When Everleigh woke up—at the slightly more human hour of eleven o'clock—she half believed Maverick's visit had been a dream. If it hadn't been for the note left, Everleigh never would've known. Not because the note had something sweet written on it—more because a chicken could've written it and it would've been more legible. Absolutely Maverick's terrible handwriting.
Everleigh took that as a sign he'd left and headed back to his own hotel. Which was fair. Probably doing damage control for blatantly lying that he had a family emergency when he absolutely did not.
She walked to the bathroom with a fresh set of clothes in her arms. Plan of the day: clean up her room before she had to talk to clinics in London for her clinical trials. Everleigh had the sinking feeling she'd have general clinical and not leaves in maternity or geriatrics which meant she'd get sick within the week. Best of luck. Shower, first.
The steam from her shower enveloped the room in a thick air that felt like a warm hug after a long day. Yes, Everleigh knew what that felt like now. (She was going to vomit just having the thought.) Quickly throwing on her new shirt—maybe it was a MARS crop top she'd found at Hot Topic on a trip to Salt Lake City, maybe it wasn't—and a pair of looser gym shorts that Everleigh never used to workout, she stepped out of the bathroom, flicking the fan on as she left.
Drying her hair messily with a hotel towel, Everleigh rummaged through her suitcase until she found her headphones. Putting them in, she pressed play on her MARS and Maverick playlist. Still the perfect blend.
Everleigh quietly sung to herself as she dumped her suitcase out to refold clothes. She never understood how, after not buying a single thing, her suitcase never fit what she'd first packed. The only thing she found consistent was that packing was a pain in the ass.
It didn't take long for Everleigh to start swaying her hips as she folded. That turned to singing a little louder. Which turned to ignoring the pile of clothes entirely and dancing in the hotel room while singing her lungs out. Nothing felt more like a concert stage than an empty hotel room, Everleigh was sure.
"Back in New York / Late nights turned early mornings / Pop the champagne cork / Didn't heed your warnings / This was ending soon—"
As she turned, Everleigh saw something out of the corner of her eye that made her scream and swing a pillow in that direction.
"Ow, Everleigh!" Everleigh pulled a headphone out and winced. She knew that voice. "Jee-sus, dude."
"Kingston?"
Maverick held the side of his head. He'd changed clothes since the night before. Everleigh felt bad—she might've knocked one of his hearing aids out with the pillow. "Were you expecting dick me down Donny?"
"I'm so sorry—"
"Were you singing my song?"
Everleigh smacked him with the pillow again. In the torso, this time. Fair game. "Why are you sneaking up on me?"
"I was enjoying the concert."
Everleigh's face heated up. "How long were you standing there?"
"Long enough to know that song was not on the album you showed me you bought." Maverick grinned.
"I'm not above hitting you again."
Maverick held his hands up in surrender. "I left you a note that said I'd be back soon, Everleigh."
"Is that what that said?" Everleigh eyed the note on the dresser again. No way in hell...
"My handwriting is not that bad—"
"Kingston, I work with medical doctors—"
"Okay, okay, okay!" Maverick waved his hands. "Start over. Good morning, Meadowlark, I brought breakfast."
"Good morning, Kingston," Everleigh said, "go to a handwriting tutor."
Maverick took the pillow from Everleigh and hit her in the hip with it. That was also fair. "I thought you watched horror movies. The hell are you doing reacting like that?"
"You're lucky I didn't hit you with the suitcase, Kingston."
Maverick considered this with pursed lips and a raised eyebrow. "Call it even?"
"Deal." Everleigh crossed her arms. "What do I owe you for breakfast?"
"Nothing," Maverick said. "Forget it."
"I will literally slaughter the next man who says that to me."
"What?"
"You heard me, Kingston."
"A fiver?" Maverick suggested.
"Tenner and we've got a deal."
"Why did you ask if you're just going to give me a ten—"
"Because that's how it works and you're being difficult." Everleigh dug her wallet out of the pile of clothes.
"What other man took you out for dinner—"
"Here." Everleigh tossed an American bill at Maverick. Probably a twenty, not a ten.
"You know I'm Canadian—"
"Shut up, Kingston."
Maverick looked like he was fighting laughter as he slid his jacket off his shoulders. For a moment, he stayed quiet. As per Everleigh's half teasing request.
"What?" Everleigh rolled her eyes.
Maverick grinned and walked past her. "Nice tattoo, Meadowlark."
Everleigh's eyes widened as she reached a hand to the small of her back.
