McCoy had been sitting alone in his dorm studying all night. Jamie had wanted him to go out with her, but the test he had the next day was too important for him to waste the night on fun. He was just finishing up and thinking of going to bed when the phone rang. He sighed tiredly, but reached over to answer it, even though he was tempted to let it ring.
"McCoy," he said as he answered.
"Hey man, it's John from the bar?" said the voice on the other side of the phone.
He racked his brains to place the voice and ended up with an image of a young blond man who was the bartender of Jamie's favorite bar.
"Yeah, hey John. What's up?" McCoy asked, while stifling a yawn.
"Um… Jamie is here," John started saying, and McCoy stood looking for his jacket. "And she's pretty drunk, and she just got into a fight," John finished saying over the noise.
He groaned. "Is she okay?" he asked a little worried.
"Yeah, just a little banged up. But she's lying with her face on my bar and keep saying, "Call Bones, he'll fix me," and I figured you're Bones?" John asked. His voice said that he was pretty sure he'd guessed right.
"Yeah," McCoy sighed while walking out the door. "That's me."
The bar was situated not far from the dorms. That was probably why it was so popular among the Starfleet cadets. But the bar, which was usually brimming with life, was silent when McCoy arrived ten minutes later.
"Slow crowd today?" he asked John ironically. The bartender was standing behind the bar cleaning a wineglass. He did not look happy.
He shook his head. "I threw them all out. I have a no fighting policy."
McCoy nodded in agreement. This was why he liked this bar. It was run by sensible people, and McCoy liked sensible people.
Looking around the empty bar, he tried to spot Jamie, but didn't find her. "So, where is the young miss?" he asked.
John threw his head in the direction of the corner where the sofas were placed. McCoy followed the motion and saw a dark lump curled up on the sofa in the corner. He mocked-saluted and walked over to where his best friend lay snoring softly.
Surveying the damage on Jamie's face he summarized that the fight must have been pretty bad. He wondered idly what had started it this time. She probably gave worse than she got, but he thought that at least one of the cuts would need stitching.
Mentally sighing he looked over the rest of her and decided that nothing was broken, just badly bruised. Why did he have to befriend someone who got herself into so much trouble all the time? It was mentally exhausting!
He sat down next to her and gently shook her awake.
"Mmmm… I wanna sleep, leave me alone," she mumbled.
"Jamie, get up, we're going home," he said sternly.
At the sound of his voice she opened her eyes and grinned stupidly at him. "Bones! I knew you'd come and fix me!" She was clearly drunk. Then the grin fell from her face. "My face hurts!" she said pouting.
She looked so ridiculous and sincere he had to bite back a laugh. "Yeah, that's what happens when you fight," he said slowly, as if talking to a child.
It didn't seem like she was listening to what he said because she continued to say, "But I told them that Bones could fix it!" She nodded firmly, as if agreeing with herself.
He snorted. Her blind confidence of his abilities warmed his heart, but if that helped her conscience when rushing stupidly into fights, he'd have to tell her that he would quit patching her up after fights if she didn't stop. "Sit still so I can look at your cuts."
At his demand she sat so still he was unsure if she was even breathing. None of her cuts were as bad as he had first feared and it seemed she would escape stitching this time. He knew how she hated needles. But she would have some awful bruises in the morning, that was for sure.
"Let's go," he said and pulled her up from the sofa. She wobbled and fell into him.
"Oops!" she giggled.
He rolled his eyes and sighed. Securing his grip on her arm he half carried, half dragged her out of the bar.
The night air was cool and he hoped that it would help clear Jamie's head. Her gait was wobbly and she couldn't walk without leaning heavily on him. After the fifth stumble in ten paces he growled in frustration before lifting her up on his back and started walking back to the dorms in a much faster speed.
Laughing at the top of her lungs, she threw back her head and whooped. "What's the hurry, Bones?" she asked.
"I have a test tomorrow. I should not be here babysitting you, but back in my bed getting a good night's sleep!" he grumbled.
"Totally forgot about your test, Bones," she slurred. "Sorry," she apologized and leaned her head against his neck. He upped the pace.
After a few minutes she asked, "Do I have a test tomorrow?"
"Good. Don't think I'd do any good," she said sleepily against his shoulder.
He reached his dorm five minutes later. He'd chosen his room for two reasons. One, it was the closest to the bar and Jamie was heavy. Two, he did not have a room-mate so nobody would be bothered by having a drunk Jamie intruding on their sleep, like her poor room-mate.
Throwing her down on the bed she hit it with a dull thump. On impact she screamed "I was sleeping!" in protest.
He raised an eyebrow that clearly said, "And I should care why?"
She glared at him for a moment, but when that clearly took too much strength she rolled over and put her hand over her eyes.
The room was quiet and McCoy thought she was asleep so he took off his jacket and started to shut off the lights when she bolted from the bed and ran into the adjoining bathroom. He sighed when he heard the sounds of her throwing up. He rolled up his sleeves and walked in after her.
Gathering up her hair and holding it back from her face he sat down next to her and rubbed her back absently. "This is why you need girlfriends, Jamie. Isn't this what girlfriends are supposed to do? Hold back your hair when you throw up?" he complained.
"What do I need that for when I have you?" she asked looking at him miserably. Then she widened her eyes and said in her best valley-voice, "You make, like, the best girlfriend ever! You wanna braid my hair later?" Before turning around and dry-heaving into the toilet again.
He rolled his eyes, but smiled at her antics. At least she was a little more sober. She was never sarcastic when drunk. Leaving her with her back against the wall he went to get her a glass of water.
The clock turned four am before he got her into bed and he could finally get some sleep. His test, which was scheduled at ten the next morning, made it even harder for him to sleep.
Thankfully, his bed was large and didn't matter much to him to share it with a Jamie who was all limbs when she slept.
He looked at her fondly. He guessed this was what it meant to be someone's best friend. Pick them up when they got drunk off their ass in the middle of the night? At least he knew she would do the same for him if he ever needed her too.
It was the middle of the night and he was fast asleep when his phone rang.
"What!" he snapped into the receiver.
There was a beat of silence and then… "Are you… Bones?"
McCoy frowned in suspicion and confusion. "Who the hell wants to know?" he demanded.
"My name is Bill Cade and I found a sleeping girl at the side of the road."
That certainly got his attention. He sat up straight. "What?" he asked in case he had heard the man wrong.
"And well, her dog-tag says she's J.T Kirk and she had your number on her so… I'm calling you," Bill Cade continued. "Do you know her?"
"Yes, I do," McCoy said with a sigh. "Is she okay?" he asked worried. How the hell did she end up on the side of the road?
"Um… Yeah, I think so. She's drunk though, I think," Bill Cade said unsure. "You coming to get her, man? I really need to be somewhere." His voice was nervous.
"Yeah, of course I'm coming!" McCoy snapped. "Where the fuck are you?"
He was given the directions and thirty minutes later McCoy found Jamie sitting, with her back against a big rock, at the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere.
Walking quickly out of the car he picked her up from the cold ground and she sighed with relief when she saw it was him. He could see that she'd been crying.
"Oh, Jamie. What the hell happened?" he asked softly as he helped her into the warm car.
She hugged him tightly before silently getting into the front seat. She was quiet as he started driving and he looked over at her worriedly every few minutes when she still didn't speak.
"Jamie?" he carefully asked.
She gazed at him with sad eyes. "You know what day it is today?" she asked with a voice that was devoid of all emotion.
He thought about it hard, but couldn't come up with anything that would make her this upset. "No, I'm afraid I don't," he answered truthfully.
"It's my birthday," Jamie said, not meeting his eyes. McCoy's heart sank. Why hadn't she told him? "And the anniversary of my father's death. Got a nice voice message from my mother. How considerate of her. She forgot last year."
"And I just didn't want to think about it, so I went to the bar. And I met this guy," she continued to say. "And then I must have done something, because the next thing I remember is him kicking me out of his car."
Listening to her speak made him clench the steering wheel harder and harder until his knuckles were white. He gritted his teeth in anger. Not knowing what to say he simply took hold of her hand and squeezed it tightly.
"You should have told me," he said. "I would have looked after you while you drank yourself into oblivion."
"Would you?" she asked.
He looked at her as if she was stupid. "Yes, of course I would. Promise me that I never have to pick you up at the side of some road in the middle of nowhere again!" His voice, which had started out soft ended up with an angry plea.
He had been afraid when he heard how far away she'd been. What could have happened if someone hadn't stopped and called him? He shuddered to think.
She smiled softly. "I promise to try really hard?" The statement turned into a question.
