Learning to Walk, a City Hospital Novel (10 page)

“No, we’ve still got over a half hour. Are you done, though? Just because it’s booked for an hour and half doesn’t mean you have to stay in the entire time.”

“I’m done,” Kit said regretfully. “Need that leg massage, I think. Can you help me get back up and to my chair, please?”

“Yeah. We’ll do the massage downstairs in the therapy room -- it’ll be far more comfortable for you on a table.” Neil slid out of the water and brought Kit’s chair over where it needed to be.

Kit nodded, and the next couple of minutes were taken up by concentration as Kit and Neil got Kit back into the chair. Kit, thankfully, had taken to working as hard as he could at just about everything -- even after he’d worked out and Neil knew he had to be tired, Kit would do as much as he could to lift his own body. “Are there robes in the therapy room? I don’t want to get cold now that I’m all mellow.”

“We’ll hit the changing room first, get you back into your street clothes.” No way he was letting Kit catch a cold or pneumonia or anything like that.

“Okay. I brought running shorts today. The irony didn’t escape me, I assure you. And fleece track pants for over them, too. Some days it’s like I pack for a weekend to come here.”

He chuckled like he knew Kit expected him to. “Leave the track pants off -- we’ll get those on you after the massage.”

Unlocking the chair, he grabbed the handles and wheeled Kit toward the changing rooms.

They had the changing room to themselves, too, since they hadn’t used all their time. Kit toweled his short hair and tugged on a T-shirt. “Thanks for this. It was fun.”

“I’m glad we found something you like doing so much. It makes therapy so much easier if you aren’t hating on it constantly.”

Kit made a face and nodded. “It’s not even that I hate therapy, it’s just that it goes on and on and on and the rewards take so long to show. It’s frustrating and really hard work, you know? My shrink says my patience is being hampered because I haven’t let go of my anger yet.”

“I bet he’s right. Hell, look at today -- you were propelling yourself through the water with your legs.”

“You beat me,” Kit pointed out. “I mean, you think you beat me. I really won, in the universe that is my reality.”

“I beat you fair and square in any universe.”

Kit snorted and dried his legs. “And are you proud of that? Beating the crippled guy?”

“Oh, now you’re bringing that into it -- you were the one who set the terms.”

Kit showed no remorse. “And you set the prize.” He got himself changed, once more looking smug.

“Yeah, I did...” So maybe he’d beaten Kit in the pool, but Kit had somehow won anyway, as Neil was going to be getting a massage at Kit’s place in the near future. Kit’s hands on his body and on Kit’s home turf at that. How was he going to keep this professional?

“No backing out.” Kit stuffed things in his bag and tossed his towel into the bin. “Ready? My hips are starting to ache.”

Neil threw on his own clothes and nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good. Let’s get you on to that table and work on that.”

At least this particular massage was going to be in public.

Chapter Six

Kit took a look around the living room and nodded to himself. He and his dad had cleaned up pretty well the day before, since Saturday was cleaning day at their house. It had been that way when his mom was alive and it always would be -- Saturday, the house got shiny.

His father, knowing that Neil was coming over, had planned an actual excursion for himself, to Kit’s utter delight. He’d be gone for hours, puttering around doing some errands, seeing some friends, and generally having a day to himself. Kit planned to order pizza for supper, and if his dad didn’t come home until after dark that was okay. He could amuse himself just fine.

Right then, though, he was making sure that he and Neil could move things out of the way easily for his massage. He was more than sure that he wouldn’t be able to talk Neil into his bedroom, even if he did try, so the couch was going to need a lot of area around it.

The doorbell rang, precisely at two.

Kit shook his head and wheeled through the kitchen to open the door. “Do you ever wind up walking slower to a place so you don’t get there early?”

“Yep. All the time. Or I wait around the corner or something.” Neil looked startled at his own words, like he hadn’t meant to confess the truth.

Kit blinked at him and grinned. “Well, for me you can come right to the door, especially if it’s raining or cold, all right?”

“I can try.”

“Good. I try hard, you try hard.” Kit moved back to let him in. “Dad’s gone out for the day, but there’s some cut-up veggies and stuff for us to snack on, and I think there’s beer in the fridge. Yes, I know the two don’t go together.”

Neil laughed and held up a bag. “My nachos and salsa might work with the beer.”

