The Seventh Wing - 2. Chapter 2

Bronze rider J'day spent three days in the infirmary. He woke the first morning stiff and sore. He sat up, carefully, and swung his legs over the side, groaning. He rested there for a minute. His legs were two massive blocks of muscle cramps. They didn't want to bend.

"Need a hand?"

J'day started. He smiled at the healer apprentice who peered in from the parted curtain. "Yes, I think so. These legs don't seem to want to listen to me."

The healer grinned back. "I'm Morry. If you need anything, just call." He slipped a shoulder under J'day's arm and helped him stand. "A visit to the necessary, a long soak, and then I'll work out some of those cramps."

"Sounds terrific," J'day replied and it was. He broke his fast feeling far more relaxed and was able to get around on his own from then on.

T'skel, one of D'cor's wingseconds, brought J'day reports to review and the general gossip around the weyr. Much was apparently being made of the mating flight that had so incapacitated two riders, though T'skel assured J'day with a laugh that it would all blow over in a sevenday or two. Most of the commotion had come from the upset in the pool and J'day had to roll his eyes to that.

"Just luck," he said.

"Or strategy," the brown rider winked at him. "News of your conquests at Fort have reached the ears of the riders."

J'day groaned. "Ruddy dragons."

"You know," T'skel remarked, with a sly look towards the closed curtain of F'rian's cubicle. "Lioleth has been spending a great deal of time sunning herself on Gibbrenth's ledge."

J'day grimaced.

"Next thing you know," continued T'skel, "She'll be claiming you next. That dragon's a terror," and then he sighed, "but she does keep order in the wing. Drill was terrible today. D'cor's on a tear."

"Then I'm glad I missed it," said J'day with a grin. "I'll be back on duty in a few days."

"And F'rian?"

"Not for awhile, apparently."

"Hmm," grunted the brown rider. "You're going to have some of the rougher crowd knocking at your door if you're not careful."

"That's out of line!" snapped J'day. He frowned then. He thought he had a good idea, but he wanted to be sure. "What do you mean?"

T'skel shifted uncomfortably. "Just that F'rian's known to be a rough lover, that's all."

J'day's eyes widened a little. "He has a weyrmate?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that," the brownrider said quickly. "But no one comes out of his mating flights unscathed." His gaze went to J'day's black eye. "Though you seem to have gotten by without too much trouble."

"I see. Who flew Lioleth last?"

"Toryth." He was one of those browns that equaled Gibbrenth in size, big and burly. His rider, V'tos, was a wingsecond in H'jes' Wing. J'day didn't know him at all, but he'd met him. The man intimidated J'day, and not just because he made the bronzerider feel like a twig. V'tos was one of the ones transferred to Igen twelve turns prior. He was an older man, like the Weyrleader, and had been a wingsecond for most of his career. He had a blunt, aggressive demeanor and had looked J'day up and down as if he were a piece of meat. J'day didn't think he was a bad man, exactly, but he'd taken care to keep away from any situation that might have left him alone with the brownrider.

Wincing, he asked, "What happened?"

"Sir, maybe V'tos would really answer this better."

"Just tell me."

"I don't know, but he flew Lioleth's first flight. I, uh, helped D'cor take F'rian to the infirmary after. He was pretty banged up." T'skel shifted from foot to foot. "I'm not supposed to talk about it, but it's pretty common knowledge that V'tos is a pretty physical man, er," he blushed and gestured vaguely with one hand. "You know."

"I see," sighed J'day.

"Don't get me wrong," T'skel added. "He's a good wingsecond and, well, dragonlust, you know how that is."

J'day did indeed. During a mating flight, winning the prize and satisfying the lust overrode everything. J'day did his best to temper his lust, to guide his own actions, but not all dragonriders did. Whenever he found himself on the edge of control, he just had to think of his mother, a greenrider at Fort, and that always cooled his ardor. She'd often taken J'day aside and spoken to him about flights she'd experienced, and those of her friends, and pressed him always to take care for his partner.

"Just because it's forced upon you," she'd lectured, "doesn't give you the right to abuse the man or woman you're with. Your body may be telling you one thing, but it's up to your head to take charge. You don't have a brain in your cock."

He'd winced. There were few things as embarassing as talking about sex with your mother.

"They don't tell you that in weyrling training, do they?"

