DeClan Asher Quinn

Fucking Out of Here.....

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“Shut. Up. You do not. How the hell don’t you fall? Aren’t you afraid you’re going to fall?”

 

He blinked thoughtfully before shrugging and shaking his head.

 

No…

 

It was very matter of fact. He never had fear when he climbed. Only freedom. If he fell and died so be it, but it was a thought that didn’t taint with fear. Head tilted, ears dipping slightly as he studied the wide-eyed expression she was languishing on him. Clearly his reaction wasn’t what she would call…normal.

 

“Could never do that in a million years, climbing I mean. My feet are on the ground... or at the very least something solid.”

 

A hint of smirk danced over his lips.

 

Doesn’t get much more solid than the rock edifice of a mountain.

 

He smiled with her regarding his experience with the swordfish.  Even he had to admit it was funny that he had been the only doctor around to treat himself.  Trying to explain in his very broken Bantu Swahili what to do to the local with him had been a complete comedy of errors. He had asked for water and somehow got a goat… he had asked for rags and somehow got a stick. He was lucky he hadn't bled to death on the spot.

 

Eyes watched the move of sleeve. The telltale mark of a burn, doctor's eyes reading it easily.  Likely from an oven, he had seen a lot of those in his day.

 

“Taking a pizza out of the oven while I was naked.”

 

Bingo.  However to manage to get a second burn across her navel was….. novel. He wasn’t really sure how one managed to get that one when pulling something out of the oven, even naked. 

 

“Ruined the pizza when I dropped it. Figured after that I needed to learn to cook instead of forgetting about frozen stuff and setting off fire alarms. The naked part is another story altogether”

 

Odd. It was the last part he was actually interested in but was denied the story. Naked came up a lot in their conversation. The very thought made elongated ears blush. He hadn't thought of naked skin as more than something to operate on in over eight years. And he could honestly tell himself the type of naked he was thinking of at the moment was most definitely not clinical in nature. Her surly smile was doing nothing to de-crimsonify his elongated appendages.

 

As she walked to the kitchenette to rinse her bowl he took a moment to compose himself, sipping from the newly filled mug as he glanced at the bowl he had set aside. He hadn't eaten enough…. per usual. But as he watched her from the corner of his gaze, he was frankly more distracted by  her licking the spoon than his own food.

 

"C'mon Doc,what else ya got? If you drop your pants and show me one on your ass I'm gonna die."

 

Brow raised before a mischievous smirk lit the corner of his lips. Hand scratching at the back of his neck.

 

The scar on my ass will just need to stay a mystery for now. Lets just say me and a painted wolf had a disagreement.

 

He had all kinds of fun injuries while working in Africa.

 

"Better take care of that on your cheek though, might scar,"

 

Blink was clearly not comprehending her comment as his hand lifted to touch the wrong cheek, rubbing over the faint scruff before checking the other cheek, muscle down to the jaw flinching when he did. Oh… the cable had hit him in the storm. He had completely forgotten about it. Pulling his hand away there was no blood, just the raised welt there. Shrug was absent minded.

 

Eh…. hardly serious…. besides… supposedly ladies like scars or something like that right?

 

Brow lifted as she confessed her powers might reach into the realm of healing. She wanted him to be… a guinea pig? Healers. There were lots of them now. Time would come when the one thing he was good at would be obsolete. Then what? He would have no purpose.

 

It was an ugly and sobering thought that drew the mug up for a complete draining.

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No…

 

She had nothing to say, merely stare.  Her mouth opened a few times to make a comment, but closed again when she couldn’t make it form into a coherent sentence. 

 

Doesn’t get much more solid than the rock edifice of a mountain.

 

“So is the ground below it,” her words were articulate, suspicious eyes still trying to comprehend why exactly he’d want to be on a sheer vertical rock.

 

Then it was her turn.  Smirk was quick at the blush of ears.  Bully for her.  Ginger three, doc zero… eyes narrowing as the expression on his face that came after was anything but embarrassed.  Maybe two and a half, doc point five?  She’d give anything to find out what he was thinking.  Most of the time he was a completely blank slate, now there was an easy bubbling behind the façade that was never there.  She settled back in on the couch, leaning on the arm and both hands on the mug to nurse the swanky booze like hot chocolate.  He had her undivided attention, toes wiggling a moment.

 

The scar on my ass will just need to stay a mystery for now. Lets just say me and a painted wolf had a disagreement.

 

The brilliant laugh was immediate, a small pillow tossed at him for emphasis.

 

“Not fair, I call bullshit!” she quipped, sipping from the mug, eyes over it daring him.  He seemed confused for a moment about her healing comment.  After all the hell they’d gone through less than a week ago, it did bother her to see an injury of any kind.  Pure luck or something any of them had gotten out alive.

 

Eh…. hardly serious…. besides… supposedly ladies like scars or something like that right?

 

She noted the complete drain of his drink after the almost disbelieving quirk he’d given her.

 

“Depends where the scars are...  No really, about the healing thing,” she pursed her lips, brow coming down.  “I brought your fever down in the hospital.  You probably don’t remember.  Not entirely sure exactly what it is... some sort of weird current, electrical... never mind,” voice was quiet, fingers tapping on her mug, expression perking back up.  “Okay, if I can’t see the ass then I get the last one.”

 

Was she goading him a bit?  Yessss?  Smirk was mischievous.  She leaned up on her knees and lifted her shirt to show an almost identical stomach scar on the opposite side of her pizza burn.

 

“Guess.  For the win.  Winner gets... the rest of the bottle, and the bed.”

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Arm lifted to block the hurled "weapon" as her laugher brightened the entire loft. It was a sound he had not really let himself hear in a very long time. It drew a rare and easy full smile to his lips. Ten years of living as a hermit he had forgotten what it was like to be relaxed with another person. In ten years he rarely relaxed, except perhaps when he was alone and four or five bottles deep in his drink and then it was a hazed relaxation.

 

This was clear….vivid.

 

“Not fair, I call bullshit!”

 

Absolutely not bullshit….. hell of a bite on those things.

 

As if the memory lingered his hand rubbed the back of his left hip with a quirked brow.  He was still haunted by the thought of the world moving to magic and abilities for all healing. If it did.. and he had no more worth… would that be the moment he put the bullet in his brain.

 

“Okay, if I can’t see the ass then I get the last one. Guess. For the win. Winner gets... the rest of the bottle, and the bed.”

 

It was without thought that he walked over, mug coming to his lips forgetting it was empty as the free hand reached to run masterful fingers over the scar on her side and stomach, eyes taking a serious and clinical expression as the old wound was studied with the eyes of a surgeon.

 

mmm…..slice is a bit uneven, surgeon getting in in a hurry.

 

Fingers slid along her flesh, widening out from the scar to stretch it horizontally as his head tilted slightly.

 

Based on location and size its either appendix or gall bladder.

 

Hand slid up onto the bottom rib to pull the skin gently upward as head tilted the other way.

 

Decent surgeon does gall bladders through three small punctures which means he was either not decent or it was dire. Not typical of gall bladder so I would have to go with appendix.

 

Her shirt had slid down in her grip, gently blanketing over the top of his fingers and suddenly he was aware his cool fingers were spread over her warm skin and under her shirt. They froze but didn’t pull immediately away. Quiet silver eyes remained fixed on the old scar on her side as the thumb rubbed the lower rib he still held.

 

Breath was deep as he became aware, stepping back and letting his fingers slide from her skin with a faint apologetic smile as he moved to the side of the bed and pulled the door on the floor up once more to get a fresh bottle.

 

He needed another drink….. a big one.

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