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The quality of the furniture in waiting rooms was better than it used to be, but John McClane hated being stuck in one anyway. His dislike had nothing to do with the comfort of his ass and everything to do with his impatience. John McClane was not good at waiting, especially in a situation where someone he loved was getting treated for a medical situation.
At least it wasn’t an emergency.
Matt had put off getting his wisdom teeth pulled for as long as possible; definitely longer than was good for him. John knew Matt’s mouth was bothering the kid, but it wasn’t until Matt flinched away from a deep kiss that John understood just how bad it had gotten. John had put his foot down and after a quick trip to the dentist to verify that the wisdom teeth were in fact the cause of Matt’s pain, John had all but dragged Matt to the oral surgeon.
John had no doubt that if he hadn’t been there, Matt would have bolted. Matt was brave in spite of himself, the Fire Sale had proven that, but the kid had an absolute dread of the dentist. That little half-smile that Matt had given John as the nurse came for him hadn’t fooled John for a second. That was over an hour ago and if he had to wait much longer, John was going to pull out his badge and start demanding answers.
“Mr. McClane?”
Finally.
John got up like a shot from his seat and strode over to the woman who’d called his name. She took a step back as he approached, put off either by the speed at which he’d responded or the look on his face. John didn’t particularly care, as long as she got him to Matt quickly.
“Is Matt all right?” John asked, only keeping his tone from making it a demand by the slightest of margins. “It’s been longer than I was told it would be.”
“Matthew is having some difficulty with the anesthesia,” the woman explained. She walked down a hallway.
“Matt,” John growled. Thanks to Thomas Gabriel, Matt had a tendency to get nervous if anyone used his full name. “He hates being called Matthew.”
The woman looked appropriately contrite. “My apologies, I’m sure his care team made sure to ask him what he preferred.”
If they hadn’t, John told himself, they would soon learn the error of their ways.
“What did you mean about having problems with the anesthetic?” John asked instead.
Walking through the back rooms at the oral surgeon’s facility made John nervous. He liked his dentist. Roger was older than John and was a no frills kind of guy. He’d been John’s dentist and his kid’s dentist, when Jack and Lucy lived in New York. Matt didn’t have a dentist of his own, so when it was time to diagnose the cause of Matt’s pain, Roger had been willing to do John a favor and see Matt quickly. Unfortunately, two of Matt’s wisdom teeth were impacted to the point that Roger couldn’t do the extraction and so he’d referred them to an oral surgeon who could do all four at once.
Only Roger’s recommendation was keeping John calm. Unlike Roger’s homey office, the oral surgeon’s was all glossy and white. New age music was piped through the ceiling too, which far from soothing John, made him want to punch something. The whole place felt slick, impersonal and presumptuous.
Realizing that his escort still hadn’t answered his question, John came to a stop and the woman did too. “What did you mean when you said that Matt was having problems with the anesthetic?”
She looked nervous again. “Although most patients just report a gentle sleep, some people have different reactions to the medication.”
“And Matt’s reaction?” John ground out the question between gritted teeth.
“He’s having some nausea, but as for the rest you should see for yourself.” The woman started walking again. “We’re almost there.”
They arrived at a room situated at the end of the hallway. John’s guide nodded and he went in. What he saw stopped John in his tracks.
A trio of people stood on one side of the room. Since they were all dressed in white coats or scrubs, John figured they must be Matt’s ‘care team.’ At first John didn’t see Matt and he started to open his mouth to ask, but then he caught sight of Matt on the floor, scooted as far as he could into the corner, huddled in on himself.
“Oh, Matty,” John said softly.
“I’m so sorry.” Another woman said, this one younger than the woman who’d guided John back into the room. She was dressed in scrubs, so John figured she must be a nurse rather than the oral surgeon. “The cabinet door got away from me and shut more loudly than usual. Mr. Farrell went cra-. . . .” She seemed to rethink her words and made a hasty correction. “He got very agitated and jumped down from the chair. He won’t let us near him.”
“A very few patients get their reality mixed up when they first come out of anesthesia.” This woman was dressed in a white coat, so John figured she must be a surgeon. “Usually it’s very benign and even amusing, but I’ve never seen a reaction like Mr. Farrell’s.”
