RP LOG with sexyinscrubs | Not quite "talking"
[Follows THIS]
The brief talk with Lachlan more than had Aiden in brooding contemplation. The Scot had a tendency to do that to people. He left you with a bunch of mental tools that set your brain into overdrive before you could stop it. Aiden was standing in the kitchen of his trendy Upper East Side apartment, absentmindedly stirring a cup of coffee probably way more than it needed as he stared out the kitchen windows across the rooftops of the neighbouring apartments. The rest of the apartment was quiet as he waited for Pat to come back from the gym. Cameron was staying there with them for a few days, but had yet to surface after the big New Year party the night before which had also functioned as Aiden's birthday bash. Everything seemed brilliant the night before, and he had an awesome time. It was only this morning that things got tense again. Another failed attempt in the bedroom had them nearly in an argument, probably only prevent by Pat's escaped to the gym before voices and tempers could flare any further.
Aiden was so lost in his thoughts that he jumped when he heard the apartment door open, but he abandoned the untouched coffee to head through into the main part of the apartment. He wanted to slap himself, but he actually had to fight not to be immediately turned on at the sight of Pat hot and sweaty in his gym clothes. The apartment building was one of those that came with its own gym and indoor pool, so there was no rugging up and heading out into the New York winter morning. Pat's light hair was damp and swept back off his face, the tight white t-shirt and grey trackpants just enough to drive Aiden wild. He really couldn't help it. Just because Pat was having trouble didn't mean Aiden didn't still want him. "Pat," he said, catching Pat's hand with his and bringing it up to his lips to kiss Pat's fingers.
Pat shot Aiden a brief hint of a smile and then twisted his hand out of his grip. "I'm all sweaty and gross, darling. I need to take a shower." He shifted away to put his gym bag on the floor. "Is Cameron up yet?" he asked.
"No," Aiden replied, trying not to get immediately annoyed or frustrated at Pat's seeming ease to pull away from him. "I'll take a shower with you. I haven't had one yet," he persisted.
"I just want to get in and out, Aiden. You can get one after me," Pat returned, a less approachable edge etching his tone. He shot Aiden a brief, unreadable look and started to head up the hall, hooking his finger into the neck of his shirt to tug it away from his body.
Aiden threw up his hands. "Goddamnit, Pat!" he cried, shaking his head as he started to pace a little. "I'm not trying to fucking rape you! I just want to spent time with you! You're doing everything in your power to not be alone in my presence lately! Do you really honestly think that all I want is fucking sex? That every time we're in a room on our own, I'm going to try and jump you?! And if not? Then I'm suddenly really worried about what the problem might be because I was under the delusion our marriage was doing well! Until it just... wasn't. Until you just stopped wanting to be near me. Even in bed... fuck, if there was anymore distance between us, we would be in fucking different states! Why did you marry me, Pat? Why? If you're not going to let me near you when things are tough, why the hell did you marry me?!" Okay, so it probably wasn't the sort of 'talking' Lachlan had in mind, but after being left to brood, Aiden had a swirl of thoughts in his head and just couldn't keep his calm. He was frustrated and he was upset. He didn't even have Harri to offload to because she had her hands full with a newborn, so he was left to stew, and this was the result.
Pat did have a sense that he was just slapped in the face, but Aiden hadn't - and never would - raise his hand to his husband. He had his back to Aiden when the explosion came and it was only when the final question was fired at him that Pat could manage to turn and look at Aiden, even if it was a slow action. He was hurt, no doubt about it, but Aiden was angry. They were both hurt, and until this moment, Pat didn't actually realise how much. His gut churned with a mix of guilt and confusion. He hadn't been pushing Aiden away that much, had he? "For your money? Is that what you want me to say?" he said with an unusual calmness, even if his voice was hoarse, eyes locked on Aiden's face. "Because I wanted a nurse? Because you wouldn't let me say no? What do you really want me to say, Aiden?"
