CHAPTER ELEVEN: WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW
song of the chapter: margaret, lana del rey & bleachers

Evan Buckley is nothing if not stubborn.

You would think after knowing each other for several months that Indiana would have picked up on this, but given the circumstance that she now finds herself in, the observation must have slipped her mind.

"Buck," she calls out, for what feels like the thousandth time. "Come and sit down before you collapse from overworking yourself."

From the kitchen, Buck responds, "I'm good. Thanks, though!"

It is the exact response that he has given her every time that Indiana has attempted to summon him for the past four hours. The only indicator that he's still with her in the house is his lacklustre responses and the clattering of pots and pans.

Indiana is an independent woman. She likes her time alone, loves to curl up on the couch with her laptop and read through her students English projects as her evening newspaper. She is at peace alone, with the sound of Clover's light snores and the soft sound of The Supremes coming from her record player.

However.

If there is going to be someone in her house, then Indiana would like them to be in the room with her. She's sick half to death of sitting on this couch like Henry the Eight, waiting for one of her many servants to come and spoon feed her dinner.

And listen, if Indiana could get off of this couch and drag Buck to the living room, then she would. Alas, she is very much compromised, what with the casts and bandages on varying parts of her body. She's laid up on the couch like an unholy version of the mummified Cleopatra, barely able to twitch her fingers enough to click a button on the television remote.

Dragging Buck here by force to lay with her is nothing but a pipe dream, so if she wants to see his face sometime before the sun goes down, she's going to have to resort to drastic measures.

A few centimetres away from her, Indiana's metal water bottle sits idle. Next to it, the silly little red service bell that Buck insisted she ring 'only in a state of emergency'. The bell has the words 'RING FOR SEX!!!' emblazoned on the front in white cursive, which Buck had attempted to cover hastily with black sharpie when he noticed the phrase, his cheeks flush almost the same colour as the bell.

Indiana considers the options, wonders if going insane from a lack of human interaction counts as an emergency, or if she should just tough it out and hope that Buck shows face sometime soon.

Evidently, Indiana's impulsive nature wins the battle. She uses the little strength she has to push her bottle over using the cast on her wrist, watching as the bottle careens into the bell, a loud ringing echoing through the house as the items clatter to the ground.

Then, just to really send it home, Indiana shouts, "Ow, fuck, ouch!"

One, two, three-

Her mental count doesn't reach four before Buck comes charging into the room, panicked eyes landing on her immediately. She can see him doing a scan of her body, eyes darting from her head to her shoulders, then to her knees and her toes, trying to find the source of the injury.

"What happened?" Buck asks, his chest still rising and falling quickly. He can't see an injury, but he's got enough experience with them to know that they aren't always visible. "Are you okay? What do you need?"

Indiana taps the other side of the couch with her toes, gesturing to it with her chin. "Your company. Please, take a seat."

"Indiana," Buck says, frustration coating his words. "I was worried that you were hurt."

"And I was worried that you had fallen victim to the garbage disposal. Now we both have peace of mind."

Buck shakes his head, leaning down to pick up the bottle and bell from the carpet. He kneels in front of her, frowning at the red object in his hand. "This bell is for emergencies."

"I know!" Indiana replies, exasperatedly. "I am actively having an emergency."

"And your emergency is..."

"I'm half an episode of Jersey Shore away from insanity. Seriously. The only interaction I've had in hours is Netflix asking me if I'm still watching."

"You poor thing," Buck says mockingly, pushing out his bottom lip in a pout. "However do you survive in these treacherous conditions?"

She can feel the heat creeping up her neck, rushing for her cheeks quicker than she can stop it. "Buck," she whines, dragging his name out. She reaches for his arm with her uninjured hand, putting a light hold on his wrist. "Come and sit with me."

"You know I'm busy," Buck argues, pulling his wrist out of her grip. He places a hand on the couch to help himself up, standing at his full height once again. "I'll come afterwards, I promise."

Indiana scoffs, feeling much like the petulant children that she teaches rather than her adult self, "You said that hours ago."

Already halfway into the hallway, Buck replies, "I mean it this time!"

Rolling her eyes, Indiana picks up the tv remote and presses play once again. Snooki appears on screen, clad in an outfit that would hurt Indiana's eyes if she wasn't so impressed by it somehow looking good, and she pushes Buck's negligence to the side.

She will deal with him later. Trust her on that one.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

At quarter-past midnight, Indiana finally hears the fridge door click shut. She's been flirting with sleep for the past two hours, going between conscious and unconscious as her pain medication does its job. She wishes it would just knock her out completely, but unfortunately, the constant stream of noise from down the hallway keeps her alert.

She listens intently for the telltale sound of Buck's sock clad feet on the hallway carpet as he approaches the living room, still adorned in his striped apron and navy blue sweatpants. He leans his body against the doorway, arms crossed against his chest.

"You still awake?" Buck asks, his words soft and barely intelligible through the fuzz in her mind. He approaches her, laying the back of his hand against her forehead to gauge her temperature. "You need anything?"

"Jus' you," Indiana replies, her voice slurry. She tries to pat the empty space next to her with her hand, though it's more like a faint gesture of her hand, but Buck gets the hint. He sinks down onto the couch next to her, taking the brunt of her body weight as she practically falls into him. Indiana sniffs, screwing up her nose, "Y'smell weird."

Buck snorts, "Thanks, hon. You sure do know how to make a man blush."

Indiana gives a noncommittal hum in response, smacking her lips together before bullying her nose further into the space between his shoulder and his neck. Within seconds, Buck feels her soft puffs of breath against his neck even out, her body fully slumped against his side as she gives way to sleep. He does his best to manoeuvre them into a laying down position, him flat on his back while he guides Indiana's legs across his own, her arm thrown haphazardly across his chest as she tries to readjust herself in her sleep.

Buck feels his chest go tight at the sight of her, injured beyond belief because of him, yet still clinging to her like he's got all the answers. Snoring into his neck like she's never been so at ease, allowing him into her home with open arms and giving him everything without a thought.

He has to tell her.

Buck knows he has to tell her. He can't take advantage of her kindness, of her forgiving nature and the vulnerability that he knows she fought tooth and nail to give away again. He can't sit here and take, take, take without giving something back.

He's going to tell her. He just needs a moment.

He casts his eyes down to Indiana's sleeping form, watching as her pursed lips push out tiny little breaths against his neck, and allows himself to breathe. He sees her, with broken bones and bruises lining her skin, yet so alive that he has to bite back the breath that gets caught in his throat. Her skin is warm, flush with colour, and they are alive together.

Buck smells of various cooking spices and sweat, and Indiana is so high on painkillers that she passed out the minute she found a source of warmth. But they are alive, so alive that the reality of it is overwhelming and all-consuming, and that alone is enough for the world to pause, to give them a moment to breathe.

Here, in the warmth of Indiana's home, with their body parts tucked into one another and their lives irrevocably intertwined, they can allow themselves a moment.