'There are choices, and then there are choices,' was one of her favorite sayings. Joreena, being an apprentice healer prior to her own Impression, was often called upon to counsel and tend mistreated greenriders after flights, both male and female. J'day knew more, sometimes, than he'd ever wished to about some of his fellow riders. He shook his head wordlessly, thinking back over D'cor's rather cryptic comment of the night before.

"He didn't appear to me as the physical type," said J'day, glancing over at F'rian's curtain. His fingers probed at his bruise. "This was an accident."

T'skel shrugged. "You haven't seen him duel, sir. If you'll pardon me, I need to give Kimetenth a bath before he starts sulking."

J'day laughed and waved him away. The time to himself was nice, but after a few days his muscles loosened sufficiently to allow him normal movement and he couldn't stay secluded in the infirmary forever. He shuffled over to F'rian's bedside before leaving, but the man slept and J'day moved on. He found both dragons curled up on the ledge of his weyr and sighed, but joined them out in the sunshine.

I'm hungry, said the bronze, opening a lazy eye at J'day.

Laughing, Gibbrenth's rider rubbed the headnobs. He staggered into the golden-orange skin when Lioleth butted him with her nose.

Bath! she demanded.

J'day stared. "Um, okay, but --"

Now! I want a bath now!

Gibbrenth rumbled warningly, but the little green just hissed at the other dragon. Gibbrenth drew himself up, affronted, and leaped from the ledge. Lioleth stared after for a minute, looking amusingly startled, and then gave chase.

"Ruddy dragons," muttered J'day. He went to bed. His weyr was on the ground level, but his muscles were complaining again of their abuse. Later that day he did hunt both dragons and washed them at the lake before eating a hasty dinner and falling once more straight into sleep. Although neither was particularly large, bathing a dragon was hard, exhausting work.

He was glad to be back in his own weyr. He had his own private bathing pool that he took his time soaking in the following morning. Thinking about T'skel's comments and the Weyrleader's request gave him an idea. He stopped in to see F'rian before heading into the hall for the morning meal. The greenrider was awake, lying face down while a couple of the apprentices worked salve into the knotted muscles of the rider's back and legs, giving his left ankle, still securely wrapped, a wide berth. J'day's eyes went instantly to the scars, following them down to where they ended in his thigh, just above the knee. The right buttock was flat and smooth, the other puckered and scored. There were, J'day was intrigued to note, no tan lines.

The apprentices both looked up as J'day entered. One was Morry and he smiled, but neither paused in their work.

"We'll be done in a minute."

J'day nodded his thanks and sat down at the front of the bed, tearing his eyes away from F'rian's body and the growing discomfort in his pants. He was almost embarrassed, staring at the man when he was ignorant of the looks, but distracted himself by going over his arguments in his head, not wanting any of his anxiety or excitement to leak out.

F'rian's hands were white-knuckled fists around the pillow he held over his head. J'day tapped on one of those hands. The greenrider jumped, but loosened his grip and peered out.

"What are ... you doing here?" grunted F'rian through a clenched jaw. One shoulder twitched as an apprentice hit a particularly tender spot.

"Sir," added the greenrider after a moment, tensing again.

J'day smiled casually. "I thought, seeing as how you're not to fly for some time that perhaps, instead of staying in the infirmary, that you'd care to use my weyr."

J'day, watching F'rian, saw the man's lips tighten fractionally.

"There's more than enough room," he pressed. "Certainly more privacy. And Lioleth has been sleeping on Gibbrenth's ledge."

Successfully distracted from the massage, there was no mistaking F'rian's surprise. "She ... she has?" His face took on that far-off look that most riders had when speaking to their dragons and when he looked back, there was something else in his expression, something that J'day couldn't recognize. He said nothing.

"Lioleth says you've been taking care of her," said F'rian. "My thanks, sir."

"That dragon of yours," chuckled J'day, "does not like 'no' as an answer."

That drew a slight smile from the greenrider. "No, sir, she doesn't."

"Well, you think on it," said J'day, rising. "I'll be back to check on you later."

It took two more days for F'rian to actually agree and J'day had a sneaking suspicion that Lioleth had more to do with the decision than his own, stilted conversations with the dragonrider. As F'rian still could not walk for the swelling in his ankle, two of the journeymen healers carried the rider into the weyr on a stretcher and transferred him easily, if carefully, onto the sleeping couch.

Lioleth poked her nose in past the privacy curtain in the living quarters and made a queer, chirping sound. F'rian lifted a hand weakly, face strained and white, eyes closed. J'day listened to the journeyman's instructions carefully and set the salves and balms on the bedside table. After they left, he made some willowsalic tea to help with the pain and helped F'rian sit up enough to drink it. His hands shook around the mug, but F'rian didn't spill, and his eyes scanned the room silently.

