just_muse_me | 6.3.5.
6.3.5. He just couldn’t get comfortable
Co-written with strips4u
Remy’s legs were hurting from lack of use and he just couldn’t get comfortable. He tried to shift to get a more suitable position, but it seemed like an impossible feat. Flynn was lying asleep on the bed beside him, too, so he didn’t want to fall into a round of restless wriggling and wake his lover. Flynn had come home from work the previous night with a headache and stomach ache he wasn’t able to shake, so he told Remy he was just going to nap beside him but made Remy promise he’d wake him if he needed anything, with a sharp emphasis on the ‘anything’. And at the time, Remy had intentions of doing so but Flynn looked so peaceful and needed to rest if he wasn’t feeling well. Maddy was still about two hours away from coming home, so on the face of it, Remy was stuck lying there yet again and - fuck it - he desperately wanted a smoke. Fresh air and a smoke. Hypocritical, yet who really gave a fuck?
He pressed his lips together and screwed his nose up as he turned to look at Flynn sleeping next to him. He brushed his fingers against Flynn’s bare shoulder, but the other man didn’t stir at all. Just the thought of waking Flynn to take him for a smoke burned a trail of guilt in Remy’s gut. There was no way he was going to do it. It had been fucking weeks since the shooting. Chase was coming to do whatever it was that doctors did to help him get the fuck out of the bed on the weekend. What was a few days earlier going to matter?
It took ages, but Remy managed to get himself into a sitting position on the side of the bed. Even just that had him breathless and sweating in exertion. It had been a long time since he was mobile. He swallowed with another deep breath and stared hardly down at his feet. How far was the balcony again? It couldn’t be that far. Just up the hall and through the living room. Why did that practically sound like he was about to face a hike across the Great Wall of China? It didn’t matter. He’d faced harder things than this in his life. This was just fucking walking, and damnit, he was going to do it.
Unsurprisingly, it all went down hill very rapidly. He managed to get into a standing position, but his muscles burned and ached so intensely that he soon had tears streaming down his cheeks. But he gritted his teeth through it, trying even more to ignore the pain pulsing in his back. He was too weak, though. Trying to walk without assistance was impossible, though he made a good attempt of it. He lost his balance and tried to grab for the wheelchair to stop himself falling, but the breaks weren’t on. It went skidding sharply backwards with his added weight and he fell heavily to the ground with a sharp thump on the wooden floor.
He only realised he must’ve knocked himself out when he opened his eyes to Flynn standing over him, desperately calling his name. “Oh, thank god!” Flynn cried, crouching closer to Remy to get a look at his face. “What the hell were you thinking?! If you fell out of bed, you must’ve flown in your sleep because you’re too far away for that. God, please tell me you didn’t try to walk! Fuck, now you’re bleeding! What the hell were you thinking?!” he panicked, jumping up. “I need to get the first aid kit! Jesus in all hell! Goddamnit, Remy!”
Remy just groaned and pressed his cheek against the polished floor beneath him. He figured he deserved to be left there, watching Flynn fly out of the room in a panic and come back a few moments later with the large first aid kit in hand. He’d tried to walk, failed, hurt himself, woke Flynn and still wanted a fucking smoke. Could things suck any more at the moment? “I just wanted a smoke,” he mumbled.
“Yeah, well, I wanted a Ferrari too, but do you see me acting like a wanker?” Flynn snapped. He dumped the kit onto the bed and slowly managed to get Remy back into bed, which was a lengthy and awkward process. Remy was in tears again by the time he was back to square one and now making a concerted effort to avoid Flynn’s gaze.
“Don’t tell Maddy?” Remy asked in a small voice.
Flynn opened the kit up and took some things out to deal with the cut on Remy’s cheek. “Sorry, Superman, but you have a dirty great bruise on your cheek. She’s going to take one look at you and know something is wrong. I’m telling her so you won’t do it again.”
“I won’t do it again,” Remy mumbled. This sucked. This more than sucked. And worse? He still didn’t have a smoke in his hand!
“I know you won’t,” Flynn said, clearly angry with Remy for the first time, in, well, the whole time they’d been together. “Hold still. This will hurt,” he warned and started to clean the cut. An angry and frustrated silence fell between them neither saying anything more on the subject for the moment.