He shook his head in exasperation and chuckled lightly. "Let's get you home."
He sat down on a bench when his phone rang. The number was unknown and since not many people called him he quickly answered.
"Hello?" he answered.
"McCoy! My man!" said the jovial voice of his buddy Will. Will was in many of the same medical classes as him and was an intern at the Starfleet Hospital.
"Will!" McCoy said happily. "What can I do for you?"
"I was wondering if you're the owner of a feisty blonde who sleeps around, drinks a lot and has minor anger issues?" Will asked lightly. Once upon a time a long time ago Will had been crazy about Jamie. Jamie on the other hand thought he was cute and worth a fuck but that was that.
McCoy roared with laughter. "What has she done now?"
Will's answer was a little more serious. "She's here, man."
His smile froze. "Is she alright?" McCoy demanded.
"A couple of broken ribs and she has a concussion," was the sombre answer. "She's still unconscious," Will added.
"Fuck!" McCoy swore. Could she never keep herself out of trouble? He looked around, suddenly unsure of what to do. He had one more class, but fuck, Jamie was in the hospital! "Thanks for calling me," he said to Will.
"Thought you'd like to know," Will said.
"Yeah, I'll be there as soon as I can," he said, before standing up and walking to his dorm as quickly as he could.
McCoy had barely managed to change out of his uniform before his phone rang again. He looked at it with a puzzled expression for a second; he wasn't used to be called this often.
"This is McCoy," he answered while buttoning up his favorite plaid flannel shirt. If he was going to spend the rest of the day at the hospital he needed to be comfortable.
"Am I speaking with Doctor Leonard McCoy?" The crisp voice of a woman asked.
"Yes, that's me," he said with a slight frown.
"I am Nurse Campbell and I'm calling from the Starfleet Hospital," she introduced herself. "I am calling to inform you that a Miss Jamie Kirk has been committed with three broken ribs and a severe concussion. She is still not conscious and since you are listed as her next of kin, we need you to come and sign some papers," she said automatically. It seemed like she was reading it from a list and her voice was devoid all emotion.
McCoy hadn't listened very carefully since Will had already told him this, but something caught his attention. "Back up a minute!" he exclaimed.
There was a beat of silence before Nurse Campbell said tersely, "What do you mean, Doctor McCoy?"
"I'm listed as her next of kin?" he asked curiously, this being news to him.
"Ye-es," the nurse said slowly. "Is this incorrect, sir?" she added.
"No, no. It's quite alright," he said with a private smile. "Where will I have to go to sign these important papers?" he asked on his way out the door.
After signing a mountain of papers, many he was sure the hospital really didn't need, he was finally taken to Jamie's room. Outside her room sat a couple of her classmates, one whom was Gaila, Uhura's room-mate, who jumped up when she spotted him.
"Thank god, you're here," she said, her eyes wide with worry. "The doctors won't tell us anything!" she said shrilly.
He patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. "She has three broken ribs, a bad concussion and still unconscious," he said, giving it to them straight. "It's nothing to worry about."
Gaila sighed in relief, but then tensed again. "But she hasn't woken up!"
"It's perfectly normal. Nothing to worry about." Unless she doesn't wake up soon, then we can start worry, he thought to himself.
His words seemed to soothe her though, and he managed to convince her to sit down.
"Now can anyone tell me what actually happened?" he asked forcefully.
Gaila exchanged a look with the blonde girl sitting next to her.
McCoy raised an eyebrow.
Gaila sighed and said with a voice so low he had to strain his ears to hear her, "She fell off a cliff."
Sitting perfectly still for a moment he processed what the green girl had just said. "She fell off a cliff?" he repeated incredulously.
Both girls nodded.
He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. He looked towards he closed door where Jamie lied unconscious. Looking back at the girls he said tiredly, "I'm going to go and sit with Jamie. You two should go home. I'll call when she wakes up."
They nodded and stood up to leave. He watched them go before opening the door and walking in to see Jamie.
The first he heard was the beeping sound of the machine she was hooked up to. Her face was cut and bruised. They were worse than any injury he had ever seen her have before.
Seeing her like this let loose the ball of fear that had lodged itself in the pit of his stomach when Will had first called. Never, through the two years he'd known her, had she ever been this badly hurt or unconscious for so long. And logically he knew that her head needed time to recover, but it scared him nevertheless.