“Matt’s got PTSD,” John kept his explanation short and his voice gentle. The latter was solely for Matt’s sake. “If that closing cabinet door of yours was loud enough, he might have taken it for a gunshot.”
John tuned out the medical staff and concentrated on his lover. “Hey, Matty, it’s me. You’re safe, kiddo.”
As he spoke, John kept his voice soft and moved slowly towards Matt. When he got close, John could see Matt shaking. The younger man was sitting with his back in the corner and his knees pulled up to his chest. Matt’s arms were wrapped around them and his face hidden, but as he heard John’s voice, he lifted his head a little. By the time John was close enough to touch his knee, Matt was peering at John through his hair.
“Mc’ane?” Matt’s voice sounded weak and slurred. “Th’at ‘ou?”
“Yeah, it’s me, Matty,” John confirmed. “Everything’s okay, kid. I’m here and you’re safe.”
“Hurth,” Matt lifted his head all the way up and John flinched. The kid’s cheeks were already swollen. “T’ink thot ‘n mouff?”
“No, nobody shot you, not in the mouth. Not nowhere.” John reached out and put his hand under Matt’s elbow, gently uncurling the huddled form. “You’re at the dentist, Matty. You had some teeth pulled.”
Matt leaned into John, letting the bigger man get them both to their feet. “N’Gbriel?”
“Nope, that bastard’s still dead, he can’t hurt you anymore,” John reassured him.
Not caring about having an audience, John gave Matt a gentle hug and kissed him on the forehead before encouraging him to sit back on the dental chair. Matt immediately reached for him with an uncoordinated hand and John gladly took it.
“I’m right here, Matty. Not goin’ nowhere,” John reassured the younger man. With his free hand, he brushed the hair out of Matt’s eyes, glad to see Matt relax enough to close his eyes.
Confident that the crisis had been resolved, John turned his attention back to the medical staff. To his faint surprise, the room had cleared, except for the surgeon herself. When she saw him looking at her, she smiled.
“Luckily, the procedure was completed before Mr. Farrell was startled so badly,” the surgeon told John. “When he’s a little steadier on his feet you can take him home.”
John nodded, eager to get Matt out of this place. “How do I take care of him?”
“Leave the gauze as it is for a few hours,” the surgeon instructed. “It’s important to allow the blood clots to form and for them to stay in place. They’re his first line of defense against dry socket.”
He and Holly had long split before his kids had been old enough to need their wisdom teeth dealt with, but John remembered the descriptions of what Jack had gone through with dry socket. He was determined that Matt not experience the same thing.
“I’ll send Lyssa in with the full instructions and some ice packs, but don’t be worried if wants to sleep most of the day,” she continued. “If the bleeding hasn’t stopped in 24 hours, call the office. He can start some simple oral rinses tomorrow, but should stay on soft or liquid food today, especially until the Novocain wears off. Don’t let him use a straw, though. The sucking might disrupt the blood clot.”
John winced. He’d slowly weaned Matt away from energy drinks, but if all the kid could have was liquids, he’d likely demand to have them back. John glanced down at his lover, who appeared to be out cold. Maybe it wouldn’t be a problem for a day or two.
The surgeon took her leave, but was soon replaced by Lyssa, who turned out to be the woman who’d explained to John what had happened.
“How’s Mr. Farrell feeling?” She asked, eying Matt warily. John bristled at that, but then again, he couldn’t really blame her. They probably didn’t have many patients who got caught up in a violent flashback.
“Better,” John answered. “How soon can I get him out of here?”
“It shouldn’t be too much longer.” She handed John a packet of papers and then held up a couple of ice packs. “Would you mind helping me place these? We want to minimize the swelling, but I don’t want to startle him again.”
John nodded and bent down so that his face was close to Matt’s. “Matty, can you wake up a minute for me? Come on, kid, open those eyes.”
Matt slowly blinked his eyes open, but his gaze wasn’t exactly focused. “Wha?”
“This nice lady has some cold stuff that will make your face feel better,” John told him, hoping that he wasn’t lying through his teeth.
