Chapter 9 – Healing Words
If he was completely honest with himself, Dom would be fed up with waiting areas. What a way to spend your time, wracked with worry, hyperventilating, suspense and tension the main occupants of the usually distraction-deprived rooms. No one that actually waited for someone or something important flipped through the tabloids available, and if they did, it wouldn't have any affect. So when he found himself staring—again—at the empty, white walls of the lounge area he couldn't help but wonder if the world had something against him. Not in a self-pitying way, never in a self-pitying way. He was beginning to sincerely believe that someone, somewhere, was trying to get payback. For what, he didn't know. But he was tempted to scream up at the ceiling:
"YOU WIN! I GIVE UP! YOU GOT ME! CAN I HAVE MY LIFE BACK?"
The cushions were the most uncomfortable he'd ever sat on, and a soap opera was playing on the fuzzy screen. The halls stank of sanitization and vitamin-enriched food, making his stomach squirm with nausea. Dom hated hospitals. So, rather than deal with it, he clasped his hands between his knees and let his head droop, clenching his eyelids shut.
Mia's nails tapping on the receptionist's desk offered some diversion, and he tried to count how many times the irregular beat sounded. He made it to five hundred and eighty-two before it cut off and she hurried to his side.
"He's in recovery, room 624."
Mia's eyes shone with desperation and she held her trembling hand out to Dom. He blinked a couple times before taking it and heaving himself to his feet. People passed in groups, some crying, some laughing, and Dom wondered idly how their patients were doing. How long they would have to see them, what was wrong. This train of thought kept him busy until Mia tugged him into a curtained room. A game was on, the announcers bantering like brothers as a bad play was executed. However, the men's voices couldn't drown out the steady beeping of the machines connected to Brian.
Yanking back the curtains, Mia hurtled to Brian's side. A swiveling desk hovered over his lap, a lunch tray laying half-eaten, still steaming under his chin. His eyes instantly brightened at the sight of his guests.
"Mia!" He only had eyes for her, and that was okay with Dom. He settled into a more comfortable recliner, sinking into the thick cushion and leaning his head back.
The smell of hospital food fogged his brain and he tried to breathe only with his mouth, closing his eyes and stretching out luxuriously in the chair.
"How are you?" she gushed, her hands drifting from his head to his feet, adjusting blankets here, repositioning tubes there, brushing bangs from his eyes.
"I am healing, and the burning pain is much less noticeable." Brian flashed her an encouraging, endearing grin, reaching up to grasp her chin in his palm. As he pulled her in for a kiss, the blankets fell from his chest, revealing the thick, white bandages wrapped around his abdomen. They were clean of blood, but they were new, too. "They stitched me up pretty well." Brian flicked his hand casually to his wound.
Tears welled in Mia's eyes, spilling over almost instantly. The salty tracks stained her smooth cheeks and she placed another kiss on his forehead. Brian gazed at her fiercely, his expression suddenly serious.
"Mia." He held her jaw between his two hands, the tubes pulling at the needle embedded in his veins, making his skin stretch unnaturally. "I will be fine. Why are you crying?"
A tiny sob escaped her lips and she blinked rapidly, wiping the back of her hand across her eyes.
"Because, you jerk!"
The two men in the room stared at her, bewilderment spreading across their faces.
"Do you know how worried I've been?" she growled. "And here you sit, joking with me? Acting like it isn't a big deal? Acting like you didn't just get shot and almost die?" She huffed and puffed indignantly, glowering directly at him before rounding on Dom. "And you!"
He blinked with confusion. "What'd I do?"
"You didn't even say hi! You didn't even ask how he was! Do men have no feelings?" Mia swirled on her heel and folded her arms across her chest stubbornly, glaring unseeingly at the television perched high above their heads.
Dom and Brian exchanged baffled glances. And then they both exploded into gales of laughter. Mia stamped her foot angrily, facing them again.
"Why is it that whenever I get mad someone laughs?" she howled.
This made them laugh harder, and Brian clutched at his ribs.
"Stop…!" he cackled, doubling over. "Don't—make me—laugh! It hurts!"
"You're gonna pull your stitches," Dom managed between bursts of laughter. "And I'm going to laugh!"
Mia's lips twitched upward; she couldn't resist smiling at Brian's torn expression. His brow was knitted and his nose wrinkled in pain, but his lips had stretched into a grin and his face was flushed with excitement.
When they'd finally calmed down, after Brian's abs really began to hurt, Mia curled up into his side and they sat in silence for a little, enjoying the long-absent peace. Fluttering determinedly, Mia's eyelids struggled to remain open, but her exhaustion won out in the end. Like Dom, her sleeping pattern had been flipped and twisted and bent until sleep was a rare event. Her chest rose and fell steadily with her even breaths, and Brian tucked her head under his chin. Gazing meaningfully at Dom, he opened his mouth to speak.
The older brother shushed him before he could say anything.
"But—"
"Not now," Dom groaned. "I just got that out of my head."
"Dom—" Brian attempted.
"I just relaxed!" he protested. "We'll talk later."
"But—"
Dom closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning far back in the chair. "Brian," he sighed exasperatedly. "You're going to have a stroke if you keep worrying. Chill. Listen to the healing words." Dom jerked his chin toward the bickering announcers on the television, a small mocking smile curling his lips. "Let me sleep."
*A/N: This chapter's kinda slow, I know. It's basically to illustrate how heavily each of them needs to chill so they can heal. Like, you rest when you're sick to get better. This is what they need, and they've been neglecting it.
