Injured Mother Hen

[Josef Muller]

Josef was not happy. There was a very straightforward reason for this. He was in pain, he was bleeding, and it was all his stupid fault. One of the students today had been practicing with the staves, and one had slipped from the hand and gone flying into the mirror, shattering it. He’d quickly cancelled classes and ushered them all out and then had went to clean up the mess. He had thought he had gotten it all. But apparently that was not the case. Because later, when he’d gone to practice some katas on the newly cleaned matts, he’d found a sharp pain in his foot and then there had been blood. A lot of blood, because there was a freakin’ shard of glass sticking out of his foot. Josef had sworn. Then sworn again in German and Latin for the record until he finally managed to hop into a seat and flop down, crossing the injured foot onto his other knee. He bent his head down and breathed in and out. This was fine. Totally fine. He was just going to breathe, then get the glass out and…

He lifted his head to look at the injury, swallowed, and bent his head back down before he passed out. God, he hated being injured.

[Damien Tremblay]

Damien was happy. Legitimately happy. With the effects of nicotine withdrawal all but gone, he was actually enjoying being himself again. No more being ticked off for no real reason, no more sudden, crushing urges to light up. Sure, he itched now and again, particularly during stressful situations, but it was a lot easier to ignore them now. Popping a piece of gun or deep breaths served as distractions, but his real motivation was simple, and much, much deeper. If he could keep this up for good, there was promise of talks about the future. Good talks. Talks about things like... kids. God. It scared him as much as it motivated him, but it worked like a hell of a charm.

At three and a half months clean, he felt better than he had in a long time. So much so, that he had stopped by Josef's favourite coffee shop and picked him up some treats to get him through his classes. Maybe he'd even stick around a while. If he was lucky, he might even get to see Josef working shirtless. Not that he wasn't treated to it at home, but there was something about watching him work in the clinic sans a shirt that made the normally quiet law clerk a little less quiet.

Goodies in hand, he swung into the clinic dressed in simple jeans and a light grey t-shirt. Naturally, he lit up when he saw his boyfriend, but something wasn't quite right.

Was that... blood?

"Josef?" Try as he did, his voice still came out sounding semi-strangled. Setting his loot down at the desk, he made a beeline for the martial arts instructor and knelt in front of him. "What happened?"

[Josef Muller]

“Mmm.” Josef’s voice was a groan. He was still teaching himself to continue breathing. It wasn’t going all that well. His head was spinning. He hated blood. And being injured. And pain. For a martial arts instructor and a general all-around worry-wart who really should’ve gotten a career as a nurse, he was a total wimp when it came to his own injury. He lifted his head, his forehead covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and offered a wan little smile to Damien. “Oh, hello. Not much, I guess. I just, um, stepped on a broken mirror. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like not to talk about it because I’m trying not to pass out.” The head went back down. Keeping your head between your knees was supposed to forestall fainting. It was working, but barely.

“I need to pull it out.” His voice was muffled. “But I have a confession. I’m really bad with blood. Really, really bad.”

[Damien Tremblay]

It was rare that Damien found Josef in a state like this. For a man normally so calm and collected, seeing him in distress was surprisingly difficult. Sadly, having had a similar injury in his teens, Damien could sympathize. Cuts in the feet hurt. It probably didn't help that he could remember all too well the resistance he'd put up at the hospital over getting the fish hook taken out. Didn't matter that it would feel better afterwards. That action of the hook leaving his body had terrified him.

So... really. He could sympathize.

"It's okay," he murmured, trying to keep his voice as soothing as possible. "I get it. No one likes blood. Can I at least see it? You don't even have to look." Of the two of them, Josef was probably the more qualified one to deal with something like this, but with him on the verge of passing out, Damien wasn't left with much choice. If worst came to worst, well, at least he knew where the emergency room was.

[Josef Muller]

Yes, Josef was normally the Zen Master. Yes, it took quite a bit to faze him on a regular basis. However, he really, really hated being injured. It wasn’t so much that he couldn’t handle it. It was just that he tended to become a whiny wimp who was so unhappy with his condition that he, unfortunately, tended to take it out on everyone else. In this case, it was mostly that he really didn’t want to see the blood and it hurt. That, and the injury meant he couldn’t do much—couldn’t get up to get his phone, for example.

Still, he felt like he shouldn’t behaving quite so much like a temperamental 2 year old in front of his boyfriend, so he swallowed it down and nodded. “Mm. Just do me a favor. Tell me it doesn’t look bad even if it does.” He very, very carefully stuck out his foot. It really wasn’t that bad. There were a few shards of the mirrored glass there, yes, but the injury was bleeding sluggishly and they hadn’t gone far into the foot. Still, it didn’t look comfortable.