“Okay,” Matt muttered. He tried to sit up, but immediately dropped back down. “O’ch.”
“You might not want to move too fast,” John cautioned him. He held out a hand for an ice pack and Lyssa gave it to him. “All right now, it’s gonna be cold.”
John carefully placed the ice pack against the cheek closest to him. Despite his warning, Matt recoiled. “Freethin’!”
“Yeah, that’s what I just told you, it’s gonna be cold, but it’ll keep your face from swelling too much,” John told him. “You don’t want to look like a bobble head, do you?”
Matt settled down with a pout. “No.”
John gestured for Lyssa to give him the second cold pack. “Well, then, this is what you gotta do.”
Shortly after the second pack was in place, Matt started squirming, but his complaint wasn’t about the cold. “Thick.”
Lyssa moved faster than John did. She got a pink kidney-shaped basin underneath Matt’s mouth even as John was helping his lover sit up. Matt retched up a little blood-tinged bile. It wasn’t what came out of his mouth that disturbed John, but the way the effort racked Matt’s whole body.
“N’fun,” Matt gasped as the spasm ended and John helped him lay back down.
“Dr. Jordan gave him a shot for the nausea,” Lyssa told him apologetically. “But it takes a little while to kick in.”
“Lucky you, kid,” John brushed Matt’s now-sweaty hair off of his face.
“We’ll send you home with a prescription for pain medication,” She rattled off the name of a pharmacy. “That’s the pharmacy of record that Mr. Farrell listed. If it’s still correct, we’ll send the prescription directly there so it’ll be waiting for you to pick up.”
“Yeah, that’s the one,” John muttered, glad that Matt had transferred his account to the pharmacy closest to John’s house.
“I’ll check with Dr. Jordan about releasing Mr. Farrell,” Lyssa said. “I’m sure he’d be much more comfortable at home.”
She left the room and, once alone with Matt, John let out a big sigh. Nothing was ever easy with this kid, that was for damn sure.
“Thorry,” Matt looked up at John with bleary eyes.
Shit. He’d thought Matt was out of it again.
“You got nothing to be sorry about,” John assured him. He leaned down and placed a very careful, very chaste kiss on Matt’s lips. “Just close your eyes and rest now, I got you.”
It seemed like forever, but in fact was less than a quarter hour when Lyssa came back and she had a relieved look on her face. “Good news, Mr. Farrell can go home now if you’d like. Or, if you feel he needs more time to recover, you’re both welcome to stay.”
“Oh, hell, no. He’s going home,” John shook his head. Nothing would keep Matt here a moment longer than necessary.
“Do you have any questions?” Lyssa asked as John carefully helped Matt to his feet.
He’d used his waiting time to read up on the aftercare instructions. “Don’t let him sleep completely flat, no sucking, change the gauze in a couple of hours, rinse his mouth, did I miss anything?”
Lyssa shook her head. “No, just remember you can call us as needed and try and stay ahead of the pain using the medication. What we gave him here in the office will last a few hours, but you should have those pills ready to go by the time he needs them.”
By the time she’d finished speaking, they’d reached the door.
“Nothin’ personal, but I hope I won’t be talking to you again,” John told her with a smirk.
Lyssa grinned back at him. “Nothing personal, but I hope you don’t either.”
With Matt moving at shuffle-speed, the walk out to the car was a long one. Lyssa had offered to sit with Matt in the lobby while John pulled the car up, but there was no way that John was leaving the younger man. He couldn’t risk another flashback happening while Matt was in a vulnerable state. The sight of Matt huddled in the corner like that had disturbed John almost as much as seeing his lover in physical pain.
John guided Matt out to his SUV and helped his lover climb inside.
“Here, you feel up to holding these to your face?” John held out the ice packs out, but Matt just looked at him incredulously. “All right, but don’t blame me when you look like a chipmunk later.”
“Juth call me Alvin,” Matt tried to smile, but it was a ghastly sight, what with blood covering his teeth.
By the time they’d gone a block, Matt’s head was lolling against the seat and his eyes were closed. John was just grateful that Lyssa had sent one of those plastic basins home with them and even more grateful that they hadn’t needed to use it yet. Briefly, he considered stopping at the drug store, but he knew from experience that it’d take some time for the prescription to reach the pharmacy, let alone get filled. Matt wasn’t up to going inside anyway and John’d be damned if he’d leave him in the SUV while he was so out of it.
