awake for just a few more minutes.
Hold out your hands and squeeze my fingers." Danny felt uncoordinated as he did this.
"My fingers feel funky."
"You're exhibiting seizure-like symptoms," Peter replied.
"Huh? That's bad isn't it?"
"I'm not sure. I'm going to be really overcautious and sit here with you for a few hours while you sleep. I think your nervous system tripped a few breakers."
Danny decided this sounded bad but he couldn't get his head around how bad, or if Peter was protecting him from something worse.
Peter stretched out on the bed beside him and pulled Danny tightly against his body. "It's okay. I'll take care of you," he whispered.
Danny buried his face in Peter's shoulder and let himself slide into sleep.
***
Fourteen hours was a pretty damn long time to sleep.
Peter was relieved when Danny finally woke and stumbled off to the bathroom. Danny came back and sat on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through his hair.
"Damn, it looks like afternoon. How long was I out?"
Danny asked.
"Nearly fourteen hours. You still tired?"
"Um, yeah. Shit, I haven't felt this wiped out after being up for forty-eight hours. If I wasn't starving I'd think about crawling back in bed."
"Then do so, but strip first. I want to test your reflexes head to toes. While you undress I'll go grab you some food from the cafeteria," Peter said. Despite the fact he'd played watchdog over Danny while he slept, Peter was still concerned. CNS problems were sometimes very hard to fix. A brutal vision of watching his father die by inches from ALS tore through Peter's head. The memory shook him and he was hard pressed not to grab Danny and hold him very tightly.
"I think I can manage to walk to the other end of the building. You can do the reflex thing after we grab some food," Danny objected.
"No. I want you in bed. I watched you walk to the bathroom and back. Your coordination sucks big time. It may just be postictal to the episode yesterday; I'm trying to figure it out."
"Post-ictal? That makes me sound like a dead fish,"
replied Danny and he rolled his eyes.
Peter cupped his hands around Danny's face. "That's
'ichthy'. Please. Humor me. I'm worried." He kissed Danny softly.
***
All the neurological tests were normal. Danny ate the sandwich and salad that Peter brought him. It satisfied the hunger, but he still felt dead tired. It just made no sense that he could sleep that long and still feel exhausted. He was stretched out in the bed again, this time buck naked under the sheets. He could feel the concern seeping from Peter, and that bothered him.
"Wake me up in about a week," he teased, trying to lighten the tension a little.
"Crap. Don't joke about that. I keep wondering if I missed something," said Peter. "Fuck it. Scoot over. I'm going to be your shadow until I'm sure you're okay." He ditched all his clothes on the floor beside the bed and slid in next to Danny. Peter wrapped an arm across Danny's chest. "Go to sleep."
Danny brushed a finger across his lover's lips. "Talk to me. Tell me why you're so bent out shape. I've seen you with your hands inside people guts, holding back death until they can get to surgery. Why is this wigging you out so badly?" He rolled over enough to place a careful kiss on Peter's mouth. This wasn't like Peter to be so close to distraught.
"My dad died of a really aggressive form of ALS. I watched him die, day by day. Every night I poured every ounce of energy I had left into him, trying to stop it, trying to fix him, trying just to slow it down. I made every mistake in the book and ended up unconscious of the floor of my math class. I was in a coma for three days. And during those three days, my father died.
Whatever I was doing for him was all that was holding him on this side of the veil. The problem was I nearly killed myself trying to save him."
Danny's heart hurt with the grief of Peter's admission.
"How old were you?" he asked.
"Sixteen."
Danny didn't know what to say.
Hold out your hands and squeeze my fingers." Danny felt uncoordinated as he did this.
"My fingers feel funky."
"You're exhibiting seizure-like symptoms," Peter replied.
"Huh? That's bad isn't it?"
"I'm not sure. I'm going to be really overcautious and sit here with you for a few hours while you sleep. I think your nervous system tripped a few breakers."
Danny decided this sounded bad but he couldn't get his head around how bad, or if Peter was protecting him from something worse.
Peter stretched out on the bed beside him and pulled Danny tightly against his body. "It's okay. I'll take care of you," he whispered.
Danny buried his face in Peter's shoulder and let himself slide into sleep.
***
Fourteen hours was a pretty damn long time to sleep.
Peter was relieved when Danny finally woke and stumbled off to the bathroom. Danny came back and sat on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through his hair.
"Damn, it looks like afternoon. How long was I out?"
Danny asked.
"Nearly fourteen hours. You still tired?"
"Um, yeah. Shit, I haven't felt this wiped out after being up for forty-eight hours. If I wasn't starving I'd think about crawling back in bed."
"Then do so, but strip first. I want to test your reflexes head to toes. While you undress I'll go grab you some food from the cafeteria," Peter said. Despite the fact he'd played watchdog over Danny while he slept, Peter was still concerned. CNS problems were sometimes very hard to fix. A brutal vision of watching his father die by inches from ALS tore through Peter's head. The memory shook him and he was hard pressed not to grab Danny and hold him very tightly.
"I think I can manage to walk to the other end of the building. You can do the reflex thing after we grab some food," Danny objected.
"No. I want you in bed. I watched you walk to the bathroom and back. Your coordination sucks big time. It may just be postictal to the episode yesterday; I'm trying to figure it out."
"Post-ictal? That makes me sound like a dead fish,"
replied Danny and he rolled his eyes.
Peter cupped his hands around Danny's face. "That's
'ichthy'. Please. Humor me. I'm worried." He kissed Danny softly.
***
All the neurological tests were normal. Danny ate the sandwich and salad that Peter brought him. It satisfied the hunger, but he still felt dead tired. It just made no sense that he could sleep that long and still feel exhausted. He was stretched out in the bed again, this time buck naked under the sheets. He could feel the concern seeping from Peter, and that bothered him.
"Wake me up in about a week," he teased, trying to lighten the tension a little.
"Crap. Don't joke about that. I keep wondering if I missed something," said Peter. "Fuck it. Scoot over. I'm going to be your shadow until I'm sure you're okay." He ditched all his clothes on the floor beside the bed and slid in next to Danny. Peter wrapped an arm across Danny's chest. "Go to sleep."
Danny brushed a finger across his lover's lips. "Talk to me. Tell me why you're so bent out shape. I've seen you with your hands inside people guts, holding back death until they can get to surgery. Why is this wigging you out so badly?" He rolled over enough to place a careful kiss on Peter's mouth. This wasn't like Peter to be so close to distraught.
"My dad died of a really aggressive form of ALS. I watched him die, day by day. Every night I poured every ounce of energy I had left into him, trying to stop it, trying to fix him, trying just to slow it down. I made every mistake in the book and ended up unconscious of the floor of my math class. I was in a coma for three days. And during those three days, my father died.
Whatever I was doing for him was all that was holding him on this side of the veil. The problem was I nearly killed myself trying to save him."
Danny's heart hurt with the grief of Peter's admission.
"How old were you?" he asked.
"Sixteen."
Danny didn't know what to say.
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