J'day blushed, even though F'rian didn't comment on the mess. He only said a mumbled thank you and fell back asleep.

Mine! chirped the green as J'day gazed down at the other rider. He looked over at her when Gibbrenth rumbled. The green dragon paused, taking on a thoughtful expression, and then bobbed her head a little. Ours, she said, and withdrew.

Ours, said Gibbrenth to J'day, his tone colored with amusement.

She is a bad influence on you, J'day told him. He rose and set the cup in the sink before sitting down at his desk. A sound from the direction of the sleeping couch startled J'day later into realizing that he'd worked the afternoon clear through. He rose, yawning, and opened a glow basket to see better. As he pushed back the curtain into the sleeping area, J'day thought he saw, for a moment, a shadow of fear on his guest's face, but in the next moment, it was gone.

F'rian stared back at him with his usual, neutral expression. "There's only one," he paused, gesturing with his hand at the sleeping couch.

"Yes," J'day replied. "Is that a problem?" He sat down on the edge of the couch, taking care not to make any sudden moves or touch the other in any way.

F'rian blinked, then swallowed, and dropped his gaze. "I guess not."

J'day lifted an eyebrow. "Can I get you anything from your weyr?"

In the dim light, J'day might have been mistaken, but he thought that F'rian blushed. "I would appreciate some clothes, sir."

"Call me J'day, F'rian, plenty of time to call me 'sir' when we're in public."

That gaze turned steely. "I'm not your weyrmate."

J'day forced a casual shrug. "Never said you were. But I won't be called 'sir' or 'wingsecond' or 'bronzerider' in my own weyr."

"Yes, sir."

"Now, let's get you turned over and rub in some more of this stinky stuff." He wrinkled his nose as he picked up the liniment.

"What?" F'rian's hands tightened on the furs. "You mean the healers aren't going to do that?"

This time J'day had his best disapproving look ready. "If you think they're going to continue to wait on you hand and foot, then you're as bad as your dragon."

F'rian's mouth fell open. J'day stood and turned the glows to spread more light, giving the other rider time to regain his composure. He flinched away from J'day's touch, but the bronze rider kept his eyes firmly averted from the scars and his words brief, tone impersonal rather than friendly. He started on the back and shoulders, working the liniment into the scar tissue carefully. The greenrider's shoulders were every bit as well-toned as J'day had fantasized and he set to the work with a will.

"You're better at this than those apprentices," F'rian ventured after several minutes.

J'day was glad the other couldn't see the blush that darkened his face. "My foster mother has a bad back. I've had a lot of practice."

"You have -- ah!" he hissed, shivering, as J'day worked the muscles of the lower back.

"Sorry," he murmured.

"Sir ... er, J'day, why are you doing this for me? Um, the weyr, and all?"

"I'm your wingsecond," replied J'day. "It's part of the job to take care of my riders." He sighed. "That, and your Lioleth has taken an interest in my Gibbrenth. Your green is unusual in many respects."

"Yes. She ... likes you. She calls you by name. She's never done that before."

"Really? Hmm," he kept his tone noncommittal. "Well then, I guess I must confess that she's talked to me, too."

"She has?"

"Yes." He recapped the jar. "Do you want some of the salve on your legs, then?" he asked, thinking Please say yes! He wanted to keep touching him. "Journeyman Jeter said it was up to you. Sure felt good on me. I haven't run like that, well, ever, I guess."

"I ... they are still sore," F'rian admitted.

J'day reached for one of the other crockery jars and prised off the lid. "I understand you were a runner, before you got Searched."

"Y-yes." He twitched as J'day moved down to knead tight calf muscles.

"Kept it up, then, have you?"

"Yes."

Awkward silence fell on them once more. J'day continued working, glad to be doing something, even if that something was taking his mind in a direction he couldn't go.

"What ... what about you?"

"Oh," J'day responded, smiling a little, "I'm a brat. My mother's a rider."

"Oh. She must be proud."

"Yes. Very."

"So why come here?"

"Promotion, of course," J'day answered, which was mostly the truth. "Igen needs me. Fort doesn't."

"But you left your weyrmate."

"Rumors circulate fast around here, don't they?" laughed J'day. He moved to the other leg. "Yes, I did. D'toras and I grew up together. We were lovers once, that's true, but not in several turns. My weyr, even as a junior bronze, was large enough to share, so I did, whatever the rumors said. I will miss him, that is true, too, but I will make new friends here." He paused. "Does that shock you? My having a male lover?"