Strictly speaking, flight attendants weren't allowed tattoos. And while nurses were, there was still a little bit of stigma regarding it. That being said, Everleigh was seventeen once. And stupid. Had big dreams of what she wanted her world to look like and what she was expecting from her life.
A little paper airplane followed by a trail of dotted lines was a simple design that seemed a thousand times more exciting to a teenager who found a shop willing to ink her without her parents' permission.
It felt a little too personal that Maverick was the only person who hadn't seen her naked who knew about her tattoo. Donny didn't matter, Maverick did.
"You... I..." Everleigh stumbled. Very Maverick of her.
"Everleigh," Maverick half-sang, "Relax."
"Why're you not making fun of me?"
"Because you look embarrassed. And that tattoo looks, like, a decade old..."
"Bloody hell, how long were you looking?"
"Breakfast time." Maverick pulled containers of berries and a can of whipped cream from a paper grocery bag.
"Berries and squirty cream?"
Maverick dropped a container of blueberries. "What did you just call that?"
"It's double cream that squirts out of a can—" Everleigh raised an eyebrow. "Squirty cream—"
"Whipped cream—" Maverick cut himself off with a loud laugh that turned into a fit of laughter.
"I'm not arguing about this." Everleigh crossed her arms.
"Are you ill?"
"Kingston." Everleigh was a little too exasperated for having been awake barely an hour.
Maverick laughed. "Fine."
He picked up the containers and walked them into the bathroom. The tap ran not long after, Everleigh tossed a hoodie on as he rinsed the berries.
"Thank you," Everleigh called.
"You're welcome." Maverick walked back into the room. "Hoodie?"
"Not many people know about... that." Everleigh swallowed hard.
"It's cute," Maverick said. "You should show it more."
Everleigh subconsciously rubbed the small of her back again. "I didn't think you were going to be here. I thought you left."
"Why would I leave?" Maverick asked. "I don't have anything to do today. No show, remember?"
"Could hang out with your sister."
"That'd be difficult when she lives in Vancouver."
"You know what I meant, Kingston."
"I do. And it's fine. I'm here to bug you all day. Because you scared the living shit on me, so now you have to suffer the annoyance of my presence."
"Lucky me." Everleigh didn't mind that much. She just didn't want to make him feel like he had to stay with her. A good night's sleep combined with her flights getting covered had helped her feel a lot better.
Maverick let out a breath, changing the subject with the sigh. "Can I say something I'm hoping isn't too weird?"
"Weirder than pointing out my tattoo that's practically on my ass?"
"Your, uh, monthly calendar popped up when I had your phone. I can't remember the exact day, but I know it's soon," Maverick said, holding out a second paper bag toward Everleigh. Everleigh took it gingerly as Maverick sat at the desk and began cutting berries with a knife he'd pulled from the first bag. "Don't know what you use, so I grabbed a couple things. Couple bars of chocolate too. Hope that's not intrusive."
Everleigh looked into the bag. A couple boxes of tampons and pads, and chocolate bars down the side. "That's..." Everleigh fought the urge to say the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done because that was fucking embarrassing however true it was. "Thank—"
"Shit—!" Maverick pulled his hand away from the desk and held it with his other hand. The knife clattered down.
"Did you just cut your finger—" Everleigh dropped the paper bag on the floor and rushed over to him.
"No."
The little splatter of blood on the desk and a couple berries said otherwise.
"Let me see..." Everleigh said, gently prying his hands away from each other. Absolutely did he cut his finger and he cut his finger well. It was hard to see the cut through the blood, but it was enough she knew he needed stitches. Only Kingston Maverick. "Okay, yup, come with me, please."
"It's fine, Everleigh—" Despite the protest, Maverick got up. Let Everleigh lead him.
"It's not fine, Kingston." Everleigh walked him to the bathroom, grabbing a hotel towel and tossing it over her shoulder. "Sit on the counter for me, please?"
Maverick stayed quiet and did as he was told. Everleigh wrapped his hand in the hotel towel—white, going to be stained, Everleigh didn't care. "Everleigh, I can run to the ER—"
"I'll be back," Everleigh said. She raised her hands above her head. "Keep it up, above the heart. It'll slow down the bleeding while I grab some... stuff."
"Stuff?"
"Promise me you'll keep it elevated?"
Maverick raised his arms above his head, too. "I promise, nurse Meadowlark."
Everleigh dropped her hands. "I'll only be a moment."
"Okay."
"Do you actively need anything before I go get a needle and thread and something to sterilize it?"
