D E M O N H U N T E R

Dozing had soon turned into an unexpected nap, though he occasionally opened his eyes to watch a few minutes of British television, before they ultimately closed again. It seemed his battered body required more rest than he anticipated.

With sleep, came the wearing off of his initial dosage upon leaving the hospital. Suddenly perspiring, pain edging into his senses, Kurtis awakened to find quite the vision before him.

Almost thought he was still dreaming.

“Could be nice,” he mumbled, and used his arms in an attempt to shift himself into a seated position. Trembling limbs struggled, a hand draping across his abdomen as he groaned.

In the dim light, Lara observed his rousing features. Not an uncommon sight, these days, but one she hadn’t tired of.

“Need something?”

A softly furrowed question as she watched his labored movements. He’d had a shot before they left, but that was hours ago. It was about time for dose, less the man felt like gritting through the pain.

With the lifestyles they both led, thankfully neither of them were fazed.

Lara took her leave, his eyes briefly skimming her curvy backside. He hoped that was a prospect she’d keep to.

The two men left alone, Winston pushed again in an attempt to get him to eat something, in which Kurtis declined as politely as he could. He opted for watching a bit of television instead. Only a few minutes in, and already dozy.

It’d be hours before Lara made another appearance. After that aforementioned, lengthy business, she’d took a much needed hot shower and even more necessary meal.

Dressed down in loose pants and a cropped sports top, she let herself after an unanswered tap. Glanced to the still running television turned low, her trim weight settling beside his sleeping form.

His eyelids fluttered, and she hummed.

With sleep, came the wearing off of his initial dosage upon leaving the hospital. Suddenly perspiring, pain edging into his senses, Kurtis awakened to find quite the vision before him.

Almost thought he was still dreaming.

Mouth twisting into a pout-smirk hybrid, Kurtis exhaled as Lara traced that barely-healed wound. A little shiver ran without warning down his spine as his blue gaze fixated on her full lips.

“Didn’t know he came with that feature,” he deadpanned, with a glance to the mild-mannered butler. “Visiting hours later?”

Tossing him a look on her way out, Lara’s full-lipped smile twitched with an eyebrow.

“Could be,” she teased before the door shutting behind her. What followed was Winston’s attempts to make Kurtis more at home.

Kurtis couldn’t muster the urge in the current moment. Nor could he truly argue with a later meal, if they were providing. It seemed a fair compromise.

Voice dropping low, but still loud enough for Winston to hear, Kurtis smirked.

“Might be nice… care to join me?”

Humming with interest, she leaned in, tracing a healing cut near his mouth. Tempting, but Lara knew how to pace herself.

Besides…

Tiredness was far from his thoughts, the initial lull of painkillers wearing off. A palm rested protectively over his abdomen, features tugging into a slight frown. Food seemed entirely unappetizing, especially given the strange pains it suddenly brought. A man could only swallow so much soup and farina.

He felt like he had his own personal chef. And waiter… and doctor… Christ.  This was something else…

“Think I’m good,” he shrugged.

Not at all surprising, the topic of food was something of a struggle - and between his injury and wholly unappetizing meals, Lara couldn’t blame him. Still, the man had to eat.

“You’ll be taking a late supper, then.”

Not a question.

Voice dropping low, but still loud enough for Winston to hear, Kurtis smirked.

Kurtis watched her pose, hands on voluptuous hips.

“Good to know,” he acknowledged, only half-looking at Winston. She was a lot easier on the eyes. “Sure beats being in that hospital.”

A brief shudder, as Winston looked sympathetic. “Do you require anything, sir?”

“Can’t imagine you’re tired,” she mused. “Hungry, maybe? You didn’t eat much before we left.”

Not that his options were terribly varied, considering. That aside, Lara couldn’t really blame his lack of appetite. Still, the man had to keep up his strength.

He felt like he had his own personal chef. And waiter... and doctor... Christ.  This was something else...

Kurtis underestimated plenty of people. She was one of the exceptions.

“My own servant,” Kurtis quipped, tone still monotonous as a freshly-scarred eyebrow rose. “Nice.”

Still, a bit of hands-on help from the lady wouldn’t be discouraged…

He’d find her hands all too happy, provided they weren’t otherwise occupied. Weight shifting, those able fingers perched on her hips.

“Winston is practically an institution,” Lara joked, her own expression mildly arching. “He’ll take good care of you.”

“Good to know,” he acknowledged, only half-looking at Winston. She was a lot easier on the eyes. “Sure beats being in that hospital.”

“Duly noted,” Kurtis said with a shrug, watching as she gave that placid creature a subtle kick. He wondered if she treated all males she came across like that. It wouldn’t surprise him.

Whatever Raoul and her manservant were doing, they were doing it right.

“Him?”

Kurtis may have looked a bit disappointed. Just what he needed.. an old guy touching him.

In her line of work, Lara had to be a little rough, especially when it came to the opposite sex. Men had a way of underestimating a lady.

That didn’t mean she lacked a soft spot, however.

“For your basic needs,” she affirmed. “I’ll be around, of course. Should you need me.”

“My own servant,” Kurtis quipped, tone still monotonous as a freshly-scarred eyebrow rose. “Nice.”

“Just what I always wanted,” Kurtis said, with no amount of snark withheld. “A big, strong man to hold me.”

Arriving at their destination, Kurtis was plopped back down into a rather spacious bed, while Raoul left to retrieve his wheelchair once again. From his seated position at the soft mattress’ edge, Kurtis observed.

