Title: a reputation to uphold
Info: written for kink-bingo’s december mini-challenge. Kink is “caning”. Story also includes established relationship. TW for not obtaining consent. 419 words.
–
“Okay Leslie. Good news: your ankle is totally fine.”
“But it hurts!” Leslie’s bottom lip juts out and she kicks against the table with the very foot she’s been complaining about. “Ow! See!”
Ann smiles good-naturedly, but this is getting old. She’s not sure if she has the patience for a whole life of this (she does). “If it would make you feel better, the hospital can give you a cane for a few days.”
“The kind with the sword inside?” Leslie lights up and hops to her feet, remembering to favor her right side.
“The kind that help you walk when you’re hurt.”
“Okay then. Definitely.”
*
She abandons it after a half-day of trying to maneuver around City Hall carrying binders and notebooks and leaning sideways in an exaggerated effort to save her foot-ankle-leg from further injury. And it bothers Ann, more than usual, because these people know that she’s a nurse, that she’s the one letting Leslie get away with this… infantile behavior. And someday, she’d like to make an impression around her that doesn’t revolve around the esteemed Ms. Knope.
*
“Looking for this?” Ann asks when she gets home, throwing the cane in Leslie’s direction on the couch (she may or may not be hoping for impact, but still winces a little when the lightweight metal clunks into Leslie’s shoulder causing her to drop the paperwork she was holding).
“Oh yes!” Leslie fingers the metal, “thank you! It was very helpful, I’m practically functioning at one hundred percent now!”
Ann sighs and sits down on the couch next to her girlfriend. She’s never been a fighter. “Look, Les. Maybe next time we could just… kiss it better instead of borrowing hospital resources?” And she honestly expects, for a moment, for Leslie to back down and concede this.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Ann.” Leslie puts her hands out in protest, “I could have died if I didn’t get the necessary medical help.”
Ann grabs the cane, frowning. “You stubbed your toe.”
“And it hurt!”
Ann notices that Leslie’s eyes are trained on her, even as she stands up with the cane, shaking her head. On impulse, she smacks Leslie on the back as she retreats to the kitchen, feeling just a bit better about the whole thing when she hears the dull thud, her hand absorbing the impact. And she pretends not to hear the quiet “Thank you,” as she leans the cane against the oven. She’s not quite ready to think about what it means.
