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It’s a long road to recovery, Hallan is discovering. Eris jokes that he’s freezer-burnt; that he was in cryo for too long, and now the recovery process is taking longer than normal as a result. Or maybe it had something to do with the weakened synapses from the Dogma virus. Whatever it is, it’s making it difficult to get back up and act like nothing ever happened.
Eris is very helpful. He seems to intuitively know that Hallan won’t go anywhere with a cane, and is instead sticking with him, being Hallan’s support whenever he wants to walk somewhere. It’s very sweet.
It’s also very distracting. Eris is, and Hallan doesn’t want to admit it, gorgeous. His brown eyes are hypnotic and his hair is so, so soft. When he supports Hallan, the commander can feel the muscles in his arms and shoulders moving, and Hallan begins thinking things that. he’s never thought before about anyone. Things like, I wish I could get you out of your shirt, and The things I would do with you if I could actually physically support myself. They’re unusual thoughts, things Hallan has never had to deal with before, and they’re...distracting.
Oh, there was that kiss, the one right after getting out of cryo. Hallan doesn’t know what came over him at that moment. It was the relief, he’s fairly certain. The shock and the relief. Nothing more. Nothing like attraction. He’s a Time Lord, he’s not supposed to feel those sorts of feelings. Which makes those thoughts he gets about Eris a bit of a problem.
For his part, Eris seems to be a bit awkward. Maybe that’s just how Eris is—Hallan certainly doesn’t know. But maybe it’s because of that kiss. Those kisses, actually. That snogging session in the medbay. Maybe Eris is struggling with the same kinds of thoughts Hallan is. Or maybe he doesn’t care for Hallan at all, and is embarrassed at the momentary lapse in judgement in the medbay. Hallan isn’t sure why that particular possibility hurts the most, but it does.
One morning, as Hallan is struggling to get out of bed (he doesn’t need help, he doesn’t need help, he...alright, maybe he needs help), Eris comes into his room to see if he needs any help. Which, alright, he does. But this morning is different from the other mornings, because this morning, both men are shirtless.
Normally, Hallan sleeps in clothes. That’s the proper thing to do, the Time Lord thing to do. But last night, it was too warm in his room, and he couldn’t get up and adjust the temperature because he couldn’t walk on his own, so he just took off his shirt. He was going to put it back on, but he forgot. It happens to everyone. Even Time Lords.
“I’m so sorry, Hallan,” Eris is saying, and Hallan has to drag his attention away from Eris’s bare chest, from the muscles in his arms, from the everything. “I slept in on accident, as soon as I woke up I came running over here. I know I’m late, I—” And then he pauses. It takes Hallan a moment to process, but he thinks Eris is staring at his chest. Eris coughs. “Er...did I walk in at a bad time?” he asks, and Hallan can hear the embarrassment in his voice.
Hallan very determinedly stares somewhere other than Eris, because right now he looks very attractive, and Hallan isn’t supposed to be having these thoughts because he’s a Time Lord, and Time Lords don’t act like this. He shouldn’t be this distracted by the sight of bare skin, it’s wrong. But it’s not even just the skin, it’s everything else. Eris clearly just woke up; his hair, his beautiful dark-brown hair is disheveled, mussed up, and he’s still blinking sleep out of his eyes, and it’s all too damn attractive.
“Here,” says Eris. “I’ll help you get up, if you’re ready.” He’s still staring, not quite at Hallan’s face.
“Much appreciated,” Hallan grunts, trying to keep his voice from displaying how very embarrassed he’s feeling right now. Part of him says he should at least wait until they’re both dressed to have Eris help him up, that this is wrong and inappropriate and against everything he’s ever been taught. Another part of him is telling him to pull Eris down onto the bed with him and kiss him senseless, or maybe ask for his help in the shower or something, just to let him know these feelings are still there. There’s a third part of him that’s still too shocked at Eris’s appearance to do anything other than sit there blankly, a sort of mental white noise that’s blocking out helpful things like reason and logic.
