Jordan counted the ice cubes as he pushed them through the opening in the old fashioned ice bag. "One, two...eight, nine...nineteen, twenty." He twisted the cap closed and shook the bag to evenly distribute the contents and then held it up. "Here. Sorry about the, uh--"
"You hitting me in the face?" Bryce took the offered ice bag and gently placed it on his right cheek, against where the bone ran prominently beneath his eye. He'd always been slightly vain about his somewhat chiseled looks, and his broad cheekbones had been a major part of that. Of course, now he also realized that meant having them front and center when people got clumsy. Almost like a target, waiting to be hit. "I know you didn't mean it. But, geez, man. I've got an interview tomorrow. You couldn't have accidentally knocked me afterwards?"
"I didn't know you were that close, and the lid was stuck." Jordan shrugged. "Sorry."
The cold felt good against his skin, and Bryce dared to hope that a bruise wouldn't develop from Jordan's elbow attack. He wouldn't have cared, except Bryce wanted to make a good impression at his interview. Management positions like this didn't come along that often, and he'd wanted to show up looking his best.
"It'll probably be fine. I've certainly taken worse."
Jordan's expression didn't waiver from anxious and guilty.
"Come on. Might has well watch some tv while I let the ice do its thing. Rest and ice, and maybe I won't look like a clown for my interview tomorrow." Bryce led them into the living room. He sat down on the couch, careful to not jostle his face any more than necessary. He could still feel the echo of the impact beneath his skin.
Jordan followed his lead and gingerly perched on the edge of the cushion. He handed the remote over.
Bryce flipped through a few stations until he found something on--some sort of action adventure movie he couldn't remember the name of--that would keep his attention. Then he leaned back and held the ice bag in place on his cheek.
"It's been twenty minutes," Jordan said after a suitably long time. "You need to let it warm up and then reapply. Do you need more ice?"
Bryce pulled the ice bag away. That half of his face was numbed and quite cold, although he'd been paying attention enough to not let the cold become so severe he damaged his skin. "In a minute." Bryce set the ice bag aside. He wrapped his hand around Jordan's wrist and tugged him closer.
Jordan leaned in. "Yes?"
"You forgot to kiss and make it better."
The anxious look vanished, finally, and a small smile came to Jordan's lips. "I can do that." He walked his fingers up the side of Bryce's face, spider-like.
With his skin so cold, it felt oddly distant and somewhat unreal. "How's it look?" Bryce asked.
"Fine," Jordan said. "Not even puffy a little. I don't think it'll show." He placed his lips against Bryce's cheek and fluttered a kiss against his skin. "But you're so cold."
He hovered his mouth over the skin and huffed warm air. Jordan's fingers played at the edges of the injured area, rubbing in front of Bryce's ear and fiddling about at the bridge of his nose. He kissed Bryce's cheek so softly that he barely felt it. Then, Jordan dropped another kiss, and then another again. His lips were soft and pliant, and just thinking of them made Bryce's interests jolt up. The kisses trailed down his face to the start of the curve on Bryce's ear.
Suddenly, the skin on Bryce's face felt tight and warm. He wheezed out hot air from his lungs and tried to gulp in cooler air. "Jordan," he whispered.
"Shhh," Jordan said. "You're all flushed." He pulled away and grabbed the bag of ice. Then he pushed off the couch. "Let me refill this. You don't want to bruise."
"Not sure I care anymore," Bryce said, and he meant it.
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