This chapter is dedicated to StoryCurrentlyUntitled, because it happens to be her motherhumping BIRTHDAY! Huzzah! :D So anyway, hope you enjoy best friend, and Happy Birthday!
[sorry if it's a little off. I've been doing a lot of Psych fan-fic reading, and not enough writing, so I'm sorta out of my zone. But I think it turned out okay.]
The ride into town was a long and slow one, and the warmth radiating from the heater only added to Mary's exhaustion. More than once Marshall reached back to rouse her, saying that until he was sure that she didn't have hypothermia, she couldn't sleep. She grumbled and whined, but did her best to do as he said.
She wasn't sure, but she thought she heard him mutter "That's my girl.", and smiled sleepily to herself.
After what felt like forever multiplied by infinity, she started to notice familiar sights like buildings and houses.
Awake enough to be a smartass, Mary drawled "Are we there yet?"
Marshall glanced back at her, rolled his eyes and replied "No. But not much longer, I promise." He had a small smile on his face as he turned away. She just loved how he would always pretend to be annoyed with her but could never keep up the ruse.
She had started to doze off again when suddenly a gust of cold air hit her face. She opened her eyes to see that Marshall was opening the door to let her out. She groaned, and moved to get out, sore limbs moving slowly. But before she could even get a foot out the door, Marshall had swooped in and picked her up bridal style, shutting the door with his shoulder.
Under normal circumstances, Mary would've hit him and demanded to be let down. But now she just held on to him and buried her face in his shirt. Wow, he smells nice…
She didn't pay much attention to where they were going or what words were said, she was more focused on staying awake. No matter how comfortable she was and how good he smelled, she didn't want to pass out in Marshall's arms. How un-Mary would that be?
Just when she was lucid enough to wonder about where they were, where Rudy was, and more importantly sleeping arrangements, Marshall was setting her down gently. She opened her eyes and looked around at the motel room. It was relatively small, but nice. And the bed felt amazing. Then again, at that moment to Mary the floor would feel like sleeping on clouds.
She started to cuddle into the mattress, definitely ready for a nap, but Marshall shook her gently, yet again denying her access to dream-land, and said "Hey Mare, stay awake. Look at me."
She wordlessly did as she was told, and spent the next few minutes responding at the right moments as Marshall tested her to see is she really did have hypothermia or not. How the hell he could tell for sure she didn't know. It was just another twist to the mystery that was Marshall.
Eventually he seemed satisfied that she was alright, and muttered "I'm gonna start up a shower for you. You'll be fine, but you still need to warm up."
He left, and Mary slowly got up, intent on reaching the bathroom herself. She didn't want him to come back in, thinking he had to carry her again. She had some of her pride left, and she could walk herself to the bathroom, damn it.
She bumped into him in the doorway, and he laughed. "I just knew you wouldn't let me carry you again. Get in there while it's hot, and try to save me some water, okay?"
She nodded and gave him a quick hug, grateful for all that he had and was still doing, even if her pride was a wee bit bruised. He still felt cold to the touch, she noticed, with more than a little concern.
Then she pushed him out of the bathroom and shut the door. The idea of a hot shower was practically orgasmic, and she refused to wait any longer.
***
She cut her shower shorter than she would have liked, making sure Marshall had plenty of hot water. She may have been the one who involuntarily took an ice bath in a snowstorm, but he had gone walking in the middle of that same storm in clothes that he had worn many times before in over 90 degree weather. How he made it out of there without becoming an icicle, she had no idea.
When she stepped out of the shower, she shivered at the cool air and sighed. Am I ever gonna thaw out? Christ…
She threw on a robe that was hanging conveniently on the door, and quickly towel-dried her hair. When she was satisfied that she was dry enough, she left the bathroom, robe-clad and carrying her (well, more like Marshall and Rudy's) clothes.
Marshall was digging through a duffel bag on the bed, muttering to himself. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately.
She got right behind him and said "Shower's all yours, buddy.", making him jump.
He turned to look at her, surprised. "That was fast."
She merely shrugged and replied "I saved you water."
"Thanks. Alright, I'm trying to find you some clothes from the emergency overnight bag, but since you never really made any contributions when I came up with the brilliant concept, they're all sorta my clothes." Marshall said, looking a little sheepish.
Mary reached into the bag and grabbed a simple t-shirt. "No problem. I'll stick with the sweatpants and this."
Marshall looked almost as if he would blush for a moment as he asked "What about, uhm…" trailing off, but Mary knew what he meant.
"Huh. I'm not really in the mood to go commando. I don't suppose you have some boxers in there?" she suggested.
He dug through the bag again, and after a moment let out a triumphant "Aha!" He handed her the boxers, which were decorated with, dare she believe it, trains, and looked pleased with himself.
"What happened to airplanes?" she asked, holding up the train-print boxers.
"Well, I just couldn't help myself. The whole 'planes and trains' deal just struck me as pure genius. You know how I love coincidental rhymes. I know, I know. I'm a freak. But I admit it, and accept it."
"Hate to break it to you partner, but in your serious case, admitting it won't help you on the road to recovery." She couldn't hide the smirk, though she tried to be serious, really she did.
He sighed in resignation. "I know... Oh well. Shower time!" He grabbed some clothes for himself and ran for the bathroom while Mary watched, laughing at his retreating back.
He was such a dork.
When the bathroom door was shut and the sound of water running hit her ears, she deemed it safe to change. She slipped Marshall's shirt over her head and noticed with a small smile that it smelled faintly of him.
She had never really paid much attention to the way a guy smelled until Marshall. Sure, she might notice that they were wearing a nice cologne, or too much, but with Marshall it was different. He didn't wear cologne. At least not often. And when he did it was subtle, not overpowering. The rest of the time he just smelled like… well, Marshall.
And why was she focusing on that when she should be getting dressed?
She shook her head and finished dressing. For a long moment she stared at Marshall's jacket, wondering how to go about talking to him about the damned note. What was she even supposed to say, anyway? "Hey, I found that note that I told you to never speak of. Penny for your thoughts on it?"
She sighed, and took the note back out it's pocket. She stared at it, thinking hard. She had never been the kind of person to need to resort to conversation starters on anything. And she shouldn't have to, not with Marshall. They were partners, best friends. They could talk about anything. But this was a more personal topic than had ever risen between them.
Apparently she stood there thinking longer than she thought, because the door to the bathroom suddenly opened.
Mary panicked, and, unsure of what else to do, slipped the note under a pillow on the bed.
Christ, what was wrong with her? How could she expect to talk to him about it (and what was there to even talk about?) if she was scared of just the idea of being found with the note?
She sighed. This was going to be a long night.
There ya go, I hope it didn't suck horrendously. Once again, I have no idea when the next chapter will be. This story is sort of a "keeps getting longer, though I want to end it soon" thing. Anyway, hope you liked!