['Quiet' seemed to be the name of Jason's game. He was always kind of a quiet guy when he wasn't intentionally being loud, but he'd been quiet from the moment he'd gotten there. Not awkward or reluctant, like he was being quiet because he wanted to hide something.
Quiet like something hurt. Something beyond just his hands.
He was still as Wren first unwrapped and then cleaned the bruises and cuts. Not so much as a flinch at the antiseptic or the pressure of the fresh gauze. As Wren was an old pro at patching up wounds, Jason was an old pro at being patched up. His body was a map of old scars, after all. Surely someone who took that much of a beating was used to be patched up.
So why did a few drops of something wet fall onto Wren's hair when they bent to kiss his fresh bandages? Why did one large, clumsy hand turn to gently cup their cheek?
'You're too good for me' was on the tip of his tongue, but instead he just gave another small nod and let himself be lead through Wren's home until he could pull them down with him into the mattress, letting them get comfortable before he settled in against them, arms around their hips and ear resting on their chest so he could hear their heartbeat.]
[ It would probably be more comfortable if they'd gotten changed into pajamas, and Wren filed that thought away for later. Jason bringing some over, maybe an overnight bag to keep there. The thought warmed them almost as much as Jason did curled up against them in the bed, Wren half wrapped around him in return. They stroked their fingers through his hair as he rested it against their chest, humming a soft and easy rhythm. A Jimmy Buffet song their dad used to sing to them to get them to sleep - he didn't know any traditional lullabies, but Come Monday was sweet and easy. They hoped it would help bring Jason comfort, too. ]
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Quiet like something hurt. Something beyond just his hands.
He was still as Wren first unwrapped and then cleaned the bruises and cuts. Not so much as a flinch at the antiseptic or the pressure of the fresh gauze. As Wren was an old pro at patching up wounds, Jason was an old pro at being patched up. His body was a map of old scars, after all. Surely someone who took that much of a beating was used to be patched up.
So why did a few drops of something wet fall onto Wren's hair when they bent to kiss his fresh bandages? Why did one large, clumsy hand turn to gently cup their cheek?
'You're too good for me' was on the tip of his tongue, but instead he just gave another small nod and let himself be lead through Wren's home until he could pull them down with him into the mattress, letting them get comfortable before he settled in against them, arms around their hips and ear resting on their chest so he could hear their heartbeat.]
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