WHO: Shiro and Alice WHAT: Shiro and Alice fend off a gremlin WHEN: Like, backdated forever ago WHERE: Out walking around WARNINGS: Violence against gremlins?
The Gremlin should have been easier to take down. To be fair, Shiro wasn’t too concerned about the scratch.
When Shiro had seen the dark flash of motion moving around and toward them, Shiro had powered up his arm without thinking about it. The Gremlin was probably the smallest target he had ever “fought” against. He had aimed and struck out, but at the last moment the Gremlin had leaped past his arm, latched onto his bicep, and swung up to gouge some scratches into the meat at the top of his shoulder.
At that point he had managed to grab the thing with his prosthetic and kill it.
Some part of him felt bad about killing something so small, but regardless of size, it had been dangerous.
…
Alice's reaction had been, similarly, to act on the defensive. When it had come towards Shiro, her hands began moving in coordinated patterns, particles of light flickering between her finger tips. Frantic, and frustrated, her eyes had shot up just in time to see it latch onto Shiro. Seeing this, Alice had let out a noise that began was a scream of fear but then morphed into one of anger. And with it, the light between her fingers stopped flickering, instead illuminating with intensity.
She was able to catch Shiro's movements, seeing him shoot the creature with his prosthetic. It appeared to be dead but the energy Alice had summoned was still very much between his hands. Choosing it was better to be safe than sorry, she unleashed it, lunging the light forward to cast directly over the Gremlin. It may have been dead but she wanted to make sure it remained so. She knew nothing about these creatures, really, other than what others had said. They didn't like light.
And now she saw why.
Making a disgusted face, her hands dropped to her sides, and it was only now that she felt them trembling. Rushing forward, her hand moved to clutch at Shiro's hand. "Are you okay?!" She asked, voice filled with adrenaline and concern, her eyes flickering back occasionally to the melted puddle of green goo.
…
The last thing Shiro had been expecting was the light that Alice shot at the Gremlin. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised. But he had been in the singular state of mind that he entered when he was in a fight, and he had never shared the mindspace with anyone other than the paladins.
He became intensely aware of her again though when she grabbed his hand. The touch was a shock to his system after being so invested in the skirmish.
He belatedly glanced down at where his shirt was a little torn, blood visible underneath. It wasn’t serious though. At worst, it would need a bandaid.
“I’m okay,” Shiro said.
…
Alice looked to the place where the fabric was torn. Seeing the blood herself, her eyebrows came together, and she glanced up at Shiro before shaking her head in disagreement. "You're bleeding," she reminded him. Perhaps it was okay but that didn't mean they shouldn't make certain.
She hadn't released his hand and now she gave it a slight tug. "Let's go make sure," she suggested, motioning her head towards the doorway. She was very, very grateful at the present that this had happened outside of any residence.
And she was hoping no further creatures were inside.
…
Shiro really wasn’t concerned about the scratch. He had been hurt far worse far more times, but he understood that this was more about comforting Alice at this point. It didn’t make sense to argue with her, so he just agreed and then followed her inside.
It was quiet, so that, at least, was a relief.
He sat down and tried to roll up his sleeve so that the scratch was visible. He was hyper aware of the knots of scar tissue where what was left of his arm connected to his prosthetic. And unfortunately, he couldn’t pull the shirt out of the way enough to show the scratches. The collar on his shirt was also too high to tug down. He was likely going to have to take off his shirt to show her the scratches.
The thought made him uncomfortable. He was very careful about the amount of skin he showed at any time. He didn’t train with the other paladins without a shirt on even shorts, and he had maintained that routine even after arriving in sweltering Tumbleweed, Texas. But he knew that if he made an excuse now about not wanting to take off shirt, he was going to have to explain anyway.
So, he ignored the tremor of fear and uncertainty he felt. He was safe, and it was good for him to remember that. He hiked his shirt up and off, terribly aware of the network of scars that crisscrossed over the entirety of his torso.
...
