3 | We Who Survive the Apocalypse | ✅

Chapter 22 - Peanut Butter

"Look, while she's sleeping, just let me see to you," I whisper to Rogan, trying not to wake Mara, who is finally resting.

He only grunts. "I'm fine."

I roll my eyes. "You got slashed across the stomach with a knife. You need to be seen to."

"I've had worse," he replies, never taking his eyes off Mara, still holding her pale hand in his.

"I'm sure you have, and you will have, if you keep refusing to let me help you," I tell him, my temper flaring.

The stare he gives me douses a bunch of cold water on my burning anger. "You threatening me?"

My eyes widen, and I freeze for a second before replying, "Yes."

He continues to stare at me, his gray eyes seeming to analyze every inch of me until he finally says, "Fine."

"Great."

"But don't threaten me again. Only Carrots can do that and get away with it."

"Okay." Yeah, it is probably not a good idea to get in the habit of threatening or ordering Rogan about.

Carefully, he releases Mara's hand, and she murmurs in her sleep. He leans forward, presses a kiss to her forehead, and then follows me into the living room just as Doyle is coming into the bedroom to keep an eye on Mara.

I figured it would be better to tend to Rogan in the living room, since we will more than likely start arguing, and I want Mara to rest as much as she can.

Rogan sits himself in an armchair beside the ratty old couch that Seth occupies. He begins unbuttoning his coat as I gather the makeshift supplies Hudson and I put together.

Water boils in a pot on the stove. We were pleasantly surprised to find it was a gas stove, and still working. My dumb luck has not run out after all.

I take the pot with the water and set it on the side table beside the armchair, with a folded towel underneath to keep it from catching the wood on fire or something, dropping a rag into the steaming liquid to soak before I use it.

"Okay, show me the damage," I say, and, with an impatient look, Rogan lifts up his shirt just enough to reveal the piece of torn cloth he has tied around his body.

I remove it from his torso and focus on the angry, still-bleeding gash across his stomach.

"It needs stitches," he states matter-of-factly, "I can do it if you don't want to."

I give him a sideways look. "I've stitched people up before, you know."

"There's a needle and anything else you'll need in my pack," he says, ignoring my statement.

Thank Thor. Because my supplies are severely lacking. I spot his pack sitting just inside the doorway of the room Mara is in, and go fetch it, settling in front of him again before unzipping the main compartment.

"It's in the smallest pocket in the front," he says as I pull a jar of peanut butter out of the pack with curiosity.

"You have peanut butter?" I ask, a little envious. Peanut butter is kind a rarity and a delicacy these days.

"It's Mara's. She loves the stuff." He says, "now are gonna stitch me up or can I just go back to her?"

"You're not going anywhere until I finish with you." I quickly place the peanut butter back into the pack and get the needle and things before he can escape, and get to work.

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Heyyyy, look who updated!!!!

 With a super short chapter where nothing happens but anyway....