"You know, I normally quite like you in this position."
Becker raises his head enough to glare at Danny in the mirror. He's sort of bent over the sink, hands braced on the edge of the counter, gripping it like it's his precious Mossberg in the middle of the zombie apocalypse. Behind him, Danny's standing holding a pair of tweezers in on hand, and Becker's hips in the other.
"You think you're funny," Becker says through clenched teeth.
"'Course I do. I think I'm hilarious, Hils." He grunts as the back of Becker's bare foot comes down on his equally bare toes. Clearly, Becker doesn't appreciate his pithy play on words. Granted, he doesn't expect Becker's in a position to appreciate much of anything that's not Danny stopping taking tweezers to the cuts on his back. "Right bang up job that medic did," he mutters under his breath.
He thinks he's got the last one, though, and as he drops the tiny shard of glass onto the roll of bloody gauze he's planning to bin in a minute, he gives Becker's hip a few pats.
"Think that's the last of it," he says, and Becker starts to straighten, but Danny catches him. "Come up slow." He's been standing there the better part of fifteen minutes. "Wouldn't want you getting the vapours on us, now."
Becker actually turns his head at that. "'Getting the vapors?'" he says incredulously.
Danny just shrugs and starts undressing.
"What are you doing?"
"I'd have thought that'd be obvious. You've seen it enough times."
"That's not what I meant." He's trying to sound irritated, Danny thinks, but it just comes out sounding tired. He needs sleep, and the sooner he can get showered and Danny can get him patched up, the happier he thinks they'll both be in the end.
Which is why he doesn't drag it out. "I'm getting in the shower with you, obviously."
Becker's brows furrow. "You can't."
"Bit late to play the blushing virgin, isn't it?"
The jab earns him, well, a jab.
"You're so violent."
"It's your fault; you bring it out in me."
Danny starts to protest, but then just shrugs again. "That's fair. But in the spirit of not having to drag you to casualty if you fall and knock your head on something, just humour me, yeah? Promise your virtue's safe with me."
"What about your neck?" Becker asks, nodding his head towards the bandage on Danny's neck.
Danny waves him off. "Oh, this little old thing? Don't even think on it."
"Danny." Funny, how Becker can say so much just by saying his name.
He rolls his eyes a bit. "It's nothing, Hils. Look." Carefully, he reaches up and starts peeling the plaster off. He winces a bit, but just because the adhesive pulls at the fine hair on his neck, but the wound itself isn't even that tender anymore. It's more of a graze than a bite; the creature couldn't quite manage to get its teeth in him, so it had just scraped two lines into his skin.
The way Becker looks at it, you'd think it was a mortal wound.
"What did the medics say?"
"Not much. Strangely, they aren't all that talkative." At Becker's frown, though, he relents and adds, "They said it would heal. No stitches necessary, and so long as I keep it clean, shouldn't do much more than leave behind a lovely scar. Which is fine by me, really. Think it makes me look rugged, don't you?"
"Right. Rugged." But Becker's got a hint of a smile in his eyes, and that's good enough for Danny. "And you're sure you're allowed to get it wet?"
"There are so many ways I could answer that question."
"Choose wisely."
Wisely, indeed. Danny opts not to say anything at all, and instead tugs his shirt off over his head and drops it in a pile on the floor. He can practically feel Becker's OCD kick in when he does. "Easy, soldier boy. I'll bin it later. Yours, too." His especially, actually. Even his trousers look like they're not going to survive the experience. They're filthy and torn on the inseam of his right leg. "Now, if you're done admiring the view, you think maybe we could actually get in the shower?"
It's not really a question, as evidenced by the fact that Danny drops trou when he's done and then closes in on Becker to do the same for him. He unfastens his trousers, stealing a kiss as he does. Even tired as he is, he feels a part of him stir that really ought not to, but he doesn't pay him any mind. This isn't about sex. There's plenty of time for that, when they're both slightly closer to alive. For now, he just wants to make Becker feel better. And maybe, in a way, he wants to make himself feel better about Becker. It's still too fresh, that moment when he thought Becker was dead. The pain of that loss, the guilt of it. He needs to prove to himself that Becker's hear, that even if he's scuffed up and worse for wear, he's here.
"I'm not an invalid," Becker protests mildly as Danny steers him towards the shower with hands on his hips.
Danny just smiles and reaches past him to turn on the water. Hot, but not too hot. It's going to sting enough as it is; best adjust to it gradually. "I know you aren't. Now, in." He gives Becker's bare arse a light slap that earns him a glare that's just a little too sleepy to be intimidating. He's winding down again, it seems like. Now that he's had it out and used up the last of his reserves, his body's telling him it's time to rest, now.
Well, maybe not just now.
Becker hisses as he steps under the spray. Exposed nerves and raw skin don't mix well with hot water at first, as Danny can attest. His neck stings like hell when the water hits it, but after a minute, the sting dies down to a dull burn. He thinks Becker's do the same, because after a moment, he starts to relax under the spray.
He lets Becker have at his front with the cloth, wiping away the grit and grime while Danny does the same, albeit a bit quicker. He's not as tender as Becker is right at the moment.
When Becker starts to try to get his back, though, Danny decides that's his cue. "Let me," he says, taking the cloth from Becker's hand. He's gentle as he can be, running the cloth along his shoulder. He knows it hurts, but he's got to get it clean, and Becker's smart enough not to make him chase him around the tub.
Actually, he does one better. As Danny moves the cloth down his arms, wiping away the last traces of dirt and sand from the future, he starts to notice Becker listing back. He's still upright, but he's leaning, and there's a sag to his normally-rigid posture that Danny identifies easily.
He smiles.
