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[ The infirmary is becoming a very popular backdrop for these public posts, but it isn’t like there’s much else to do in the infirmary. “Try to get better” is going on his list of stupid things people say when they’ve got nothing, and he’s never going to say it to anyone again.

His bed’s raised to put him in a sitting position, with the tablet in front of him and his right hand hovering near his stomach because he doesn’t quite trust that the device won’t fall on him. It’s been that kind of week. ]

I think I’m getting sprung soon. There’s definitely less meds, and I’ve been downgraded from chocolate to tapioca so I think the welcome’s wearing thin. But, hey, the chance of busting a gut is way down.

[ He smiles, but he looks worn around the edges. The side effects of getting torn up by a maniac and getting medical care from an evil corporation and belatedly worrying about what he could’ve said when drugged. ]

Or it is now that I’ve officially used up all my related puns. I had some great sight gags planned, but they’re refusing to work with me on this. They won’t bandage me into a mummy, the doc vetoed my giant belly ring idea, and you won’t believe the look I got when I suggested a Mr. Potato Head port for accessories.

[ He shakes his head, because this is clearly a missed opportunity. ]

I really thought the snack tray attachment would clinch it for me. Next time I’m going to book a hype man for my pitch.

[ But, in the meantime, he’s here, with no cable, and he’s really trying to not bother people that need to rest. ]

Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks. [ He throws it in at a random space and doesn’t expound on it. Robbie doesn’t know all the ins and outs of how Rogue and he were found, but he’s immensely grateful. ] So... anybody want to play 20 Questions? Or tic tac toe or hangman, if you can keep track? I’ll even open up a PG-13 AMA.

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[The Infirmary had temporarily been a disaster zone, but despite Brainy bursting on scene as the only (extremely inexperienced) doctor type person and upending everything in Glotfelty's absence, there is now calm and there are three patients recovering from surgery (and the fourth in the capable hands of a roboticist).]

[The last stitch has been put in place, the last wound dressed, and Brainy has washed up and changed back out of his bloody scrubs and into his navy rig uniform. His omnicom (temporarily allowed by Washburn in a surprise bout of reasonableness) has a small holographic projection of three sets of vitals and ongoing medical scans. One of them matches Robbie's monitor.]

[He's asleep now, having finally given into exhaustion. Normally he functions on far less sleep, but all the activity and stress has burned through his normal endurance. Especially since Jorgmund still hasn't accounted for the amount of calories he needs every day. Special K gave him five pudding cups on the sly to try to make up for it. But still, he's given into the fatigue and now he's slumped at Robbie's bedside, asleep in his chair, arms and head resting on the bed.]

[Despite the ongoing medical monitoring and the alarms set to go off if any of their vitals tank, he still has a hand wresting gently on Robbie's wrist, fingers against his pulse. A single track of consciousness is only half-asleep, keeping an eye on it to make sure it stays strong and steady.]

[His face is turned towards Robbie's where he lay, his expression slightly distressed but mostly unguarded. His skin is clammy - he'd put the uniform back on during the night when it was cold, and now the desert heat has the Infirmary a touch too hot. His hair is wildly unkempt, cowlicks unable to pick a single direction.]

[He's also drooling slightly due to the way his mouth is pressed against the starchy blanket.]

[Very dignified.]

[ The pulse jumps into a quicker rhythm, fitting in another nine of ten beats per minute. It’s not a worrying difference, just the first sign of waking up.

However, at this first tease of consciousness, Robbie’s body and mind throw themselves at it wholeheartedly, and damn the torpedoes. The result is not a delicate flutter of eyelashes and a drowsy groan, but a lurching crunch upwards off the mattress and an immediate zombiesque moan as he drops back down.

Robbie’s not coherent enough to determine if that hurt, but his stomach definitely said no más. Anyway, he still hasn’t managed to open his eyes yet so he’s not sure if he can manage más right now. There’s an urgency to opening his eyes, but he can’t figure out what it is with a brain full of cotton candy.

He’s not on the floor, anymore, so that’s nice. And he’s warm, that’s nice too. He’d been so cold, and he didn’t want to fall asleep. Robbie doesn’t want to fall back asleep.

