"No," Jedao says, with perfect equanimity. A complete thought, to his own mind nearly self-evident.
"I told you the other day, you make me feel peaceful. You'll be warm in my arms and I'll get to look at your pretty hair and cheekbones for hours and listen to your soft sleep breathing and lose count of your eyelashes a dozen times." He sounds just a little bit high himself at the prospect: a gentle blissful wistful ease, not quite a daze, not yet.
"Farm fresh," Jedao says, with a soft laugh, and lays Quentin gingerly back down, arranging the pillow and blankets with a cozy fussiness before crawling in next to him.
He keeps touching Quentin, gently stroking his sides or playing with his hair, until Quentin is well asleep. Then he calls Fives with a few requests, and returns to cuddling Quentin until he has to get up to let Fives in the door.
Fives peers anxiously past Jedao, hoping to catch a glimpse of Quentin; he's too used to losing people to take any injury he can't see and assess for himself lightly. He doesn't try to come in, though, just offers Jedao the bags of food and water bottles, as well as the small bundle he's made of the tea set and wind chimes.
"Are you sure he'll heal all right?" he asks in a strained, almost whisper.
"I'm sure if the doctors here weren't perfect, we'll get someone better," he says firmly. Jedao steps back, waves Fives into the room as though it were obvious he was going to stay.
"Good." Fives' relief at not being sent away is palpable, and he heads straight for the room's little table to start carefully and quietly laying out his acquisitions. "His hands are important, they need to heal properly." Which he's sure Jedao knows, but he's spent enough hours practicing with Quentin now to understand viscerally just how true that is.
"I got all the food in warming containers, so nothing will go cold before he's ready for it," he explains, barely above a whisper still, and glancing anxiously at Quentin's still form in the bed from time to time. "All the bottles are full, mostly with water, but two of them have a fruit-flavored electrolyte drink."
He sets the tea set aside for when Jedao wants it, then carefully, almost reverently, unwraps the wind chimes and turns to offer them to Jedao. "They're... soothing," he explains quietly. And he thinks they might also help Quentin know he's someplace safe and that he's not alone if Jedao isn't right at his side when he wakes up for any reason, or when he's drifting close to consciousness but not quite there. It's why he had made sure to hang them in Iris's bus for Jedao, as well.
"Thank you, darling," Jedao murmurs, leaning up to give him a quick kiss. "He said he had a thing about hands - more than pragmatics, I think. It'd make sense if they were a target before. Or just anxieties about it."
He takes the tea set and heads back to the bed, sitting next to the rough shape of Quentin under the blankets instead of quite rejoining him. He sits cross-legged with the warm solidly of one leg pressed casually against Quentin's shoulder, and he starts balancing the tea set so it calibrates. "And it might be good just for white noise - he's been startled a few times just by ordinary noises in the hallway. Not quite startled awake, but he needs proper rest."
"Much of his magic would be impossible without his hands, so it make sense either way," he agrees quietly. Despite a lifetime of learning to use and control his body in what he'd thought every way possible, Fives had had no idea of some of the ways it was possible to move his hands until he'd started working on magic with Quentin, or that there were still ways in which he'd never experienced pain before.
He watches Jedao retreat back to the bed, grateful for that quick kiss, and lets himself finally look properly at Quentin. He looks peaceful, and not like a man in severe pain or close to death. It's reassuring to see for himself, no matter how much he trusts Jedao.
"It's good for that too, I'm sure." He looks around for a place to hang the chimes from now that the food is dealt with. The hanging lamp over the table seems the best choice, and he very carefully fastens it there before bringing two of the bottles over to the bedside table. "One's water, the other's one of the electrolyte solutions," he explains.
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Is his only objection, still staring up at him in a daze.
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"I told you the other day, you make me feel peaceful. You'll be warm in my arms and I'll get to look at your pretty hair and cheekbones for hours and listen to your soft sleep breathing and lose count of your eyelashes a dozen times." He sounds just a little bit high himself at the prospect: a gentle blissful wistful ease, not quite a daze, not yet.
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Quentin decides, with a long, slow blink. In that case, he decides it's time to get up, out of his chair, moving very carefully for the bed.
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"Do you want me to carry you again?" he asks. He's happy to, but he'll let Quentin shuffle if he prefers.
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Agrees Quentin, reaching out to hang on to Jedao's shoulder.
"I feel weird."
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"Bad-weird?" He inquires, gliding carefully toward the bed.
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"You're strong, you know that?"
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"Thank you for saving me."
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"You're welcome, Quentin-shei."
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He can admit, while he drapes a leg over his hip, and breathes out a long sigh.
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"Irresistible," Jedao murmurs. "You know if I tell Fives anything more than you'll miss the next lesson, he'll want to come help. Is that alright?"
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He can kind of tell he wouldn't, but he just needs to check.
"It's bad timing. He should go have a nice time in he port."
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And privately, Jedao thinks that given the ways it is bad timing..."It will be easier on him to know."
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That's all it takes.
"Want to call him now?"
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He admits;
"Just maybe warn him please that I'm out of my fucking skull, and have- a weird hand thing?"
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Closing his eyes, lightly.
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"Are you sure he'll heal all right?" he asks in a strained, almost whisper.
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"I got all the food in warming containers, so nothing will go cold before he's ready for it," he explains, barely above a whisper still, and glancing anxiously at Quentin's still form in the bed from time to time. "All the bottles are full, mostly with water, but two of them have a fruit-flavored electrolyte drink."
He sets the tea set aside for when Jedao wants it, then carefully, almost reverently, unwraps the wind chimes and turns to offer them to Jedao. "They're... soothing," he explains quietly. And he thinks they might also help Quentin know he's someplace safe and that he's not alone if Jedao isn't right at his side when he wakes up for any reason, or when he's drifting close to consciousness but not quite there. It's why he had made sure to hang them in Iris's bus for Jedao, as well.
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He takes the tea set and heads back to the bed, sitting next to the rough shape of Quentin under the blankets instead of quite rejoining him. He sits cross-legged with the warm solidly of one leg pressed casually against Quentin's shoulder, and he starts balancing the tea set so it calibrates. "And it might be good just for white noise - he's been startled a few times just by ordinary noises in the hallway. Not quite startled awake, but he needs proper rest."
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He watches Jedao retreat back to the bed, grateful for that quick kiss, and lets himself finally look properly at Quentin. He looks peaceful, and not like a man in severe pain or close to death. It's reassuring to see for himself, no matter how much he trusts Jedao.
"It's good for that too, I'm sure." He looks around for a place to hang the chimes from now that the food is dealt with. The hanging lamp over the table seems the best choice, and he very carefully fastens it there before bringing two of the bottles over to the bedside table. "One's water, the other's one of the electrolyte solutions," he explains.
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