[Damien Tremblay]

Relationships were all about give and take. Damien didn't hold Josef's clear discomfort against him for two main reasons. The first was, naturally, it had to hurt, and pain was always a tough thing to deal with. The second was, well, turnabout was fair play. Josef had had to deal with a great amount of whining, courtesy of one nicotine deprived boyfriend over the past few months. Besides, he loved Josef. He couldn't fault him for hurting.

Steadying his kneeling stance, Damien very gently took hold of Josef's ankle to inspect the injury, as well as keep his foot still. It looked... well, like glass in a cut. Not good, but nothing needed amputating. He hoped. "It doesn't look bad," he assured him. Not bad as in not catastrophic. Semantics, that was all that was. "Do you trust me to take the glass out, or would you rather deal with someone more qualified?" He'd try, but if at any point he thought there was potentially more damage, or more glass too small to easily remove, there would be suggestions of ER visits. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that.

[Josef Muller]

“I trust you,” the voice was muffled. Josef was still working on his breathing. He knew he could be a whiney pain in the ass when it came to being injured. Or at least, anything that involved blood. Broken bones he tended to play up more than he should as well, with the difference of he didn’t mind being nannied. But when he was capable of handling himself on his own with them, barely. With blood, he wasn’t so capable. And he also had a knack for being even more of a wuss when there was someone there to take care of him. “If it’s not that bad,” he added, “then yeah, you can do it.” He shut his eyes again and dropped his head. “Just, uh, can you get something to drink? I keep a thing of whiskey under the desk.” Josef wasn’t an alcoholic, but he’d admit that when he’d first started he’d been fairly depressed. But it hadn’t been just for that. It had also been left for late nights with his staff, friends or—Sam. “Let me know if you get, uh, uncomfortable. And that’ll be fine.” Yes, because he totally loved hospitals.

[Damien Tremblay]

Well, at least he had Josef's trust. Granted, being together for a year and a half, he'd played nurse to Josef's injuries before. He'd catered to bruises, strained muscles, and a number of other things. He was used to how his boyfriend generally reacted to them. But this time it was different. He looked downright ashen, and Damien was going to do his best to avoid a fainting situation. Josef wasn't exactly tall, but he was stocky and solid. He might have trusted Damien but if he passed out? Damien wasn't sure he trusted himself to catch him without doing them both harm.

"I can try. Where's the first aid kit?" He'd never needed to know before. As for the second request, he didn't even blink. Once he was given the location for both, he placed a steadying hand on Josef's shoulder before getting up and retrieving the supplies. The bottle was handed to the martial artist, and the kit was placed on the floor as Damien settled down beside it. "If it helps, we can do a Sharknado marathon tonight. I won't even complain." Bribery worked for kids, it was bound to work here, too, right? "And you can drink all the beer you want. And we'll order pizza." It was no wonder Josef milked injuries like he did. Damien played right into it. "And, uh." He rooted through the kit before pulling out tweezers and bandaging supplies. "Just tell me when you're ready?"

[Josef Muller]

Josef managed a mumbled comment on where it was located, which was directly by one of the mirrors. He’d always had it right in front just in case of injury. Which, once again, he could handle when it wasn’t him and it was anyone else. And he could do it well, just by going into an overdrive nanny mode. It was the same nervous energy redirected toward someone else. When it was aimed at him Josef just went a little bit…weird. And as for passing out, Josef had managed to control himself and was schooling himself to keep breathing. He was dizzy, yes, but no longer in danger of fainting. It helped by having a friend here.

Josef managed a muffled laugh. “Even with this I’m not gonna force you into that. Ooooh.” He dropped his head again and breathed in slowly and steadily. “Beer is good, though. Real good. Thanks.” He grabbed the bottle and knocked it back. He wouldn’t be good for much after this. But that was kind of the goal. Pizza also sounded good, although part of the thing that always made Josef whine was the fact that he couldn’t cook after he was injured. He’d just lie around and be useless and then complain about it. That seemed to be the normal state of affairs for when he was injured. “Okay. Ready. And, uh, Damien?” He lifted his head. “Sorry if I cuss at you. Just—don’t ask me what they mean later, okay?”

[Damien Tremblay]

Damien might not have been on the receiving end of Josef's nursing tendencies for an injury, but he'd certainly had it in spades for being sick. Now it was his chance to return the favor. It didn't matter if Josef wasn't handling it well. It wasn't like Josef hadn't just seen him near his worst over the past few months. This would be easy after dealing with that.

