Derek was convinced that he could make Casey forget all about the med bay if he tried hard enough. Sure, his body wasn't fully operational, but his mouth and fingers worked just fine.
Although the juxtaposition of his blood-stained hands against her perfect, delicate skin was daunting, she didn't seem to notice it, so he ignored it as best as he could.
"Der," she breathed his name as he trailed kisses down her exposed neck, dipping a bit lower with other plans in mind. "We have to go," she reminded him.
"Mhmm," he murmured, nipping the delicate skin across her collarbone. "In a minute," he promised, wondering how mad she'd be if he left a love bite where everyone could see…
"Now, Venturi," she declared, pushing him back as gently as she could.
Derek sighed, slumping back into his seat defeated. If Casey's lips were anything to go off, his mouth was probably just as swollen or worse. Good. The sight of her, disheveled and devoured shouldn't make him so smug, but it did. He loved being the reason; her reason.
"Don't pout," she teased, raising a soft hand to cup his jaw; her thumb tracing his bottom lip. She told him they had to stop, but she touched him in a way that made him want to beg for more.
"I'm not," he murmured, figuring he was probably pouting.
It wasn't his fault. She was teasing and all he wanted was to melt into her and just… forget. Forget about the violence, about the dead bodies, the pain, the blaring alarm in the background, his guards yelling, making calls, heavy boots running through the hallways. The sounds were so loud, overstimulating him, but it was over, and she was his remedy.
"Med bay. Debrief. Shower," she reminded him of the plan once more, her tone leaving no room for argument.
His eyebrow arched at the idea of a shower. A nice warm shower to ease his aching body…With the lights off, and a glow of a few candles to relax him. And the most important part, a wet, soft Casey, running a soapy cloth down his body. Yeah, that would fix him, he decided.
"Only if the doc clears it," she clarified with her little smirk as if she could see where his thoughts had led him. But she didn't give him any time to argue, getting to her feet, pulling down the hem of the dress that had found itself very high up her thighs, courtesy of his very greedy hands.
"Okay," he sighed. "Let's get this over with," he groaned, getting to his feet.
It was only then, when his post-Casey haze had started to fade that he remembered that he had most likely dislocated his knee earlier when he fell. That was going to keep him away from some of the shower fantasies he had painted for them. Then again, he did have a bench in the shower, that could work. But he had an inkling they would put him on bed rest too. There was also a possibility of a few broken ribs… Fuck. There went all his fun. Not that he wouldn't simply ignore the pain, but he was sure someone wouldn't let him.
Casey wrapped an arm around his back and together they walked to the med bay. The long hallways of the estate suddenly felt endless as they made their way down. Derek thought about calling for help, but admittedly, his ego was getting in the way. He didn't want them to see him hurt, or weak. He had gone through worse and made it through more than a few long hallways. He knew he'd get there eventually with her at his side.
Vaguely, he noticed how empty and relatively blood-free the path had been. It seemed like Sam had gotten the clean-up crew assembled quickly as no bodies littered the hallways. He wasn't even sure Casey would have noticed, she was so focused on him, but still, he was glad she didn't have to see it. Sam knew. Sam always knew.
She kept looking up at him every few seconds looking for signs that they had to stop and take a break, but he was fine. He was used to pain, ignoring it when he needed to. And yet, it was nice to feel so seen, to be taken care of by her was an honor he wasn't sure he deserved. But selfishly, after the night's events, he decided he didn't care.
"You know, you're kind of obsessed with me," he teased when he caught her staring up at him, again.
Casey rolled her eyes in response. "You wish," she scoffed. "I'm just biding my time before I take over," she winked playfully.
And the thing was, Derek believed her. Not that she was planning to take over. But she could. Casey had his entire team wrapped around her pretty manicured fingers and she didn't even know it. They all broke the rules for her. Hell, they would have fought him for the right to end French if they thought they stood a chance against Derek.
But he didn't need to waste another breath on French anymore. Truman French was dead. And just like Derek told Casey, he wished he could have strung it out for longer, but he didn't. He kept it quick and clean. A mercy the French did not deserve. But Derek put his desire to give Casey peace, above all else.
He had given it so much thought, that he daydreamed of what he'd do when he finally got the chance. He had come up with a few fun ways to tutor the man for weeks... He wanted to live up to the Venturi name. To put the fear of god and the devil into Truman French. To watch the man bleed, and beg and lose every ounce of himself spill out, drip by drip. Derek wanted to unleash the monster who dreamed of that moment.
