Police Chief Inspector Nicholas Angel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
diced_tartan) wrote2010-08-20 09:44 pm
diced_tartan) wrote2010-08-20 09:44 pm
Entry tags:
Recovery
“You’re doing better, then?”
Nicholas turned round at Travis’ words.
“Yep.” He was in the kitchen, figuring out supper for the both of them. In practise, this meant digging through a drawer full of menus. “And you’re home early, so you can pick.”
“I rather fancy Chinese tonight, I think.” Travis hung his coat up by the door and joined Nicholas in the kitchen. “And you’re not supposed to be off your crutches yet.”
“I got better.”
“You’ve had your stitches out already?” Travis asked incredulously. “Nick, it’s only been a week.”
Nicholas turned to face him. “Really, I’m fine,” he insisted. “Seriously. I start work again on Monday.”
“Like hell.” Travis took the menus away from Nicholas. “You’ve seen a doctor, and all?”
“Yes.”
“Nick, that fucking dog nearly tore your damn leg off,” Travis pointed out. “You don’t just recover from something like that in a week.”
“Ten days,” Nicholas corrected. “And maybe you don’t.”
“Show me,” Travis said.
“What?” Nicholas forgot all about supper at that remark.
“Show me,” Travis repeated slowly. “Because I don’t believe you.”
Nicholas couldn’t believe where this conversation had gone. “I am not taking off my trousers,” he said. “Especially not for you.”
“I’ll take them off for you, then.”
Travis reached for Nicholas, apparently prepared to follow through with his threat. Nicholas, not having any of this, all but jumped over the chair next to him to get away. “Get off!” he snapped, wandering back into the front room. “And while you’re at it, order supper.”
Nicholas turned round at Travis’ words.
“Yep.” He was in the kitchen, figuring out supper for the both of them. In practise, this meant digging through a drawer full of menus. “And you’re home early, so you can pick.”
“I rather fancy Chinese tonight, I think.” Travis hung his coat up by the door and joined Nicholas in the kitchen. “And you’re not supposed to be off your crutches yet.”
“I got better.”
“You’ve had your stitches out already?” Travis asked incredulously. “Nick, it’s only been a week.”
Nicholas turned to face him. “Really, I’m fine,” he insisted. “Seriously. I start work again on Monday.”
“Like hell.” Travis took the menus away from Nicholas. “You’ve seen a doctor, and all?”
“Yes.”
“Nick, that fucking dog nearly tore your damn leg off,” Travis pointed out. “You don’t just recover from something like that in a week.”
“Ten days,” Nicholas corrected. “And maybe you don’t.”
“Show me,” Travis said.
“What?” Nicholas forgot all about supper at that remark.
“Show me,” Travis repeated slowly. “Because I don’t believe you.”
Nicholas couldn’t believe where this conversation had gone. “I am not taking off my trousers,” he said. “Especially not for you.”
“I’ll take them off for you, then.”
Travis reached for Nicholas, apparently prepared to follow through with his threat. Nicholas, not having any of this, all but jumped over the chair next to him to get away. “Get off!” he snapped, wandering back into the front room. “And while you’re at it, order supper.”