#gracexkit

Put ( ˘ ³˘) to kiss a wound on my muse || Limited

Grace & Kit

“It’s nothing,” Kit murmured softly, staring straight ahead as Grace pressed a q tip with peroxide into the gash on his forehead.  It followed the line of his eyebrow, accompanied with a purpling bruise just under his eye that would swell shut before the night was over.  Another bruise on his jaw, and a gash on the inside of his lip.  

“That’s an awful lot of nothing,” Grace chastised warmly, working on cleaning the wounds that adorned his face, bruises on his knuckles forgotten until his gaze looked at the assortment of colors his hands had changed.  “Paul should really hire some security.”

He knew it was true, but getting Paul to do anything more than a line of cocaine and a hooker in the backroom while leaving Kit in charge of the place was like pulling teeth.  “Easier said than done.  Kit Thomas Myers, bartender, chemistry major, security extraordinaire...”  He muttered bitterly before going silent again, lost in his thoughts of how the fight broke out.  She picked a piece of beer bottle from the gash.  “I think that’s it.  It needs stitches, Kit.”

“Not going,” He muttered defiantly as he shifted and finally looked at her, “it’s not that bad..”  Though he couldn’t see it.  He expects her to fuss more, to drag him kicking and screaming to the nearest urgent care.  Instead, he’s awarded with the most tender of kisses, dusting the swelling of his eye, the knot on his jaw, even the gash on his lip that still tasted like wet pennies in his mouth.