Alice was watching him carefully. As they'd entered the space, she'd kept hold of his hand, and only let it go once he was sitting. He'd need it free in order to properly inspect the area of his shoulder where the Gremlin had latched on. And, watching him now, her frown came back; but not because he was hurt.
Alice was more than aware of how someone looked when they were uncomfortable. She'd had issues with trust. She hadn't let people see her undress or in the nude for most of her life. It'd been a build up to even be comfortable with being nude in front of Quentin. So, she recognized the discomfort, and she was about to speak up, to ask if she should leave, when he pulled his shirt up.
Her frown deepened.
And her eyes were moving from section to section of his upper body. She made note of where his prosthetic connected with his shoulder. She made note of the scars. And she made note of the muscles underneath the scars. She did this all in the span of just a few seconds before she averted her eyes, looking to the floor.
"I..." she began, because she'd been about to offer to vacate while he inspected his own wounds, even though she had wanted to help, but she wasn't sure if she should. "Can I clean it up for you?" She was still looking at the floor.
…
“That’s fine,” Shiro said without looking up at her. He didn’t want to have worry about seeing her reaction or make her worry about having to curb it.
He turned his attention instead to his shoulder, looking at where the Gremlin had caught him. It was bleeding a little sluggishly, but Shiro doubted that it would even scar.
...
"Alright," she said before turning and heading for the bathroom. It only took her a moment to grab what she needed before she was back in the room with him. She came around where Shiro was sitting and stood easily behind him. Uncapping the bottle of peroxide, she dabbed a cottonball gently against the opening and tipped it so it would absorb some of the mixture.
"I didn't know you could do that," she then said, as she moved to place the piece of cotton against the scratch.
...
He settled a little into his skin in the few seconds that she was in the bathroom. He tried to tell himself it wasn’t that big of a deal. He didn’t know if that was true.
He reminded himself, though, that it was good to take care of a scratch like this, even if it was minor, because it came from an unknown creature. It could be poisoned for all Shiro knew. He didn’t think it was, but still.
“Kill a Gremlin?” Shiro asked in a quietly amused voice as he watched her work. “Neither did I.”
…
She wasn't exactly sure what she was doing in regards to this. Her parents had always used healing magic whenever her or Charlie had gotten injured as children. And though she'd managed to actually tap into a semblance of her power when they were outside, which felt wonderful in retrospect, she wasn't sure she would be able to access it again so soon and so easily. But it was there and she was getting it back.
She watched the peroxide bubble on his scratch and made a few. Taking a clean cotton ball, she wiped at the bubbles and moved to place one of the larger bandages against his shoulder.
"You can mark it off a bucket list," she said, with an attempt at jest. Once she laid the bandage down, her fingers shifted, lingering against his shoulder, before she pulled them back. Now she stood, just looking at his back.
Clearing her voice, she leaned forward, resting her hands on the back of the couch till she was able to tilt her head enough to look at Shiro. "Should I get your shirt?"
…
Shiro was about to make a smart reply in return to her jest, but he was distracted when he became aware of where her fingers just pressing, without really moving, for a few seconds. It was bizarre to realize that it felt nice. He had gotten better at casual touch with the paladins -- it was hard not to -- but for the longest time before that, the only thing he had associated with other people was pain. Pain from the Galra, who imprisoned him; pain from the druids, who experimented on him; and pain from the other fighters, who were trying to kill him.
“Please,” Shiro said. He paused and then added, “Thank you, Alice.”
...
She went to get it. Once it was collected in her hands, she frowned slightly, before turning to look in his direction. "I don't think it is going to be salvageable," she informed him, in regard to the slash that had been made through the fabric. If it was solely the blood, they'd have been able to get it out, but unless he took to sewing it shut...it was probably going to be a lost cause. And she doubted it was worth the time to sew it up.
Still, she held it out for him, because she imagined he wanted the comfort of the garment shielding him.
