Karl, Harry sinclair and dougray Scott, late Friday night, November 17th
players only. after Harry's birthday scene.
Harry swallows another couple Vicodin, being good and washing them down with water, and he leans back into the pillows, adjusting the sling and wincing. "Put in a movie, Karl, and sit with me while I pass out."
Karl rifles through the DVDs, making a face at some of the more violent choices. "What do you want? Chitty Chitty Bang Bang or About a Boy?" He grins over his shoulder at Harry.
"You choose, but I warn you, I know all the lyrics for Chitty." Harry grins. "And I'll torture you by singing."
"Hey, I like Chitty," Karl protests, singing - amazingly off-key even for him - "Toot sweets, toot sweets, the candy you whistle, the whistle you eat..." He grins again and puts in About a Boy, crawling up the bed to sit beside Harry.
"Argh, my ears. You suck at singing, Karl. Always have." Harry moves over a few inches to accommodate his lover, watches the opening credits roll. "You know I'm not long-term mad at you, just pissed."
"I know," Karl says, leaning against the shoulder that's not fucked up. "And I'm sorry. We misjudged. Big-time."
"We? The boy have a hand in planning this?" Harry sighs, leans into Karl's head. "Here I thought it was just my insane lover."
"Actually, it was his idea, but he doesn't know you like I do, so it's on my head, not his," Karl murmurs, pulling at a thread on his jeans.
His idea. Harry stares at Karl, the revelation a shock. "S'okay, I won't take it out on him. Don't really understand myself why I'm so ticked about it. Maybe I'm getting old, can't play like I used to." He pauses. "You know, we were bringing home dessert. I imagine it was crushed in the gutter during the abduction."
"What was it?"
"Pastries from the Russian place where we'd had dinner."
Karl nods. "You're not getting old," he says, pulling the thread free. "It was just a different dynamic, the three of us, worrying about him."
"I meant it, when I told you, well, you in character, to kill me instead." Harry glances down as Karl's hand rises from his jeans. "Stop that, Karl, you'll have another hole."
"Sorry. Nervous habit. I know you meant it." Karl sighs, rubs a hand over his face. "He liked the idea of the interrogation we did for my birthday but he didn't feel confident enough to actually run the scene with me and we thought it would be more intense, more believable, if he seemed to be directly involved, part of the kidnapping."
"Too damned believable," Harry mutters. The pain was real, and his mind hasn't even wrapped fully around the sex, of honestly believing he was being raped, was going to be dead in a matter of time. "I kept thinking 'one helluva way to die' but at least I felt sure you'd take revenge on the bastards."
"I would've," Karl nods, daring to give Harry a kiss on the corner of the mouth. "I would've hunted them down and made it last, and then I'd spend the rest of my life not knowing what to do without you."
"Same here, if anything happens to you. You're kinda irreplaceable, Karl." Harry turns into the kiss. "Do that again."
"What? This?" Karl kisses Harry more firmly, tip of tongue teasing between his lips.
"That's perfect." The words are muffled, Karl's tongue interfering with Harry's words. "Sorry it didn't go the way you thought. I feel guilty not enjoying the," he pauses, trying to find the right word, avoid the wrong ones, "just sorry."
"Don't be," Karl says. He kisses Harry again.
Dougray pads barefoot up the stairs and pauses on the landing, breathing a sigh as a weight lifts from his chest. They're kissing. Good sign. He knows Karl had only manufactured the excuse to get him out from underfoot - the kitchen already was clean - but it's a hell of a relief that they got to talk, that Harry no longer has that murderous light in his eyes.
"Hey," he says softly, setting a fresh bottle of water down on the night table before easing into bed on Harry's other side.
Dougray's weight jostles the bed, but Harry doesn't mind. Vicodin's kicking in. "Hi, you," he murmurs. "Come to join the group therapy?"
"Hmm. What's the fee?" Dougray asks with a smile, and shifts so that he can slide an arm around Harry without jostling his bad shoulder. "I'm pretty certain I'm already perfect," he jokes. Not a chance.
"Kisses for the invalid." Harry moves down the pillow mound to snuggle a bit closer to Dougray. "And, yeah, you're pretty damned perfect. Love you, boy."
Smiling slightly, Dougray leans in, and the kiss he gives Harry is far gentler than the ones they usually take time for. "I'm sorry if the scene was too much," he says quietly. He's guessing that Karl has already apologized, but there's his own part to take responsibility for.
"S'okay. You two went on instinct. Another time, it'd work wonderfully, I imagine."
"We won't surprise you the next time," Karl says, giving Dougray a reassuring smile. "Least not like we did tonight."
"Yeah." Harry yawns. "You two mind I pass out?"
"I don't," Karl murmurs, kissing Harry's jaw this time. "You want us here? Or want the bed to yourself?"
"Stay. Please." Harry turns his head, kisses Karl softly. "Just don't shake the bed too much."
"Suppose you don't want us kicking you in our sleep, either," Dougray teases, but he's already leaning down to tuck the blankets around them more satisfactorily.
"Kick Karl if you like," Harry whispers, his voice sleepy. "Hold me."
"Hey," Karl complains, but softly. "I want to be held too."
"Only have one good arm, Karl. How 'bout you hold me and the boy'll hold us both."
"Works for me," Dougray murmurs, slipping his arms around Harry and holding out a hand to Karl.
Karl smiles and snuggles in close. "Works for me too," he whispers.
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