2012-12-03: I Don't Like You Hurt


Quenton_icon.jpg Shane_icon.jpg

Summary: Quenton comes to visit Shane in the medbay

Date: December 3, 2012

Log Title: I Don't Like You Hurt

Rating: R

Xavier Mansion - Medical Bay

The Medical Bay contains the latest medical equipment to patch up students and X-Men with the smallest and worst injuries. Six beds line the walls for injured patients. Equipment lines the walls, medicine in the cabinets, and more serious medical supplies locked in cabinets. One this about this room it screams sterilization.

There was a lot of ruckus upstairs about Quenton throwing crap around in his destroyed room. And then some yelling. And some cursing. And then an elevator opening. And then Q stepping out of it and muttering to himself as he sprints into the medbay and peers about. The first bed he goes for is Shane's, though the beds of his few friends are given quick once overs with crimson eyes.

Shane seems to be… relatively okay, considering. The bed is raised to a seated position, her (rather scuffed) armored headphones clapped over her ears, the wire training to what looks like a brand-new PS Vita. The moment she sees Quenton, however, the game is paused, the headphones stripped off, eliciting a sharp wince as she moves just the wrong way to cause a flare of pain from her hip. Still, however, she manages a tight, but genuine smile. "Hey," she says, as the pain recedes, "sup?"

"Shit," Quenton mutters, grimacing. "I got the message the school was on lockdown and didn't show up when curfew was set. I uh… had to some things over in Mutant Town." Like get into trouble. He didn't draw attention and didn't hurt anyone, though. That's a big step for Q. "Fuck. If I was here, you probably wouldn't have been hurt." He leans forward and as delicately as he can kisses Shane's temple. "What happened? I mean, I know what happened, but what happened to -you-?"

Shane raises her arms to loop them over Quenton's neck, squeezing slightly, and chuckles. "Soon's they were takin' everyone underground, I skipped out. Knew they were comin', was hopin' f'r somethin' t'give the boot t' payback what they did t'you. Jesus, you shoulda seen it, Q… Fuckin' cyborg kinda things, blastin' th'fuck outta anything they saw. Taylor got it way worse'n I did, though… I just popped out my leg again, got a couple fractures here'n there."

"I wish I was here," Quenton murmurs, drawing out an exhale. "Shit. Setinels. No actual Purifiers, just 'borgs?" he asks, and his hand goes up, touching Shane's back gently, though he doesn't dare squeeze her close. "I'm real sorry. Shit." His eyes flit over to Taylor's bed a moment and he grimaces. "Fuck. Well. I'm here now." (FIX'D)

"Hey," Shane says, leaning her head up to kiss QUenton's cheek, "ain't all bad. How many people get t'say they crotch-punted a cyborg 'n survived, right?" A shadow passes over her face, and she leans her head against his arm. "…Brought me my headphones, though… told me my closet got just wrecked. Jus' m' laptop 'n a couple of m'plushies survived…" Drawing in a deep breath, she lets it out in a gust. "Fuck… ain't lookin' forward t'startin everything all over…"

"My laptop survived, too, but it has that indestructible thing going for it." Quenton sits down next to Shane, his arms slipping about her waist, though he lets her be the one doing all the squeezing. "Awesome that you crotch punted a cyborg," he tells her, though he's still sounding worried. "Sage's stuff got burnt. Sucked hard." He nudges his forehead against hers. "Don't start over, then. Just make a bunch of new stuff. Like, stuff you haven't done before. You know. Like a Mercer vest for me."

"I *liked* lotta th'shit that got ruined," Shane grumbles. "Like th'Vincent gear, an' the maid, an' that armored-Lulu thing that won me th'prize at Comic-Con… An' Ms. Frost's dress 'n that shitty-lookin' plush I made f'r her, onea th'Sentinel things got knocked into 'er place 'n blew up."

"Frost probably got over that shit the day before she lost it," Quenton shoots, though he still looks over Shane's face as she complains about her losses. "And yeah. You did look adorable dressed as Vincent. I'm sorry you lost the stuff," he mumbles.

"….I really hope not," Shane whispers. It's clear, by the sound of things, what she made for Ms. Frost meant as much to her as the Headmistress, if not more. But a moment later, she sniffles the tears back, shaking her head. "S'fine. 'S just clothes, right? Nick lost just 'bout everything he had left, 'cept his horse. 'N besides, it ain't like I didn't try'n throw'm away once already… Just… gonna hafta do better, like y'said. … …..Once I'm outta this bed 'n c'n walk, anyway."

The hint of tears makes Quenton tense up immediately, and he suddenly pulls Shane close to him, in an uncharacteristic display of control that he doesn't seem to realize himself, squeezing at her and not hurting her anymore than a grown man would. "They meant a lot to you. I'm sorry. I'm glad you're okay, but I'm sorry you lost your stuff. And that I didn't take it seriously. Sorry. I know it's the thing you love doing."