But he didn't. Instead, he had French on his knees, blood dripping down the gash above his right eye, and a black eye curtsey of Derek fist. He was being held up by two Venturi guards, one at each shoulder. Derek took pleasure in bringing his gun up and pressing the barrel between the man's eyes.
"You never deserved her," Derek growled, not letting Truman get a single word in before pulling the trigger.
The bullet between the eyes was a mercy. One only granted to give Casey the peace she desperately needed.
Casey McDonald kept the worst of him at bay. He was her monster, on a pink leash. And because of that, Truman French got off easy.
The Venturi med bay wasn't big. It didn't need to be. It only had four beds, separated by curtains in a simple square room, but it had everything needed, and even an operating room for anything that couldn't wait.
On any given day, there would only be one patient being seen. Normally they were getting a wound checked out, or an x-ray. It was typically due to an injury during sparring or training. Sometimes, if they were out on a job, a few would come back with wounds that needed tending.
Rarely did they need all hands on deck, every bed occupied. But all four beds were taken given the evening events. But he was promised that everyone was stable and that the last bed had his name on it, no matter how much he wanted to fight it.
He groaned, finally lying down which simultaneously felt amazing, and terrible. Casey pulled up a chair, sitting right next to him as if Derek was letting her out of his sight. His slightly fuzzy, possibly concussed, sight. But she seemed to be feeling the same.
Casey wrapped her two hands around one of his, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. He had spent most of the evening eliminating threats from reaching her. He hadn't stopped to think what she was going through, worrying about him. And being cared for like that meant everything to him.
Thankfully, he was assigned to Isabel, or Izzy, his favorite nurse. He liked her because she didn't seem scared of him. Some of his staff was intimidated by him, cowering to his demands, but not Izzy. She ignored his empty threats just like Marti would, with a straight face and blinking stare, tending to him as medically needed, not as he requested.
He was not so secretly a big baby when it came to getting treated. Hence why he avoided it like the plague, but there was no way he was sneaking out of there, not under Casey's watch anyway.
Izzy helped Casey change him out of what remained of his tattered suit and into some clean clothes. Not a hospital gown, he'd never allow that in his med bay, but a loose black t-shirt and briefs so that Izzy could easily treat all his wounds.
After running vitals and sending him off for x-rays, the doctor came in and confirmed he had a dislocated knee, sprained ankle, a few cracked ribs, and a mild concussion, aside from all the lacerations and bruises that scattered his body. Izzy took over, putting him on an IV of all sorts of things. It was a wonderful cocktail of drugs that made everything a bit fuzzy and the stabbing pain a distant memory. Normally he would deny the drugs, he had to be on his guard at all times. But with French taken care of, Sam running point, and Casey's hand in his… he finally felt comfortable enough to accept the help.
"So, how bad is it?" Derek heard himself ask Izzy as she wrapped his sprained ankle with precision.
"You'll be fine," she promised with a soft smile. "Just a few weeks of bed rest and an excellent nurse," she teased looking Casey's way.
Derek hummed in response, letting his eyes flutter close. It had been a long night.
"Well look who's alive," Sam's teasing filled the room.
Derek cracked open his heavy eyes, spotting Sam for the first time since their ruined family dinner.
"He's gonna make it, Iz?" Sam asked from the foot of Derek's bed, turning to look at the nurse with familiarity Derek couldn't place. There was something different about Sam, but Derek wasn't sober enough to tell. But he swore he saw a splash of pink across Izzy's cheeks when he looked her way.
"Seems like it," she answered, finishing up with Derek. "But he won't be useful to you for a few hours," she explained to Sam, pointing at Derek IV's bag of wonders.
Sam sighed heavily, eyeing the nurse with a heavy stare that would normally intimidate anyone. But not her it seemed. The two stared at each other for a second too long, the tension flooding the room was suffocating. Izzy was on the shorter side, over a foot shorter than Sam at the very least. He towered over her. And yet she held her ground, hands on her hips, not backing down.
"Don't make me pull rank, Richards," she spoke, her tone low and deadly, her eyes unblinking. "You're in my domain," she reminded him, giving him a second to counter. But when he didn't, she turned to Derek, nodding, before turning to leave the trio.
Holy shit.
Derek hoped he'd remember the moment when he was a little more sober. He turned to look at Casey who was still staring at Sam like he had three heads. Yeah, he wasn't crazy. Casey saw it too.
Sam, finally coming out of it, moved and turned towards Derek, clearing his throat, as if that hadn't just happened in front of them. "When do you want to debrief?" Sam asked, trying his hardest to be Derek second again, not whoever he was just then.
"Izzy said she'd clear him in about an hour if his vitals held. So, anything after that," Casey explained, taking the lead, which was good because Derek was too confused to form sentences. Shit, an hour may not be enough….
