FAKE Ficlet: An Irritating Problem - Follows ‘Unlucky Day’
Title: An Irritating Problem - Follows my fic ‘Unlucky Day’
Fandom: FAKE
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Dee, Ryo.
Rating: G
Setting: After Vol. 7
Summary: Poor Dee is being driven nuts by an itch he can’t scratch.
Word Count: 414
Written For: My own prompt ‘FAKE, Dee/Ryo, scratching an itch,’ at
fic_promptly.
Disclaimer: I don’t own FAKE, or the characters. They belong to the wonderful Sanami Matoh.
Sitting on Ryo’s sofa, his broken leg resting on a footstool Ryo had bought solely for that purpose, Dee was trying to concentrate on the ball game, but it was proving impossible.
Beside him, Ryo was alternating between watching the game and reading the book he had open in his lap, but he looked up as Dee fidgeted restlessly.
“What’s wrong? Are you in pain?” He frowned at his partner, worried. It had been just over two weeks since Dee had been sent crashing down some stairs in a hospital while trying to recapture the man they’d just arrested. Surely Dee’s leg shouldn’t still be hurting him that much now.
“No, it’s not that.” Dee shifted restlessly again.
“Then what is it?” Ryo prompted, growing even more concerned.
“It itches!” Dee practically whimpered in frustration. “I can’t scratch it because of the cast and I swear it’s gonna drive me nuts! How am I gonna survive another four to six weeks of this?”
“It might not take that long to heal,” Ryo replied, getting to his feet and heading for the kitchen. “The doctor said it wasn’t a bad break.”
“Even if it does heal quicker, I’m still facing at least three more weeks of this torment!” Dee whined, squirming vigorously in the vain hope that friction might ease the persistent itch.
“Stop that!” Ryo admonished, returning from the kitchen. “If you’re not careful, you’ll do more damage and have to keep the cast on even longer.”
That made Dee stop, a stricken expression on his face. “That couldn’t happen, could it?”
“I’m not sure, but do you really want to take the chance?”
Dee shook his head, looking even more miserable, if that was possible.
“Here, try this.” Ryo handed him a chopstick he’d fetched from the kitchen.
Grabbing for it, Dee wasted no time in sliding the slender stick inside his cast, wriggling it about until he reached the site of the interminable itch, scratching away at it until the irritation faded away to nothing. He heaved a sigh of relief. “Bliss! Thanks, babe.” He set the chopstick on the end table, where he could reach it easily if he got another bothersome itch, and flopped back on the sofa, finally able to concentrate in the game.
“You’re welcome,” Ryo smiled back, sitting down beside Dee and picking up his book again. “It’s a good thing I always have plenty of chopsticks on hand; they’re surprisingly useful.”
“Greatest invention ever,” Dee agreed.
The End