Incest/Taboo Miracle Cream

It was a clear, warm Monday morning as Celeste, along with her son, Cory, stood in the office of his high school waiting to be seen as the woman at the front helped a student out. Her emerald eyes fell upon her son; for the past four days, she has worried that once again, her son would have to be rushed off to the hospital to deal with injuries sustained from men that couldn't truly be called men. While he was still in pain, Cory was improving steadily. She knew soon his left hand would be back in a fixed cast, seeing how the incision on his hand had healed rather nicely after his stay in the hospital last week.

"You okay, honey?" Celeste asked, lightly rubbing his back as he nodded.

"Yeah, pills have kicked in, although the staples are making me itch," Cory admitted, looking down when his mother took hold of his left forearm when he was about to put that annoying little feeling out of its misery.

"Don't, honey, you might hurt yourself," Celeste spoke in a motherly tone. She has seen far too much of her son's blood; enough to last her a lifetime. "I know it itches, that means your healing."

"At least I'll get these staples out soon," Cory grumbled, knowing it would probably be another week before his stab wound had healed enough for his stitches to be removed.

"Cassy is looking forward to it," Celeste said, seeing Cory rolling his eyes, given how he could now partially open his left eye since the swelling had gone down.

"Yes, may I help you?" the woman asked, once the student had everything she needed.

"Hello, I'm Celeste Miller, and this is my son, Cory," gesturing to him, "he's a senior here, and I'm here to drop off his doctor's note informing the school that he'll be absent for the next four weeks until he's recovered from the injuries he's sustained," Celeste said, handing the woman the note Dr. Whitmore had given her.

"I'm sorry to hear that; I hope he'll recover quickly, so he doesn't miss too much," the woman said, slyly eyeing Cory's hands. "Let me get the Vice Principle, so we can work with you, so your son isn't too far behind when he returns." Seeing Celeste nod before walking off to the man's office. It wasn't long before the woman returned with a late thirties to early forties-man in tow.

"Good morning, Mrs. Miller," he said, shaking her hand. "I'm sorry to hear about your son."

"I'm right here, you know," Cory grumbled. It was always the case when his mother or sisters were around; he was pretty much forgotten.

"We can certainly help you and your son keep his grades up during his absence. The school board set up a website for those like your son, so their long absence does not affect their primary subjects. However, his elective classes won't be covered. But your son can escort you to them and speak with his teachers and make arrangements," the man said, ignoring Cory's barb and handing Celeste the slip of paper with the website on it. "He'll just have to create a screen name and what district he's in and this school so the grades he accumulates can be added to his final grades."

"Thank you, I'll make sure he does it the first thing when we get home," Celeste said, with a friendly smile.

"You're welcome; if there's anything else we can do to ensure Cory graduates on time, don't hesitate to come in again," the man said. With that, she and Cory left the office and began to walk towards his first of his elective classes.

"Yes..." Lucia gasped at the sight of Cory. She had wondered why he wasn't in class at that moment. "Oh, my God! What happened to you?!"

"A cougar mauling," Cory answered with a coy smirk.

"Hey, Lucia," Celeste spoke as she and her friend hugged in the doorway seeing her students eyeing them. Seeing Cory returning the wave that Jessica directed at him when she saw him. "We're here to see if we can't pick up Cory's assignments for the next month while he's out."

"Of course, you'll have to tell me the real reason later; let me get my lesson planner," Lucia said, seeing the both of them nodding along. "Class read the chapter we're on, and we'll discuss it later; after I see to this," she directed as she walked to her desk.

Cory nodded when Jessica mouthed, 'Are you doing okay?' She and his other friends all knew he had to go back in for surgery last week. They made it a habit of keeping him cheered up. Mike, or Michael, his given name, he just preferred to go by Mike, spent the entire Sunday at his place just to keep him company. As well as measuring the holes where the old speakers in his '69 Mustang Mach 1 429 Cobra Jet used to rest along with the opening where the old car radio once was. Cory had a wide smile on his face when his friend's jaws dropped at the sight of the car when he showed it to them. That Saturday, his mother and sisters, with him fetching tools given the lack of use of his hands, successfully removed the front and rear seats from the interior, so they could be shipped off to be reupholstered. His mother, with his father on the phone, didn't even bat an eye when he told them he wanted leather seats. The person who was doing the work said he'd be by to pick them up tomorrow.. Cory just hoped they could make the dragon that was to be embroidered on the driver's seat look as cool as it appeared in his head.

