Disclaimer—see Chapter one
A/N: This is a transition chapter of sorts, so sorry it's kind of boring! More happening soon, I promise! Chapter eight is almost complete and will be posted in a few days, and it will begin to address what some of you have been asking for…but just a hint…not all can be revealed until the very end! I only hope you won't be disappointed in the end! It's shaping up to be approximately 12-14 chapters total. Thanks again for your patience and reviews—I'm loving it!! (I am a total review junkie!!) Please, please, please keep on reviewing!!
House of Dreams—chapter seven
Shalimar gritted her teeth as she yanked a can of soup from the cupboard and slammed the door shut. She had started out with good intentions, patiently nursing Brennan through the worst of his misery, but patience had never been the feral's strongpoint, and now she had just about had it.
"If he yells my name one more time," she muttered under breath, leaving the threat unfinished as she purposely banged a pan loudly against the stove. She slammed the can of soup against the countertop and wrenched the lid off, dumping the congealed matter into the pan and adding water.
"Shalimar," Brennan's voice mewed from the other room. "Shal," he called again when she didn't appear.
"What?" she stuck her head through the kitchen door.
"I'm hungry," he whined.
She fixed him with a pointed look. "What do you think I've been doing in here," she intoned sarcastically. Her head disappeared back behind the door.
"Shal—" she heard him whine again.
"That's it!" she fumed, reaching into the cupboard for the hottest seasonings possible. Her eyes lit up at what she found, and she smiled as she began dumping it all into the boiling pan.
Brennan grinned as he listened to the banging that continued in the kitchen for a few more minutes. As miserable as he had been feeling the past few days, he had her attention, and that made it all worthwhile. Even though he knew better, he couldn't help but take full advantage of the situation. The poison ivy was still plainly visible in long red streaks down his face and neck, but the goopy baking soda mixture had done its job, and the blisters and welts were finally beginning to heal.
"Unfortunately though, this itch is as strong as ever," he grimaced, scratching wildly at the persistent bumps on his neck.
"Stop scratching!" Shalimar commanded from the kitchen.
Brennan rolled his eyes. "Damn feral hearing," he grumbled. He couldn't even get in a good scratching without getting nagged.
"I heard that," she yelled back.
He shook his head at her, and then sniffed the air, trying to get a whiff of what she was cooking. "Humm, canned soup, again," his face fell in disappointment. Shalimar made a great nurse, but a lousy cook. He just might starve to death while waiting to heal. Shalimar walked back through the kitchen door in time to catch his expression.
"You could just make it yourself, you know," she exasperated.
"I know," Brennan agreed with small smile, "I just like watching to see what you'll ruin next," he teased, pushing himself to his feet to peer into the two steaming bowls Shalimar carried with her.
She glared at him before setting the bowls down on the coffee table. Brennan turned around and went into the kitchen to bring out two glasses of milk she had poured already.
"There, I helped," he announced, plopping back onto the couch and cautiously poking at the soup with the spoon, while eyeing Shalimar apprehensively. Her eyes were gleaming with mischief; she was up to something, he could tell. She saw his look and glared again, crossing her arms and tapping her toe, eyebrows raised. He gave up trying to figure her out and shoveled a large spoonful into his mouth, instantly regretting it as his eyes watered, and he began to choke on the burning feeling running down his throat. He coughed deeply, gasping for breath and waving his hands in front of his face.
"Don't you like it?" Shalimar stared into her bowl in pretend dismay. "I worked so hard, making this just for you," she wailed.
Brennan couldn't help but smile at her injured look that carried just a hint of danger behind it and decided he better play along. "I, ah, I love it," he heartily rasped between coughs.
"Well," she gave in with a satisfied smile, "ok."
There was a long pause. Brennan swallowed nervously as Shalimar look on with expectation. His eyes darted back and forth between her and the soup, and then he slowly reached for the spoon and dipped it in the seething broth. Shalimar leaned forward, eyes slightly widening as Brennan bravely took a second bite. He quickly followed it by gulping down his glass of milk, tears pooling up and running down his face, mingling with the half-healed scabs. Shalimar's heart swelled at the pathetic sight he made as he ate the stuff just for her. She had never been more attracted to him.
Just as his hand was shakily raising another spoonful up to his mouth, she broke down, leaned forward, and stilled his hand with hers. "It's ok, Brennan," she looked at him with admiration.
"Oh thank God," Brennan exclaimed, jumping up and running to the kitchen. Shalimar got up and followed, watching as he gulped down water like a man deprived.
Brennan finally finished all the water and leaned forward against the counter, gasping for breath for several long moments. He stiffened in surprise when he suddenly felt two small arms wrap themselves around his waist and her face press between his shoulder blades.
"Thank you,' she whispered.
Just as suddenly, her arms were gone again. He immediately missed the sense of contact with her. She started to walk out of the kitchen, but Brennan's voice stopped her.
"Shal," he pleaded, "please don't make me eat anymore."
She let out a surprised laugh, her eyes dancing at him before turning and walking the rest of the way out of the kitchen. Her voice floated out from behind her, "I think I'll order some Chinese food."
Brennan sagged against the counter in relief, absentmindedly scratching his cheek.
"But stop scratching!" she yelled back over her shoulder. Brennan shook his head in amused resignation. Life with Shalimar was never boring, that was for sure.
The next morning, the persistent chirp of Shalimar's comlink finally broke through her hazy dreams. She groaned as she rolled over, annoyed by the early morning wake-up call.
