Work Text:
It had been an incredibly long day. As the Governor's number one assistant, you had been running around all day, making sure Woodbury wasn't completely falling apart. Your usual activities included taking care of residents, planning events, attending meetings, and completing every single task the Governor had, no matter how small or insignificant. Today you had been supervising as some of the workers unloaded supply trucks. None of them of course would listen to you, as you weren't actually in charge, not by their standards anyway. They only listened to Philip.
By the time you got home that night, you were exhausted. As soon as the front door closed, you were heading off to your bedroom, quick to snuggle under the covers with your book. You were just about to finish reading a page when you heard the front door slam open and then close downstairs. You jolted upward, dropping your book on the floor beside you. You quickly reached into your night table drawer and pulled out your gun, aiming it cautiously at the closed bedroom door. You heard heavy footsteps on the stairs, and they stopped at your door. The door slowly opened and you gasped. On the other side in the hallway was Philip, blood soaking the side of his face and down to his chest. You dropped your gun on the bed and rushed over to him. You pulled him inside and brought him into the lamplight. Something had been stabbed into his eye, deep. His hands gripped tightly onto your arm and shoulder, desperately clinging onto you.
"What happened?" you asked, frantically wrapping your arms around him to keep him standing. But you failed, he was dead weight as he dropped down to the ground before he could reply, into a heap of feverish flesh and blood. Though you were desperate for rest, you jumped into action to save your boss. Philip was out cold, his blood rushed from his eye socket and pooled on the floor under his head. You left him for only a moment, as you rushed into your bathroom for the first aid kit. It took all night, but as the sun was starting to rise, you had finally dug every little bit of glass out. You dropped the bloodied tweezers on the floor next to the tiny pile of glass. Philip's head was in your lap, making it easier for you to work on him. You had no medical experience whatsoever, but you had watched the Woodbury doctors perform minor surgeries many times. You cleaned the wound as best as you could and wrapped it up with long white strips of bandages. When you were done, you took off his bloodstained shirt and dragged him into your bed. You should tell someone, but leaving him alone could be risky, he could die while you were gone. As you were about to decide what to do, a soft groaning sound came from behind you. Philip was trying to sit up, but you rushed over and forced him back down. "Oh no you don't." you said, hands on his shoulders.
"Where am I?" he asked, voice deep and groggy.
"You're in my house." you said, sitting on the side of the bed next to him. "You crashed in here last night, out of your damn mind." Philip reached up to his face and felt around the bandages, he winced.
"That bitch-" he began, but the pain cut him off. You stood up and took a bottle of pills out of the first aid box. You handed them to him as you went to get a glass of water for him. When you returned, he was sitting up in bed, back against the headboard. His hands were on his lap above the covers and his eye was closed. He looked exhausted, even though he had slept through the night. Philip was still awake, but he was desperate to knock himself back out, the pain in his head was tremendous. His chest was rising and falling and he groggily took the glass of water from you as you handed it to him. You held your hand up to his forehead as he took the pain pills, he wasn't nearly as feverish as before, but he still wasn't doing great.
"It was that girl, wasn't it?" you asked him. "The one that was with Andrea...Michonne?" you recalled. He nodded weakly against the headboard.
"She...she killed Penny." he mumbled, still not quite back to earth yet. Your heart sank. You were one of the very few others who knew about Philip's daughter, you had been instructed to care for her a few times. The devastation of his lost hit you hard.
"Sir I'm...I'm so sorry." you said, your hand was still on his forehead, and you had been absentmindedly running it through his hair as he spoke.
"You know better than to call me that, (y/n)." he said, eye still closed.
"Sorry...Philip, if there's anything I can do, anything you need..." you began. His hand reached out for your free one and you stopped talking.
"Did you patch me up?" he asked, squeezing your hand slightly.
"Yes." you said. "I was scared that you were going to die on my floor." He smiled.
"A little glass isn't going to kill me." he said, breath heavy.
"Did she stab you?" you asked. Philip nodded.
"You saved me." he mumbled, starting to fall back asleep. You helped him lie back down and pulled the covers up to his shoulders. Quickly going back out of it, Philip took advantage of how close your face was to his, and he took your jaw gently into his hands and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. You kissed back, but by the time you did, Philip was already knocked out by the pills. You smiled, flushed with red. You retrieved your book from the floor, pulled up a chair, and waited for him to wake up again.