A/N: Hi, friends. So, after last week, I'm still kind of fried. Because I had an unexpected arrival on Wednesday in the form of a new baby in the family, so this is going to be short and sweet.
Look. I'm going to be going back on hiatus for a while. Until the last week of September. On the 27th I'll be back, but I'll be back for the whole week. If that's ok with you. That's right. You'll be getting me for an entire week. Monday through Friday, it'll be the two of us…Or the more of us. But for the most part, it's you and me. How's that sound? Good? Fantastic. Because now, I need to go get some work done and not fry myself like MC in this week's chapter. By the way, we all need a Seven in our lives. No, I will not be taking questions on that at this time, but I'll just be over here if you need me. Love you x
I still had the worst pain in my stomach from last night, but damn, those wings were always worth it. Sure, they were atomic and probably took years off my life, but I'll die happy. When I woke up that morning, I felt an arm delicately draped across my stomach. Almost as if he's deliberately trying not to push very hard. Bless him. A part of me wanted to go back to sleep, but I have a feeling today's going to be a long day. So, I might as well. It feels like I slept in, but I'm hoping it wasn't too late.
I rolled over and noticed Seven looking down at me, "I wasn't going to wake you. Promise."
"Bless you," I got a much more proper good morning, "What time is it?"
"It's a little after ten," he pulled me into his chest, "Why?"
"Just wondering." Shit. It's already that late? I wasn't supposed to be sleeping that late. We have shit to do today, Seven. I know I would've been pissed in the moment if he would've woken me up, but it would've been worth it in the end.
"MC," Seven ran his fingers down my spine, "Can I ask you something?"
"I want you to ask me all the questions you can," I assured him, "I will never say no to you wanting to increase your knowledge."
"Especially when you're better at a lot of what I'm garbage at."
"What do you want to know, Seven?" I shut my eyes again. I know I'm going to regret it, but I doubt I'll fall back asleep. Even though Seven had a bad habit of doing that for me.
He held me a little tighter, "How bad were you?"
"What?" I perked up, confused to all hell, "What do you mean, how bad was I? I'm fine."
"No, no, no," Seven hushed me, "You don't sleep in, MC. Not that hard. Not ever. Not since I've known you. And the only time you ever sleep that hard is when you're downright, six blog posts, a commission, and a couple side projects levels of exhausted. So, I'm going to ask you again, 606. And be completely and totally honest with me. How bad were you?"
He had a point. It's a good thing he never saw me while I still had the think tank on top of all that. The think tank and the bar. Those were rough days. Those were days when I'd pray for my day off as soon as I possibly could. Even then, I wouldn't allow myself to sit around and do nothing. No matter how badly I needed a day to sit around and do nothing. Because if I wasn't getting something, anything done, I'd get cranky.
"I don't know," I admitted, my head on Seven's shoulder, "I really don't. I know I've had a lot on my plate, but…"
"You need to stop doing that to yourself, MC," Seven growled a bit, trying to keep his temper under control. If I didn't know any better, though, I'd think I crawled into bed with the wrong brother last night. Impossible. Saeran damn near died when he stole sauce from me last night, so I'm pretty sure I have the right one. Still, something in Seven's voice…He sounded pissed.
"I know," I bit my lip, letting the guilt creep in, "It's a habit."
"And a bad one at that," Seven went on, "You know what we should do?"
"Hmm?"
"We should take a trip," he suggested, "Just the two of us. Anywhere in the world is yours."
"I appreciate the sentiment, Seven," I awed, "But I don't think I can do that right now. I'm in the middle of this big project and afterwards, I'll have blog posts to take care of. But if I lock myself in the office for a day or so, I could probably have those blog posts done, so I'll have that going for me."
"I'm telling you that you don't need to stretch yourself so thin," Seven let out a heavy sigh of pure exasperation, "And what do you do? You stretch yourself thinner. You don't need to put these heavy deadlines on yourself, MC."
"I know," I hit my head in his chest, "But welcome to how I run my life."
"Come on," Seven groaned, "Compromise with me here. Please?"
