Oh-- he has been there. He knows how sore bruises like that can get, has fallen off enough ladders and roofs to know intimately how bad that can get. He even winces a little.
But it's a problem: if it had been someone else, Furiosa or Rosethorn, he would have told them to take off their shirt and let him help. He isn't squeamish, not when it comes to his friends and his family. But this is Rey, whom he may not have explicitly thought of like that yet, but who is not sexless. He's seen how graceful and strong she is, he's seen how she moves, and he doesn't think anyone could deny she's beautiful.
But her back hurts. Her back hurts because she fought someone three times her size, and Tommy has something that could help her out.
It takes him just a tick to long, but he purses his lips and nods. "If you like, I can leave this with you and you can let one of the women look at it."
When he says one of the women Rey can't help it, a little huff of a laugh escapes her and she shakes her head.
"The only people I know well enough to do that are men and most of them won't speak to me." She opens her eyes now, and she looks directly into his to be absolutely sure she gets across what she means. "It's alright. I've had worse and it'll heal. You got the important one."
She doesn't know any of the women on this ship well enough to let them touch her and at this point, she doesn't want that to change. She'd rather be in pain for a few days than invite someone she doesn't know well to touch her back.
"I just thought you'd prefer someone your own gender do something like that," he says, seeming surprised, a little taken aback- because he absolutely wants her to do something about her back, now, and she's just being stubborn.
She'd trust Luke or Han to do it if she wasn't entirely prepared for the possibility of losing them over what she did to Bull, but it's exactly for that reason she won't ask them. She's too devoted to staying strong to cope with that to let her guard down enough to let them see her weaknesses and a bruise that probably takes up her entire back is more of a weakness than she could stomach them knowing about.
It's probably stupid, but she doesn't really care. She watches Tommy for one more moment before she asks him, honestly and softly,
"Who do you think did came to my home in the desert to put ointment on me when I was hurt on Jakku, Tommy? This won't be the first time I heal on my own and it won't be the last time. It's fine."
"But you're not on your own this time," he says, soft but insistent. It isn't that he doesn't understand, it's that he's right there with her now, and there are many others who care about her, and she's holing up in here.
He understands. But he wishes she wouldn't. He wishes she'd let people in, so she wouldn't have to carry all that weight around.
"Yes," she answers easily, with no hint of embarrassment or modesty. It's not that she doesn't realize that being in front of him with her shirt off is crossing a line they haven't before, but she's answering the question he isn't asking. Yes, she trusts him. Entirely, with every part of herself, and when she realizes that she feels a lighter, incredibly happy about it.
He makes a soft, low sound and looks at he jar again-- is he really going to let her be in pain because he feels some kind of awkwardness, because he has feelings for her?
"I'm alright," he decides, unscrewing the lid again. "If it's okay with you it's okay with me."
He's not very convincing, but he is reaching for the jar and saying it's fine so he must mean it. Either way she nods and shifts around so her back is to him, reaches for the hem of her shirt and starts to pull it up.
The first few inches go alright, but it becomes difficult once the fabric starts to stretch over the bruise and put more pressure on it. She's stiff still and even with the shirt barely halfway up her back it's impossible to miss the injury. She's black and blue, struggling a little to get her shirt off and holding her breath to avoid hissing in pain.
He hisses when he sees it, in sympathy, and leans forward without even really thinking about it.
"You should've said something earlier," he admonishes, gently, then starts tugging her shirt up and up, until its reached her shoulders and shell have to hunch to keep her chest covered.
The breath she had been holding comes out in a sigh of relief once her shirt has come up high enough that it's not touching the bruise anymore, but she doesn't hunch. She just pulls the shirt off the rest of the way and then sits up properly, because why would she worry about covering herself? Facing forward Tommy won't see anything he shouldn't and she's not embarrassed and anyway, she knows her body's dimensions. She's filled out since she's been here but even if he wanted to see her, which she knows he doesn't, this angle is all wrong. Her breasts are too small to see unless she turns toward him, which she won't be doing.
