Clara had been underestimated her whole life. She was 5'3 and doe eyed, with a temper from hell. Shane liked to joke that her height, or lack thereof, caused her to be closer to the fiery pits of damnation and so she had anger to match. Moving to America hadn't helped, people took one look at her and labelled her 'cute', she opened her mouth and revealed her accent and, well, all bets were off. It was quite frustrating, being a tiny British doctor fighting for her place in a male dominated hospital in small town Georgia. She had fought tooth and nail for the respect of her peers, much harder than anyone else had to. There had been many nights after they'd gotten together that Shane had held her as sobs wracked her small frame, and that had just made her more upset. They didn't deserve her tears, no matter how much their words hurt.
Clara's mum had died when she was nineteen, but the cancer had taken her from her family long before then. She was why Clara had gone into medicine, albeit a different field, but medicine all the same. She knew it was cliche: girl's mum gets cancer, mum dies, girl flees home to foreign place to escape memories and start anew; girl becomes doctor, girl struggles with sexist male coworkers while falling in love with a small town police officer. Her life was like a goddamn television show, almost unreal. She had no idea just how true that would become.
It was half six when Clara finally dropped down on her sofa, a sigh flying from her lungs as the homey piece of furniture seemed to absorb the stress of a 48 hour shift. Clara had become a trauma surgeon and spent most of her time in the ER. After leaving London and moving to such a small town, she figured her shifts would be pretty slow, but she was amazed by the amount of severe injuries drunk backwater teens could obtain. Her eyes had just slipped closed when the shrill ringing of her mobile startled her so badly she flinched right off the couch and onto the wood floors.
"Fuck. Where'd it go, fuck shit, fuck." She got three new bruises and cuts wiggling her way under the couch frantically, praying she wasn't about to miss a vital work call. She managed to snatch it up triumphantly and slam the green button, phone flinging up to her ear. "Doctor Walsh."
"Clara." Her shoulders relaxed at the familiar sound of her husband's voice.
"Hello, love. How's your day been?"
"Clara, Rick's been shot."
"What?!" Her head shot up, forgetting that she was still wedged under the sofa and she swore loudly when her head collided with a screw.
"You alright?"
"Yeah, damn couch and it's damn screws. What happened? Is Rick going to be okay? Are you okay? Where was he shot?What kind of bullet? Does he have a doctor assigned already? Does he need surgery? How's Lori? Has someone told Carl? How long ago was this?"
"Woah, woah, babe! Slow down. One question at a time, Christ. I'm fine, Rick's going into surgery now, Lori's as to be expected and we just picked Carl up and told him. Now what are you doing under the couch?"
"I knocked my mobile under it when I startled at it's ringing. Oi! Don't you laugh at me mister, it's your fault!"
"Yeah, yeah, it's my fault."
"And don't think I didn't notice that you didn't answer all my questions."
"It's a long conversation to have over the phone. Besides, the real question is... are you still under the couch?"
"Shut up!" She flushed when she realised that she was, in fact, still under the sofa, and growled in annoyance. "No."
His chuckles had turned to full out laughter at this point, the mental image of his wife just lying under the hulking piece of furniture while taking a call was too much. "You are, aren't you!"
Clara huffed as she wiggled backwards, futilely trying to avoid any more screws or sharp bits. "Shut up!" She needed to change the subject. "When are you going to be home, you tosser?"
"I'm on my way there now."
"Good, cause I'm going to slap you."
"Mhm, sure. Whatever you say sweetheart."
"Are you daring me, Shane Walsh?" She finally managed to squirm her way free from the wicked grasp of the couch, and leapt to her feet with a triumphant shout.
"Finally get out from under the furniture?"
"Oh, you're definitely getting a slap, you are."
"If you can even reach my face."
Clara gasped indignantly, "OI!" His booming laugh was his only response before the line clicked and he was gone. She huffed and threw her mobile on the couch, folding her arms and glaring at it viscously. Not even thirty seconds later it dinged, screen lighting up with a text.
'I love you.'
She grinned brightly as she sent a 'sure you do' in reply, only holding out for about ten seconds before caving.
'I love you too.'
Thirty minutes later, Shane was fumbling with his key in an attempt to carry not only Chinese take away, but a bottle of wine as well, all as he tried to unlock the front door. It had been a long and emotionally exhausting day, and he was ready to be home. Speaking on the phone with Clara earlier had definitely been the pick me up he'd needed at the time, but nothing could ever come close to spending time with her in person.
When he finally got the door unlocked and opened, after much cursing and almost ruining their dinner three times, he groaned in relief. "Fucking finally." He set the takeaway on the counter as well as the wine and his keys before striding over to the couch, a small chuckle escaping as he recalled the mental image of his wife splayed out beneath it.
Speaking of his wife, Clara was curled up on the soft cushions, hair haloed behind her and dangling over the edge like a chocolate waterfall, Shane's fingers twitching with the urge to run through it. Her face was soft and peaceful, full lips slightly parted and her lashes brushing her round cheeks. Fuck, she was beautiful. He was a lucky man and he damn well knew it. Normally he'd let her sleep after such a long shift, not the longest she'd ever pulled but still longer than the human body was meant to go without proper rest, but she needed to eat and she loved Chinese.
"Clara, sweetheart. Wake up, I brought some dinner, and your favourite wine." He'd perched on the edge of the sofa, thumb lightly stroking over the arch of her brow as he pressed a kiss to her pert nose and chuckled at the sleepy groan she let out at being disturbed. "I know you're tired honey, but you've gotta eat something. After you eat you can go back to sleep."
Her eyes finally cracked open, and she stared sleepily at him through lidded eyes. "Shane?"
"The one and only."
"Shut up." She was definitely awake now.
"You've been saying that a lot today."
"You've been saying a lot of stupid shit today." He let out a laugh and she sat up, smiling softly at him before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.
"I'm very happy that you weren't shot." He gave her another kiss before standing up, offering her a hand as he winked cheekily at her.
"You and me both, sweetheart."
"Never mind. I take it back."
"You can't, it's too late. You loooove me." She shoved his shoulder as she moved past him to go dish up their dinner.
"Shut up."