poor rhys gets bonked on the head, again
The first thing he sees when he wakes up is Jack, which isn’t unusual but the fact that he’s lying in a white room with his head throbbing and the scent of disinfectant heavy in his nose is. Sound feels far away but its crawling back slowly, as if from the other end of a tunnel, and when Jack’s lips move Rhys can just manage to make out what he’s trying to say.
“Who gave you permission to fall asleep, pumpkin?”
He says it with a touch of humor, because that’s how Jack says everything. Rhys isn’t sure he’s ever heard him take anything seriously but, well—this is close, because even though there’s a slight amused tinge to his voice it doesn’t reach his eyes, and his smile is flat.
“Sorry…was I not supposed to…?” Rhys replies, voice a little fuzzy and heavy. His lips and tongue feel a little too big for his mouth, making talking as difficult as hearing. Remembering what exactly had happened is proving pretty hard too, which sucks. He wants to know why exactly Jack looks like that.
“Well, I…” Jack purses his lips together, before shaking his head. “You know what? It’s fine. Now that you’re awake, it doesn’t matter.”
He keeps stroking the soft spot where Rhys’ thumb meets his forefinger. It’s nice and relaxing, a far greater and steadier reminder of reality than the machines beeping around him.
“Might matter a little…don’t really remember what the hell happened to me…” He shifts, realizing he’s only half resting against the hospital pillow. Jack’s shoulder partially supports his head and he has Rhys’ hand held snugly atop his own stomach. Rhys can feel the vibration of Jack’s voice through his middle as he talks.
“Some moron didn’t secure the Overcompensator 2.0 prototype right. Damn thing broke through its rigging on one side, swung down, and brained you on the noggin.” Jack helpfully demonstrated the incident with his free fist and their joined hands, complete with a half-hearted “scream.”
“I feel like I’d remember something like that,” Rhys mumbles, trying to think, but its just a foggy blur of unconsciousness and pain.
“Oh yeah, uh. Doctor Whatshisname told me that. You might have some memory problems considering it…knocked some stuff loose in there.” Jack tilted his chin towards Rhys’ bandaged skull. “But don’t worry, they said they stuck it all back in place. Just gotta take it easy for a few days. Coast on that LOA pay.”
“Good thing I’m sleeping with the boss…I think he’s gonna let me slide…” Rhys sighs, letting his head fall against Jack’s shoulder. The impact, though light, sends a little shock of pain through his temple. Ow. They really had done a number on him. All this from a stupid prototype? He has to have had harder knocks to the head than that.
But cybernetics can be delicate little things. It isn’t the first time something’s gone wrong inside of his skull, but it has been awhile since he’s blacked out because of it.
The two of them lapse into quiet for a few moments. Rhys notices Jack as his face relaxes, the lines in his face apparent, even with the mask. The exact mechanics of how that could work escapes Rhys for a moment, but it’s clear enough Jack hasn’t been sleeping right. Shit. How long was he out?
“You…you look almost as bad as I feel…” He breaks the silence, earning Jack’s mildly offended chuff.
“Shut up, pumpkin. Hard to keep my looks up when I’m watching over your dumb ass.”
“Wow. Were you really that worried about me?”
“Well,” Jack sniffed, “I don’t now if worried is really the right word. Annoyed maybe. If you died or got put in a frikkin’ coma who am I gonna have organizing my files and fielding my e-mails? And ordering my coffee just the way I like it. No one else is gonna do, sugar. And if Handsome Jack doesn’t have his caffeine fix in a timely fashion this whole place is gonna go down.”
“What about the blowjobs?” Rhys teases softly, giving Jack’s hand a squeeze as he snorts.
“The blowjobs are what’s holding this whole company together.”
Rhys smiles even as he feels numbness and exhaustion threaten to re-take him. He snuggles closer to Jack, craving the warmth and comfort of the CEO’s frame.
“Can I have permission to fall asleep this time?” He murmurs, breathing against the side of Jack’s neck. He smells less like the hospital, more of dusty cologne and that hint of blood that always clings to his skin. Weird to be comforted by that sort of smell especially when he’s apparently just dodged major injury, but he’ll take it.
He feels Jack lift their joined hands up until they rest against Jack’s chest, where he can feel the calmed beat of the CEO’s heart, lulling him back into a healing rest.
“I don’t mind keeping watch for a little bit longer.”
For caretaker prompts, how about 1, 6, or 18?
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ugh 