"I want you to stop punishing me for choosing to be with you!" Aiden exploded. "I want you to stop fucking punishing me for doing everything you just said and still wanting to be with you for the rest of my life! I hate that you keep making me feel like I'm doing something wrong for wanting to be close to you when you're well and when you're sick! I hate that you make me feel like even lying naked next to you is a fucking crime and I'm causing some harm to you in some way! I hate that you keep making me second guess my ability to take care of you when you won't let me! I hate that when this happens to me, that you seem to lose all urge to be near me intimately! But you know what I hate the most? I hate that you can't even step close to me in an argument, let alone in any other capacity! You make me feel like a piece of shit sometimes, Pat! I'd rather have an ill husband who can lean on me and let me take care of him than one that can barely even look me in the eye some mornings," he ended, the words coming out in a rush of breath as he choked up and tears threatened.
Pat just breached the gap between them and wrapped his arms around Aiden in a sudden embrace. He just held him for a long few moments, hearing Aiden's heavy breathing against his ear and feeling how fast his heart was beating from the upset yelling. He brushed his hand over Aiden's back, still holding him tightly. "I don't hate you near me, sweetheart. I don't. Okay? It's the opposite. Sometimes I just don't know how to cope with any of this. I don't know how to cope with being sick or cope with knowing I'm never going to get better. Not really, it's just easy to pretend I'm fine. I don't know how to cope with the whole sexual side of things when I'm terrified that every time it happens, that's going to be it. It won't get better. I won't ever be able to have sex with you again. I'm not punishing you, Aiden ," he said, his own voice catching with emotion now, "I'm trying to help you live without it, so it doesn't hurt when it happens. And thinking about it happening just makes me so angry. At myself, at the disease, at the weakness, and I hate being angry. It's stopped me even seeing how much I was hurting you, and I'm sorry. I am so sorry. Hurting you is the last thing in this world I want."
Aiden sucked in a small breath, really not wanting to let go of Pat now he actually had some reciprocation. But he did, just a little, stepping back so he could at least see Pat's face, finding it damp with tears and immediately hating himself for exploding how he did and not dealing with it a little more rationally. "You need to tell me," he said, almost pleadingly and brushed his hands down Pat's arms so he could take his hands, squeezing them softly. "You need to talk to me, not push me away. I can't read your mind, Pat, even though I have tried until I'm driving myself mental. You need to tell me when you're scared... and just anything. Tell me. Please talk to me. I might not be able to help, but at least you won't be scared on your own, right? And I just..." He paused and let out a heavy sigh, biting his lip as he glanced down at the floor briefly. "I think you need some counselling, love. I know you've had it in the past, but... you're fearing your life away, when here and now, you're alive and kicking. You're wishing yourself into permanent disability before there's even any sign of it, and it's scaring me to think you just want to give up and not still live, even if it's just taking a day at a time. I need you to keep living, Pat. I need you... I need you to keep being you, not whoever it is you're trying to be so I get used to being without you. Don't short-change me in this marriage, Pat. No matter what the illness does to your body, you can always stay you, the guy I practically fell head over heels for at first sight."
Pat searched Aiden's eyes, pressing his lips together as he nodded. If he spoke straight away, he was going to lose it and be a sobbing mess. He didn't realise how coiled and tense he had been inside until Aiden was standing there yelling at him. A lot of what he had been doing had been subconscious; a result of a mess of negative thoughts and fears he wasn't sure how to deal with. Aiden was right, with all of it. He was especially right about the counselling. Pat had been sure he could cope without it beyond the initial grief counselling he had in the wake of the diagnosis. He really had been short-changing Aiden in their marriage, and now he realised how much he was risking it, and himself, in the process. He had let the illness own him... again. It was such an easy trap to fall into. "I just wish it wasn't me," he finally admitted in a tiny voice, no stopping the tears spilling over now and he put a hand over his face as if he could catch them and stop himself giving into the weakness.