And once the shirt is off, anyway, there's the bruise to look at before anything else. She's slender and she did fall hard and the bruise takes up half her back, looks bad enough that just the pain from it had had Rey worrying she might have had some cracked ribs, but she's checked and she's in the clear now. It's just a bruise, but it's quite impressive.
"Yes, thank you," she answers him, and the relief in her voice makes it very clear she's thanking him for helping her get the shirt of entirely. "It must be bad if it made you make that noise."
"Let's just say I'm reconsidering leaving the Bull be, in the infirmary," he mutters, softly, blinking away his irritation. He takes a generous scoop of the ointment and starts at the tops of her shoulders, rubbing firmly but carefully.
"Technically that bruise is my own doing," she points out, fighting to keep still while he does his work. The most tender area will be closer to the center of the bruise, but this is strange, having someone touch her like this. It's distracting and new and his hands are so warm, and-
That's absolutely not the point. And she was in the middle of talking.
"He grabbed the staff to stop me, so I hung from it and kicked him in the chest hard enough to let go. That's why I fell."
He makes a soft noise that's difficult to pin down-- it's pride, but he won't tell her that much. It's just a little too much, right now, when he's trying to help her physical discomfort.
"Still. I have talked to him, Rey, about just this bloody thing." He keeps going, steadily, with a sure touch.
As his hands move lower Rey finds herself fighting the urge to sit up straighter, to squirm her way away from that touch with the knowledge that it's going to feel terrible when it gets to the worst of the injury, but she holds herself still. The effect is the muscles in her shoulders and her back flexing, tensing under his fingers, but her voice is even when she speaks.
"You should still leave him be. As far as I'm concerned, this is over."
Unless he does it again. That's an entirely different situation.
Honestly- he takes a bit to reply because he's busy watching her shoulders
move. He's watching those strong shoulders shift, and he knows he's also
watching her, in pain, working hard not to show any of it.
Not that he takes mercy on her: he moves right down to the sorest spots,
with a fresh scoop of ointment, as he speaks in a low voice. "I'll leave
him be, unless he does something stupid again."
That's what finally gets her to lose the fight to stay still, gets a soft exhale from her but she bites down on the inside of her cheek to keep from making any other noises. The sting of pain eases surprisingly quickly though, once he's got the ointment more spread out and she can feel it starting to work.
She's not a Shelby, but she's going to ask him how he makes that stuff anyway. It's kind of amazing.
And now that the pain is starting to fade she notices in a different way it's like to have Tommy's hands on her the way they are. She'd noticed how warm they were, but now she can feel better how gentle he's being while he works the ointment into her skin, realizes with a shock she wouldn't mind if he kept touching her even after he was done.
She would like his hands on her, smoothing down along her back, right up against her bare skin, and that's not something she's ever considered before. When he speaks she finds she likes that too, how low his voice has gotten, and she has to close her eyes and bite her lip for an entirely different reason.
What he's doing is clearly working to help her, too, and that shows in the way her shoulders are relaxing, the way her spine is less rigid and how her head drops forward just a little.
He has no idea about the way she's feeling right now, doesn't know she's thinking about him like that- at the same time when a few ideas of his own are floating up. Especially when her shoulders relax and her head drops forward, and he imagines doing this for her when she isn't bruised and hurt. Rubbing into her skin and getting her to relax, to let go of her worries just by touching her...
He can't help but notice the silence that has fallen between them, too, and he doesn't open his mouth again while he works on her back.
When he's finally done, he pulls back, the warmth of his hands pulling away from her as well. "There we go. Best not put that shirt on until it's dried, eh? Don't want the stink to settle in."
She didn't expect to but she misses his touch when it's gone, finds herself wishing for an excuse that would make him put his hands back on her, and that's such a stark difference from how she usually feels about being touched that she isn't exactly sure what to do with feeling like that.
He speaks, though, and that gives her something else to think about. Of course what she thinks about is the fact that Tommy has asked her to spend more time with him with her shirt off and that's so absurd but the reason is so logical that she can't help smiling a little.
"Thank you, Tommy," she says as she turns just enough to look at him over her shoulder. It's the unbruised side of her face, no purple and blue to distract from the way her expression is more open, there's no pain there anymore, and she's still smiling at him. "That feels much better. I hadn't... Well, it hurt more than I realized."
