Work Text:
Knock knock?
Geordi jerks upright from his half-awake state on the couch.
Ow.
Ow.
Head hurts.
Their voice.
Mind voice. Asking. Ow. Fuck.
“Are you home?” he calls, voice cracking.
There’s no immediate answer, which in hindsight he should have expected. They usually ask out loud if they’re close enough to talk, and no answer is an agreed-upon “no”. His thoughts feel distant, as if seen through a foggy pane of glass, and though that’s admittedly not completely unusual for him, the pain his head feels wrapped in isn’t something he wants to visit on his partner.
It’s another minute before he hears the sound of the front door, a subdued click that still sends a little shock through his temples and down the back of his neck.
Must have slept, if they’re already home from work.
The curtains are drawn, and the only light in the room is a low lamp. He’d set it that way when he’d taken his Advil hours ago. A half-empty glass of water sits on the side table, evidence of his attempts to be a functional person. His Switch is off to the side, screen dark.
Should probably put it in the dock, to save the battery. I keep forgetting that.
Moving sounds awful.
Everything sounds awful.
Footsteps. Coming closer.
“Geordi?”
Their voice. Love their voice.
Soft—Gentle—Quiet—
Still too loud. Hurts.
“Welcome home, cutie,” he manages, embarrassingly strained. It thuds through his skull.
They round the corner into the living room. Their work bag is over their shoulder, and they look tired and a little rumpled. “Thanks, love, I—”
What’s wrong? They stopped talking.
Frowning. They’re sad. No. Why?
“Are you okay?” they ask, dumping their bag unceremoniously on the ground and immediately crossing the room to him.
Geordi wants to brush it off. He gets as far as opening his mouth before realizing that it’s completely pointless. He’s wrapped in a blanket ball on the couch in a dim room, and the expression of tense worry on his partner’s face confirms what he already thought.
Looks bad.
Right to be worried. Ow.
Pills didn’t work. Migraine?
Looking up “headaches” on WebMD wasn’t actually useful. Screen brightness makes it worse.
Fuck, ow, stop thinking about all the diseases you don’t have. Stop thinking. Talk.
“Head hurts,” he admits out loud.
Their expression doesn’t lighten, but it does change, their jaw going set and focused and stubborn.
God, they're cute. So serious.
Want to kiss them.
Kiss just under their jaw where it’s tense.
Moving my head is awful. I’d do it for them, though.
“Is sound bothering you?” they ask, in a tiny thread of their usual voice.
He nods and immediately regrets it. The pain is localized on both sides of his head, right at his temples, and it burns when he moves.
Knock knock? They look directly at him when they ask this time, brow furrowed and big shining eyes clear and without guile.
Geordi loves their voice in his head. It sounds a little like their speaking voice, the character and cadence the same, but without actual auditory input it always feels more like a sensation than like out-loud words. And that sensation is always good, always tender, gentle with him at every moment. Like a warm mug held between the hands.
So it’s with some reluctance that he grits out, “I don’t think you’d want to be in there right now, cutie. My head’s all messed up. I don’t want you hurting too.”
They lean a little closer. They’re usually about the same height, but with them on the floor in front of the couch they’re looking up at him through their eyelashes.
Hurts to keep my eyes open. Worth it to see them.
“That’s not how it works, love,” they tell him ever so quietly. “It won’t hurt me. Not you either.”
Then how does it work?
Not connected to my literal brain?
Aren’t headaches from the brain?
Do my thoughts like, fly out of my head to some weird middle space?
Are you not actually in my head?
Don’t want to hurt you.
“You’re sure?” he asks. At the sound of his voice, they frown and shove his abandoned glass of water in his face. “Yeah, yeah, okay, got it,” he says, and takes a drink even though it’s hours old and tastes awful, because he loves them. “Really though,” Geordi says again, careful. “It won’t hurt?”
They just shake their head, staring up at him with those big piercing eyes. “Please?” they ask in a whisper, and he can’t deny them when he wants to feel them so much. He nods.
Thank you. I love you. Can I sit with you?
As promised, it doesn’t hurt, not more than his own thoughts. Their voice in his mind just feels gentle, like always, like a hand brushing through his hair or a warm bath.
Always yes. Not even a question. Love you too.
At that, their mouth curves into a grin and they climb up onto the couch next to him, settling into his blanket nest in an ungainly pile of limbs.
