[ Mako is indescribably glad that Wu is back. He smiles (it's faint, barely a crease of his lips, but it's there) and leans down to push a soft kiss against Wu's lips. ]
[ Wu pouts at him, but he gratefully accepts the kiss, leaning in for a moment. ]
Yes. You do. I want you to sleep in this bed with me and Fritter. We can do, um, the more fun kind of sleeping together later, when I'm better. Because, honestly, I don't think I have it in me, and that's saying something because I think you're a dish.
The thing about Wu is that even though he has just died, and even though Mako has been through the ringer in the last week, has had every last feeling wrenched out of him and shoved back in a tangled awful mess, even though he is death-sick and spent the last twenty minutes crying on Mako—
He makes Mako laugh. Every time, even when he shouldn't. It happened back in Republic City, too, in the middle of some party when Wu would lean over and murmur something about somebody's clothes or what they'd said, and Mako would have to bite down on laughter.
It's kind of a relief and kind of nonsense, and it takes Mako a moment to even process what a dish is supposed to mean (something out of a mover, something Ginger gets called in the news, but Mako is not Ginger by a long shot).
But he's laughing, incredulous, maybe a little hysterical himself, as he drops his head against Wu's forehead. ]
You can't just go around calling people things like that.
[ The laughter is at once annoying and heartening, and when Wu decides that he isn't being laughed at, he joins in weakly.
He watches Mako. He really is beautiful when he laughs. His nose scrunches up, and the serious gaze he's always carrying softens and Wu loves it. He loves making Mako laugh.
He's so close now, forehead pressed against Wu's, and Wu closes his eyes, so glad that he's here. ]
He gets a mint tea to help soothe Wu's throat, and a few bags of chamomile in case he can't sleep (spirits know Mako couldn't when he had the deathflu; he was exhausted and sleepless all at the same time), painkillers he'd stolen from the pharmacy in October, some of Korra's sleep pills, and a whole entire pot of soup. Perks of being a firebender: he doesn't have to leave the room to heat anything up, so it can all stay here, covered, while they nap.
And Mako fully intends to do that. The light is still off, and the sun outside has dipped low, so the room is a dark and quiet place when he comes back in on socked feet.
He presses everything onto the dresser and sinks down onto the edge of the bed with only a thermos of the mint tea. ]
Here. This'll help. There's medicine to help with your arm until we can get Korra to look at it.
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no subject
Do I?
no subject
Yes. You do. I want you to sleep in this bed with me and Fritter. We can do, um, the more fun kind of sleeping together later, when I'm better. Because, honestly, I don't think I have it in me, and that's saying something because I think you're a dish.
no subject
The thing about Wu is that even though he has just died, and even though Mako has been through the ringer in the last week, has had every last feeling wrenched out of him and shoved back in a tangled awful mess, even though he is death-sick and spent the last twenty minutes crying on Mako—
He makes Mako laugh. Every time, even when he shouldn't. It happened back in Republic City, too, in the middle of some party when Wu would lean over and murmur something about somebody's clothes or what they'd said, and Mako would have to bite down on laughter.
It's kind of a relief and kind of nonsense, and it takes Mako a moment to even process what a dish is supposed to mean (something out of a mover, something Ginger gets called in the news, but Mako is not Ginger by a long shot).
But he's laughing, incredulous, maybe a little hysterical himself, as he drops his head against Wu's forehead. ]
You can't just go around calling people things like that.
no subject
He watches Mako. He really is beautiful when he laughs. His nose scrunches up, and the serious gaze he's always carrying softens and Wu loves it. He loves making Mako laugh.
He's so close now, forehead pressed against Wu's, and Wu closes his eyes, so glad that he's here. ]
Why not? It's true.
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[ There's no heat to the words, really; Mako is smiling, brushes a kiss against his cheek and sort of against his nose, and then stands. ]
Be right back. Then we'll, uh. Sleep together.
no subject
[ He smiles dizzily after Mako, not wanting him to leave, but at least he'll come back. Wu gathers Fritter closer to himself. ]
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How about just "Mako"?
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[ Wu calls after him, trying to swallow down the coughing that causes.
He settles back down in the pillows, waiting for Mako to come back. ]
no subject
He gets a mint tea to help soothe Wu's throat, and a few bags of chamomile in case he can't sleep (spirits know Mako couldn't when he had the deathflu; he was exhausted and sleepless all at the same time), painkillers he'd stolen from the pharmacy in October, some of Korra's sleep pills, and a whole entire pot of soup. Perks of being a firebender: he doesn't have to leave the room to heat anything up, so it can all stay here, covered, while they nap.
And Mako fully intends to do that. The light is still off, and the sun outside has dipped low, so the room is a dark and quiet place when he comes back in on socked feet.
He presses everything onto the dresser and sinks down onto the edge of the bed with only a thermos of the mint tea. ]
Here. This'll help. There's medicine to help with your arm until we can get Korra to look at it.