Something’s holding his right hand, and so it’s his left arm that drifts up to rub at his eyes - and misses. His forearm hits his forehead and slides up his forehead, over his hair, and onto the pillow. Some flailing around finally gets the back of his hand mashing against his eyes and cheek, where it drags against tape and tubing.

That finally clicks as wrong enough for Robbie to force his eyes open, and his eyelids weigh about fifty pounds as he stares up at the ceiling and the wall behind him. Metal, machines, white... he’s completely confused. He’s lived at least five places with rooms like this, and Brainy’s presence doesn’t narrow it down far enough. Robbie hates this feeling; he’s been struggling to keep up ever since that asshat shot at - ]

Rogue? Brainy, help me!

[ Or at least, that’s what he thinks he says. In reality, it sounds more like ‘Woh-oo? Pweh-nee, hel-lee’.

There’s a frenetic, uncoordinated attempt to get up again. Robbie pulls his right hand free to fumble at the side of the bed for leverage and paws at the wires on his face with his left.

Equally charming, a true sleeping beauty. ]

[The track of consciousness that was keeping watch jolts all the others awake. Brainy's mental processing time and the fact he's waking from a normal sleep rather than an altered state of consciousness means he goes from sleeping to wide awake and coherent in a nanosecond.]

[He stands, then sits on the side of the bed, bodily blocking Robbie from getting out of bed, a heavy hand on his shoulder, the other hand firmly grabbing the hand pulling at the wires and tubing.]

Robbie, sit still.

[It is a voice of steely authority, the voice he uses when he's trying to make it clear, that under no uncertain circumstances, others should immediately listen to him. It is a tone of voice he uses frequently and one his teammates trust because it snaps into place when they must do something urgently against an imminent threat. ]

Rogue is alive. Everyone is alive. No one died. No one died.

[And because he knows Robbie will be thinking it...]

Your powers didn't harm anyone. Rogue safely absorbed them. The enemy is gone. You're in the Medbay. [It's called the Infirmary here, but it's Medbay on Legion World, and the Medbay has only ever been a safe place for the displacees to recover.] Everyone is recovering.

[He moves the hand from his shoulder to gently touch Robbie's temple.]

I'm using my empathic power to help you calm down because if you undo any of those stitches, I swear I will hold you in the infirmary an extra week. Until you nearly expire from boredom.

Tell me when to stop.

[Whatever causes his power seems to bypass Robbie's psionic immunity in much the same way the Sisters of Sin could. But the calm he's projecting isn't intrusive. It's the mental equivalent of a warm blanket around the shoulders, the natural calm Robbie would eventually reach on his own, granted several minutes early. It is also simply Brainy as a mental presence, close by.]

[And it is something that will stop with just a word, when Robbie wants it to.]

You're safe. Everyone is safe. Breathe.

Edited 2020-11-11 21:13 (UTC)

[ Robbie stills at the order. In his experience, the bossier Brainy gets, the more imperative it is to listen to him. Some people favour leading by example, others by heart, but Querl’s leadership leans heavily on an almost annoying combination of being right and righteousness. Robbie’s learned that, if Brainy orders someone to do something, it’s the best course of action for everyone.

But then Querl proves that he’s perfectly capable of empathy without any superhuman abilities, if it were ever in doubt, by answering every question that Robbie hasn’t been able to properly form yet.

Rogue’s okay. Everyone’s okay. No one died. They’re safe.

And he didn’t hurt anyone.

Robbie relaxes into the bed and breathes slowly if not deeply. He lays there for a good minute just letting that wash over him. He - everyone’s safe.

He meekly blinks up at Brainy. He feels distinctly seen and understood, but supported rather than vulnerable or exposed. Querl knows what makes Robbie tick. ]

I’m still. Please don’t expire me with boredom. Do you want the room to smell like rancid Robbie?

[ He’s a bit easier to understand, without the panic fighting against the drugs still working their way out of his system, although it will be awhile before he makes complete sense. Whether it’s the knowledge or the empathic guidance, he’s soothed.

And he doesn’t mind it, a touch of the steadiness that he associates with Brainy. All that thought processing power gives him a level-headed assurance that’s very appealing to Robbie, whose life has been general chaos since he was fifteen. It makes him feel... protected. He doesn’t really want it to stop. ]

No expiration then.