"Hey, Hils, turn 'round," he says softly. Becker's starting to doze off, is what's happening, and he knows he's prone to starting when he's in that halfway place between sleeping and awake. The point of this exercise isn't just to get him clean, it's to get him relaxed.
As it is, Becker takes a deeper breath than usual, but he doesn't tense. He looks over his shoulder, a little confused.
Danny just makes a spinning gesture with his hand. "Trust me, aye?"
And Becker does. Fatigue makes him pliable, and as he turns around to face Danny, it's not hard to coax him in a little closer.
"Lean on me." He wants him close, but it's also practical. If Becker dozes off and starts to fall, there's not a whole hell of a lot Danny thinks he'll be able to do but slow his descent and maybe cushion his fall. At least if he's leaning on him, he's got a few points of contact to work with.
Becker doesn't argue. He lets Danny guide his head down onto his shoulder (not the one next to the predator bite), and Danny resumes cleaning.
Every so often, his breath catches, as Danny ghosts over a particularly sore cut or tender bruise, but for the most part, Becker doesn't so much as stir against Danny. If he didn't know any better, he'd say Becker is asleep standing up.
So, he might take a little longer than necessary finishing up. It's not every day he gets a fully-trained super soldier at his mercy, and maybe he's enjoying the little bit of peace and quiet. A little bit of tranquillity.
Eventually, though, he gives him a bit of a nudge. "Come on, soldier boy. Time to get dry."
It's a bit of a struggle, getting Becker out. He's limping heavier now, probably thanks to the wound on the inside of his thigh. It looks like a graze from something, not quite like the ones on Danny's neck, but not entirely dissimilar. It looks like it hurts, at any rate, and Danny guides him to sit on the toilet while he gets dried off and dressed himself. He replaces the plaster on his neck quick enough, then turns back to Becker.
"Still with me, soldier boy?" His eyes are open, but only just. Danny thinks it's only by sheer force of will that he's not slumped back against the tank, having a kip.
He nods.
"Alright. You want to do this here, then, or on the bed?"
"I don't care."
In the end, Danny takes care of him right there, rather than moving him. That way, he figures just as soon as he's settled in bed, he can nod off, and Danny won't have to disturb him.
It takes a while. He ends up stitching the wound on his shoulder. "Don't look at it," he tells him as he pulls the string through his skin. He doesn't even want to look at it. It's not that he's squeamish, but he can tell by the death grip Becker's got on the front of his shirt that he's not enjoying himself. "Just keep breathing."
The rest, he thinks he can get away with butterfly stitches or gauze pads. The plasters hold the skin together where it needs to be, and the gauze over antiseptic cream keeps the scuffs from drying out prematurely.
"Take a deep breath and let it out," he instructs as he wraps his chest. He takes it up onto his shoulder, as well, wrapping it tight enough for compression, but not tight enough that it infringes on his breathing or his blood circulation. It's not done swelling just yet, he expects. He'll keep ice on it the rest of the night, if he can.
He does the same for his leg, when Becker begrudgingly admits that it's not just the graze that's got him limping. He thinks he might've pulled something. Danny wraps it just in case, and after he's got him dressed in some loose running trousers and a button-up that he doesn't have to try to get over his head, he makes him stay off it as much as he can on the way out to the bedroom.
"Easy, now," he says as he helps him sit on the bed. "Let's get some painkillers in you, yeah?" He's already got a glass of water ready, and he shakes out a couple pills into his hand.
"I don't need them. I'm just going to sleep."
Because, of course, it's not about feeling better, it's about being practical.
Danny rolls his eyes. "And you'll sleep a lot better if you're not hurting so badly."
"It's not that bad."
"You get worse at lying when you're tired, you know."
Becker rolls his eyes, but makes no move to take the pills.
This isn't Danny's first party, though. He knows why Becker doesn't want to take them. "Hey, there's nothing you've got to worry about for the next few days, at least. Lester's sent word you're not to set foot in the ARC for the rest of the week."
"You're all overreacting."
"Says the man pulling a very uncanny impersonation of a mummy." He holds the pills closer to Becker. "Just take the damn things. It's just me, here. I won't even record it if you get a bit loopy."
Which is a very light way of addressing Becker's real fear. He's a control freak to his very core, and the thought of not having complete control of his faculties is an uncomfortable one for someone like him. He's guarded; Danny thinks there are parts of himself he's afraid of letting out.
He brushes a hand over Becker's neck. "There's no-one here to protect, Hils. So just take the damn pills and feel better."
And mercifully, that seems to do the trick, because with one last moment's hesitation, he takes the pills and knocks them back. Danny's waiting with the glass of water, which Becker drinks down to the last.
"There, that wasn't so bad was it?"
Becker just rolls his eyes and starts to lie back. He moves gingerly, but Danny doesn't try to help him. He's put up with enough of Danny's assistance the past few hours; he thinks his ego might start rebelling. Instead, he busies himself getting an ice pack from the freezer, and when he comes back, Becker's more or less settled in. He's lying on his right side (Danny expects his back is tender, and the less weight he can put on his shoulder, the better off he'll be), and his eyes are closed, and even though he's not asleep, Danny doesn't think it'll be long before he is.
"There's a good soldier boy," he says softly, smiling as he eases into the bed next to him. He's gentle, putting the ice pack to his shoulder and sliding it under some of the wrap to hold it in place. It'll thaw in a little under a half hour, so he doesn't have to worry about taking it out. Hopefully, though, it'll help with some of the pain and swelling.
Carefully, he shifts until he's right up behind Becker. He's not quite flush; he doesn't want to hurt his back. But he's close enough that he can slip an arm around his waist, and press his lips to his neck.
"Sleep tight, Hils."
Christ, but he's a lucky man.