Cory just hoped Mike could get that discount on that radio and speakers he told him about. While his parents were paying for the items needed to restore the car to a drivable condition, he was on the hook for the radio and speakers, the paint he was already going to pay for, given it was going to cost him one hundred and fifty dollars for each can of the custom paint. So, he was dipping into the money he had saved up over the past two years for when he would have, if the colleges had accepted him, left home, yet he knew it was for a good cause. He had an appointment with his father's coworker's paint guy later in the day, which Cassy would be taking him to, given how no one would be home in time for it.

"Come here, Cory," Lucia said, from her chair. While her primary teaching class was English, she covered this elective class on her free periods to earn a little extra money. "Here's what we'll be going over in the next month," noting the wide eyes of her students when Cory walked into the room and came to a stop at her desk, "I'm sure you got the website... Good," seeing him nod, "you just read these chapters, and I'll get worksheets printed out for you and drop them off by Wednesday. If you have any other worksheets handed to you, you just call me, and I'll come pick them up and turn them in to your teachers for you. Although... minds on your books, class," she spoke in that authoritative voice when she saw more eyes on them than their books. Rising from her chair, gesturing him towards the door.

"What happened to you?" Came the question from somewhere within the classroom.

"You remember those old Smoky the Bear commercials?" Cory replied to the unknown speaker.

"Yeah?!" Came their collective reply.

"Well, sad, sad, sad news," shaking his head, "don't do meth. It makes you paranoid and crazy?! We had to put him down, poor guy," Cory sniffled, playing up his joke, seeing Jessica fighting herself from laughing along with her peers. Nodding when she mouthed, 'I'll call you later.' Their chuckles followed Cory out of the room and died away when Lucia closed the door behind them.

"Cory, when you do the tests on the website, just take your time; there's no timer on them. If you have any questions, you know my number, and I'll be happy to go over the work with you. As for the tests in this class... I'll have to administer them at your home," Lucia said, with a sultry smile. All through the break, she had been dying for a good fucking. Not that her husband was a subpar lover, far from it, yet no one filled her like Cory had done on numerous occasions. "Would that be alright with you, Celeste?" she asked, looking over at her friend, who was nodding along.

"Yes, it will. Whatever it takes to keep Cory on the path to graduate this summer. I don't want him missing out on his first day at UNC," Celeste said, with a prideful smile.

"Congratulations?! We'll work extra hard to make sure you do. I'll call you later," Lucia said, resting her hand on the door handle, only wanting to bend over and touch the floor. All so, Cory could have his way with her eager little pussy.

"So any girls here I should know about?" Celeste teased as they walked through the halls towards his next class.

"More than you think," Cory stated vaguely.

"Oh? Is that so?!" Celeste mused, not eager for competition for the dragon in his pants. Memories of her own days in high school flared in her mind as the bell rang overhead. Quickly darting behind her son so as not to be crushed and trampled as the students poured out of their classrooms.

With a stop to his locker to get his textbooks he would be needing to do the assigned work while recuperating. Celeste had noticed how all those high school boys were checking her out as she walked beside her son. Some were cute, some had potential, others just did nothing for her -- namely the ones too full of themselves. She wondered if she would have some new prospects soon. Placing his books in the rear seat of her car and helping Cory into the front seat. The two of them set off for home.

"Okay, honey, I have to go to work," Celeste said, after making sure Cassy had everything she needed until Dayana and Zoe got home from their classes. Seeing him nod as he stood by the counter waiting for his cup of coffee to brew. "You know if you keep drinking them so fast and run out, I won't go buy anymore for two weeks." Trying to keep her smile from showing at the genuine fear on her son's face.

"You wouldn't?! You wouldn't deprive an addict, would you?" Cory asked, in a mournful tone.

"I would. You have a problem, Cory; you first have to admit it," Celeste spoke, watching how Cory hung his head.

"How can you be so cruel?!"

"It's for your own good," Celeste stated, placing her right hand on his left shoulder. "If I was cruel, you'd only get to smell it," she said, with a wicked grin at his widening eyes.

"I don't even know you anymore," Cory muttered, noting how Cassy was trying not to laugh.

