Don't think anyone's ever called me sweetheart before. ( definitely not a nickname he'd ever think to associate with.. himself. considering jason is fairly close to the opposite of one. but that being gene's go-to pet name is cute, thank you, he'll keep it.
he watches while gene stitches him up, makes note of those steady hands. it's a useful skill jason could probably take advantage of later. this? this is only the minor, for funsies shit he gets into. but there's several newer scars that are healed up a lot more messy than the neat stitches gene provided, mangled lines over his chest and burns jason left on their own to heal instead of bothering taking care of them.
the marks don't bother him. the inconvenient annoyance of stitches tearing open and getting blood everywhere does.
gene finishes and jason offers him a snarky smile, slouches over a bit to lean in close. )
These nice ones? Think putting some duct take over 'em will keep them from ripping open? I've got a roll 'round here somewhere.
( he puts his index finger right in jason's face and with all the hellfire and brimstone of a combat medic he growls out: )
You put duck tape anywhere near it an' I'll do worse than thump'ya.
( it's all play, of course. jay's bound to know he's foolin'. also... 'duck' tape... surely his accent makes it too subtle to be obvious. but despite the words that hearken to some manner of soldierly camaraderie, his expression stays faintly concerned — a furrowed brow an' a downturn at one corner of his mouth. lotta these injuries, healed up as they are, should'a seen a better quality of care.
it puts all the things he knows about jason into a slightly different perspective, somethin' just gently askew. hell, they're close to the same age, ain't they? these ain't the scars of a soldier. they're the scars of a man that walks routinely into a meatgrinder for the fuckin' hell of it. an' that's somethin' that's born of a rough, hard beginnin' to a life that ain't never been easy.
pity ain't a thing what lives in him. but honest sympathy's a dog of a different coat. )
I'll heal it some, too. Just hold still a spell, ain't done this all that much.
( he smooths his hand across the bandages an' concentrates briefly, head bowed. the blue glow flares up an' fades a few moments after. the injury ought to feel fever-hot for a second an' then it'll fade an' settle some. the pain ebbs back)
( wiggling his eyebrows. was it meant to sound suggestive? probably not. but jason will take it as a cue meant to be anyway. gene finishes up and jason reaches over to the side to grab hold of his shirt, shoving it over his head with a hand before pushing arms in and lowering it back down.
he can't exactly leave this room without covering his face, but he can sit here and keep the draft from hitting him in the meantime. grins at gene after, all snark. )
You know where to find me if you ever get in the thumping kinda mood. I'm always ready to play. ( does he really mean it? probably not. but it's less about the follow through and more about dicking around than anything else anyways. gene gets it, he's sure. ) Thanks for the patch job, too. Appreciate it.
( what he really wanted was to see what the hell his mini me meant by "healing" which. jason did get that too, thank you. it's weak, but that doesn't mean it's not useful. a field medic's better than any weird ass glowy magic power anyway. )
( an' gene, who grew up roughhousin' with three younger brothers, gives jason a brotherly smack to his calf. )
You stow that shit, son, I ain't about to put up with you battin' your eyes at me when I've got your blood all over my hands.
( he sits back on his haunches, an' a mad cravin' for a cigarette surges up to the forefront of his mind. christ o'lordy, but he could use one of them. this place is just a step outta hell for all it don't have. )
You good? Nothin' else lurkin' away behind whatever you're callin' a fashion sense?
( it gets a barked laugh out of jason, at least. loud, definitely obnoxious. easy in a way he doesn't usually laugh in front of (most) people. gene swats at him and he starts. literally batting his eyelashes at him. leans in a little closer but not quite to the point of uncomfortably close. )
Just a couple of bruises, Mister Hicks. You're welcome to inspect them if you really wanna.
( he's fine. really didn't need gene to come all this way just for the cut he had but the company is nice. )
You want a ride back to town? I can get my bike out.
( 'mister'. good lord. gene rolls his eyes, the perfectly put-upon attitude of an older brother takin' sass. )
Just call me Doc Hicks if you really get an urge to be formal.
( he is a doctor of veterinarian medicine, an' all medics were unilaterally known as doc in the war regardless of actual training or status. their training courses were four weeks on top of their regular paratrooper pt an' lord almighty, he learned more from takin' pillboxes at gela than he ever did in fort bragg. )
An' sure, why not. So long's you promise not to go too fast for my ol' bones an' all.
( this man jumped out of airplanes for a living, he fears no motorcycle. )
( but he stands up. reaches over for his hood (red, opaque) and hooks two fingers under the opening to hold onto it. doesn't slide it on over his head but raises it to wave it towards eugene himself. )
We'll have to take the back door. Don't want you spotted hanging 'round with a degenerate like me.
On account'a you bein' a rude little shit, ain't that right?
( but it's said, somehow, with affection. an' then the fella holds out a helmet an' gene just sort of raises his eyebrows in a 'what do you want me to do with this?' manner of look. seatbelts weren't invented in his day an' age, much less the thought of wearin' a helmet for a motorcycle crash. he ain't exactly safety avoidant, but the standards in his day were a lot lower, an' his tolerance for danger is conversely maybe a little higher than it should be. actually, probably a lot higher. )
Much as you're a soft touch, carin' about my southern belle reputation an' all, I don't rightly give one whit about none of that. C'mon, fella.