Trying to make himself relax, hoping it would rub off on Josef, Damien settled back on the mat in front of him. "Hey, don't say I didn't offer," he said with a little smile. "We could watch White Chicks instead?" Also not in his top favorites, but he knew it was in Josef's. Right now he'd do anything to make his boyfriend forget about his injury. Up to and including watching ridiculous movies. "It's okay," he promised. "Just tell me if it gets too much." With that, he fished out the tweezers and braced his hand against Josef's ankle. The glass wasn't too deep, and it seemed to come out cleanly. It was removed as gently as he could, then cleaned the area before dressing it with gauze and a bandage. Swearing aside, at least the glass was out. "I think you're going to live," he said with a gentle smile before gently taking Josef's hand and squeezing it, kissing the back of it. "And you were a hell of a lot braver than I was when I had a hook in the same spot."

[Josef Muller]

Josef laughed, although it was still a little muffled. “You hate that movie. But thank you. Might take you up on that. If I’m not passed out or giggling by that point.” After all, he’d just had quite a bit of whiskey. He certainly wouldn’t be driving home. He’d be lucky if he was somewhat coherent. He hadn’t been drinking all that much recently. His tolerance was pretty low and he was already pretty woozy. “White Chicks drunk is terrifying. Think that’s why I watched it so many times.” He had most of the movie memorized, a fact which tended to alarm people. Josef swallowed hard as Damien spoke, then managed a very slight nod.

“Okay,” he mumbled. “All right. I’m ready.” And he was. The alcohol had already hit him a bit hard and he was feeling woozy enough to not feel the pain as severely. He barely made a peep as the glass was removed, although he might have been breathing out increasingly colorful German swear words that he definitely learned from his father. When the glass was out and the injury was bandaged, the big, bad martial arts instructor slumped back in his seat. He managed a lopsided smile. “Please tell me you weren’t fifteen when that happened because I am nearly 43 and that would be just sad.” He leaned in and because the adrenaline was still there, kissed his boyfriend thoroughly, then slumped forward so his forehead was against Damien’s chest. It was a very vulnerable position for the man. Unusually so. “This is going to make classes a nightmare. I guess I can practice the one-leg katas.”

[Damien Tremblay]

Hearing Josef laugh made Damien relax just a tad. Laughing meant that this had just gone from potentially catastrophic to manageable. With a little smile, he just shook his head. "I don't hate it, but for you, I'll tough it out. Even if you're giggling." Giggly Josef wasn't something he saw often, and it was usually just when he was drinking, or when NPH was doing something insane. Which... was par for the course with the little cattle dog. "And if you're passed out, we can watch it tomorrow. Promise." It was an easy thing to promise, knowing that it would make his boyfriend happy. What was an hour and a half of mind numbing slapstick comedy in the long run? Not much, really. "White Chicks is terrifying even without alcohol," he said with a wry grin. "At least it is for normal people. My willingness to watch it, and Sharknado with you, better show you that I really do love you." And he did. Enough to watch stupid movies, and enough to deal with... this.

He didn't react to the German words, though he did have half a mind to ask what they meant later, which Josef was back home and likely more than a little tipsy from the whiskey now and the beer at home, if he was still up for it. As angry a language as it so often came across, German out of Josef was less angry and more... something else. He suspected that the 'something else' was along the same lines as Josef felt when he spoke French. There was nothing better than seeing Josef's expression after saying something French, even if it was something as ridiculous as 'the dogs are outside.' Not that he did that often. It was much more fun to say sweet things.

"No, I wasn't fifteen." He'd been fourteen, but that wasn't going to help. "But you didn't kick me in the shoulder, or scream or cry, so you still win for bravery." After a moment, he cocked his head and ramped up his flattery and nursing skills. "And you don't look a day over thirty, so stop it." He didn't get a chance to say much beyond that, however, as he was met with a rather involved kiss. Returning it easily, his hand ran up Josef's thigh to catch his hand again and squeezed it gently to reassure him that he wasn't going anywhere. As the kiss broke, he remained still as the martial artist slumped against him, then moved to wrap his arms around his shoulders. "It's okay. Everyone'll understand. And it wasn't that bad. You'll be back to kicking their butts in no time." Nuzzling gently against Josef's shaggy hair, Damien gently pressed a kiss behind his ear. "Whenever you're ready, I'll go get your stuff and we can go home. Neil Patrick Harris'll be happy to see you." He wasn't even going to complain about the dog's name.

[Josef Muller]

Josef made a face. “Tough it out means hates it, you crazy person. But you know you like the giggling.” He was trying to achieve his usual banter but his voice was a higher pitch than usual. He couldn’t help it. He hurt, and the alcohol, the blood loss and the adrenaline had made his head spin. He felt like throwing up but swallowed it down because that was a very bad thing to do even with a partner you’d been with for a while. Good relationship ender, throwing up on them. “You’re too good to me,” he muttered. “Even when I’m being a complete and whiny wimp you’re still helping me.”