"You're a bronzerider."

"So?"

F'rian frowned. "But you don't have to ... to --"

"Have sex with a man?" J'day hid his smile.

"Yes," whispered F'rian.

"I know I don't have to," J'day said, continuing the massage. "I choose to."

"You're not, I mean, you won't ...."

"Of course not," he soothed F'rian, cursing silently. "You're here as my guest. Nothing more." He told himself that F'rian's soft sigh of relief didn't hurt. "Of course," his mouth flapped before he could stop himself, "if you ever do want to, I would."

F'rian's voice was little more than a squeak. "You would?"

"Yeah. Why not? Don't you think you're attractive?" J'day rolled his eyes at himself, mentally cursing his own bumbling stupidity.

"But, my scars?"

"Character-building, as my foster mother would say, and I say," he fingered one of the ridges, "fascinating, too."

"Don't do that!" F'rian cried, twitching.

J'day jerked his hands back. "Um, sorry, F'rian."

They fell into an awkward silence until F'rian changed the subject. "You must have been young, when you Impressed."

"Twelve," he answered, relieved that the greenrider didn't seem upset with him. "Seems hard to believe I've been a dragonrider for almost fifteen turns now."

"That does seem like a long time."

"Hey, you're making me feel old, and I'm not that much older than you."

"I was nineteen," F'rian murmured after another moment.

J'day didn't press and finished up the massage in silence before assisting F'rian to roll back over, propping him up with cushions and smoothing the blankets. He sat down again and extended his arm.

"Seems a little silly, I know," he said, "but I don't think we ever officially got to meet. I'm J'day, bronze Gibbrenth's rider."

F'rian grabbed his wrist in a strong grasp. "F'rian, green Lioleth's rider."

"Well, F'rian, I'm going to fetch back some dinner, and I'll return with your things as well."

"Thank you."

Going out to the ledge, J'day directed Gibbrenth back up to F'rian's weyr. Not surprisingly, Lioleth followed. The two dragons bickered for space while the bronzerider strode into the living quarters. Nothing had changed since his last visit, but everything seemed somehow different. Going to the clothes chest, he easily lifted out a couple changes in shirts and pants, all carefully folded and neatly pressed, and all looking fairly worn. About a dozen pairs of shoes were lined up together under the bed. J'day shook his head and drew out an older, worn pair of slippers and in a few more minutes tied everything together into a slightly bulky pack.

As he turned to go back into the main portion of the living quarters, J'day paused, mouth falling open, as he stared at a beautiful, oil panting hanging on the wall. The sole piece of decor in the whole place, that alone would have been stunning, but the painting just took his breath away. The background was Igen Weyr, that was easy enough to tell by the shape of the bowl and the lake. But the dominant figure was that of a dragon in flight, soaring above the lake, with one wingtip extended to trail in the water. The mirror image looked so real that J'day only barely stopped himself from running a finger along the ripples. By the coloring of the dragon, the picture was of Lioleth. A date scrawled in the corner identified the painting as a couple turns old.

J'day moved into the rest of the room. Evidently someone had been there, for the spilled wine and broken cups were gone, and the fire was cold, the ashes swept bare. J'day stepped over to the sofa, to the piles of thin, finely-scraped hide. They were sketches, of both people and dragons and uncannily life-like, making the subjects easy to recognize. There was even one of the weyrleader, chin in hand, half-asleep at a table. By the faint lines elsewhere, J'day surmised that the older rider sat at dinner. He rose and walked over to the easel. He recognized the rider, Weyrwoman Malira, so the dragon must be her queen.

Staring at the painting, he came to a sudden decision and made up a second and third pack with the unfinished drawings, the paint kit, and some extra sheaves of paper he discovered while looking for some hides to wrap everything in. To get everything back, J'day pulled Lioleth's flying harness off its pegs and tentatively approached the green. He needn't have worried. Lioleth shouldered Gibbrenth aside, the bronze giving her a pained look before moving out of the way. J'day affixed the parcels to the green and had Gibbrenth direct her back to his weyr while he and his bronze dropped down to the lower caverns.

Several riders hailed him as he crossed the dining hall and J'day returned the greetings easily, if surprised. His wingleader's wave, however, gave him pause and he turned in that direction.

"Weyrleader, Weyrwoman, Wingleaders," he said politely, nodding his head in greeting.