"Alright," I let it go, "Let me finish this project first. And the blog post…"
"MC…" There was no doubt about it. Seven was pissed. Truly, genuinely pissed.
"I swear!" I stuck my pinky out to him, "Just this project and the blog post."
"One last project…" Seven scoffed, a little smirk on his face, "Those are going to be your famous last words, sweetheart. There's always going to be one last project. And then, you'll have another last project. And another last project. You see what I'm getting at here?"
I didn't think we'd start our morning in an argument, but at least we're hashing this out now instead of suppressing it until after the wedding where it builds into resentment, "I guess."
"You guess?" he gasped, "MC, this isn't something you guess at. This is like having the red wire and the blue wire in front of you and guessing which one to cut."
"There's still a 50-50 shot of you cutting the right one…"
"Is this what it's like talking to me?" Seven wondered, "No…Because when I talk to me, at least I make a little bit of sense. I know how I think. I have a relative idea of how you think. And you need to learn how to take a break, MC. Please…After this project, take a break. Please."
"And the blog post…?" I asked.
"Get someone else to do it for you," he put his foot down, "You know how I told you when you were working on Saeran's bathroom that I didn't want to find you passed out on the floor when I came home?"
"Yeah," I nodded, "What about it?"
"You're not only on the floor here, but you're also horribly dehydrated with a splinter in your finger that's already infected and you haven't eaten in two days. There are flies all over the place. It's not like I'm asking you for a kidney, MC. I'm just asking that you take a break. Your friends miss you. Your fiancé misses you. Your fiancé really misses you…I know you come home at the same time every night, but you're also gone for thirteen hours at a crack and I feel like I hardly see you anymore."
Oh, Seven…I know you asked me how bad I've been lately, but how bad have you been…? I suppose this has been one of those all-consuming projects. And I do come home exhausted every night I'm at Jumin's. I didn't think it'd be like this. It's been worth it. Don't get me wrong, but it's…A lot. I just didn't think I was the only one suffering for my art. And hearing Seven so depressed kind of broke me a little.
I curled into him a little more, "Ok. I'll take a little break after this project. And after the blog post goes live."
"Fine," Seven allowed, "But on one condition."
"Name it." Because I don't think I'm in much of a position to negotiate.
"After this project," he demanded, "You wait until after the wedding before you take on another one."
"After the wedding?" I gasped. My job is my life blood. Every time I undertake a project, I feel complete. Waiting until after the wedding might actually kill me, "Seven…That could be months from…"
"MC," Seven wasn't budging, a tear or two falling from his eyes, "Please. Besides, you'll have a whole wedding to play with. It's not like you'll be completely devoid of something to tinker with. Again. I'm not asking you for a kidney. I'm begging you to take a break for a while."
I didn't expect to wake up and get hit by the guilt bus, but here we are. I don't think guilt was the intention. Although, guilt would definitely serve the means to the end. Still, I really do think this is meant with the purest of intentions. Seven's just looking out for me. And I could feel that. But even though I'll have the wedding shit to play with, I think I'll still be able to handle something.
"Only little projects?" I negotiated.
"No."
"What about…" I thought, "Only little projects that might take me a day or two on my own and I bring Saeran with me for all of them?"
"Fine," Seven allowed, "But only if you can make it home by noon when you're working."
"I can try."
"Wonderful," he stole a quick kiss, "You drive a hard bargain, 606. It's too bad you went down the interior design path. You'd make a hell of a lawyer."
"Thank you," I smiled a bit, hoping to ease the tension in the room.
"So…" Seven sat up a little better, "Wedding planning? Yeah?"
"Really?" I squeaked, "You're cool with that?"
"Yeah," he nodded, "Why not? We can do wedding stuff today. It's not like it's you and Saeran getting married and I should have some sort of input here."
"Yay!" I couldn't be happier. After the verbal beating I just went through, I need a day of my brain doing something for me for a change.
"Tell you what," Seven decided, "Why don't you go take a shower? I'll go make you some coffee, ok?"
