Imagines [Book Four]

American Gods [Mad Sweeney] pt. 2

When you wake up the following morning, you have absolutely no shame to find yourself half on top of Sweeney. He's warm and surprisingly comfortable, and you let yourself drift off to sleep for a little bit longer. The second time you wake up, you're in a little bit more pain than you were earlier and know you need to get up and eat something so you can take a painkiller.

You attempt to roll off of Sweeney, only to have his hand pull you back as he groans about you not going anywhere just yet.

Chuckling, you try to push off again. "I'm in pain, a mhuirnín. I need food and a pill."

He inhales sharply. "'Ya know Irish?"

"Tá. Well, only a little," you muse. "I might have forgotten all the important bits concerning you, but I was still drawn to mythology and the Irish language growing up. I just didn't study too much into the language because by then I got dragged into the world of the supernatural."

Sweeney groans. "Luv, 'ya can't tell me that and expect me to let 'ya leave this bed."

"I can and you will." You laugh some more before groaning when pain zings through your rib area. "As much as I'm diggin' this vibe between us, I'm healing. When you and I decide to have a go at it, I don't want gentle." He groans again, but doesn't try to pull you back when you roll away. "Now please go attempt to make breakfast or take my car and go buy something."

As you go about collecting clothes and some toiletries for the bathroom, Sweeney grumbles as he gets out of bed and starts dressing himself. You disappear into the bathroom, slowly undressing and peeling off your bandages. You then proceed to get the water as hot as you can take it and then step into the spray.

You take your time washing up, groaning softly as all your body's aches can now be felt. The worst is your face and rib area, and you're just grateful that nothing was broken. After you're done, you dry off and put antibacterial ointment on all the cuts you have before rebandaging them. The cut on your forehead and cheek receive the same treatment, but unfortunately there's nothing to be done for your split lip.

You pull on a black bralette and a pair of black leggings, and then pull on a plaid button-up which you leave unbuttoned. When you walk back into the bedroom, you pull on a pair of ankle socks before continuing on to the front room. There isn't any noise, so you're surprised to find Sweeney sitting at the island counter with McDonald's bags spread out in front of him. And standing on the opposite side of the counter, arms crossed and gaze set on Sweeney is none other than Lydia Martin.

"Yours?" She deadpans, nose wrinkling as Sweeney burps something awful.

You chuckle softly and continue your way into the kitchen. "Mine."

"Since when?"

"Since I was ten and mom passed away." That gets Lydia's attention and you continue your way to her until you're close enough to hug. "He's very rough around the edges, but still very much mine."

She takes a moment to gauge your expression before smiling softly and hugging you. "I'm glad you're okay." She pulls back from the hug, and you can see her gaze tracing the cuts and bruises dotting your face. She frowns. "I hope they got what was coming to them."

"Well Sweeney is the one who took care of it." You gesture towards the man in question, smiling at his cheeks puffed out with food as he winks. "Charming," you deadpan. Lydia snorts a laugh and then you introduce them. "Lydia, meet Mad Sweeney. Ex king and ex god, now currently cursed as a leprechaun. Sweeney, meet Lydia Martin. Current pack member and banshee. Please don't piss each other off."

Sweeney perks up. "Banshee, 'ya say?" Lydia purses her lips but nods nonetheless. "Pleasure to meet 'ya, little red."

"Well I guess I can say the same since you rescued YN here."