Escapee? (F'lix)

[Requiem]

With Inocenth's injuries turning out to be by and large superficial - or at least not anything that was likely to permanently effect him - he'd been released from the infirmary within two sevendays. Which was, ironically, about the time that F'ur started showing some definite signs of life beyond the occasional breathless joke and restless sleeping. The blue had made the short hop (begrudgingly with the help of a larger dragon) to his weyrledge to complete his recuperation away from the other dragons whose faces he was seriously considering eating after his confinement with them.

With both his dragon and his kitten occupying a space decidedly not the infirmary, and the surgery that would make his knee useable again after the tearing of two rather important ligaments (or so the healers insisted), F'ur was more than ready to...leave. And leave he had. One arm in a sling to immobilize the shoulder, ribs still bound, thin as a rail, scruffy, barefoot with no clothes other than a rather bothersome patient frock, a crutch to help with the hobble - well, let's just say it was a little obvious he was an infirmary escapee.

Nevertheless, most people won't get in F'ur's way...apparently even when he looks like the walking dead. He made it to his weyr without incident - breathless, which was irritating, but apparently his lung had taken a beating along with his ribs - and hobbled over to the bed, flopping down on it. Resting his head on his good arm, and propping his good leg up on the bed, he snuggled further down into the furs. Muuuuch better. And it smelled like a feline. Speaking of...an eye cracked open as he heard movement. "Geez, I'm gone for a month and you let yourself go to shit," he quipped, the teasing grin playing over his lips. Actually, F'lix looked edible. Though that could be the month in the infirmary talking. Hm.

[rii]

Spending a month alone in the weyr, a very empty and silent weyr, had accustomed F'lix back to expecting nothing but a quiet stillness when he returned. And how he loathed the barren feel of the weyr. F'lix had cleaned it all, once, just to occupy his time. Yet for one reason or another F'lix had.. messed up.. the room just so it wouldn't feel like F'ur was.. gone. Silly, sentimental, a little peculiar and F'lix pointedly refused to rationalize the actions.

Unaware of any company (even his little mindmates didn't stir at F'ur's presence because it was familiar and no reason for alarm) F'lix stalked into the room – an angry glide to his step as a pack and leather quiver hit the floor and he immediately started peeling off his shirt–exposing the sweeping black lines of his self-applied tattoo climbing up his left side with the freshest lines coiling dangerously with the old scars on his neck. It had been another day spent helping out with various rebuilding tasks of the weyr, then a little unwinding in the jungle; focusing all his energy into hunting and a little bit of tree running to try and exhaust himself (mentally and physically). But a little miscalculation, or maybe clear lack of proper sleep, he had misjudged a jump and had taking lovely tumble. So sweat soaked and coated with an earthy dusting, F'lix returned a bruised side and broken bow later, with his mind intently focused on bathing.

Head and arms still in the shirt, F'lix visible jumped at the sound of F'ur's voice. The younger bluerider instinctively stepped away from the direction of the noise and—it had to be the universe and irony working hand and hand once again—tripped himself up on mess he had made (typically one of the reasons he picked up the items was to avoid this kind of thing). And upon surrendering his balance to gravity, F'lix sighed while laying out on his belly and fully extracting himself from the shirt.

Great. Wonderful. Had he gone into such a state of insomnia that he now was hearing things? Golden eyes, narrowed to venomous slits, raised to eye the man laying so nonchalant on the bed. Oh, seeing things too. Or so F'lix wished, because if it was just a figment of his imagination he wouldn't feel so damn embarrassed. As it was, F'lix eased up on his knees and flung the dark shirt at F'ur. "That coming from a man that looks the part of some wherry bogbeast."

Although, truth be told, it didn't matter the rather foot-in-the-grave appearance his weyrmate had developed. The sight before F'lix was still world's better than how disheartening it had been to watch F'ur slowly wasting away those first two weeks. In fact, only the visible reminder of F'ur's healing injuries, and F'lix knowledge that the man's ribs were still wrapped, kept the younger bluerider from pouncing the other rider on the spot. He was happy to see F'ur, really, regardless of the glare he shot at the grinning man.

Picking himself up, F'lix took his time in unlacing his boots, toeing them off and with each move coming a subtle step closer to the bed. A brow arched at the sight of the abandoned crutch and a smirk quirked onto F'lix's lips. "They let you go, or should I be expecting a party to come by and drag you back to the infirmary?"