"Another kiss on the cheek?" Maverick grinned at her. Little shit.
"You're an idiot." But Everleigh obliged—a quick kiss to the cheek never hurt anybody, right? "I'll be back. Keep it elevated."
"Yes, mom."
Everleigh elected to ignore that and grab a pair of shoes to go to the giftshop. Surely they had medical supplies, right? If a petrol station did, a hotel should. That made sense.
"Everleigh?"
"Yes, Kingston?" Everleigh stepped into the pair of shower sandals she had for hotels only. They were going to have to do at that moment.
"Want your room key back?"
"Now's the time you decide to tell me how you got back in?" Everleigh walked back into the bathroom, not impressed.
Maverick smiled as he dug the card out from his pocket. "Guilty."
Everleigh took it from his outstretched hand. "Thank you."
"Thank you."
Everleigh walked out of the hotel room, catching an elevator relatively quickly. On the way down, Everleigh made a mental list of what she needed. Needle, thread. That was obvious. Maverick hadn't cleaned the knife after bringing it home from the store, so antiseptic of some sort was likely necessary. Probably some liquor. For him or her was to be determined. Petroleum jelly. Gauze and tape to wrap his finger. If she was feeling nice by the time she got down there, she'd probably grab him a bag of M&M's or something to focus on while she stitched him up.
The elevator ding had Everleigh practically running out of her footwear. Into the giftshop she went, ignoring her plan and grabbing anything that remotely resembled what she needed. The two bottles of soda were never on the list, but she grabbed them anyway. Everleigh had to get the cashier to charge her room for the supplies, having left her debit card in the room with Maverick. Oh joy, she was losing it and needed to reign it the fuck in if she was going to stitch his finger.
Everleigh made her way back into the room with an armload of supplies. Maverick still sat on the counter with his arm in the air, other hand scrolling through his phone. Giggling to himself.
"Can I preface this by saying it's not going to feel good," Everleigh started, opening the soda and placing it with the cap off beside him, "but it does need stitches."
"Gotta do what you gotta do," Maverick said. "How much do I owe you for this?"
"Don't worry about it." Everleigh opened everything before she washed her hands. As sterile as she could be in a hotel bathroom. She sat down on the closed lid of the toilet. "Hand, please."
Maverick lowered his hand, still wrapped in the towel toward her. Everleigh gently unwrapped it—hearing a small hiss escape Maverick's lips. This hurt more than he wanted to tell her.
"I'll try to get this done as soon as I can." Everleigh started by cleaning the cut with an anti-septic wipe. Being able to see what she was dealing with made even more questions spring into her brain. "How'd you manage to cut yourself this deep slicing a strawberry?"
"Think I was distracted by you saying squirty cream."
Everleigh shot Maverick a look.
"Kidding. Think I'm just special."
"You're lucky you didn't sever a nerve."
Maverick stayed quiet while Everleigh threaded the needle. She appreciated that, it was always a painful task. Once she had it threaded, she looked up at Maverick. Moment of truth. Maverick gave her a small nod but turned his attention back to his phone. A good distraction.
After the first puncture, Maverick's phone came into view. "Say hi to Stevie, Everleigh."
"Kingston, get that out of my face." Everleigh wasn't joking. She needed to have her undivided attention on his finger and her work.
"But it's Stevie."
"Stevie, respectfully—" Everleigh didn't know if he had her on video call or was just being annoying, but she didn't look at the phone. "—I love you, but Kingston, get the fucking camera out of my face."
"You're no fun—"
If asked in a court of law, Everleigh would say the stab with the needle into Maverick's finger was accidental.
"Ow." Maverick put his phone on the counter.
"Please, Kingston."
"Sorry, sorry."
Everleigh was in the middle of her next stitch when Maverick spoke up again. Eventually, she would be better at talking while she stitched. But this needed her focus.
"Stevie," Maverick said, holding his phone higher this time, not as in Everleigh's face. "I hope you're willing to be my witness when I sue Meadowlark for assault. First she hits me with a pillow—"
"You snuck up on me—" Everleigh protested.
"Now she's stabbing me."
"You're right, I should just let you bleed out." A small laugh escaped Everleigh's lips as she continued stitching. "You fuckin' spoon."
"Hey."
"For the love of God, stop moving."
Maverick put his phone away and sat still for the rest of Everleigh's stitching. Her hands were bloodied by the end of it—she probably should've bought a box of latex gloves—and one of the stitches wasn't something she was proud of, not that Maverick would notice. But for her first try? She'd done pretty well. The bleeding had stopped and that was what mattered.
