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justprompts | Nature's way
Friday, 15 August 2008 14:42![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
strips4uPain is just Nature's way of saying "HEY! You're alive!" - Ares
Co-written with Remy LeBeau [![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dontdotricks]
It was the early hours of the morning when Flynn returned from his client appointment. The woman had merely wanted an escort for the function and apparently had plans to go home and fuck her male nanny. To each his own. All Flynn cared about was the massive tip she gave him, apparently more than happy with his services for the night. Instead of going to his own apartment, he chose to crash Maddy’s pad; it was closer than his and it would give him a chance to catch up with her in the morning.
Of course, his BFF had filled him in via a string of text messages earlier in the night that the Cajun was in her bed, though not in the juicy, orgasmic way. Chicken pox. Flynn had been somewhat relieved to hear that because he’d well and truly picked up in their shower shag that something was off. Of course, the first conclusion he had jumped to had been that Remy had lost interest and this was only emphasised when the other man cut the clinch short by getting out of the shower and leaving Maddy and Flynn to it. But where Flynn had expected Remy to leave, the red-eyed enigma had stayed on, leaving Flynn to assume he was the issue. Typical third wheel syndrome, he’d decided. He’d been making plans in his head all evening to tell Maddy he’d back off so she could have a crack with Remy. Flynn thought the guy was decent and good for Maddy, but he couldn’t judge if the bloke wasn’t into men or three-ways.
So when Maddy’s series of messages came through explaining what had happened and how she eventually convinced Remy to at least stay the night while he was poorly, the situation gained a little more clarity. Maybe Remy wasn’t losing interest in the situation at all? Maybe it all really was just because he’d been feeling crappy. That was something Flynn more than understood.
Flynn hadn’t expected, however, to run in to the Cajun when he crept quietly into Maddy’s apartment at around three am. As he was carefully putting his keys down on the coffee table, he heard the toilet flush in the distance and a few moments later, the bathroom door opened and Remy appeared from up the hall looking like death warmed over… only with a sense that one wanted to grab a pen and play connect-the-dots on his face. He was covered in spots and Flynn immediately felt sympathy for the poor bugger. Maddy had made a point of letting Flynn know Remy probably wasn’t a generally sickly person because he’d been a little pissed to discover he was ill. Again, Flynn got that completely.
Remy had on one of Flynn’s old t-shirts and a pair of his sweat pants, proffered by Maddy earlier when she’d insisted he couldn’t sleep in jeans in and a button-up, nor could he sleep naked if he was sick. He needed to be comfortable. He felt strange in this sort of environment and hadn’t been used to having anyone care for him when he was sick, but Maddy had been attentive all evening and he wasn’t sure how to take that.
He glanced at the clock, noting the time. “Good night then, mon ami?” he murmured and took a seat on the sofa, tucking his legs up underneath himself and resting his throbbing head against the back cushions. He’d just spent the last fifteen minutes being sick again and all the leftover adrenaline from the exertion of it meant he wasn’t going to be able to just go back to bed and sleep just yet. Besides that, he was as itchy as all hell, despite Maddy lathering him in that pink shit. He was uncomfortable and miserable and didn’t want that to disrupt Maddy’s sleep.
“Business as usual,” Flynn confirmed with a shrug. He watched Remy for a moment and then sat down beside him to pull his shoes off and peel off his tie. “Maddy told me you were diseased. Tough break, man, but don’t be too fooled by her sex pot exterior. Beneath the bod lays a fucking damn good little nurse. And I won’t be too far away if you need anything either. I know how arse it is to be sick, trust me.”
Remy scratched a little at his arm and then stopped, remembering Maddy’s repetitive chastising to not do just that. “You’re talking from experience, homme,” he noted. “I don’t want to be a pest. I’ll just head home in the morning. You’re right, she’s been wonderful, but I don’t want her to feel obligated.”
“Yeah, experience…” Flynn said softly. “Have you got anyone to go home to? A friend to keep you company while you’re feeling crap?”
“I live in a school. People are always around,” Remy replied and shifted in the seat restlessly.
Flynn turned in his own seat so he Remy had his undivided attention. “That’s not what I asked. A school full of people doesn’t necessarily mean a friend or family member who can play nurse when you’re sick. It’s no fun being alone when you’re not feeling good.”
Remy’s eyes had fallen closed tiredly and he opened them half way to contemplate Flynn. “Other than work, I’m mostly a solitary person. I don’t have any living family and my friends are busy in their own lives. It’s why I never really sit still for very long. There’s always new people to meet.”
“None of whom can take care of you when you have chicken pox, seemingly.” Flynn pulled a cushion out from behind his back and offered it to Remy for his head. “You can stay here, man. Maddy wants you to. There’s room. It’ll only be for a week or two. I’ve had chicken pox. For a good few days all you’ll want to do is lie in bed and sleep when you aren’t lying there wanting to scratch your skin off.”
Remy gratefully accepted the cushion and put it under his cheek. “I can’t really sleep that well. I’m too uncomfortable. Sick.” He rubbed his itchy forehead. “I hardly ever throw up. I’ve done that more this past few hours than I ever have in my life. Merde, ça craint,” he mumbled.
