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“Bill, must you hover so close? I will be fine.”
Sif was finishing minor repairs on one of her swords before retiring to her tent, she wanted to have it ready as soon as possible before the swelling in her hand made it difficult, in case things heated up in the middle of the night. After an earlier heated argument that ended in several broken pieces of weaponry, before the actual battle occurred, the smiths that were assigned to the squadron were far from her favorite people. She wouldn’t allow them to touch any of her belongings, let alone something as vital to her as her swords. The pain was one thing, the blood tricking from her scalp and into her eyes could be wiped away, but trying to ignore the concerned and annoyingly persistent pestering of Bill literally and figuratively breathing down her neck while she worked was an entirely different matter.
“Please, Sif, you are hurt! Let me call the healers over!”
“There are others more in need of their care than I. It can wait.”
He gave a defeated sigh and continued his agitated pacing around the work bench, his tongue darting out to lick his mouth in a nervous fashion, huffing and whining to himself under his breath, every so often stopping to paw at the ground in frustration. She could control her outward reaction towards her wounds, but that seemed not to matter as Bill somehow sensed when her pain spiked, fussing over her and becoming more and more distraught.
Sif would not yield, but thankfully she finally finished. Not the best repair job, but it would do for now. Her favored smiths would arrive tomorrow, and they could fix any mistakes she made. Bill’s mood was not nearly as bad as before, relieved that he could finally escort her back to her temporary quarters, but his body language clearly showed that he was still on edge and uncomfortable about something.
“Come now, I’m doing what you want, what’s the matter now?’
“You are hurt.”
“Am I? I did not notice.”
“All that blood ….it is horrible and it’s everywhere.”
“Does blood bother you? You could have fooled me, especially with how rare you enjoyed those sides of boar last night. The cook was offended when you ate them before he could get his hands on them,” she teased as she limped inside, removing her bracers and other small pieces of armor.
Bill gathered up what she took off and retrieved the medical satchel, dumping its contents on the small table, and tearing clean strips of fabric for bandages.
“It bothers me when it is your blood. It smells wrong.”
He perceived the world in a different way from Asgardians, due to his artificial and genetic enhancements. That snout of his was keener than any of the Asgard’s hounds (they found out during a drunken bet with one of the most respected hound breeder in the realm). What could he mean by .wrong.? She remembered fighting against enemies that coated their blades in poison, and suddenly she feared for those that were more critically hurt, they would be extremely vulnerable if the right kind of mixture was used!
“Did those cowards use poison?!”
“No! Nothing like that! It’s just, you are hurt. You are not clean. All I can think about is your wounds healing improperly and festering, while I neglect you and do nothing about it. It is wrong.”
Sif couldn’t help but laugh, earning her a small growl from the cyborg.
“You find that amusing?”
“I know you know that even my deepest wounds will be healed by the morning, I am not like your people. These are simple injuries my body can handle on its own. Without a specialized toxin, spell, or strong alien pathogen I’ve no immunity for, I doubt it even possible for them to get infected. ”
“Yes, I understand.”
“Then why are you acting like I am on my deathbed?”
“I…..don’t know,” he admitted, “….it certainly couldn’t be because I care about you?”
Sif caught the cheeky glint in his eyes. She must have gotten through to him, at least a little, if he was willing to fake being cross with her. She gave him a playful punch on the arm.
“Watch it, or you’ll be sleeping outside. Now, can you fill that basin with clean water?”
He nodded, and poured some from a large pitcher. She handed him a few small bottles of soothing elixers, and a satchel of herbs from her garden into the mixture. With a touch, she activated one of the engravings on the side, and the water began to heat up. Ideally she would have a long soak in a hot spring, but a cloth bath would do fine. While it steeped, she peeled off as much of her armor as she could, and Bill helped to remove the rest as her right hand was now too swollen to be of use. He could now see the wounds on the parts of her body that had been hidden, though he no doubt knew were there by the smell of her blood. She was bruised all around her rib cage, dark purple splotches mottled her torso. A few of her ribs were probably fractured, but she had far worse before. Open gashes on her thighs were already starting to heal, the edged of her skin slowly fusing back together. She hissed as she inspected the largest one for foreign objects with her fingers, opening the wound, and Bill whined as if he was the one in pain.
“Gently!”
“It has to be done,” she gritted through her teeth as she felt around.
“Can’t it be done gently?”
“No.”
Thankfully there was nothing big enough to cause her trouble in the future. She sighed and eased herself down on her cot, leading his face down at the same time with her good hand, giving him a small kiss on the top of his snout when he sat beside her.
“Thank you, Bill.”
“Always, my lady.”
He returned the kiss on her cheek, a gentle lick.
The kiss turned into two.
Then three.
Then what he was doing could hardly be called kissing. In this form, it was the only way he could kiss, and she was used to the slightly unconventional romantic show of affection, but this felt different. He was lapping at her face with deliberate motions, purring contently, seemingly on a mission. She accepted it, until he started moving up, and up, and up, reaching her……eye? He was cleaning her. The drying blood that had trailed down her face, it’s what he was washing off.
“Bill?”
“Mmhmmm?”
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
He simply purred louder, and started to gingerly work on the source of her blood, the cuts to her scalp that were mostly healed by now.
“And what kind of dessert do you plan on serving after you’ve had your fill of my blood?”
That made him stop him dead in his tracks, which in this case meant mid-lick. He scrambled backwards off the bed, as if he was just burnt.
“SIF, I’M SORRY, I DIDN’T THINK I’D ACTUALLY….I HAD MY SUSPICIONS, BUT I DIDN’T THINK….”
“It’s fine, Bill.”
“IT IS NOT, I WAS….”
She tried to raise herself up to pick him off the floor herself, but her body wasn’t having it, and she groaned as gravity sent her back on her backside.
“SIF!”
“Get…get back up here, you silly oaf.”
Bill did as told, but avoided touching her. Knowing he was not always comfortable when he involuntarily behaved like the animal his body was forged with, she nestled into his chest, feeling him slowly calm down the more she pressed her weight against him.
“You need not feel embarrassed.”
“I can’t help what I feel,” he muttered, and gently rested his head on top of hers.
“Exactly. You said it yourself, you only wanted to help.”
“….I tried not make it weird.”
“And you didn’t. It’s a natural response in many species, even some sentient ones, to lick and care for the wounds of those they care about. Why would I be bothered being reminded you feel that way for me? That you care for my well being?”
Sif played her trump card and scratched the side of his thick neck, something they both knew reduced him to putty in her hands. They sat together in mostly silence for a while, the comforting rumbling sound from Bill putting both of them at ease. She could have stayed like that forever, but unfortunately she was too tired and lightheaded to keep her arm raised for that long.
“Mmm, you are a dirty cheat,” he chuckled.
“And you a sore loser,” she grinned up at him smugly before planting a kiss on his face once more. ” Speaking of sore, I think the healing water is ready. Care to help me out?”
“With less tongue this time? Yes.”