Phillip Wolfe | Phobos (inclinedfear) wrote in paxletalelogs, @ 2011-09-23 07:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | eris, phobos |
I’m Telling Myself It’s Not A Good Idea
Who: Rylee and Charlie
What: Rylee gets his wisdom teeth out and Charlie plays nurse.
Where: Newport Beach Oral Surgery Center followed by Rylee’s apartment
When: Today, 9AM and on.
Warnings: Typical gross stuff pertaining to oral surgery.
At first, Rylee didn’t know where he was. He realized he was angry that he was being woken up because he felt relatively comfortable, but then he took notice of what was around him and that he certainly didn’t know where he was. After a few moments Rylee gathered his thoughts and recalled exactly what had happened. As promised, Charlie had gone with him to the oral surgeon. She had gone so far as to giving Rylee a brief hug, immediately relaxing him before he walked back into the area that he was to have his surgery done.
The dentist told him that Charlie had been called back to collect him and they could go home. He had a stack of instructions of post-surgery care and fancy little pills for Rylee to take to help with the possible swelling and nausea that could follow. But Rylee didn’t really care at the moment. His head was fuzzy and his mouth was stuffed with cotton. He could taste blood in his mouth and feel it trickling down his throat. What was worse, his jaw hurt like hell, it felt like he had been in a fight and he could barely see straight.
By the time Charlie appeared in the doorway, Rylee had already spit out the blood soaked cotton balls and had the gaping holes in the back of his jaw stuffed again. He also was deep into the waves of his first dosage of pain killers and a more sober voice in his head reasoned that was why Charlie looked like a heaven sent being when she walked in the door. Immediately, he reached a hand towards her and called her name, despite his mouth being full of the cotton balls.
“Big baby,” she muttered half-affectionately, walking immediately over to where he was sitting and grabbing his hand. For a moment the nurse explained what the paperwork was for and how often he should take the pills. The cotton was to be left in for a few hours more, but she was good to take her boyfriend home.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” she snapped quickly, hoping Rylee was too out of it to hear that. Considering all of their recent problems, this was just another nail in the coffin that she didn’t want him to deal with. Instead, she pulled the blond to his feet, wrapped his arm around her shoulder with her own around his waist and began to walk toward the front door of the office and the parking lot. “Jus’ one step at a time, Ry, yah got it,” she said gently, eventually steering him to the passenger seat. It took some doing, but with her hand on the top of his head she got him into the car and then they were on their way to the apartment building.
Along the drive Rylee remained relatively silent. He noticed that Charlie was driving his car far too fast and the poor beat up vehicle was struggling to go the speed she pushed it to. But Rylee didn’t really care. His jaw was back to hurting but the pills made him sluggish. He reached for Charlie along the drive, grabbing for her hand and squeezing it tightly before he drifted into a brief and drugged sleep. But soon enough they were at the apartment complex and with Charlie’s help they made it to the outside of the building.
Rylee looked up at the apartment complex and cursed that he lived on the seventh floor. Hopefully the elevator wouldn’t give them any issues. But then he began to feel blood leaking into the back of his throat again and he lowered his face and followed Charlie’s lead.
“So happy I don’t hafta do this ever again,” Rylee mumbled as they made their way to his apartment. He clutched onto Charlie and simply wanted to sleep and feel some relief. “Fuckin’ hurts.”
She wouldn’t admit it, but it was a bit of a struggle getting him from the car and into the building, then into the elevator. But Charlie was happy she hadn’t let anyone else do this - once they were in the elevator itself, she slapped the seventh floor button, wondering if it wouldn’t have just been simpler to let him stay in her apartment. She squashed the idea, knowing he’d probably be more comfortable in his own bed. Using the wall to lean him against, she reached up to brush his hair back and slide a hand down his face protectively.
“Almost there, yah big baby. Yah can have another painkiller when yer in bed, and then yah can just pass out, all right?” Keeping a tight grip around his middle, she watched the numbers above the doorway flash by. The one time she wanted it to be quick, it seemed slower than ever.