Flynn didn’t know what he said, but damn it was hot. Even spotty, talking about puking and clearly miserable, the Cajun’s lips and voice were hypnotic. He hesitated for a moment and then reached over to brush his fingers through Remy’s hair. “It’s crap,” he agreed. “But in Maddy’s hands, you’ll feel better real soon.”
Remy’s eyes pierced Flynn’s but he made no move to pull away from the touch. A few more moments of analysis of the other man and then Remy let his eyes fall closed again, unable to help enjoying the soft, comforting strokes. “Did Madison care for you when you had chicken pox?” he asked.
There was a pause in the strokes and Flynn glanced down at Remy’s face. He looked like he was sleeping, but the lethargic rubbing of his chest through the t-shirt told him otherwise. “No,” he finally admitted. “I had it when I was a kid. My Mum and grandparents took care of me.”
“So, how did you come to learn of Madison’s nursing skills?” Remy asked, eyes opening again so he could see Flynn’s face.
This was it. An opening. Flynn was silent at first; he pulled the soft throw rug Maddy kept over the back of her sofa for movie marathons into his lap and unfolded it to lay it over Remy, tucking the edges around his arm and hip. “She had to look after me when I was too sick to do it myself,” he murmured and then cleared his throat. “I had cancer. Leukemia. But I’m in remission now. In fact, it’s nearly three years to the day that I was diagnosed. She was a great nurse, friend, rock. See? That’s why she’ll have it all in hand for y-”
Remy cut him off by curling his hand gently around Flynn’s wrist. “You do not have to dilute the situation for me by continuing with light chatter, homme,” he said quietly. He searched Flynn’s eyes with his own. “You had cancer. How long have you been in remission?”
Remy’s hand was warm around Flynn’s wrist. Flynn turned his hand over and their hands slid into each other. Remy didn’t pull away this time either and Flynn was grateful for that. “Just under two years. I was sick for over a year and they told me I only had six months to live. I didn’t expect to live. I still don’t know why I was one of the lucky ones but I swore now that I had a second chance, I was going to do whatever the fuck I pleased with my life. Hence the fact I took up fucking as a career. I like my life. I wouldn’t change it.”
“I’m glad you beat it, mon ami.” Remy put Flynn’s hand to his mouth and kissed it softly.
Flynn stared at Remy for a moment as he realised another of his mysterious Cajun layers had just seemed to be peeled away. “Me too,” he whispered.
Madison James [canmakeufeel] referenced with permission
* Merde, ça craint = “Shit, it sucks”
Words | 1,555
Co-written with Remy LeBeau [
dontdotricks]It was the early hours of the morning when Flynn returned from his client appointment. The woman had merely wanted an escort for the function and apparently had plans to go home and fuck her male nanny. To each his own. All Flynn cared about was the massive tip she gave him, apparently more than happy with his services for the night. Instead of going to his own apartment, he chose to crash Maddy’s pad; it was closer than his and it would give him a chance to catch up with her in the morning.
Of course, his BFF had filled him in via a string of text messages earlier in the night that the Cajun was in her bed, though not in the juicy, orgasmic way. Chicken pox. Flynn had been somewhat relieved to hear that because he’d well and truly picked up in their shower shag that something was off. Of course, the first conclusion he had jumped to had been that Remy had lost interest and this was only emphasised when the other man cut the clinch short by getting out of the shower and leaving Maddy and Flynn to it. But where Flynn had expected Remy to leave, the red-eyed enigma had stayed on, leaving Flynn to assume he was the issue. Typical third wheel syndrome, he’d decided. He’d been making plans in his head all evening to tell Maddy he’d back off so she could have a crack with Remy. Flynn thought the guy was decent and good for Maddy, but he couldn’t judge if the bloke wasn’t into men or three-ways.
So when Maddy’s series of messages came through explaining what had happened and how she eventually convinced Remy to at least stay the night while he was poorly, the situation gained a little more clarity. Maybe Remy wasn’t losing interest in the situation at all? Maybe it all really was just because he’d been feeling crappy. That was something Flynn more than understood.
Flynn hadn’t expected, however, to run in to the Cajun when he crept quietly into Maddy’s apartment at around three am. As he was carefully putting his keys down on the coffee table, he heard the toilet flush in the distance and a few moments later, the bathroom door opened and Remy appeared from up the hall looking like death warmed over… only with a sense that one wanted to grab a pen and play connect-the-dots on his face. He was covered in spots and Flynn immediately felt sympathy for the poor bugger. Maddy had made a point of letting Flynn know Remy probably wasn’t a generally sickly person because he’d been a little pissed to discover he was ill. Again, Flynn got that completely.
Remy had on one of Flynn’s old t-shirts and a pair of his sweat pants, proffered by Maddy earlier when she’d insisted he couldn’t sleep in jeans in and a button-up, nor could he sleep naked if he was sick. He needed to be comfortable. He felt strange in this sort of environment and hadn’t been used to having anyone care for him when he was sick, but Maddy had been attentive all evening and he wasn’t sure how to take that.
