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 Posted: Sun Dec 04, 2016 2:50 pm
End of September 2016
The stay in the hospital was longer than Michael would have liked, but it was also important to make sure that Caspian had as much help as possible in replenishing the blood he’d lost. During that time, Michael refused to leave his side, and relied on Peter and Olga mostly to bring him anything that he needed. Like clothes and food.
He slept on the small couch while he was there, and it was completely uncomfortable, but he also didn’t want to have a guest cot brought in because he didn’t want Caspian getting overwhelmed with how long he was staying there.
He was too distracted with wanting to make sure that Caspian was okay, that he didn’t even think to get him anything that might make him feel better, so when Peter brought in a few bouquets of flowers and balloons while Caspian was asleep, Michael felt incredibly grateful.
Caspian’s room had been upgraded to something much more comfortable, and they made sure to get in contact with his mother and sister to let them know that he decided to go on a spontaneous trip with a friend. An apparently abusive friend, because Michael had no idea how to explain away the bruising on Caspian’s throat, or the stitches and bandages down his arm and thigh and side.
Michael sported a number of stitches as well, but his wounds weren’t nearly as bad as Caspian’s. And that was good, because if Michael had been stuck in another room, forced to pine and worry over Caspian, he didn’t know how long he would last.
Once it came time to finally be discharged from the hospital, Michael did his best to convince Caspian that the bills were none of his concern. In fact, Michael refused to even let Caspian see what the cost was, and paid for everything in full before they had a chance to even sign the release papers.
He was sure by this point Caspian knew Michael and his brothers were well off, financially, what with his sailboat and his house and motorcycle and Jag, but it was something he didn’t particularly like mentioning. None of his immediate family did, from what he was aware.
Olga had parked Michael’s car as far as possible from anyone else, it seemed, so Michael insisted Caspian let him push him out to it in a wheelchair, and then tossed the wheelchair in the back seat (which had apparently been cleaned up by either Olga or Peter or both), and drove it back to the front.
“Take it easy,” Michael frowned as he held the car door open for Caspian, holding out his arm for him to use for support. “Careful of the curb. Do you need to sit longer?” He knew Caspian probably didn’t need him to fuss as he was, but he couldn’t help it. While he didn’t want to, Michael finally brought Caspian home to his townhouse, knowing they would have to get back to their lives eventually. —————— Caspian did not like hospitals.
They made him restless and overly anxious, especially at night, when he felt the most vulnerable, even if Michael was there with him. Getting a decent amount of sleep was next to impossible when nurses were coming in every two hours to check his vitals and change his bandages, and although they did their best to be quiet on their rounds, Caspian still woke, confused, disoriented, and often in a panic, jerking around in his bed until Michael reached out to soothe him.
He was not entirely sure he could have made it without Michael - or, if he was being honest, without Peter and Sedna’s civilian identity of Olga, which Caspian had learned during her first popping in. Peter and Olga’s visits varied on when they arrived but none of them stayed overnight like Michael did, and Caspian had never been so grateful for another human being in his life. The nights were the worst, filled with anxiety and nervousness and even a few panic attacks that he hadn’t been able to control, Michael’s voice in his ears, his hand smoothing sweaty hair away from his face.
The amount of relief that Caspian felt on his release day was insurmountable. He’d been given a pair of crutches he was supposed to use, but of course refused them, and when Michael opened the door for him, Caspian eased out of the car without them, basking momentarily in the sunlight of the outdoors instead of the cloying, sterile indoors of the hospital, constantly smelling of antiseptic and latex gloves.
“I’m all right,” he said, reaching to hold onto Michael’s arm as he pulled himself out of the car. He could walk well enough on his own; the cut to his thigh, while aggravating and painful, hadn’t been as bad as the one to his hand and arm, which were now stitched up and bandaged within an inch of his life. His throat still had bandages as well; the cuts left behind had not been deep, but they’d still warranted enough to need a stitch or two, which Caspian did not appreciate in the slightest for a variety of reasons.
He was also absurdly grateful not to be wearing one of those ridiculously revealing hospital gowns, and Caspian was relatively sure that both Peter and Olga had seen more of him than was ever necessary for two people who were not his boyfriend to see.