"How are you recovering?" Malira asked.

"Just fine, Weyrwoman," he replied. "A few aches, but that's to be expected. I'll be back on active duty after the rest day."

"That is good to hear. And F'rian?"

"Also well."

"I am glad. Give him my good wishes."

"Certainly, Weyrwoman."

"Supposed to rain tonight," commented one of the other riders. "It's certainly a good time to be gaining a weyrmate."

J'day frowned, but the weyrleader's scowl hastily silenced the guffaws. "You can ask the headwoman," he said to J'day, "for some extra hands if you need them. Caring for two dragons is time-consuming, especially on top of your regular duties."

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

"Go on, we've kept you from your dinner long enough."

"Thank you, sir. Weyrwoman, Wingleaders."

With another nod and partial bow, J'day maneuvered through the hall and into the kitchen to assemble a parcel of food. He used the tunnels to return to his weyr, then set dinner on the table while he divested Lioleth of her packs and brought everything inside. The two dragons happily curled up on the stone couches and J'day left the curtain open to encourage the heavy air to circulate. Getting the fire re-lit took a few more minutes, and then he woke up F'rian to eat.

Later that night he sat up, abruptly roused out of a sound sleep by a kick to the shins. He immediately looked across the sleeping couch. F'rian had somehow twisted himself about in the sheet while still hanging half-off the edge, and his face pressed into a pillow from which came the strange sounds. He kicked again.

"F'rian?" whispered J'day, tentatively reaching out to touch the man's shoulder. The greenrider shuddered, but he didn't wake up. "You are going to hurt yourself!" cried J'day, grabbing both shoulders and pulling him back on the furs.

The rider snapped awake in an instant, throwing off J'day's grip with a snarl. They wrestled violently for several minutes before F'rian abruptly went limp, breathing in light, pain-filled gasps. J'day stayed where he was for a minute longer, just to be sure, and then carefully sat up.

"F'rian?"

The man lay on his side, facing away, and shook off the hand J'day placed on his arm. Scowling, J'day yanked him back to face him, tucking the trembling man along his side and re-distributing the sheet and light blanket around them both.

"Quit being a wherry!" he snapped as F'rian jabbed him in the ribs with a pointy elbow. "Just be still. You're not thinking straight, just go back to sleep."

"I can't -- I can't, J'day! D-don't make me do this, please!

"Make you do what?" he retorted, lack of sleep and several new bruises making him cranky. "No one's making you do anything."

F'rian started to struggle again, moaning in renewed pain, but a firm grip on his shoulders and a leg adding weight to the lower body, kept the green rider immobile. His cries increased in both volume and desperation and J'day held on grimly.

"No! No, please! Let me go, let me go!"

Two dragons lowed, picking up on the distress and waking. J'day sent soothing thoughts to his bronze, but kept his arms in a tight grip on F'rian, the man now murmuring incoherently. The tableau held for what seemed like an eternity before F'rian collapsed once more, exhausted, and this time accepting J'day's embrace. Tears soon dripped on his shoulder, but J'day didn't voice any objections. The last of his adrenaline trickled away and he let his head thump back against the bed. The next thing he knew, an entirely too chipper voice filled his mind, chattering excitedly about the rain.

The man beside him groaned. "Lio, Lio, please, shut --" He shot up in bed, and then fell back with a moan of pain.

J'day grasped his shoulder, sitting up himself. "That was stupid, F'rian." He rubbed gritty eyes, but wasn't too tired to notice the white, stricken expression on the green rider's face, or the way he cringed away as J'day struggled up out of the furs. "Oh, by the egg, F'rian!" he cursed, too grouchy to be tactful. "I am not going to hurt you!"

He floundered his way free, pulling on a shirt and shivering as he crossed to the hearth. He stabbed at the coals for several minutes before getting the fire going again, plenty of time to cool his temper. He approached the sleeping couch with something of trepidation, but forced himself to act calmly. The greenrider, he saw, was making a half-hearted attempt to straighten the bedfurs and looked up guiltily for a moment before looking away.

"Most likely," sighed J'day, deciding to ignore both their outbursts, "you've gone and inflamed your back again, so I think the first order of business is a long soak, and then I'll get some more of the salve worked in. I'll have tea ready in a moment."

Unexpectedly docile, F'rian just nodded. In the dim light of the early morning, his face and eyes looked red and puffy. J'day just sighed and knelt down to work a shoulder under the taller rider's arm.

