Page 81 of Ladybirds

The laugh she gives is shaky and short, fitting in the span of a breath, as she takes the prescription from him. She hugs him. Maybe it’s the stress of the day, but Sara feels the breath leave her lungs in a stuttering sigh against his chest and holds him just a little bit tighter. “Thank you. For everything.”

He pulls away, ruffles her hair the way he knows she hates (but really kind of loves). “Stay out of trouble, yeah? And call me if you need anything.”

It’s an easy thing to agree to.

After she locks the door behind him, she returns to Seth’s side. Gently, she nudges his shoulder—murmurs his name.

His eyes blink open, staring at her for several long seconds with a sleepy frown pulling at his lips. “Sara?”

“Hey, Miles went home. Are you ready for bed?”

The furrow in his brow deepens, an adorably confused look stealing across his face. “There’s this odd… empty feeling in my stomach. I think, perhaps, I may be starving.”

She raises her eyebrows. “May be?”

“I’m quite out of practice.”

“Let me see what we have,” she says, studying him. “Do you think you can stay awake long enough to eat?”

He hums, eyes slipping shut before drowsily reopening. “I make no such promises.”

Right. Something quick, then. She grabs a few protein bars from the kitchen, hoping he can stay awake long enough to eat at least one.

“I believe some of that ghastly excuse for cake was promised.”

“Yeah, I don’t exactly keep that on hand.”

He huffs, a shadow of a smile teasing his lips. “Pity. An obscene amount of sugar would be welcome about now.”

Sara hands him one of the bars, ignoring the skeptical look he gives it. She cuts him off before he can complain. “Gift horse. Mouth. Don’t complain.”

Scowling, he grumbles an obscenity under his breath as he tears the wrapper. Taking a bite, he pauses, making a face before forcibly swallowing. “This is vile.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“But surely they’re still allowed to gripe.” He glares at the half-wrapped bar, a frown on his lips. “A piss poor substitute for cake.”

He sounds so much like a petulant toddler, that it’s almost funny. “Will you please just eat it so we can sleep?”

He takes another bite, not bothering to hide his displeasure as he chews. Forcing himself to swallow, he gestures to her room. “Help yourself. Don’t let me keep you.”

“If I trusted you not to fall asleep and choke on your food, I might. Besides, you can barely sit up straight. Even if you don’t pass out, I doubt you’re getting off the couch by yourself.”

He blinks at her, slow and lazy. “Off? Why would I do that?” He holds up the remaining third of the protein bar. “Are you aware of how dry these are? How on earth do you stomach it? I rather suspect I’d find more moisture in a handful of sand.”

Sara rubs her eye, fighting back a yawn even as she heads to the kitchen to get him something to drink. He’s not the only one who finds the bars unappetizing (which is why she still has them, despite being overdue for a grocery run). “Can’t get to the bed if you can’t get up.”

Seth freezes. “I’m not taking your bed.”

Sara rolls her eyes, pulling a glass down from the cabinet. “You’re injured.” She glances at his wound—still angry and raw. “And it’s not like you fit on my couch.”

“Perhaps I stuttered,” he deadpans, completely unfazed. “I am not taking your bed.”

“Seth, when was the last time you slept? Before tonight?” His silence—his stillness—is answer enough. She sighs, running a hand through her hair. “Look, I really don’t mind. Ok? I’d rather you have it.”

“It’s not—” he cuts himself off, looking more uncomfortable than she’s ever seen him.

“Not what?” She watches, in amused fascination, as a flush darkens his cheeks.

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