Sicktember Day 16: Hot Water Bottle
Word Count: 963
Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl
Rating: K/G
Characters: Captain Buccaneer
Warning:
Summary: Buccaneer comes back from patrol with his newly installed automail hurting him. Fortunately, he has good friends to help him with it.
Notes: I headcanon that Buccaneer got his automail sometime after Olivier and Miles got there. I think it might be interesting to see all of that explored!
Hot Water Bottle
Buccaneer had never been more grateful that patrol was over then he was today. His arm—his new arm, his automail arm—was aching, hurting, and it was difficult to hide the fact that he was in pain. In fact, he knew he wasn't hiding it very well, if the way that his men were treating him meant anything. The cold had seeped into the steel appendage, causing the nerves there to ache with the cold. It made the functioning of it difficult too, and he knew that he was pushing the limit on the possibility of frostbite. But patrol was patrol, and he couldn't change it just because he had an automail arm now.
He led his team in, sent them on to the locker room and showers to warm up. He paused for a moment, letting them get ahead before he leaned on the wall. His flesh hand came up to his shoulder, holding onto the port for a moment. The cold was bad but warming it back up was bad too. He let himself feel the pain for a moment, then took a breath and moved on.
He went to the showers as well, taking the temperature colder than he would have liked it to try to ease his shoulder back into the normal temperatures. It sort of worked, and he felt less pain, but it still wasn't enough, and he couldn't waste all of the hot water on his shoulder.
He got out, dried off, got dressed, but his arm was still hurting him. He made his way to his quarters, knowing there, at least, he could put a hot towel or something on it while he tried to write his report up. He got to his room without incident, although he did favor his arm somewhat, and set out what he would need to start his report. It was better to do that before he started messing with water.
He reached out to grab a towel and a basin of water but had to stop as a sharp pain went through his shoulder. He cursed and sat down. He really didn't want to have to go back to Neil. It wasn't that he had anything against Neil. It was just that he was tired of having to visit him because of some new complication with his automail.
Maybe he would just have to get used to this. Learn to live with it. It was either that, or he had to stop patrolling, stop going out into the mountains, and that cut him to the quick. The mountains were his home. It was where he excelled, what he knew best. He didn't want to have to give that up. He didn't want to have to find another place to be useful.
There was a knock on his door, and he straightened up, trying to hide at least some of the pain he was in. "Come in."
The door opened, and he started to get to his feet as General Armstrong opened it.
"Sit down, Buccaneer," she said, almost sounding cross that he was trying to get up. She had something in her hands. "I saw your team was back from patrol. How's the arm?"
For a moment, he thought about lying to her. But he knew that it wouldn't do any good. She was good at seeing through lies, and besides, he didn't want to damage the trust they had built with each other.
"Honestly? It's hurting a lot right now. The steel and the cold aren't mixing well."
She frowned. "I was afraid of that." She glanced at his fold-out desk, and the writing materials he had sat out. She ignored them, instead turning to him. "Lay down."
"What-?" he started to ask.
"Lay down," she repeated.
Perplexed, he did as she said, and, once he was laying down on his bed, she approached him, unwrapping what she had in her hands. He could see now that it was a hot water bottle, a rather big one, and rather expensive looking. She took it, and placed it on his shoulder, carefully arranging it so that it sat on most of the area where the port met the skin. He let out a sigh as she did it. The heat felt good, and there was something else in there too.
"What's that smell?"
"Lavender. It's useful for relaxing."
"Ah."
He was just relaxing when there was another knock at the door. "Come in," he said.
The door opened, revealing Miles standing there. "Buccaneer, I—Oh, hello, General."
"Miles."
He looked at them for a moment, and then nodded. "I was going to see if you needed me to bring you some hot water and towels, but that doesn't seem necessary now."
"No, but thanks," Buccaneer said. "I'm just gonna let this sit here a minute, and then I'll get to my report. Hopefully it'll be good soon."
Miles looked at him, and then sat down at the small desk, picking up a pen. "Not necessary. Tell me what happened."
Buccaneer blinked at him. "You don't have to—"
"I want to," Miles said, and slid off his glasses.
"I'll put on some tea," Olivier said. Pulling a satchet of tea from a pocket and moving to the small teapot he kept on top of the boiler.
For a moment, Buccaneer looked at them, the two of them crammed in this small room with him, and he smiled. Maybe his shoulder was killing him, and maybe he wasn't sure what the future would bring, but he was sure of a couple of things, and that was his friendship with these two.
He just laughed, and adjusted the hot water bottle a bit. "Alright. We set out at 1500 hours…"