Rylee gave a nod, feeling sick enough that he didn’t even enjoy brush of Charlie’s hand over his hair. He appreciated it and knew he would have liked it in any other circumstance, but at that moment he only wanted his bed. “Thank you, Charlie,” He said softly as the elevator grew still and the doors swished open. “Thank you for doin’ this.”
He brought a hand to his lips, wiping around his mouth nervously because the skin was still numb and he couldn’t tell if he was drooling. Even sickly, he still didn’t want to be slob-like. He felt a small weight added to his jaw and cheeks but he wasn’t swollen... yet.
Taking an unsteady step out of the elevator and into the hall he focused on his door frame. “When’d the dentist say this would stop bleedin’?”
“Another hour or so - yah’ll be passed out cold by then, I think,” she replied, hauling both herself and him forward and down the hall. It was another moment where she was glad he’d given her a key; she fumbled with it into the lock, and then spread the door wide to get him in first, sideways. Shuffling down the hall proved to be another obstacle, but then she was carefully (or at least attempting to be careful) sitting him down on the bed. “Do yah want pajamas or...?”
Red eyed, Rylee looked up at Charlie from his bed and stared at her for a moment before he realized she had asked him a question. He tried to smile but only managed to get one corner of his mouth to curl up. “My pajama pants,” He mumbled, the words coming out muffled and squished together. “They’re there.” He pointed to his dresser where he had laid out flannel pajama pants. He would have gotten up and gotten them himself but he knew Charlie would force him back down. She was there to help him after all.
Instead, he got to his feet and began to take his jeans off. There was a moment where he grew nervous but even that was drowned out by the drugs he was taking. She had seen him in his boxers before and with a wobble as he stood he knew it was best that she didn’t leave. He dropped his pants to the floor and moved to his shirt, half pulling it off before he thought better of it and pulled it back down over his body.
Charlie turned around to grab the mentioned pajama pants, and back around to see Rylee in a state of undress; but she managed to bite her tongue on any number of remarks that would make her feel less self-conscious, and instead moved forward to push him back to sitting on the bed.
“Lift yer arms,” she ordered him quietly, and pulled his shirt over his head slowly and as gently as she could manage, so there was no additional pain to his jaw. Tossing the shirt behind her in what she thought was the general direction of the hamper, she offered him the pajama bottoms she’d been holding under one arm. “Now do yah need help with these or do yah think yah can manage?” She had to grin at that, reasoning that he’d be fine on his own.
Rylee tried to glare at Charlie but it was half hearted. She had already helped him so much. Snatching the pajama pants from her he stood and slipped them on. Standing in his pajama bottoms, shirtless and with sun kissed skin, he would have looked almost normal if it wasn’t for the bleary look to his eyes and developing swelling of his jaw.
Silently he turned to his bed and climbed into it then paused, reaching for Charlie’s hand and pulling her towards the bed, not realizing that he had done this before while drunk. “What should I do?” He mumbled and turned his large blue eyes to his friend. “What’d the dentist say I should do?” He already was beginning to dislike how helpless he felt.
“Jus’ close yer eyes and go tah sleep, dummy. Or do yah want another pain pill?” This time she went without fuss, sitting on the edge of the bed near him. Letting one hand be tangled in his, her other went to sweep hair back from his forehead again. “That’s all yah really got, bud, sleep or just sit there bleary eyed. Yah want somethin’ to drink?”
Rylee closed his eyes and contently leaned into Charlie. Her hand was cool on his head and it felt good. “A pill and somethin’ to drink,” Rylee replied, his words growing harder to say. “Maybe I’ll eat somethin’ after I sleep a little.” He snuggled down into his blankets and rested his head upon his pillows, still, he didn’t let go of Charlie’s hand despite his agreeing to something to drink. Charlie tried to loosen her hand from his grip, gently. Finally she just yanked, then set his hand back down by his side. Giving his hair one more pat, she got up and went to the kitchen, procuring a cup of water and his pain medication.
“All right, sleepy, open up,” she said as she took a seat on the bed, holding out his pill and the glass of water.