"Come on then, it's just this way a little."

With F'rian safely ensconced in the steaming bathing pool, J'day stepped out onto the ledge with the dragons, to spend a few minutes leaning into his bronze's unstinting love and acceptance. Lioleth head-butted him and, with a sigh, J'day scratched her eyeridges, too.

I don't know, Gib, he said to his dragon. Am I doing the right thing?

You like him, replied Gibbrenth. You have always liked him. Is it not what we do, pursue what we want until they are ours?

He doesn't like me.

Lioleth says her rider does.

Hmm, I don't know, Gib.

She knows he hurts but can do nothing. The dragon's mind-tone smirked. That is what you are for.

Me? That green is --

You are good for him.

"Why, you conniving little wretch!" J'day was so astonished he spoke out loud. He laughed. "You're just infatuated with that manipulative ..." he couldn't think of an invective strong enough ... "green!"

You are good for him, and he for you.

What do you know about it?

You are lonely. Do you think you can hide that from me?

Oh, Gib, I didn't mean for you to be unhappy!

I am not. Am I not the most successful male in the weyr? The dragon sat up, pushing out his chest in pride.

J'day laughed. You are the best bronze on Pern! For a moment longer they shared a quiet embrace, and then J'day broke away. The dining hall was busy, but he was easily able to grab what he wanted and return to the weyr. Sticking his head into the bathing room, he checked on F'rian.

"You ready to come out?"

F'rian nodded. "I do feel better, J'day, thank you."

J'day grinned. "You're welcome." He walked across, laid out a couple towels and heaved F'rian to a sitting position before throwing another towel across his shoulders. "Let me get you some breeks, I'll be right back."

He wrestled free a pair of F'rian's pants from the pack he'd made up the previous night and returned to help him get dressed. Only, standing there with the pants in hand, J'day had no idea how to go about the situation and F'rian just sat there, dark red from blushing, draped in towels.

"Uh, perhaps the ointment first?" he finally suggested.

The greenrider nodded, and winced as J'day threw the pants back into the other room. "You," he panted as they struggled back to the sleeping couch, "have never played the nursemaid before, have you?"

"That was not a part of my early education, no," J'day replied. "Are you telling me you have?"

"Hardly." He grunted, eyes closing briefly as he sat down on the edge of the couch. "Hand them to me?"

"Um, sure. Here. Oh," he added after a minute. "Clever. All right, hold still while I figure out how to put that splint back on."

"So it rained?"

"Still raining," J'day replied. "Your Lioleth was out enjoying herself earlier."

"She would. She can remember her hatching day, but can't seem to remember that it rained just a couple sevendays ago. Each time it's like the first time."

Looking up, J'day saw F'rian smile, and felt his chest expand as he chuckled. "Okay, that's done. Lie back."

"Ow, owow," the greenrider murmured a minute or two later.

"Yeah, you're tight alright," J'day said, rubbing in the salve. "You need to take it easy today."

"I am not going to stay in bed all day."

"Well, I can prop you up on the lounge chair, I suppose. You know, I brought those drawings back, the ones you seemed to be working on before."

A line of muscles tensed across F'rian's shoulders. "You went through my things?"

"No, I just gathered up the loose pictures. Looked like you were doing something with them, maybe you can finish --"

"I didn't ask you to do that."

"No, but I thought --"

"I'll thank you not to mess with things that are mine!" Tilting his chin back, F'rian glared at J'day from over his shoulder.

"Hey!" he protested. "I was just trying to be helpful."

"Faranth take your sharding help!"

"You know, you should really --" J'day tapped a pressure point, deflating the greenrider instantly -- "not provoke a man capable of doing that."

F'rian gasped wordlessly for a few minutes, plenty of time for J'day to finish working in the salve.

"That," growled F'rian as he rolled over and slid into the shirt J'day obligingly fetched, "was dirty."

"You started it."

He slid an arm around F'rian's shoulders and helped him limp his way to a seat on the lounge. J'day went back for more pillows to make him comfortable, and slid one of the furs over his lap. They broke their fast in an almost companionable silence, munching on pasties and sipping lukewarm klah.

"I really appreciate this," the greenrider said awkwardly. "I mean, all of this, not having to stay in the infirmary and all."

"You're welcome, though I can't say as I'd have made the offer if I'd known what I was getting into." He shot the other rider a teasing smile, pleased to see F'rian return the gesture, if a little nervously. "You want those drawings then?"

"Yes, thank you."