In the end, John drove them directly home and then cursed softly as he looked up at his brownstone. Getting Matt up those stairs was not gonna be fun. He wished he could just sling the young man over his shoulder, but lord knew what that would do to the gaping wounds in his mouth where Matt’s wisdom teeth used to be.
John got out of his SUV and moved around to Matt’s side. He was careful as he opened the door, not wanting to startle Matt. He shouldn’t have worried; the kid was out like a light.
“C’mon, Matty, we’re home,” John coaxed. “Time to wake up.”
“Don’ wanna,” Matt resisted, turning away from John. “Mean.”
“Yeah, mean ol’ me,” John agreed with cheerful exasperation. “I just wanna take you upstairs where I can hold you and coddle you all you want.”
“C’ddle?” Matt turned back and opened one eye to peer at John suspiciously.
Not sure if his lover meant cuddle or coddle, John repeated himself. “Yup, all you want, but first you gotta get out.”
Matt fumbled at the belt buckle and was so ineffective that John moved to help. His attempt got him swatted at.
“I c’n do it,” Matt mumbled.
“Sure you can,” John smirked. Matt’s swatting capability was about as intimidating as a wet tissue. “But how often do I offer to wait on you hand and foot?”
His comment made Matt smile. It was a lopsided and bloody grin, but still made John feel better.
With John in control, Matt was soon unbuckled and out of the SUV. John kept an arm under Matt’s elbow and provided assistance as they climbed the stairs. Once they were inside, John considered the stairs that led up to the bedroom. Even with support Matt was swaying on his feet, though, and John decided they’d gone far enough for the moment.
“Here you go, Matty,” John settled Matt on the oversized recliner and helped him lean it back, although not all the way. He tried to step away, but Matt reached for him.
“Wh’re you goin?” Matt slurred.
John kissed him on the forehead. “I gotta take care of a couple of things, but then I’ll be right back.”
Matt blinked up at him. With his swollen cheeks and dilated pupils, he looked utterly miserable. “P’mth?”
“I promise,” John vowed, leaning down to kiss Matt again. “Gimme a minute.”
Able to feel Matt’s sleepy gaze on him while he worked, John moved quickly. In short order, the plastic basin was sitting on Matt’s chest, a text to Lucy was sent asking her to pick up Matt’s prescriptions, and some old towels were piled on the arm of the recliner. For his last task, John grabbed two bags of peas out of the freezer. Their “sell by” date was May 2009, but he kept them because they made such effective ice packs. John put them on the free arm of the recliner and looked down at Matt. The younger man’s eyes were closed, but John wasn’t sure if he was sleep or if watching John move around had made him nauseous again.
“C’mon, Matty, move over.”
John used a more tender tone than the words themselves would imply. Without opening his eyes, Matt obediently wiggled to the side. John helped him and after a few moments, the two of them were arranged to John’s satisfaction. John was on the bottom, with Matt sprawled over him. Towels and frozen peas were soon in place, despite Matt’s wordless sound of protest.
“You’ll thank me later, Alvin,” John teased.
“Chipmunkth r thxy,” Matt mumbled.
“Yeah, right, sexy. You keep telling yourself that,” John smirked as he kissed the top of Matt’s head. “Try to sleep if you can. I’ll be right here.”
Matt slowly became limper in John’s arms as his breathing deepened, a warm, trusting weight. John didn’t mind. He remembered a time when he’d foolishly told Matt that being hurt was sexy. Well, he’d been wrong. Being hurt wasn’t sexy, at least not when it came to Matt being the injured one.
Neither one of them had gotten good sleep the night before, what with Matt being nervous and in pain and John trying to be reassuring. Now that the surgery was over and Matt was sleeping, John felt the tension he’d been carrying start to leak out too. Soon, he was drifting off, although he didn’t sleep deeply.
An indeterminate amount of time later, John heard his front door open. He opened his eyes, but didn’t otherwise react. He was expecting Lucy and sure enough, it was daughter who walked in. John had one arm around Matt, but used the other one to bring his hands to his lips, warning her to be quiet.
