She woke up in his bed the next morning, with her back aching a bit yet from cramps. Prince trotted in with a mouthful of socks, swinging by her side of the bed to show off his treasures. Then he wagged his tail and wandered over to Jason's side and plopped on the floor. She glanced at the clock. Half past nine. With a careful peek in case he didn't have the mask on, she rolled over. He laid on his right side facing away. The poor man must be exhausted to not have gotten up early to put on the mask.
She rubbed her eyes, weary with exhaustion yet from his one o'clock asthma attack that had made them leave the apartment and come here. There had to be some kind of allergen or something at the apartment to have caused the worst attacks he'd ever had.
She yawned and cuddled up to his heat. Vague dreams surfaced from last night - dreams of trying to make shape of his burned face, as if her subconscious tried to make her remember.
He stirred and stretched.
She draped an arm over his ribs from behind. "Are you feeling alright?"
"Tired."
"Do you need more medicine? Your voice is still rough."
"In a minute." He started to roll over to cuddle.
She slipped out of bed and around to the nightstand. "No, now." Keeping her eyes downcast from his face, she handed him the inhaler and didn't move to get back in bed.
He sighed, which sent him into a coughing fit that seemed to be preludes to his attacks. He sat up so she could only see his left profile and took the inhaler. She climbed back in bed while he used it so he wouldn't feel like she babysat. However, she sat tense, ready to give another emergency steroid injection like last night. Picking up the stethoscope on her nightstand, she listened to his back, now familiar with what sounds were the asthma. The wheezing resolved. He laid down and reached to pull her down too.
Prince caused this attack. The allergens from the apartment probably congregated in his fur. She shot out of bed. "Prince! Come!" She clapped her hands and ran out. Prince was only too happy to play chase and zoomed down the stairs after her to the front door. "Pete!"
He stepped out of the kitchen with Trudy, both of them wide-eyed with apparent shock at seeing her in a nightgown.
"Can you wash Prince? Trudy, vaccum the house. Jason had another attack when Prince came in." She grabbed Prince's sock and threw it out the door. Prince shot out after it.
"Ah! I'll wash the floors too, Saints in a can! Hurry! Hurry!" Trudy ran to the closet with arms waiving.
She darted upstairs.
Jason sat up in bed with the half mask on and a frown. "What is all the racket?" His voice streamed out almost normal.
"You're allergic to something on Prince from the apartment. Pete is washing him and Trudy is vacuuming the house." She sat on the bed beside him and froze. He held a syringe.
He looked a bit sheepish. "I sort of forgot about the allergy injections when I went to California."
She stared. "You sort of forgot. How often are you supposed to get them?"
"Every two weeks," he mumbled.
"What?!" She screeched. "You've gone five or six weeks without them? So last night probably wouldn't have happened?"
He had the brains to not answer that.
"I can't believe you." She grabbed the alcohol wipe in his lap and ripped it open with excessive force. "You're a freaking doctor and literally a genius and don't remember to take meds that you could die without. Unbelievable." She sat back with the wipe, rolled her eyes, and threw it in the air. "Good. I'm so mad I didn't wash my hands first." She marched to the bathroom.
"I can do it."
She walked back out with clean hands and got another wipe out of his bag. "I can do it," she huffed.
"Are you truly angry with me?" Worry wrinkled his brow.
"Lord knows I should be, but you caused yourself enough trouble last night." She opened the wipe and sat on the bed. "Where?"
He turned and pointed to his left arm above the bicep. "Pinch so it's not an intramuscular injection."
"How can you do this yourself?" She frowned and cleaned the site.
"Stevens usually does it."
She gave him a look, not in the best mood yet. "I'm your girlfriend - I get first dibs on helping you."
"On sticking me?" He cracked a smile. "You might be happy that you get to do it three times a week for awhile because I missed several doses."
"That's not funny." She pinched his skin up. "Like this?"
He looked. "Yes. The needle goes all the way in."
She gritted her teeth and slid in the needle on the first attempt, pulling the plunger back to make sure it hadn't knicked a vessel.
"Emma?"
She slowly injected but glanced at him. Sadness and tenderness reflected in his eye.
