He knows that’s not how it works, but privately, Quinlan thanks the Force for acknowledging that it’s their first morning of leave. He wakes slow and sleep-warm, stretched out on his stomach with Faie’s hand on his arm and sun streaming through the window.
For the first time in nearly six months, he’s not exhausted. He’s not in immediate danger, either, or cold or hurt or wet or hungry or anything other than sleepily content. He stretches, hums, rolls up onto his side to watch Faie. He’s always gorgeous, but so rarely does he let his guard down enough for Quinlan to see him cute.
He’s cute now, fast asleep and drooling on the pillow, curls sticking up every which way. The little frown he’s always got in the field, even asleep, is gone now, and Quinlan follows the line of his nose down to his freckled cheeks.
Faie stirs, huffing out a tiny squeak of a sound, and Quinlan cannot resist the urge to touch. He reaches out and strokes the bridge of his nose all the way up to his hair, soft enough to avoid startling but firm enough not to tickle. Faie makes the noise again and turns into Quinlan’s hand, breathing shifting as he wakes up.
“Good morning, dollface,” Quinlan smiles, rubbing the bridge of his nose once more before tangling his fingers in his hair and scratching at his scalp.
Faie gets about as far as opening his eyes before he slams the closed again with a choked-off groan.
“Oh, hon,” Quinlan murmurs, tugging him closer. Faie goes willingly, curling into his chest and clutching at his shirt. Quinlan can feel the tension on him, enough to hurt. “Bad day?”
Faie just keens, soft and pained, into Quinlan’s chest.
“Okay. It’s okay. We’ve got nowhere to be today.” He rubs a hand up and down Faie’s back, pushing warmth and healing into the place where his hips’s been destroyed a half-dozen times. Nothing need be said about the hot tears soaking through his shirt. “Can you go back to sleep?”
“Don’t think so,” Faie rasps.
“Alright. I’m going to go get you some painkillers. I’ll be right back.” He gives Faie one last pulse of Force-warmth before beginning to disentangle himself, leaving Faie to press his face into the pillows and try not to make anything worse.
Faie doesn’t move in the five minutes it takes Quinlan to grab some of Faie’s meds, a glass of water, and a quickly-toasted bagel. He’s face-down in the pillows and white-knuckling the quilt and he barely reacts when Quinlan sits down next to him.
“Alright, dollface, let’s get you medicated.” He rubs Faie’s back again before nudging at his shoulder until he starts the painful process of rolling over. Quinlan does his best to help with a hand on his shoulder and another on his hip, but the noise Faie makes still breaks his heart. “I know, Faie, I know.”
He’s not crying anymore, but the way his face is screwed up is just as damning. He curses when Quinlan pulls him upright and props him against the headboard, but turns his nose up at the pills Quinlan offers him. “Two?”
Quinlan sighs. “That’s the dosage, Faie. They’re powerful meds.”
Faie looks at him. Quinlan looks back, unflinching. He grew up with Luminara Unduli: it takes a lot more than a good glare to scare him. After a long moment, Faie relents, taking the meds and then the water. He goes to lie back down, but Quinlan stops him.
“Gotta eat something with ‘em,” he reminds Faie, prodding him with the edge of the plate. “It’s joji fruit,” he tempts.
Faie wrinkles his nose, but takes the closer half, biting into it without breaking his glare. Quinlan kisses the top of his head and he bristles like an indignant tooka. Bad days always make him… reticent. Broody. Unwilling to give affection and unable to accept it. Pain and PTSD make for poor bunkmates. Quinlan cuddles closer as he eats, letting Faie slot himself against his side and move some of his weight from his aching body over to Quinlan.
When first they began fucking? dating? sharing a bed? Quinlan wasn’t permitted to be there for flare-ups. Actually, scratch that. At first, Quinlan didn’t know about the flare-ups. Oh, he suspected. He knew Faie had chronic pain, knew some days were worse than others, but Faie hid it from him. There were days then, at the beginning, when Faie would disappear and come back quiet and withdrawn, holding himself stiffly. Quinlan would ask and he would ignore. Quinlan would offer heating pads and Faie would deny his pain entirely.
Slowly, Faie had begun to trust him. Slowly, Faie stopped being afraid. Finally, one night, Faie came to him late, leaning against the wall outside his door like he could hardly hold himself up. ‘It’s too much to sleep,’ he said then, ‘and Pinch won’t give me anything else tonight.’