"I'll just have to reacquaint you," Celeste whispered, placing a kiss on his left cheek, the cheek she had first kissed after he had pounded her into that motel bed. "You call me if anything happens," she directed, peering at Cassy as the straps of her purse rested on her shoulders.

"I will," Cassy nodded. "Now that it's just the two of us," turning to face him as Cory took a sip of his coffee, "the war can renew in earnest!" she exclaimed, causing Cory to arch an eyebrow.

It was a quarter to two in the afternoon when Cassy pulled up to the building that housed the custom paint shop. Her deep glacial blue eyes ran over the sign that read Three Suns Paint with three different colored suns over the name. Quickly shutting off her car, unbuckling herself, and getting out of her car.

"You enjoy these seats?!" Cory asked; it felt like something was digging into his back.

"Someone must have put the lumbar on; they're very comfortable, I assure you," Cassy said, helping him out of her car. Slapping his hand away when he started to scratch his chest. "You'll get them removed next week. Just bear with it a little longer."

"Easy for you to say, you're not the one that feels like bugs are crawling beneath your skin," Cory grumbled.

"It's too early for the staples to come out. There's a good chance your laceration hasn't healed enough to remain fully closed without them given its size," Cassy said, in a clinical tone as they walked towards the front door.

"I thought Pixies were supposed to be magic?! So, go poof, and I'll be all better!" Cory mused.

"Can't. Pixies aren't allowed to use magic on dragons; they get rather ornery if we do," Cassy shot back as she held the door open for him.

"Damnable treaties," Cory bemoaned to the sky.

"Yes, how can I help you?" asked the man as he walked out from the rear of the shop when he heard the chime go off.

"Hello, I called yesterday about having a special mix of paint made for me," Cory stated when he stepped up to the counter while Cassy hanged back near the door.

"Ah. Right! The guy that wanted the two-tone, metallic paint," he said, nodding that he remembered. "That's not a problem to make, although it is expensive. I did tell you the price of it, didn't I?"

"You did; that's not a problem. I was wondering if you could," leaning in, so Cassy wouldn't overhear, "if you could match a blue to her eyes."

"Oh? Is she like..." Cocking an eyebrow when Cory shook his head.

"They're just a very nice color, and I thought it would look good on the Mustang," Cory stated, seeing the look of recognition in the man's eyes.

"You're the one Greg called me about?" Referring to Jairo's coworker, the former owner of that classic car.

"That will be me," Cory nodded.

"Just wait a moment; let me get my blue paint samples," he said, before heading back out into the rear of his shop.

"Cory, just what kind of paint job are you going for?" Cassy asked, once she stepped up to the counter beside him.

"You'll just have to wait and see," Cory stated with a sneaky smile. Noting how the man was looking through his samples as he walked back into the front, and how he slyly glanced up as he examined the color of Cassy's irises.

"Is this the color you're looking for?" he asked, laying the sample strip down that contained three samples of the same color in different shades.

"Yes, that's the one," Cory said, his right index finger tapped the middle one.

"And what's your choice of color for the two-tone?"

"Black."

"Give me a few minutes, and I'll make a special small-batch for you, just so you can see if it will be a good match for the car."

"Okay," Cory said, only after seeing Cassy nod, since she had class later that night.

"Alright, here's your sample, now how will you be paying for this?" the man asked, setting the one ounce can before Cory.

"Do you take debit?"

"I do." Looking over when Cassy placed a hand on his trembling left arm as the pain got to him as he struggled to pull out his debit card. "You alright?"

"Just a lot of pain today," Cory answered, handing over his card.

"I can imagine," the man said, in a sympathetic voice.

"Okay, if you come back Friday, I'll have your order ready by then. If you don't like the look of it, we can try adding pearls to it or a different color altogether. No charge if that happens."

"Thank you, oh, how long can I store the paint before I have to use it?" Cory asked, as he tucked away his card and replaced his wallet in his back pocket.

"I'm assuming you'll be done soon with the restoration? Then you needn't worry, it will still be good when you do. Greg knows how to prep the paint if the oil and pigment separates."

"That's a relief," Cory sighed.

"You have a good day, and thank you again for choosing me," the man said, with a friendly smile.

"Why did it feel like that man was looking at me?" Cassy asked, when they were outside.

