A/N: Took some liberties here, because as far as I can tell, they don't actually get injured at the end of the first film.
"Bob."
"I'm fine."
"Bob."
"I said, I'm fine. Can we just go to sleep?"
Helen glares at her husband from where she stands at the side of the motel bed. Between defeating Syndrome and the Omnidroid, not to mention their house getting destroyed by an exploding jet, it's safe to say that she would like nothing more than to put the whole day behind her, too. But there is business to attend to.
He'd hid it well while they were changing out of their suits, squaring away the motel room and putting the kids to bed, but she recognized the trademark look of pain dancing across his face when he thought she wasn't looking. Now, after a quick inspection, there's no way around it: Bob has a dislocated shoulder, and he can't exactly stroll over to the nearest hospital.
"Honey," he tries again.
Helen gives him another once-over, pursing her lips. "You know you have to let me," she sighs.
Bob scowls at her, but the battle is lost.
Helen carefully peels the shirt off of his broad shoulders, careful not to hurt him further. She then extends her arms to wrap around his shoulder like a roll of gauze in order to get a proper grip. Once her limbs are bound in place, she gives a quick jerk, popping his shoulder right into place with a loud crack.
Most people wouldn't be able to pull off such a feat, but his wife has moves that most people could only dream of. Now, he thanks his lucky stars, and not for the first time.
Bob lets out a breath, releases the pillow he had clung to, and clutches his shoulder. Good as new.
"You did great today," he tells her after a beat. But she avoids his eyes, busying herself with the first aid kit on the nightstand.
He frowns, because this is very different than the show of confidence she had displayed right before they'd leapt into battle.
"What's the matter?" he asks, knowing the answer as soon as the words are out of his mouth.
"The kids, Bob," she sighs, fiddling with a button on her pajama shirt. "Today was really too close for my liking. I don't think we can keep doing this."
"It's...still illegal. We probably don't have to," he offers.
"Like that stopped you before," she snorts.
Bob thinks for a moment. How could they let their children be themselves, while protecting them from, oh, jail?
"We could set rules for them!" he booms. "You know, boundaries. No hero work after dark."
Helen shakes her head. "You know that doesn't make sense," she says with an apologetic smile. "Look, we'll talk about it later. I need to finish up here."
She isn't done yet, because Bob also has a nasty laceration on his right arm, when the Omnidroid managed to get him between his glove and his sleeve.
"I have to stitch it," Helen says, and Bob gets the feeling that she's answering some other thought in her head.
She takes a few steps closer to inspect the wound. It isn't that bad, but it's pretty deep and Bob knows she's right. She grabs the proper supplies from the kit, but he's not thrilled that she's curtailing their conversation. He makes a mental note to bring it up again the next day.
"Lie down," she commands, moving to rub some disinfectant over the wound after he scoots down on the bed. "This might hu-"
"-I know, it's alright, do what you have to." Bob holds in a groan as she treats the wound, thinking that it didn't used to hurt this much in the old days. Helen's hands are steady and confident; she's done this a dozen times and though it's been a while, it's also like no time as passed at all.
"Done," she finally announces, inspecting her handiwork.
"Thank you," he grumbles. Her pleased smile makes his heart squeeze. She wraps her arms around his torso and hugs him carefully, and he leans his chin on her auburn hair. They stay like that silently for a few moments until she yawns audibly. It's been a tough day for the both of them.
Carefully, she lies down next to him. They lock eyes for a little while, wordlessly communicating until her eyes drift closed. Bob watches as she falls into a heavy sleep, exhausted from the day's events. She looks much younger without the crease of worry in her face.
For the first time in a while, he feels tired and safe enough to sleep. His body sags, eyes drifting closed as he follows his wife into slumber.
