#reyner

I mean look! They have such cute interactions (the third conversation isn't documented, unfortunately)

 "I've been hearing about someone's sore shoulder," he raised an eyebrow at the hoarseness in your voice. You coughed slightly, attempting to clear it. You hadn’t spoken to many people today, besides a few words of praise to your dog, so maybe it was hoarse out of non-use.

 "Well”, he scratched his arm, “maybe it has flared up a bit again, but I didn't intend to drag you out on this dismal day."

 “I'm here now, though. Shall we?" She gestured to his stool behind the counter and he thankfully didn't offer a retort. Reyner sat down, facing away from you before lifting his apron straps over his head and folding it up on the counter. He then unbuttoned the top half of his shirt, dropping it down from his shoulders, revealing his toned and muscular back. You remembered the first time you’d seen him topless feeling your stomach flip, but this time your head felt too foggy to think of anything but the job at hand. You’d retrieved the jar and set about unscrewing the lid, before dipping four fingers in the pot and scooping up the cream before setting out rubbing the warming ointment across his shoulders. You felt him tense at your touch at first but soon relaxed, even letting out an exhale. You spent a few minutes rubbing it in, focusing hard on your work.

 “I admit it does feel much better after that.” He spoke up, breaking your concentration. It probably was just more of a poor massage at that point.

 "Remember to take it easy and reapply as necessary." You lectured, removing your hand from his shoulders in a signal that you were finally done.

"I will, carpenter's honour." He stood up from the stool and started to button his shirt back up as you went to screw the lid back on the tub, or at least attempted to. Suddenly, you felt horribly dizzy. The room seemed to spin relentlessly for a moment or two, and the tub dropped from your hand, rolling on its side on the wooden floor. You clutched your head, rubbing your temples and the world set itself to right.

"Whoa, you all right there?" Reyner asked. Was that concern in his voice? He bent down, picking up the tub and placing it on the counter. Luckily, you noted, the contents had stayed put. You really had no strength to go out and forage for more ingredients tonight.

"Yes, I’m fine,” you replied, curtly. “I think I’m just feeling a little tired. I should head home..." You were embarrassed now and you just wanted out of there. You could just hear Reyner at the inn later on, spinning a yarn about the weird Chemist again. You went to pick up your bag when, once again, the whole world flipped and your balance totally abandoned you. Bracing yourself to go crashing down to the floor, you were surprised when the pain didn’t come and arms were now encircling you.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" 

If you’d been thinking clearly at the moment, you would’ve noticed that that was one of the handful of times he’d ever said your name. "I'm fine, sorry – I must’ve misstepped." You tried to free yourself from his grip – you were absolutely humiliated - but he stayed firm, before he span you round and forced you down onto the stool by pushing down on your shoulders, placing the back of his hand against your forehead.

"Liar. You're burning up. That’s it.” Suddenly, an arm was around your back and another under your knees and you found yourself up in Reyner’s arms.

"No!” You protested. “Put me down – you need to rest your shoulder. I’m fine.”

"Allow me to look after you for once, Chemist." He scolded, holding firm.

You didn’t respond to that - it would be nice to be looked after. Ever since you had arrived in town there had been suspicious and mean looks. Though maybe one or two people had begun to warm to you, you were positive they wouldn't bat an eye if you just decided to leave one night.

You allowed yourself to relax slightly in his arms, all the sudden becoming aware of how warm you did feel. What a bad chemist, brushing off your own symptoms. What use were you to anyone else if you couldn’t even look after yourself? Seeing that you’d somewhat settled, Reyner had made up his mind. He started walking towards the staircase at the back of the shop. He carried you up the stairs, through his apartment before depositing you gently down on his bed. This was awkward, you shouldn’t be here.

"Reyner, you're very kind, but I'll be fine by myself at home." You went to swing a leg out of the bed before he pushed your shoulders back down into the heavenly soft pillows.

"Nonsense. I can't send you home in your condition in the pouring rain, Y/N. You can rest here, be a good patient like I was for you.”

You could’ve scoffed at that, but you’d also be a liar if you didn't admit his bed was comfortable, far more than your own. The cottage was a state – musty, creaky, drafty, dusty – all things you knew they'd hoped that would drive you out of town in a way. That's why you worked so late most of the time, to make sure you felt worn out enough to fall asleep in that depressing room.  You watched as he walked over to the kitchen and retrieved a glass out of the cupboard, before filling it up with water. A thought sprang to mind.

“No, I have to go, my dog’s outside…” You went to sit up again but his glare sent you leaning back as he walked back over with the glass and placed it on the table besides you.

“I’ll let them in, they can sleep in the workshop. Stay there – I’m serious.” You watched as he headed back towards the staircase and heard his heavy footsteps descending. You suppose it would be nice to close your eyes for a moment. Maybe that’s all you needed, a moment’s rest just to reclaim your strength and clear your head, then you could head home and forget about all this embarrassing incident altogether...

Reyner had got your dog settled downstairs and spied your satchel abandoned next to the stool – maybe there was something in there that could help. He went to pick it up and was immediately surprised by the weight of the thing. Curious, he peeked inside and saw numerous labelled bottles nestled inside, alongside with what looked like your foraging spoils for the day. His respect had grown for you and your work over the past few weeks – that he had to admit. He'd seen you head out early every morning to the fields to collect ingredients. You often didn’t return until the late afternoon, popping into the bathhouse before heading back out again until late. It seemed tireless work, even more so when he considered how ungrateful most of the town had been.

 He lifted up your satchel and carried it up the stairs. "So, Chemist, advise your trainee what treatment you require."

 He expected a sarcastic retort but none came – you were fast asleep on his bed. He chose his steps wisely as he walked back over to the bed, avoiding the floorboards he knew to be particularly creaky, and placed the satchel down at the end of it. Then, he slowly took it upon himself to unlace your boots and gently removed them, before at last placing the thin blanket over your sleeping form.