“I am so damn glad to be home,” Caspian sighed, and slid his arms around Michael’s waist, more to hold onto him to stay upright than anything else at the time being, limping slowly towards the front door. “I’ve never been so happy to see this front door in my life.”—————— Michael wanted to respect Caspian’s choice to not use his crutches, but it was a stupid choice, so before he let him limp too far, he reached back into the car to grab the crutches that Caspian tried leaving behind. He felt tense, probably from not being able to sleep very well, often up through the night by Caspian’s side to make sure he settled down and was able to go back to sleep. He had dark circles under his eyes, but since he wasn’t the one who was in intensive care for a day and then in the hospital for several more, he didn’t have any right to complain.
“You really should be using these,” Michael continued to frown, holding the crutches in one hand while his other wrapped around Caspian’s shoulders to keep him upright as they climbed the stairs to the front door. “You’re going to hinder your recovery. Just because you’ll heal faster than normal humans doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be careful.”
He was sure Caspian would get annoyed with him eventually, but he couldn’t help it. He took the keys from Caspian so he wouldn’t have to use his injured arm, and unlocked the door for him, pushed it open, and helped him inside.
It was going to take a while to heal completely, but thankfully the senshi magic would cut that time down significantly. Still, it wasn’t the easiest thing to explain to other people.
“Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want me to make you anything to eat? Soup? Or something cold to drink?” he offered, knowing that Caspian’s throat was probably hurting him. “You should probably eat something solid in another hour. You’ll need more medicine by then.” —————— ”I’ll use them later,” said Caspian, which was, surprisingly, true. He just didn’t want to use them now, when he was stumbling awkwardly into his house. “I’ll be okay, Michael, really. I just want to get in the house for now, and then we can figure everything else out later.”
He still smelled like antiseptic, and all of the cheap, sterilized shampoo and conditioner and soaps that the hospital regularized, which was making him feel slightly nauseated. Caspian let out a breath of relief at the sight of the inside of his house, taking in all of the familiar surroundings, simply letting himself bask in the non-hospitalness of it all. The slightly crowded, over decorated rooms, the old fashioned wallpaper in the hallway, the cat clock hanging above the stair railing - all of it was so much better than the faded teal walls of his hospital room.
“A warm or cold drink would be nice, Caspian murmured, feeling achey and sore all over. He glanced sideways at Michael, tightening his grasp on his waist a little. It was making him feel a little bad, being so dependant on Michael for everything, especially when Michael had injuries of his own, Caspian’s eyes flickering towards where he knew there were stitches on Michael’s shoulder.
As always, as though an annoying illness that kept returning, Caspian’s thoughts had shifted and now he was worried that, outside of the emotional constraints of the hospital, it would be different. Saying I love you had felt right, and he knew it was true - but now they were back in the real world, away from the stressful environment of machines and medications.
Well. The former, at least. The latter was not true, because Caspian was on several different medicines, two of which were kinds of pain medication that made him feel drugged up and sluggish, but at least succeeded in keeping the throbbing of his hand at bay.
“...d’you think you could help me upstairs?” he asked, a little tentatively.—————— Michael was sure he had his mouth open to fuss some more, but shut it once Caspian insisted that he was okay. He drew in a breath and let it out slowly, knowing that he was probably being ridiculous and annoying and Caspian was surely going to want some time to adjust and be in his own bed. Michael didn’t blame him at all, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was responsible for making sure Caspian was okay.
“Yeah…” he mumbled softly in agreement about the drink that would surely help Caspian’s aching throat. He tried to remind himself that he didn’t need to be there, as much as he wanted to be. The doctors said that as long as Caspian didn’t over exert himself, he should be able to function just fine on his own.
But what about changing bandages? He would need help with that. And washing, and changing, and what if he couldn’t sleep? What if he needed help getting something to eat or drink?
These were the thoughts that had been keeping Michael awake for hours on end while staying with Caspian in the hospital. There were a few times, he was told, that he completely passed out on the small couch, but those times were few and far between.
“Of course I can,” Michael said, frowning in confusion at Caspian’s hesitant question. Why wouldn’t he help? His first reaction was to carry Caspian, because that would be the fastest and easiest way. Caspian wouldn’t have to put any pressure on his leg.