"You didn't need to do any of this the past twelve hours."
Something in his voice seemed so vulnerable. "I wanted to, Jay." She withdrew the syringe and pressed a gauze over the site, rubbing a bit to seal in the serum.
He took it to cap himself, like he did last night too so she wouldn't stick herself with a dirty needle. Then he set it on the nightstand and turned to her. "I know." His hands slipped into hers as he looked into her eyes. "Last night was the first time I turned to someone for help rather than try to hide and handle it myself." A small, embarrassed smile touched his lips. "In the washroom was the worst and fastest an attack has ever happened, and I forgot about the inhaler - my first thought was to get to you."
That melted her heart. "That's how it should be." Her fingers trailed down the side of his face, relishing in the smoothness of his skin and prickliness of his five o'clock shadow. When he looked away for a moment, seeming a bit nervous to open up, she leaned forward and brushed a kiss over his lips. "Tell me what you're thinking. I see a thousand thoughts running through your mind, but I can't hear what they are," she whispered against his lips and sat back.
His lips parted a hair, but it took a moment before he said anything. "I'm not afraid that you do it out of duty."
She frowned. Not exactly his usual soft words.
"My ex would've done it without a complaint, but I would've been ashamed and emasculated and...would've felt so broken. I've felt those before with you because I was afraid that's what you would think. But last night and just now I didn't feel any of that."
That broke her heart. "Oh, Jay." She cupped his face. "Never be afraid that I'll think you're less of a man because of anything. I think you're more of a man because you suffer all of these health problems as a result of saving people. These health things make me protective because I don't want you to hurt or feel ill or have a hard time doing something. Never mistake that protectiveness for pity." Tears stung her eyes. "I could feel that you weren't pulling away like you have other times." When his lips pressed together and tears gathered in his eye, her tears welled. "What's wrong?"
His face crumpled as he fought the tears. "Do you...do you remember seeing my face?" His voice broke.
The tears fell as she shook her head. Why was he so terrified? "I had dreams last night, but your entire face was a blur like I couldn't figure it out. That's all I remember. You don't have to be scared that I saw."
A tear dropped from his lashes. "You did, Emma." His lip quivered. "And you didn't give it a second thought. In the next instant, you touched my face so I could use the inhaler. You saw and touched it, but acted like it was nothing."
"Because there is nothing to react to like you think." Ever so slowly, she reached up with her left hand to touch the mask. He tensed. At the last moment before her fingers brushed the mask, he turned his head away and dropped his eye to the bed. The rejection stung, but it was still so early in their relationship. He still needed to learn to trust her. "Your face is not an 'it.' Your face is beautiful because your face is part of you. And I love everything about you."
He swallowed hard and said in a thick voice, "Do you know that before you came, I could count on one hand the times I've cried." A whisp of a smile danced on his lips.
She smiled and brushed at her eyes. "It's good for you." He seemed to be at his limit for opening up, almost needing to lighten the mood. But a bit of a wall went up around his heart too. If he could be so open, she should too. Biting her lip with a shy smile, she opened her mouth. He wouldn't mind giving another cramps massage. "Jaaay?"
A laugh burst out of him, lighting up his tired face. He coughed into his arm a couple times, but the asthma remained at bay. "You already know you're going to get what you want if you say it like that." He smiled. "What, sweetheart?"
This playful side of the relationship held things together as much as the serious side, and she loved it. She climbed up on the bed and straddled his knees, leaning her hands down on his thighs. "My tummy is still kinda cramping." With a playful smile, she bowed her head a bit and gave him big eyes.
He chuckled and held out his arms. "You practiced that on your father, didn't you? You have that look down pat. If you asked for a trillion dollar house like that, I'd probably buy it for you. And be in debt for the next ten lifetimes. I quiver to think what you'll convince me to do with that look."
She climbed into his lap, and he lifted the blankets for her. Slipping her hand behind to stroke him for just an instant, pleased when he gasped and she had his body's instant attention. She frowned and reclined against his chest, trapping his arousal. "Liar. You aren't all aquiver."
His hand slipped under the blankets to massage her belly through her nightgown. "Minx. Serves you right to be poked in the back." A smile in his voice softened his words. His other hand squeezed her hip, releasing some of the tension coiled in her muscles.
