1x1 -- Curious and Stormy

[Curious]

Chyhir watched with a small smile as Scott drifted off to sleep. He felt just as tired, but his work wasn't done, yet. He would stitch Scott's wound, check his other patient, and then go to bed; and that's what he did.
Some time later, he awoke with heavy limbs, sore from yesterday's adventure. His eyes felt sticky and heavy as he opened them, sitting up with a yawn. He'd decided to sleep until he medical bay in an open cot just in case Scott or the hostage fellow needed him. He brushed his hair out of his face and padded between the two patients, first checking the still-unconscious man and then Scott. He settled down at the foot of Scott's bed, crossing his legs beneath him.
As he gazed through heavy-lidded eyes at Scott's sleeping face, he wondered whether he would care if he touched his hair. Perhaps it would soothe him, but it was just as possible that he would be annoyed by it, so he decided against it. Instead, he settled for reading his little book.

[stormy tom]

The villager eventually woke up, lucid and happy to answer a few questions from Sam as the man came down to check on things. Not long and he'd be ready to head back to the village for the rest of his recovery.
Sam then turned back to Scott. He gave his sleeping Captain a once over, then headed back to the cockpit.
A little while later he came hurrying down again.
"Chyhir, we have to go. The navy just came into orbit. We're dropping the chieftain at his village then we're leaving this planet for good," Sam was pulling a couple of warm blankets out of their drawer and wrapping them around his shivering Captain, reaching over and strapping him to the cot.
Then he ran back to the cockpit and the ship took off.
They flew low across the planet's surface, landing again near the village so Bolt and Halia could hurry to the med bay and practically carry the chieftain off. The old woman came to meet them, along with a few others, offering their thanks and taking the man to the safety of the old woman's home where he could continue to rest.
Then the ship took off again, sailing out of orbit. They were back amongst the stars in no time.

Scott continued to sleep for a few more hours. At last he woke up, trying to sit up, touch his face, anything, but he couldn't. He was strapped in.
"Sam," he growled. "Arms, Sam...."
Scott didn't like being strapped in, especially not when he arms were included in the system and he couldn't free himself. He guessed they had taken off, else he wouldn't need to be secured to bed in case he fall off.
His leg throbbed and his body felt warm instead of cold, but he couldn't do anything about it but lie there.

[Curious]

When they were back into space, safe from the Navy, Chyhir noticed Scott was awake. He jogged across the room to him and untied the straps securing him to the bed.
"Sorry, Scott. Sam did that to make sure you didn't roll off the bed when we took off. We've dropped the hostage off on his planet and now we're traveling again," he explained as he tucked the bonds under the cot.
Once he had undone all of the straps, he observed Scott's condition.
"You aren't looking so good," he remarked in surprise, "how are you feeling?" He hastened to place his palm on his forehead. "Geez, you're burning up. Do you feel feverish at all? Perhaps you've caught sick... It's unlikely that you've developed any sort of infection; I was sure to disinfect your injury..."

[stormy tom]

Scott held still as he waited to be free, instantly pulling his arms into the open when the straps were released. Ah, that was better. Sam always tugged the straps tightly, with no hope of slipping his arm free.
"I doubt it's infected, Chyhir, I probably just overworked myself," Scott explained calmly "A bit more rest and I can probably sleep it off. I haven't gotten sick I'm ages so maybe it's about time. But I do need some water," he said, pushing his torso off the bed and just about to push off the blankets and put his legs on the floor.

[Curious]

"Ah! No. No walking yet, you already stretched your wound out enough. I'll get it." After making frantic gestures in order to stop Scott's movements, he hurried off and back again with a glass of water. "Here, trooper."
Once his companion had taken the glass, he placed his hands on his hips in front of Scott and blew his hair out of his face. When that failed to work, he flicked his head to the side. Man, he needed some hairpins, or something. He made a face, going cross-eyed as he glared at the strands between his eyes, then pulled them off to the side with his fingers.
What a nuisance. Lucky I don't have to perform surgery often, minus stitching, he thought as he began tidying up the bed where the villager had lain.
"You wouldn't happen to have any hairpins on you, per chance?" he asked over his shoulder.

[stormy tom]

Scott froze at Chyhir's frantic gestures and returned to his laid-out position. He sat up again to drink. The cool water made him feel a lot better.
As he drank the glass dry he watched Chyhir play with his hair. Adorable. Scott's steady blue gaze stared calmly at the doctor. He put the glass aside. "You might be able to get some off of Bolt. I don't own any, and I don't think many of us do. Sam wouldn't have use for them, or Halia... Most of us have pretty short hair."
Come to think of it, my bangs are getting pretty long. Scott was probably one of the few crew members who could benefit from a hair pin or two.