Rylee blinked and focused on Charlie. He attempted to sit up but only moved too quickly. Settling back against the pillows he reached into his mouth and pulled out the cotton balls. They weren’t as disgusting as they had been at the dentist, but they still looked awful. He looked around, unsure of what to do with the cotton balls and not wanting to give them to Charlie, then only held them in his hand as he accepted the pill and glass of water.
“Am I swollen?” Rylee mumbled and looked at Charlie again before settling his head back into the pillows. He reached for her hand and held it close to his chest as his eyelids opened and closed, growing heavier as his body still worked out the anesthesia.
“It’s not that bad, baby,” she answered softly, taking the cotton balls from him and putting them in the used cup for now. Maintaining a grip on his hand, she petted his hair back from his head once more, watching as he slowly drifted off to sleep.
Charlie remained seated, partly because Rylee had such a death grip on her hand, and partly because she wanted to reassure herself that he was indeed all right. His remarks earlier in the week - it’s all right, you just don’t want me like that - flashed through her mind; of course a friend would do this, take him to a doctor’s appointment, make sure he got home OK. Make sure he was comfortable. But would a friend hold his hand, stroke his forehead and make sure he fell asleep without a problem? Charlie frowned, unsure where the line at friend stopped and turned into something else. Wasn’t it enough to just be what they were without assuming more?
Finally she realized she had to pee, and slowly (and somewhat unhappily) withdrew her hand from his, leaving him gently breathing on his bed. After making sure he was tucked in reasonably, she made a quick but quiet dash for the bathroom. From there she took the cotton ball filled glass to the kitchen, tossing the bloody remains in the garbage and putting the cup itself in the sink - she puttered for a few minutes, discovering a bag of chips and helping herself to them.
Crunching one between her teeth, she wandered into his extra room, the one he was now calling his ‘study’. The thought made her laugh (but not out loud, no need to wake him), picturing Rylee as some kind of professor or teacher with glasses and suspenders. Undoubtedly he would enjoy such work, and seeing him happy always made her happy. She pushed that thought away, taking a seat in the office chair placed before the hardwood desk.
A computer set up, lots of drawers - what the hell did he need all this space for? Curiosity won out, and she started pulling them open one by one, leaving the chip bag on the desktop, forgotten for the moment. There were the usual accents to any office space: a shitton of pens in various colors, a stapler, paper, lots and lots of paper; and as she dug down further, there were boxes of photos. As though he didn’t have enough pictures already hanging around the apartment, he had even more stuffed into shoe boxes in the last two drawers of his desk.
Feeling completely at home and perfectly welcome to rooting around in Rylee’s things, she pulled one out and was pleasantly rewarded with pictures of them as skinny kids, both in threadbare bathing suits and playing in the sprinklers of the Ekholm’s yard. She absently found herself grinning, the memories coming fast and clear as she pulled each image from its place in the box.
Once she’d perused through the first container, she helped herself to another, expecting more of the same. Maybe baby pictures of Rylee, or family photos of Mr. and Mrs. Ekholm with their son. Instead, she found something very, very different - frankly, the last thing she expected to see. The first picture was of Rylee and...some blond. She was hanging onto his arm like it was a tire swing, and both had huge, shit-eating grins on their faces. Like being around one another was the most potent drug in the world.
Charlie’s own face had gone extremely blank, the shock and confusion killing any other emotion. She continued to flip through the photos: hugs, hand holding, always touching one another. And then there were the piles upon piles of them kissing one another, light pecks on cheeks, on the mouth, ones that showed that there was a depth to their relationship, hinting that more probably went on behind closed doors.
There were so many of the photos... Charlie put that box down on the ground, grabbing another - more - and then a third box - even more. Her heart was dropping into her stomach. Why did she give such a fuck? The question was overridden by one that Charlie’s mind found much more pertinent: why had he hidden this from her?
She’d known about other girlfriends, but they’d always just been flings, short affairs. The one constant in his life, aside from his family, had always been her. Maybe she’d been living under the assumption that that would always be the case. The fact that she’d pushed him away for four years was forgotten and irrelevant to the subject at hand; the accompanying points that she had also hidden information from him were conveniently forgotten.