Lucy grinned at her father and put the bag she was carrying down on the coffee table. With him encumbered with not wanting to wake Matt, she was able to pull out her phone and snap a couple of photos.
“You two are just too damn cute,” Lucy whispered.
“Lucy,” John kept his voice quiet, but there was a grumble in it.
It was enough to wake Matt, who lifted his head from John’s chest. “Wha?”
Not too surprisingly for the daughter of John McClane, Lucy was a tough young woman. Even so, she was startled by seeing Matt’s face in the aftermath of oral surgery. “Oh, Matt.”
“Wha?” Matt asked again.
John glanced down at his lover and immediately saw what had upset Lucy. Not only was Matt’s face swollen, but dark bruises were forming around his jawline. “Jesus, kid.”
Matt reached up to touch his face. “Th’ ba?”
“Yeah, it’s that bad,” John pulled Matt’s hand down, not wanting the younger man to aggravate the situation. “Looks like you went a couple of rounds with Mike Tyson.”
“Who?” Matt asked, but despite everything, there was a twinkle in his eye.
Damn kid like to tease John about the difference in their ages. In this case, however, John didn’t mind in the least, since if Matt was feeling well enough to give him shit, it meant he was feeling better.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m old,” John kissed Matt on the forehead and started to extricate himself from the younger man. Matt made a wordless sound of protest. “Gonna get you something to eat, Matty. You need something in your stomach before you take one of the pain pills.”
“This is where I take off,” Lucy stated, slinging her purse across her shoulder. “You two are adorable, but there’s only so much adorable I can take. Dad, cut him some slack and, Matt, make him spoil you rotten. The upside of the bruises is that you can threaten to tell people that he hit you.”
“B’uitheth?” Matt looked at John with big eyes.
“Don’t worry about it, Matt.” John told him, although he himself was worried. Matt’s bruises did make him look like he’d been slapped around.
The couple had been invited to a birthday party for Matt’s grandmother and it was to take place in about a week. It was for her 90th, so the event couldn’t exactly be missed. Matt’s granny didn’t particularly like John and, in spite of her age, she had a pretty good arm. She’d beat him with her cane if she thought he’d done something to her precious grandson.
“Hang in there, Matt, it’ll get better,” Lucy assured Matt as she walked towards the door. “Dad is actually a really good nursemaid.”
“Thanks,” John smirked as his daughter waved at him jauntily. As the door closed behind Lucy, he turned his attention back to Matt. “Don’t move, I’m coming back with soup.”
Matt settled back into the recliner. “K.”
John filled a large coffee mug with water and put it in the microwave to heat. While that was cooking, he looked through his cupboards until he found the dried soup packets. When the water was hot, but not boiling, he took it out and dumped the soup mix in. As he stirred, the scent of it wafted up and reminded him of nights, mostly pre-Matt, where he’d been too tired to cook. The instant soup wasn’t fancy, but Matt wasn’t in any shape for fancy anyway.
Walking carefully to not spill, John went back to the living room. Matt had his eyes closed, but opened them when John approached. “No, n’gonna.”
“Yes, you’re gonna,” John said firmly. He sat on the ottoman and looked at Matt levelly. “You remember when you were shot?”
Matt nodded silently.
“Remember what happened when you slept too long and didn’t keep up with your pain meds?” John reminded Matt. They hadn’t been lovers then, but Matt had come to live with John while they’d both recuperated. Even back then, John hadn’t liked seeing Matt in agony.
Matt flinched and nodded again, although his expression remained stubborn.
“You had one hole in your knee then,” John was ruthless with his logic. “And you got four holes in your mouth now. You really want the pain to catch up to you?”
“I’ll t’the pillth,” Matt said mulishly. “N’thoup.”
“Soup first, then pills,” John was firm. “You need something in your stomach or you might yack them up. If that happens, we won’t know how much of the meds your stomach absorbed, so you wouldn’t get any more for four more hours.” He smirked. “Four long, pain-filled hours.”
Matt huffed, but held out his hand for the mug. “Ba’trd.”
