It only took an hour or so to talk Sebastian through most of the machines, the treadmill being a challenge they decided to postpone.
"It's dangerous," Dave insisted when Sebastian assured him that a treadmill had to be the tamest of work-out equipment.
"How can it be dangerous," Sebastian frowned as he came up on a crunch, "it's walking. Granted that's become more troublesome but still it's hardly dangerous."
Dave refused to get distracted by the way Sebastian's muscles flexed as he came into view, "Did you ever try to close your eyes while you were on a treadmill? Before, I mean."
Sebastian stopped, his face only a few inches away from his, "No, that's stupid."
"Well I have," he said, pulling slightly away, "you lose your balance. Very quickly."
Sebastian resumed his movements, "Why would you do that?"
"To understand what its like," Dave spoke as if it were obvious, "How can I help if I don't understand what the problem is?"
Sebastian paused again, this time with his back against the floor, he didn't say anything for a moment before sitting up again, "Ok that's enough for today, I can smell lunch."
Dave sat back, letting go of Sebastian's ankles, "You can smell it. I don't smell anything."
"I can also hear the stupid dog three houses down," he smirked, "I'm like Daredevil."
Dave laughed, "Horrible movie."
"Great comic," he countered as he stood and grabbed for the towel he'd left on the chair beside them.
Dave handed it to him without comment, "Not my favorite."
He held the towel too tightly in his hands without moving, "Well I'm partial now."
They hadn't discussed if Dave would be helping him with anything aside from training, so he wasn't really sure if he was being dismissed. He sort of hoped he wasn't because he was running out of movie marathons to have with himself, "So are we done for…"
Sebastian cut in quickly, "What other experiments have you performed?"
"Experiments?"
Sebastian smiled as he pulled the door open, "You went on a treadmill with your eyes closed? That couldn't have been an isolated incident."
Dave thought about that for a moment, thought about his odd interest in helping the blind when he'd never met a blind person before. He had books, lots of books, "I can read Braille."
Sebastian held on to the railing and started down the stairs, "Can you?"
"Well I suck at it," he admitted as they reached the landing, "thick fingers."
Sebastian was about to make a quip about but he reached out instead and congratulated himself when he didn't miss Dave's hand. The man froze as Sebastian took his hand in both of his and ran his fingers over it. He smirked, "Thick fingers indeed."
It was incredible what he noticed now that he couldn't see a thing. He could hear the change in someone's breathing when they were about to speak, when they were about to ask him something, when he was stepping closer or further away. Dave's breathing did interesting things as he examined his hand with his own.
He smiled as he let go, "Lunch?"
Days spent with Sebastian didn't feel like work. At first he only spent the first half of the day with him, three times a week, giving him a hand with his work out and staying for lunch.
It never managed to feel like work, Sebastian didn't really need much help, just knowing someone was nearby gave him all the confidence he needed to work on his own.
Honestly it felt as if he were just at the gym with a friend, talking about music and the movies that Sebastian had watched so many times that he could still see them in his mind if he listened to them playing. Sometimes they did just that, after lunch, just sit in the too fancy TV room and play the movies that would still play almost flawlessly in Sebastian's mind.
"I'm going to need you to come in Tuesdays and Thursdays too," Sebastian said one afternoon.
They were having grilled cheese in the kitchen and talking about the pros and cons of monster trucks in suburban neighborhoods and Dave had no idea where that had come from, "I can't."
"Why not?" he paused his sandwich mid way to his mouth, "I'm going to pay you for the extra days I'm not a slave driver."
Dave grimaced to himself, "It's not that, I'm busy."
"Oh come on," he scoffed, "busy in those 20 square feet of basement apartment you live in?"
He set his food down and crossed his arms, "I have a life Sebastian. But to answer your question I have other patients on Tuesdays and Thursdays."
He didn't miss the way Sebastian recoiled at the word, he wished he could take it back just to make the tension leave his shoulders but he couldn't. That was what he was, his patient.
Sebastian crossed his arms, mirroring Dave's stance so perfectly that he wondered not for the first time if Sebastian could see just fine after all, "I'm sure someone can cover you for those …patients."
"I'm sure someone could cover for me here as well," he countered, not sure why he was so annoyed right now. Maybe it was the implication that he was at Sebastian's beck and call. Which he was. Monday, Wednesdays, and Fridays from eight to four.
Sebastian turned away, adjusting the sleek sunglasses David had talked him into wearing when shutting his eyes all day had started giving him migraines, "Forget it."
Dave sighed and let his arms fall, "What did you want help with?"
"I said forget it," Sebastian grabbed his white cane, "I can manage on my own."
Dave knew when he closed off like this it was impossible to talk to him, something Juanita told him had been the case since he'd been five years old, "Just tell me what you…"
"I can manage on my own, David," he hissed, "I'll see you Monday."
The tone of Sebastian's words stung. It was something they'd just picked up, phrases like see you around or see it to believe it had become a joke between the two, tongue in cheek and familiar. And now Sebastian was twisting it in his frustration, just like he did everything else.
Dave sat at home that night, some unremarkable old sitcom playing in the background, his phone in his hand. He'd never argued with a patient before, granted they were usually sweet elderly people whom he found adorable, not strong willed beautiful boys who infuriated him. He'd fought with friends though, but he couldn't be sure that's what they were. He sighed and mumbled to himself, "God Sebastian, you're going to be the death of me."
His Tuesday/Thursday patient was a sweet old lady, Mrs. Ferris. She always had visitors, whether it was her children or friends over for tea. Mostly he sorted her groceries and made sure everything was in order around the house. It was boring really, it was work. It was the reality of what he did for a living, unglamorous as those things often turned out to be.
He took a look at the clock on his kitchen counter. It was only half past eight, not too late to call then. The line only rang twice before it was picked up, "Darcy? Hi, no yeah I'm fine. Hey are you interested in taking on Mrs. Ferris? Yeah, Tuesdays and Thursdays."
He smiled to himself, "No it's just… I've got a friend I need to help out."
A/N: Thank you so much for the Story Alerts and Reviews! It's lovely to see that you're enjoying it, please let me know your thoughts if you get a chance!