He set the crutches against the wall for later, double checking to make sure the door was locked securely behind them, and then leaned down to be able to scoop Caspian into his arms, as he was wont to do.
Until the searing pain in his shoulder reminded him that he was also injured.
His knees buckled from the sudden, overwhelming pain, but thankfully he’d wrapped his good arm around Caspian’s back, so when Michael’s knees hit the floor, it was only Caspian’s good leg that slipped out of his grasp. His injured leg was slowly lowered back to the ground.
“S-s**t… I’m sorry,” he gasped, spots in his vision as he rested on the floor with Caspian sitting across his folded legs. “I can… help you walk up… if that’s okay,” he winced, his left arm shaking from the strain he suddenly put on his shoulder. —————— He had automatically started to reach for Michael as Michael had started to reach for him, Caspian sliding arms around Michael’s neck. While he wasn’t exactly used to being carried this way, Michael had done it enough already that it was becoming easier to grow accustomed to, and he was simply going to give into it instead of arguing about how he didn’t need to be carried.
Except they didn’t even make it two steps - or even one step.
Caspian found himself, instead clutching tightly to Michael’s arms, startled and frightened, his breathing coming out too quickly to be normal. Heart racing, he pushed himself back a little from Michael, his eyes moving over his shoulder, hating himself for being selfish enough to think that Michael was in any sort of condition to carry him up the damn stairs he could probably have walked up.
He was not the only one injured. Michael had gotten stitches too, and here Caspian was, simply worrying about himself.
“Are you okay?” he half demanded, pushing to disentangle himself from Michael, his heart in his throat. “******** - Michael - are you okay? Did you tear your stitches? ******** - “
His shaking hands reached for Michael’s shoulder, then drew back, as though too scared to find blood or worse under his shirt, Caspian staring at him with pained eyes.
“I’m so - I’m sorry Michael, I didn’t - “ He swallowed hard, fighting back the welling guilt. “I didn’t mean to forget you were hurt too, are you okay?”
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Posted: Sun Dec 04, 2016 2:54 pm
”I’m okay,” he quickly said when Caspian started to worry about him, lifting his hand to place against his shoulder and chest where he had his bandages, and then tugged a little at the shirt collar so he could check to see if there was any noticeable damage, and shook his head when he found none.
“I’m okay,” he said again, moving his hand from his shoulder to reach up and touch Caspian’s face, brushing his hair back behind his ear. “Sorry, that was my fault. I forgot, too. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” he asked, quickly looking Caspian over to make sure he wasn’t injured either. He thought it was lucky that he didn’t collapse while he was on the stairs, although he could tell that Caspian had been rather frazzled.
“Cas, I’m fine,” he tried saying again, slowly pushing himself up to his feet again, and leaning close to catch Caspian’s mouth with his own as he did so. “I’m fine,” he mumbled against his lips, and then finally pulled back.
His shoulder was still throbbing painfully from the weight he put on it, but it could have been worse. He could have hurt Caspian. His injuries hadn’t been life threatening. Starseed pulling didn’t count.
“Give me your arm, I can help you,” Michael insisted, taking a step towards the stairs and holding out his arm to take hold of Caspian’s. —————— He sucked in a sharp breath of relieved air that Michael hadn’t torn his stitches out, Caspian blinking back the sudden - and embarrassing - rush of tears that had collected at the corners of his eyes. He felt stupidly vulnerable, overly emotional, and he wasn’t sure if it was a side effect of his medication or simply a side effect of what had happened to them both.
“I’m - I’m fine,” he said, which was true at least physically. “Michael, are you sure - “
But the rest of his sentence was cut off as Michael kissed him, Caspian’s eyes fluttering shut, leaning into it because, as always, it warmed him, soothed him, the press of Michael’s mouth, accompanied by his soft reassurances, helping ease some of the anxiety.
He would never get tired of these kisses. Of Michael kissing him.
Caspian reached out his arm for Michael’s, allowing him to help, but trying not to put too much pressure on him, either, Caspian worrying at his lower lip as they slowly, painstakingly began to ascend the stairs. His leg wasn’t out of commission, just sore and throbbing, which made lifting it to take a step a little more inconvenient than it should have been.
