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applecameron"Cup Of Soup"
B5, vignette, Marcus/Lennier
No spoilers -- wups! wait! Spoilers for...Z'Ha'Dum, the 3rd season finale.
by SV
Archived by author's permission
"You don't look well."
"Thank you, Lennier." Gathers energy for minor bounce-off-wall-rant. "You know, I always appreciate it when my nearest and dearest tells me I look like Death warmed over, or some other, overused, pithy --" Pause for breath (Good God, I _am_ sick, I'm in the middle of perfectly good rant and I can't maintain it.) "-- pithy phrase."
Close inspection on the part of one Minbari.
Marcus sat abruptly. Sighed. Looked down at his hands. Up at Lennier. "I feel like Death warmed over, damn it."
"Well," came the response, "I am not at all sure what Death warmed over is supposed to look like." All this was accompanied on the Minbari's part with gentle, insistent pressure that resulted in Marcus laying down on the low couch and having his boots removed. "Perhaps Captain Sheridan could shed some light on that issue." He found a warm coverlet and tucked it around the Ranger's body. "However. As I said earlier, you do not look well."
"Hmph. I hate being sick."
"Yes, well." Lennier tucked some more. "I'll get you some soup and you'll feel better."
"No I won't. I'm not hungry, anyways. And the lights hurt my eyes."
Unruffled, Lennier rose to his task. "If you eat, you will sleep, and if you sleep, the lights will not be hurting your eyes."
"Hmph."
Lennier scaled down the lighting and retreated, briefly.
Marcus kept his eyes closed and listened to the various rummaging noises that spelled impending soup. "Look, " he finally called out, "you're not one of those people who delights in the misfortune of others, are you?"
Calmly, "Are you asking me if the soup is going to taste bad?"
Pause. "Maybe. It rather depends on the answer."
Lennier was in front of him again, with a bowl. "You are...one of my 'nearest and dearest', and it does give me pleasure to offer you my hospitality when you do not feel at your best."
"Hmph. That bad a flavor?"
"It is quite good, Marcus." Lennier seated himself in a small section of open couch space.
"Nearest and dearest."
"Quite. Please, try a sip."
Lennier leaned against Marcus and something twitched, then subsided, under the blanket at his elbow. He stroked the area a little, holding the bowl in his other hand. Stroked absently, until Marcus moaned through his mouthful of soup. Breathed deeply, holding the liquid in his mouth. Then swallowed, keeping his eyes closed.
The Ranger blushed.
"I am sorry. Please, drink some more soup."
Another mouthful. "It's all right. My fault."
"Nearest and dearest." Lennier repeated softly.
The bulge was subsiding already. "Something like that."
Lennier ran one hand in a caress up the Ranger's blanketed form. Marcus sighed and relaxed completely. "Are you done with your soup?"
Light nod.
One more caress; Marcus melted into the couch completely with a happy sigh. "And?"
"Tasted like chicken."
B5, vignette, Marcus/Lennier
No spoilers -- wups! wait! Spoilers for...Z'Ha'Dum, the 3rd season finale.
by SV
Archived by author's permission
"You don't look well."
"Thank you, Lennier." Gathers energy for minor bounce-off-wall-rant. "You know, I always appreciate it when my nearest and dearest tells me I look like Death warmed over, or some other, overused, pithy --" Pause for breath (Good God, I _am_ sick, I'm in the middle of perfectly good rant and I can't maintain it.) "-- pithy phrase."
Close inspection on the part of one Minbari.
Marcus sat abruptly. Sighed. Looked down at his hands. Up at Lennier. "I feel like Death warmed over, damn it."
"Well," came the response, "I am not at all sure what Death warmed over is supposed to look like." All this was accompanied on the Minbari's part with gentle, insistent pressure that resulted in Marcus laying down on the low couch and having his boots removed. "Perhaps Captain Sheridan could shed some light on that issue." He found a warm coverlet and tucked it around the Ranger's body. "However. As I said earlier, you do not look well."
"Hmph. I hate being sick."
"Yes, well." Lennier tucked some more. "I'll get you some soup and you'll feel better."
"No I won't. I'm not hungry, anyways. And the lights hurt my eyes."
Unruffled, Lennier rose to his task. "If you eat, you will sleep, and if you sleep, the lights will not be hurting your eyes."
"Hmph."
Lennier scaled down the lighting and retreated, briefly.
Marcus kept his eyes closed and listened to the various rummaging noises that spelled impending soup. "Look, " he finally called out, "you're not one of those people who delights in the misfortune of others, are you?"
Calmly, "Are you asking me if the soup is going to taste bad?"
Pause. "Maybe. It rather depends on the answer."
Lennier was in front of him again, with a bowl. "You are...one of my 'nearest and dearest', and it does give me pleasure to offer you my hospitality when you do not feel at your best."
"Hmph. That bad a flavor?"
"It is quite good, Marcus." Lennier seated himself in a small section of open couch space.
"Nearest and dearest."
"Quite. Please, try a sip."
Lennier leaned against Marcus and something twitched, then subsided, under the blanket at his elbow. He stroked the area a little, holding the bowl in his other hand. Stroked absently, until Marcus moaned through his mouthful of soup. Breathed deeply, holding the liquid in his mouth. Then swallowed, keeping his eyes closed.
The Ranger blushed.
"I am sorry. Please, drink some more soup."
Another mouthful. "It's all right. My fault."
"Nearest and dearest." Lennier repeated softly.
The bulge was subsiding already. "Something like that."
Lennier ran one hand in a caress up the Ranger's blanketed form. Marcus sighed and relaxed completely. "Are you done with your soup?"
Light nod.
One more caress; Marcus melted into the couch completely with a happy sigh. "And?"
"Tasted like chicken."