"Might be the hair. It lets everyone know we have a murderous Pixie on our hands," Cory spoke, easing down into the passenger seat. "Can you like turn off that lumbar thing?" he asked once he was settled.

"Cory, you're taking a risk being alone with a murderous Pixie; how do you know I wouldn't just make you disappear?" Cassy asked, with a coy smile, after buckling his seatbelt.

"Because you're not stupid. My brethren will rise up if I turn up missing. Even the Pixies can't with stand the might of all the dragons when we're enraged," Cory spoke, playing up their little fantasy war they had going on.

"Not if all the Pixies banded together to tame the dragons," Cassy retorted with a smile on her lips as she turned the knob to remove the lumbar support from the seat. "Better?"

"Much," Cory nodded.

Later that night...

"Cory, what are you doing out here?" Dayana asked, as she stepped out into the garage, seeing Cory sitting on the concrete floor with his back against the wall as he stared at the right door of his Mustang. Her eyes glanced over to the workbench seeing the small, clean paint brush laying on top of an equally small can.

"Seeing if I would like the color I chose," Cory answered without looking at her.

"Oh?" Dayana cooed, scurrying over to him and lowering herself beside him. "I thought you were going with two-toned?" she inquired, when all she saw was black staring back at her.

"I did; the light just doesn't hit the paint right in here," Cory said, handing her a small flashlight. "Point it at the paint."

Her gasp filled the air as those metal flakes reflected the light, revealing the deep glacial blue that the man had handmade from scratch. "Oh my, it's going to look so beautiful," Dayana said, looking over at her brother. Imagining what it would look like cruising down the road, the sun gleaming along the paint job, the rumble of the engine and exhaust traveling up her spine. The horsepower that would send her back into her seat when Cory stepped on the gas. The feel of her hair whipping about from the open window as they sped down the streets of their hometown.

"I know," Cory said, with a happy grin on his face as he watched how those metal flakes danced in her eyes.

"Did you order the new carpet?" Dayana asked. Even though she, and she knew for sure Zoe, didn't like crawling under the car to unbolt the seats. Still, the way they all worked together, namely with working beside Cory, showed her while things might be tough now; that Cory still had that anger, that pain buried deep within him, maybe, just maybe, as they brought that car back to life, they might be able to bring their relationship out of the ash heap.

"Should be here sometime next week," Cory nodded. "Although I'm just wondering how we're going to get those dents out, also I want to put a louver on the back..." he said, "here," handing her his phone with a picture of a '69 Mustang Fastback with one of them installed on it. "But... it looks like more than we can handle."

"Then let's call Dad and see if that man knows how to do it and get pointers," Dayana said, with determination. "Hey, Dad, it's me because we're in the garage looking at the paint that's going to be on the car when it's ready. Okay, hold on," keeping the light shining on the paint as she took a photo of it with Cory's phone and texted it to their father, "I sent it to you," she said, once she returned Cory's phone to her ear. "I know! It's going to look amazing!" Dayana replied when Jairo commented on how good the paint looks. "Dad, do you think that man... what was it called again?"

"A louver," Cory supplied.

"Would know about putting a louver on the back of the car? We don't think we'd be able to do it ourselves and not mess up the car. Okay," Dayana said, when Jairo told her to hang on. Hearing his hotel door opening and then closing behind him over the line. "Yep, he's doing good. No hiccups, so far," she answered when he asked about how Cory was doing. "Yep, all four of us worked to get the seats out. Didn't that man say he would be here tomorrow to pick them up?" Dayana asked, looking at her brother, who nodded. "No, it wasn't hard; I just had to jack up the car to get to the seat bolts. Dirty, but pretty easy," she said, a little proud of herself. "Yes, Cory's already ordered the new carpet. The liner looked pretty good, so I don't think we'll be needing to tear it out. Although, Cory was wondering how we were going to get the dents out before it goes to be painted. Okay, one sec, you're on speaker Dad," Dayana said, holding Cory's phone between them.

"Hey, Cory, how you doing?"

"Oh, you know, pain, itchy, the usual," Cory replied.

"But no setbacks, right?"

"None so far."

"Good. I'm glad to hear that; maybe that stomach of yours will cooperate now," Jairo joked, causing his son to snort.

"That's like asking for the moon," Cory retorted.