( an' then he just hooks his arm through jason's fit to drag him. nevermind that jason's a handspan taller an' easy has fifty pounds'a solid muscle on him, gene's got that alabama farmboy strength belied by his lithe frame. come on, you. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2020-04-15 07:04 am (UTC)he watches while gene stitches him up, makes note of those steady hands. it's a useful skill jason could probably take advantage of later. this? this is only the minor, for funsies shit he gets into. but there's several newer scars that are healed up a lot more messy than the neat stitches gene provided, mangled lines over his chest and burns jason left on their own to heal instead of bothering taking care of them.
the marks don't bother him. the inconvenient annoyance of stitches tearing open and getting blood everywhere does.
gene finishes and jason offers him a snarky smile, slouches over a bit to lean in close. )
These nice ones? Think putting some duct take over 'em will keep them from ripping open? I've got a roll 'round here somewhere.
no subject
Date: 2020-04-16 12:19 am (UTC)You put duck tape anywhere near it an' I'll do worse than thump'ya.
( it's all play, of course. jay's bound to know he's foolin'. also... 'duck' tape... surely his accent makes it too subtle to be obvious. but despite the words that hearken to some manner of soldierly camaraderie, his expression stays faintly concerned — a furrowed brow an' a downturn at one corner of his mouth. lotta these injuries, healed up as they are, should'a seen a better quality of care.
it puts all the things he knows about jason into a slightly different perspective, somethin' just gently askew. hell, they're close to the same age, ain't they? these ain't the scars of a soldier. they're the scars of a man that walks routinely into a meatgrinder for the fuckin' hell of it. an' that's somethin' that's born of a rough, hard beginnin' to a life that ain't never been easy.
pity ain't a thing what lives in him. but honest sympathy's a dog of a different coat. )
I'll heal it some, too. Just hold still a spell, ain't done this all that much.
( he smooths his hand across the bandages an' concentrates briefly, head bowed. the blue glow flares up an' fades a few moments after. the injury ought to feel fever-hot for a second an' then it'll fade an' settle some. the pain ebbs back)
no subject
Date: 2020-04-19 04:38 am (UTC)( wiggling his eyebrows. was it meant to sound suggestive? probably not. but jason will take it as a cue meant to be anyway. gene finishes up and jason reaches over to the side to grab hold of his shirt, shoving it over his head with a hand before pushing arms in and lowering it back down.
he can't exactly leave this room without covering his face, but he can sit here and keep the draft from hitting him in the meantime. grins at gene after, all snark. )
You know where to find me if you ever get in the thumping kinda mood. I'm always ready to play. ( does he really mean it? probably not. but it's less about the follow through and more about dicking around than anything else anyways. gene gets it, he's sure. ) Thanks for the patch job, too. Appreciate it.
( what he really wanted was to see what the hell his mini me meant by "healing" which. jason did get that too, thank you. it's weak, but that doesn't mean it's not useful. a field medic's better than any weird ass glowy magic power anyway. )
no subject
Date: 2020-05-11 09:16 pm (UTC)You stow that shit, son, I ain't about to put up with you battin' your eyes at me when I've got your blood all over my hands.
( he sits back on his haunches, an' a mad cravin' for a cigarette surges up to the forefront of his mind. christ o'lordy, but he could use one of them. this place is just a step outta hell for all it don't have. )
You good? Nothin' else lurkin' away behind whatever you're callin' a fashion sense?
no subject
Date: 2020-05-12 06:39 am (UTC)Just a couple of bruises, Mister Hicks. You're welcome to inspect them if you really wanna.
( he's fine. really didn't need gene to come all this way just for the cut he had but the company is nice. )
You want a ride back to town? I can get my bike out.
no subject
Date: 2020-05-14 11:39 pm (UTC)Just call me Doc Hicks if you really get an urge to be formal.
( he is a doctor of veterinarian medicine, an' all medics were unilaterally known as doc in the war regardless of actual training or status. their training courses were four weeks on top of their regular paratrooper pt an' lord almighty, he learned more from takin' pillboxes at gela than he ever did in fort bragg. )
An' sure, why not. So long's you promise not to go too fast for my ol' bones an' all.
( this man jumped out of airplanes for a living, he fears no motorcycle. )
no subject
Date: 2020-05-15 10:48 pm (UTC)( but he stands up. reaches over for his hood (red, opaque) and hooks two fingers under the opening to hold onto it. doesn't slide it on over his head but raises it to wave it towards eugene himself. )
We'll have to take the back door. Don't want you spotted hanging 'round with a degenerate like me.
no subject
Date: 2020-05-15 11:08 pm (UTC)( but it's said, somehow, with affection. an' then the fella holds out a helmet an' gene just sort of raises his eyebrows in a 'what do you want me to do with this?' manner of look. seatbelts weren't invented in his day an' age, much less the thought of wearin' a helmet for a motorcycle crash. he ain't exactly safety avoidant, but the standards in his day were a lot lower, an' his tolerance for danger is conversely maybe a little higher than it should be. actually, probably a lot higher. )
Much as you're a soft touch, carin' about my southern belle reputation an' all, I don't rightly give one whit about none of that. C'mon, fella.
( an' then he just hooks his arm through jason's fit to drag him. nevermind that jason's a handspan taller an' easy has fifty pounds'a solid muscle on him, gene's got that alabama farmboy strength belied by his lithe frame. come on, you. )