trashchildren | For Joan

She leans into him happily, able to redirect her energy into the kiss, and into one hand slipping under his shirt, just to touch his bare skin.

Ted makes a small noise at that, and pulls back a little from the kiss. "Um.." he says gently. "Are you sure you want to...?" He doesn't finish the sentence, but he can obviously see where this is heading.

She gives him a small nod. "If you want to. You'll have to be gentle with me." She lifts her other hand to tuck back a lock of his hair that's fallen over his forehead. Her hand is still trembling, her nervous system still damaged. But she still wants to be with him like this, to find solace and comfort in this expression of love for one another.

"I know you'll be gentle," she whispers.

He still hesitates a bit, reluctant but trying to hide it, or just pass it off as concern on her behalf. But he wants to make her feel good, and she deserves that, so he pushes past the feeling and leans in to kiss her again anyway.

(Clearly he didn't fully process the 'if you want to' part.)

She notices that reluctance and his attempt to hide it, and it concerns her. When he leans in to kiss her again she kisses him back with a soft, brief kiss before pulling back a little.

"Hey," she says softly, her eyes on his. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to."

Ted opens his mouth to answer, but hesitates, not sure what to say. Which is probably all the answer Joan needs.

It's just... been a very long day. An exhausting day, both emotionally and physically. He's been putting all his remaining energy this evening into making Joan happy, into being what she needs, and putting all his own stuff aside. And while he absolutely could continue doing so by going down on her, he finds it difficult to actually find the energy to convince her.

There's also the fact that Sherlock is in the other room, but then he's used to having a kid in the house while he's having sex, so that part he can probably deal with. Though Sherlock is a lot more observant and intelligent than a 10 year old.

That hesitation gives Joan her answer. She's a little disappointed, but they can try again later if he feels up to it.

"It's okay," she says, leaning forward to rest her head on his shoulder. "We need to take it easy. Do you want to call Sherlock in so we can sleep?"

"Oh, I need to go take my evening meds anyway," he answers. The fact his pain is slowly returning probably isn't helping matters.

He feels bad, but realistically he knows there's only so much he can do. He just wishes he could do more. Simultaneously he's grateful that Joan doesn't demand more.

"Hey," he says, reaching up to cup her face and lift her head to look at him. "I love you," he says softly, giving her a smile and a soft kiss.

They're both tired and feeling the effects of their injuries, so it's really for the best that they not push things too far. They have time. There's going to be a long stretch with them cooped up to recuperate, and Joan is pretty sure they'll find the time and energy to have sex at some point.

"I love you," she answers, mirroring his smile and kissing him back just as softly.

His smile widens a little at the reciprocation. He knows she's disappointed, he just wants to make sure she's not too disappointed. Or that she thinks there's some other reason why he doesn't want to have sex. Because wanting to isn't really the problem.

"Alright, I'm gonna go get ready for bed," he says, moving a bit and helping her lie back down. "Need anything? Wanna brush your teeth?"

"As much as I would like to brush my teeth," she says as she lies down, "I'm not sure I feel like being carted into the bathroom. I could brush them in bed, maybe, if you or Sherlock are willing to deal with my spit." She frowns as she remembers her own medication. "I'll have to wake up to take my keppra at the 12 hour mark."

"We could get you a spit cup," he answers. "And set an alarm for the medication."

He gets to his feet, grabbing the crutch and heading for the bathroom, frowning gently at the pain in his legs. One broken, one probably developing sciatica. Lovely combo.

"Hey Sherlock, we're heading to bed. Well, to sleep," he says as he comes out of the bedroom. "Could you do me a favor and fetch a bunch of extra pillows?"

"Those will work," she says with a smile.

Sherlock is on his laptop again. He looks up as Ted emerges, and closes the laptop, tucking it under his arm as he stands.

"Certainly. She isn't sleeping yet, is she?"