…
“It’s just a shirt,” Shiro answered with a small shrug. All things considered, if that was what took the most damage tonight, they were in good shape as far as he was concerned. He wasn’t careless with his things, but he had certainly learned, in his time with the Galra, what was truly important in his life.
He tugged his shirt back on and smoothed it out. When he was covered again, he said, “Thanks, Alice,” once again.
…
She felt the beginning of a smile with his answer. That was how she would have felt if she was in his position. Once he had taken it, she moved to sit down on the couch beside him, and she let her gaze drop to her lap.
"I should be thanking you," she said instead. Though she had been able to summon plenty of energy to protect them, he had been the first to react. If he wouldn't have been there, things might not have turned out the way they had.
She knew quite well that her burst of energy had come from a desire to protect him. Her self? It might not have been the same and the creature might have gotten the upper hand. "Shiro..." She began, but stopped herself.
…
“I’m pretty sure you proved that you can more than handle yourself,” Shiro replied amicably with even a slight smile on his face. He hadn’t forgotten that blast of light she had let loose. It might have even been smarter to let her handle it, but Shiro had been working mostly on instinct and not entirely intellect at that point.
He looked up and over at her when she said his name.
“Hm?”
…
"I don't think I'd have been able to on my own," she said, quietly, and looked down as she did. She didn't want to explain 'why;' but she knew that before all of this she'd been capable of doing magic she'd been taught as a young girl. She hadn't come anywhere near her actual discipline or potential that she'd once had. Little glass creatures and small summonings? Not defensive battle magic.
She glanced up and moved her hand to brush her hair away from her eyes.
"Can I give you a hug?"
…
He was fairly certain that was not true. He suspected that Alice was completely fine on taking care of herself -- magic or not, she had an innate strength that Shiro could easily recognize. He was about to tell her as much but was distracted by her question.
“Of course,” he answered with a small smile.
…
She was glad that he seemed alright with the question. With the way he'd looked earlier, she would have felt wrong wrapping her arms around him without asking first. So, she shifted, scooting across the couch so that she was able to do just that. Her arms slid around him and she bowed her head forward, resting it against his shoulder.
She was just glad he was okay.
…
Shiro wrapped his arms back around her as soon as she moved closer. It was strange, because he knew he enjoyed hugs, but it had been awhile since anyone had hugged him here. It felt like it did after he had escaped from the Galra and found himself with the team. It was a language he should know, craved knowing, and yet was still remembering.
And he knew that language was a little different with Alice. It was like when they had woken up together, and he had felt an undercurrent that he had thought forgotten entirely. He really didn’t want to mess this up.
He moved his human hand up just the smallest amount, against the fringe of her hair on her back.
…
Alice didn't move to pull away. She found that now, with her arms around him, she didn't have any desire to vacate the position. It had been a long time since she'd felt much in the way of physical human contact. In her initial days back as a human, she'd recoiled from touch. And while she was opening herself up more, and acting more like a human, she still hadn't done much in the way of physical contact. Her night with Shiro had been a rare exception and it hadn't been planned. But she had found that it had been welcome, even if she'd scurried away at first, out of shock more than displeasure. Before that? She'd wrapped an arm around Quentin to help ground him when he had shaken with the after effects of battle magic. It had been done as an act of mercy.
This, however, was sought out and wanted. She wanted the physical assurance that Shiro was alright, she herself was alright, and that things were calm in the aftermath of the attack. It was helping ground her from the rise in adrenaline and it was comforting her.
She breathed in the smell of him and closed her eyes, with her arms tightening around him. She didn't want to pull away.
…
Shiro, for half a second, almost tried to comfort her, to reassure her that everything was okay now. But he held back the comment, because it didn’t seem exactly right to the moment. This was something else.
So, he remained quiet, just aware of the feel of her in his hold. It was a moment of stillness unlike many he’d had recently. Even being here, away from the frontlines of a battle, Shiro had constantly worried over what was happening back home, over if he was doing enough to get back, if he was staying in good fighting shape, if he was processing enough of what had happened to him. But for an instance, his mind just stilled.