“...are you sure you’re okay?” Caspian said softly, as he braced his free hand against the wall. “Did - did I hurt you..?”—————— Michael grit his teeth as he made his way up the narrow stairway, holding onto Caspian as best he could. The pain was there, yes, but he’d completely forgotten about it until just then, so it couldn’t be that bad. It was nothing like Caspian’s.
And of course Caspian was worrying so much that Michael knew he wouldn’t be able to do anything but deny being hurt even if he really was. He wasn’t sure if Caspian could take it, emotionally. He was already on edge, having been through an incredible amount of pain and agony. And then the thought that Michael had died was, well… something Michael could relate to, because Caspian had nearly died in his own arms.
He drew in a breath once he reached the landing, and turned to smile down at Caspian, not because he was trying to hide any pain he felt, but because he was sincerely happy to be there with him. Alive. Not necessarily well, but they were getting better.
“I’m sure, Cas,” he promised, pausing to lean down once more and press another kiss to his lips, mumbling against them. “You didn’t hurt me.”
Michael straightened back up, making sure Caspian moved away from the edge of the stairs and started heading towards his bedroom. He needed to rest, as much as he probably didn’t want to.
“What do you need? Did you want to try and get cleaned up more first? Or change clothes? I was going to make some tea if you’ll be okay on your own for a few minutes,” he said, his smile unable to stay for long, and he frowned a bit worriedly at Caspian. —————— He didn’t want to admit how much he needed these kisses; how much they eased the ache in his soul, how much they reminded him that Michael was still alive and breathing. They’d made it to the top of the stairs and stood in the small landing now, Caspian reaching out to thread his fingers through Michael’s and hold on, even if it was just for a moment, his eyes still feeling red-rimmed.
“Okay,” he mumbled, and took a breath, trying to calm himself. Stupidly, the idea of Michael leaving, even if it was only for a few minutes, made the him anxious, but Caspian shook his head, slowly but surely making his way into his room, leaving the door ajar.
“I’ll get changed, if you want to get tea,” he said, and smiled reassuringly over his shoulder at Michael. “I’ll be okay, really,” he added, taking a little breath. “You should bring up some snacks, maybe, to go along with the tea - like poptarts.”
It was clearly an attempt at getting Michael to relax, as anxious as Caspian was. Moving slowly around his room, Caspian tried to focus on things other than the lack of Michael’s presence - the first time it had been like this in days, and he knew he could do it. He could do things on his own, he wasn’t an invalid, he was a perfectly capable adult.
He managed to sit on the edge of the bed and change without too much trouble, though Caspian didn’t bother wearing anything fancy. Instead, all he did was pull on a clean pair of boxers and the sweatshirt he’d kept of Michael’s, Caspian crawling into bed and curling up on his good side.
It was a relief to be in his own bed, away from the machines and atmosphere of the hospital. Caspian breathed in the familiar scent of his pillows and blankets, burying his face into them and trying to ignore the way he’d started to shake, the way he was clutching a pillow as though afraid he’d disappear at any moment. He closed his eyes against the rising tide of emotions, and found he was having more trouble than he’d thought keeping them at bay, Caspian swallowing hard.
“Michael,” he said, and it came out a whisper, hardly audible to his own ears, let alone downstairs. Caspian raised his voice, his heart pounding erratically.
“Michael!” he called, and tried to keep it from sounding urgent, Caspian hugging his pillow to his chest.—————— It was with some, okay a lot, of hesitance that Michael finally took a step back so he could leave Caspian to get changed, as he’d said. The lighthearted joke about poptarts normally would have made him smile, but in this circumstance all he could manage to do was release a small sigh, although his expression softened a bit.
He didn’t want to leave him, but reminded himself that it was only downstairs and he would eventually have to part ways with Caspian and head back to his own house, knowing Peter was probably home by now. Not that he worried too much about Peter, who could handle himself.
Down in the kitchen, Michael rummaged through the things in Caspian’s kitchen, although by now he knew where most everything was kept since he’d been over so many times already. A couple of teabags were pulled out, and a kettle was filled with water and set on the stove top. He knew Caspian liked his drinks sweet, so a couple spoonfuls of sugar went into Caspian’s cup and none in his own.
Just because it was part of Caspian’s request, Michael pulled out a package of poptarts and set them on the counter until the tea was finished, but just as he was removing the kettle and turning the stove off, he heard Caspian calling his name.