"No, she's still awake, or I wouldn't leave," he answers. He'd either text Sherlock, or just come to the door and ask him to come before he left.

She can fall asleep very quickly though. So he turns around and peeks in the door. "You hear that? No going to sleep without us," he says, pretending to be stern, but smiling playfully through it anyway. He doesn't want to be overbearing, but it's more about acknowledging his and Sherlock's hypervigilance.

"Yes honey," she says, amused. She meant the term of endearment to be a tease, but discovered it actually feels nice.

Sherlock nods and heads toward the stairs. "I shall gather as many pillows as I can find."

He very much likes the endearment too. Ted grins and blows a quick kiss at her, before actually heading to the bathroom.

He takes his meds and then quickly brushes his teeth, mostly just focused on getting back to her.

He stacks the two plastic cups there into each other, filling the top one with water, and manages to grab both that, the toothpaste and Joan's toothbrush in one hand, so he can still use his crutch as he heads back.

"Here you go," he says, handing the cups to her. He keeps hold of the toothbrush, and goes ahead and puts some toothpaste on it for her, since he figures she doesn't have the fine motor control for it.

"You just go ahead and tell me to stop doing stuff like that for you if you want to do it yourself," he adds. He doesn't want toothpaste on the covers, but he doesn't want to baby her either.

As he's getting ready, Joan works herself back up to sitting. It's hard, but she's determined to do it by the time he returns. When he comes in she's managed to sit up against the headboard. She smiles at him, taking the cups carefully, her hands shaking a little, and nods at his words.

"I will." He's right, though...she wouldn't be able to put toothpaste on the toothbrush right now.

He hadn't even thought about the fact she's sitting up now until he thinks about it. He's glad she's capable of doing that at least, though he hopes she doesn't overexert herself.

He sits down down next to her while she brushes her teeth and they wait for Sherlock. He offers to take the cups back from her, splitting them so she can spit in the empty one, and sits there being a cupholder in the meantime.

She brushes her teeth carefully. It isn't easy with the current state of her fine motor skills and the weakness in her muscles, but she wants to do it on her own. When she's done she exchanges the toothbrush for the cups. She swishes the water around her mouth, and manages to spit it out into the other cup with only a small dribble down her chin that she wipes away with the back of her hand.

"Nice, now we're both minty fresh," he says with a smile, setting everything on the nightstand so Sherlock can take it away.

He gets to his feet again with a small grunt of discomfort, heading to his side. "I asked Sherlock for a bunch of pillows, that should help."

Almost on cue Sherlock enters, arms full of pillows.

"I hope these will be sufficient," he says, setting the pile on the bed. "221B is now entirely devoid of pillows."

Ted chuckles softly. He would've been fine with a couple fewer, but this is great.

"Thanks, that's perfect," he answers, arranging them so he can elevate his legs properly, as well as a thin pillow for underneath his back. Takes a bit of adjustment, but when he finally lies down, it helps considerably with the back and leg pain. "Ahh yeah, that's good," he says, sighing with relief.

As Ted is getting comfortable, Joan works on lying down again. Sherlock watches her but doesn't move, knowing Joan wants to do as much as possible on her own. When Ted is comfortable she carefully scoots toward him so she can nestle against him.

Ted leans over and gives her a quick goodnight kiss. "Sleep well," he says quietly.

He looks over at Sherlock. "Wake me if you need a nap or something?" It feels strange to be going to sleep with Sherlock watching over them, but it's not too different from how they were in the hospital.

"You too," she murmurs. "I love you."

She's not showing it, but she's a little scared. What if the medication doesn't work? What if she has another seizure? What if it's worse? Sherlock is looking out for her, but if something goes really wrong...

There's nothing she can do about it at this point, though, but trust Sherlock, trust Ted, trust Dr. Bergen, trust the medication. Trust everything is going to be okay.

Sherlock nods as he sits, settling in to watch Joan with the sort of singular focus he excels at.

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