[Brainy keeps up the calming mental touch because Robbie has seemed to find it comforting so far. He extends it into a physical touch as well, first cupping Robbie's cheek gently. Then he starts petting his hair.]

[He knows how many times Robbie has woken up in places like this, after getting hurt. And how few of those times someone was there to comfort him. How many harsh awakenings had he had? How many times had he been hurt and alone? How many times had he woken up to face people that were cruel and uncaring?]

[So one hand just pets Robbie's hair, in a way that says "you're safe and everything's going to be okay."]

[His other hand deftly scans Robbie with his omnicom, a brain scan now that he's conscious, to make sure the blood loss hasn't had any deleterious effects. He looks over the results without removing his hand from Robbie's hair.]

You should also make full recovery.

[He wants to assure him of that as well, but knew he needed the emphasis on others first.]

Let me know when you're more alert and I'll give you more information. For now, just calm yourself. You need to try to keep your blood pressure down until you recover.

[ Less times than Querl has, if the way he was raised is factored in, but this is probably the nicest recovery room he’s ever been in. He’s been in more than a few.

Yes, it’s probably the same medical team that implanted the shock collars in him, but Robbie isn’t handcuffed to the bed, no one’s dead, and Brainy’s there, absently petting him. The only one that might have it beat is the Legion’s medbay, but he’s been significantly more terrified about who might’ve died each time he’d woken up there.

As he hasn’t been re-sedated and can crane his head into Querl’s hand like a drowsy cat, this may just squeak it out.

Robbie makes an affirmative but not invested noise at the prognosis. He’s starting to get an even more over-inflated sense of how much punishment his body can take, and as he woke up feeling his toes, he’d assumed he was fine. ]

Mm. Start with how blood loss makes blood pressure go up ‘cause there’s less and so no Bernoodles.

[ He means that Bernoulli’s principle, which applies to speed and pressure in tight areas, won’t kick in, but math and physics aren’t his thing even when he’s not coming off anesthesia. Robbie also has no idea if it applies to human biology. ]

Then I have to say sorry I was late, and then sorry that I said sorry without the flowers and chocolate routine.

[ He’s trying to demonstrate alertness, so Brainy has less work to do, but it’s slurred and rambling. ]

Bernoodles doesn't apply.

[He got what he was trying to say.]

Your blood pressure was very low by the time you got into surgery. They overmedicated slightly with vasoconstrictors to get your blood pressure back up. Now that they've replaced the missing volume with donor blood and fluids, your body needs time to flush the drugs out of your system and they didn't want to risk medicating you again and going too low.

[Robbie had definitely gone through a bit of a seesaw there.]

You don't have to say you're sorry. What happened wasn't your fault.

[His eyes actually tear up, something that doesn't happen often.]

But I do wish your point about how difficult it was to watch me come to harm had been made without a practical demonstration.

[The petting is less absent now. It is active and yet still as gentle as ever.]

You're not allowed to engage in a repeat performance. I forbid it.

[ That sounds not so bad, right? He didn’t hear anything like “you’re down to 1 kidney” or “perforated intestines leaking poop”, so he thinks he’s gotten off comparatively easy.

Robbie glances down at his stomach. Although he can’t see the bandages or stitches, their presence is known with a constant low level thrum of pain. Comparatively easy, because he’s pretty sure he still technically has an extra hole in his body - does this count as being torn a new one? He remembers how the spear looked, coming, stabbing and through. Yeah... that counts.

He blinks a few times until the memory stops overlapping reality. Thank god for painkillers greasing the rails for his train of thought. ]

I’m still sorry. This wasn’t the plan... okay, there wasn’t a plan. I mean - there was a plan to patrol and then find you and say I liked you, but there wasn’t a battle plan that went step 4, stand between Rogue and a serial killer, step 5, Speedball gets impaled. She was just so fast...

[ What he wants is to fully embrace this new rule. Querl says he’s forbidden him to be hurt, and Robbie wants to give him that. Not being hurt would be really great, actually, because then he could help them take the redheaded queen of hammerspace.