Turning her head to rest a cheek against his muscular chest that cradled her head just right, she closed her eyes. "Your lungs sound better."
"I'm not concerned about my lungs right now," he growled, his voice rumbling throughout his chest. His hand left her hip and traveled up to massage her tender breasts.
She sighed, almost half asleep as he worked the aches from her body. "Clearly. You're more concerned about stripping me completely naked in your bed and touching me in whatever way you please while I moan and beg you for more." The poor man shouldn't be tormented after his rough night, but his superb response and his hands tightening on her breasts for restraint made it impossible to keep quiet. "Mmmm. I do like that, Jay. When you take me, grab my breasts like that. God, you're going to be a good lover." She grasped his hands to squeeze tighter, the deep pressure so wonderful in fading away the ache.
"Oh god, Emma," he panted, his arousal pressing into her back like a rock. His heart thundered fast under her ear.
Keeping her eyes closed, she stroked his arm. "Shhhh. You need to be quiet today so you don't have another attack." This world between consciousness and slumber was so calming.
"Then stop taunting me. I'm not a saint, Em." He growled deep in his chest, and his hands ran up and down her sides from her hips to breasts.
A breathy sigh whisped out of her throat, and she draped her arms under his to hold onto the back of his shoulders, offering him full access to her breasts. "I love it when you growl. Do you want to know what I fantasize about, Jay?" she purred, her eyes still closed in relaxation from his full body massage. His arousal started to wake her up and made her bold.
"Oh god, no, I don't." The poor man groaned in agony. He certainly seemed well endowed, if the pressure against her back was any indication.
"You come home and need me so bad that you don't say anything. You stalk across the room and tear our clothes off, in such a fever that you arouse me by telling me how much you have to have me. Then you throw me down on the bed or couch." He breathed hard. "Your aggression has me wet, but you check with your hand just to make sure while you kiss me." His body started to coil. "Then you claim me hard and fast, Jay."
"Oh god," he gasped and jerked a hand between them, his body fighting for release and tightening around her. He breathed hard, having pulled himself from the edge just in time. His forehead rested on her shoulder. "Emma, stop before he have to get married tonight. I'm so hard it hurts."
She sat up to remove the physical contact from his arousal. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you hurt." She looked over her shoulder to see his eye squeezed shut. He kept firm pressure on himself, as if holding back the pleasure with sheer force. Something to get his mind off it. Or stop the arousal. "Um, um, your mom naked." She snorted a laugh in shock and her hands flew to her mouth.
His eye shot open. "What? Ew! Emma!" His hand let go and so did his body's attention.
"What? It worked." She rolled off with laughter and got up.
"You're sick, you know that? You're going to get such major payback when your cramps are gone." He got up with surprising speed.
She squealed and ran out the door. His footsteps pounded behind, and he coughed a little. "You shouldn't run today!" When she rounded the corner, his footsteps didn't follow. She looked over her shoulder and slowed down. Her smile died when he didn't come. Her heart beat faster. Maybe he started having an attack. "Jay?" She ran back and turned the corner.
"Boo!" He popped out in her face with a smile.
She screamed and spun around to escape.
He caught her arm with a laugh and pulled her back against his chest. She squirmed and laughed too hard to speak, only making him laugh more. Slipping a hand under his arm, she tickled. When he yelped in surprise, she giggled and broke free. "You're it!" Then she took off around the corner, barely missing running into Trudy.
When he came just a step behind, he plowed right into the woman. He grabbed Trudy's shoulders and stumbled, managing to keep them upright.
She stopped. They both seemed alright. But her smile died when she looked at his face.
He straightened, serious at the flip of a switch even though he stood there barefoot and shirtless. "My apologies, Ms. Van Hoodie."
Trudy stared with her mouth open, the vaccum in one hand and the cord in the other. "Are you playing, Dr. Port? I've never heard you laugh so much, don'tcha know."
"No. I was taking Ms. Hoplin to her room. I must attend to some work," he said, looking directly at her now. He turned to go.
She cocked her head at his blatant lie and sudden change of manner. "Yes, we were playing tag. And he should play tag." She stuck her chin out.