"Hey, I can lasso that thing and pull it down. If I wanted to."

"Well, aren't you just special," Cory taunted.

"I am; how do you think I landed your mother? The people begged me to put the moon back into place, so the tides could rise again."

"You haven't lost Wilson yet, have you?" Cory countered, hearing his father's chuckle over the line. Then he heard the knock on a door.

"Hey, Greg, it's Jairo; I was wondering if you had a minute to talk, it's about the car?" Their wait didn't last long before the sound of the door opened over the line.

"What's up?"

"Go on, Cory, ask."

"Hi," Cory greeted.

"Hello, young man, what can I do you for?"

"Was wondering how we were going to get these dents out before it heads to paint?"

"Oh, you leave the dents to me; I have the tools and the expertise to make sure the metal is just like it rolled off the factory floor. Not saying you all can't do it. Yet, some of those dents are pretty deep, so it will take some controlled force to properly get the sheet metal back into place."

"Ah. Okay, that solves that problem; also, I was wondering if you could tell me how to put a louver on the back window," Cory inquired politely, hearing the man whistle over the line.

"You're really going all in, huh?"

"Yeah, I love this car, have Dad show you the paint I'm having mixed up," Cory said, with excitement in his voice.

"So you've already seen my guy?"

"Yep, saw him around two this afternoon; said the paint should be ready by Friday. Got to thank you, that man made exactly what I wanted," Cory spoke with a wide smile on his face.

"Yes, I can see, that does look good on it. Nice touch with the metal flakes; it's really going to make that car pop when it's all done."

"Thank you."

"Well, I wouldn't suggest you go getting the one that sticks to the window with tape. But the other one is extremely difficult given that the liner is still in. It'll take precision to install it. Have you got the new carpet yet?"

"Yeah, should be here next week."

"What about the seats?"

"Already out and waiting for pickup," Cory answered.

"Moving right along, aren't you?"

"Mmmhmm," Cory hummed.

"Well, given that drilling holes in the roof shouldn't be done by an amateur, no offense."

"None, taken," Cory replied. He and everyone was an amateur when it came to working on the Mustang.

"If you get it, I'll install it for you when you bring it over to get painted. How does that sound?"

"Sounds great! Thank you, so much!" Cory said, unable to hide his giddiness.

"Oh, I was meaning to tell your father this tomorrow, but since you're on the line and all. The man who had the shaker hood for the car sold it, but he put me in contact with another supplier that has one for that model of car. He'll be at the car show this weekend in Hillsborough. Look for the booth called Pete's Classic and Vintage Parts. Have you looked into having that steering wheel restored?"

"Yeah, but everyone I talked to after I sent pictures of it to them told me it would just be cheaper to buy an aftermarket one or an already restored one given the work that it would take to restore that one," Cory sighed, not sure what he was going to do about all those cracks and missing pieces of the plastic on it.

"Yeah, I thought as much. Don't you go buying anything from anyone. If my guy says Pete's your man, you can trust him not to rip you off. He might not have a steering wheel for that model of car, but I'm quite certain he has other salvaged, perfectly good, and restored steering wheels of Mustangs. If he has a shaker hood, then he's bound to have a steering wheel. They're interchangeable, so you'll just have to ask if he has a 69 wheel from a normal mustang. They were slightly bigger than the earlier models, so it wouldn't look right if you got one before then. It shouldn't cost too much."

"Do you know the name of this car show?" Cory asked, watching Dayana typing into google as they listened. "I'll make sure to be there the moment it opens Saturday," he said, when Dayana showed him the time it would open.

"That's what I like to hear?! Now was there anything else you wanted to ask?"

"Are the hood clips in with the other parts you brought along?"

"They are."

"Then that's all I got at the moment," Cory stated, so eager for Saturday to come. He wanted to see what other people had done to their interiors and maybe get some ideas for his down the road when he had the extra money to do such a thing. However, for now, his account was pretty tapped getting the car road-ready, so he didn't have any extra to do all the interior, like new door panels, new handles given the pits in the chrome. He was just going to have to rely on products to bring the old vinyl back to its original shine. He knew it would take a lot of elbow grease, yet as his eyes fell on that classic car, he knew it was so going to be worth it.

"Then I bid you and your father a good night."