It really felt to Aiden like someone shoved their hand into his chest, tore his heart out and shredded it in two in front of his eyes. It was his turn to draw Pat into a protective hug against him, giving into his own emotions by default. There was nothing worse in the whole world than seeing the person you loved hurt. "I know," he said quietly. "I know. If I could take it away for you, I would. I would do anything to give you that, love. But I can't, and that's okay, because we're going to be good. We're just going to deal with it, and on the shit days when it's bad, we're not going to deal, we're going to hurt and swear and maybe break down. Because it sucks, but I'd rather this than not have you at all, Pat. Fuck, you're the love of my life. Every single part of you. And maybe it's fucked up, but I like taking care of you when you need it. I love that you let me. I love that, even though I sucked at it at first, I can do it now and it makes things just a little bit easier for you. Just like I know you would do exactly the same for me if I was ill." He rubbed Pat's back, staying in the embrace this time. "Tell me what you need... what you want to do."
"Find a psychologist who specialises in people with MS," Pat decided, trying to swallow back more tears. "Even if it means coming to New York for the sessions. There's... other things I need to try and sort out in my head to with it all. I want to stop being a dickhead and get my head out of my arse. I want to stop waking up every morning feeling like a sick person. I want to fuck my husband, and fuck it, I'm going to try the pills again. The only reason I haven't is because they make me feel like even more of a sick person, which is ridiculously hypocritical on account of the fact I urged Lachie to use them when he needed them. Which he does, because he's not a dipstick like I am. But in my own defense, he was when I trying to talk him into it. Late twenties, it isn't easy to admit you need pills to get it up. I might be gay, but I still have a male ego."
Aiden couldn't help it. He laughed and had to pull back to see Pat's face again. "I can very much vouch that you're all male where it counts, love. Your cock might not always be able to come to the party, but it's still there and I still love it. Plus, I can think of a few other parts of your body I'd be more than happy to worship on a daily basis if you let me. I know it's frustrating when you can't..."
"Come," Pat intercepted wryly.
"Come," Aiden agreed, running his hands down Pat's back to his arse. "But that's not what it's all about, is it? We can still be intimate, have fun, make out, play with the parts of you that do work. I'm not pressuring you. I just want you to know me and my body are always yours for the taking whenever you want it. How long did Lachlan use the pills for? Maybe we can just make a rule to use them once a week, or something along those lines? If you don't want it, and you really don't feel like sex or the like, then we'll make popcorn and watch a movie. But if you do want it, and the only reason you're not is to try and get us to live without it, then we need to find other ways. Maybe the pills are an option."
Pat's lips twisted to the side as he thought on Aiden's words. "Not a matter of how long 'did' he use them, darling. He still does. Doesn't always need them, but occasionally he does. He keeps them on hand in case of emergency, like Imodium for diarrhoea. I'm surprised he hasn't got a bottle in a little 'Break in case of emergency' case beside the bed," he said with a smirk, putting a hand up to brush the lingering tears from his cheeks, sniffling a little now the emotions were hitting him like a tsunami. "Which maybe isn't such a bad idea..." he relented. He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb in the direction of their bedroom. "I have a prescription. Riley wrote it for me as a joke when he was trying to cheer me up last week."
Aiden smirked also, really imagining Lachlan doing something like that. He didn't realise the Scot still used the pills, though. Just goes to show it didn't need to be the stigma it was. "Are you sure you want to? We can do the popcorn thing instead? I mean, if you want to, I can duck down to the pharmacy and get it. Only if you want to," he added hastily. He couldn't deny if Pat was going to be in the mood to try, he would be right there, ready and willing. "Just promise me one thing? If it doesn't work, you won't get the shits and argue with me again? If it doesn't work, we just..." He waved his hand a little, trying to think of a Plan B.
"We just do the popcorn thing," Pat murmured, resting his tongue on his lower lip. "But I'm allowed to swear and bitch for a few minutes. I'll just take it out on a pigeon on the balcony instead," he bargained.
Aiden snorted with a laugh, pulling Pat closer and leaning in to brush their lips together. "I'll pick up a slingshot for you while I'm out," he promised and finally indulged in kissing his husband without reserve, and maybe even stealing a covert pinch of his arse.
