Hercules' jaw dropped all the way to the floor. Those horrific bruises pocking her tanned skin was because of him? "What?!" was all he could say.
Meg rolled her eyes. It starts… her hubby could be a bit of a drama king. "I told you it was no big deal."
"I did this?"
"You did."
"I'm sorry, babe. How'd I do that to you?"
"I got it when we were playfighting yesterday," Meg told him. "You know how we wrestle around sometimes? I got this one - " she pointed to the bruise on her shoulder - "when you threw me on the bed, this one - " she pointed to the sand dollar bruise in the crook of her arm - "when we were playing Hot Hands and you missed… you missed by a longshot… and this one - " she lifted her dress, revealing a gnarly red hematoma on her thigh.
"Whoa, what?" Hercules shrieked. "I didn't even know about that one!"
"Yeah," Meg said. "From playfighting. Don't worry about it though, hon, I'll put some ice on it." She padded to the kitchen in her bare feet. "I don't want people coming over thinking you beat me up… "
"Don't say that." Hercules' heart started beating wildly in his chest. The party! He'd been so focused on tending to his wounded wife that he'd completely forgotten! "Here, let me do that… "
After icing her up on the sofa and kissing her bruises and apologizing profusely, Hercules threw a blanket over her. Meg laughed. "Herc, is that really necessary?"
"I don't want anyone getting the wrong idea."
"What? That you beat me up?"
"Yes, and stop saying that!"
Meg lifted a pencil thin eyebrow. "Didn't you?"
"Now cut that out!"
"I'm just kidding, darling. I know you would never do that."
This seemed to relax Hercules, but not by much. "I don't want people thinking you're married to some kind of monster… "
"Which one? Hellhounds or the Hydra?"
"You think it's funny - "
"'Knock knock.'" Meg made the big bruise talk to the little bruise. "'Who's there?' 'My husband beats me.' 'That's the funniest joke I've ever heard!'"
"It's not a joke," Hercules lamented, now stressed out that there was a shindig happening in a few minutes and his wife was sitting there looking like she'd just gotten out of the Peloponnesian War.
And everyone knew Meg didn't have a job and didn't really exert any kind of energy during the day, so where did that leave things?
"Can you go like… " He rubbed the back of his neck. "I dunno. Can you go… put on something else?"
Meg glanced down at her lavender strapped dress. "I've had this on every day of my life."
"Yeah… "
"Fact, I had this on this the day you met me."
"Yeah."
"You want to hide my bruises," Meg said, grinning impishly, and Hercules felt like he'd been punched in the gut. But she twined her fingers with his. "That would be a no, good sir. I love what I have on - bruises and all."
Hercules' face looked tight and worried.
"It's fiiiiine," Meg said. "We'll just explain to everyone that I got them from playfighting. Simple as that. They'll understand. I won't joke about it anymore, I promise?" She pecked him on the lips. "I'm gonna get more glasses."
. . .