Madison James [canmakeufeel] & Robert Chase [chasemd] referenced with permission
Muse | Remy "Gambit" LeBeau
Fandom | X-Men
Word Count | 889
Co-written with strips4u
Remy’s legs were hurting from lack of use and he just couldn’t get comfortable. He tried to shift to get a more suitable position, but it seemed like an impossible feat. Flynn was lying asleep on the bed beside him, too, so he didn’t want to fall into a round of restless wriggling and wake his lover. Flynn had come home from work the previous night with a headache and stomach ache he wasn’t able to shake, so he told Remy he was just going to nap beside him but made Remy promise he’d wake him if he needed anything, with a sharp emphasis on the ‘anything’. And at the time, Remy had intentions of doing so but Flynn looked so peaceful and needed to rest if he wasn’t feeling well. Maddy was still about two hours away from coming home, so on the face of it, Remy was stuck lying there yet again and - fuck it - he desperately wanted a smoke. Fresh air and a smoke. Hypocritical, yet who really gave a fuck?
He pressed his lips together and screwed his nose up as he turned to look at Flynn sleeping next to him. He brushed his fingers against Flynn’s bare shoulder, but the other man didn’t stir at all. Just the thought of waking Flynn to take him for a smoke burned a trail of guilt in Remy’s gut. There was no way he was going to do it. It had been fucking weeks since the shooting. Chase was coming to do whatever it was that doctors did to help him get the fuck out of the bed on the weekend. What was a few days earlier going to matter?
It took ages, but Remy managed to get himself into a sitting position on the side of the bed. Even just that had him breathless and sweating in exertion. It had been a long time since he was mobile. He swallowed with another deep breath and stared hardly down at his feet. How far was the balcony again? It couldn’t be that far. Just up the hall and through the living room. Why did that practically sound like he was about to face a hike across the Great Wall of China? It didn’t matter. He’d faced harder things than this in his life. This was just fucking walking, and damnit, he was going to do it.
Unsurprisingly, it all went down hill very rapidly. He managed to get into a standing position, but his muscles burned and ached so intensely that he soon had tears streaming down his cheeks. But he gritted his teeth through it, trying even more to ignore the pain pulsing in his back. He was too weak, though. Trying to walk without assistance was impossible, though he made a good attempt of it. He lost his balance and tried to grab for the wheelchair to stop himself falling, but the breaks weren’t on. It went skidding sharply backwards with his added weight and he fell heavily to the ground with a sharp thump on the wooden floor.
He only realised he must’ve knocked himself out when he opened his eyes to Flynn standing over him, desperately calling his name. “Oh, thank god!” Flynn cried, crouching closer to Remy to get a look at his face. “What the hell were you thinking?! If you fell out of bed, you must’ve flown in your sleep because you’re too far away for that. God, please tell me you didn’t try to walk! Fuck, now you’re bleeding! What the hell were you thinking?!” he panicked, jumping up. “I need to get the first aid kit! Jesus in all hell! Goddamnit, Remy!”
Remy just groaned and pressed his cheek against the polished floor beneath him. He figured he deserved to be left there, watching Flynn fly out of the room in a panic and come back a few moments later with the large first aid kit in hand. He’d tried to walk, failed, hurt himself, woke Flynn and still wanted a fucking smoke. Could things suck any more at the moment? “I just wanted a smoke,” he mumbled.
“Yeah, well, I wanted a Ferrari too, but do you see me acting like a wanker?” Flynn snapped. He dumped the kit onto the bed and slowly managed to get Remy back into bed, which was a lengthy and awkward process. Remy was in tears again by the time he was back to square one and now making a concerted effort to avoid Flynn’s gaze.
“Don’t tell Maddy?” Remy asked in a small voice.
Flynn opened the kit up and took some things out to deal with the cut on Remy’s cheek. “Sorry, Superman, but you have a dirty great bruise on your cheek. She’s going to take one look at you and know something is wrong. I’m telling her so you won’t do it again.”
“I won’t do it again,” Remy mumbled. This sucked. This more than sucked. And worse? He still didn’t have a smoke in his hand!
“I know you won’t,” Flynn said, clearly angry with Remy for the first time, in, well, the whole time they’d been together. “Hold still. This will hurt,” he warned and started to clean the cut. An angry and frustrated silence fell between them neither saying anything more on the subject for the moment.
Madison James [canmakeufeel] & Robert Chase [chasemd] referenced with permission
Muse | Remy "Gambit" LeBeau
Fandom | X-Men
Word Count | 889