She doesn't love admitting he was right that she needed more than just healing on her own, but it's not terrible either.
Now that her body is relaxing it's impossible to resist the urge to stretch out muscles that she's been purposefully keeping still, so she doesn't. She raises her arms above her head and sighs when her spine cracks pleasantly, when the muscles along it cramp a second and then release and don't seize back up. She leans forward to stretch her lower back, to each side, and by the time she finally lowers her arms she's starting to feel like something other than walking, talking pain.
She still hurts, but that has nothing to do with her body.
"It's been a strange day," she says absently, bringing a hand up to rub the back of he neck. She's still stiff there and there's only so much that can be done about that.
Before he even really knows what he's doing, he's reaching up too, with the hand that had rubbed the cream into her skin. His fingers press into her skin, into the sore muscle there, as he replies.
He knows it's probably too much- really, he does. But he can't stop himself, not after what he just did.
"It has been," he agrees. "Things'll be clearer tomorrow, eh?"
Her only reply is a hum while her hand drops out of the way to let him do that instead and she's immediately grateful that he is. His hand is bigger than hers, the angle is better to work out the knots there and just like he can't stop himself from reaching out for her, she can't stop herself from letting out a soft sigh and leaning back into his touch.
"That feels good," she says softly, bending her neck forward and all but inviting him to keep going.
"You're tense," he says, like it wasn't obvious, like it adds something to the conversation: truly, he has no idea what to say now. Because this isn't soothing her hurts, this isn't ointment on a bruise, this isn't cradling her when she's crying.
She's half-naked and leaning into his touch, and he's rubbing her neck like they're lovers instead of friends. He doesn't even know if she wants anything like what he sometimes imagines, like he has the start of. He doesn't know if she's interested in that at all, if she's ready for it, and even if she were he doesn't know if she'd pick him to try.
But he can't stop, either. She's leaning into him so sweetly, and he feels like he's helping, and he really does like her.
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But it's a problem: if it had been someone else, Furiosa or Rosethorn, he would have told them to take off their shirt and let him help. He isn't squeamish, not when it comes to his friends and his family. But this is Rey, whom he may not have explicitly thought of like that yet, but who is not sexless. He's seen how graceful and strong she is, he's seen how she moves, and he doesn't think anyone could deny she's beautiful.
But her back hurts. Her back hurts because she fought someone three times her size, and Tommy has something that could help her out.
It takes him just a tick to long, but he purses his lips and nods. "If you like, I can leave this with you and you can let one of the women look at it."
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"The only people I know well enough to do that are men and most of them won't speak to me." She opens her eyes now, and she looks directly into his to be absolutely sure she gets across what she means. "It's alright. I've had worse and it'll heal. You got the important one."
She doesn't know any of the women on this ship well enough to let them touch her and at this point, she doesn't want that to change. She'd rather be in pain for a few days than invite someone she doesn't know well to touch her back.
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She'd trust Luke or Han to do it if she wasn't entirely prepared for the possibility of losing them over what she did to Bull, but it's exactly for that reason she won't ask them. She's too devoted to staying strong to cope with that to let her guard down enough to let them see her weaknesses and a bruise that probably takes up her entire back is more of a weakness than she could stomach them knowing about.
It's probably stupid, but she doesn't really care. She watches Tommy for one more moment before she asks him, honestly and softly,
"Who do you think did came to my home in the desert to put ointment on me when I was hurt on Jakku, Tommy? This won't be the first time I heal on my own and it won't be the last time. It's fine."
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He understands. But he wishes she wouldn't. He wishes she'd let people in, so she wouldn't have to carry all that weight around.
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"It's fine, Tommy. I'll put it on where I can reach later and you can have it back after that."
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"Would you let me?" He means it, honestly: does she trust him enough? Would it be alright?
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"But only if you were comfortable with it."
And he hadn't seemed to be.
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He makes a soft, low sound and looks at he jar again-- is he really going to let her be in pain because he feels some kind of awkwardness, because he has feelings for her?
"I'm alright," he decides, unscrewing the lid again. "If it's okay with you it's okay with me."