He spun around, his face none too pleased.
Trudy's mouth dropped farther, if possible.
With a smile, she bounced over and grabbed his arm to tug him back down his hall if he was too embarrassed to chase her in front of Trudy. "You're it, Jay."
He didn't budge. "Get dressed, Ms. Hoplin. The morning is growing late." Then he turned and disappeared into his room, shutting the door.
She stared. He seemed angry when just a moment ago he'd been laughing.
"Jesus would make it my business if He wanted. I won't say a word, but for his sake, don't tell anyone you're...havin' monkey business." When she blinked, Trudy whispered, "Havin' relations." Then her voice resumed normal levels. "He'd be ashamed for people to assume no one wants to marry him and he's getting pitty...frisking."
Her mouth dropped. "We aren't having sex!"
Trudy covered her ears. "None of my business, don'tcha know."
She jerked Trudy's arm down. "Is that what people think? That we're having sex, and I won't marry him."
Trudy bit her lip. "I shouldn't say nothin' because Dr. Port doesn't like gossip, don'tcha know. But the townsfolk saw you in his car a couple times with him. They think he's been keeping you prisoner and seduces you." The woman's face burned. "They say you're so beautiful and he's so ugly is why he wants you." She sniffled and dabbed at her eyes with her apron. "He doesn't like to go into town anymore because of it. I suppose he was ashamed just now that I'd add to the gossip, so he acted all gruff and disinterested in you. It's Jesus's place to judge, not mine, but don't worry about a thing. Dr. Port will be honorable and do right by you." Trudy patted her hand and continued down the hall.
She stared at his door, and her heart sank. He was talking about marriage to save her reputation with strangers?
A few minutes later after getting dressed, she marched back to his room. It was empty. So she marched downstairs. He sat at his desk in his usual attire, including the suit jacket even though it was Saturday. She slammed the door shut and stormed over, pointing a finger at the ground. "You're talking about marriage because the town thinks you're screwing me?!"
He sat back with all the patience in the world, the pen still in his hand on the desk. "I'm not 'screwing' you - you're not a bottle. And no, I'm not going to weave our lives around gossip. A bit more formality around here wouldn't hurt anyone, however. I do not question Stevens or Ms. Van Hoodie keeping matters private, but I will not have staff wonder about your honor or stare at your belly to see if a wedding is coming."
His sudden formality hurt, even though he meant well...kind of. He had a wall slowly building since finding out she didn't recall seeing his face. He'd been so at peace thinking she'd seen his face but hadn't reacted. Now he shoved her away as a knee-jerk reaction. It would only last for awhile, but that didn't mean he shouldn't know it hurt all the same. She leaned her hands on the desk. "There are times when I want to burn that goddamn mask, Dr. Port. If I didn't think you'd hate me forever, I would."
His eye narrowed, so obviously trapped between fear and the desire for freedom. "If you have no care for your own reputation, then it's left to me to care for, Ms. Hoplin. No more nights in the same room - "
Panic surged up. With three nights until the trial, the nightmares would come full force. And he knew that. She shoved down the fear and hurt as hard as possible. "I didn't realize you didn't want me to come last night." THe words didn't come out as strong as intended, but more as a choked statement. When he didn't say anything, she walked out and shut the door.
Pete walked in with Prince, who was wet from his bath.
"Thanks for washing him. Can you take me home?" She swallowed down the tears.
He looked at her in suprise, but seemed to take in her mood and nodded.
She sat in the front seat with him while Prince sat on a towel in the back.
"It's none of my business, but lover's spats will happen. He doesn't know you left, does he?" He glanced at her.
Turning her attention out the window, she said, "I think he does, he just didn't want to outright tell me to go."
"If I may be frank, he doesn't talk to me much, but I hear him talk to Trudy when he's upset. Some of the townsfolk are creating gossip about you and him, and he's very upset what they're doing to your reputation."
"Reputations aren't as important as a hundred years ago either. We shouldn't gossip about him, Pete."
"Yes, ma'm."
"Don't 'ma'm' me."
"Dr. Port asked Trudy and I to be more respectful to you."
Of course he did.