Did you take anything for it yet?
Yeah. Hours ago, max dose.
Oh, baby. They reach a hand forward, hovering just over his temple. Can I? I want to check something.
Sure.
Yes. Absolutely. Love your hands.
Their face scrunches up adorably, grin going all squished, and they reach forward, placing their hand at his right temple. Their fingers feel cold from the early spring air outside, dry and so so gentle, and it’s immediately a relief. He leans into their touch like a cat, certain his mind is probably just an endless loop of aaahhhhh.
Sure enough, they give him an impossibly fond look. Yeah, that’s a migraine, they confirm. I can do something about that, if you’ll let me.
With magic?
Yes, with magic.
God, that’s so cool. Hell yeah.
They snort outright, shifting around in their blanket pile to face him head on, raising their other hand to his left temple. It’s cool and nice and he loves them. He lets his gaze linger on their face. They still look tired, dark circles under their eyes, and their hair is ruffled from the wind, half-out of its work style.
Worried for me—What about you—Working too hard?
Hush. It’s not anything. I don’t want you to be in pain, Geordi.
If you’re sure.
Don’t strain yourself, not for me.
Don’t want to cause a problem.
Don’t want to—
They lean forward, his face between their hands, and press a soft kiss to his forehead. At the touch of their lips, a cool tingling pressure spreads across his entire head, a little like pins and needles but gentling, numbing. It feels incredible. He’s fairly certain he makes an obscene noise. His brain is suddenly blessedly quiet of anything that isn’t their touch.
…
…
…
You alive in there?
“Mm, no,” Geordi says aloud, reveling in how it doesn’t hurt to talk. “Killed me. I’m dead.” Kiss me back to life?
They laugh, a little tired giggle, and tilt their head to kiss him properly, fingers curling into his hair.
You never realize how wonderful it is to be at neutral in your body until everything hurts. God, so nice.
Kisses nice too.
He wiggles around in the blanket pile enough to get an arm around their waist, and they move as soon as he applies the slightest pressure, collapsing into him without a moment of hesitation.
“Oof. You okay, cutie?” Tired? Hurt? Not for me, I told you not to.
I’m fine. Long day. I’ve always been a decent healer, that wasn’t too much. I’m glad you’re feeling better.
Healing magic? You used it before, when I dropped that knife.
Fuck, I’m so bad at cooking.
Felt nice when you healed me, liked it, you always feel nice. That time with the knife it was just nice to not be bleeding, though.
How does it work on headaches? Can you fix other stuff?
Nuzzling into the side of his neck, they hum thoughtfully, a little considering sound. Dulling pain is a general ability. It’s not specific to headaches. I let the meds you already took do a fair bit of the work, too, I just helped the worst of it.
“Could you feel where the worst of it was? From being in my head?”
Not exactly. Your thoughts are… signals that get sent out, impulse messages that exist for tiny fractions of a second at a time. So is nearly every other sensation, like pain. Telepathy interacts with specific ones and kind of translates them. Feeling for the pain was from my healing training.
What else could it do? “You told me some about that. You had to take it at work?” Amazing. Instant painkiller.
Yeah, they make you do basic first aid at DUMP, but I’m fully certified, so I’ve actually taken more in-depth courses. They let out a jaw-cracking yawn, laughing a little after. I’m happy to tell you about it, but I’m also exhausted. Remind me, and I swear I’ll show you my old papers. Pinky promise. Right now… can I cuddle my boyfriend? You made a blanket pile and I want to use it.
Fair argument. Won’t argue. Don’t really want to.
They smile against his skin and squeeze him a little closer. Shifting them both so the back of the couch is actually supporting him, Geordi arranges it so they’re draped across his lap, nose still pressed into his neck.
Love how you feel against me.
So cute, all sleepy.
“Thank you,” he says. “For doing that.”
I love you. I’ll take care of you as long as you’ll let me. They pause for a moment, then add, Will you play Breath of the Wild so I can watch you fail the Master Trials again?
Geordi shoots them a betrayed look, although they can’t see it where they’re shaking with laughter against him. “You fixed my pain only to then immediately revel in it. I see how it is.” Even as he speaks, he’s grabbing his abandoned Switch.
What’s a little torment between partners? they ask, their mental voice echoing with the memory of his own and a content glee.
“I love you too,” he murmurs, and settles in.