Sam just nodded, turning on his heel and walking straight out of the med bay without a second look.
"Hey. Did you…" Casey asked, not bothering to finish the sentence.
"Oh yeah," Derek whispered, still in shock.
How long had that been going on?
As suspected, he was put on strict bed rest. But at least he would be in his bed, surrounded by the sheets that Casey had picked out, and the smell of her coconut shampoo all over his pillow. All he wanted was to lie down with Casey's head on his chest and the rest of it behind them.
But he couldn't relax yet. He needed to debrief with Sam first.
When they returned to their bedroom, Derek somehow convinced Casey to shower while he talked to Sam. He didn't want her overhearing any of the gory details he would share. Plus, he knew the water could drown out most of his conversation.
Although Casey refused to let him out of her sight, she relented. Their bedroom felt safe enough for her.
As promised, Sam had returned and took detailed notes on his tablet as Derek walked him through the night's events, as much as he could remember through the morphine dripping through his veins.
"Alright. I think that's everything I'm gonna get out of you tonight," Sam said, his lips tipping up into a smile, clicking his tablet off. "I'm gonna pull footage to fill in the missing pieces. I'll have a full report ready in a day or two," Sam finished, looking a little worse for wear.
"No rush," Derek explained. "I'm on vacation, and you're in charge," he declared. "I trust you to do whatever you need to do. Maybe monitor any potential retaliation from his allies?" he offered, rubbing his tired eyes. "But I think they all know better. Especially as the news spreads," he breathed, waving the idea away.
"Got it. Do not disturb till further notice," Sam nodded, turning on his heel.
"Thanks, Sammy…for everything," Derek finally said the words out loud. He owed Sam a life debt for keeping Casey safe and unharmed. No one had gotten anywhere near her, but Derek was grateful anyway. He never stopped to worry about her, not for a second. He knew she was in good hands and he was right.
"I didn't make a single kill tonight," Sam shrugged, brushing off what he had done. "Thanks for finally killing the son of a bitch," he added with a smile.
Yeah, they were a fucked up pair. But it worked.
"Burn him," Derek instructed, almost as an afterthought. He may already be dead, but let the fire melt whatever was left of that pathetic excuse of a man.
"You got it."
"And Sammy," he called out before Sam was out the door. "We gonna talk about it?" Derek asked, a smile pulling at his lips.
"D, and I mean this with all the love I have in my heart… " Sam trailed off, turning to look at his best friend, "Fuck. Off." And with that, Sam was gone.
Derek laughed or tried to, till he remembered about his broken ribs, so his laugh quickly turned into a groan instead. Fuck .
Derek hobbled his way into their bathroom forgetting about his crutches altogether. He took a seat at Casey vanity, falling into it with a grunt.
"Case," he groaned. "Help ." Yeah. He was being a baby. But he was tired and hurting. And disgusting. He was going to get a sponge bath because Izzy gave strict instructions which meant no showers.
"I've got you," she promised, stepping out of a deliciously steamy shower of her own. She didn't have any restrictions, and he was thankful for it. He watched as she dried herself off with a towel. He was sure he could watch her do just about anything, and he'd enjoy it.
"Give me two minutes," she told him, wrapping her wet hair up in a towel.
Derek would give her all the time in the world. He watched her as she moved around their bathroom, slipping into a fluffy robe with her initials on it that he had gotten her. Watching her do skin care, performing such a simple everyday task, even rushed, felt so damn intimate. And that intimacy was giving him ideas.
"The things I want to do to you…" he murmured. Because even in a robe, covered from neck to ankle, it worked. Anything she did, worked for him.
She smiled in response, finishing her skincare routine. "Well, we won't be doing any of those things for a long while," she reminded him, running a washcloth under warm water.
Between the concussion and his injuries, there wasn't much he was allowed to do. Not that he wouldn't try anyway. But he had a feeling Nurse Casey would be even more strict than Izzy.
"But, you can tell me all about it. You know… if it helps," she teased, standing between his legs. Derek's hands came up, slipping under her robe, fingertips brushing across her bare thighs. She was just so fucking soft. Somehow she seemed unaffected by him, running a soapy washcloth across his cheek to get some of the dried blood off, being careful around his bruised eye.
Derek hummed in response, his eyes fluttering closed. Her touch was gentle across his battered skin. He felt safe, warm and at home with her.
Eventually, he would tell her exactly what he wanted to do to her. He would paint her the best picture with many descriptions and she would have no choice but to bend the rules and give in, just a little.
But first, he needed a nap.