Nathan and Hank, Wednesday morning
Jan. 19th, 2005 09:28 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsNathan stumbles into medlab after another bad Danger Room scenario, on top of a serious lack of sleep. Hank decides that a training break is required. Nathan does not take the news well.
Yet again, taking off the leathers after the Danger Room session had been... very much not an option. Gritting his teeth, Nathan forced himself to walk properly, not hunched over. Everything was working, he told himself fiercely, so nothing was broken. He would stop in for the medical evaluation, damn the formality, and then go and... do something else. Classes. Get his mind off the evil sadists currently making his life miserable, and...
The floor moved as he stepped into medlab - or at least, that was what it felt like. It stopped moving once he was sitting down on it, though. That was nice of it.
"Nathan?" Hank hurried over and picked him up carefully. Not that Nathan's weight was enough to bother him, but he wasn't sure where the sore spots were. "What happened? Have you hit your head again?" He sat the older man carefully on one of the beds. "If you have, Moira is going to be most displeased..."
"Danger Room..." Nathan muttered feebly, sagging as soon as Hank put him down. "Evil... insane people. Crossfire and the floor wouldn't stay put."
"Have you been eating chocolate again?" Hank asked a little suspiciously, feeling Nathan's head gently for obvious sore spots. "Or simply working yourself to exhaustion? Either way, you are due a scolding." No bumps or squashy places, thank God. "Anyway, let's get you undressed, so I can see what you've been doing to yourself."
"No scolding," Nathan protested, something very close to a piteous look in his weary gray eyes as Hank helped him off with the jacket. "I'm just... trying to do what I'm told, damn it. No scolding me..."
Hank pried Nathan out of uniform and body armour with the ease of long practice, making tutting noises when he saw the bruises mottling almost every inch of his upper body. "Very well," he said gently, since if Nathan was turning pitiful then he was obviously too overtired even to be defensive. "No scolding. But no more Danger Room for you for a while, either. You're off *all* physical training for the next three days. If you keep going like this you're going to do yourself yet another injury."
Nathan's eyes widened in something close to horror, and for a minute he couldn't breathe (and not just because his ribs hurt that badly). "No, I'm fine," he said in agitation, pulling away from Hank. "I wasn't being careful enough, I know that, but I'll do better." The words spilled out over themselves in an almost panicky-sounding flood, and the part of him that was exhausted unto the point of stupidity was yelling at him to suck it up before they decided he wasn't reliable. Because everyone knew what happened to the unreliable, and he wasn't going there, not again...
Hank patted his back gently. "You're doing fine," he said soothingly, reaching for the sticky brown arnica-ointment that was still the best treatment he knew for bruises. Nathan would be sticky and interesting-smelling for a while, but the bruises would heal quicker. "But this much bruising will make you stiffen up, you know that. You need to give yourself time to heal before you try again." He waved a stern finger under Nathan's nose. "And you are not to do this to yourself again, do you understand me? You should never train to the point of exhaustion, and certainly not to this extent."
"I didn't make up the schedule," Nathan muttered, fighting with his emotions. "Talk to the insane people with the hoops." He sounded like a petulant, over-tired five year-old.
"I will talk to the insane people with the hoops. I am still, however, taking you off all training for the next three days. You're in no fit condition to continue." He went to work on smearing the sticky ointment gently over the bruises... which essentially meant covering Nathan's entire upper body. And then those trousers were coming off so he could see the rest of the damage.
"Stupid, impossible, insane scenarios," Nathan said miserably, flinching every time Hank touched him. "I fall on my face and get shooed off here, and it doesn't make any sense!" He breathed too deeply and winced, half-doubling over. "'Don't kill the drones, Nathan, or you fail'. 'One target at a time, Nathan, or you fail.' 'Catch the bullets, don't shield, or you fail.'"
"I'm sure they're trying to help," Hank said, shielding firmly, his huge hands very gentle as he worked his way around Nathan's chest to his back. "And you're tired and overstrained, which isn't helping you at all." And the approach of the Columbia anniversary... That had to be putting strain on him as well, very understandably so. And that thought wasn't shielded nearly so carefully.
"I can't sleep. Don't dare turn on the news, because that's all they're talking about... and the kids are all thinking about it..." Nathan bit back the rest of what he'd been about to say, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm fine," he muttered dimly. "I've got to... class, and a session with Charles..."
"You're going to have a nap, is what you're going to do," Hank said firmly. "I can give you something to keep you from dreaming, if you need it... and down here, you shouldn't pick up so many random thoughts." He grinned a little. "And besides, I'm going to take your trousers away. Up you get..."
"Big... bullying... blue person," Nathan muttered groggily as Hank urged him up. Sleep sounded so nice, though. Nice enough that his eyes were closing just at the thought of it. "Pants-stealing blue person..."
"I'm known for it. It's the only way to keep Scott in bed, sometimes," Hank said cheerfully. He removed Nathan's boots and pants, but kindly left him his underwear. More bruising... a lot of it, although the hits seemed to have been concentrated on his torso. "Now, back up on the bed, and I'll put ointment on these bruises... arnica won't help the pain, but it'll speed up healing, which I figured was more of a priority for you... and then you're going to have a nice long nap."
"Don't need a nap," Nathan muttered crankily as Hank got him back on the bed. "Don't want to nap..." He proceeded to prove that he was in fact lying through his teeth, roughly two seconds after he was in a vertical position again.