[Requiem]

He couldn't resist. It was just too good. "Blinded by joy and falling for me all over again," he teased mercilessly, his tone ever-so-flippant. Stretching slowly, he felt every pang and pull - all of which were becoming a familiar symphony when he chose to move - and his smile broadened. It didn't escape his notice that his neat freak of a weyrmate had...no, he hadn't left it the same. F'ur would never put that roller thingy (he couldn't remember the name of it, though one of the greenriders had told him three turns ago...) against the far wall. A chuckle escaped his lips. What, had F'lix...messed up the mess so it would feel messy or something?

He wrinkled his nose at the younger man, shifting to snag the shirt before it could hit him in the face. A little ripe. Not that F'ur's nose was really all that sensitive when it came to such things, normally, but it was very different from the smells of the infirmary that he'd grown accustomed to. He dropped it beside the bed. "So says the dirty, sopping wet man. So disappointed...and here I expected a whoop of joy. It's all gone downhill since the fall." Tsking softly, he noted the continuation of F'lix's inking with curiosity, wanting to trace it and find the hidden meaning he knew had to be there. Like the one that coiled around his foot, his calf, and terminated somewhere around F'ur's knee. Yes. But that could wait until the kitten's curiosity drew him within reach, which the older man intended to take full advantage of.

Blinking, he snorted softly. "A party? Come to bring back a pain in the arse when they've got plenty enough people to keep them busy until the end of the turn? Doubtful." He watched F'lix narrowly, wondering how long the stalking would continue. Impatience wasn't something he usually suffered from, but limited mobility and extreme boredom the majority of the time during the days he'd been fully conscious for the last two sevendays had pretty much drained him dry of all that middle-aged serenity. Closer, come clooooser.

"I wasn't exactly sneaking, either. Just kind of got up and hobbled out. They might have said something but I was ignoring them and no one got in my way, so..." Shrugging his good shoulder expressively, he winked at the younger man. "Maybe they figure a good arm is dangerous enough." Cue a playful little growl.

[rii]

F'lix wrinkled his nose right back at the older man, amusement brimming in his eyes. Good to know that F'ur's sense of humor had not been damaged – at all. With another couple of steps F'lix hesitated near the edge of the bed. If he had known F'ur was going to be there he would have made the effort to wash up and change clothes. The dirt and bits of plant life still clinging to his pants were note welcomed additions to the blankets. Such an annoyance when his fingers were itching (twitching slightly at his sides even) to reach out and touch F'ur just to assure himself that the man was really there; to get nice and close to the warm presence he had grown exceedingly fond of in such a short time frame. Hn..

A right out snort sounded and F'lix shifted his weight over one foot, hip angling as he gave his weyrmate mild glare of scolding. "I suppose you're right, why send anyone after you?" His hand darted out, lightly smacking the side of F'ur's upraised knee. "Not when the stubborn man is likely to push himself too hard, end up hurting himself and going right back to the infirmary where he started."

F'lix was just lifting a knee to the blankets, intent to just change the bedding later, when F'ur's last comments came. The growl earned a familiar playful narrow of eyes, and the barest hint of teeth showed from between parted lips–something of a silent return of the growl directed at him. Dangerous with only one arm was he? Prove it. "Or maybe they weren't quite sure how to restrain a such a skeleton of a man without him collapsing into a pile of bones."

He rubbed the frock between his fingers, "Or amused at how he must look hobbling along in this." Personally he preferred how F'ur looked in a pair of pants and no more, ah but why complain about that little matter. F'lix didn't want F'ur to go back to the infirmary, at least, not now that he was already there in the weyr. His gaze drawing serious for a moment, F'lix let the golden color sweep rapidly over F'ur's face. The emotion was there, the need to express how much he had been afraid, how glad he was now, how much he missed, how much he—Snarl. The whole matter was like a can of worms. A turbulence of emotions that F'lix just did not have the capacity to properly express and was more quick to scold himself for being such a sap.

Something. Anything. F'lix eyes darted away, around the room as he sought out any form to stop himself from dwelling on the matters stirring inside his chest. Lowly he growled, almost mumbling out the single word. "Hungry?"