God! And he'd foolishly thought that at least this weekend he hadn't had to worry about her safety. But no! On a fucking Starfleet regulated boot-camp she had to go and find a way to hurt herself.
He was too damn old to babysit a twenty-three year-old girl, but he couldn't seem to stop caring.
Hell, he couldn't deny it anymore, at least not to himself. He loved her. That stupid fool of a girl held his heart and now he had to sit here and worry his heart out until she woke up.
Her hand was warm and sweaty. If she could just wake up and he could yell at her he would feel so much better.
He sat in the chair beside her bed. It was old and uncomfortable and he kept changing positions trying without success to find a comfortable way to sit. Every thirty minutes or so he would stand up to stretch his tired back and take a turn about the room. He watched the sky getting darker outside the window and briefly thought of the class he was missing, before going back to worrying about Jamie.
At midnight he fell asleep. An hour later someone hit him over the head.
"Bones, please wake up," Jamie pleaded. Her voice was small and rough.
He snapped awake immediately. The first thing he saw was her big blue eyes looking at him. He cracked a relieved smile. "You're awake," he sighed.
"Yeah," she said weakly. "My head hurts like a bitch, though."
Chuckling, he stood up and stretched. "Do you remember what happened?"
A thoughtful expression appeared on her face until it was exchanged with a horrified one. "You're mad, aren't you?" Jamie asked, instead of answering the question. Then she hissed in pain and gently touched her face to feel the injuries.
A grim expression took over his face and he nodded. "Yeah, a bit," he said. Then he smiled, "But we're not going to talk about that now," he said with authority. "You are going to sleep and maybe we'll talk about it tomorrow."
"But I'm not tired," she said through a yawn.
He raised an eyebrow that said, "Either you're going to sleep on your own, or I'm going to Hypospray you!"
She pouted for a while, and then she surrendered with a sigh and said, "Will you stay?"
McCoy looked at her with loving eyes and said, "Of course."
A sigh of relief escaped her and she closed her eyes. "I guess I can sleep then, knowing you're looking after me." A moment later she was snoring.
McCoy settled back for an uncomfortable night in the lumpy chair.
It took a few days before they could properly sit down and talk about what had happened. When the concussion wasn't so bad and the ribs were healing nicely. She was still at the hospital. The Starfleet Hospital had gotten orders from the highest hold at the Academy to not release her until she was completely healed. McCoy suspected Captain Pike might've had something to do with it.
"It's so fucking annoying!" Jamie moaned the fourth day she was confined to bed. "I'm almost healed!"
McCoy gave her a look over his paper and raised a sceptic eyebrow.
"Well, it only hurts when I laugh," she lied.
He knew she lied and said so. "And when you bend over, lift your right arm, swallow and you still can't sleep on your stomach like you usually do," he drawled.
She huffed and crossed her arms before wincing since that hurt too. He smirked.
"Shouldn't you be feeling sorry for me?" she whined.
"I did until I heard you threw yourself off a cliff," he said in a bored tone.
"I didn't throw myself off a cliff!" she exclaimed. "I fell!"
"I know. But the end result is still the same. You're an idiot. Nobody else fell off a cliff," he said deadpanned.
"It was so small you can hardly call it a cliff," she said. "It was more like a slightly steep hill."
Rolling his eyes he said, "Whatever."
Jamie giggled, "Whatever? I did not know that word existed in your vocabulary, Doctor McCoy!"
He glared at her. "It didn't. But then I met this annoying girl who throws herself off cliffs, and suddenly I start using it without meaning to," he growled and went back to reading his newspaper.
She doubled over with laughter. Then she winced because that hurt too.
Cleaning out his closet had turned out to be more of a job than he'd first thought. He didn't remember bringing this many clothes in the beginning of the year… The answer was of course that throughout the year Jamie had kept bringing him clothes she insisted he wear and without him realizing it she had filled up his closet with the latest men's fashion.
The phone rang just when he had packed up most of his shirts.
"Yeah, this is McCoy," he said into the receiver.
"McCoy! Could you please come and get your girlfriend before she vomits all over my car!?" a girl's voice screeched. McCoy whipped the phone away from his ear in surprise.
"Who the hell is this?" he demanded.
There was a moment of silence. "Sorry. It's Grenda," she introduced herself. He immediately recognized her voice.
Grenda was one of Jamie's on and off friends. One week they would be the best of friends and the next, Grenda was spreading vicious rumours about Jamie, and Jamie was egging Grenda's car.