“Perfect.” Kit went to the living room. “So, music? TV? How was your day yesterday? Do anything cool?”

“Errands, boring shit. TV would be distracting -- a massage is supposed to be relaxing, right?”

“You’re going to have to pick the music, then. We’ve talked about this.” Kit opened the cabinet and showed him all the CDs. “Make it something really long.” He was totally going to get as much out of this massage as he could get.

Neil laughed and started looking through the music.

“So, I’m not sure how well the couch is going to work, but it’s at least long enough. And it’s pretty deep, but it’s kind of soft.” Kit had been speculating about the couch for days, finally deciding that getting a new one just for a massage was probably not a good idea.

“Or I could kneel in front of you or something -- that way you wouldn’t have to bend as far.”

Kit stared at Neil to keep his brain from derailing. Neil on his knees in front of him was not where this massage was supposed to go. Mind you, he’d think about it a lot, hopefully after he was safely alone in bed later. “Um.” Kit shook his head to clear it. “I was thinking I’d lie down, but that might not work for you?”

Neil frowned. “You were thinking you’d lie down? I thought I was getting the massage here.”

Kit threw back his head and laughed. He’d honestly given it his best shot. If Neil had gone for it, Kit would have totally won the universe. “Damn. I can’t get anything by you at all, can I?” He liked that -- a lot of people would have just nodded and gone along. “You don’t think I can sit on the edge of the couch and do it, though?” He was pretty sure he could.

“That doesn’t sound very comfortable for you.”

“But you getting a massage on your knees doesn’t sound like a great time, either,” Kit pointed out.

“Have you got a low chair, or a stool?”

Kit thought about it. “There might be something in the basement,” he said slowly. “But I’m not sure. Everything is sorted down there -- it’s a lot of stuff that was my mom’s, but it’s all shelves or in labeled boxes. My Dad is pretty organized.”

“You want me to go check?”

“Better you than me,” Kit said with a laugh. “The trip back up could be an issue.”

“Hey, am I allowed to poke around for boxes labeled baby pictures?”

Kit’s jaw fell open, then snapped shut. “You could, but you won’t find any.” The baby photos were all safely in an album not six feet from where they were, under a coffee-table book about Scotland.

“How come?”

“Because I know where they are, and they aren’t in the basement.”

“Cool -- we can look at them when you’ve finished with the massage.”

“I don’t think that was part of the bet.” Kit was not going to show off his baby photos. Oh, hell, no.

“No, it wasn’t, but I thought it might be a nice after-massage activity.”

Kit had been planning on drinking beer and eating pizza as an after-massage activity. “We’ll see,” he said, not intending to give up any baby pictures at all. “Now, since I’d rather like to touch you, we should get this whole thing underway, don’t you think?”

Neil rolled his eyes. “Perv.”

“Don’t you want me to touch you?” Kit was pretty sure Neil did, indeed, want that.

“Shut up. Where’s this much vaunted basement of yours?”

Grinning but resisting the victory fist pump, Kit directed Neil to the basement door. “The room on the right is all storage and the one on the left is what Dad calls his workshop. I think it’s where he hid from Mom, but what do I know? I’ve never been married.”

“And the stool would be...” Neil pointed to the right and to the left.

“Beats me. Try Dad’s shop.”

“Gee, thanks.” Neil laughed and headed down the basement.

Kit hung out at the top. “I’ve only lived here since the accident,” he protested. “I haven’t been down in the basement for years. If there’s monsters don’t tell me; I have to sleep tonight.”

Neil came trotting back up the stairs, a little stool in hand. “No monsters -- just me.”

“Huh, and we even have a stool. Although you do realize that this way won’t be nearly as much fun as lying down. Maybe next time I’ll swim faster than you.” Kit grinned and headed back to the living room.

“Ha! See? I did win.”

“Only in the very strictest sense of the word.” Kit gestured toward the living room. “After you.”

“Only in the sense that I beat your ass at the lap, and now I get the prize. I’m pretty sure that’s the very definition of winning.” Neil waved the stool around. “Where do you want me?”

“Where you’re not ready to be,” Kit told him with a sunny grin. Honesty could be a weapon sometimes, and all was fair in love, war, and winning bets. “But for now I think that over there by the couch would be fine. You can sit in front of me and then flop onto it when we’re done. I have magic fingers, you know.”