Word Count | 2,826
The brief talk with Lachlan more than had Aiden in brooding contemplation. The Scot had a tendency to do that to people. He left you with a bunch of mental tools that set your brain into overdrive before you could stop it. Aiden was standing in the kitchen of his trendy Upper East Side apartment, absentmindedly stirring a cup of coffee probably way more than it needed as he stared out the kitchen windows across the rooftops of the neighbouring apartments. The rest of the apartment was quiet as he waited for Pat to come back from the gym. Cameron was staying there with them for a few days, but had yet to surface after the big New Year party the night before which had also functioned as Aiden's birthday bash. Everything seemed brilliant the night before, and he had an awesome time. It was only this morning that things got tense again. Another failed attempt in the bedroom had them nearly in an argument, probably only prevent by Pat's escaped to the gym before voices and tempers could flare any further.
Aiden was so lost in his thoughts that he jumped when he heard the apartment door open, but he abandoned the untouched coffee to head through into the main part of the apartment. He wanted to slap himself, but he actually had to fight not to be immediately turned on at the sight of Pat hot and sweaty in his gym clothes. The apartment building was one of those that came with its own gym and indoor pool, so there was no rugging up and heading out into the New York winter morning. Pat's light hair was damp and swept back off his face, the tight white t-shirt and grey trackpants just enough to drive Aiden wild. He really couldn't help it. Just because Pat was having trouble didn't mean Aiden didn't still want him. "Pat," he said, catching Pat's hand with his and bringing it up to his lips to kiss Pat's fingers.
Pat shot Aiden a brief hint of a smile and then twisted his hand out of his grip. "I'm all sweaty and gross, darling. I need to take a shower." He shifted away to put his gym bag on the floor. "Is Cameron up yet?" he asked.
"No," Aiden replied, trying not to get immediately annoyed or frustrated at Pat's seeming ease to pull away from him. "I'll take a shower with you. I haven't had one yet," he persisted.
"I just want to get in and out, Aiden. You can get one after me," Pat returned, a less approachable edge etching his tone. He shot Aiden a brief, unreadable look and started to head up the hall, hooking his finger into the neck of his shirt to tug it away from his body.
Aiden threw up his hands. "Goddamnit, Pat!" he cried, shaking his head as he started to pace a little. "I'm not trying to fucking rape you! I just want to spent time with you! You're doing everything in your power to not be alone in my presence lately! Do you really honestly think that all I want is fucking sex? That every time we're in a room on our own, I'm going to try and jump you?! And if not? Then I'm suddenly really worried about what the problem might be because I was under the delusion our marriage was doing well! Until it just... wasn't. Until you just stopped wanting to be near me. Even in bed... fuck, if there was anymore distance between us, we would be in fucking different states! Why did you marry me, Pat? Why? If you're not going to let me near you when things are tough, why the hell did you marry me?!" Okay, so it probably wasn't the sort of 'talking' Lachlan had in mind, but after being left to brood, Aiden had a swirl of thoughts in his head and just couldn't keep his calm. He was frustrated and he was upset. He didn't even have Harri to offload to because she had her hands full with a newborn, so he was left to stew, and this was the result.
Pat did have a sense that he was just slapped in the face, but Aiden hadn't - and never would - raise his hand to his husband. He had his back to Aiden when the explosion came and it was only when the final question was fired at him that Pat could manage to turn and look at Aiden, even if it was a slow action. He was hurt, no doubt about it, but Aiden was angry. They were both hurt, and until this moment, Pat didn't actually realise how much. His gut churned with a mix of guilt and confusion. He hadn't been pushing Aiden away that much, had he? "For your money? Is that what you want me to say?" he said with an unusual calmness, even if his voice was hoarse, eyes locked on Aiden's face. "Because I wanted a nurse? Because you wouldn't let me say no? What do you really want me to say, Aiden?"