John didn’t take the comment personally. He enjoyed Matt’s sarcasm and the way he didn’t back down. It’d been a little eerie, how quiet the kid had been since the oral surgery. John was looking forward to having his snarky lover back in the full swing of things.
“I just don’t like seeing you hurting, Matty,” John dropped the smirk and let his true feelings shine through.
“N’fair,” Matt complained, even as he blushed. “Bein’ gooey.”
“Only for you,” John admitted. “Now drink your soup.”
Matt took a sip and swallowed. Since his mouth was still partially numb, some dribbled down his chin, but John grabbed one of the towels from earlier and wiped it off.
“Th’taw?” Matt asked.
“Nope, no sucking, so no straw.” John explained. “Not for a couple of days.”
“N’thuck?” Matt’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “T’thckth! Why?”
“You really don’t want to know why,” John stated. He wasn’t sure how Matt would handle the idea of blood clots in his mouth. “Trust me.”
“B’John not gonna b’happy,” Matt stated, that familiar twinkle back in his eyes.
If John’d had hair, he might have pulled on it in frustration. “Big John is staying in my pants for the duration, Matty. You’re in no shape for that kind of screwing around, so quit screwing around and drink your soup.”
“Y’thir”
Matt obediently sipped at the soup, but his expression showed that he wasn’t enjoying it much. The kid got about halfway done when his face took on a green tinge. When he thrust the mug back at John, this time the older man didn’t protest.
“All right, that’ll have to do. I’ll get some water and you can take your pills.” John got up, but Matt caught his hand before he could step away.
“T’ankth,” Matt said sheepishly. “Thrry ‘bout dith.”
“You’re a pain in the ass all right,” John smirked so that Matt knew he wasn’t serious. “But you’re my pain in the ass. I think I’ll keep you.”
He bent to lightly brush his lips across Matt’s, not putting any pressure into the kiss so that he didn’t cause the younger man any pain. He wasted no time getting to the kitchen and dumping the soup before filling up a glass with water and bringing it back. He was impressed to see that Matt was sitting up in the chair, but less impressed that the young man was patting around his face.
“Stop that,” John pulled the nearest hand away and put a glass of water in it. He reached for the bag that Lucy had left and dug the prescription bottle out. “Let’s see what the nice dentist set up for you. Oooh, Percocet. The good stuff.”
Matt frowned. “Mketh me theepy.”
“Theepy, huh?” John couldn’t help but chuckle evilly. Matt flipped him the bird in response, which made John laugh even harder. “Take your pills like a good boy, Matty, and maybe I’ll tuck you into bed.”
“Wif me?” Matt said hopefully.
There was no way that big, tough John McClane could resist that expression and so he didn’t even try.
“Yeah,” he responded as he handed Matt two pills. “Just sleeping, though. No funny stuff.”
“K,” Matt gave in easily. He put the pills in his mouth, wincing as he did. He reached for the glass and nearly drained it. As he handed it back to John, though, it was clear that Matt hadn’t enjoyed it. “Tathe f’nky”
No doubt that it did, what with all the medicine that had been used during the extraction, not to mention the blood. Actually, John tried not to think about the blood. Instead, he held out a hand to help Matt up from the chair.
“You head upstairs and I’ll bring you more water.” John offered. Matt swore that the water from the kitchen tasted better than what came from the bathroom faucet.
“Th’nkth,” Matt shuffled towards the staircase.
John watched him take the first few steps, to make sure Matt was steady on his feet. After that, he grabbed the now not-so-frozen packages of peas and went back to the kitchen. He filled the glass up and put the veggies back in the freezer. As John moved through the living room, he also grabbed the pill bottle and stuffed it in his pocket before heading up to join Matt.
Matt was in the bathroom and it was obvious what he was doing, so John took a few moments to put the supplies down before quickly changing into sweats. After he was more comfortable, he grabbed some for Matt and joined him in the bathroom. Matt was standing in front of the mirror and leaning against the counter, a look of shock on his face.
“Imma ch’pmnk.”'
“Pretty much, yeah,” John smirked. “But it’s only temporary. Besides, you make a cute rodent. I think I will call you Alvin.”