Hank chuckled, finishing anointing the bruises, then pulled sheet and blanket up over him. At least, while Nathan's sole concession to modesty was his underwear, he was slightly less likely to make a run for it as soon as Hank's back was turned.
Yet again, taking off the leathers after the Danger Room session had been... very much not an option. Gritting his teeth, Nathan forced himself to walk properly, not hunched over. Everything was working, he told himself fiercely, so nothing was broken. He would stop in for the medical evaluation, damn the formality, and then go and... do something else. Classes. Get his mind off the evil sadists currently making his life miserable, and...
The floor moved as he stepped into medlab - or at least, that was what it felt like. It stopped moving once he was sitting down on it, though. That was nice of it.
"Nathan?" Hank hurried over and picked him up carefully. Not that Nathan's weight was enough to bother him, but he wasn't sure where the sore spots were. "What happened? Have you hit your head again?" He sat the older man carefully on one of the beds. "If you have, Moira is going to be most displeased..."
"Danger Room..." Nathan muttered feebly, sagging as soon as Hank put him down. "Evil... insane people. Crossfire and the floor wouldn't stay put."
"Have you been eating chocolate again?" Hank asked a little suspiciously, feeling Nathan's head gently for obvious sore spots. "Or simply working yourself to exhaustion? Either way, you are due a scolding." No bumps or squashy places, thank God. "Anyway, let's get you undressed, so I can see what you've been doing to yourself."
"No scolding," Nathan protested, something very close to a piteous look in his weary gray eyes as Hank helped him off with the jacket. "I'm just... trying to do what I'm told, damn it. No scolding me..."
Hank pried Nathan out of uniform and body armour with the ease of long practice, making tutting noises when he saw the bruises mottling almost every inch of his upper body. "Very well," he said gently, since if Nathan was turning pitiful then he was obviously too overtired even to be defensive. "No scolding. But no more Danger Room for you for a while, either. You're off *all* physical training for the next three days. If you keep going like this you're going to do yourself yet another injury."
Nathan's eyes widened in something close to horror, and for a minute he couldn't breathe (and not just because his ribs hurt that badly). "No, I'm fine," he said in agitation, pulling away from Hank. "I wasn't being careful enough, I know that, but I'll do better." The words spilled out over themselves in an almost panicky-sounding flood, and the part of him that was exhausted unto the point of stupidity was yelling at him to suck it up before they decided he wasn't reliable. Because everyone knew what happened to the unreliable, and he wasn't going there, not again...
Hank patted his back gently. "You're doing fine," he said soothingly, reaching for the sticky brown arnica-ointment that was still the best treatment he knew for bruises. Nathan would be sticky and interesting-smelling for a while, but the bruises would heal quicker. "But this much bruising will make you stiffen up, you know that. You need to give yourself time to heal before you try again." He waved a stern finger under Nathan's nose. "And you are not to do this to yourself again, do you understand me? You should never train to the point of exhaustion, and certainly not to this extent."
"I didn't make up the schedule," Nathan muttered, fighting with his emotions. "Talk to the insane people with the hoops." He sounded like a petulant, over-tired five year-old.
"I will talk to the insane people with the hoops. I am still, however, taking you off all training for the next three days. You're in no fit condition to continue." He went to work on smearing the sticky ointment gently over the bruises... which essentially meant covering Nathan's entire upper body. And then those trousers were coming off so he could see the rest of the damage.
"Stupid, impossible, insane scenarios," Nathan said miserably, flinching every time Hank touched him. "I fall on my face and get shooed off here, and it doesn't make any sense!" He breathed too deeply and winced, half-doubling over. "'Don't kill the drones, Nathan, or you fail'. 'One target at a time, Nathan, or you fail.' 'Catch the bullets, don't shield, or you fail.'"
"I'm sure they're trying to help," Hank said, shielding firmly, his huge hands very gentle as he worked his way around Nathan's chest to his back. "And you're tired and overstrained, which isn't helping you at all." And the approach of the Columbia anniversary... That had to be putting strain on him as well, very understandably so. And that thought wasn't shielded nearly so carefully.
"I can't sleep. Don't dare turn on the news, because that's all they're talking about... and the kids are all thinking about it..." Nathan bit back the rest of what he'd been about to say, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm fine," he muttered dimly. "I've got to... class, and a session with Charles..."
"You're going to have a nap, is what you're going to do," Hank said firmly. "I can give you something to keep you from dreaming, if you need it... and down here, you shouldn't pick up so many random thoughts." He grinned a little. "And besides, I'm going to take your trousers away. Up you get..."
"Big... bullying... blue person," Nathan muttered groggily as Hank urged him up. Sleep sounded so nice, though. Nice enough that his eyes were closing just at the thought of it. "Pants-stealing blue person..."
"I'm known for it. It's the only way to keep Scott in bed, sometimes," Hank said cheerfully. He removed Nathan's boots and pants, but kindly left him his underwear. More bruising... a lot of it, although the hits seemed to have been concentrated on his torso. "Now, back up on the bed, and I'll put ointment on these bruises... arnica won't help the pain, but it'll speed up healing, which I figured was more of a priority for you... and then you're going to have a nice long nap."
"Don't need a nap," Nathan muttered crankily as Hank got him back on the bed. "Don't want to nap..." He proceeded to prove that he was in fact lying through his teeth, roughly two seconds after he was in a vertical position again.
Hank chuckled, finishing anointing the bruises, then pulled sheet and blanket up over him. At least, while Nathan's sole concession to modesty was his underwear, he was slightly less likely to make a run for it as soon as Hank's back was turned.
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