Injuries always sucked, but Paul was a hockey player: injuries were a part of the game, and you learned how to deal with them. At least he had a clear estimated recovery time, and he'd be able to join his team during the playoffs. They would definitely make the second round this year.
So he wasn't worried about hockey, but it was the small everyday things that were annoying. Dressing himself was the worst part, and the dozens of times a day he almost forgot he couldn't use one hand until it reminded him.
He also found out that it was almost impossible to cleanly break an egg one-handed.
"You're an idiot," James said, shaking his head as he surveyed the mess in the kitchen. "Seriously, what on earth made you think this was a good idea?"
Paul shrugged and leaned back against the wall, watching James get a sponge cloth and start to clean. James had always said Paul made the best eggs of everyone he knew. And Paul liked how domestic it was.
"Don't try to cook while you're injured, you'll burn down the kitchen," James said.
"It must be your turn, then," Paul said. "You'd look good in an apron." He really would. Paul filed the image away for later.
James grimaced. "How many times have you told me I can't cook?"
"Yeah, but now I can't, so you have to," Paul said.
"We could just go have breakfast somewhere else?"
"That doesn't count," Paul said without thinking.
James raised an eyebrow and then shrugged. "Fine. It's your fault if I burn everything."
"I'll show you how," Paul promised.
He wondered if it was too early to ask James to help him get dressed in the mornings.
Injuries always sucked, but Paul was a hockey player: injuries were a part of the game, and you learned how to deal with them. At least he had a clear estimated recovery time, and he'd be able to join his team during the playoffs. They would definitely make the second round this year.
So he wasn't worried about hockey, but it was the small everyday things that were annoying. Dressing himself was the worst part, and the dozens of times a day he almost forgot he couldn't use one hand until it reminded him.
He also found out that it was almost impossible to cleanly break an egg one-handed.
"You're an idiot," James said, shaking his head as he surveyed the mess in the kitchen. "Seriously, what on earth made you think this was a good idea?"
Paul shrugged and leaned back against the wall, watching James get a sponge cloth and start to clean. James had always said Paul made the best eggs of everyone he knew. And Paul liked how domestic it was.
"Don't try to cook while you're injured, you'll burn down the kitchen," James said.
"It must be your turn, then," Paul said. "You'd look good in an apron." He really would. Paul filed the image away for later.
James grimaced. "How many times have you told me I can't cook?"
"Yeah, but now I can't, so you have to," Paul said.
"We could just go have breakfast somewhere else?"
"That doesn't count," Paul said without thinking.
James raised an eyebrow and then shrugged. "Fine. It's your fault if I burn everything."
"I'll show you how," Paul promised.
He wondered if it was too early to ask James to help him get dressed in the mornings.
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment