( she's distinctly not looking at his face, almost determinedly so. despite the fact he can't actually look her in the eye even if she did. her touch is nearly as cold as his skin, and yet every spot she grazes him seems to have a ghost of her left behind, lingering. it'd be easy to let his mind wander to a different time, when this sort of thing was easy between them. when she picked off his clothes with a laugh and he distracted her with kisses, touches, anything he could land if she'd let him.
he grimaces at the warmth of the memory, his head going back to a place that is so far from the moment they're in. he steps away from her when the sodden fabric falls open, rubbing a hand over his useless eyes. he's already heading to the bathroom as directed, and with his back mostly to her Matt gingerly shrugs off the shirt, one side at a time. if it hurts (it does, of course it does), the only hint at it is in an expression she can't see. )
There's a bureau next to my bed. ( it has any linens he's managed to scrounge up — blankets, sheets, towels. the painkillers he keeps in the bathroom with all the other first aid supplies, but when Elektra returns she'll find the kit outside the door waiting for her, the bottle settled on top.
he's not long in the shower. she's right that he doesn't care much about getting particularly clean, just about bringing some kind of warmth to his skin. it helps, and it is a slight comfort on his shoulder. unfortunately he can't stay under the water forever, and when he turns off the spray the cold clings to his skin all over again. dressing is the only thing that will help with that, and he can't get to his clothes until he leaves the bathroom. he comes out with only a towel but she's seen far worse than his chest before, he's too tired to be precious about nudity. ) Your turn, ( he says, not calls. he knows she's close. )
no subject
he grimaces at the warmth of the memory, his head going back to a place that is so far from the moment they're in. he steps away from her when the sodden fabric falls open, rubbing a hand over his useless eyes. he's already heading to the bathroom as directed, and with his back mostly to her Matt gingerly shrugs off the shirt, one side at a time. if it hurts (it does, of course it does), the only hint at it is in an expression she can't see. )
There's a bureau next to my bed. ( it has any linens he's managed to scrounge up — blankets, sheets, towels. the painkillers he keeps in the bathroom with all the other first aid supplies, but when Elektra returns she'll find the kit outside the door waiting for her, the bottle settled on top.
he's not long in the shower. she's right that he doesn't care much about getting particularly clean, just about bringing some kind of warmth to his skin. it helps, and it is a slight comfort on his shoulder. unfortunately he can't stay under the water forever, and when he turns off the spray the cold clings to his skin all over again. dressing is the only thing that will help with that, and he can't get to his clothes until he leaves the bathroom. he comes out with only a towel but she's seen far worse than his chest before, he's too tired to be precious about nudity. ) Your turn, ( he says, not calls. he knows she's close. )