"Can't you drive her home yourself?" he asked.
"No!" she said forcefully, and McCoy could almost hear the eye roll. "I'm not driving that drunken bitch anywhere! I'm ditching her here." Then her voice turned flirtatious, "I just thought I'd be nice enough to tell you where she is so she doesn't get hit by a car or something."
McCoy scowled. "You're a bitch Grenda," he growled. "Where are you leaving her?"
There were several reasons why McCoy found it necessary to get a car. One was that sometimes he just needed to get away from the city and the damn academy. Two was Jamie loved road trips. Three was to be able to pick Jamie up wherever she was drunkenly thrown away.
Fifteen minutes later he found Jamie. She was throwing up at the side of the road. Stopping the car he honked twice and opened the door. "Get in!" he shouted.
She crawled her way into the car. With a dull thump she managed to sit somewhat straight in the passenger seat. He threw her a pitying look, before driving back to the dorms.
Jamie's room had always surprised him in how clean it always was. When he first met her he clearly got the vibe that she would be one to live in chaos, like him. But when he first stepped inside it was shockingly clean. He later learned that this was in no effect her own doing, but her slightly OCD room mate Liv.
Liv was a small, pale, nervous girl, with a venomous glare and a glowing hatred for anything unclean. She also hated McCoy. The feeling was mutual. That was why he never spent much time in Jamie's dorm. Whenever they hung out they always did so in McCoy's room. It was the most logical since he didn't have a room mate and Jamie had one who hated her best friend and wouldn't let them drink in her presence.
Parking the car as close to the dorm as he could, McCoy cut the engine and walked around to help a dozing Jamie Kirk out of her seat.
"Wake up," he said roughly and shook her awake. He then took a firm grip on her waist and hoisted her out when she didn't move.
Turning around when her feet hit the pavement she hurled into the ditch at the side of the road. McCoy pulled a face.
"Let's get you inside so you can throw up into a toilet."
She nodded numbly and let him help her inside.
The dorm was in an irregular state of disarray. Looking around in surprise he wondered if Liv had gone on strike or something. He remembered several times where Jamie had stormed into his room ranting about how she couldn't even eat a rice-cake without her room mate going mental, vacuuming everything in sight and counting every crumb!
He put her on the couch and looked around for a clean glass. Finding one under an old newspaper he filled it with water and promptly threw it in her face.
She shot up sputtering and wiping her face, and then she sent him a glare that promised a painful death. "What the flying fuck did you do that for?" she demanded.
He lazily raised an eyebrow. "You finished with trying to throw up the lining of your stomach?" he asked sardonically.
She glared at him and said slowly, "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you."
Pulling off her wet t-shirt, McCoy quickly looked away and said, "What's happened to your room?"
Answering with her head in her closet she said, "Oh, that. Liv had to leave early, so all this shit is mine. I wonder what she would do if she ever saw the room in this state?"
He chuckled. She turned around and pulled on a sweatshirt he could've sworn was his. At his questioning stare she said flippantly, "I stole it!"
Rolling his eyes with exasperation he turned and threw some books off the sofa so he could sit down. "You sure you're okay?" he asked, scrutinizing her.
Shifting her eyes, avoiding his gaze she said, "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"
"Oh, I don't know," McCoy said sarcastically, "Maybe because you're getting drunk in the middle of the day?"
Jamie hugged herself tightly and sat down in the chair opposite the couch. "Oh, that's nothing. I just ran into Grenda and one drink turned into more than one drink," she said with a shrug, trying to sound carefree.
McCoy wasn't buying it and raised one doubting eyebrow. "Jamie, what's wrong?" he asked softly, leaning towards her.
She looked around the room, anywhere but him and said, "I don't know where I'm gonna go this summer. My mom's off planet and there's no way in hell I'm going home to my step-father," She said it all in one breath and looked so tired and sad when she finished.
Frowning, McCoy let out a big sigh. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, feeling a little hurt that she hadn't confided in him sooner.
Her big blue eyes looked like they where battling tears when she said in a choked voice, "You were so excited about seeing Joanna again, and I didn't want to upset or worry you." The honesty in her voice broke his heart.
He went over to her and quickly enveloped her in big warm hug. Together they sat in the too small chair and he let her cry into his shirt. He stroked her hair and muttered nonsense into her ear until she calmed down.