[Requiem]

One thing F'ur could say about F'lix, he definitely knew how to keep a man humble, the bluerider thought wryly to himself, greatly amused by his weyrmate's growls. I have decided that Saboth is tolerable, Inocenth commented, entirely out of the blue, earning a glance in his direction even though the stone was in the way. And what prompted this staggering revelation? Despite being a douche - There's no way on Pern you have any idea what that is. Ignoring the interruption, Inocenth continued, Despite being a douche, he's intelligent enough to recognize you're important for His. Therefore I acknowledge he isn't a complete fool, and as a result - tolerable. How...generous of you.

During the brief (and, sadly enough, completely typical) conversation between rider and dragon, F'lix's playful mood seemed to have mostly evaporated. F'ur became aware of vary serious golden eyes on him, his own grin fading slightly at the expression. A F'lix without a glare or a smirk, without mischief or laughter in his eyes - or irritation that didn't quite come across as worthy of actually paying that much attention to - was always indication of the deeper undercurrents the pair both knew about and felt but didn't often express or acknowledge. Neither man was overly comfortable with vulnerability. Northern men usually weren't.

At the abrupt topic change, F'ur let the soft chuckle loose, wrapping his good arm around F'lix's waist and tugging him against the side that had the least damage. (He was fortunate, really, that most of his injuries were on one side of his body. If you could call getting pulverized fortunate.) "No, actually. And before you make any quips about that, I just ate. So no, Pern isn't about to implode," he stated cheerfully. His hand had left F'lix's waist and now traced lightly along the jaw, his touch far more tender than his speech would have implied. It was F'ur's way of acknowledging what he'd seen in F'lix's eyes without bringing it up.

"Whatever their reasons for not intercepting me, they would have been unsuccessful anyway. You honestly think I would have let anyone stop me from rescuing my weyr from the tornado feline? What did you do in here? I thought it would be all neat and tidy and hopeless to find anything, but instead it looks like you came through and just switched up where I had everything, creating an even bigger mess. And making it equally as hopeless." He tsked quietly. "Too late to save my poor collection."

Sprawling comfortably on the bed he'd missed so much, with his first weyrmate and arguably the lover who'd managed to snare F'ur more than any other, he was almost purring in delight. Night visits from a feline careful of his injuries in the infirmary were welcome, but it definitely wasn't the same.

[rii]

F'lix readily yielded to the arm at his waist, moving down to curl in close with the older rider. The simple tug was all the permission F'lix needed to achieve as much bodily contact as possible while still being mindful of the injuries. It was the closest thing F'lix would ever express of throwing himself at the other–if in a cautious fashion. And being tender with F'ur felt insulting, but there was little else F'lix could without risking doing harm (unlikely to occur, but he couldn't push away the worry).

At the touch F'lix eyes closed to fight back the emotions that tried to surface due to the simple gesture. No, he didn't want to drag it all out into the open. Instead F'lix fled from immediate sight by tucking his face down against the intimate warm of F'ur's neck while a hand found the other man's hair. He drew in a slow, deep breath to calm his mood. Hn, smelled of redwort and other various scents that just weren't F'ur. And – bother, F'lix tugged lightly on the long strands while softly growling against skin. Playing off a show of irritation because F'lix could feel the embarrassed flush creeping up his neck. F'ur wasn't suppose to realize the mess wasn't the one that had been left a month prior. Shardit. F'lix thought he had gotten things–the mess–right enough to be able to escape notice.

"Curses," F'lix murmured lowly where his lips hovered below F'ur's ear. "Here I was too distracted with your well being that it didn't even dawn on me to take the opportunity to get rid of all this junk." Always making threats toward various scattering of what he deemed useless objects but F'lix never acted on those particular words. Not that he thought F'ur would even notice if something was missing – maybe, maybe he would after a few turns. "And what do you mean what did I do? It's all there. Strew about the floor like it always is. But if it is all a lost cause I could get rid of the eyesore.."

Brown furrowed in a mile scowl, F'lix pulled back a bit to view F'ur's profile. He pointedly pulled one of the strands of hair around to let it flop in the man's face. Scruffy too, F'lix noted with more notice as his fingers passed along the facial growth. He wasn't complaining, no, but the gruff did make it difficult for him to get close for very long. F'ur just looked... a different man. Even the feel of him was different–become too similar to the skin and bones they made jokes about.

[Requiem]

F'ur settled loosely in the bed, feeling the warmth of the man beside him and sinking into a familiar warm contentment that would last for at least a short while. Any time at all was good, considering antsyness was something of a trait of F'ur's and he could do very little to rid himself of it. For now, though, just having the familiar body against him was enough, and he found himself drifting towards sleep despite all intentions to the contrary.