"Thank you, and sorry if we disturbed you," Cory quickly said before the man returned to his room.

"You're quite welcome. See you in the morning, Jairo."

"Night, Greg." With that, the sound of Greg's room door echoed over the line. "I think you made his day."

"Huh?" Cory asked, confused.

"I haven't seen him smile like that in a year."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I think you reminded him of the good times he had with his son."

"Ah." Cory really didn't know what to say to that.

"Okay, I've had a long day. I'm going to call your mother, then hit the hay. You two behave yourselves. Cory, you call me tomorrow when you get done at your doctor's appointment."

"Alright, Dr. Whitmore will probably put me back in a cast tomorrow," Cory said, looking down at his hand. Noting how the incision had healed rather nicely since last week.

"If she does, I want to know, alright?"

"Mmmkay," Cory hummed.

"Good night, you two; I love you both."

"I love you too, Dad," Dayana responded, noting how the words didn't come out of Cory's mouth when the line went dead. "Cory, why didn't you say it back?"

"You all have far more to go before I even utter those words," Cory said, in a monotone voice.

"But... you'll say it eventually, right?"

"If or when you all redeem yourselves, I might."

"Then I'm going to work extra hard," seeing Cory turning his gaze towards her when her left hand took hold of his right arm, "I will earn it; you can count on it. Now, come on, let's go get you ready for bed. I know your medication must be wearing off by now," Dayana said, helping Cory off that hard, cold concrete floor.

The next day...

"Cory, you can come on back," Dr. Whitmore said, as she stood holding open the door that separated the waiting room from her examining rooms. "How are you feeling today? Any complications from last week?" she asked, leading him to exam room three.

"No, not that I have noticed," Cory said truthfully, with Cassy tagging along.

"How's the pain this morning?" Dr. Whitmore asked, gesturing for Cory to take his place on the examining table.

"Back to an eight, feels like I'm on a seesaw," Cory stated plainly.

"I bet it feels like that," Dr. Whitmore nodded. "I'm going to take your splint cast off so I can check your hand and see if it's healed enough to go back into a fixed cast," she spoke, bringing the stabilizing table around so his fingers wouldn't become misaligned without the support of the splint cast keeping them in place. Flashing Cassy a smile when she held out her hand once she slid the temporary cast off Cory's hand. "Yes, yes, it's healing quite nicely," Dr. Whitmore mused, as she examined the one-inch incision on the top of his hand. "I think we can remove these stitches and get you back into a cast today. We'll just apply some liquid skin to the wound so the fiberglass doesn't irritate the incision while you're back in the cast. But first, I want to check on your reflex in your finger just to be sure complete feeling has returned to it, alright?" Seeing Cory nodding in understanding. "I promise, this won't hurt too much," she said, before lightly jabbing the head of a pin into the tip of his finger, watching it flex responding to the unknown stimuli. "Good, good, can you feel my finger?" Dr. Whitmore asked, as she ran the pad of her finger down the length of it. Smiling when Cory vehemently nodded that he could. "It appears the surgery was successful in restoring feeling to it. That's excellent news, now if something happens that you suddenly stop feeling it again or it diminishes in any way, you inform me at once."

"Yes, Doc," Cory spoke with certainty.

"Once your cast is dry, we'll see if your staples are ready to be removed."

"I'm so ready for those things to come out!" Cory said, with conviction.

"I'll be just a few minutes," Dr. Whitmore said, before leaving the room.

"Pixie?"

"Yes, Cory?"

"Do you think they're ready to come out?"

"I... don't think they are. Given the size, the direction, and how deep the laceration was. No. I don't think ten days is enough time," Cassy spoke truthfully.

"You saying that to be truthful with me or so you can mack on my sister some more?" Cory asked, in a teasing light. Watching those cheeks of hers heating. "Because I think you spend more time at my place than your own."

"I... I..."

"Speechless?! So unlike you, have the gnomes stolen away with your tongue?"

"Shut up?!" Cassy huffed.

"Aw, should I barter with them for its return?" Cory asked, with a widening smile.

"Do you always have to be like this?" Cassy grumbled, not fond of being on the other end of his taunts.

"I torture all my friends."

"Oh?!" Cassy uttered, raising her left eyebrow. "So we're friends now? I thought we were just acquaintances who've had sex and nothing more," she said, throwing his words back at him. Watching him shake his right hand to say 'so-so.'