It looked like something out of the turn of the century. Rich, velveteen covers, and lush curtains that were drawn to allow light and air in. Bookshelves situated in the corners, a few artifacts decorating. A fireplace, with a couple of armchairs for sitting…. and between them… was that… a grizzly bear?

His attention diverted to the elderly man that had followed, a greeting at last uttered.

“I do hope you’ll enjoy the accommodations, Mister Trent,” he nodded, hands folded. “Oh, and Lara dear… I had all of the medical supplies delivered this morning.” 

Between Lara and Winston, decorative compromises had to be made. The man had been with her a long time, and she was rather soft when it came to his preferences.

As Kurtis observed, she’d moved from her place near the door, the toe of her boot lightly nudging the sprawled pelt.

“Quite harmless I assure you,” she teased. “We met on one of my first outings to Russia. He was quite fond of me.”

Raoul quietly excused himself, her dark head turning a thankful nod towards the aged butler, smile still playing.

“Winston will be attending to you.”

Whatever Raoul and her manservant were doing, they were doing it right.

“Him?”

Kurtis stared up at the massive double staircase, the valuable oil paintings lining the walls. Ancient grandfather clock ticking in the foyer, It looked far more museum than residence.

Upstairs…

It registered a bit late in his fumbling thoughts, Raoul moving again to the side of Kurtis’ seat, scooping him effortlessly once again.

“Of course, Miss Croft.”

Kurtis nearly threw a punch.

“Jesus christ, I’m not crippled, you know.”

She’d went up ahead, already at the top as Raoul hefted and Kurtis protested. Leaning against the polished banister, Lara chuckled. Winston, to his credit, looked unphased.

“Play nice,” she lightly scolded. “And remember that if you get any wild ideas, he’ll be carrying you back.”

Arriving at their destination, Kurtis was plopped back down into a rather spacious bed, while Raoul left to retrieve his wheelchair once again. From his seated position at the soft mattress’ edge, Kurtis observed.

It looked like something out of the turn of the century. Rich, velveteen covers, and lush curtains that were drawn to allow light and air in. Bookshelves situated in the corners, a few artifacts decorating. A fireplace, with a couple of armchairs for sitting.... and between them... was that... a grizzly bear?

His attention diverted to the elderly man that had followed, a greeting at last uttered.

“Sure it is,” he mumbled, as Raoul approached, helping him from the cot and into his wheelchair. Not quite, at least not for Kurtis.

He wasn’t on enough drugs for this.

When he was situated once again, doomed to his wheeled seat, Kurtis’ expression went from a scowl at the pilot’s unasked for aid, to something a bit more wide-eyed as he took in the grand expanse of Lara’s home.

“Holy shit,” he said, not caring that it was the first impression for what appeared to be her housekeeper. “So much for humble abode…”

With an extra set of capable hands, Lara didn’t see the need to busy her own. Leaving Kurtis’ side, she dragged her fingers along the wood carved rail, taking the first couple of rug draped steps.

“We try,” she smirked, briefly, in Winston’s poised direction. “I won’t be too far away, in case you need anything.”

In case he tried anything lacking intelligence.

“Raoul, if you would?”

Upstairs...

It registered a bit late in his fumbling thoughts, Raoul moving again to the side of Kurtis’ seat, scooping him effortlessly once again.

“Of course, Miss Croft.”

Kurtis nearly threw a punch.

Rain seemed to be coming sooner than expected.

After Lara had planted a kiss, and resettled on their relatively short flight to England, they chit-chatted before Kurtis found himself dozing.

Some time later, the slight bounce of the helicopter landing jolted him back into consciousness, palms finding his midsection. He made an attempt at sitting up, a slight groan escaping as he rolled onto his side instead.

“What’d I miss?” he asked, deadpan.

“Solid ground.”

Leaving Kurtis’ exit to Raoul, who was wearing the same tight smile, Lara went on ahead. Greeted the gray man in the pressed suit with a kiss on the cheek and a fond look.

The bedroom their extended guest would be occupying had been prepped for actual living, instead of the showcase it mostly was.

“Welcome home,” she said as he was wheeled through the well kept grounds, past the fish decorated fountain, a hand idle on the back of the mobile chair. Indoors was just as impressive, her many exploits on display, with a grand staircase at the center. 

He wasn’t on enough drugs for this.

When he was situated once again, doomed to his wheeled seat, Kurtis’ expression went from a scowl at the pilot’s unasked for aid, to something a bit more wide-eyed as he took in the grand expanse of Lara’s home.

Kurtis shrugged the best he could on his back, looking up at her playful features as she broke their kiss.

“Guess I can’t argue with that,” he said, his own smirk lingering. “Sure you don’t wanna join me?”

The cot was small, but with the right positioning, she could probably lay beside him. It was worth a shot.

“I’ll take a rain check.”

A commendable try, though. He got a peck for it before she moved completely, returning to her earlier seat. The rest of the flight went by relatively uneventful, although Lara was keenly reminded.

Making sure Kurtis didn’t overestimate himself was going to be a bit of a chore in the larger space that was the Croft Estate. He wouldn’t be bed-bound forever.

When they arrived, it was an overcast sky that hung over Surrey.

After Lara had planted a kiss, and resettled on their relatively short flight to England, they chit-chatted before Kurtis found himself dozing.

Some time later, the slight bounce of the helicopter landing jolted him back into consciousness, palms finding his midsection. He made an attempt at sitting up, a slight groan escaping as he rolled onto his side instead.