Everleigh got up and washed her hands again. Doing her best to get Maverick's blood off her. As she washed, Maverick examined his finger. Everleigh dried her hands as she looked at him.
"Thank you," Maverick said.
"Does it look okay?"
"You just put—" Maverick trailed off, looking to her for an answer.
"Five."
"Five stitches in my finger, and you're wanting to know if it looks okay?"
"I've never done it on a real person before." Everleigh shrugged. "You'd be the first."
"I love being people's first." Maverick grinned.
Everleigh rolled her eyes. She grabbed the petroleum jelly and gently rubbed some over the stitches. After that, she grabbed the gauze and carefully wrapped his finger. Taking his other hand, she pointed one of his fingers and pressed it down to keep the gauze in place while she ripped a couple strips of tape.
"You have to tell me if it's too tight."
"I will."
"No sex jokes that time?" Everleigh asked. "I'm impressed."
"You shouldn't be."
"Sarcasm."
"Right."
Everleigh taped the gauze onto his finger; not too tight, not too loose. Just like they'd taught her in class. She didn't need him losing the finger when she'd spent all that time making sure it was okay.
When she was done, she cleaned up the leftover medical supplies, walking them into the main room so she could pack them. Might as well. Everleigh then went and cleaned up the strawberries. Unfortunately, tossing them was the only thing she could do. She wasn't going to examine every single one for contamination. And Maverick had been using the back flap of the container for a cutting board anyway, it was a miracle he'd kept his finger.
"All doooone!" Maverick yelled, walking back into the room. Everleigh ventured a glance his way to see he was talking into his phone. Showing off his newly wrapped finger to who Everleigh assumed was Stevie again. As Everleigh began cutting up blueberries, careful to watch what she was doing so she didn't have to stitch herself up, too, Maverick turned in the corner of her eye. "Thank you, nurse Meadowlark."
Everleigh stopped cutting blueberries long enough to flip Maverick off. Enough to make him laugh and pocket his phone again.
It didn't take long for Everleigh to have two containers of berries separated for the two of them. A small amount of whipped cream on hers, and likely the rest of the can on Maverick's. The hotel had plastic forks near the coffee station that Maverick and Everleigh slapped together as a small cheers before digging in.
"Thank you for brekkie," Everleigh said, biting into a forkful of berries.
"Are you feeling better?"
Everleigh nodded. "Loads."
"Then it's my pleasure."
Everleigh smiled softly as they ate silently; Everleigh in the desk chair and Maverick sitting on the corner of her messy bed. If Everleigh was remembering right where she'd spread everything out to pack, Maverick was absolutely sitting on one of her favourite sports bras.
"Do you seriously have nothing to do today?" Everleigh asked.
Maverick nodded. "I seriously have nothing to do today. What do you want to do?"
"Finish packing," Everleigh said. "Make a couple calls for clinical." She snuck a look at the clock. "Actually, it might be a little late for that. But that's about it."
"And you're cool if I stay and bother you for the rest of the day?"
"If you must."
"I must."
"So it shall be."
Maverick grinned. "So it shall be."
"I'll put a movie on or something while I finish packing."
"What do you got?"
Everleigh stood up from the chair, grabbing her laptop from the charger and sitting next to Maverick on the bed. Last she'd been on it, she'd watched The Princess Diaries before meeting up with Stevie and Jun.
"I want no judgement for this."
"Why would I judge?" Maverick asked. "That movie is amazing."
"Second one's better," Everleigh said. "It has Chris Pine."
"There's a sequel?"
Everleigh gaped at him. "Seriously?"
"How am I supposed to know?"
"Because it's phenomenal," Everleigh said. She tapped the mouse a couple times. "That's it. You're watching it while I put my shit away. It's decided."
Everleigh put the movie on before Maverick could protest. He made himself comfortable on the bed, leaning back against her headboard. Laptop turned so Everleigh could see it if she looked up from packing, but Maverick could still see it well.
She fell into the rhythm of packing easily. Occasionally sneaking bits of berries from her breakfast turned brunch. When she looked up, Julie Andrews walked onto the screen, being told she was late to the party.
"A queen is never late," she said, "everyone else is simply early."
"I'm going to use that," Maverick said.
Everleigh nearly spat out her mouthful of berries as she laughed.
The rest of the afternoon after packing her suitcase was spent on bed, watching and laughing to movies with Maverick. And, by God, if Everleigh didn't know better, she would say she could've gotten used to it.