Which is completely counterintuitive to accepting that practical demonstrations of physical harm are forbidden by boyfriend decree. ]

So I’ll... try. I’ll do the theories, you do the lab work. Ugh, no, that sucks more.

[ He’s trying to dodge promising so the universe doesn’t make him a liar. It’s going to happen again. Brainy’s a huge motivator, and a boundary that would keep him from crying is appealing. Offering to try is already a significant compromise, as Robbie thinks trying doesn’t matter after the results are in and you’re vomiting shadows or missing a limb or whatever.

A promise simply wouldn’t work. They’re in the wrong career, and quitting wouldn’t solve anything. It’s not like civilian means safe, but none of that will make Querl stop looking at him like that. ]

There’s always an Arquillian Battle Cruiser, or a Koralian death ray, or an intergalactic plague...

I know you can't really promise it. I just needed to try to speak it into being.

[It was irrational and emotional but he needed to let it out.]

[Robbie can't stop the crying. There's really nothing he could've promised or said. This is new territory for Querl, this caring, and that means he can't navigate with much emotional control. It's at least quiet. Querl's eyes close and a few tears silently stream down.]

Glotfelty and the other emergency doctors were nowhere to be found so I had to step forward. I've had recent medic training and standard Coluan education includes a xenobiological medicine module equivalent to medical school. I didn't engage in a residency but I passed the practicum on holographic patients when I was nine.

[He finally opens his eyes, his watery gaze sharpened to laser focus.]

You were the least injured, so I had to triage you to be treated last. I knew it was what you would've wanted. I knew you'd be upset if I treated you first at the expense of Rogue and Saturday.

That didn't make it any easier.

[The hand that had been petting his hair now cups Robbie's face.]

You like me, and I'm delighted. But you know how much I enjoy always being a few steps ahead of everyone. So I want to say that I care deeply for you, even just as my dear friend.

[He wants Robbie to know he inhabits the same space as others he loves, like Jazmin and Ayla and Shikari and Lyle. He wants him to know that eve just as a friend he is a beloved fixture in his life.]

I would encase you in inertron if I could, but since I can't, I want you to always carry that with you.

[ Oh. Right, Brainy would know better than him that it can’t be promised, but that means Robbie’s thrown Brainy out of his logical rationale and into something normal, selfish, and more free. Ordinarily, he’s thrilled to derail him and get a real belly laugh or something that doesn’t involve work.

But this - this wasn’t something he’d banked on, and Robbie doesn’t know how to fix it. There’s no band-aid for losing friends or realizing that you might.

He cringes when he realizes that decision was made by Brainy. No wonder he’s still here. That had to have been weighing on Querl for... however long Robbie’s been out.

Robbie reached up and lays his hand over Querl’s. ]

I know you know, but you did the right thing.

[ He just needs Brainy to hear it said with respect and admiration, even if he doesn’t sound peppy. Brainy did good, and Robbie’s still here. ]

But - not just as a dear friend?

[ He’s muddled and unsure, but he’s operating with reduced introspection and thought-to-mouth filtration so the confusion escapes. ]

Grife, Brainy! I finally catch up and think, oh, wow, I’m all kinds of defensive and protective about Querl to the new guy and biting my tongue to not use ”and I really like him so shut up” as an argument and there’s no squirming emotional backwash, and I can’t even tell you about the breakthrough before you move the goalposts?

[ He may be zeroing in on caring deeply and misinterpreting, because Robbie has out Querl on equal footing with Robbie’s oldest friends for quite some time now. He hasn’t told him that, but he only told Vance that he was Robbie’s best friend after that stupid Legion Legacies video aired. They’re too cool for friendship bracelets. ]

But - I know. I think I knew, I was making the worst puns because I wanted you to know I was okay. Even if I wasn’t. But I am, so... we’re good.

[ They are good, right? They like each other. They’re sort of holding hands. All of this points to things being good. People don’t cry over him; this is very much new territory, and Robbie’s worn out people’s affection before. He retreats to joking around, because that’s a known quantity. ]

Except you don’t know the alien’s supposed to encase the space hero in carbonite.

Real life isn't that Space War movie.

[He's vaguely familiar but not familiar enough to get it right, largely thanks to Kon.]

