milliways_bar | (no subject)

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(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

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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?"

"Tripped on them, too."

Regardless, he might keep it. Rubber bouncy balls are fun, when they are not plotting your downfall*!

Her nose scrunches in commiseration. That must've hurt.

"Need me to get ice or anything? Or would you rather I stay here?"

He shrugs. "They'll be fine."

It's not like they're the worst he's had, after all.

He sticks a hand in the water to check on the temperature. Not that he distrusts Jenny or anything, but always nice to know Milliways hasn't suddenly decided to cut off your access to warm water. Wouldn't be fun.

"I made sure it was at a temperature you liked," Jenny explains as he checks.

There's a sudden nervous timbre in her tone. She's never actually hung around while Bart showered and she's waiting, any moment now, for him to decide he wants to be alone. Which is the last thing she wants. What if that bruise on his forehead affected his nervous system? What if he collapses?

All these worries are annoying. She sighs, pulling her knees up to her chest.

Speaking of which...

Lo, there is a casual, "You planning to stick around?"

Which is met with a wide eyed, deer caught in the headlight look.

"Do you want me to go?"