“I’m hoping you do, because otherwise this was a bit of a dud as a prize.” Neil gave him a wink and set the stool by the couch before sinking onto it.

Kit snorted. “I’ve been using my hands for weeks and weeks now to compensate and navigate. I’ll make your spine melt.” Kit rolled up behind Neil and locked his wheels. “By the way, my father was wondering when he should buy me a cane -- he’s got his eye on a fancy walnut number he figures he’ll use when he’s old and I’m mobile.”

“Tell him to get it. The sooner you have that carrot in front of you, the quicker you’ll get there.” Neil sat there, waiting for him to start, not making any attempt to take his shirt off or anything.

Kit weighed his options. He could be bold, he could be blunt, or he could be seductive -- which was probably the nicest, but the most likely to get him in trouble with Neil. Dropping his hands to Neil’s shoulders he rubbed slowly over the cloth, just starting off. “Eventually I’m going to ask you to take off your shirt,” he said. “But not yet.”

“Practicing restraint? I’m impressed.”

“It’s my new plan. I’m lulling you. Is it working?”

Neil snickered. “I don’t know -- you probably had a better chance with it if you hadn’t divulged your plan.”

“I monologue, it’s true. Bad habit.” Kit smiled and kept rubbing, his fingers starting to work at a knot of tension he’d found just below Neil’s neck. “Hush now. I’m working.”

Neil groaned, head dropping down as he let Kit work. That was better. Kit concentrated on what he was doing, feeling carefully along muscles and bones and pressing here and there as he rubbed. He tried not to push too hard, since he knew he didn’t like massage that was painful, but Kit really did want to leave Neil feeling better than he had when he’d arrived.

After a couple of minutes, Kit worked his way back to Neil’s neck, pressing with his thumbs along the ridges of Neil’s spine. “Time to let me at skin,” he said.

He didn’t know if it was his approach or the fact that he’d managed to relax Neil, but Neil took off his T-shirt without argument or comment.

Kit ran his hands over the smooth expanse of Neil’s shoulder blades. “Lean over just a little bit. Thank you.” He went back to work, making it a point not to leer, smirk, tease, or in any other way put Neil on his guard. That would be counter-active to the massage, after all. There was time enough to tease him later.

Quiet groans and even softer moans sounded as Kit worked, Neil relaxing more with every rub, every stroke.

He could get used to those sounds. Kit kept going, down Neil’s back to his waist and then back up, working out along each rib. Neil’s skin was starting to glow from the rub, and Kit had to resist a sudden urge to lean over and lick Neil’s spine.

“Okay, I have to admit it -- you have amazing hands. I think I’m totally melted.”

“Time to slide to the couch?” Kit stopped massaging but kept touching, his hand flat on Neil’s back. “You can even take a nap, if you want.”

“Oh, I won’t nap -- that’d be rude.” Neil did move over to the couch, though, lying on his back, a pillow under his head.

Kit sat back, pleased. “Would you like something to drink?”

“That would rock.” Neil really did look melted, happily relaxed.

There was beer in the fridge, but Kit got Neil some ice water and brought in a dish of cut fruit. The beer and pizza could wait until later. “So, when I win next time, you’re going to do the same, right?”

“You know it. What happens if I win again?”

“Well, that’s up to you, isn’t it? I mean, aside from me being very put out, lodging complaints, demanding to see the photo finish and stuff like that.”

“I know you don’t want me to let you win.”

“Of course not.” Kit grinned. “Doesn’t matter, since it’s all hypothetical. I’m gonna whip your butt.” He popped a grape into his mouth.

“Are not -- unless you mean like with a literal whip.” Neil made a face, like he’d just heard what he’d said. “And even then you are not!”

Kit laughed softly. “Not one for whips? Have we already discussed spanking? How about a little light bondage?” He couldn’t imagine Neil going for any of that stuff.

Neil’s eyes bugged out. “You’re not serious.”

“No.” Kit started to laugh. “I like my fun times without all the trimmings. Basic entry level positions and everything.”

“Basic entry level... oh God, that was bad.” Neil half-groaned, half laughed.

“You didn’t like that?” Kit grinned. “I have a lot more bad jokes.”

Neil groaned again, then winked at him.