Strangely enough, the growling voice just below his ear and the movement against his neck only managed to increase the lethargy - or maybe they'd mixed something into his food again. (The healers had taken to less conventional means of keeping F'ur deliriously hyped up on fellis. Fortunately, they'd finally gotten the clue that a regular dosage for a man his size was enough to knock him into the dangerous zone past loopy, even if they insisted on still administering fellis to him. He'd be lucky if he didn't end up with withdrawals. Sharding healers.)

"Blessings, and everything in between," he returned in a tone that sounded suspiciously like a purr. F'lix's voice right by his ear was more than welcome. His eyes shifted toward his weyrmate's face, the one part of him (along with the half-mocking set to his lips that rarely changed) that were just as they had always been. "You've got the thingamajigs mixed in with the doodads, and there's a whatchamacallit sitting in a sea of somethingorothers. I can handle a few missing gadgets, but touch my hat or my fans and you're going over the ledge after them," he drawled pleasantly, snugging his arm around F'lix's middle.

Twitching his nose at the offending piece of hair, he blew on it, keeping it in the air for several seconds before letting it fall right back. "Hm. I wonder if you can even see me under all this mess," he mused aloud, not really having considered before now that he likely looked like a holdless man just now rattling into a more populated area. Didn't even want to know about the facial hair. (From the itchyness, though, he'd guess it looked hardly more civilized than a head full of wild curls.)

[rii]

The hat. F'lix attention briefly flickered over to the mention object. He had thrown it, once, during pique of rage during the first week after the attack from Fort. It had been sheer annoyance of how ... attached.. he had become to the older rider and how he felt as if he was falling apart with F'ur verge of being gone for good. His own loyalty disgusted him at times. Truly made F'lix want to force a distance back between them. F'lix has honestly tried to go sleep in his own weyr as a futile beginning attempt but.. obviously had not succeeded. The ghostly pain that clawed at the inside of his chest was not something he could manage well. Physical pain was another thing entirely, the emotional mess was.. bothersome.

Hn.

Continuing to slide his fingers through loose curls, F'lix opted to not comment back on the teasing. He didn't want to fess up to the deed, but it was obvious enough he couldn't bluff his way out of the matter. Coiling a leg around F'ur's, F'lix pulled himself closer to graze teeth along F'ur's neck in a sharp snap of over-played annoyance. "Why would I throw those things out, I was planning on keeping them. Although since you're back I suppose they can be yours again.."

Tugging pointedly at the lengthy strands, F'lix gave a small teasing smile at his weyrmate. "It has gotten long.." The way F'lix avoided kissing the older man was clue enough that the facial hair was at an irritating, prickling length. "As for recognizing you underneath the looks of a half-starved, crazed man.. well, you always were a bit crazy – and thin. This is something of an exaggeration? The needling though, that hasn't changed one bit."

F'lix lightly bit down on the inside of his bottom lip as his tone shifted away from the playful teasing. "Will you stay ... here.. tonight at least?"

[Requiem]

His head turned toward F'lix, looking down on his weyrmate with an amused affection. And perhaps he was feeling just a touch lightheaded, too, but he ignored that. He could never be sure how much of the way F'lix acted was the bluerider, and how much of it was to play to F'ur's teasing needles about being like a feline. (Even if it was rather true...more than he would have initially thought.) "Wounding me," he murmured, not even bothering to put a touch of hurt into the words. "Thin? Crazy? And here I was going to let you borrow my hat - maybe - if you're really good." Note no attempt to argue that he wasn't thin or a touch crazy, before or now. Not that F'lix had ever complained about either, in the past.

Running his toes along F'lix's calf, he nipped his ear briefly. "You kidding? Go back? They'd have to bring an army that could get past a feline to drag me back," he commented lightly, tugging his weyrmate up until he was partially on top of F'ur. "I think they drugged me again, though. Head's feelin...funny." Which was actually an improvement over being ridiculously high. "So if I fall asleep on you..." Don't be surprised. Slipping his hand up to F'lix's neck, he traced the winding of the inking that he hadn't yet seen with his fingertips, all the way down his torso with analytical slowness.

