the elbow as he closed the cabinet door.
"Alright," he huffed, bending his knees and balancing on the balls of his feet in front of her. "Let's see your hand, and then we'll get the one on your chest." He put the band-aids, bandages, and a roll of bandage tape on the floor.
"M-my chest?" She looked down, tucking her chin awkwardly. Indeed, there was a thin red line stretching across her collarbone and down.
Howl took up her hand, flicking open the lid of the jar with his other hand and placing it on his knee. He stuck a finger into what looked like clear gel, and began to smear it across her knuckles.
"Ah, ow!" Sophie exclaimed. A cooling sensation spread on her skin, but it was accompanied by an acute, stinging pain. Howl tsked, his hair shifting back and forth as he shook his head. His long fingers brushed lightly against her as she winced, spreading the salve evenly over her cuts.
Her hand jerked involuntarily against the pain, but Howl's firm grip on her wrist prevented her from moving more than a few centimeters. Her free hand gripped the towel covered edge of the toilet seat, and her jaw clenched tightly. The gashes on her hand looked bright and irritated.
"There," he rumbled. Howl placed the jar on the floor next to the band-aids, and picked up the bandage roll. He let go of her hand and began to unwind the white cloth.
"Hold up your hand," he ordered. Sophie held it out, the tips of her fingers shaking slightly.
The cool pads of his fingers made her shiver as he gently started wrapping up her hand, starting at the wrist and working his way up and then back down.
"Uhm," said Sophie. She looked at the fringe sweeping across his face, and the spread of his lips where they lay directly in front of her. "Is your arm okay?"
At that, Howl glanced up. Sophie was stunned momentarily by his glassy green eyes, rimmed by a circle of black, framed by thick lashes.
"Mm," he hummed, before leaning forward to cut the bandage with his teeth. Sophie sucked in a breath as he leaned in, his lips so close to the heartbeat pumping erratically behind the skin of her wrist. The bandage roll dropped to the floor.
Leaning back, his lips twisted into a small smile. He pulled the collar of his shirt back, revealing to Sophie a region of white cloth. "Calcifer fixed me up. It'll be fine."
Almost unconsciously, Sophie reached out with her newly bandaged hand to touch it. She didn't notice the way Howl's eyes widened when she brushed one finger down his shoulder.
"He did a better job than I did." She let out a small laugh. "Good."
"Let's do your neck," he said roughly.
Sophie's smile faltered, and she lowered her hand. "Yes, of course."
Howl picked up the jar from off the floor, and Sophie braced herself for the pain. His fingers felt even more lighter than before against her skin, but the pain was still awful. She hissed in a large intake of breath, her head lolling backwards to expose more of her neck as she tried to ignore the pain.
His fingers paused against her throat, until they returned to sliding down the length of her cut, down to the middle of her breastbone. She shivered.
And then his fingers were gone, and Sophie pulled her head back up to see that Howl had gone back to the cabinet. She watched as he pulled out a thicker cloth before striding the two steps back to her. Folding the cloth, he pressed it against her cut.
"Hold it," he ordered softly.
Her hands came up and she pressed her fingers against the cloth. The cuffs of the rolled up sleeves slid down her forearms. The bandage was soft, and it smelled like it was freshly laundered. One thing he actually cleans, she mused.
He reached down and picked up the roll of tape, pulling out a length with a loud ripping sound. Leaning forward, he laid a piece across the cloth, sticking it to her skin. His hair brushed the bottom of her chin as he leaned forward to bite the piece of tape. She felt her throat convulse, and she lolled her head back again. The softness of his hair on her skin didn't tickle, but it felt so nice. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and to the pit of her stomach. His breath was warm against her collarbone.
She felt his hands bat at her hands holding up the cloth, and she lowered them to her lap. His fingers pressed another length of tape against her. Her hands clenched together, and she fought to keep her breathing regular.
"Sophie," he breathed. She shivered almost violently, and gulped.
"Mhm?" she managed.
"I'll get you back home." His hands fell to her lap, covering her knees, his head bowed down. The bandage tape roll settled in the dip between her thighs. "I promise. Just..." He looked up, his green eyes having darkened to black. "Just trust me."
Sophie stared into his eyes for a moment, before lowering her gaze to his hands. She curled her own back against her stomach, away from his.
A hand cupped her jaw, its fingers threading into her drying hair. It pulled her chin up, forcing her to look in his eyes again. "I need you to trust me," he said.
Her eyes darted down to his lips, and back to his eyes. She saw him follow their movement.
"I..." she began. "I trust you."
"Good," he stated plainly and he pressed his lips against her forehead. "Let's put a band-aid on this big cut here."
AN: A bit filler-y. But I wanted to get in some sweet, sweet tension.
So, I said this in my other fic, vote in my profile poll if you want my tumblr for: updates/teasers/stalking privileges.
I haven't heard from many people, so if I don't get more interest, I'm just gonna say eff it. No tumblr.
Please review! Let me know what you think will happen next! Oh ho ho hoo.