Ficlet: Just a Shower 10/13 (George/Lee)
Nov. 29th, 2008 03:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seedeeTitle: Just a Shower
Pairing: George/Lee
Prompt: 10/13: Pontification
Rating: Light R for some cursing
Word Count: 990
Summary: It's been four days. A shower can't hurt.
Link to Prompt Table: here
previous: 9. splat
Sometimes Lee wished he was still unconscious. His back was hurting and he hadn't been out of bed for more than a few minutes at a time. Since he'd woken up four days earlier, there had always been someone in his room. On one memorable occasion even Aunt Muriel herself. She'd called him a shortsighted vagrant whose legs were too skinny for running fast. Lee had fallen in love with the woman instantly.
Now he was alone for the first time. George and Fred were in the basement, starting up their owl order business. It was blissfully quiet.
Lee kept looking at the open door. He could see the bathroom. So far he hadn't been allowed to shower yet, but he was sweaty and sticky, would give everything for some running water instead of cleaning charms and flannels. He already had nightmares about flannels.
The wound on his back wasn't open anymore. A thick, jagged pink line was left, marring his dark skin. What was hurting and yet had to heal was the damage done to tissue and muscles underneath the skin. So a shower couldn't hurt, right?
Technically Lee wasn't allowed to get up alone. Under no circumstances, Mrs. Weasley had said. But really, the bathroom was right there and if he was quick, no one would ever know.
Before he had time to reconsider - he didn't know when Fred or George would decide to check on him - he started to move. Slowly he inched towards the edge of the bed, his lower lip between his teeth, biting hard to keep himself from groaning. He pushed himself up sideways with one arm. He'd done it before, so he knew it was the part that hurt the most. Lee's eyes watered and he muttered a litany of curses, but eventually he was sitting, his feet touching the floor. His shirt was clinging to his back and he reached back with one hand, only to discover that this time it was only sweat. Lee gave himself a minute to recover and took a few deep breaths.
The bedpost came in handy when he stood up. Lee clutched at it as he felt dizzy and swayed on the spot. It got better after a few moments, and even though a tortoise could have outrun him easily, he walked to the bathroom step by step, giddy when he was finally there. He leaned heavily on the sink, panting and trying to take some pressure off his back.
At first he ignored the signs - cold sweat, black spots around the edges of his vision, the sick feeling in his stomach. He concentrated on breathing instead. But the room started spinning and lying down on the cool tiles suddenly seemed like a brilliant idea. Nevertheless, Lee was holding onto the sink, as he knew that even though the floor looked inviting, his back wouldn't appreciate the descent.
"Oh for fuck's sake, Jordan. You must be kidding me." The irate voice belonged to Fred.
Lee's friend was there in an instant. Fred supported him, kept him from falling down with a firm grip around Lee's middle. It wasn't gentle, but Fred avoided putting any pressure on Lee's back.
"Hang on. Two steps behind you is the toilet. Sit down. If you pass out, I'll hex you."
Lee didn't pass out, mostly thanks to Fred who sat him down, summoned one of the potions Mrs. Weasley had left and held Lee upright until his head and vision cleared and the room stopped spinning.
Fred looked murderous. "Explain. This," he demanded.
Lee felt small and pathetic. "I just wanted a shower," he whined. He might have to kill himself later, but right now he wanted to curl up in a corner and cry. "Just a bloody shower."
"And why didn't you ask one of us?" Fred snapped.
Lee shrugged. He thought it was obvious.
Fred ran one hand through his hair. "Can you stand?" he asked more kindly.
Lee nodded. He wasn't at all sure if he could stand, but he wouldn't give up the last shred of his dignity.
"Show me." Lee took Fred's outstretched hand and got up from the edge of the tub. It was easier than he'd thought - mostly due to the potion, he assumed - and soon he was standing on his own feet.
Fred pulled back the shower curtain. "Go take your shower. But don't fall or hurt yourself. I'll wait right here. If there's any problem, let me know."
Lee closed his eyes when Fred had to help him out of his clothes and into the shower. The words made him almost smile, though. "Yes, Mrs. Weasley," he answered.
Fred chuckled. "Shut up, or I'll give you the big lecture. The one involving words like irresponsible, irrational, irreverent."
Lee nearly moaned as warm water was pouring down on him. "Irresistible," he added.
There was a pause. "Are you talking about George now?" Fred asked. Lee heard the smirk.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Lee had found some soap and started to clean himself without moving too much. He had tried not to think about holding hands - or lack thereof - in the last days. After those few minutes of sharing something, George had gone back to being the best friend he'd always been.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about. The two of you are worse than Ron and Hermione. I can't watch it anymore, it's embarrassing." Lee did his best to block him out, humming quietly. "Are you listening? What are you waiting for? And don't give me that crap about best friends. You're the reasonable one, George is the slightly less insane one, and I'm just Fred. I'm the one who blows things up. If you rely on me sorting this mess out, you're thoroughly fucked."
Lee still pretended not to listen.
