"Cleaning Up" - A Short Snippet (Patreon)

Based on the commission, "Victoria/NB MC fluff."

"...What...happened here?"

You stand in the door to your bedroom, unable to comprehend what you see. Your bed made. Your laundry folded into neat piles on top of the duvet. The trash taken out, the floor vacuumed. You think that your desk has even been wiped down and your windowsills dusted. 

"Eli let me in," Vic says. She's sitting on your bed, looking remarkably pleased with herself. The sun hits her hair just right - you can't help but admire the way it falls around her face, down from its usual ponytail. 

"Right..." 

Vic shrugs. "You told me yesterday you didn't have time to clean up. So, I cleaned up."

You blink, unable to comprehend this information. Someone...willingly cleaned your room? Did your laundry? Washed your bedsheets? The air smells clean and fresh, like detergent. The difference between your room now and the hovel you'd been living in for the past week is...well, not even like night and day. A complete turnaround. 

"Why would you do that for me?" you blurt out, utterly confused. Sure, Eli's done a load of laundry or two for you in the past when you were truly struggling, and yeah - she's also picked up some chores when you're having a particularly hard week - but she's never done something like this. You can't imagine the mundanity of all these domestic tasks. You're not even sure you would do this for anyone, not even someone you loved. 

"You were having a hard week." Vic's eyebrows furrow, and she frowns. "...Did I do something wrong?"

"No!" You shake your head, trying to find the right words. How to describe this sudden swelling in your chest - almost like pain, but, no. You're...relieved. You're unencumbered. You're so grateful you could cry. You might actually be crying. 

"Just...you didn't have to do this for me," you say. "...This isn't your job."

Vic slips off the bed and suddenly you're in her arms, her hand cupping the back of your head. She smells like she always does - woody, with just a hint of hospital scrub soap - and you bury your face in the crook of her neck, your hands fisting her shirt. 

"Hey," Vic murmurs. She combs her fingers through your hair, softly, tenderly, and you feel her lips brush against your temple. "You're okay. You're okay."

You suck in the tiniest breath you can - you're afraid any more, and you might really start sobbing. 

"I've had...a really long week," you croak out. 

Her voice is gentle. "I've got you."