The Remaining Sense of Warmth
| Fanfic Info | |
| Title | The Remaining Sense of Warmth |
| Genres | Comedy, Moe |
| Author | TwiceBorn |
| Timeline | Shortly after Thread 237 |
| Canonicity Status | VERY VERY Non-Canon |
| Completion Status | One-Shot |
The Remaining Sense of Warmth
“Kyaa!”
The apothecarium's always a lively place. We got corpses, we got people becoming corpses, we got blood and guts and screaming. Always with the screaming—anesthesia is for wusses.
The Apothecary Primus tripping all over herself, though? -That's- not something you see every day.
She's sitting on the floor, legs splayed out, the black pantyhose covering her legs all stretched and torn. Her labcoat's rumpled, just like the long purple dress under it. The white mantle-scarf-whatever thing she likes to wear is sitting back in her locker, so all that's covering her pale, slender neck is her that long, jet-black, silky hair of hers. Tears blur her ruby-red eyes, and she's squinting as she's rubbing her ankle in pain.
“Ow...”
Apothecary Primus Touno Asai. Just started her new job as head of the Ninth's Apothecarion a little while ago. Took over from our old boss, Garra Valthex, after Garra decided that she got bored and shoved it onto Asai. For an ex-Eversor who's only been doing medical stuff for a year and a half, she's doing pretty good—really good, if you think about how many 0's she's got on the end of her paycheck.
We still like her, though. She's cool under pressure, does a good job, and you just can't hate someone super-polite as she is.
...never thought I'd ever see her like this, though. What'd she even trip over? We keep this floor clean, doctor's orders.
“Miyazuki,” she says from the floor, still a mess with her clothes all crumpled up and her hair all over the place, “could you help me up?” I move to assist, and put her back on her feet. “Thank you—ah!”
She hisses in pain. The way she's hobbling—looks like she sprained that ankle pretty bad.
Her eyes droop with worry and guilt. She's a tall, mature girl in her late teens, but goddamn can she pull off the puppy-dog look. “I'm sorry, but could I ask you to get me to my office? I don't think I can do any surgery for the next few hours like this...”
Gah. Dammit, boss. You're killing me here. Stop looking at me like that.
-
A minute later, we're in the hallway leading to Asai's little office.
I dunno how it happened, but I've got her on my back. I think I was trying to lend her my shoulder, let her use me like a crutch, but we were both pretty tired and uncoordinated—it's still been just an hour or two since we finished working on Omegon. Now THAT was a surgery to remember. I think we just wrote the book on dealing with 3rd-degree burns caused by hellfire birthed from ineffable sorcery. Either way, me lending her a shoulder just ended up with us stumbling around a whole lot, so I ended up giving her a piggyback.
I guess neither of us thought much about it when it happened, but by now I can feel her warmth on my back...that, and, uh, a couple other things. Really nice and....and soft...
...fine, I admit it. I'm one of the grabby ones in the shower rooms. Hell, I might've even started it. And when we hit the showers, Asai tends to get a lot of the attention. Now, to my credit, she never seemed to mind it too much, always just waved it off and laughed a little. I asked her about it one time, and she said letting off a little steam now and then was fine, as long as it didn't go overboard.
Here, though...it's funny, but all of a sudden I'm a lot more aware of what's on my back, despite all the layers of clothing between me and her. Didn't mean much back in the showers, but right now, I'm just trying to focus real hard on carrying my boss over to her office and -nothing. Else-.
...man, her shampoo smells really—goddammit. Stop putting your head on my shoulder, boss, you're not THAT tired.
Well, ok. She's allowed to be a little tired. Operating on a Culexus out of her hardsuit for eight hour shifts, over the course of three days? Probably the single worst thing I ever had to do in my entire life, and I've been in Witch Barriers before. I puked all over myself like some college fratboy at a party the first time I tried to operate on Omegon. Passed out three hours after that.
Not the boss, though. She finished her shift like a champ. Filled up three buckets with vomit afterwards, yeah, and almost didn't make it to her second shift, but she did her job and she did it good. I guess Eversor physiology has its uses, even when you're a doctor. Either way,
I hear footsteps ahead of me. Heels, from the sound of it. I look up—big, billowing greatcoat with skulls on the shoulders, with a neat little Soviet-style cap on her head. Red-rimmed glasses and a pair of eyes that look like they mean business, and a big golden Desert Eagle hanging from a holster at her hip. Our new Warmaster, Chiaki Matsuda, also known as 'Murderface'.
I want to salute, but that's not easy to do when you're giving a...healthy...girl a piggyback ride. 'Sides, ol' Murderface never really was the type to care too much about protocol, anyway.
What does get my attention, though, is a sensation on my back. No, it's not -those things- again. It's something else. It's Asai going rigid, all tense, like a deer in the headlights or someone being caught red-handed.
...she's even making a little squeaking noise. What the hell? Since when did the ultra-professional, never-bothered-by-anything Touno Asai squeak? At anything? What, did Murderface threaten to do ACL surgery on her with an assault rifle? Shit, she's even got her head buried into my right shoulder, away from the passing Warmaster. I turn my head and give her a quick glance.
She's...
She's blushing. Her face is mostly shoved into my surgical smock, so it's a little hard to tell, but I can see it. Red like a cherry.
