fucking_gentleman | PSL: For Charles

Skip to Main Content

Entry tags:

psl

PSL: For Charles

It had taken a week to stabilise Harry to the point that he could under go more surgery, to build in the frame work and connections for his new eye. He was fairly out of it for another week after that, between painkillers and recovery.

It was a few days after that that, by the time Charles came down, Harry was sitting on the edge of the bed, a wheelchair sitting nearby and Harry rather insistently trying to get his nurse to let him wear the suit he wanted, rather than the far more relaxed clothing she was insisting on.

"Charles! Help me, Eggsy's on mission or I'd requisition him. I'm not being unreasonable, I'm not even asking for a three piece suit, just being allowed to dress in a manner that I find more comfortable."

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Charles liked routine. Routine, in Charles's world, meant familiarity and something pleasant. He would work during the day and then spend the evening with Harry. Sometimes he read to him, or they talked, but it always ended with Charles in bed with him. They weren't up to anything except for sleeping. Charles was able to relax with another warm body by him. He had not realised how much he required that in his life, even if it was blatant to his friends.

"If he thinks he is ready, I would like to see him try. I can assist if it becomes a problem."

The nurse–thoroughly sick of dealing with Harry–threw up her hands and left them to it.

"I've recovered the gross motor movement of my arm. And some in my leg." His hand still tended to curl and struggle with anything more than basic flex and grab and his leg couldn't take weight, couldn't lock at the knee, but he was improving.

"I don't think some proper trousers and a shirt and jacket is an unreasonable thing to aim for for the day."

"I don't think you're incorrect. Let us see how far you are able to go today." He smiled softly and glanced at the collection of clothes that Harry had in the room. "And what would you like to wear today?"

"Just casual. The light grey trousers, brown loafers, white shirt, suspenders, please, and maybe the dark blue blazer." He swung his right leg experimentally. "And once we've achieved dressed, I must insist we go past the bakery and see how recovery processes go and if my young friend has survived."

Charles began grabbing the pieces that Harry indicated and brought them over. "Yes, I think that would be lovely. It's a beautiful day." He gave Harry a look over as he offered the trousers. "How are you feeling?"

Harry gave a soft sigh. He was tired of wearing himself out trying to do basic things, of fighting his own body, of being trapped in here, or being in pain. "Can't really complain," he replied after a moment. "As has been pointed out to me, I'm doing very well for a man who should be dead."

"Mm," he said with a nod. "Well, you look better now than yesterday." Which he often said, unless he didn't think so. Then he would say nothing about how Harry looked. "How is the eye?"

"Feels like someone has been poking around in the socket with a hot solder iron and then stitched up my eyelids." Which was, near enough, what had happened.

Harry started working at getting his pyjama top unbuttoned. Using his right hand, because he knew he could do it with his left.

That was a fair description. And a painful one at that. "I can't wait for all of this is over, for your sake. This has been quite the ordeal."

Charles watched. If Harry began to struggle, he was going to offer help.

"I'm still aiming to be out of here in six weeks." Which was possibly optimistic, but he needed a goal and that worked.

He was slow, it was difficult, and eventually he gave in and used his left hand to help his right, actually manipulating his own fingers through the motions until he could shrug it off his shoulders.

"Right. Shirt, please."

"Six weeks is quite possible." Because Harry was so demanding. He could get what he wanted.

Charles handed the folded shirt to Harry.

"It better be." He took the shirt and shook it out, slowly getting it on without any help. The buttons took a bit more concentration, right hand holding the shirt front together while the left got them done up.

"Cufflinks, I'm afraid, are going to be quite beyond me yet."

"Allow me to assist with the cufflinks." Harry was about to go into public. He would want his attire to be precise. "What is the name of the young man from the bakery?"

"An-" He paused. What was it?

"An- Anthony!" He swallowed. "Anthony." He offered out his wrists to Charles, as though waiting to be handcuffed.

He wanted his cuffs done before he tried tackling trousers.

"Thank you. And what do you know about Anthony?" He held the back of Harry's hand and began putting on the first cufflink.

"Very little. I had his background checked, of course, but that was when he started, some years ago. Nothing flagged, so it would've been processed and forgotten."

"Harry, you didn't talk to him about who he was or his family?" Once the cufflink was fastened, he took Harry's other hand.

Harry sighed again and tipped his head back, trawling through his slightly fragmented memory.

"Father walked out, single mother, ex-boyfriend was abusive, ex-girlfriend married mutual friend, still in contact, younger sister, studying science in college. Wanted to one day one the bakery."

"He sounds like he has some potential." A dream to own his own bakery. And definitely one of Harry's types. He smiled and picked up Harry's trousers.

"He will, undoubtedly, be a wonderful manager for that place. Assuming it is rebuilt." He looked at the trousers and thought.

He was fairly sure he couldn't manage it alone. "Let me give it a try without help first."

"It is being reconstructed. I investigated after you mentioned it."

Charles nodded and handed Harry the trousers, giving the older man space.

"That's good to know."

Harry gets undressed from his pyjama pants with some level of efficiency. There's clearly some practice in that and his dressing, feet into the legs, tugged up to his thighs and then he ran into the difficulty of his weak side.

"... shit. I think I can do this, but possibly not without tipping myself onto the floor. A hand, please."

"Happy to help." He surveyed where best to help with keeping Harry upright and went from there.

It took a little coordination, letting Charles take his weight while getting trousers up and settled. He could at least manage doing them up and sliding the suspenders on just fine.

It was ridiculously tiring, just getting dressed. But worth it. "Thank you."

Charles smiled broadly at Harry and then kissed him gently. It felt like the right thing to do in that instance. He was tremendously happy.for Harry at that moment, and grateful for him.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 7

«

1
2
3
4
5
6
7

»