He nodded in agreement. It was terrifying. But that didn’t mean he still didn’t enjoy it. The blunt humor of it, the exaggerated aspects of the characters was something he quite enjoyed. It was blunt humor. Josef liked subtlety but it took ridiculous humor to really entertain him. “Definitely love me,” he agreed. “Lots. And I love you too. Only you’d put up with pulling glass out of my hairy foot.” Although it wasn’t too bad. Well, considering how the rest of him looked.

Josef snorted. “I don’t do that to people anymore,” he said. “I can really hurt people when I do that. I only ever did it…once.” He fell silent for a moment. That was not a topic he brought up all that much. Rarely, as it happens. He managed a soft little raspy laugh. “That’s one of the reasons I love you. You always keep my ego up. Makes me feel better about stealing you away from the younger men who deserve you.” The touch felt good, not necessarily in a sensual way but instead more of a reassuring way, contact for comfort rather than for other reasons. And he could use it. He let Damien hold him and shivered lightly at the touch. “First time you’ve used his name,” he muttered, then cleared his throat. “All right. There’s a crutch in the back closet that someone left once. Mind grabbing that? I can probably walk on it, but I’d really rather not.”

[Damien Tremblay]

Yeah, he liked the giggling. Especially when it was serving as a distraction for Josef. "Toughing it out doesn't necessarily mean hate," he argued, though his tone was good natured. "In this case it means more... general dislike of. Not hate." Still, if it was amusing Josef in his whiskey induced state, he didn't mind it. Nor did he mind being called crazy. Sitting back on his heels, the younger man studied his boyfriend before shaking his head. "Please. Are you blocking out the past three months? I think I still win hands down for whiny wimp champion of the universe." After letting that set in a moment, he lowered his voice. "Besides, this just means I get to look after you for a change, hey?"

Josef's top choices in entertainment still baffled Damien. For someone so serious to break down into fits of laughter over something as terrible as White Chicks, it just... didn't compute. Ever. He'd sat through them, sure, but his mind tended to wander, as did his hands. Not that Josef seemed to complain. "You know that doesn't scare me." The martial artist was hairy, yes, but it didn't bother him. Besides, hearing that he loved him was worth dealing with the blood any day. "But let's not make a habit of this, okay? I have better ways to prove I love you than extracting sharp things from body parts."

As Josef fell silent, Damien quietly kicked himself. Surely he'd known he hadn't meant it like that. Not knowing what else to do, he simply let his hand rest reassuringly on Josef's arm. He seemed to snap out of it fairly quickly, though, and Damien managed a lopsided smile. "I'd take you over them any day. Don't make me list why." Not that he couldn't make one on the fly, but he really hoped Josef had enough faith in him not to need him to. At least he tolerated the gentle hold. It really wasn't often their positions were reversed like this, but he was trying hard to be a good nurse. Finally, he pulled away and got back on his feet. "Right. Crutch." It took a moment of searching, but he found it soon enough and brought it back triumphantly. "Here," he said gently, offering it out. "Just, uh, tell me if you need help?" Josef hovered, yes, but Damien didn't want to quite go that far. Not unless Josef needed him to.

[Josef Muller]

“No, but it does mean dislike,” Josef retorted. His words weren’t exactly slurred but they were certainly a little bit fuzzy around the edges. Between the pain and the whiskey and the fact that he’d already been dizzy from the blood loss he was definitely feeling the effects. Josef lifted his head to look at the other man, and his mouth quirked into a half smile. “Yeah, that’s true.” Josef never had much tact. He’d tried during the last three months, but it was true—Damien had been pretty terrible. “But you had a reason,” he added. “I kinda don’t. Not really.”

Of course Josef wasn’t complain. Mind, one of the reasons he loved the terrible movies was because your mind could wander. They didn’t require thought. They didn’t require anything, not really. Just a willingness to sit back, enjoy, and let yourself be stupid for a couple of hours. That was why he liked it. It appealed more to the boy that he had been, and let his adult self forget his issues for some time. “Yup,” he agreed wholeheartedly. “Much better ways. And I don’t want to make a habit of this. It’d be painful. And disturbing. And all in all I’d rather not.”

Josef shook his head. “I won’t. Got over that a long time ago. Willing to take you at your word.” Actually, Josef had never had that need, being the type to be overly confident in a relationship rather than insecure. William had shaken him in that but he’d gotten over it given time. And a lot of support. He offered a wry grin at Damien. “Of course. I’m not that bad.” In fact, he was often quite needy and vocal when he needed something. He was one of the best examples of how bad Man Colds could be.” He pulled himself up to his feet, swayed, and giggled again. “This is a bad idea while tipsy. Okay. Let’s move slowly. And after this, food, right? And more alcohol?”