That's when it clicks for me; she's got it bad. She's got it -real- bad. Oh, I've heard the rumors; Asai has a thing for Murderface, she switched to Venenum after Murderface pulled her ass out of a fire, stuff like that...never really believed them, you know? Asai never really seemed like the type to go for girls like Murderface. Seemed...beneath her, I guess. Didn't make sense. Not much to see in that drunk, trigger-happy asshole. Don't know what that says about that Hanegawa girl, but I figured, Green-hair Funbags was from the Tenth, they're all weird like that. But shit. Asai? For Murderface?
Boss is gripping my shoulders real tight, now. Yeah. She's definitely got it bad—oh my god she's trembling. She's actually trembling.
...
I...I don't really know what to think about all this. Just not used to seeing the boss like this, I guess. But I've got this weird feeling, like, like I'm nervous or tense, or something. Seeing Asai react to the Warmaster like that...
It's just fatigue. Gotta be.
-
So we get to her office. Opening the door was a little tricky—I had to lean over while she grabbed the doorknob herself and pushed it open.
…
Well.
For someone who's always got her act together, her office is a real mess. Papers, files, bits of equipment all over the place. I set her down in her office chair—how I managed not to trip on anything, I don't know—and hand her the pair of glasses she asked me for.
She puts them on, saying she needs them for the paperwork; a nice little pair, with big, round lenses and a wire frame. Might have looked a little dorky on anyone else, but they're really good on—wait. No, no. Get that out of your head, Miyazuki. Say what boss? Cup of water? Right.
Time for me to head off—Omegon's all patched up, but there's a few stiffs to take care of before I get to punch out. I let Asai get to work, but not before saying bye:
“So, boss, guess you've got a thing for the Warmaster, huh?”
And with that, I head for the door.
-
wait
what
What did I just say? What the -fuck- did I just say?
There's a weird choking noise, like someone's getting strangled. Asai pretty much jumps out of her chair. “M-Miyazuki, wait—!”
I...don't really know what she was trying to do. Maybe she lunged at me out of Eversor reflexes, tried to shut me up permanently with her bare hands. Maybe she figured I was gonna run out and blab about it to the rest of the Venenum, so she wanted to stop me and explain. Or maybe she just panicked, I dunno.
Either way, she gets up and starts flailing around, then steps on something—some of the crap she'd left on the floor, maybe it was pen—and she slides out and falls right on her ass. The impact knocks over the big cup of water I just gave her, too, so now she's down AND totally soaked.
It's suddenly really quiet, and really awkward in the office.
She's...jeez...she's just sitting on the floor, like she can't figure out what else to do. Her lab coat's slipped off her shoulders now, her hair's all wet and plastered all over her face and body. Her arms are limp, like she's some kind of puppet and all her strings are cut. The upper part of her dress is soaked, too, and even though the fabric's dark, I can still see the straps of her, uh, yeah. I'm looking at her face, and all that's on there is a dumb look of shock, plus a pair of eyeglasses hanging off her nose.
We stare at each other for a sec. Her, looking at me with that same half-blank look. Me, probably doing the same thing.
Then she starts crying.
Fuck.
She starts off slow, like in those Korean dramas where the girl just kinda sits there and lets a couple tears leak out and slooowly drip down her face. Pretty soon, though, there's sobbing, then hiccups, and then the waterworks turn into a full-on bawl.
I've known Asai for about a year now, and the whole time I've never seen her cry once. Until now. It makes sense, though, I guess. She's, well...she hasn't had the easiest time in the world. Having to deal with a shitstorm like Omegon's surgery just a few days into your new job's gotta suck. Then you have a blabbermouth like me say some really dumb shit right in your face, and, and, then you turn yourself into a slapstick comedy show in front of your subordinate and I guess she just got pushed to her breaking point.
“W-waaaah...”
...jeez, she's even doing that thing where you make your hands into little fists and try and wipe your tears away.
I feel pretty bad. I dunno if it's really my fault, but I feel guilty, somehow. I stand there for a sec, looking really stupid, probably with my mouth hanging open and everything, and I, I guess on instinct, just...just...walk over and start...patting her head.
...yeah. I don't know what I'm doing, either. It makes her stop crying, though, so I keep at it.
Her hair...
Her hair feels...feels really nice. Kinda weird to say it, but it's really soft and silky, even when it's soaked like she just stepped out of the shower. And...warm. Really warm. Like I just stuck my hand into a cat that's been toasting itself on the heater for a while. Like the warmth of a...
Stop looking at me like that, boss. No, stop. Dammit, she's giving me this look, it's like, part bewilderment, part wonder, and it's making me feel super uncomfortable and I really don't know what to do now.
“Miyazuki...”
That snaps me back to reality. I jump back up, almost trip over something on the floor. I bullshit some excuse and start walking as fast as I can out of the office. The whole time, I'm praying hard, real hard, to anyone who'd listen that Asai doesn't say anything or try and stop me as I'm leaving.
If she des, I don't know I can leave.
I throw back one last glance as I almost slam the door shut behind me; she's still sitting there, with a hand on here head where mine just was. Still looking at me with that same expression of wonder and confusion.
Dammit all. I don't need this. I've got work to do. That's what I tell myself as I pretty much run back to the operating room.
The whole time, though, I can still feel her warmth on my hand.
I don't know if it'll ever go away.
