“The risk I took was calculated, but man, I’m bad at math.” -- TheDragonsFlame
It was later. The wounds had been repaired and bandaged. The fires had been extinguished. The echoes of the explosions had long since died down. And Tierl was still pissed. Because she was waiting for Jan to wake up after the flakking mess she'd made. Sure, there were upsides and downsides to loving a Lucker, and this was the one that irritated Tierl the most. Watching time tick by. Watching the health indicators tick and jig as Jan's body recovered from everything Jan had done to herself.
Love could be a pain in the arse, sometimes. Just like Tierl's belief that visiting Jan's recovery drawer would somehow speed her recovery from the coma she had put herself in pulling some damn fool stunt to save the day. Which, in her defense, Jan had done. But at severe cost.
Sure, medical care was subsidised, but visiting her wife's drawer every day was flakking painful to endure. And, of course, when Jan recovered consciousness and movement capability, it was when Tierl was at work because of course things worked that way when one was married to a Lucker. It would have been exhausting, but Jan was back amongst the allegedly cogniscent.
They let her go to her ailing wife, and even sprung for some flowering plant that Jan was known to not be allergic to. Because every little bit helps with morale. Morale, businesses had found, was great for productivity. The silly part about that simple fact was the absolute centuries that it took for businesses to realise that and work with it.
Tierl had her usual spate of traffic snarls, hold-ups, construction work, and detours on the way there. Which could only mean that Jan was awake and thinking of her. And because of it all, Tierl made it there as fast as she could. And tripped on the way in.
"I'm sorry," said Jan, getting it out of the way as soon as possible. "I thought I had to."
Tierl sighed. "If I didn't love you as much as I do, I'd file for spousal abuse."
It was an old joke between them, and they both laughed, though Jan had to break off at a twinge. "Please. Spousal abuse is a repeated bad choice. This qualifies as an occupational hazard. C'mere. I missed your kiss."
"I missed your kiss."
"I missed your kiss."
"Take your choice," Tierl giggled, leaning in. Lips met lips, and consequences could go hang, to be honest. This was worth any number of indelible stains, self-inflicted bruises, and vendomats that ate her change. "Don't do anything that silly again for at least two years?"
"I took a calculated risk," said Jan, mock-defensively.
"But you suck at math..."
"Okay," said Jan. "I won't do anything that silly unless you're around to stop me."
"Deal." Tierl lay down next to her wife for a careful and extended embrace. "I have a month and a half's worth of office gossip to catch you up on. Which should be good for most of the hugging I need..."
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / rocketclips]
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