"Ok," I got out of bed and went straight into the bath…Hold the damn phone. Did Seven say he was getting me coffee? Not only getting me coffee, but making me coffee? Himself? I'm dreaming. I have to be. I'm still asleep. The unpleasantness from earlier was my own psyche manifesting itself in a way that would appeal to me most. And that's my brain's way of telling me to take a break. And now, I'm being rewarded for agreeing to it by the idea of coffee. I'm sure that's exactly what's happening here.
But when I got in the shower, the initial heat burned me. And I felt it. I felt pain. In dreams, I'm not supposed to feel pain. But I'm still skeptical. I didn't know what this was all about, but I'll take it. I decided to take a little longer than usual. Why? I don't know. Because I had a feeling today would be that kind of day. I woke up neurotic about waking up too late, but maybe it wasn't too late. Then, Seven decided to take me over his knee. Either the world has fallen into total chaos or this is really happening.
When I got out of the shower, I went into the closet in a towel and a smile. Unexpectedly, I found a short skirt and a t-shirt on the island in the middle. And a note. Something about this smelled off, yet not totally out of character. Until I read the scratchy, handwritten note.
I promise I didn't try anything on.
I love him. First, he bitches me out for working myself to the bone and now, this. He really does care. He might have a weird way of showing it sometimes, but he has a weird way of doing everything. It wouldn't surprise me if he decided to boil the water on the stove and just pour it through the grounds through the filter and into my coffee cup. The one that says I'm the world's greatest podiatrist. He might not be the most orthodox human being to walk this earth, but he's my little weirdo. I'll take it.
I threw Seven's outfit on and checked myself over in the mirror. Again, he might be a little weirdo, but damn, he's got an eye. And I looked cute in a black miniskirt. When I walked into the kitchen, I was hardly in the doorway and I could smell my coffee from here. It was perfect. I couldn't help but hold my skepticism. Still, I was in no position to complain.
"Here, sweetheart," Seven handed me my cup. Not the world's greatest podiatrist, but instead, I'm hating Mondays. Understandable.
"Thank you," I took my first sips. And it was perfect…Seven, how dare you? I didn't understand why it was so good, but I wasn't going to question it, "Hey, Seven…?"
"Yes, MC?" Seven sat down, cracking open a Red Bull.
"Did you recently get news that I'm dying?" I asked.
"Not that I can remember."
"Is it my birthday?" I don't remember looking at a calendar today. And I'd think I'd remember that.
"Not that I know of," Seven had a brief moment of panic, "Vanderwood…?"
"It's not MC's birthday," Vanderwood assured him, "You're good."
"Thank you!"
When I looked over at Vanderwood, his sleeve came up. I wasn't expecting to see his forearm all bandaged up. I couldn't help but worry a little, "Vanderwood? You ok?"
"Fine," Vanderwood continued putting the dishes away, "Why?"
"What'd you do to your arm?" I asked, trying to be delicate about it. With Vanderwood, it's hard to tell how he hurts himself and if the story attached to it is worth telling.
"It's…" Vanderwood got shifty. Not in the 'I screwed up big and don't want to talk about it' kind of way. It was more like the 'I peed the bed and don't want anyone to know' kind of way, "It's nothing. I burned myself. That's all."
"Uh-huh," I knew better, "No, you didn't. Try again."
"What?" Seven caught wind of our conversation. And that wasn't always a good thing, "Vanderwood, what did you do?"
"That's what I'm trying to figure out," I thought back to the last time I saw Vanderwood. We were in this kitchen. He left here unmarred. He was on his way out. He was on his way to…Huh, "Didn't you say you had a date with Bridget last night?"
"Yeah," Vanderwood brushed me off, "What about it?"
If my assumptions about Bridget were right, she was…a force to be reckoned with. Especially in the context she and Vanderwood see each other in. Which had me thinking. I remember when I first moved out and I had my first roommate. She was kind of like Bridget, but a little sweeter on the outside. Although, we had to part ways when I realized she was using our apartment as a sex dungeon while I was gone. Again, which got me thinking. There was a right and wrong way to do certain things.
