milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

{OOM: Time me. (Or, even superheroes have their off days.)}

So, to recap: when Bart enters the bar his hair is drenched in Icee (blueberry) and his forehead is sporting a large bruise in the form of a backwards 'FRESH!!'. He grumps at the bar for a second before making his way, stiffly, for the door to the rooms upstairs. He's not superspeeding, so you can catch him if you're so inclined.

Tinytags: Jenny, Billy Kaplan

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She walks with him, arm sliding around his waste for support.

"What happened?"

Mostly, this aggravates some bruises (have you ever fallen on a large number of rubber balls? It's not comfortable!), but he appreciates the sentiment.

Or something.

"It's a long story."

"I have all of time," she answers quietly, only realising seconds later just how true that statement is.

Her fear overpowers any shield she might have had up, if just for a moment. A Bart in pain is a Bart that requires her utmost concentration and concern. Which means no distractions, for either of them.

"And I can help you, if you want."

"I'm fine. Just a couple bruises."

IN THE SHAPE OF A BACKWARDS 'FRESH!!'.

(Comforting Bart is comforting?)

"Oh."

She's doing this wrong, isn't she? The whole girlfriend thing. Just like she's done the whole Time Lady thing wrong, and the whole soldier thing wrong.

Jenny let's going of him and takes a step back.

"I guess I'll go back to reading, then."

...That was unexpected.

"If you want?"

D:, Jenny!

She doesn't want to, not really.

But: "You don't need me right now, do you?"

Dear Jenny: he is bad at admitting it when he needs help. Please don't take it personally. Love, the munagement.

"I want you around."

:D?

"Oh."

Jenny smiles slightly and places her arm back around his waist. That's good to know. It's very good to know.

"Your room or mine?"

Carefully, the narration hopes. "Mine's good."

For lo, he still has that shampoo there that Tyler gave him for getting stickystuff out of your hair.

"Okay," she answers, helping him up the stairs slowly.

"Are you going to tell me what happened at all?"

"Yeah."

Beat.

"I'm not really sure."

What. It happened fast!

She gives him a quizzical look as they reach the proper landing.

"What do you mean by that?"

"It happened kinda fast."

(Fine, fine, being knocked out for a small portion of it didn't help.)

"Yeah?"

It doesn't really surprise Jenny. He is a speedster, after all.

"Yeah."

Pause for wiping blueberry icee away from his eye.

...Continue pausing.

It's a pause that, thankfully for him, lasts as they approach his door. Jenny fishes out her key from her pocket and opens it.

"Maybe we should get you in the shower first?"

"Unless I want blue hair for the rest of the week, yeah."

"It could look cute," she offers with a small laugh. "But I think I'm kind of happy with your hair as is."

"So am I," he agrees.

And proceeds to dig around for that shampoo.

As he looks for the shampoo, Jenny starts the shower. She plays with the faucet until finding the right combination of hot and cold water that she knows Bart likes.

Then she takes a seat on the toilet, waiting for him almost impatiently.

She doesn't have to wait long! Bart comes in bearing the elusive bottle of peppermint-y smelling shampoo, which he quickly tosses to Jenny so he can strip off his shirt and sweatshirt.

"Good for sticky drinks and ectoplasm!"

...Or so he hears. He hasn't exactly had occasion to check on that last one, but a reliable source said so!

Jenny catches the shampoo with ease and then frowns when she sees his chest. The familiar skin is covered with a number of various sized, ball-shape bruises, turning all sorts of awful colours.

"Oh, Bart," she murmurs. "How did that happen?"

"I fell."

It's not as bad as it looks, really!

...Well, depending on your imagination and how bad you think it looks. Regardless, while you were imagining that, Bart was finding a green-blue rubber ball bouncing away from his sweatshirt.

A souvenir!

Jenny thinks it looks bad. But, then again, the slightest change in his appearance tends to result in worry - unless its that type of bruise she purposely put there during sex.

She reaches down from her seat to pick up the rubber ball. It's eyed for a moment before she looks back at him.

"Did you fall on these?"