Glance
"You feeling okay?"
"I'm fine," Havoc said tartly. "A little bit of exercise is not going to kill me! I was injured, and now I'm getting better."
"I can't help it if I worry about you. You looked like death warmed up for a good long period of time after you got home."
"Hmph." They made it to the men's locker room. "You don't have to hover, Ed. I'm not going to pass out."
"How can I be sure?" the young man argued.
"I hurt my arm and my leg! There wasn't any concussion, and I seriously doubt that the blood loss of three or so months past is going to affect me in any way, shape or form!"
Ed flinched at that. "I'm allowed to be worried, aren't I?" he muttered. "I don't like losing people I care for, you know."
Havoc sighed. "I'm sorry. I just don't like being fussed over." He peeled out of his tee-shirt, throwing it in a handy bag. "I'm independent and annoying by nature."
"You're not that bad," Ed protested, grinning. "You can't be worse than me, anyway."
"Try me." Havoc shook his head and raked his hair back. The scars on his arms were fading, and he was almost up to full strength. "I bet I could give you a run for your money..."
He completely missed the glance Ed shot his way, hot and hungry, golden and longing.
