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You hadn't heard him coming in through the sound of the running water and podcast you had going on in the background. When the shower curtain was gently drawn back, you almost had a heart attack, your first instinct to shield your body.
"Baby, it's just me," as soon as you realized it was Marc, you relaxed and let out a long sigh, "I called your name, to be fair."
"How was I supposed to hear it above all of this noise?" you rolled your eyes dramatically. You studied him, a frown tugging down the corners of your mouth as you realized there was some dried blood on his face...and his clothes, "oh Marc. Do I really want to know?"
"It's fine," he insisted, smiling hesitantly, trying to gauge whether or not you were more mad or concerned, "you should-"
"See the other guy," you finished for him, lightly shaking your head, "Marc. You need to...please don't get hurt. I don't know what else to say other than to be careful."
"Come on, baby," he gave you a small pout as you reached up to lightly wipe away some of the caked blood, "'m fine. Nothing bad."
"Don't look at me like that. Do you see me smiling? I can't smile at you," there was a look of exasperation on your face that caused his stomach to churn. He despised the idea that he hurt you in any way, "I'm mad."
"Why?"
"Why?" Either he was really clueless or he had a lot of audacity, "Marc Spector, you cannot seriously be asking me that question."
"Umm..."
"I'm mad because you're so reckless," you huffed, throwing your hands around. You reached for the collar of his shirt and gently pulled it off him. He complied wordlessly, lifting his arms to assist. You tossed it across the bathroom before repeating the action with his pants, letting him hold your hand as he kicked off his jeans and boxers and socks, "come on, get in here."
Marc made a small sound in the back of his throat before stepping into the warmth of the shower as you closed the curtain again. You switched places with him, letting him get the warmth of the water on what you were sure was his sore back, "I'm mad because I'm scared that one day you're going to come home and I'm not going to be able to help you, to make it better. I don't want that to happen, Marc. You might be an asshole, but you're my asshole. I want to keep it that way."
"I'm sorry," he sighed as he hung his head before letting out a long sigh, "I don't want you to worry. I promise I'll be more careful."
"You've said that before," you put your finger under his chin and tilted his face up to meet yours, "I worry because I care about you - I love you - not because I'm trying to be some sort of controlling bitch."
"I know," he took your hand and pressed a kiss to your palm, "I know. I'll do my best. Pinky promise."
"Fine," you couldn't help but laugh lightly as you hooked your pinky around his, "this is a pinky promise though, bad things will happen if you break it."
"I won't plan on doing that then," he grinned, "there is one more thing - just remember you love me..."
"Marc..."
"I might have tracked in some blood when I got home," he said sheepishly as you groaned, "I'll clean it up! Just don't panic when you see it."
"What am I going to do with you?" you ran a hand through his wet curls before leaning in to kiss him gently, "come on, let me take care of you."
"You don't have to-"
"It's not up for negotiation, Spector," you grabbed the bottle of shampoo before gently turning him around. You squeezed some of the shampoo into your hand before starting to massage into his scalp, "let me do this for you. I want to."
"You gonna let me do the same for you?" his words quickly melted into a groan at how good your little scalp massage felt, "fuck that feels so good."
"Don't get too used to it," you poked his side in his ticklish area and he immediately squirmed under your touch, "and no, you're not doing this for me...today."
"Why not?" he turned around as you washed the shampoo out of his air, watching it swirl down the drain along with some of the old blood, tinging it a light pink, "baby..."
"If I let you touch me, we're never going to make it out of the shower," you raised an eyebrow as a sheepish expression crossed his features. It wasn't totally what he had in mind, but he was most definitely not opposed to the idea, "and as much as I like having sex with you, now is not the time. Your side's already bruising, and I'm not going to let you hurt yourself more."
"Doesn't mean I can't-"
"It does, and that is final," you insisted firmly. Your serious face lasted about two seconds before you couldn't stop yourself from kissing his pout. He instantly melted into your touch and wrapped his arms around you. You hadn't intended for it to go this far but when he gently backed you against the cool tile wall, you didn't stop him. You put your hand on his chest to stop him only when you were thoroughly breathless, "Marc. I'm supposed to be in charge. You're taking advantage of my love for you."
"It's cute when you think you're in control," you wanted to slap that little smirk off of his face, but didn't have the heart to do it. Not when he was looking at you like that with those eyes. You were weak for him, and he knew it, "won't you be a good girl and let me take care of you?"
"M-marc," you sighed softly as his hand ran down your side, stopping just above your backside.
"I'll be careful," he promised as he leaned in to kiss you again, "and gentle."
"Don't be," you said breathlessly in between kisses, "don't hurt yourself but don't be gentle."
"Whatever you want baby," he grinned, "I love you."
"I love you too," you gasped lightly at the feeling of his lips moving along your jaw and down your throat, "now touch me."