"I want you to stop punishing me for choosing to be with you!" Aiden exploded. "I want you to stop fucking punishing me for doing everything you just said and still wanting to be with you for the rest of my life! I hate that you keep making me feel like I'm doing something wrong for wanting to be close to you when you're well and when you're sick! I hate that you make me feel like even lying naked next to you is a fucking crime and I'm causing some harm to you in some way! I hate that you keep making me second guess my ability to take care of you when you won't let me! I hate that when this happens to me, that you seem to lose all urge to be near me intimately! But you know what I hate the most? I hate that you can't even step close to me in an argument, let alone in any other capacity! You make me feel like a piece of shit sometimes, Pat! I'd rather have an ill husband who can lean on me and let me take care of him than one that can barely even look me in the eye some mornings," he ended, the words coming out in a rush of breath as he choked up and tears threatened.
Pat just breached the gap between them and wrapped his arms around Aiden in a sudden embrace. He just held him for a long few moments, hearing Aiden's heavy breathing against his ear and feeling how fast his heart was beating from the upset yelling. He brushed his hand over Aiden's back, still holding him tightly. "I don't hate you near me, sweetheart. I don't. Okay? It's the opposite. Sometimes I just don't know how to cope with any of this. I don't know how to cope with being sick or cope with knowing I'm never going to get better. Not really, it's just easy to pretend I'm fine. I don't know how to cope with the whole sexual side of things when I'm terrified that every time it happens, that's going to be it. It won't get better. I won't ever be able to have sex with you again. I'm not punishing you, Aiden ," he said, his own voice catching with emotion now, "I'm trying to help you live without it, so it doesn't hurt when it happens. And thinking about it happening just makes me so angry. At myself, at the disease, at the weakness, and I hate being angry. It's stopped me even seeing how much I was hurting you, and I'm sorry. I am so sorry. Hurting you is the last thing in this world I want."
Aiden sucked in a small breath, really not wanting to let go of Pat now he actually had some reciprocation. But he did, just a little, stepping back so he could at least see Pat's face, finding it damp with tears and immediately hating himself for exploding how he did and not dealing with it a little more rationally. "You need to tell me," he said, almost pleadingly and brushed his hands down Pat's arms so he could take his hands, squeezing them softly. "You need to talk to me, not push me away. I can't read your mind, Pat, even though I have tried until I'm driving myself mental. You need to tell me when you're scared... and just anything. Tell me. Please talk to me. I might not be able to help, but at least you won't be scared on your own, right? And I just..." He paused and let out a heavy sigh, biting his lip as he glanced down at the floor briefly. "I think you need some counselling, love. I know you've had it in the past, but... you're fearing your life away, when here and now, you're alive and kicking. You're wishing yourself into permanent disability before there's even any sign of it, and it's scaring me to think you just want to give up and not still live, even if it's just taking a day at a time. I need you to keep living, Pat. I need you... I need you to keep being you, not whoever it is you're trying to be so I get used to being without you. Don't short-change me in this marriage, Pat. No matter what the illness does to your body, you can always stay you, the guy I practically fell head over heels for at first sight."
Pat searched Aiden's eyes, pressing his lips together as he nodded. If he spoke straight away, he was going to lose it and be a sobbing mess. He didn't realise how coiled and tense he had been inside until Aiden was standing there yelling at him. A lot of what he had been doing had been subconscious; a result of a mess of negative thoughts and fears he wasn't sure how to deal with. Aiden was right, with all of it. He was especially right about the counselling. Pat had been sure he could cope without it beyond the initial grief counselling he had in the wake of the diagnosis. He really had been short-changing Aiden in their marriage, and now he realised how much he was risking it, and himself, in the process. He had let the illness own him... again. It was such an easy trap to fall into. "I just wish it wasn't me," he finally admitted in a tiny voice, no stopping the tears spilling over now and he put a hand over his face as if he could catch them and stop himself giving into the weakness.
