Difference between revisions of "Logs:Problems and Distractions"

Oliwer's return home had ushered in some sevens of especially tender treatment and appreciation, as is often the case with reconciliation. But now things were returning more toward normal but with more brooding sort of silences. There's something G'laer isn't saying, hasn't been saying that's finally even beyond their shared tolerance for ignoring such things. Once again when the healer returns from an afternoon shift, G'laer is sprawled comfortably on his back on the rug in front of the fire, an empty tea cup beside him. Once again his lips show a ghost of a frown as he stares at the ceiling.

The healer doesn't say anything right away as he arrives. Perhaps he doesn't realize that G'laer is in until after he's changing into something less workish and looking over in the greenrider's direction. Oliwer still doesn't say anything until he's made his way over there, toward his chair. But he doesn't sit. "Everything okay?" he asks like he's probably asked a handful of times before now before stepping around to make some tea for himself.

"Fine," comes the unstartled response from the greenrider who finally looks at the healer, as so many times before. As all the times before, this might well be a lie. It's a slow shifting that he makes to rise up onto his elbows and then sit. This is the usual process of rising to greet the healer properly now with a distracting kiss, but the shadow of the frown is still there.

Proper greetings or not, Oliwer doesn't look like he believes that word very much. And, like usual, he doesn't look like he's going to press about it. But then he changes his mind. "No," he says in that firm way of his. "No. Is it this? Us? Is this not working now?" He sounds a little worried, so maybe he's wondered this on occasion himself.

In some ways, that empty teacup is a very fortunate thing. It means G'laer is relaxed whether he likes it or not. "Hm?" Not 'what?!' It's a very mellow sound and the greenrider's hands are seeking to meet the healers and entwine his fingers. "No. Not us. Not really. Only sort of." So, yes? Maybe? "It's just that..." He trails off pursing his lips. He always likes to pick the right words. But now, as often is the case with his special tea, it's taking him a while to decide what the right words are.

Oliwer hasn't been drinking any of that special tea, so the prospect of it being 'them' has him frowning up at G'laer, fingers tightening slightly in the greenrider's hands. And while G'laer is trying to think of the right words to use, Oliwer repeats, "Only sort of?" He can't even begin to imagine what that means, so he tries really hard not to let said imagination run wild.

G'laer knows Oliwer's 'on-the-brink-of-imagination-running-wild' tone of voice, so in this state it makes him say quickly, "Nonononononono," followed by the ever helpful, "Well, yes." But that's not the best part. The best he saves for last. "It's about Jadzia and I," which in turn certainly affects them, especially when he says 'Jadzia and I' in such an 'us'-like manner.

That certainly doesn't leave Oliwer looking very relieved. But he's not asking any intimate questions, where his imagination is surely taking him. Not yet anyway. The thing he asks, perhaps so he's quite positive they're on the same page, "The girl from Crom Jadzia?"

"Yes." Too bad, same page after all. The greenrider is still looking for the right words. He'd probably settle for any of them with as long as he's been looking. Sevens. "Some things happened while you were at the Hall. With her and me, I mean." G'laer's brow is furrowed in indecision and possibly concern. What to say?

Oliwer looks at G'laer's indecisive expression for several heartbeats before he's turning away to deal with his tea instead. Of course he assumes the worst. At least what he can only assume is the worst. Why wouldn't he? "It's fine. You didn't know where we were or... or if we'd ever be here again."

G'laer may be perceptive on many topics, but he doesn't at least presently seem to realize just what the healer is assuming. "I didn't think you would be back." That much is true. "But I brought her here, to live, and-" what a moment to go looking for those right words again! He's at least visibly doing that from his expression.

The healer turns to frown at G'laer for a moment before he forces himself to go back to the tea. He doesn't turn again until he has a cup that he can take over to his chair. Except he doesn't sit once he's standing by it. Apparently his curiosity, or more like insecurity, is getting the better of him, "Did you have sex with her?" Oliwer might not usually be so forward about questions of that nature but, well, might as well take advantage of the special tea.

"What?" G'laer was still lost in deep thought when the question is posed so the 'what' is his confusion. "Oh. Oh." He catches up, turning to face Oliwer. "No." And he should stop there, but the tea is taking advantage of him. "I almost did, but Teisyth wouldn't have it. I was really pretty smashed. It was all pretty stupid. She gave me a sketch of her naked and then gave me a hard time about..." He tries to remember and becomes distracted in the process.

He listens, still kind of frowning. He might not actually realize he's frowning, even. And Oliwer will have to remember to thank Teisyth later. But right now he asks, "Are you planning on having sex with her?" Not that these things are usually planned. "Did you keep the sketch?" Also possibly important.

G'laer is frowning now too, only not his severe frown, his confused frown as though he's trying to track just exactly how they got here. In the meantime though, he offers answers. "No. She's not interested. I mean I'm not. Neither of us are." Does Oli feel all warm and fuzzy now? "I did, because she -- that's complicated. What's important is I gave it back in the end." Is that what's important? He steps toward Oli. "But now she wants me to leave her alone." Which is somehow the actual thing that he claims is fine but isn't.

Oliwer sits now, despite G'laer stepping toward him, looking at the hearth rather than the greenrider as he takes a slow, careful sip of his tea. He has to think about this before he jumps to the nearest conclusion. So when he speaks again, it's to ask, calmly, "You don't want to leave her alone?"

"Yes and no." So many clear answers from G'laer tonight. Perhaps one just has to be grateful that they are answers and not just more questions as is often the case. The man sinks down onto his knees in front of the healer. "I'd like to respect her wishes. Only I don't think Searching her was enough to make up for what I've done. Normally that wouldn't bother me. Maybe your whole 'good person' thing is rubbing off on me. It bothers me that I'm bothered." He looks up at the healer, still thoughtful. This is exactly the kind of thing that Oliwer wanted him to be a good person about, right?