"Depends on the day."

"Really?" Cassy inquired, crossing her arms.

"Sometimes you're just annoying as fuck, other times you're okay," Cory said, shrugging his shoulders.

"And how is today turning out?"

"Leaning towards the second one," Cory admitted. Looking towards the door as his doctor and her nurse walked back into the room carrying what they needed to make the cast.

"You might feel some discomfort and some blood, but that's normal. If the wound opens up, we'll forgo the cast for another four days until it's healed enough to stay closed on its own. However, I'm not expecting difficulties with this size of an incision," Dr. Whitmore stated, trying not to eye his chest. That was what had her worried the most, the laceration on his chest. While the normal allotted time has passed for his staples to be removed, the size of it had her concerned. She had no idea how deep it was, so she couldn't speculate on how much healing his body has done to the wound.

"Okay," Cory nodded. It felt so weird feeling the thread moving through his skin as she pulled it out after cutting the sutures open. While there was some blood it was very minor given all the blood he had lost last week and the week before that.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Dr. Whitmore asked, in a light tone, with a smile on her lips. Seeing him shake his head as she layered on the liquid skin over the incision. "There that will help to keep your wound closed until it's fully healed," handing the bottle to her nurse, "while that dries, we'll start prepping for the cast."

"How long will it have to stay on for this time?"

"For the rest of the month. It should come off by the time you're ready to head back to school," Dr. Whitmore said, in a matter-of-fact tone.

Cory watched as his doctor wrapped his hand in the first layer while the nurse made sure to keep his fingers in line with his knuckles while Dr. Whitmore wrapped them to keep them immobilized during the duration. Then moving back down his fingers until the cotton roll was gone, applying another layer and a half to equal three layers before applying the outer layer to it. "Gloria, please hand me the first roll of fiberglass," Dr. Whitmore said, holding out her hand. "I hope you don't mind if it's red," she uttered with a smile as she repeated the process as she did with the cotton layer after her nurse had squeezed out the excess water from the fiberglass. She liked using very hot water given that it would speed up the curing time compared to lukewarm water.

"Nope, although I think I've seen enough red in the shade of blood for a while," Cory joked.

"Yes, I can imagine," Dr. Whitmore nodded in understanding. "Now that should set in five minutes, so you aren't hanging around here for the next hour and a half for the cast to dry, Thank you, Gloria, you can remove that," Dr. Whitmore nodded towards the tray as she removed her gloves and tossed them into the waste bin while she waited for his cast to harden. Taking her seat at the desk against the wall and opening up his medical file. "Cory, did they tell you how deep your laceration was?"

"Nope, I was kind of out of it after the stabbing, or so I'm told," Cory replied.

"Ah. You were probably in shock," Dr. Whitmore stated, which was true. "A traumatic event such as that can have that effect on your mind. So," turning towards him, trying not to notice she saw his dangly bits when she did, "I'm going, to be frank with you. While yes, normally, staples on a patient's chest come out in seven to ten days. I'm not sure yours can be removed yet; we'll do a little test. If your wound reopens, I'll have to stitch you up, since I do not carry surgical staples here. I just don't want to get your hopes up."

"I understand," Cory said, slyly glancing at Cassy, knowing she said the same thing.

"Now, if you help your patient to remove his shirt, we'll see if those staples can be removed," Dr. Whitmore stated after checking to see if the cast has hardened enough after the five-minute interval.

"Yes, doctor," Cassy replied instantly.

"Look at you, hopping to like a good..." Chuckling from the depths of his shirt when she playfully slapped his side when he teased her.

"Now lay back, and I'll begin at your shoulder and work my way down," Dr. Whitmore directed, knowing that would be the least likely place to cause massive bleeding if the wound hadn't sealed enough to stay closed under its own volition. Cursing in her mind when his wound did what she feared it would do as she removed the fifth staple. "Third door on your left from the wall there's gauze in there fetch it quickly!" Dr. Whitmore ordered as she held the wound closed. "I'm sorry, Cory, it seems you're not ready to have them removed yet."

"How long?" Cory asked, ignoring how his blood-stained her latex gloves.