He glanced at the clock, noting the time. “Good night then, mon ami?” he murmured and took a seat on the sofa, tucking his legs up underneath himself and resting his throbbing head against the back cushions. He’d just spent the last fifteen minutes being sick again and all the leftover adrenaline from the exertion of it meant he wasn’t going to be able to just go back to bed and sleep just yet. Besides that, he was as itchy as all hell, despite Maddy lathering him in that pink shit. He was uncomfortable and miserable and didn’t want that to disrupt Maddy’s sleep.
“Business as usual,” Flynn confirmed with a shrug. He watched Remy for a moment and then sat down beside him to pull his shoes off and peel off his tie. “Maddy told me you were diseased. Tough break, man, but don’t be too fooled by her sex pot exterior. Beneath the bod lays a fucking damn good little nurse. And I won’t be too far away if you need anything either. I know how arse it is to be sick, trust me.”
Remy scratched a little at his arm and then stopped, remembering Maddy’s repetitive chastising to not do just that. “You’re talking from experience, homme,” he noted. “I don’t want to be a pest. I’ll just head home in the morning. You’re right, she’s been wonderful, but I don’t want her to feel obligated.”
“Yeah, experience…” Flynn said softly. “Have you got anyone to go home to? A friend to keep you company while you’re feeling crap?”
“I live in a school. People are always around,” Remy replied and shifted in the seat restlessly.
Flynn turned in his own seat so he Remy had his undivided attention. “That’s not what I asked. A school full of people doesn’t necessarily mean a friend or family member who can play nurse when you’re sick. It’s no fun being alone when you’re not feeling good.”
Remy’s eyes had fallen closed tiredly and he opened them half way to contemplate Flynn. “Other than work, I’m mostly a solitary person. I don’t have any living family and my friends are busy in their own lives. It’s why I never really sit still for very long. There’s always new people to meet.”
“None of whom can take care of you when you have chicken pox, seemingly.” Flynn pulled a cushion out from behind his back and offered it to Remy for his head. “You can stay here, man. Maddy wants you to. There’s room. It’ll only be for a week or two. I’ve had chicken pox. For a good few days all you’ll want to do is lie in bed and sleep when you aren’t lying there wanting to scratch your skin off.”
Remy gratefully accepted the cushion and put it under his cheek. “I can’t really sleep that well. I’m too uncomfortable. Sick.” He rubbed his itchy forehead. “I hardly ever throw up. I’ve done that more this past few hours than I ever have in my life. Merde, ça craint,” he mumbled.
Flynn didn’t know what he said, but damn it was hot. Even spotty, talking about puking and clearly miserable, the Cajun’s lips and voice were hypnotic. He hesitated for a moment and then reached over to brush his fingers through Remy’s hair. “It’s crap,” he agreed. “But in Maddy’s hands, you’ll feel better real soon.”
Remy’s eyes pierced Flynn’s but he made no move to pull away from the touch. A few more moments of analysis of the other man and then Remy let his eyes fall closed again, unable to help enjoying the soft, comforting strokes. “Did Madison care for you when you had chicken pox?” he asked.
There was a pause in the strokes and Flynn glanced down at Remy’s face. He looked like he was sleeping, but the lethargic rubbing of his chest through the t-shirt told him otherwise. “No,” he finally admitted. “I had it when I was a kid. My Mum and grandparents took care of me.”
“So, how did you come to learn of Madison’s nursing skills?” Remy asked, eyes opening again so he could see Flynn’s face.
This was it. An opening. Flynn was silent at first; he pulled the soft throw rug Maddy kept over the back of her sofa for movie marathons into his lap and unfolded it to lay it over Remy, tucking the edges around his arm and hip. “She had to look after me when I was too sick to do it myself,” he murmured and then cleared his throat. “I had cancer. Leukemia. But I’m in remission now. In fact, it’s nearly three years to the day that I was diagnosed. She was a great nurse, friend, rock. See? That’s why she’ll have it all in hand for y-”
Remy cut him off by curling his hand gently around Flynn’s wrist. “You do not have to dilute the situation for me by continuing with light chatter, homme,” he said quietly. He searched Flynn’s eyes with his own. “You had cancer. How long have you been in remission?”
Remy’s hand was warm around Flynn’s wrist. Flynn turned his hand over and their hands slid into each other. Remy didn’t pull away this time either and Flynn was grateful for that. “Just under two years. I was sick for over a year and they told me I only had six months to live. I didn’t expect to live. I still don’t know why I was one of the lucky ones but I swore now that I had a second chance, I was going to do whatever the fuck I pleased with my life. Hence the fact I took up fucking as a career. I like my life. I wouldn’t change it.”
“I’m glad you beat it, mon ami.” Remy put Flynn’s hand to his mouth and kissed it softly.
Flynn stared at Remy for a moment as he realised another of his mysterious Cajun layers had just seemed to be peeled away. “Me too,” he whispered.
Madison James [
canmakeufeel] referenced with permission* Merde, ça craint = “Shit, it sucks”
Words | 1,555