[Curious]

While he toyed with his hair he could feel a gaze on him, more specifically, Scott's, of course. He was staring. He supposed he probably looked rather silly and clumsy, getting frustrated over such a little thing as hair in his eyes. For what felt like the millionth time, his cheeks brightened with embarrassment.
Maybe I should try acting like a normal person for once and not like a toddler, he scolded himself. No wonder you keep getting babied over--you act like a baby.
"Thanks. I'd ask her for one the next time I see her, but I'm honestly kinda scared of her. She looks like someone you generally wouldn't want to get on the bad side of and I have a tendency to screw up social situations." He sat down across from him and rubbed his arm with a sheepish expression. "I feel really cowardly about it. I probably shouldn't have told you."
What did I just tell you, Chyhir?

[stormy tom]

"Trust me, I'm not exactly Mr. Smooth myself," Scott replied, amused. He stayed sitting, tugging one of the blankets toward him, bundling it up and tucking it under his injured leg. "Diplomacy is about as much as I'm good at. Relaxed conversation is a little harder." Yet suddenly so easy... I don't think I've met anybody so easy to talk to. And I hate small talk.
"Bolt's a little scary, I'll admit," he added. "At first, anyway, and if you don't get in her way. She could take you down with just a wrench in her hand, but she's actually quite nice. A little brisk, but she's only part human so many of her natural mannerisms and instincts are reptilian. If you're ever in a fight, you definitely want her on your side. Her reflexes are incredible, and she's stronger than any human. We haven't tried it, but she might be able to beat Sam at arm wrestling. Even him out, at least."
Scott looked uncharacteristically casual, yet the look suited him. His grey cotton t-shirt hung more loosely around his body and his hair was uncombed and far more unruly than usual. The pink flush his face had from the light fever made him look younger, more child-like, almost vulnerable, as it added a softness to his features that wasn't usually there. He was too tired and sore to be stern.
Even his eyes had adopted a soft, almost damp quality, eyelids heavier than usual and the sharpness gone. For now, anyway.
He looked at Chyhir with a relaxed face, clearly enjoying the company.
"The next scheduled mission is far less dangerous than this one," Scott added. "We're going to do some business with a big corporation. It's a peaceful planet, but it's run by power-hungry business men who conduct violent activities on other planets from their skyscrapers many light years away."

[Curious]

"You seem to be doing just fine with relaxed conversation from what I can tell," Chyhir chuckled, fiddling with the bulky ring on his right hand. "Better than I am, at least. I can't count how many times I've embarrassed myself in front of you and we haven't even had that much time to talk."
Hearing about the other crewmates interested Chyhir. He'd socialized with them even less than he had Scott. He hardly knew any of their names and he was going to spend years with them, or he so presumed, so he may as well learn about them.
"I usually tend to get along with her type of people after I'm used to them. Personality-wise, I mean. Maybe that's why I get along with you so well--your personality seems similar in the sense that you both tend to be serious on the outside and more friendly after breaking your walls. So maybe I'll end up being friends with her. But one never really can tell."
Chyhir drew a leg up onto the edge of the mattress, his chin propped on his knee.
"Still sounds pretty dangerous to me, but at least I know the basics of an Endeavor mission, now. I'm sure I'll be emotionally hardened and muscular soon enough. I'll make you proud, Captain," he teased.

[stormy tom]

Am I like that? Really? I suppose it's a defence mechanism. I've got every reason to be slow to trust... besides hiding emotions and controlling them is a valuable skill in my field. It's kept me alive many times over.
Scott lifted an eyebrow, enjoying Chyhir's thoughts on his personality, and his other observations. "Lots of get on pretty well because we're all sort of misfits in one way or another, or just similar in personality and cause. Bolt and I are pretty similar in lots of ways, and I can respect her desire for independence and solitude, as well as brevity. She's horribly concise. I always tell her she'd make a good German."
He enjoyed talking about his crew with Chyhir. It had been a long time since anyone new had joined.
Chyhir's final comments made him laugh. Scott's voice was deeper than a person might expect out of the lean blonde Anglo-German. His laugh was genuine and came from a place deep in his chest. "Things are always dangerous when I'm involved, that's a guarantee. And don't worry, you'll have plenty of practise to get used to how things run round here. But you're right, that was fairly standard. A little more chaotic than usual, but standard. Don't worry about emotional hardness or muscularity or anything. Not everybody is built like a brick house like Sam, or naturally strong like Bolt. Me, for example. I've tried putting on a little more muscle mass but my body's just not made to be thick like Sam. I can barely throw a proper punch. That's why I generally try to stay out of fist fights. You don't have to change to fit in here. You're fine just the way you are."
And he meant it.