"You stupid girl," he said.
Her head whipped up to look at him. "What?"
"If you'd just talked to me I would've told you that I'd be more than happy to let you come home with me."
"Really?" Her voice was small.
"Yeah," he nodded. "Besides, Joanna is dying to meet you."
A giant grin appeared on her face. "You'll let me meet Joanna? But you've said over and over again about what a bad influence I'd be on her…"
McCoy laughed. "Well, yeah. Together you'll probably kill me. But Joanna specifically told me to bring you home."
Jamie hugged him tight. "Thank you, Bones. Thank you so much."
He dimly heard someone knocking on the door through his drunken stupor and rolled off the couch, yelling "Coming, coming," as he slowly made his way to make the knocking stop.
"What!?" he demanded as he violently opened up the door.
The first thing he saw was a big unopened whisky bottle and then he managed to focus on the female that was holding the bottle. "Let me in," Jamie commanded. "You're not doing this alone," was all she said before she forced her way through the doorway and into his dirty dorm.
He looked stupidly after her for a moment before remembering to close the door.
"What the hell are you doing here, Jamie?" he asked. He ran his fingers through his dirty hair before walking tiredly back to the couch and his beer can. Taking a sip, he gave her his best glare which didn't seem to faze her at all as she made herself comfortable on his bed.
"Do you remember what you told me on my birthday?" she asked, cocking her head to one side.
He lifted his eyebrows as if to say 'what has that to do with anything?'
After a moment of silence she answered her own question; "You said that I should've told you and you would've looked after me while I drank myself into a stupor." She gave him meaningful look.
He was still clueless to what she was getting at and told her so.
She sighed and threw her hands up in the air. "I'm here to look after you while you drink yourself into a stupor you idiot!"
He shrugged. "Stay or leave, I don't care." He leaned back and took a big gulp of his mediocre beer. "But you drink if you stay!" He pointed at her.
"Sure!" she said and opened the whisky and took a great sip. "Let's get smashed, Bones."
Three hours later had both of them lying on McCoy's bed, their heads side by side in the middle. Jamie was giggling, but for the life of him he couldn't remember what had been so funny. He took another sip of the half empty whisky-bottle and handed it to her.
"I don't understand how anyone can cheat on you, Bones," Jamie said after the silence had lasted a while.
The hurt in his heart had been considerably dulled by all the alcohol, but it still stung a little hearing her words. "She's a bitch," he answered, his voice hoarse.
"Yeah," Jamie said and handed the bottle back to him. He took it gratefully. "Look on the bright side," she said, her tone cheerful. "Had you never divorced her, you would never have met me!"
He laughed and rolled over to meet her eyes. She did the same and something fell out of her shirt. He reached over and took a hold of her necklace. "What's this?" he asked, changing the subject.
Grateful that she took the hint, she answered, "It's my dog-tag." She sat up, slipped it off her neck and handed it to him.
"Why do you have dog-tags?" he asked, running his hand over the engraved J.T Kirk.
"When I was about ten I became obsessed with 21st century war movies, so for my birthday my mom gave me my own dog-tag." Her voice was soft with a memory from faraway and her face was a smile full of love.
Smiling at her happiness he looked down again and realized that there was second inscription on the back of the tag. This was newer and on it, it stood: "Call Bones" and his phone number.
For a moment he was stunned and just looked at it in shock. Then he cleared his throat and looked over at Jamie who was happily staring at the ceiling. "Jamie?"
"Hmm?" she answered lazily turning her head towards him.
"What's this?" he asked, showing her the dog-tag.
She grinned at him. "You never wondered why people kept calling you when they found me?" she asked.
She nodded towards the tag. "That's why."
"But, Jamie, why?" he asked.
"Because I don't want to be lost," she said softly. "And because I know that if I call you, you will come get me. You won't let me get lost."
He looked at her with all the love he owned and said truthfully, "Never. I'll always come."
A few tears escaped her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. "That's why you're so wonderful." They were lying nose to nose and he reached out and dried her tears with his thumb.
Looking deep into her eyes he kissed her lightly on the lips. She looked at him with wonder for a second before leaning in and kissing him back. A sigh escaped her and he smiled in relief. She might just want him too. Kissing her again for a few minutes he pulled her to him and embraced her.
It was late and they were both drunk and tired. With her nuzzled in his embrace they both fell asleep together.