It could have been worse. That's what you told yourself when you finished the job. As you hobbled to your car and drove home. And now again as you parked and dragged yourself from the vehicle. A grunt of pain accompanied the movement and you clenched your teeth to keep from crying out. Okay, so this job could have gone a lot better, but it could have been worse.

You shuffled to the private elevator that would take you to the penthouse and were careful to touch as little as possible. You could take the car to the garage at the Continental to be cleaned but they didn't do house calls. You had to have your own people for that. The elevator dinged as it arrived at your floor and the doors slid open to show Dog waiting for you. He whined which is unusual for him but you figured he could smell the blood.

"Baby? Is that you?" John called from deeper in the apartment.

You considered responding, but that seemed like more effort than you cared to put forth at the moment. He'd come check when you didn't answer. You shuffled into the apartment, hand braced against the material you had packing the wound in your side.

He called your name then stepped out where you could see each other. His eyes went wide as he took you in. "Shit." He hurried to your side, leaving the gun in his hand on the kitchen counter as he passed by. "What the hell happened?"

"Ow."

He wrapped an arm around your waist and you gratefully let him take most of your weight. "Ow? That's your response?" There was a hint of laughter in his voice, which is what you'd been hoping for.

He worried about you anyway. Coming home like this certainly wasn't going to help. He lowered you onto the chair you kept in the bathroom for just this purpose and scurried around gathering everything he needed to take care of you. Your eyes followed his swift, sure movements. You both had this down to a fine art by now though your roles were usually reversed.

He placed everything on the floor nearby and knelt in front of you with a pair of scissors in his hand. He cut your shirt open and slid it off that way. His eyes ran over you taking in every cut, scrape and bruise. When his eye fell on the makeshift bandage on your side, he swallowed hard. He glanced up to meet your eyes before removing it.

You mustered up a small smile. "Hi."

He flashed a grin. "Hi." A quick kiss to your lips and he was all business again. "You ready for this?"

"Hell, no."

He chuckled and pulled the fabric away in one quick movement. You hissed through your teeth.

"Christ." He grabbed a clean rag and recovered the wound immediately as it was still bleeding though not as badly as it was earlier. "Hold that," he instructed.

You put your hand on top of the rag and watched as he prepared the needle and thread to stitch you up.

He glanced over at you. The furrow in his brow smoothed slightly as he noticed you watching him. "Anything else I need to worry about, or is that it?"

"Pretty sure the rest just need to be cleaned up."

He made a sound of agreement and pulled the cloth away. "This is gonna hurt."

"When doesn't it?" You'd no sooner gotten the words out of your mouth than he poured disinfectant over the wound. "Son of a bitch," you yelled.

"Sorry," he said, though he didn't sound sorry at all. He was probably enjoying this. Sadistic bastard. He glanced at you and you realized you'd said that last bit out loud. Oops. You grinned and he shook his head as he went back to stitching. "I thought this was supposed to be an easy hit. What happened?"

You grunted in irritation. It was supposed to be easy. Snipe the target and slink away, no one the wiser as to who pulled the trigger. "There was a complication."

"That doesn't tell me anything, sweetheart."

"You remember Gabriel, right?"

John paused briefly and his tongue darted out to moisten his lips. He continued doctoring the wound before he answered you. "You mean the man who burned down my house, tried to kill you and whose empire we've slowly been taking out over the last six months? Yeah, I think I remember."

"Job was a setup."

"Son of a bitch."

"On the plus side, I took out those two thugs of his that we haven't been able to get past." You'd been having difficulty getting to Gabriel directly because of his guards. Since this was a personal mission with no pay involved the two of you were not taking any more risk than absolutely necessary. Besides the longer it took you to kill him, the longer he had to live in fear. It was a win-win scenario.

He finished up his stitching and cut the thread. He stood and held out a hand to help you up. "They the ones that did this?"

"Yeah. They waited for me to show up and jumped me."

He left you leaning against the counter and went over to prepare the shower. "I told you I didn't like the job when you told me about it."

You didn't say anything, you didn't have to. He was obviously right and as much as you wanted to argue that, you couldn't. The client had demanded the kill at a specific time and place. Such jobs rarely went well, but you'd done them before with no issues. "No more solo jobs," he instructed as he helped strip the rest of your clothes.

"Fine." You stepped under the spray in the shower. The water stung as it hit your injuries but the promise of being clean made it worth it. "Same goes for you then, Wick. No more solo work."

"Fair enough."

You hadn't expected him to agree without at least making a comment so you turned to look at him. He was taking off his own clothes and grinned when he realized he had your attention. Your gaze ran over him and you bit your lip as you watched him saunter over and step in with you.

His hands wrapped around your upper arms and his dark eyes looked you over. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, John. I'll be hurting for a couple of days, but I'm all right." Even when he saw to your injuries himself, he wanted reassurance from you that there wasn't anything serious that he'd missed. Figuring it was the remnants of what he'd been through with Helen, you gladly gave him what he sought.

He nodded once and swallowed. Reaching past you, he grabbed the handheld showerhead from its holder. "Let me look you over." He took his time, rinsing the blood and grime away from your skin and checking your wounds as he came across them. When he finished the front, you turned so he could examine the back.

His fingers ghosted along the edge of a wound on your shoulder. "This one could use a couple of stitches."

You groaned. "No more stitches. Glue it."

He gave that low laugh of his and put the showerhead back. His lips pressed against the damp skin near the wound. "No more stitches," he promised.

Next, he washed your hair, his fingers massaging the shampoo through the strands as he checked your skull for any injuries you'd missed. Once you were clean he helped you out and dried you off, pausing only to fix the slice in your shoulder with some surgical glue. That done, he swept you up in his arms to carry you to the bed.

Protesting wouldn't do any good, so you just leaned your head against his chest and let him take care of you. He was good at it. Once he had you tucked under the covers, he climbed in behind you. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you back against him, taking care not to jostle the wound in your side.

You sighed in contentment. This was always your favorite part of the day. Just being held by the man you loved. He kissed the back of your neck. "Thank you," you said quietly.

"For what?"

"Everything. Taking care of me. Loving me."

He hummed. "If you really want to thank me, there is one thing you can do."

You laughed. "Really? And just what might that be?"

His arm tightened around you. "Marry me."

You sucked in a breath. Surely you hadn't heard him correctly. You didn't think he'd ever want to get married again. "You don't have to do this because you think this is what I want."

He propped himself up on his elbow and you turned slightly so you could see him better. "I wouldn't ask you if I didn't want it."

There was no questioning the sincerity in his eyes. After another moment of silence, you grinned. "I would love to marry you, John Wick."

He mirrored your expression and leaned down to kiss you, stopping a breath away from your lips. "That's good, because I can't return the ring."

The comment startled a laugh from you and John soon joined you as he feathered kisses along your lips.

"Ow," you groaned at the twinge of pain in your side, but then you were right back to laughing. John's head dropped down to rest on the curve where your neck and shoulder met. His shoulders shook with his mirth. God, you loved this man.

Once the two of you had composed yourselves, he pushed himself up so he could see your face again. You laid a hand on his cheek as you smiled up at him. "Mrs. Baba Yaga. I can hardly wait."