The thought that...perhaps she’d been replaced...made her throat clench, her eyes sting. Who was she? Did they still talk? Were they dating, and everything Rylee had said about wanting her had just been some kind of joke? She hadn’t seen him in four years - maybe he had changed, in some way.
Her immediate response was to throw the pictures out, every last one, but instead, with trembling hands, she put everything back as she’d found it. Everything back in those little drawers - so innocuous at first, and now she wished she hadn’t had the curiosity at all.
The drugs had worn off enough that Rylee awoke again in pain and feeling as if his mouth was filled. He brought a hand to his face, flinching as he touched his jaw and felt the he had swelled up. He remembered clearly now all that had happened. He had the oral surgery, Charlie brought him home, she had taken care of him, but where was she?
There was momentary panic. He felt like hell and he didn’t want to be alone. Of course, he could fend for himself if he had to, but he just wanted her there. Her presence brought him comfort and he didn’t know where she put his pain killers.
“Charlie?” He tried to call out, sitting up in the bed and feeling fuzzy around the ends. His voice was muffled and her name barely sounded like her name. Still he had made a sound and hoped she had heard him, hoped that she was still in the apartment. He tried to speak again, knowing what he was trying to say but the words coming out of his swollen mouth garbled. “Where are you?”
Her head snapped in the direction of his voice, and for a moment she considered just leaving - but for some reason she couldn’t do it. Instead, she got up and walked into his bedroom, stopping at the foot of the bed and going no closer. Crossing her arms over her chest, she fixed him with an apathetic stare.
“What?”
Rylee tried to frown but his swollen mouth wasn’t really allowing him to do so. “Can I take more pain pills?” He mumbled, completely unsure when she had given him the last dosage. With a foggy head he tried to focus on Charlie, something telling him that there was something wrong. “You okay?”
“Fine,” she snapped, voice terse and sharp, turning to leave the room. Taking her time in getting both the pills and another glass of water, she brought them back to his bedroom and set both on the nightstand, not offering them to him as she had before. “I need to go get ready for work. Yah need anything else?” The question was asked with the expectancy that he wouldn’t need anything more, and her entire body vibrated with a suppressed anger.
“The dentist said you had to stay here for twenty four hours,” Rylee mumbled, looking up at Charlie with complete confusion. “You said you didn’t have to go to work for hours.” He began to wonder if his memory was correct, that she had been so sweet before and helped him get into bed, because now she was acting completely different. Slowly, he reached out for his water and the pills, but his eyes were on Charlie.
“They’re callin’ me in early. I can go get Lia if that would be better,” she replied, the lie coming so easily. The desire to leave was becoming all encompassing, the edges of her mask fraying and showing the beginnings of how upset she felt internally. Maybe he would prefer Lia’s company to her own. She sure as hell didn’t have much of a bedside manner to begin with.
“Oh,” Rylee replied simply and seemed to slump with some strange level of defeat. He looked at his lap for a moment, incredibly sad that she was going and wishing she’d stay, but he couldn’t exactly tell her to skip out on work. “I wish you could stay...” He looked back up at her and reached for her hand, wanting to hug her before she left and thank her.
“Yeah, well, I wish I could have a million dollars,” she replied shortly, turning away from him to walk to the door of the bedroom, leaving him reaching for empty air. A friend would have stopped and said to call them if he needed anything; no, a friend would have stayed, probably, and dealt with the issues that her mind was seeing. But instead she was much too focused on leaving - she didn’t have work for hours, but surely she’d find some other way to fill the time. Her jaw worked for a moment, grinding her teeth and suppressing the angry words she would love to throw at him. Charlie figured the more mature route was just walking away.
Rylee’s hand dropped at his side as he watched Charlie leave. He felt some twist in his stomach that something had gone horribly wrong and he wondered if he was to blame. And worse, the pit in his stomach was filled with an emotion akin to loss. It reminded him of Charlie leaving his apartment at Quantico and he hoped that the drugs were making him feel like Charlie was suddenly pushing him away. He hoped it was all in his head.
He took his pain killer and settled back in amongst his sheets. It wasn’t like he could speak much while his mouth swelled, but he had in many ways looked forward to Charlie spending the day with him, and now he was suddenly alone.