"Nnnn… Q…" Any real response is cut off by the fact that her hip is now the center of gravity from her body, and while she hugs tightly in response — mostly to show that she knows he didn't mean to — her face goes white really quickly. "Thanks… but… ow…. ow ow ow…."

Quickly releasing Shane, Quenton looks a little pale now. "Did I hurt you?! I'm sorry!" He quickly raises his hands up and looks over her, her arms still aroud him, but him now not touching her. "Fuck. Sorry."

"Chill, *chill,* Q," Shane says, sighing. "Seriously… You *didn't* hurt me. ….Well I mean, like… sittin' up hurt, but… I ain't complainin' much, cos… that's th'first real hug y'ever done, 'n it was kinda nice. Just, y'know… butt pain won."

"I uh… yeah, that was weird. I mean, since the whole rage in the stadium, my powers are harder to control than ever, again," Quenton complains, exhaling and shaking his head. "But uh… I don't know how that happened." Still, his red eyes draw over Shane and he just shifts, his arms drawing around her again, but not squeezing.

"…Well, 'f y'figure it out," Shane murmurs, "lemme know, yeah?" Settling back on the bed, she looses a quiet sigh. "Do me a favor? Think th'fightin' fucked Ahmed up pretty hard… when they were scramblin' our powers, he kinda lost it a little. So like, lay off 'im on that, could'ja? He was pretty badass 'till then… did that cat-monster thing he did when you was fightin' him that once, 'member?"

"Ahmed lays it on me more than I ever fucking bother him, ever since that day. I've been playing -nice- with people by avoiding them, and other stuff, which is making it really hard for me to fucking burn the rage," Quenton says defensively, his jaw clenching, fists clenching as his eyes move to see if he can spot Ahmed, lip twitching. "But fine, I'll lay off him." He relaxes a little, voice softening. "Anyway, we were all gonna hang out. Seemed like— I don't know. We were getting along."

"Yeah, we were," Shane says, an amused snort puched through her nose. "Still could… Guess there's gonna be a snowball fight inna Danger Room. And hey, no classes… not like I been doin' m'homework lately anyway."

"I'll pass. I'm skipping the whole social thing. If it was just you, me, Nick, Warlock, and maybe some random person, I'd probably agree to it. Or Heather. Everyone else can fuck off, though," Quenton says, exhaling shallowly. He shrugs his shoulders a moment. "Figures our fucking plans were ruined, though."

Shane's shoulder lifts, her head shaking. "Pushed back, yeh. Ruined…. meh. Too hurt'n'tired t'give much of a fuck, really. Jus' glad t'see y'okay, 'n y'didn't tear up the hidin' spot lookin' f'me. 'Sides," she says, the corner of her mouth twitching upward. "'S my turn t'be inna hospital, yeah? You had your tour."

"I was about to," admits Quenton, grimacing. "I think I've almost done as much damage to the school as the sentinels did," he confesses, ducking his head, glancing over to the door a moment, before glancing back to Shane, resting his head against hers. "But oh, well."

"Yeah," Shane breathes, closing her eyes for a moment. "Oh well. Hey… Do me a favor? Ms. Frost says she wants everyone t'make out a list 'a shit they lost that ain't irreplaceable. See 'f y'could get Nick t'write yours down f'you? Or someone, Iunno."

"I have that super pen Emma Frost gave me that day, though it's super hard to write with, because the only way for me to make it work is if I write all sloppily and like… loose-wristed," Quenton mutters, just shaking his head and sighing, glancing to the ceiling. "I'll see if Nick will do it."

"Heh…" Opening her eyes, Shane looks up at Quenton, smirking. "What, now that y'just found out y'c'n manage it? Pf…" Shaking her head, she leans up to brush a kiss on Quenton's lips. "I gotta get, Q… Drugs're kickin' in, an' I ain't no good t'nobody on Vicodin."

"Oh, shush, you," Quenton says quietly, his lips parting briefly in an awkward return of the kiss Shane gives him. "Yeah. I'll uh… be nearby," he promises quietly, giving her an even more awkward smile, his hand lifting to cover up the mutilation on one side of it. He begins to drift away from her slowly, grabbing onto her blanket to pull it over. "Sleep tight, babe."

Shane's hand shoots out, grabbing hold of Quenton's wrist, and even through the growing haze it's clear something has annoyed her. "Oi… Put y'hand down, 'member? No more hidin'? *Then* I'll sleep tight."

"This isn't the last thing you should see before you pass out," Quenton says, a little stubbornly, though he lowers his hand anyway, flinchingly. "You're the boss, though," he mumbles, red eyes searching Shane's face.

"You let… *me* d'cide that," Shane murmurs, eyelids beginning to droop. "Fuck, y'r here 't all… good enough… f'r me."

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