Eris comes around to the side of the bed, ready to help Hallan stand up. He’s patient, as always, and unusually quiet. He’s still staring. “Hang on,” says Hallan suddenly. “I’m going to try and stand up by myself.”
“Are you sure?” Eris asks, his brown eyes flicking up to meet Hallan’s blue ones.
“Of course I am,” Hallan replies. He tries to cover up his emotions with annoyance.
Eris steps back. “If you insist,” he says. “But I’m right here to catch you, just to be safe.” He looks worried. It’s sweet. Hallan realizes that that’s how he thinks of a lot of the things Eris does and says. Eris is sweet.
He swings his legs around, over the edge of the bed, and plants his hands firmly on either side of him. It’s just getting out of bed. He’ll be fine. He can do this. He pushes up with his arms, feeling the muscles strain, and stands up.
And promptly collapses, his legs buckling as soon as he stands up. He pitches towards the floor, but strong arms catch him, and Eris’s cool skin is suddenly in contact with his own, and Hallan’s brain short circuits.
“Come on,” says Eris gently. “You’ll get better, I promise. Just a little freezer-burnt.” He situates Hallan’s arm around his shoulders—Hallan is taller, after all—and begins walking slowly, carefully. Hallan helps as best he can, trying to hold up his own weight as much as possible. It’s difficult, especially with the additional skin-on-skin contact. Hallan doesn’t have to imagine what’s under Eris’s shirt, because he can see it clearly. It’s messing with his mind, messing with his senses.
“Hang on,” he says suddenly. “I need to sit back down. Can we head back to the bed?”
Eris nods. “Are you okay?” he asks. “Are you feeling ill or something? I’m sorry, I should have asked you—”
“I’m fine,” Hallan says. It’s a lie, but the truth behind it is that the only thing that can make him feel better is Eris. He has to get it off his chest, so to speak. And maybe get Eris on his.
He sits on the edge of the bed, and pulls Eris down to sit next to him. At least the strength has returned to his arms. “I have a confession to make,” he says, turning to face Eris, look straight into his eyes, his hypnotic brown eyes.
“What’s going on?”
“I—I think I’m in love with you,” Hallan says, before the rational part of his brain can kick back in and stop him from saying it. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he regrets it. These feelings for Eris are a mistake, a result of trauma, surely, and anyway, there’s no guarantee Eris loves him back.
“That’s your confession?” Eris asks. He almost sounds skeptical. Like he either doesn’t believe Hallan, or else thinks that it isn’t a confession.
“Yes,” Hallan says, trying to sound resolute. He’s good at sounding resolute.
A smile blossoms across Eris’s face. “I’ve been waiting on you to make the next move,” he says.
“You what?”
“Well, I figured you didn’t want to be distracted by anything while you were trying to recover,” Eris says. It’s totally reasonable, but Hallan can’t help but feel a brief spark of annoyance. He was being distracted while trying to recover, distracted by all these thoughts of Eris, these fantasies, these daydreams.
“And now you know that I don’t mind the...distraction,” Hallan replies.
Eris puts an arm around Hallan’s shoulders. Hallan tilts his head down, looks down, below those beautiful brown eyes, towards the lips. He leans in, and Eris’s head tilts up.
Hallan is glad there’s a bed there, even if he doesn’t have the full physical capacity to do everything he wants. It makes it so much easier to kiss Eris. And he really, really likes doing that. And when he’s better, he’ll do more than just kiss him.
But for now, kissing is fine. It’s very satisfying. And it gives him an excuse to touch Eris, to run his fingers through his soft hair, to feel the muscles in his shoulders moving, to feel the cool, smooth skin under his palms.
It’s not at all appropriate. Time Lords are very strict about that sort of thing. But for once, Hallan doesn’t mind. It’s not like there are any other Time Lords around to judge the two of them.