"Been busy. What story were you telling?" He kept on getting a feel for it, like it was going somewhere specific, and then it would abruptly take a wrong turn. The fan dance that was hidden in his own inking made him believe there was something hidden here as well, but he couldn't quite seem to pin it down. "You'll have to show me later," he told F'lix sluggishly, eyes half-lidded against the growing lethargy. He really should get ice on his knee before it swelled to the size of his head again, but...that required moving and he wasn't in any mood to do so presently.

[rii]

Muscles tensed at the shift in position and F'lix slightly raised up on one knee and an elbow, bracing himself with his other arm, just so he wasn't putting any pressure on those wrapped ribs. F'ur may be attempting to dismiss the injuries, but F'lix was ever too mindful of them all. He lightly snorted at the comments, toying with quipping how Avaria – the actual feline in the weyr – would put up a fight; but also that he himself would but the one dragging F'ur back to the infirmary if the man's health started to slide downhill. But all that came out was a faint scowl and a soft muttering growl before F'ur's actions had that every so amusing pacifying effect on the Bendenite.

It was a sign of absolute trust that F'lix tilted his head away, allowing F'ur's touch better access to the inked lines – small and finely done in a fashion to be coiling in some sort of engagement with the scars already present. The design on his torso consisting more of large sweeps of black that at times resembled the lick of flame if at the right angle. To be honest F'lix didn't know if there really was a story behind the lines.. but he wasn't about to tell F'ur that. Oh no, F'lix enjoyed the attention far too much to risk losing it. Something of an odditiy, as F'lix really was not one to enjoyed to be touched, a trait sprung from his past and self conscious nature of his scarring. Not even F'ur's touch could fully detour the way the young bluerider would suddenly begin to tense up and his mind would go elsewhere..

But the inked lines were different. Not linked to any unpleasant memory. They were crafted solely by his own two hands, under his own free will. The younger rider suddenly chuckled, a soft lazy sound as he slid one leg all the way over so he was straddling F'ur's waist. He nuzzled the side of the other man's face, trilling his tongue in an impressive mimicry of a purr before he moved to sit upright. F'ur's little kitten, shouldn't he be purring while being petted? The thought certainly amused F'lix, and his golden eyes were slitted in a familiar sly amusement as he gazed down at his weyrmate – a touch challenge there to keep F'ur interested in trying to figure out what story laid behind the twist and sweep of black over pale flesh.

"Let me cut your hair first," F'lix said, even as his hands rested on F'ur's abdomen and moved up until he could feel the bottom of the chest bandages through cloth. It was obvious enough the older rider was drifting off, and F'lix by all means was going to let him rest. "And you should change." There was no amount of harshness to the words, but F'lix was keen on getting rid of any reminders of F'ur's stay in the sick rooms. Not to say F'lix didn't have other motives; such as getting rid of a portion of the scent of the infirmary, and not to forget his growing irritation with the amount of dirt getting into the furs. No, no.. F'lix too had to change.. his clothes and the bedding. Not wanted, needed to.

[Requiem]

His hand slid down to nestle firmly against the slope of his waist as F'lix moved to straddle him, an eyebrow lifting in silent questioning. F'ur whined softly in his throat, sliding his hand back up the man's side as far as he could comfortably reach. Not fair, pulling back like that. His eyes flicked toward the little chink and the eyes watching him silently. He wrinkled his nose, jerking his head slightly, and Terror slid down the wall, scampering over to drape himself over the man's neck as the older bluerider returned his attention to F'lix with a mild frown, taking a long moment to mire through the words. Shardblasted healers.

"Bothers you that much?" he murmured, amusement rippling through his voice at the thought that F'lix protested the longish hair so much that it couldn't wait. (It was long for F'ur, but still not long enough to be considered long by most.) Changing clothes, however, elicited a look of decided distaste. He hated struggling to dress and undress himself, partly due to the fact that it accentuated his current weakness - and of course because it was uncomfortable to move like that. His hand closed around F'lix's wrist where it rested against his stomach and he attempted a pout that likely would get him laughed at. "Do we have to?" he questioned, infusing the words with enough petulance that he just had to be playing it up for his weyrmate's amusement.

[rii]

F'lix head canted to the side at the brief flash of expression on F'ur that wasn't playful or sleepy. The pout went mostly unnoticed as F'lix attention hinged elsewhere. His gaze slowly tracked down to the hand holding his own at bay and for a moment F'lix wondered if he was making a nuisance of himself. He couldn't help but need to touch and be close to his weyrmate; assure himself that the older rider was going to be alright, that he was here and well. But, perhaps, he was pushing things a little too much too soon. Or, it could be one of the many other possibilities he was attempting to dismiss as quickly as they sprung up from the dark.