And you will need to get used to me sometimes being a step ahead, you know. It's not a bad thing. If you're ever unsure about our - our relationship -

[That is what it is, a relationship. Something different than friendship. It's time to start putting words to it. Maybe not full boyfriend labels, but it is something different from friendship.]

- perhaps this means sometimes I'll have already broken ground.

[He already knows Robbie is unsure. He knows he worries about whether he's imposing. But if Querl's sometimes a step ahead, if he's expressed a slightly new level of emotion, of affection, Robbie will know it's okay if he eventually reaches the same conclusion. That it's mutual.]

[On uncertain ground, sometimes someone has to start teetering their way over it with careful steps first.]

[He keeps his hand on Robbie's face, enjoys the feeling of Robbie's fingers over his own. And then kisses him on the cheek, gently, sweetly.]

If it was that Star Wars movie, you wouldn’t be interested in me if I wasn’t wearing a gold bikini.

[ He’s not trying a hand at flirting, just trying to keep it from being too much for either of them. Robbie doesn’t want to see Querl cry more than he has. ]

I’m sure I like you. I’m sure it’s a relationship.

[ Now that the R word has been floated, Robbie will run with it. He won’t miss the ambiguity.

They’re in a relationship. That’s a thing that just happened. A dopey look breaks across Robbie’s face that has nothing to do with the medication, and only deepens when Querl lays one on his cheek.

Luckily, no one’s paying enough attention to catcall, so Robbie is left flushed but comfortable. He turns his head to kiss Brainy’s cheek too, before he can move away. ]

And... I’m sure we just won somebody’s betting pool. That’s enough to go on. If you’re ahead of me... let me know. Send up some smoke signals, mouth the words and I’ll lip read.

[ He is looking very pointedly at Brainy’s mouth, and runs his teeth over his own bottom lip. ]

Might have to be real up close until we get the hang of it.

[Brainy arches an eyebrow.]

It's patently unfair that you're able to be this charming while injured and half-sedated.

[It was a good line.]

But I already knew I was in trouble.

[With the hand that was cupping his cheek, Brainy brushes his thumb lightly against his lips.]

I’m charming because I’m half-sedated.

[ He’s freer with his words because there’s a bit more space to dip a toe into the flirting waters and see what the reaction to his attempts would be.

It feels good to be taken seriously and to get a response that isn’t exasperation or swatting. Just a little reward. ]

How are you in trouble? You haven’t done anything wrong.

[ Robbie’s speaking very quietly, like that would somehow limit how much his lips move against Brainy’s thumb. ]

You’re in charge. Just make new rules. If it’s trouble, we’re doing that wrong.

[His thumb still rests against the corner of Robbie's mouth, and his index finger traces the line of his jaw.]

[His gaze, though, remains locked on Robbie's, sharp and intense.]

There are good varieties of trouble, you know.

[He's pretty habitual about purposefully engaging in or wreaking some kind of chaos.]

[Being in over his head dealing with wild new feelings is one he's actually looking forward to, even though it was a state of being he hated in the past. Neither of them really knows where this is going and that's okay.]

[That's more than okay, that's appealing. It's an adventure. One likely to lead to good places, outside circumstances permitting.]

I don't know what's going to happen next between us, just that I look forward to finding out.

Maybe I want to be in this kind of trouble.

[ He’s being drawn out of his comfort zone, but slowly and pleasantly. Brainy is just easing open the door and letting temptation do the rest. ]

Ooh, the good kind of trouble? That’s new. I’m going to need a leather jacket.

[ Robbie turns his head and kisses at Brainy’s thumb, because it’s there, warm and inviting. But he doesn’t purse his lips much, to bake in some plausible deniability if it’s too sentimental. ]

Faux, because I’m the good kind of trouble in the 31st century, and I want you to want to be in -

[ Yikes, this metaphor has suddenly gotten very hubba hubba. ]

The good kind of trouble with me. Whatever that turns out to be. And I’ll try to stay out of the bad kind until we figure it out.

[ He gives Brainy a slow smile and waves a hand around to indicate the Rig. ]

This doesn’t count as me getting in trouble, because you’re here too. Staying out of bad trouble doesn’t start until we’re home.

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