rest a little while // erik lehnsherr & gender-neutral reader
Summary: Reader is tired and injured, Erik takes care of them. The details of the relationship are left entirely up to interpretation; I originally wrote this with a parental relationship in mind (dadneto, my beloved) but could just as easily be romantic or friendly. It's just floof for a bad day. Rating: general Relationships: erik lehnsherr/reader or erik lehnsherr/reader Warnings: minor injury, nudity
[ READ ON AO3 ]
YOUR EYES HAVE LONG SINCE FLUTTERED SHUT and your mind has filtered out the sound of worried voices and movement all around. You'd only barely made it home, collapsing on the floor the moment you knew you were safe. It's not that you're dying. You aren't even bleeding out. The worst wound you have is the one on your thigh, which you'd already patched as best you could. More than anything else, it's the aching. You'd fought for so long, and so hard. Until your limbs were trembling, pushing yourself to the last dredges of exhaustion. And then you'd still had to drag yourself home.
The world comes back into focus as you feel an arm slide beneath your shoulders, and then another slips beneath the back of your knees. You're lifted into strong arms, hanging there limply. Could you move? Maybe. If you had to. But you don't have to. You finally have a chance to rest.
Your head lolls and falls against a chest. You nuzzle into it slightly - a soft cotton shirt atop a warm body. It smells nice. Freshly washed. You can feel the rhythm of footsteps as you are carried shift, becoming heavier as you go up a staircase. With your eyes still closed, you aren't paying attention to the world around you, but you recognize the path towards your bedroom anyway.
It doesn't take long to realize who's carrying you. It's Erik, of course. He seems as calm as ever from what you can tell of his actions and the few words exchanged after your collapse at the doorstep. But you know better than to assume he's truly okay. You're sure you've worried him sick. You guess he simply isn't going to tear into you just now, not when you're already so hurt and so tired.
At some point, the world tilts again and you feel Erik put you gently on your feet. He stays close, holding you to his chest, letting you lean your weight onto him so you don't have to stay upright without support. He says your name, softly but firmly, calling your attention to him.
"You're tired," he announces as if that isn't obvious. "Sleep now, or can you handle a quick shower?"
Right. Because you're covered in dirt and blood. It would be an uncomfortable sleep if you didn't pass out as soon as you hit the pillow, which you suspect you will. But the idea of being cleaned off and tucked away is tempting. Maybe . . . maybe you have just enough energy left to make sure you're not worsening the risk of infection in the little cuts and scrapes scattered across your body.
The bathroom is only a few steps away. Erik walks you in and wordlessly taps your arms to get you to lift them, pulling up your shirt. You feel quite small as he dutifully gets you out of your ruined clothing, supporting you with an arm around your waist as you step out of your bottoms. It doesn't feel strange to be naked, though it should. Perhaps it's the way Erik seems almost clinical, acting the role of a nurse, not at all awkward or hesitant as he helps you, though he does make sure to support you in places that aren't uncomfortable to touch. The bathroom tile is cool against your bare feet as he takes off your shoes and socks, and the ache there is made stronger, almost painfully cramping, but the pain soothed.
You are gently set against the sink as if you are a piece of fragile furniture as Erik turns the faucet and tests the water. The pressure sounds strong and you can feel the warm steam beginning to fill the room as he takes you back against his shoulder, letting you use him as a support.
The step into the shower is large but easy, as all you really need to do is lift your leg and lean against Erik and he maneuvers you in the right way to get you inside without hurting you or causing you strain. The thought hits you that he's probably been like this countless times before, alone. Covered in blood, injured, and having to drag himself into the shower, or home into bed. Perhaps that's why he seems to know so well how to help.
The water is warm but not too hot as you step one foot and therefore half of yourself into the pressurized stream of it. You can feel your muscles relaxing as the water washes over you, melting the stress away. The ache worsened by the cold tile floor slinks off, softened by the warm water streaming over your feet and towards the drain. Part of you remains outside of the beloved warmth, and that part shivers. You're eager to get under there as soon as possible.
The second step is harder. Your body weight is leaned against Erik, it's hard to push yourself upright without him. You try it, but you don't manage to finish before Erik moves, interrupting your effort. As soon as he sees you struggling, he steps into the shower too. He's behind you, then, pulling you back against him to rest against his chest. You watch the fabric of his shirt turn darker as half of him is soaked through in seconds. He's still fully clothed, wearing jeans, shoes, even, but he doesn't seem concerned with his hair falling flat and the water dripping down half of him like he's just entered a downpour. He just shifts to better support you and helps you lift yourself into the water. A hand lifts and brushes through your hair, petting it back and away from your face. Silently, he begins gently washing the blood and dirt away.
You do not have to move anymore. The thought hits you that Erik is here, holding you, and you don't think you even have to try to stand - he would probably just carry you down to the shower floor, wouldn't he?
You sink back against him, letting your full weight rest there, your knees sagging. Erik doesn't falter. There is a slight shift as an arm is wrapped around your waist. The other keeps gently washing your hair, kneading the mess out of it. He carefully uses his thumb to wet your dirtied cheeks and forehead and let that wash away, too. It's difficult, but you raise your hands to help, washing away the parts that are more intimate to touch as Erik washes your hair and your back, holding you upright. Minutes pass in careful, caring silence as you are tended to, aided.
You feel half asleep already as Erik carefully guides you to rest with your back against the shower wall. Little scrapes and cuts have been carefully washed, but there is the wound on your thigh - you had torn an old shirt to bandage the damned thing, done your best to stop the bleeding with what you had, but the sweat and filth have turned that old shirt brown, dangerous to use as a bandage. You lean against the wall of the shower as Erik unties the cloth. His touch is gentle but firm as he washes the wound. it stings, it really does, but he is quick, and you're sure it's much safer now than it would have been before.
The warmth has sunk into your bones. You feel clean, finally, free of sweat and blood and whatever else. Erik's shirt is as soaked as you are, only a small part of his leg kept safe from the shower's downpour. He helps you out of the shower step by step. Before the cold air can set in, you are wrapped in a large, fluffy towel. Another is used to dry you off so you aren't dripping like he is.
There is another long and yet short walk, a handful of steps out of the bathroom and into your room that feels like a lifetime. You are set against the dresser, toweled and warm. Erik lifts your arms once more to pull a warm sweater over your head, then pulls your towel away to help you step into underwear and pajamas.
You are impossibly sleepy. Perhaps you've been nodding off in the interim as Erik has been taking care of you. Finally - finally - Erik does not bother with making you walk. He lifts you up into his arms to carry you over to your wonderful bed, the mattress soft and waiting to swallow you and guide you into blissful slumber. You sink into it as you are laid down upon it. The warm and gentle seems to surround you, holding you like sunlight on a warm summer day. It feels as though you have been half asleep for hours already. Like a dream.
It is the easiest thing in the world to slip away into rest, eyes fluttering closed against the pillow only seconds after being put down. You do not stir as Erik pulls your blankets up over you, tucking you in. You are not aware of it as he brushes his hand over your cheek, looking down at you with worry and care in his eyes. Perhaps you feel a distant touch as he leans down to press a sweet kiss to your forehead, petting your hair back.
He sits on the edge of your bed for a short while, watching you doze and worrying, as you thought he was, though he's barely said a thing all night. you know someone is likely to be chewed out sometime soon, but tonight, all is peaceful.
Erik squeezes your shoulder ever so gently as he finally stands, turning off the lights and quietly, the door clicks shut behind him.