Extracting his wrist from the light grasp, F'lix raised up on his knees so that he wasn't making a seat of F'ur's lap – putting that little more of distance between them. An eyebrow arched, and F'lix managed a brief twitch of an amused smile. "Refusing to get undressed?" Where his expression may have failed his voice still managed to express the humor. Bracing himself with an hand on the bed either side of F'ur, F'lix leaned down to linger just above the older man. "I knew I should have washed up before returning here. Haven't had anyone around to work out the snarls in the fur, keep the claws trimmed.. and toss me into a bath if I start resembling something a little too feral to be staying indoors – let alone on the bed.."

And, before F'ur could tease or read into anything in the words (although F'lix doubted that considering F'ur's altered state), F'lix lowered the rest of the distance to kiss the other man. A light and decidedly brief contact to avoid any excessive touch of the prickling whiskers. A small nip ended the kiss as reminder that F'lix wasn't always going to be this gentle with his weyrmate. Pulling back, F'lix spoke no higher than soft whisper. "No, we don't have to. You smell like the sick," Smothered in redwort and bedridden too long. "And you look like that man I watched dying. I just wanted to remove that reminder..

"But rest, F'ur. You'll probably do better sleeping here than at the infirmary. I'm going to go wash up, then talk to the healers.." Golden eyes narrowed scoldingly at his weyrmate. F'lix would inform them of where F'ur was, even though it was likely they already knew, but he would ask them if there was anything he needed to know regarding F'ur's injuries. "I'm glad you're here F'ur, I want you to be here." He shared in a quiet hush, quickly following the statement with a growling second. "But Faranth help you if you end up getting hurt because of stupidity of impatience, because I will make you go back to the infirmary."

With the words spoken, F'lix's bare feet met the floor as he slipped away to pad toward the dresser.

[Requiem]

The normally schooled and playful expressions of the older bluerider - and even the range of more intimate ones that he frequently offered F'lix, with their little twists but still enough openness to be read - were down. And what appeared on his face was a very real and active hurt at F'lix's withdrawal. F'ur wasn't registering words anymore for the most part, the fellis hitting his system in a strong wave that he was only fortunate had waited as long as it had, really. It would have been bad to come under its full effects while still traversing the hall. The steady pain of his ribs and throbbing in his knee was gone, and the lesser pain of his arm as well. Small blessings. His eyes looked for a moment almost as if they might moisten at any moment, but instead they just dulled, looking somewhat resigned.

He attempted to hold onto F'lix. What was mistaken for a light grip actually was a lack of strength, a small whine sounding in his throat. No, why? What was he doing wrong? Nor was F'lix good at masking his emotions, and the familiar uncertainty that he'd mostly managed to banish was back in the younger man's eyes. The man's distress eased somewhat at the touch of his weyrmate's lips on his, F'ur's mind clearing slightly at the contact, his hand finding F'lix's thigh. Touch. Liked touch. Needed touch. Why did he feel like he was floating?

Remove...reminder...He didn't hear any more after that, blinking dully at F'lix. Only catching occasional words here and there, one phrase stood out. "...take you back to the infirmary" No, no, no. It was because he didn't want to undress? F'lix was moving away, probably to get the healers. He struggled, whimpering, and finally managed to get the overlong tunic off, shivering slightly as he curled on the furs. It took a moment, but he managed to pull himself and contort enough to get the furs over him to stave away the chill. "Don't go." Even though it was too late. He couldn't see F'lix anymore. (To be fair, though, his vision had blurred significantly and he was having trouble seeing much of anything.) "Don't make me go back," barely above a whisper.

"F'lix?" Where...? A blind grope that was more a twitch. Tears gathered in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He wasn't alone. Inocenth was a steady present, and he reached out for him. Sleep the blue insisted. Sleep. This was the fellis talking, most of it. The blue growled softly to himself. Just let one of those healers that kept his constantly drugged and confused near him. Humans may not have a lot of meat, but he was sure the meall would be immensely satisfying just the same.

F'ur didn't sleep, though. Not yet. He thought that maybe...just maybe...F'lix would stop being mad at him.