"I'm going to wait the max time for this. So it will be another eleven days before they have to come out. If your wound isn't staying closed by then... we'll have to rely on stitches," Dr. Whitmore said, already imagining the hand cramp that would come from suturing up that large of a wound.

"Here you are, doctor," Cassy said, handing her the sanitized gauze.

"Gloves are on the desk, grab a pair, and keep pressure on the wound while I fetch the suture kit," Dr. Whitmore stated, she wouldn't have involved Cassy if she didn't have some medical training, and at that moment, she could use an extra set of hands. "I won't be long," she said, tossing her gloves into the red bio-hazard box before darting out the room. "Gloria, I need you in exam room three, stat!" Cory could hear his doctor's voice from somewhere within her building. Cassy quickly moved out of the way when Gloria rushed into the room and after she had donned the appropriate protective gear.

"Well, I'm surprised you didn't faint," Cory teased as Cassy stuffed her soiled gloves into that same red box.

"I was there that night, Cory. That was nothing compared to that night," Cassy said, remembering how covered his chest was.

"Oh?" Seeing her nod in response to his question, "I better have went down fighting," Cory stated, knowing he did; he just couldn't remember anything after the stabbing.

"I can't say on that part. I got there when the police were already there," Cassy said, moving to stand on his left side to keep his focus on her.

"Then you missed all the fun."

"How can you joke about that?"

"How can I not? Look at me, Cassy, look at how my life has played out. If I don't poke fun at it, I'll go fucking mad. I'm not kidding," Cory said, in all seriousness.

"It couldn't have been all that bad, could it?" Cassy asked, truly interested in finding out the answer. Listening to Cory hiss as Gloria cleaned the wound before Dr. Whitmore injected the site with a local anesthetic.

"I know your girlfriend far better than you do," Cory said, darkly.

"What are you talking about?"

"Get her mad, and you'll see a glimpse of what she's truly like. Words are just pretty little things that flow off one's lips. Actions, actions tell you about a person's true character, and I've had a front-row seat to hers for five years," Cory hissed as the needle pinched his skin.

"Sorry, Cory," Dr. Whitmore spoke.

"It's alright Doc, I've had worse."

"Are you trying to get me to break up with Zoe?" Cassy asked, digging deeper into his reasoning as to why he would tell her this.

"No. Whether you date or not, it's not really my concern. Just giving you fair warning of what lies beneath," Cory stated ominously.

"What if I never see it? What then?"

"Then be grateful that you haven't seen how venomous she can be when provoked," Cory said, feeling the last tug of the thread before his doctor snipped it off.

"Well, Cory, you're all cleaned up; you can put your shirt back on," Dr. Whitmore said, lightly patting his shoulder. "How does Saturday at eleven sound for your next appointment?" she asked, as she looked through her appointment list eleven days in advance.

"Shucks, and I was planning on larping that day," Cory joked, causing the good doctor to chuckle lightly as she shook her head once Cassy had eased his shirt down.

"I'll take that as a 'yes, you'll be here'," Dr. Whitmore stated as she wrote him into her appointment book.

"Definitely."

"Well, Cory, apart from the fiasco with your staples, you seem to be healing rather well. Your day nurse is taking very good care of you."

"Don't tell her that; her head is already as big as a house! However am I to fit it into the car?! Don't let her fool you, she likes the whip more than the carrot... ow!" Cory jumped when Cassy slapped in on his back. "See! Patient abuse!"

"You'll be just fine," Dr. Whitmore mused with a smile on her lips. While she tried, really tried not to notice it, yet couldn't help but stare at his root from her peripheral vision.

"You're in the cabal too?!" Cory gasped. "It's a conspiracy!"

"You never cease to amaze me with what comes out of that mouth," Dr. Whitmore mused as she turned to face him.

"It's a gift," Cory said, shrugging his shoulders.

"So he's always been like this?" Cassy asked, looking at his doctor.

"Ever since he's became my patient," Dr. Whitmore nodded. "Come, I'll see you two out. Now if anything happens I'm just a call away, you two have a pleasant rest of the day," she said, before gesturing to her next patient to enter.

"Well, at least I know the weird shit that comes out of that mouth isn't a new thing; I was starting to wonder if you hit your head on something that night and no one caught it," Cassy said, as they walked to her car.

"Hey."

"Yeah?" Cassy stopped in her tracks, remembering what happened the last time they were there.​