muses_w_remotes | 5.18 Star Trek quote
5.18. “Are you sure it isn't time for a colorful metaphor?”
| Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home
Co-written with strips4u
“I can think of so many adorable names to call you right now,” Flynn offered casually. He wiped Remy’s forehead with a damp cloth as the Cajun continued to be sick into a basin hugged to his chest.
Remy didn’t even indulge Flynn in a Look. “Fuck you,” he returned in his now trademark hoarse whisper before breaking in to another round of heaving.
“I’m loving the porno voice, sweet cheeks. I’m living in the fantasy that you’ve spent the last forty eight hours deep-throating me,” Flynn decided and pushed the damp curls out his Remy’s face. He had to try and make some light of the situation. The fact Remy had damn near shredded the back of his throat tearing out the ventilator horrified Flynn. Not to mention the general state Remy was in now he was awake. Flynn almost wanted him to be unconscious again because then he’d at least sleep through the crap. But they were left with a Remy who seemed to get totally off his face on morphine before the painkiller wore off a short time later. When Maddy had returned to their room somewhere in the school earlier on and told him Remy had woken, but was asleep again, Flynn had to just see for himself that he was okay. Okay was maybe pushing it, but Remy was high enough and numb enough to tell Flynn he had nice balls amidst an uncontrollably giggling fit.
Remy just scrunched his face up and eased back on to the pillow with a cough. Talking too much hurt and although he really wanted to throw a retort back at Flynn, it was taking all his effort just to try and throw up with a bit of dignity.
Flynn took the basin out of Remy’s way. “Are you going to get your gorgeous knickers in a twist about being weak in front of us again? I know you can’t run, but you can do a decent job of getting us thrown out.” He offered Remy a drink of water, holding the straw to his lips. “Just sip or you’ll throw up again. Trust me, I’m an expert in this sort of thing.”
“Can’t,” Remy said. “Too fucking tired. Hurts.” ‘Hurts’ was an understatement. It was just much easier than continuously declaring ‘I’m in goddamn fucking agony, you bastards!’ He took a couple of small sips of water and reached for Flynn’s free hand, closing his eyes. He’d made no attempt to ask about the mission or the shooting. Storm had tried to coax information out of him and get him to face what had happened, but he was having none of it. Hank frequently tended to the painful area in his back right before drugging him up again, but Remy didn’t know the extent of his injuries. It wasn’t so much denial as it hurt too much to talk and his brain didn’t seem to be functioning beyond reminding him how much pain he was in. And tired. He was yet to fully open his eyes, struggling to keep them open even just half way. But beyond all that, he’d been comforted to know Maddy and Flynn were there, though logistically trying to figure out how they were there at Xaviers was just beyond him for the moment.
Flynn wiped Remy’s forehead again and gave his hand a small, comforting squeeze. “It will start to feel better soon. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but it will,” he murmured. “Is there anything you need or want? Or I can go so you don’t have an audience. I know you feel strange about shit like this.” But he also knew that sometimes you just reached a point where you felt too sick and in too much pain to care about things like being watched.
“Stay.” Remy opened his eyes a little to meet Flynn’s. “Please?
Flynn smiled faintly and gave Remy’s fingers a small kiss. “Get some sleep. I’m not going anywhere,” he promised.
Madison James [canmakeufeel] referenced with permission. Not binding on any Storm or Hank muses.
Word Count | 666
| Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home
Co-written with strips4u
“I can think of so many adorable names to call you right now,” Flynn offered casually. He wiped Remy’s forehead with a damp cloth as the Cajun continued to be sick into a basin hugged to his chest.
Remy didn’t even indulge Flynn in a Look. “Fuck you,” he returned in his now trademark hoarse whisper before breaking in to another round of heaving.
“I’m loving the porno voice, sweet cheeks. I’m living in the fantasy that you’ve spent the last forty eight hours deep-throating me,” Flynn decided and pushed the damp curls out his Remy’s face. He had to try and make some light of the situation. The fact Remy had damn near shredded the back of his throat tearing out the ventilator horrified Flynn. Not to mention the general state Remy was in now he was awake. Flynn almost wanted him to be unconscious again because then he’d at least sleep through the crap. But they were left with a Remy who seemed to get totally off his face on morphine before the painkiller wore off a short time later. When Maddy had returned to their room somewhere in the school earlier on and told him Remy had woken, but was asleep again, Flynn had to just see for himself that he was okay. Okay was maybe pushing it, but Remy was high enough and numb enough to tell Flynn he had nice balls amidst an uncontrollably giggling fit.
Remy just scrunched his face up and eased back on to the pillow with a cough. Talking too much hurt and although he really wanted to throw a retort back at Flynn, it was taking all his effort just to try and throw up with a bit of dignity.
Flynn took the basin out of Remy’s way. “Are you going to get your gorgeous knickers in a twist about being weak in front of us again? I know you can’t run, but you can do a decent job of getting us thrown out.” He offered Remy a drink of water, holding the straw to his lips. “Just sip or you’ll throw up again. Trust me, I’m an expert in this sort of thing.”
“Can’t,” Remy said. “Too fucking tired. Hurts.” ‘Hurts’ was an understatement. It was just much easier than continuously declaring ‘I’m in goddamn fucking agony, you bastards!’ He took a couple of small sips of water and reached for Flynn’s free hand, closing his eyes. He’d made no attempt to ask about the mission or the shooting. Storm had tried to coax information out of him and get him to face what had happened, but he was having none of it. Hank frequently tended to the painful area in his back right before drugging him up again, but Remy didn’t know the extent of his injuries. It wasn’t so much denial as it hurt too much to talk and his brain didn’t seem to be functioning beyond reminding him how much pain he was in. And tired. He was yet to fully open his eyes, struggling to keep them open even just half way. But beyond all that, he’d been comforted to know Maddy and Flynn were there, though logistically trying to figure out how they were there at Xaviers was just beyond him for the moment.
Flynn wiped Remy’s forehead again and gave his hand a small, comforting squeeze. “It will start to feel better soon. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but it will,” he murmured. “Is there anything you need or want? Or I can go so you don’t have an audience. I know you feel strange about shit like this.” But he also knew that sometimes you just reached a point where you felt too sick and in too much pain to care about things like being watched.
“Stay.” Remy opened his eyes a little to meet Flynn’s. “Please?
Flynn smiled faintly and gave Remy’s fingers a small kiss. “Get some sleep. I’m not going anywhere,” he promised.
Madison James [canmakeufeel] referenced with permission. Not binding on any Storm or Hank muses.
Word Count | 666