Weller doesn't know how he got himself into this situation. All he knows is it's both the worst and best idea she's ever come up with, that she fucking bamboozled him with unfailing logic and those sassy worried eyes.
He has always taken care of himself, it was a fact of life. As a kid it was a necessity, a hard lesson. As an adult, the habit was ingrained. If he let someone else care for him then he was relinquishing control, saying he couldn't do it all on his own. He had let Sarah bandage him up when she lived at his place because they were family of course. But he had never been the kind of guy to moan about his injuries and illnesses to girlfriends, hadn't been the type to want girls to kiss it better.
He definitely wants Jane to kiss it better.
It is such a bad idea. He would never let anyone else do this for him other than his sister. And then only because she would insist and pout if he didn't let her. He would most definitely not let Nas play caretaker to him, nor could he even imagine her offering the service. Not that she couldn't be tender, human. Just he wouldn't want it, to put her in that position, to be in that role with her. They like each other and the sex is good but there's not much more than that. It's the story of all his girlfriends really.
But this? Sleeping in Jane's spare room, under her ever watchful eye. Being told to eat, that it's time to change his dressings. He would normally be so resentful, full of irritation that he can't do it all alone. And yet. He finds himself looking forward to her ministrations, her admonitions. The way her fingers deftly check his wound for any sign of infection, how close she leans in to re-bandage his shoulder. The little scowl she wears when he's pushing his physical limits, trying to ignore the pain of his injury.
And so far he's only been there less than twenty-four hours, has spent most of that time asleep.
She had put him to bed directly from the hospital and he had been so worn out from his attempted escape that he'd slept through the rest of the day. Then he had basically gone right back to sleep after a strenuous evening of slowly feeding himself take out, followed by Jane cleaning and re-bandaging his wound.
At least he hadn't made any of those pitiful noises he remembers making in the back of that fire truck. Weller still groans internally when he thinks about everything that happened, how he'd screwed it all up. How Jane had to both save him and confront Roman on her own. And now take care of his sorry ass, when it was all his fault in the first place.
There are so many things he's upset with himself about that they all just mill around in his head. Currently he's thinking about how angry he had been at her when she came back, how he had blamed all his hurt on her. The pain of letting his father back into his life only to learn that his oldest fear was true. The heartache of finding Taylor only to lose her again. The brokenness of losing Taylor and Jane all at once.
He was the one that convinced himself Jane was Taylor, convinced her too. He was so sure that he'd let his father off the hook, gave him a second chance. Then he'd arrested Jane without any real evidence, not even giving her a chance to explain. Didn't do anything to prevent the CIA from torturing her, didn't do nearly enough to find her. Then, to top it off, he had let himself and everyone else blame her for what happened to Mayfair.
He knows he's said some hurtful things to her, acted so coldly towards her. And as much as he hates to admit it, Kurt knows her well enough to understand how much pain it must have been causing her. But she still came in every day, displayed endless loyalty and patience for him and the team. Because Jane has the most integrity, the biggest heart of anyone.
Weller doesn't know how she can just put it all aside and care so tenderly for him. Surely she must hate having him there in her safe house where he'd been so incredibly harsh to her. A constant reminder of what happened between them, all of their worst history.
Kurt sighs, tries to shake himself out of his funk. He knows he's morose because he's injured and useless, because he feels like he's been foisted on Jane, that she had little choice but to take care of him in this absurd arrangement. He's the goddamned AD of the New York branch of the FBI. It did not meet his personal standards to be forcing his care on an asset.
But as Weller lies in bed, listening to Jane work out in the living room, he knows she wouldn't let him leave even if he insisted. Which makes him feel pathetic yet relieved, because he definitely can't take care of himself at the moment and would never have asked anyone to help him.
He hears Jane finish her morning exercises then start the shower, desperately tries to turn his mind away from the mental image that starts to form. This is why it's such a terrible idea, he thinks. His inappropriate Jane-related thoughts already run rampant without her constant presence, he can't possibly keep them at bay while living in her space. Especially when it's the weekend and neither of them have anywhere to go.
Weller gets out of bed, needs to occupy his mind with something other than listening to Jane shower. He searches the kitchen and finds coffee supplies but not much else so he awkwardly uses his broken hand to start some brewing, almost dropping the pot but somehow saving it in the end.
While the coffee brews Weller explores the rest of the space, curious about how Jane lives. But his investigations turn up very little and he's done looking around by the time he hears her exit the bathroom.
A few minutes later Jane emerges from her room looking incredibly morning fresh. She pours two cups of coffee and puts a couple slices of bread in the toaster, then brings the mugs over to the table.
Kurt walks over to the table and sits down, absurdly nervous and excited about the act of morning coffee with Jane. He watches as she waits for the toast, his head abuzz with too many thoughts. He tries to not make it obvious yet it's hard to control and he's still half dazed when she brings the toast to the table with some peanut butter and jam.
"Sorry, this is all I've got," she says shyly.
After his look about of the place, Weller knows it's true. He's never seen a more barren living space, devoid of anything personal. Which just doesn't make sense to him. Jane affects everyone she meets so strongly, how can her home not reflect anything of her?
He knows he's avoiding the obvious. That it's not her home at all, just a FBI safe house. That her space does reflect her isolation, her impermanence.
The thought chills him to his bones. He doesn't like to think of her so untethered that she could fly off at anytime, like the bird tattoo that so visually defines her. Though she owes him nothing, has already gone above and beyond to show her loyalty. Everything had been so bleak without her. Whatever the cost, he wants, needs her, in his life.
"Kurt?" she asks with a hint of concern. "Are you okay?"
He realizes he's been staring at the toast, internally waging a fierce debate about whether it's the time to bring up all his worries about her. If he goes with his gut instinct, he's just going to overdo it and piss her off, start the day off horribly. But the thing is, Weller isn't sure he knows any other way, only has ever gone at problems with his usual bull in a china shop method. What he does know is he doesn't want to upset her, just needs her to be more attached to everything. Her space, her life, him.
Even if it doesn't make any sense. That having things meant Jane wouldn't disappear. He is all too aware of the fact that Jane could easily vanish at any point and he would be unlikely to ever find out what happened to her. That had already been proven to him, by their so-called allies at the CIA. Though of course he was mainly to blame for that situation, should have just let her talk to him, not dealt with all of it while half-drunk and overly emotional.
This is all going through his head, making him stare at the plate of toast and worrying Jane. Weller looks up and sees the furrow in her brow, decides he can't flip out on her at the moment. Not when she's volunteered to take care of him and is stuck with him all day.
"Yeah, toast is fine," he finally replies. "Sorry, I was just thinking."
Jane gives him an inquiring look and Kurt remembers how much he loves being under her scrutiny. The way she used to look at him, the depth of their connection. He had forgotten all that in his anger. Or maybe it was its loss that had made him so upset.
"About what?" she finally asks.
It's an opening, he's just got to use it well.
"What we should do today," he replies innocently.
Jane questions him with her eyes when he doesn't go any further, lets one side of her mouth curl into a grin.
"And? Any conclusions?" she asks, clearly wondering why he's being cryptic.
"Shopping," Weller answers seriously.
At first Jane tilts her head at him in confusion, pauses for a moment before replying thoughtfully.
"Right sorry, I keep forgetting most of your stuff was smoke-damaged," she reasons. "We should definitely go get you some more clothes. What else do you need?"
"Yeah, well. I could use another pair of sweats," he says. "But I was thinking more like food? And maybe some house things?"
Now she's giving him a very suspicious look, trending towards a frown. He recognizes it's the risky point of the conversation, that he has to tread with care.
"I eat take out," she replies. "And what house things?"
It does sound ridiculous when she says it that way. The safe house has all the furnishings necessary and it's not like he expects her to want to decorate the place. He's just upset that there isn't anything tying Jane to where she lives other than a bag of clothing and toiletries.
Damn it. He just wanted her to buy her stuff, hadn't exactly come up with how to explain it.
"Well, now that I'm here and I have absolutely nothing else to do, I'm going to cook for you," Kurt says. That part is easy, it had been a major part of the plan anyways. She clearly didn't eat enough, there weren't even leftover takeout containers in the fridge. And now that he's looking, he can see how thin she is, almost frail. Which is not Jane-like at all and certainly not going to continue under his watch.
Jane shakes her head at him.
"You're supposed to be resting," she argues.
"I'm going to be bored out of my mind, Jane," he replies. "If it takes me all day to make dinner because I've only got half an arm and half a hand then at least it keeps me occupied. And when you're here, you can do the chopping. Maybe you'll even learn something about cooking and not have to just eat toast."
She scowls at his little jab but with a hint of a smile. So far so good, he thinks.
"Okay, food shopping," she agrees. "But seriously, Weller. What house things could you possibly want to buy?"
Just anything that says your existence is permanent, he thinks. Something that says Jane lives here, that shows how incredible you are.
Weller shrugs.
"I'm not sure," he says. "Some books? Uno Attack? A cactus? Don't worry, no major purchases."
Jane's expression is now all amusement, zero comprehension. She even laughs when he mentions the ridiculous game, shakes her head at the memory.
"I don't think you're going to win at Uno Attack anytime soon," she says. "But okay, we'll go shopping."
Success!
Weller feels his chest lighten, a grin spreading across his face. Things look even brighter when Jane returns his goofy smile with just a hint of suspicion still in her eye. It's absurd it makes him so happy, that he can do something for her. Even if it's just buying her a plant, maybe some fuzzy slippers.
After all, she saved his life, has chosen to put up with his grumpy injured self. The least he can do is keep her fed, let her know how much he cares.