The tea was immediately forgotten, and he took the stairs two at a time to make it up to the landing, and quickly slid to a stop in the doorway of Caspian’s room, his hand on the frame to keep himself from going too far. He stared, out of breath, at Caspian who was curled up on the bed, holding onto his pillow so desperately it seemed more like a lifeline.
“Cas,” he said softly, slightly out of breath from practically running up the stairs. Crossing the room only took a few strides before he was able to sit down on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching out to brush at Caspian’s hair, moving it out of his face so he could see him.
“Are you in pain? You’re going to hurt your arm like that. And your side,” he gently reminded him, his voice dripping with worry and concern, although he was hesitant with touching him in case Caspian really was in pain. —————— He hated this sense of vulnerability that he felt; as though he was standing in a room of nothing but blackness, unable to reach out and find anything or anyone to hold onto. Every time he was left alone, Caspian’s thoughts seemed to get away from him, like a rabbit freed from a cage, skittering in all directions and making him feel anxious, panicked, and stressed. And he hated that he couldn’t help it, that he felt like a child who needed some sort of security blanket to keep himself from falling apart, Caspian clutching tightly to his pillow, because maybe if he held on hard enough, his hands would stop shaking.
Michael was downstairs. He was downstairs, not even out of the house, but just downstairs, and in those few short minutes apart, Caspian had lost his strength again.
It took only a few seconds after he’d called for Michael to appear in the doorway, breathless and worried. Caspian stared up at him with wide, panicked eyes, his heart beating too fast to calm.
But Michael, as always, seemed to know what to do, and came to sit on the edge of the bed, his fingers smoothing gently through Caspian’s hair. It was warm and soothing, a familiar gesture, and he clung to the feel of it, Caspian reaching out his good hand to fumble with the hem of Michael’s shirt and hold on, fingers curling in the fabric.
“Not in pain,” he mumbled, his voice a little muffled by the pillow pressing into the lower half of his face. Caspian let out a long breath, his eyes momentarily fluttering shut, as though Michael was a breath of air into lungs that had not breathed in some time.
And maybe he was, in different ways. Caspian could no longer imagine his life without him, after all.
“I just...needed to see you,” Caspian said, his eyes opening again, and a flush of shame was on his cheeks, spreading over his pale face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you drop everything and run up here.”
Especially since he’d already been insensitive about Michael being injured as well, the flush burning hotter.
“Sorry,” he said again.
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Posted: Sun Dec 04, 2016 2:58 pm
There was a small sigh of relief from Michael when Caspian said that he wasn't in pain, a small amount of tension leaving him now. He thought maybe Caspian's wounds had been reopened or that there were some other kind of complications.
His hand remained in Caspian's hair as he watched him with concern, but also with affection, his heart aching to see him like this, obviously upset about something.
Because he wanted to see Michael.
He could understand the need, because he hasn't wanted to leave Caspian's side in the hospital, and waiting to be allowed to see him after he'd been rushed in for immediate treatment.
Michael drew back after a moment, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. There were a few presses of buttons, and then Michael waited for Caspian's phone to start ringing.
He didn't really like using the video chat feature, if only because, believe it or not, he wasn't really that big into looking at himself, and felt awkward about other people looking at him through video, too. But this was Caspian, and if Caspian needed to see him, then he was hoping to at least make some kind of compromise.
"There..." he mumbled, although his face twisted into something of a grimace as he glanced down at his own phone. "Will this be okay while I finish the tea?”—————— His fingers tightened instinctively on Michael’s shirt, half out of shame and embarrassment, half out of a simple need to keep him close. Caspian wanted to bury his face into the pillow he was clutching, but that would have been even more childish than he already was, and he tried, for the most part, to calm himself.
It was only sort of working, Caspian’s eyes fluttering as Michael stroked his hair. He bit his lip, anxious that he’d been an annoyance; but Michael was reaching into his pocket, and a second later had produced his phone.
Caspian’s, which he’d set on the bedside table after he’d changed, vibrated, and when he groped for it, fingers pressing the answer call button, Michael’s face appeared on the screen, his voice coming out of both the man sitting next to him and the speaker of his phone.