The glare that Matt shot him would have killed a lesser man. The glare didn’t last long, though, and was soon replaced by an evil smile.
“What?” John asked, suspicious.
“Grnny,” Matt explained, looking smug despite the swollen cheeks and bruised jaw.
Right. Matt’s grandmother and her cane of misdirected retribution.
“Truce,” John suggested with a smirk. “I’ll lay off with the chipmunk comments if you protect me from Granny Farrell.”
Matt thought about it for a moment before nodding. The motion made him wince and he sighed expressively.
“Let’s get you cleaned up so you can sleep some of this off,” John suggested.
Although hurting, Matt wasn’t so feeble that he couldn’t change his own clothes. While his lover did that, John rummaged around in the medicine cabinet for more gauze. It was just about time for it to be changed and John knew that doing so would probably help the bad taste in Matt’s mouth.
By the time Matt was finished getting into his sweats, John had made rolls of gauze and he held one up when Matt looked at him. Making an expression of distaste, Matt blew the hair out of his eyes. John ignored him and put the wastebasket on the counter so that Matt wouldn’t have to bend down very much.
“You want some water to loosen ‘em up?” John asked.
Matt just shook his head and John just sighed, telling himself that it was temporary. Usually his lover had a million and one things to say about anything and everything.
Moving carefully, Matt reached into his mouth and pulled out a blood-soaked wad of something. Matt’s face was screwed up in disgust at the sight of it, but John was the one having difficulty. As Matt dropped the ghastly gauze into the wastebasket, it made a sickening plop, but John couldn’t help but stare, mesmerized by the ruby red color. His vision started graying out around the edges and he had to grab onto the counter for support.
“M’cane?” Matt asked, touching John on the arm. “Y‘kay?”
John shook his head. “I’m fine, Matty.”
Matt wasn’t buying it. “You thure? B’ood doethn’t b’ther you.”
“Yeah, but it’s your blood,” John laughed softly. “Just don’t tell Lucy or any of the guys at the precinct or I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Wuth.” Matt’s eyes were smiling, even if his mouth wasn’t quite up to the motion yet.
“All right, all right, I’m a wuss,” John agreed. “I’ll remember that, though, the next time you want a spider killed or something.”
Matt just shook his head and motioned for John to turn around. Not really eager to see Matt change out the rest of his bloody gauze, John was happy to oblige. It was only after he heard another three plops that he dared to turn around again. Matt was just fitting the last piece of the new stuff in.
“Better?” John asked.
“Yeah,” Matt agreed. His eyes were droopy, so John knew that the Percocet must have kicked in.
“C’mon, Matty, I know a mattress that’s callin’ your name,” John took Matt by the hand to lead him from the bathroom. Matt followed along quietly.
When they got to the bedroom, John made short work of pulling the coverings down and piling up the pillows. He then got in and situated himself with his back against the headboard. Matt watched owlishly, only moving when John held out his hand towards him.
Matt clambered slowly onto the bed and made as if to take his usual position curled up against John’s side.
“No, Matty, that’s not gonna work,” John told him. Matt made a soft whining sound, but was plaint as John gently maneuvered him until Matt was laying between John’s legs, his back to John’s front. “This way you’re not putting any pressure on your sore face.”
“Mmmm,” Matt wiggled until he was settled to his satisfaction, not seeming to notice – or care – what part of John’s anatomy he was wiggling against.
Brat.
“Comfy?” John asked. He’d meant that to come out snarky, but instead his tone was gentle.
Matt didn’t answer verbally, instead just patted John’s leg.
“Get some sleep, Matty.” John kissed the top of Matt’s head. “It’s gonna get better.”
“Promith?” Matt asked. He tried to yawn, but opening his mouth made him wince.
“Promise.”
John ran his hand through Matt’s hair, knowing that the action soothed the younger man. The combination of that and the pain pills did Matt in; soon he was a sleeping, boneless warmth in John’s arms.
John sighed with a guilt-inducing sort of contentment. He didn’t like seeing Matty hurting and would be happy when the younger man was back to his usually sarcastic attitude. John had to admit, though, that a clingy and pliant Matt had its appeal too.
Closing his eyes, John let himself drift off to sleep.