"You're a Gryffindor, mate, do something."
next: 11. tinkering
Pairing: George/Lee
Prompt: 10/13: Pontification
Rating: Light R for some cursing
Word Count: 990
Summary: It's been four days. A shower can't hurt.
Link to Prompt Table: here
previous: 9. splat
Sometimes Lee wished he was still unconscious. His back was hurting and he hadn't been out of bed for more than a few minutes at a time. Since he'd woken up four days earlier, there had always been someone in his room. On one memorable occasion even Aunt Muriel herself. She'd called him a shortsighted vagrant whose legs were too skinny for running fast. Lee had fallen in love with the woman instantly.
Now he was alone for the first time. George and Fred were in the basement, starting up their owl order business. It was blissfully quiet.
Lee kept looking at the open door. He could see the bathroom. So far he hadn't been allowed to shower yet, but he was sweaty and sticky, would give everything for some running water instead of cleaning charms and flannels. He already had nightmares about flannels.
The wound on his back wasn't open anymore. A thick, jagged pink line was left, marring his dark skin. What was hurting and yet had to heal was the damage done to tissue and muscles underneath the skin. So a shower couldn't hurt, right?
Technically Lee wasn't allowed to get up alone. Under no circumstances, Mrs. Weasley had said. But really, the bathroom was right there and if he was quick, no one would ever know.
Before he had time to reconsider - he didn't know when Fred or George would decide to check on him - he started to move. Slowly he inched towards the edge of the bed, his lower lip between his teeth, biting hard to keep himself from groaning. He pushed himself up sideways with one arm. He'd done it before, so he knew it was the part that hurt the most. Lee's eyes watered and he muttered a litany of curses, but eventually he was sitting, his feet touching the floor. His shirt was clinging to his back and he reached back with one hand, only to discover that this time it was only sweat. Lee gave himself a minute to recover and took a few deep breaths.
The bedpost came in handy when he stood up. Lee clutched at it as he felt dizzy and swayed on the spot. It got better after a few moments, and even though a tortoise could have outrun him easily, he walked to the bathroom step by step, giddy when he was finally there. He leaned heavily on the sink, panting and trying to take some pressure off his back.
At first he ignored the signs - cold sweat, black spots around the edges of his vision, the sick feeling in his stomach. He concentrated on breathing instead. But the room started spinning and lying down on the cool tiles suddenly seemed like a brilliant idea. Nevertheless, Lee was holding onto the sink, as he knew that even though the floor looked inviting, his back wouldn't appreciate the descent.
"Oh for fuck's sake, Jordan. You must be kidding me." The irate voice belonged to Fred.
Lee's friend was there in an instant. Fred supported him, kept him from falling down with a firm grip around Lee's middle. It wasn't gentle, but Fred avoided putting any pressure on Lee's back.
"Hang on. Two steps behind you is the toilet. Sit down. If you pass out, I'll hex you."
Lee didn't pass out, mostly thanks to Fred who sat him down, summoned one of the potions Mrs. Weasley had left and held Lee upright until his head and vision cleared and the room stopped spinning.
Fred looked murderous. "Explain. This," he demanded.
Lee felt small and pathetic. "I just wanted a shower," he whined. He might have to kill himself later, but right now he wanted to curl up in a corner and cry. "Just a bloody shower."
"And why didn't you ask one of us?" Fred snapped.
Lee shrugged. He thought it was obvious.
Fred ran one hand through his hair. "Can you stand?" he asked more kindly.
Lee nodded. He wasn't at all sure if he could stand, but he wouldn't give up the last shred of his dignity.
"Show me." Lee took Fred's outstretched hand and got up from the edge of the tub. It was easier than he'd thought - mostly due to the potion, he assumed - and soon he was standing on his own feet.
Fred pulled back the shower curtain. "Go take your shower. But don't fall or hurt yourself. I'll wait right here. If there's any problem, let me know."
Lee closed his eyes when Fred had to help him out of his clothes and into the shower. The words made him almost smile, though. "Yes, Mrs. Weasley," he answered.
Fred chuckled. "Shut up, or I'll give you the big lecture. The one involving words like irresponsible, irrational, irreverent."
Lee nearly moaned as warm water was pouring down on him. "Irresistible," he added.
There was a pause. "Are you talking about George now?" Fred asked. Lee heard the smirk.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Lee had found some soap and started to clean himself without moving too much. He had tried not to think about holding hands - or lack thereof - in the last days. After those few minutes of sharing something, George had gone back to being the best friend he'd always been.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about. The two of you are worse than Ron and Hermione. I can't watch it anymore, it's embarrassing." Lee did his best to block him out, humming quietly. "Are you listening? What are you waiting for? And don't give me that crap about best friends. You're the reasonable one, George is the slightly less insane one, and I'm just Fred. I'm the one who blows things up. If you rely on me sorting this mess out, you're thoroughly fucked."
Lee still pretended not to listen.
"You're a Gryffindor, mate, do something."
next: 11. tinkering