It was, maybe, a silly thing - but Caspian could not have really said how much it meant for him for Michael to go the lengths he was going just to make him comfortable. Now it was just a matter of getting his emotions in check, Caspian taking a deep, shuddering breath.
“Yeah,” he mumbled, thoroughly ashamed of himself. “Yeah, this is good.”—————— Michael leaned down to press a kiss against Caspian’s forehead since his face was mostly covered by the pillow, his hand reaching down for the hood of the sweatshirt to try and playfully tug it up and over Caspian’s head, as if that was meant to be a temporary replacement for Michael being there with him.
“It’ll be okay, I’m right here,” he said as he pulled back, his hand reaching to gently remove Caspian’s hand from his shirt so he could stand once more. “Don’t expect me to hold it in front of my face the whole time,” he warned, already not too fond of the idea, but at least Caspian would know he was there, right? And it wasn’t as though he wouldn’t lift the phone if Caspian needed him.
Phone in hand, Michael took a step away from the bed, standing there for a moment to make sure that Caspian really would be okay, before turning to head back out and head down the stairs.
“Doing okay?” he asked, holding the phone up just enough to be able to see what Caspian was doing, and if he was still watching him, or if he looked like he needed Michael to head back up the stairs. “It’s just boring stuff I’m doing down here, see?” he said, turning the phone to show what was left of the still empty cups of tea. He should have probably poured the water before rushing up the stairs, but he didn’t know what Caspian had needed, and he didn’t want to waste any time if he needed to get there immediately.
Michael looked around for something on the counter for him to prop the phone against, finally setting it against a canister that held cooking utensils, angling it just enough so Caspian could at least see most of him as he worked.
“Good?” he asked, leaning down enough to show his face for a few moments to make sure Caspian was okay, and then went back to fixing the tea.
The water was put back on the stove to reheat a little, and he he went over to the sink to almost obsessively clean the few dishes that were left in the sink to soak from either Caspian or his sister. By the time they’d been dried and put away, the water was ready. The stove was turned off and the water was poured, but it would still take a few minutes to steep.
“Still okay? Do you want milk? Or cream?” he asked, not sure which Caspian had in the fridge. —————— He couldn’t help but smile a little as Michael tugged the hood up, his persisting feeling of anxiousness eased somewhat by the playfulness.
“But I like your face,” he mumbled, eyes slightly teasing as he watched Michael stand. He would have to make do with the phone system for now, reminding himself for what was probably the fourth time in as many minutes that he was a capable adult who was perfectly able to take care of himself and did not need a supervisor.
But he didn’t really want a supervisor, Caspian thought, as Michael slipped out, his fingers absently smoothing over the screen of his phone. He wanted Michael near to him because he’d lost him, even if it was only for a few minutes. Those few minutes that he’d had to fight through while Michael had been lifeless on the ground had been the worst few minutes of Caspian’s life, and he couldn’t stop thinking about them, terrified that he’d turn around and find Michael lying on the ground again.
He tried to focus on the sound of Michael’s voice, the shifting presence of him as he moved about the kitchen. From where Michael had set the phone, Caspian could see the majority of the room, easy to spot as Michael went about his business fixing things up.
“Good,” said Caspian, “I’m okay.”
He wasn’t technically; he was still lying on his side, Caspian shifting to try and alleviate some of the pressure he was putting on his arm, moving to lie mostly on his back.
“There’s milk in the fridge,” he said, “And cream, but I like milk.”
His heart still felt a little erratic, but Caspian breathed slowly, carefully trying to steady himself.
“Don’t forget to get food for you, too.”—————— Michael could understand how Caspian must be feeling. Scared and alone, almost dying, almost losing someone he cared for. Michael knew how that felt, and he knew the sense of panic that Caspian must be feeling as well. He didn’t blame him for it. He only wanted to do whatever he could to help. And if that meant talking to him while he was able to see him, then that was what he would do.
He glanced back over to the phone every minute or so, just to make sure that Caspian still seemed to be doing okay. He looked okay enough, although there was that bit of panic in his eyes that he couldn’t see as well through the camera, but knew it was there.
As requested, he pulled the milk from the fridge, pouring it into both cups and then replacing it back where he got it from. He snorted softly when Caspian suggested him getting food for himself, guessing that he saw the poptart package out on the counter for him.