It really felt to Aiden like someone shoved their hand into his chest, tore his heart out and shredded it in two in front of his eyes. It was his turn to draw Pat into a protective hug against him, giving into his own emotions by default. There was nothing worse in the whole world than seeing the person you loved hurt. "I know," he said quietly. "I know. If I could take it away for you, I would. I would do anything to give you that, love. But I can't, and that's okay, because we're going to be good. We're just going to deal with it, and on the shit days when it's bad, we're not going to deal, we're going to hurt and swear and maybe break down. Because it sucks, but I'd rather this than not have you at all, Pat. Fuck, you're the love of my life. Every single part of you. And maybe it's fucked up, but I like taking care of you when you need it. I love that you let me. I love that, even though I sucked at it at first, I can do it now and it makes things just a little bit easier for you. Just like I know you would do exactly the same for me if I was ill." He rubbed Pat's back, staying in the embrace this time. "Tell me what you need... what you want to do."
"Find a psychologist who specialises in people with MS," Pat decided, trying to swallow back more tears. "Even if it means coming to New York for the sessions. There's... other things I need to try and sort out in my head to with it all. I want to stop being a dickhead and get my head out of my arse. I want to stop waking up every morning feeling like a sick person. I want to fuck my husband, and fuck it, I'm going to try the pills again. The only reason I haven't is because they make me feel like even more of a sick person, which is ridiculously hypocritical on account of the fact I urged Lachie to use them when he needed them. Which he does, because he's not a dipstick like I am. But in my own defense, he was when I trying to talk him into it. Late twenties, it isn't easy to admit you need pills to get it up. I might be gay, but I still have a male ego."
Aiden couldn't help it. He laughed and had to pull back to see Pat's face again. "I can very much vouch that you're all male where it counts, love. Your cock might not always be able to come to the party, but it's still there and I still love it. Plus, I can think of a few other parts of your body I'd be more than happy to worship on a daily basis if you let me. I know it's frustrating when you can't..."
"Come," Pat intercepted wryly.
"Come," Aiden agreed, running his hands down Pat's back to his arse. "But that's not what it's all about, is it? We can still be intimate, have fun, make out, play with the parts of you that do work. I'm not pressuring you. I just want you to know me and my body are always yours for the taking whenever you want it. How long did Lachlan use the pills for? Maybe we can just make a rule to use them once a week, or something along those lines? If you don't want it, and you really don't feel like sex or the like, then we'll make popcorn and watch a movie. But if you do want it, and the only reason you're not is to try and get us to live without it, then we need to find other ways. Maybe the pills are an option."
Pat's lips twisted to the side as he thought on Aiden's words. "Not a matter of how long 'did' he use them, darling. He still does. Doesn't always need them, but occasionally he does. He keeps them on hand in case of emergency, like Imodium for diarrhoea. I'm surprised he hasn't got a bottle in a little 'Break in case of emergency' case beside the bed," he said with a smirk, putting a hand up to brush the lingering tears from his cheeks, sniffling a little now the emotions were hitting him like a tsunami. "Which maybe isn't such a bad idea..." he relented. He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb in the direction of their bedroom. "I have a prescription. Riley wrote it for me as a joke when he was trying to cheer me up last week."
Aiden smirked also, really imagining Lachlan doing something like that. He didn't realise the Scot still used the pills, though. Just goes to show it didn't need to be the stigma it was. "Are you sure you want to? We can do the popcorn thing instead? I mean, if you want to, I can duck down to the pharmacy and get it. Only if you want to," he added hastily. He couldn't deny if Pat was going to be in the mood to try, he would be right there, ready and willing. "Just promise me one thing? If it doesn't work, you won't get the shits and argue with me again? If it doesn't work, we just..." He waved his hand a little, trying to think of a Plan B.
"We just do the popcorn thing," Pat murmured, resting his tongue on his lower lip. "But I'm allowed to swear and bitch for a few minutes. I'll just take it out on a pigeon on the balcony instead," he bargained.
Aiden snorted with a laugh, pulling Pat closer and leaning in to brush their lips together. "I'll pick up a slingshot for you while I'm out," he promised and finally indulged in kissing his husband without reserve, and maybe even stealing a covert pinch of his arse.
Word Count | 2,826