Down and Out
Category: Fluff
Pairing: Helen/Will established.
Summary: Will has a slightly embarrassing accident, but it's nothing that a rub down and few bad puns can't fix.
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Own nudda, nothing, zip.
Authors Notes: Thanks to all the lovely reviews for my last story, Call It a Win. This one's another short one, I seem to be in a very fluffy mood of late. Although having said that I have a fairly angsty one in the works and am keen to do a tag for Carentan. Just watched that episode and there is major potential there :P
On a more personal note, I'm making a fairly big move next week from Australia to the UK! So after this weekend (I'll try and get the above finished) I may have to take a little break from posting until I get myself sorted with a place live, internet etc. So I would just like to thank everyone again cause reviews make the world go round! :D
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He winces as she kneads her fingers down, pressing into his tight shoulder blade. The latex feels clinical, scratching against his skin and he instinctively arches forward on the uncomfortable infirmary bed. She immediately plants him back down with a firm but gentle grasp and he closes his eyes trying to ignore the twinge in his lower back.
"Care to tell me how it was you managed to pull your deltiod muscle?" Her voice is warm, hovering towards amused as she uncaps a bottle of heat gel and smears it over her gloves. She can only imagine how he's come about the injury and his slight grimace only heightens her curiosity. "Come now Will, it can't be that embarrassing... or perhaps it can?"
He feels her lips pull into a grin behind him and straightens, eager to douse her smugness. "Hey," he counters defensively, "how do I know you're not the one responsible? If I recall it wasn't me being the overly frisky one last night."
Clearly the statement has the desired effect because she 'inadvertently' pinches a particularly tight nerve and he winces, mentally noting not to rile her when she quite literally has the upper hand.
"Fine-" he deliberately accentuates the next part in her thick British accent, "if you 'absolutely must know'... I was playing foosball, the floor was wet and I slipped."
She tightens the reign on her smile, trying not to laugh for fear of offending him when it suddenly occurs to her that don't have a foosball table, at least not one that she's aware of. "Am I to hazard a guess as to who might of smuggled the game in?" She's a little perplexed but more so by the way his muscles seemingly tense under her hands.
"I, ah..." he stumbles, realising The Big Guy will hunt him down if he reveals the abnormal's secret hideout and opts for shifting the blame instead. "Henry's got one stashed away out the back... though I think I might have busted it on the way down."
She unsuccessfully smothers her laughter at the imagery and straight away feels guilty for the less than professional response. "Sorry, I really-" she coughs into the back of her hand trying to redeem herself, "I am sorry, it isn't at all funny."
"Gee thanks. Cause you know, lack of co-ordination aside, it's actually quite painful." Though he's being serious he keeps his tone light relieved that her attention has been diverted away from The Big Guy, until he hears the sudden snap of latex. For a moment he thinks he's upset her and is about to apologise when he feels the soft touch of her skin on his bare back.
"Stay still, this will help." She's determined to make up for laughing and fluently climbs up onto the bed, kneeling so that she can keep a steady momentum behind her palm. "Feeling a little better?"
"Yeah, that's-" he falters, taking on a slightly higher pitch as she wedges closer, biting her teeth gently into his shoulder. "That's... wow, yep... that's working-" he breathes out in a rush and feels her smile against the skin, right before her other hand tracks around to the front of his chest.
"How's the pain?" She questions, flicking her tongue teasingly over his earlobe.
The most he manages to express is a rough groan as her nail glides back and forth over his tingling skin, a combination of the heat gel and her movements sending a shiver down his spine.
Oh, he's in pain all right. Not the sort he initially came in with but there's definitely some discomfort there
She eases up a little, not wanting to aggravate his shoulder and he's more than a little disappointed when both her hands return to a more appropriate position. "Come on," he swallows, winning back a little more control, "that's got to be the shortest rub down in history?"
As tempting as it is to utilise the bed beneath them, she keeps firm in her resolve. They're not exactly in a prime location and if he were to throw his back out then the blame really would fall to her. "Perhaps if your injury was caused by actually playing football and not slipping over on the sidelines..." she smiles, leaving the comment open as she switches back to doctor mode and slides of the bed.
He sighs at the loss of her warmth and flatly reaches for his discarded shirt. By the time he has it pulled -albeit awkwardly- over his head, she's back in front of him and helping to ease it down. When it's neatly fitted in place she extends her hand, producing a translucent orange container.
"Here, take these-" she presses gently, aware of his penchants for taking medication, "one with food every four hours. They'll help, trust me."
He accepts the painkillers -if only so he can wrap his hand around hers- and jerks firmly so that she settles between his thighs, finding her lips before her mouth can even quirk towards a protest. His hand slips around the labcoat to keep her in place and he's surprised that she indulges him for as long as she does.
There's no hesitation, no indication she disapproves until her hand eventually worms free and presses him back, "all right water boy, half time appears to be over."
"God, you did not just say that-" he sputters, though really he's secretly enjoying the fact she's gaining so much amusement at his expense. He'll wear the pain any day so long as it means getting to watch her find a moment's reprieve from the stressful workload that usually engulfs her.
Letting her step back, he jumps down off the bed wary of the sudden gleam in her eyes. "I'm never going to live this down am I?"
"I'm afraid not-" she states, barely containing another large smile, "in fact a joke like this has 'running' potential for at least a week."
"Okay that's it, I'm outta here!" His feet push towards the door but he stops just shy of the threshold when her voice calls him back. If it's for another bad pun he might just down the entire bottle in his hand, save himself from the pain of embarrassment, but he decides to give her the benefit of the doubt and reluctantly turns to face her.
"Just out of of curiosity-" she folds her arms, lifting a brow in an amicable fashion, "tell me, did you at least win?"
He flushes slightly, scratching the back of his head as the truth flies out, "no, no one did. I ah... went down in the first round." She nods in acceptance, her smirk increasing but he quickly mimics the expression with a comeback of his own, "of course, if it had been the two of us playing I wouldn't have needed the table to score."
She can feel the blush creeping up her neck but doesn't dare let it affect her composure. "Quite the contrary Will. I think you'll find when we play, the table may very well prove to be quite a useful surface."
Once again he's put back in his place, imagining the finer details of what she's suggesting and it takes him all the way to the elevator to realise that working around the protruding rods isn't going to be his biggest problem.
How the hell is he going to get the foosball table up six levels to Henry's lab without anyone noticing?