“Busted Blue, Just for You” (Geoff Tipps x reader)
Summary: Geoff comes back home to his lover all beaten and bruised - his injuries seeming a bit more severe this time around. Luckily, you’re there to help patch him up.
A/n: Hello! My first (somewhat) finished TLOG fic is finally here! Couldn’t think of a title so this might be a placeholder until I can find something better (though I might use this one for later we’ll see😋). Also side note, I’m from the US so I’m not sure if it’ll be apparent in the way Geoff and the reader talk to each other so don’t hold it against me lol. Definitely have to proofread + adjust more later, but right now I’m tired and just wanna get a fic out for the mere fun of it, so I hope you enjoy XP
CW: none really, just mentions of cuts and bruises
It’s dark by the time he gets back.
You’re in the kitchen as you hear the door close, accompanied by the rustling of Geoff taking his jacket off and putting his suitcase down. “Just got back, love,” he calls out from the living room. You dry your hands on a nearby kitchen towel and make your way to the living room to greet him only to be met with such a sight - your boyfriend had been beaten up, and pretty good by the looks of it. You knew his mouth and bad temper could get him into a lot of trouble, but never had it been like this.
“Geoff, what the hell happened?!” You say as you rush towards him, holding his face to observe all his cuts and bruises. “Nothin’ to be concerned about, just a couple bruises is all.” He avoids your gaze, dawning a similar look of a disheveled, sad little puppy that had been stuck out in the rain.
“Fuckin’ hell, how did you even manage to get this one?! - That’s it, sit down.” You order him to sit on the sofa as you go off to find a first aid kit from the bathroom. It’d been used a lot since you first got with Geoff, yet it always frightened you just a bit when you had to take it out.
You come back and immediately get to work applying antiseptic to his cuts, muttering quiet scoldings under your breath as your eyebrows knitted together into a worried expression. He observes the way you care for him, and he can feel his heart flutter a bit at how such tenderness could be delivered to such a nasty man such as himself. He would’ve thought it’d all been a dream, had the alcohol not have stung so much.
“Yeowh!” The northern man cries out, jumping back as his expression scrunches in one of pain, his hands over his face so as to create a makeshift barrier.
“Sorry about that, love,” you wince out in an apology, trying to be more careful in your methods. “How’d you even get such a big cut there anyways? You’d best hope that it isn’t broken.”
“I’m busted blue just for you, dear.” He jokes, though chuckling did seem to hurt him a bit. You do your best to suppress a smile, shaking your head at the fool before you.
You encourage him to remove his hands so that you can see one of the bigger wounds: a big gash right along the bridge of his nose. You wince from the mere sight of it, hoping that it wouldn’t leave a nasty scar as you lean in for a closer look.
You gently cup the side of his face and bring him closer to you, worry tainting your features as you tend to the wound with the concentration and precision of a surgeon (or whatever the opposite of Mr. Chinnery’s skills are, at least). He gazes at you with such tenderness in his eyes, logging every movement, every breath. He wasn’t used to being cared for before you showed up, especially not like this. Out of anyone in the world that you could be giving your attention to, for some odd reason it was towards him, and he cherished you for it. He could cry if it wasn’t for his damn ego and insecurities getting in the way. Yet for a few moments he got to be vulnerable in your presence. Those few seconds felt like wonderful lifetimes to him, imagining what a wonderful life you two could share together - but then again, it could also be the many drinks he’d had at the pub that night.
You lean back and start to pack up the first aid kit, having finally finished patching up your lover. “That should be it. Looks like you won’t need stitches this time ‘round.” You lean in to give him a quick peck on the forehead so as to avoid irritating his cut lower lip. As you leave him momentarily to go put the kit away, Geoff is left there, wondering what we would do without you there to care for him. Wondering what a wreck he would become without your presence. Wondering, merely wondering…
You come back and settle in right next to him, your head leaning on his shoulder as his arm finds its way to wrap around your side. You turn on the tv and watch with no particular interest, taking in your boyfriend’s warmth as you feel his chest rise with each breath he takes. Geoff looks down at you, still questioning how an angel like you could ever give such love to a (pathetic,) creature like him. If he was certain in himself that he could deserved to be loved, he could marry you right there on the spot. Though he didn’t want to tempt fate, given his bad record. He mustn’t let himself think about it for too long, though - that worry was for another day. For now, he could just sit and admire you while he still has you here.
The night was perfect otherwise, the tempo of his soft breathing tempting you closer towards sleep as you snuggled in closer into him. There was no other place you’d rather be than there in his arms. Despite the catastrophe, this moment here with him was truly perfect. So perfect, in fact, that you could spend the rest of your life relishing the feeling.
After a little while of sitting in comfortable silence, you pipe up, your eyes never leaving the flashing screen.
“By the way, how did you get so beaten up, anyways?”
“…Fell down the pub’s stairs.”