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The first few inches go alright, but it becomes difficult once the fabric starts to stretch over the bruise and put more pressure on it. She's stiff still and even with the shirt barely halfway up her back it's impossible to miss the injury. She's black and blue, struggling a little to get her shirt off and holding her breath to avoid hissing in pain.
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"You should've said something earlier," he admonishes, gently, then starts tugging her shirt up and up, until its reached her shoulders and shell have to hunch to keep her chest covered.
"This alright?"
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And once the shirt is off, anyway, there's the bruise to look at before anything else. She's slender and she did fall hard and the bruise takes up half her back, looks bad enough that just the pain from it had had Rey worrying she might have had some cracked ribs, but she's checked and she's in the clear now. It's just a bruise, but it's quite impressive.
"Yes, thank you," she answers him, and the relief in her voice makes it very clear she's thanking him for helping her get the shirt of entirely. "It must be bad if it made you make that noise."
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"You sure you didn't crack anything?"
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That's absolutely not the point. And she was in the middle of talking.
"He grabbed the staff to stop me, so I hung from it and kicked him in the chest hard enough to let go. That's why I fell."
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"Still. I have talked to him, Rey, about just this bloody thing." He keeps going, steadily, with a sure touch.
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"You should still leave him be. As far as I'm concerned, this is over."
Unless he does it again. That's an entirely different situation.
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Honestly- he takes a bit to reply because he's busy watching her shoulders move. He's watching those strong shoulders shift, and he knows he's also watching her, in pain, working hard not to show any of it.
Not that he takes mercy on her: he moves right down to the sorest spots, with a fresh scoop of ointment, as he speaks in a low voice. "I'll leave him be, unless he does something stupid again."
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She's not a Shelby, but she's going to ask him how he makes that stuff anyway. It's kind of amazing.
And now that the pain is starting to fade she notices in a different way it's like to have Tommy's hands on her the way they are. She'd noticed how warm they were, but now she can feel better how gentle he's being while he works the ointment into her skin, realizes with a shock she wouldn't mind if he kept touching her even after he was done.
She would like his hands on her, smoothing down along her back, right up against her bare skin, and that's not something she's ever considered before. When he speaks she finds she likes that too, how low his voice has gotten, and she has to close her eyes and bite her lip for an entirely different reason.
What he's doing is clearly working to help her, too, and that shows in the way her shoulders are relaxing, the way her spine is less rigid and how her head drops forward just a little.
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He can't help but notice the silence that has fallen between them, too, and he doesn't open his mouth again while he works on her back.
When he's finally done, he pulls back, the warmth of his hands pulling away from her as well. "There we go. Best not put that shirt on until it's dried, eh? Don't want the stink to settle in."
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He speaks, though, and that gives her something else to think about. Of course what she thinks about is the fact that Tommy has asked her to spend more time with him with her shirt off and that's so absurd but the reason is so logical that she can't help smiling a little.
"Thank you, Tommy," she says as she turns just enough to look at him over her shoulder. It's the unbruised side of her face, no purple and blue to distract from the way her expression is more open, there's no pain there anymore, and she's still smiling at him. "That feels much better. I hadn't... Well, it hurt more than I realized."
She doesn't love admitting he was right that she needed more than just healing on her own, but it's not terrible either.
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"I'm glad I could help," he says, sincerely, as he wipes his hand on his handkerchief.
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She still hurts, but that has nothing to do with her body.
"It's been a strange day," she says absently, bringing a hand up to rub the back of he neck. She's still stiff there and there's only so much that can be done about that.
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He knows it's probably too much- really, he does. But he can't stop himself, not after what he just did.
"It has been," he agrees. "Things'll be clearer tomorrow, eh?"
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"That feels good," she says softly, bending her neck forward and all but inviting him to keep going.
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She's half-naked and leaning into his touch, and he's rubbing her neck like they're lovers instead of friends. He doesn't even know if she wants anything like what he sometimes imagines, like he has the start of. He doesn't know if she's interested in that at all, if she's ready for it, and even if she were he doesn't know if she'd pick him to try.
But he can't stop, either. She's leaning into him so sweetly, and he feels like he's helping, and he really does like her.
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