"Just let me see your arm," I requested, "I need to know if she's at least using the right kind of rope. I knew someone who saw someone whose old dominatrix used jute rope instead of nylon once and tied it too tight. He was splintered all to hell and it cut up his arm."
"The life you lived before you met me has me concerned, MC," Seven winced, "Is everything ok? Like…In general? Do you need to talk?"
"I'm fine, Seven," I giggled, trying to reach for Vanderwood's arm.
Only for him to yank it away from me, "I don't have rope burns, MC."
Huh. So, if it's not rope burns and Vanderwood's still fighting me tooth and nail to keep me in the dark…I had it. I knew what he did. Vanderwood and I told each other practically everything. So, if this is something bad, he would've led with that. But this was something that didn't put him in physical danger, yet he kept it covered. So, chances are, it's something he would've done willingly…And it wasn't rope burn…I got it!
A little smirk made its way onto my face, "Bridget talked you into a tattoo, didn't she, Vanderwood?"
"What?!" Vanderwood squeaked, his cheeks turning pink, "No! Of course not!"
"SHE TOTALLY DID!" I knew better. Vanderwood didn't blush for anything. Except for when I caught him in anything.
"She…" he grumbled to himself, "She didn't talk me into it…But we were talking about it…"
"And you pulled the trigger."
"I did."
"Show me!" I begged, "Please?"
"Yeah, Vanderwood!" Seven watched over my shoulder, "Show her!"
"If you two can settle down," Vanderwood rolled his eyes, peeling back his bandages, "I'll show you, but keep in mind, it's still healing, so it might be all scabbed over and look like shit. I'll show you pictures, too."
"Ok," I relaxed, appreciating the spazz at my back.
"Alright," Vanderwood pulled his sleeve back and showed us the crow perched on the hilt of a bleeding dagger, "See? I told you it'd be all scabbed up and look like shit."
"Vanderwood," I resisted every urge in my body to touch it, "It's beautiful."
"Beautiful wasn't the word I was thinking," Seven admitted, "I was thinking more along the lines of badass!"
"I've been wanting to do it for a while now," Vanderwood tried to rewrap his arm, but he started getting frustrated with it, so me being the kind soul I am, did it for him, "But yeah. Bridget kind of talked me into it."
"And how was it?" I asked, clipping the bandage back in place.
"It wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it'd be," he admitted, "But it's also not my first rodeo, so…I knew what to expect."
"You have other tattoos?" Seven looked at him strange, "Since when?"
"Some keep notches on the bedpost," Vanderwood put his leg up on the counter, showing off the tally marks on his ankle, "Some keep them in their holsters. I keep them here."
"Dare I ask what the notches mean?" I worried, relatively aware of what Vanderwood does when our backs are turned.
"Vanderwood's got a license to kill," Seven slipped his shoes on, "Chances are, those are dropped bodies."
"And that doesn't bother you?"
"MC," Vanderwood put a hand to my shoulder, "Can I put this into a perspective that'll be easier for you to swallow?"
"Please," I insisted, not sure how to feel about Vanderwood having his license to kill.
"All of these marks?" he explained, "Well…How do you feel about the spazzy little weirdo you plan on spending the rest of your life with, positive or negative?"
"Positive, most days," I think I got it. And I'm concerned about the life that spazzy little weirdo lived before me, "Ok. I see what you're getting at."
"Alright then," Vanderwood kissed the top of my head, "Now, where are you two headed off to?"
"We got wedding stuff to take care of," Seven reported, "Chances are, we'll be gone all day."
"Yikes," Vanderwood cringed, "Hard pass. You kids have fun. Be home before dinner."
"Why?" I asked, "We'll probably just get something while we're out."
"No," Vanderwood assured me, "Trust me, MC. Be home before dinner. Those are orders that come from…Well…I'm not normally scared of people. Nine times out of ten, people are scared of me. But this one has made me get more tetanus shots than anyone I've ever met and…"
"Got it," I let it go, "Saeran's making a nice dinner and may kill us all if we ruin our appetite."
"Bingo."
"Fine," I grabbed my shoes, "We'll be back before dinner. Seven? Shall we?"
"TO THE SEVENMOBILE!"