"What?" she snapped.
"Good morning to you too," Lexa's voice rang through.
Shalimar stiffened at the sound of her voice, fighting the emotions that hit her in a heated rush. She didn't answer.
After a moment, Lexa continued, "I just wanted to check in with you guys, see if you've found anything else yet."
Shalimar sighed, "Not too much," she reluctantly answered. "We've been a bit distracted the past few days with Brennan's rash."
"Ah, more than I wanted to know," Lexa sarcastically returned.
"Poison Ivy," Shalimar snapped back, cutting the connection. Her ring buzzed again almost immediately, but she ignored it, rolling over and trying to get back to sleep. The reprieve was short-lived however as Brennan came padding into the room a few minutes later.
"I don't think so, Jess," she heard him whisper. "Have you ever tried waking her up before?" She smiled into her pillow.
"Shal," Brennan whispered, leaning over her. He waited for a beat to see if she responded, and then pulled the covers further up her body, patting her gently on the shoulder before turning around.
"Sorry, Jess, no luck," she heard him say as he left the room. She snuggled back down, just drifting off to sleep when she slowly became aware of a peculiar feeling. "Something doesn't feel right," she thought to herself in confusion. She sighed and pushed herself to her feet, stumbling to the bathroom across the hall. She flicked on the lights and squinted at the sudden brightness, trying to take stock of her body. She stood thinking for a moment, absently rubbing her mouth, when she had a sudden awareness of her action and scrambled to the mirror.
"Oh crap," she stared at her reflection. Tousled blonde hair fell wildly over her tiny shoulders and tired eyes stared back at her, but what held her attention was her mouth, or rather the faint red rash beginning to form around it.
"Brennan!" she hollered, "Brennnan!"
He arrived faster than she thought he could, huffing as he ran right past her and into the bedroom.
"Shal?" he yelled, looking wildly around the room, "Where are you?"
She shook her head, "Right behind you."
He whirled around to face her. "What's wrong, you scared me to death," he lectured, hand on his chest as he started towards her.
"Look!" she wailed, pointing to her mouth.
"I don't get it," he started as he walked closer, "what's the big deal about—oh," he stopped mid-sentence, pressing his lips together to suppress the urge to smile.
She glared at him for a moment, the raised her hand to her mouth, "Hey, Jess!" She called.
Jesse's voice greeted her a second later. "Hey, sleeping beauty awakes," he joked.
"Shut up," she grumped at him. "I need to know something."
"What's up," he promptly asked.
"I look like I'm suddenly getting a rash on my face, how's that possible?" she pleaded, hoping he would tell her it was something else.
"Actually, it's very possible," Jesse came back. "Poison ivy can sometimes take up to five days to show up, it all depends on a person's exposure and allergic reaction."
"You too, huh?" Lexa's voice suddenly joined in the conversation.
Shalimar narrowed her eyes and glared at Brennan.
"What did I do?" he raised his hands in self-defense.
"Nothing," she snapped at him.
"So where's it at?" Jesse jumped back into the conversation.
"All around my mouth," she pouted.
"Humm, must have been from when you kissed me," Brennan smirked at her.
"What?" Lexa asked. "What's this about?"
"Nothing," Shalimar's voice dared Brennan to continue.
"Now, you can't say something like that and not tell us the rest," Jesse started in.
"Bye, Jess," Shalimar interrupted him and broke the connection as she stared back at Brennan, shaking her head in dismay.
"You said that on purpose, didn't you," she accused.
"What?" Brennan innocently shrugged.
"Come on admit it," Shalimar couldn't help but needle him.
"I admit nothing," Brennan retorted even as mouth twitched as he tried in vain to hide his smile.
"Fine pair we make," Brennan commented a moment later, waving his hand to indicate their matching rashes. Shalimar smacked him on the arm as she walked past him back into the bedroom and pulled open her dresser drawer to gather some clothes.
"I am going to take a shower," she stated, "and then it's your turn to wait on me hand and foot," she instructed with a cheeky grin.
"Oh no," Brennan shook his head. "That little rash is still nothing compared to what I got," he argued, "and besides, it's your fault."
Shalimar raised her eyebrows.
"You're the one that grabbed me and kissed me," he reminded, with a smug grin of his own.
"Ooh," she groaned exasperatedly, "I was covering for us." She marched past him and back into the bathroom. "You're the one stupid enough to sit in the bush in the first place," she shot back, slamming the door in his face.
He waited outside the door to see if she would come back out, but soon heard the shower turn on. Giving up, he wandered away, still unable to control the grin that was plastered across his face.
A few days later however, Brennan had trouble remembering what had been worth smiling about as he lay on the couch, staring nervously up at the ceiling. The past few days had been a nice reprieve, despite the horribly annoying and painful poison ivy that had struck them both. But now that he was able to think beyond the burning welts that had stolen much of his focus, he wanted to go back and finish the conversation he and Shalimar had started before all the interruptions. He just didn't know how to go about broaching the subject with her without destroying the tentative truce they seemed to have established lately. Shalimar on the other hand, seemed to have no such compunction; she seemed perfectly willing to go on ignoring the entire matter altogether. He took a deep breath and blew it out in a loud sigh as he pushed himself to his feet and walked over to the bedroom where Shalimar was hiding at the moment. He hesitated, and then lifted his hand to rap on the closed door. It was now or never.