”What, I can’t just eat you?” he mumbled absently, and then a moment later fumbled the spoon he had in his hand, cursing to himself as it clattered first to the counter and then onto the floor.
Of all the things he could have said, why…?
Maybe Caspian didn’t hear him and thought he’d just dropped the spoon, which he was thankful for the opportunity to duck down below the counter as his face burned red, his palm pressed over his eyes as he grimaced at himself. Thinking it wasn’t as horrible sounding as it was saying it, and Michael took a few moments crouched down to rub at his face.
And then he stood back up, his hands on the counter to frown in distress at the camera of the phone, and the image of Caspian on the other side. “I meant kissing you,” he clarified, and then thinking that maybe Caspian only thought he meant kissing and that was making it even worse and what the hell Michael it wasn’t as though Caspian was just released from the hospital and was obviously going through panic attacks and needing reassurance and not some apparently overly enthusiastic boyfriend who was making inappropriate comments.
The more he thought about the things that he just said and what Caspian might not have even picked up from what he’d said seemed to distress him even more and he eventually pulled away from the counter, mumbling about how he didn’t mean it like that as he got another spoon from the drawer to finish up the tea.—————— For a moment, Caspian thought he’d misheard, his eyes widening, his heart clattering against his chest, lips parting in shock as he stared at Michael through the phone’s screen.
But Michael’s flustered reaction and his attempts at acting normal were evidence enough that he hadn’t misheard, and Caspian slowly shut his mouth, trying to calm the rapid pulse that kept beating against his skin, his fingers trembling slightly. He swallowed hard, fighting back the myriad of emotions that had risen in his chest, his head spinning, and he felt his face grow warmer, suddenly feeling a little overly hot in his sweatshirt.
It was endearing, Michael being flustered. Endearing, wonderful, and so incredibly Michael that, for a few minutes, Caspian was able to focus on something other than the aches and pains of his injuries and the anxiety that plagued him and think about something safe and sweet instead.
Something that made him happy.
The expression on Caspian’s face softened.
“...you can,” he said quietly, as Michael pulled a pair of spoons from the drawer. His voice, in spite of the hoarseness and the very slight tremor, was surprisingly level, even if Caspian felt so far from that at present.
“I love you, Michael,” he said softly. “You can do whatever you want with me.”
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Posted: Sun Dec 04, 2016 3:00 pm
Michael grumbled to himself as he went about fussing over the rest of the tea, stirring a little more vigorously than was really necessary, although the quiet words from Caspian through the phone had him slowing down. He frowned, still flustered and his face red, but stirred the tea normally for the last couple seconds before taking the spoon out to rinse in the sink.
He didn’t say anything for a little while, but since Caspian suggested it, he pulled out a poptart for himself to carry, taking them both and sticking them into his back pocket so he could use his hands.
“You shouldn’t say that,” he scowled grumpily, not looking at the phone as he did so, but staring intently at the cups of tea instead. He didn’t want to get any ideas into his head when he knew he shouldn’t. They were taking things slow and he didn’t want to ruin what they had.
“You should be resting,” he changed the subject, taking hold of his phone to tuck under his arm, and picking up the cups of tea in each hand. He made his way back up the stairs then, slowly so as not to spill the tea anywhere. He paused at the landing, to take a breath and shake his head at himself, and then head down the short hall to Caspian’s room.
He carefully set the cups down on the bedside table, and pulled his phone out from under his arm to end the call. Once the poptarts were out of his back pocket and on the table as well, he sat down on the edge of the bed, twisting sideways so he could lower himself partially over top of Caspian, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
“I love you, too, Cas,” he said softly, not wanting to say it over the phone because Caspian was right upstairs, but also wanting to make sure he knew that it hadn’t been a fluke at the hospital when he told him he loved him. —————— Even grumpy, Caspian couldn’t help but smile a little, the corners of his lips quirking up. He’d liked that side of Michael from the start, and now he found it almost endearing, however serious Michael might have been about the subject of resting.
He was relieved, however, when Michael reappeared in the doorway, Caspian flicking his phone off and pushing it back aside now that the real thing was right in front of him. He stayed where he was on the bed, curled up with his good arm tucked beneath his head, watching as Michael moved around, setting things into place, making sure everything was neat and careful, as Michael always was.
