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“Bloody hell!” Fitz calls out. He grabs a test tube and throws it against the wall. It shatters and glass shards flow around.
A lab worker ducks and hurries out.
Hunter stays where he is, leaning against a table, his arms crossed. He watches as Fitz pulls at his hair and growls. He stares down at the glass and scrunches his nose, turning around and raising a fist as if he wants to slam it on the table, but instead, he flaps it in the air near his chest, his breaths frantic.
„Relax,“ Hunter says calmly.
Fitz jumps and looks at him, his eyes wide and desperate. He clenches his hand into a fist and puts it on his back as if he wants to hide it. His jaw clenches.
Hunter goes to him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Relax, Fitz. Anger solves nothing.”
Fitz scoffs. But he exhales heavily, some of the tension leaving his body. “Bloody use, uh, less, useless,” he murmurs, looking away.
Hunter shakes his head. “No, you aren’t. You’re exhausted and that’s why you can’t find anything in that big brain of yours. You need a break. You need to relax.”
“No time! Team … I have to … I …” Fitz stops, huffing in frustration.
But Hunter knows what he wants to say. He has to prove he’s still valuable. That he can still help. It hurts him that Fitz thinks like this. That he always thinks his recovery isn’t going fast enough. Or that he fears he won’t recover at all. That he’s broken beyond repair.
But it’s okay. Hunter is going to show Fitz how precious and wonderful he is. He’s going to show him until he believes it himself. Hunter doesn’t know the Fitz from before the accident. And he doesn’t want to know him. He knows this Fitz and he’s perfect. He deserves all the love in the world.
There are so many things Hunter loves about Fitz. He could write a song about it.
He loves how Fitz’s eyes light up when he sees the solution for a problem. He loves how Fitz’s eyes get dazed when Hunter kisses the right spot on his neck. He loves the little smile that appears on Fitz’s face, when Hunter calls him love. Or beautiful. Or amazing. The smile is still a bit disbelieving sometimes. But by now, it’s mostly a happy smile. Hunter loves the breathy noises Fitz make when they kiss. He loves the full body shudder Fitz gives, when Hunter runs his hands along his sides. Hunter could go on with this mental list forever.
But right now, he has to take care Fitz won’t work himself towards a collapse. He knows just the right thing to do.
He abruptly leans in to nibble at Fitz’s earlobe and hears a quiet gasp. “I’m going to help you to relax,” he says and smiles. “Let me.” So far, he has always been very effective with this method.
“Hunter …” Fitz murmurs. It sounds like weak protest. But Fitz doesn’t resist when Hunter gently pushes him back against a wall, kissing him and grinding against him. He moans and his eyes flutter close. He goes boneless, every hint of tenseness vanishing. “You … you can’t do that, uh, here,” he whispers against Hunter’s lips after a while.
Sadly, Hunter has to agree. Way too many people are around. “My bunk or yours?” He asks, taking Fitz’s hand and squeezing it.
Fitz looks conflicted for a short moment. His eyes flicker to his papers on the table. But when Hunter runs a fingertip along his neck, Fitz shivers blissfully and sighs. “Yours.”
Hunter grins and pulls Fitz out of the lab.