A/N: Written for deinonychus_1's birthday, who requested Becker/Lester with whumped!Becker and hurt/comfort. Not directly related to my L/B series, but doesn't contradict anything in it.
In Writing
"That doesn't look right," Connor said.
"I think it's dislocated, mate," Matt added.
Becker cradled his arm to his chest and glared. "I certainly don't need anyone to tell me that, it's my fucking arm! I can feel it's dislocated!"
"There is no need to curse at us," Emily said, her voice taking on that mildly disapproving tone it often did. "None of us made you dive after the creature like that."
Abby stepped towards Becker, her hand hovering in the air like she was undecided as to whether she should touch him or not. "Looks like it hurts."
Becker raised his eyes skyward. "Yes. Yes, it does. Will one of you just pop it back in?"
Connor immediately took a step back while Matt said, "That's really not a good idea."
"You should have a professional do that," Abby agreed.
"Christ, please? It feels so much better afterwards." Becker would know, unfortunately.
"Not if we do it wrong," Matt pointed out.
"You at least should be able to do it no problem, Matt. I'm not going to believe you if you say no one ever dislocated shoulders in the future."
Matt only shook his head. "We've got perfectly good medics paid for this sort of thing. I'm not doing it if I don't have to. And I don't have to."
"I would do it for you!"
Emily frowned. "I think he means that as a show of friendship, strangely enough."
Becker sighed and began trudging back to the SUVs. "I hate you all," he muttered. "Terrible friends." See if he ever offered to pop their joints back into place now.
"Sometimes I think you're the only decent person in this whole place," Becker said as Jess stirred half a teaspoon of sugar into the tea she'd made for him.
Jess handed him the cup. "I hope you'll keep that in mind when it comes time to buy me a birthday gift."
"Perhaps you could drop me a few hints."
"I'll make you a list," she promised and stepped around him to go out the door.
A low murmur of voices came from the corridor, after which Lester walked inside the break room.
Becker set down his tea and used his good hand to help himself up onto the counter. "I'm sorry, you seem familiar but I can't quite place you. Surely you can't be my boyfriend, only finally come to see me after my grievous injury."
Lester rolled his eyes. "Don't be so dramatic."
"It's all right, don't mind me. Perhaps the painkillers have addled my senses."
"You're certainly addled, though it seems unfair to blame the painkillers." Lester drew closer until he was stopped just in front of Becker's legs. "I do wish you'd make up your mind; you complain if I fuss and you complain if I don't. It's all terribly confusing."
Becker sipped his tea. "Well, a little bit of fussing would be fine, I think."
Lester's mouth twitched and he moved forward again, Becker shifting his legs so Lester could settle in between them. "Perhaps we could put something in writing. 'When Becker hurts himself, James may prepare Becker's tea and bring it to him but he may not help with everyday tasks unless asked.' Like that?"
"There should be something about cuddling. I need extra cuddling when I'm suffering."
"You must be suffering constantly, then."
"I'm more fragile than I look."
Lester dropped his eyes, resting his hands on Becker's thighs and rubbing his thumbs lightly over the material of Becker's trousers. "You are all right, though."
"Yes, James." For all the hard time Becker was giving Lester, in actuality he could easily imagine the look of concern Lester must have had when Jess told him what had happened. Lester always worried, no matter how trivial the injury, and no matter how much he pretended not to.
"I think you should go home early."
"I'm not-"
Lester raised his gaze again, first to Becker's arm in the sling he'd been forced to wear and then to Becker's face. He didn't say anything but he didn't really need to. It was all in his eyes.
Becker quieted, then simply nodded. "Okay. I'll go home."
Lester put his hands around Becker's waist as Becker dropped down off the counter, like he was worried Becker couldn't manage it. Ridiculous, of course, but appreciated for what it signified. Becker didn't move back and used the opportunity to steal a kiss, deeper and longer than he would have ordinarily when they were at work, but, hell. He was injured, he figured he was owed.
"I think you should come home with me," Becker said, brushing his mouth lightly against Lester's once more.
"Should I?"
"Yes. I might need some assistance undressing," Becker informed Lester quite seriously. He was in a sling, after all. He had been instructed to take it easy. Far be it for Becker to disobey medical instructions.
Lester chuckled. "Yes, I expect you might."
"I think we can put that in our agreement. 'James may always help Becker out of his clothes.' That should be item number one."
"Sounds entirely sensible to me."
"I thought you would agree," Becker said and set his cup in the sink before leading the way through the door.
Lester was ready to leave in so short a time that Becker suspected he had been planning on leaving with Becker all along, which prompted Becker to feel a silly sort of fondness. The girls all hugged him before he left, which was kind of embarrassing as it wasn't like he'd been in danger of dying or anything, but his protests went ignored, as always.
Once they arrived home, Becker got his boots off one-handed and headed into the bedroom, plopping down on the bed and waiting while Lester changed out of his suit. Of course Becker could have managed to change on his own, it was only that it would be more fun if Lester did it. Besides, there wasn't anything wrong with a small bit of fussing when he wasn't feeling himself, was there?
He got back to his feet when Lester had stripped down to shirt and boxers and waited expectantly.
Lester quirked a smile at him and started first on Becker's combat trousers, then moved quite carefully to remove the sling and get Becker's T-shirt off over his head. Lester could be incredibly gentle when he wanted to be. He pressed a kiss to the front of Becker's shoulder, a gesture reminiscent of kissing a wound better.
"Don't stop there," Becker said.
"Get on the bed," was Lester's response.
Becker certainly didn't need to be told twice. He sat his arse down again and scooted until he was in the middle of the bed with his head on the pillows. Lester settled in the v of Becker's legs, holding his weight up on his forearms while Becker put his hands on Lester's waist, sliding them under his shirt to touch skin. He wanted to kiss Lester's mouth, his throat, the spot below his ear that made him gasp.
But Lester remained frustratingly just out of reach, saying only, "Do you ever stop thinking about your cock?"
"Sometimes I think about guns."
Lester laughed. He leaned more heavily onto one arm and reached the other into Becker's hair, brushing a few strands aside. "Is this from today, too?"
"Yeah. It's not anything, though. Just a bump." Becker hissed when Lester's fingers grazed the sensitive spot.
"Stay there," Lester said and pushed himself up.
He was halfway to the door before Becker realised what was happening. "Hey, I thought you were supposed to be making me feel better? I can't see how that's supposed to happen with me here and you leaving." Becker really couldn't fathom any scenario that would improve his day more than both of them in the bed.
"You're supposed to put ice on that, aren't you?"
"Well, yes, but we can do it after-"
"We can do it now," Lester insisted in a tone that brooked no argument. "I'll bring you something to eat as well."
"You're going to let me eat in bed?" Becker was sure he must look absolutely gob-smacked, as that was how he felt.
"I hope you won't make me regret it."
"I won't, darling. Can you bring me a beer while you're at it?"
Lester raised an eyebrow.
Becker tried to look pathetic.
Lester sighed. "Yes, fine, all right. Any more requests before I change my mind?"
"Maybe just an addendum to our written agreement. 'James may always bring Becker food in bed.'"
"I wouldn't push my luck if I were you," Lester said, but his stern look wasn't fooling anyone.
"Would it help if I told you that you're the best boyfriend ever? I can probably buy you a mug that says that," Becker said, grinning.
"I think I deserve far more than a mug for putting up with you," Lester muttered as he went into the corridor.
"I love you," Becker called after him, wriggling underneath the duvet and already contemplating what else he could get away with.
Lester's reply drifted back. "You'd bloody well better."
End