That night, Quinlan hadn’t been able to do much more than sit by Faie and serve as a distraction. Faie didn’t want touch, so Quinlan read to him. Faie couldn’t make himself reach out, too afraid to ask for something he didn’t think he deserved, so Quinlan didn’t take anything he couldn’t give.
Faie bumps his head against Quinlan’s chin. Quinlan hums. Faie does it again, more insistent this time, and rubs nearly hard enough to knock Quinlan off balance.
“Faie, what…?” he laughs, pushing back, gentle.
“Scratch.”
“Hmm?”
Another bite of bagel, another bump. “Scratch.”
Oh. Oh. Quinlan laughs, bright and loud and happy, tangling his hands in Faie’s hair. The bagel plate is quickly abandoned as Faie purrs, pressing closer, turning to putty in Quinlan’s hands. Quinlan turns to hold him chest to chest, spreading both hands over his scalp. “Feels good, doll?”
“Mmyeah,” Faie breathes, slumping forward. He’s still hurting, though, and his breath hitches into a whine when Quinlan tries to pull him into his lap. “Shit.”
“Can you give me a number?” Quinlan asks.
“Seven.” Faie whines again, tensing against some new spike of pain. “Pills aren’t going to work.”
Quinlan keeps up scratching his scalp. “Give them a chance?”
Faie scoffs. “Like I have a choice.” He curls closer. “I can’t… It hurts. I can’t move.”
Quinlan is quiet for a moment. “Do you want to try something? It might help.”
Faie grunts.
“If you want, I could give you a massage.”
Faie pulls away, blinking up at him. “What?”
Quinlan's face goes hot, suddenly embarrassed. “I have, you know, scented oil and stuff. I know how to give massages. If you’re in pain, it might help.”
Faie’s voice is tight. “I’ll try— shit —I’ll try anything at this fuckin’ point.”
“Oh, fuck,” Faie moans, arching into Quinlan’s hands. “Oh, fuckin’ shab, Quin, don’t stop.”
Faie’s practically a puddle underneath him, naked as the day he was born and shining with teakwood oil and sweat. Quinlan wants to lick him. He refrains, though, choosing instead to take advantage of his spot perched on Faie’s hips to work back over the worst of the knots on his back. He moans again and Quinlan laughs.
“Enjoying yourself down there?” All he gets in response is an incoherent moan, so Quinlan shifts positions, turning to face the other way and starting in on Faie’s hips and legs.
Quinlan goes gentle over his left hip, but Faie still tenses underneath him, squirming like he’s trying to get away and swearing a blue streak. Soon enough, though, the pain gives way to pleasure and Quinlan moves on to the next spot.
“You’ve been, ohgods, you’ve been holding out on my, Vos,” Faie pants as Quinlan works over his thighs.
Quinlan digs his thumbs into Faie’s hamstring, grinning when he squeaks. “Wasn’t sure you could handle it, Commander.”
Oil drips down towards the sheets and Quinlan catches it on his thumb, smears it back up Faie’s thigh and over his ass, kneading the muscle. Faie sighs. A hand comes up and catches Quinlan’s, squeezing, and he smiles. Good. If he can get his shoulder around that far, then this is helping.
For a long while, there is no talking, just Faie’s increasingly relaxed sighs and moans and the susurration of skin over skin. Quinlan goes over his whole body three times, rubbing deeper with each pass. Faie just soaks it all up, leaning into his hands and radiating contentment into the Force.
It’s not a perfect solution, of course. Many of Faie’s aches are bone-deep, not mere tension, and pushing too hard makes some things worse. It’s something, though. Something to take the edge off, to work in tandem with the meds that should be in full effect by now.
Faie seems to agree. Quinlan’s running his hands over his mid back when Faie flips them, bucking his hips up and throwing Quinlan off-balance enough to grab him and pin him to the bed and oh, he’s a sight like this, flushed and sweaty and smiling down at him like Quinlan’s all the sunniest skies in the galaxy.
“Hi,” Quinlan laughs, pushing up against Faie’s hands. They don’t give at all. “You seem to be feeling better.”
Faie ducks down to kiss him, teasing and quick. “Just a bit.” The next kiss is longer and sharper and when Faie settles on top of Quinlan, there’s an entirely new sort of tension in every limb. He bites Quinlan’s lip and murmurs, “Let me return the favor,” into his mouth.
“Be my guest.”
Faie grins and Quinlan feels it in his bones.