"You don't owe the girl anything," says Oliwer. Apparently he doesn't think this is how he wanted G'laer to be a good person. "And if she wants you to leave her alone, it seems like that would be a good way to start making it up to her." The healer sighs, setting aside his tea so he can lift a hand to touch the greenrider's face. "It bothers me that it bothers you that you're bothered." Let's confuse the high person. "But I don't know what to tell you."

Fortunately for Oliwer, G'laer's had a lot of experience being functional while high; he'd have to or he probably wouldn't do it even in the relative safety of his own weyr. He seems to follow well enough and it's the latter that he focuses in on. "I'm just not used to having a voice in the back of my head," probably figuratively, "who sounds a lot like you," except not the part where he's advising G'laer to leave Jadzia alone, "that wants me to exercise restraint. At least Teisyth I can sometimes shut out." Beat. "For annoyingly short spans." He's distracted by that and perhaps Teisyth is even now participating in the conversation. But a moment later, he asks, "You want me to leave her alone. Why?" Maybe everything up to this point has been stewing in his mind and has finally gotten put together. Or maybe Teisyth is the perceptive one this time.

"Would it bother you that it bothers you if you didn't still have feelings for her?" Oliwer doesn't answer questions with questions as often as G'laer, but maybe the habit is starting to rub off on him. He doesn't say anything else, though, probably assuming that his reasons for wanting G'laer to leave the girl alone are kind of obvious.

"What?" It has to be asked because for G'laer, and maybe it's the tea, that questioning comes from nowhere. "No. It bothers me because I used to be -- and now I'm not." Ruthless. Heartless. That's what he means, but it's not at all how it sounds. It doesn't help that G'laer then asks, "What are we talking about?" So much for following.

"Do you still have feelings for the girl, G'laer?" Oliwer asks this a little more... okay, a lot more directly. He sits back in his chair, not frowning anymore but looking at the greenrider with seriously furrowed brows.

There's silence. It's long. Much longer than it should be. Much longer than it would be if they were having this conversation while G'laer was not two cups of tea into his habit. "I have feelings about her." He finally says, "But not for her. I don't think. Not the way I feel about you." He's struggling here. These are feelings they're talking about! "You're my--" His brow is furrowed, he's thinking very hard, trying very hard. "My person. My wermate. It's different with us." But none of that conclusively says he doesn't want Jadzia. Oops.

Maybe it's the fact that he seems to be trying so hard that makes Oliwer take pity on the greenrider. He doesn't look satisfied with the answers, granted, but he only nods uncertainly and doesn't ask anything else about Jadzia right now. "I love you, G'laer. Nothing will change that." That much has practically been proven already.

Practically. Just Wait. G'laer should use this as an end. But instead, "She doesn't think I deserve you." He pushes up onto his feet and moves to face the fire, reaching for the poker. "She's right." It's a simple statement. The poker finds the logs and the greenrider's movements are distracting. Distracting for himself. Then there's an abrupt replacement of the poker. "I'm going to go," is the announcement before he starts for the ledge, only to realize a moment later that he'd probably prefer to go with a shirt, so it's instead toward the dresser that he moves.

"Nonsense. She doesn't know me well enough to say anything like that," Oliwer says as he watches G'laer move. "And you're biased." He frowns when the greenrider announces his intention to leave. Oliwer watches him for a moment and maybe he wouldn't have stopped him from going. But he asks as G'laer goes for the dresser, "Where are you going to go?"

"I don't know." It's not so much about going as about not being here, now. G'laer's quick to pull open a drawer and don a shirt. Any shirt, it doesn't matter. But even so, the shirt must be tucked into his pants and adjusted just so that it hangs neatly and there are buttons to be done on this particular shirt. "You deserve better." It's a firmly delivered three words.

Oliwer rises, then, and starts to make his way over to where G'laer is working on his buttons. He lifts his hands in a way that might make it seem like he'll even help. Except it's not help that he offers, instead trying, gently, to undo some of G'laer's progress while he speaks. "I think it's me who gets to decide what I deserve. Not some girl that doesn't know me. Not even you. And I think you're much more than I do deserve, Gal."

G'laer eyes Oliwer. Unhelpful. "That's because-" gets out but the rest is firmly choked off, with effort. The greenrider must really not want to answer questions about what he was going to say because without warning his hands move from buttons to laces, specifically the ones on Oliwer's pants. How's sex for an abrupt topic change?

It's actually pretty good as abrupt topic changes go. The healer has a certain weakness for it where the greenrider is concerned. But Oliwer's hands shift down to settle on G'laer's. He doesn't necessarily try to stop as much as try to keep his attention on, "Because what?"

"Hm?" G'laer's mask that shouldn't say this distraction is only pretend is a little weak as his fingers carry on with the laces until hands slip free of the healers and slide beneath the fabric.

"Stop," murmurs Oliwer. It's not incredibly convincing, as these things go. Especially since he doesn't actually try to stop G'laer himself now. Perhaps he just needs that moment to decide whether he cares enough to press or if he just wants to let this happen before he cares about anything else again. It's certainly better than just letting G'laer leave.

No, no. There's no obliging response to the word. If Oli really means it, they'll suddenly be talking about pointy medical equipment shortly. Otherwise there's just increasingly rougher and more aggressive movement to assure the change of topic sticks.

Whether the roughness is because G'laer knows Oliwer kind of likes it or just because he really doesn't want to talk about it, it doesn't seem to matter to the healer. There aren't anymore attempts to stop the greenrider because that's not really what Oliwer wants.