The bed dipped as he sat down beside him, and Caspian had a moment of his heart in his throat, his breath quickening before Michael kissed him gently. His bandaged hand rose to touch Michael’s cheek, Caspian trailing fingers down his jaw as he leaned back, biting his lip.
It somehow felt different, saying it and hearing it here, because they were not in the middle of a hospital, running high on emotions and clustered by doctors and machines. Here, it was soft and gentle, and while it had been entirely so at the hospital, it was more intimate here, when it was just the two of them and no one else to interrupt. The words were alive between them, Caspian letting them ease into his heart and stay there.
“Stay with me,” Caspian said softly. “Tonight. Please? Don’t...don’t go anywhere. Just, um...if you can. Stay with me.”
For tonight, tomorrow, and the rest of my life, if I can have you that long.
Caspian swallowed hard, tracing absently lines on Michael’s leg with his bandaged hand.
“I don’t want to wake up without you, I...I can’t. Not tonight.”—————— Michael still frowned softly as Caspian lifted his hand to brush his fingers along his jaw, but it was mostly endearment in his gaze, and of course a little bit of concern. Caspian had been through enough already; he didn’t need any more stress, and Michael wanted to try and avoid any more if that was possible.
He drew in another breath and let it out slowly, shaking his head at Caspian and his request, thinking that the answer should have been obvious.
“As if I would leave you now,” he said softly, lifting his own hand to brush softly at Caspian’s hair. “I’ll stay as long as you’d like me to,” he promised, recalling the times in the past where he joked about Caspian never getting rid of him, and yet… now… he didn’t want to leave his side. He couldn’t bring himself to joke about something like that. Not right now. Maybe later when they were both recovering, but… not now.
“I’ll be here, Cas. I won’t leave you,” he promised, just as he had in the hospital. He could feel Caspian’s hand on his leg, but he didn’t do anything to discourage him, instead brushing at his hair a little more to try and soothe some of the stress he felt.
“Come on, sit up… your tea will get cold,” he reminded him, pulling his hand away from Caspian’s hair so he could offer it as leverage to sit up if Caspian needed the help. “And look; I brought you poptarts…” —————— The relief showed clearly on Caspian’s face, his entire demeanor relaxing visibly. His eyes fluttered as Michael stroked his hair, the tender gesture so wonderfully appreciated, and he tilted his head into it, closing his eyes momentarily and just letting himself sink into the sweetness of the moment.
Forever, he thought, I’d like you to stay with me forever.
He couldn’t say that out loud, not without possibly scaring Michael off. Caspian traced more lines onto Michael’s leg, and gave a little nod of understanding, relieved beyond belief that he would not have to wake up alone. There was a difference, he knew, in waking up with nurses standing over you and waking up with the person he loved right beside him, and right now, that was what Caspian needed.
It was selfish, maybe. He knew how much Michael put into everything, and he couldn’t pretend it wasn’t selfish, but Caspian needed him too much.
He grasped Michael’s hand and allowed himself to be helped up into a sitting position, Caspian wincing a little. He reached out for the tea and brought it to his lips, taking a small sip and sighing with pleasure, leaning back against the wall behind his bed.
“Thank you,” he said softly, looking over at Michael. “You don’t have to do any of this, and yet you still do, so...thank you.”—————— The fact that Caspian’s relaxed so easily just knowing that Michael was going to be there beside him was… a bit concerning, if Michael was honest. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be there with him, but the fact that Caspian had been so affected by what had happened to them made Michael worry. He didn’t know what else he could do besides be there for him for however long he could.
He helped Caspian sit up, and then reached out to take his own cup of tea to sip at, watching Caspian over the edge of the cup. He hated how he winced in pain, but it could have been so much worse.
“You say that as if you don’t do the same,” Michael pointed out, but his words were soft, and he lowered his eyes and glanced away, understanding how Caspian felt all too well. Of all the things that Caspian has done for him, this was the absolute least he could do in return.
“You’re welcome, Cas,” he said after a few moments, not wanting him to think that he was brushing him off. He wasn’t. He just didn’t want Caspian to think that Michael was the one doing everything when he wasn’t.
He knew it was probably going to be a rough night, just as the nights in the hospital had been, but he didn’t care as long as it meant Caspian was happy and safe.
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