20. Virgil and John – Rehabilitation

"Virgil, is this really necessary?"

A growl. Then:

"Lie down before I make you."

A pause. Then:

"Okay."

Lying down on the massage table, John sighed in defeat. Virgil draped the crisp towel over his brother's nearly nude form, before his footsteps moved away. John shifted his face in the padded oval and growled lightly.

"I really don't think –"

"I know," Virgil said, padding back over. "You really don't think. Why did you think that floating around for a few minutes after being subjected to 25Gs would fix everything? Jay, you were nearly crushed."

John huffed out a breath.

"I was not nearly crushed," he said, his scowl visible to nothing but the tiled floor. "My suit lets me withstand –"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Virgil said. "Smell this." He placed a bottle of some kind of scent underneath John's nose. Then he switched it out for a second one. "Which?"

"The second one," John said. "It's always the second one. Why do you even ask me?"

"Because I'm a nice guy," Virgil said, though the words were said through gritted teeth. "Even when certain people frustrate the hell out of me with their pig-headedness."

John grunted.

"Rude," he said.

There was a light sound as Virgil tipped some of the scented oil from the bottle into the palm of one hand. It was followed by the soft rasping of his calloused hands rubbing together. Then, part of John's towel covering was lifted and his brother went to work.

In spite of himself, in spite of how much he wanted to remain against the treatment, John relaxed into the deep pressure of the massage.

Within five minutes, he was out cold.

~oOo~

Virgil Tracy had magic hands. This was known to all. At college, he'd taken night classes in Swedish massage, simply because he could. He always needed to do something with his hands, whether it was holding a spanner or sweeping paint across a canvas.

And as they had grown as International Rescue, as his brothers insisted on getting themselves broken, lost, sliced and crushed – well, Virgil was glad of his skills.

Pulling the towel back up over his sleeping brother and then covering him with a thick blanket, Virgil folded his arms and nodded.

Yes, he was tired. Yes, he had a thousand other things to do. But this was important. His brothers were important – and he always made time for a bit of rehabilitation.