[2004]
He was halfway through his latest beer when his attention was torn towards the entrance where Trent hobbled back in.
Metal placed his bottle back on the table, he tried to keep the worried look off his face as he tried to figure out what had happened in the ten minutes Trent, Thirty and Brett had been outside.
He frowned a little, and chose to pull out the chair to his right.
"What happened?" he grumbled as Trent limped over.
"Nothing." Trent swallowed as he sat down.
"T went down, HARD!" Thirty Mike chuckled and shook his head as Trent lowered himself to the chair.
"Yeah? What happened?" Jason shot in.
"Ran straight into a pothole." Trent frowned as he placed his right foot on top of his left knee and rubbed at his ankle.
"Thirty's right, you went down pretty hard there lad." Brett frowned, "Are you sure you're alright?"
"M'fine." Trent grimaced, "Just a few scrapes and a painful ankle."
"Why were you running?" Jason frowned.
"Drunken competitions." Brett clarified, "200 meter sprint. Young bastard had a good set of yards on me when he went down like a marionette with its strings cut."
"Of course I won…" Thirty almost gloated.
"Only because Trent got taken out by a pothole." Brett scoffed, "And because I stopped to see if he was alright, like you didn't."
"Still won."
Trent rolled his eyes in silence to Thirty's claim.
"You need some ice on that?" Metal narrowed his eyes a little and nodded towards the ankle.
Trent shrugged.
"I'll fix some ice." Metal decided and got up to do something about it. Of course there had to be some ice at a bar, and a plastic bag or something.
A couple of minutes later he handed Trent a ziplock bag filled with ice. "You should probably try to keep that ankle up for a while as well. I heard with Betty if she had some ace-wrap or something. She didn't have anything here in the front, said she'd take a look in the back once she got a chance."
"Thanks." Trent nodded.
Metal sat down once again and looked at Trent's hands wrapped around his ankle.
"Hey, you've skinned the top of your knee…" he sighed, "Can't be that comfortable to have your ankle rested on top of it… You can rest your ankle on my lap if you think that would be more comfortable."
Trent nodded a little and lifted his leg over at Metal's lap. He handed the icebag over to Metal as well, so that he could place it against his ankle.
"Top or side?" Metal asked as we weighed the icebag in his hand.
"Front-outside."
Metal nodded a little and gently placed the bag over Trent's socks and jeans, "What do you think? Break? Sprain? Something else?"
"Just a sprain…" Trent flashed a short grimace, "Gonna admit it's one of the suckiest I've gotten though."
"You gonna let us take a look at it?"
"Not necessary," Trent shook his head, "Besides, I think my socks can be used for chemical warfare right now."
"Toxic socks?" Metal smirked a little.
"I think people would shun me from this bar if anyone attempts taking my shoe off."
"Knowing how bad your socks can get in a day, yeah." Jason chuckled a little.
Metal nodded a little as well, "How is it? Do you feel like going home to rest or do you want to stay here?"
Trent shrugged a little, "It's only going to feel worse the longer I stay here… But, I think I might need a little help actually getting home."
"Yeah, you definitely can't walk from here like you usually do…" Metal smirked.
"I could." Trent frowned, "-If I got a shoulder to lean on."
"Would probably be better if we just got a taxi for you." Jason shot in again, "You were limping a lot. And it's almost three miles to your place."
"Jay's got a point." Metal shrugged, "But you're probably going to cuss those stairs up to your apartment. I can tag along if you want me to, make sure you make it up those stairs okay and find something to wrap around that ankle of yours…"
"You sure?" Trent tilted his head a little.
Metal nodded, "It's on the way to my place anyway, and I probably should get home as well. Mom invited to family dinner tomorrow, don't wanna be too hungover."
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"So, did your mom really invite you to dinner tomorrow?" Trent asked as they stepped onto the floor of his apartment.
"Yeah." Metal nodded a little, "You wanna come? She always makes enough for about an entire team of SEALs. -And she adores you."
Trent nodded a little as they made their way down the hall, "Your mom's the best. -You wanna spend the night?"
"Hey, someone's gotta make sure you keep off that ankle for a while."
Trent sucked a sharp breath and grimaced.
"You good there?"
"My ankle wobbled a bit. Hurts a lot." Trent admitted as they stood still in the middle of the corridor, he was holding his foot off the ground as he waited for the spike of pain to pass.
"Are you sure you shouldn't get a doctor to look at it?"
"Can you try not to worry about me for a minute?" Trent chuckled, "I'll be fine in a week or two…"
Metal rolled his eyes a little, "And you call me stubborn?"
"I do." Trent smirked.
Metal rubbed the hand he had wrapped around Trent's hip up and down a little, "Let's get you inside. And if you don't use crutches tomorrow, my mom will go full on mother hen on you… -And she'll prolly whoop my ass for not convincing you to use crutches, so… Use some crutches, okay?"
"I'd love to see your 5'1" mom whoop you." Trent chuckled, "If only for comic relief. She's tiny compared to you."
"I know." Metal chuckled, "Still got some tricks up her sleeve which should be taught to SEALs."
Trent chuckled.