[rii]

If F'lix had been more keen in watching his weyrmate's expression, he wouldn't have moved away. As it was, F'lix was already across the room and crouching in front of the dresser pulling on a clean shirt, withdrawing a fresh set of clothing and folding it over his arm with intent of changing into them after cleaning up. His foot was nearly out the door when he paused, the queer set of movements and sounds from F'ur drawing F'lix's ever-curious gaze.

The clear distress displayed by his weyrmate alarmed F'lix. The younger rider stepped closer to the door frame, absently masking the silhouette of his body as he quietly observed – because he didn't understand what was happening and for some reason by watching an answer or solution would form. F'ur was fine (as much as he could be) just a moment ago. The sudden slide downhill worried F'lix to to the degree where he actually felt physically ill. F'ur had said something about his head feeling funny, and the behavior did resemble a fever-ish f'ur. Should he go get a healer..?

His head turned, golden eyes shifting to gaze out toward the stairs. In the end, however, F'lix couldn't bring himself to walk away from his weyrmate – even if it was to go in order to help him. It felt better to stay. Besides, he had a dragon that could relay questions without actually fussing at a healer to check on F'ur.

"Shardit F'ur." He quietly cursed as he threw the clothes onto the nearby chair. Hastily he removed the dirty pair of pants and replaced them with a cloth, sleeping pair. "What is wrong?" And was it ever going to get better? F'ur had been consistently a bit off kilter during his wakeful moments in the infirmary. "I don't know what to do. You're always the one that.. that.. "

Briskly shaking his head, F'lix resolved to push the insecurities back into his thoughts, where they belonged, so that they weren't slipping past his lips – regardless if he was more or less talking to himself in growling mutter. The younger crawled back onto the bed, moving F'ur's arm before resuming his position alongside the ex-fortian's uninjured side – more toward the head of the bed so he laid partially above the other. A hand already soothing through the mess of hair in a childishly comforting motion. His other arm wrapped around F'ur shoulder to tug him a little closer without jarring the slinged arm. F'ur didn't feel hot, so that meant no fever..

.. which only made F'lix more concerned.

"Rest, F'ur." The words had an odd familiar taste to them, and F'lix memory quickly sprung forth the scene played between them months ago in the infirmary, and those words that had tugged so thoroughly at his heart strings. "You're not alone." The furs were pulled up a little more to better cover the older rider. "I'm still here. Not going anywhere. Rest, F'ur.. "

[Requiem]

It took effort to concentrate on the growling voice, his eyes closing against the swimming in his head and the faint nausea that came with it. Hated fellis. The healers would never listen to him, either. Not until he brought it to his wingsecond one turn, and the man more or less threatened to nail their genitals to the wall if they gave F'ur anything he didn't explicitly ask for. The man had said something about some people having a low resistance, and it was possible to even be allergic to fellis, though that was rare.The bluerider wasn't sure one way or the other, but he knew it created confusion, nausea, and other things people didn't normally experience. And the thought briefly passed through his mind that some healers would be rather put out with their genitals nailed to a wall. His wingsecond didn't tend to make idle threats.

No, no, his wingsecond was dead. Selenitas. Where...?

A warm body. He growled, twitching away, but the hand in his hair was a familiar and singular gesture. Only one person had ever done that on a regular basis, and the touch got through the haze just enough. "F'lix?" He helped as best he could as the younger man tugged him closer, trying to touch as closely as he could. Nuzzling him, his fingers gripped the leg of his pants, tightening there. The hand slid up, groping for his face, finding it and brushing the fingers along his jaw. "Don't...they'll give me fellis again," he insisted with quiet earnestness. "Does weird things to me."

Content, then, that F'lix understood - or at least understood enough not to send him back to the infirmary while he slept, fighting for every moment of clear thought for the interminable future - he curled against the warm safety of the other man. The roiling of his thoughts were steadier now that his weyrmate was here, not pulling away, not leaving him to the dizzying, disorienting pool and Inocenth's angry concern. Concern from Ino always distressed F'ur more, because the blue was pretty unflappable. It was crazy, really, but he could actually formulate thoughts right now, like F'lix had his sanity and as long as he was touching him he was fine. Oh it was still muddy, he still felt vaguely disoreinted, but he knew where he was, what time he was. Knew where they were.

"Stay." It was half a request and half a sigh of relief. "Love you, kitten," he murmured, snuggling closer against him and going still, the quiet of his breaths deepening into a steady pattern.