Dr. Alan Grant

... What?

Um... It doesn't quite work like that. It's all up to chance.

And seriously... Antarctica? Nope, no thank you, not the biggest fan of the cold... I also don't believe it's one of those places where you can easily get access to... That is, um, certainly a choice....

[ Ian's fingers slowly lifted from the keys, trailing off his last notes as the room fell into silence. He turned to see Alan, fully immersed with a calmness much unlike what he had seen on the car ride back. His head tilted, awaiting the review from his singular audience member. From the way he opened his eyes, the smile on his face almost in disbelief, he knew it was going to be a good one. ]

"Oh, it-it was nothing, just a practice, really... I got taught to play since I was a child. It never caught on well until I began to learn to play Jazz, anything else I kind of... Nod off..."

[ Ian yawned, politely covering his mouth and even going so far as to excuse himself. One of the many things his parents had ingrained to him. With careful hands, he closed the piano lid, confident enough in his sleepless body to handle standing up and grabbing a plate of food at the same time. His leg however, had other plans. Malcolm's body twisted, the offending leg joint refusing to prop him up and he let out a loud 'Oh!' as he collided with Grant. A strong arm wrapped around his back, the plate miraculously not falling or dropping any food at all. There was a moment of silence as he looked down to see the other wide eyed, strands of hair falling on his face. He had never been this close to Alan before... That he can recall... ] [ Was he always this... Handsome? ]

"Ahah, ohh i'm fine, i'm fine..."

[ He said, giving Alan a reassuring chuckle while situating himself on the bed. His long body sprawled across the double mattress, long and gangly like a six-foot spider. Though his eyes were nothing short of disarming. Exhausted and hazy, but disarming. He picked at his food, not in any position to deny it feeling his stomach growl and churn. The pancakes came first, fluffy and soft with syrup well seeped into them. He couldn't help but let out a little groan of satisfaction. ]

"Mm, oh delicious. Your-your pancakes have already gotten my approval."

The dining area definitely seemed to be a bit too much for his leg right now, so he helped Ian onto the guest room's bed, making sure he was comfortable. He felt his cheeks warm as a response to the sound the other man had made in approval. Clearly, the pancakes are a hit! He smiled, his eyes glancing away, feeling a bit shy all of a sudden.

"Oh, well, thank you Ian, I mean it. I haven't cooked like this in a very long time, so I'm glad to hear I've still got it!"

They continued to finish up breakfast together, Alan listening to Ian rattle off about funny stories from his youth, the two of them laughing together. However, something has been nagging the back of his mind since arriving here. Just how bad were Ian's injuries? What exactly had happened? Alan didn't witness it. He had to turn around, focus on the childrens' safety, everything happened so fast... After they finished eating, before getting up to go clean up their dishes, Alan paused. His voice lowered, as if he was talking about something forbidden.

"Oh, well... I don't blame you for not visiting if- if that helps. In fact, I would have preferred it, I was a total mess. The turnicate and bandage was... Covering a lot of damage, I mean the-, the amount of stitches, pins, they replaced my kneecap for gods sake, look!"

[ Ian reached over to shimmy his left pant leg upwards, the fabric bunching up at his thigh to show the result of his surgery. Deep stitch lines ran up his leg, more than Alan could even imagine. Small bumps indicated where pins had been inserted, just visible under the thick knee brace. He began to caress the side of it, thumb circling the rough surface as he spoke. It was a gesture to himself —or rather his leg— as if it was a separate being in need of comfort. ]

"Of course it’s harder to see with the brace but you um… You get the idea. The work that the doctors did was nothing short of miraculous, but... Ahh I don't know, art of me still wishes they had just cut it off.. Especially when it gets numb- ooowww ow ow..."

[ His whole body shivered at the sensation of sharp, pulsing pain all too familiar to him. His leg muscles spasmed for a few seconds, the thumping of his heart could be felt all the way from his ears down in his feet. ]

"Aaagh, it did not like that trip... Owwww........"

[ In an attempt to mitigate the pain, he gripped the muscles just above his brace, hissing and swearing under his breath. Even so, the vulnerability of being in pain in front of Grant chewed at him. He didn’t want pity, or to seem incapable, weak, useless… Ian shook those words out of his mind, giving Alan a firm yet comforting rub on his arm ]

“Ohh no no Alan, don’t worry it just- Mgh, it-it’ll go away…”

"You know," he began. "I've broken a leg once before. Right one." His hand went down lower, from Ian's thigh to his calf, calming the cramping muscle. "Long time ago. It wasn't very long after I earned my doctorate, actually... Must've been... Around 27, I think? I was eager to go out and do things on my own. I was out in Montana, the middle of nowhere in the badlands, I ended up driving a bit too far from the site, looking for things in the rocks others may have missed, when a cliff gave way and I fell into a ravine, inside the truck, too. I have no idea how far the drop truly was but it felt like a hundred feet. And of course, I was younger and full of myself and I wasn't prepared for any kind of emergency situation. My leg was in agony, it was all so sudden, I didn't realize what happened at first. The force of the fall broke my fibula. I had no choice but to survive. I didn't have any water or rope or anything on me. I had to climb out of that ravine, alone, and it took me four days to find the camp. I.... I, er, well, I certainly learned my lesson."

[ Ian looked down to see Alan had already taken to aiding him, massaging his leg. At first his brows pressed together in worry, jaw tight at his touch. Quickly he realised, like he has many times before, that Alan’s generosity had little bounds. It became more and more endearing as he did it, each time giving Ian a deep warmth he intended to hold onto for as long as he could. ]

“Four days? No water? Oh Alan, you poor thing… Geez, that’ll… That’ll knock some perspective into anyone. I’m sure that’s- Aaagh… That’s a cautionary tale for any of your students…”

[ He felt a groan rumble in his throat, laying back onto the mattress as Grant worked his leg. His rough, work-worn hands pressed and rubbed at the stiff calf muscles, popping the knots bundled up inside with a deep sigh of relief from Ian. Then his digits moved upwards, firm and deep as they dug into the hills and valleys of his thigh. ]

“Ohhh, Alan… Yes, right there…”

[ Indulgently, Ian arched his back before sinking deep into the bed, his upper body feeling limp and heavy. Even as a few internal bits of his knee popped or pinched, it was quickly overshadowed by the rest of his limb being pressed like dough so thoroughly he begins to feel a sense of relaxation he hasn’t felt in… Well… Years. ]

“Oh my goodness, you-you’re so good with your… Hmm… Your hands… Oh, my stretches? Well, I really should be doing them, or going out more in general.”

[ Ian let out a long, relieved sigh, positioning his hips in a way that tactically hid how… Excited… He got over the whole thing. He didn’t want to seem disrespectful, after all. Especially with the fantasies his mind had just conjured up. He looked up at Alan, his cheeks growing hotter by the second. ]

“Oh yes we did… Though you, what you did was… Monumental.”

"I suppose, but it still doesn't overshadow what you've been through, Ian." His tone was genuine. "Hm, you really should be doing your stretches, you can really mess something up if you don't keep moving..." He fretted again softly, like a mother hen. Alan truly had a natural instinct for caregiving no matter how hard he tried to deny it, to be the stone cold image of traditional masculinity. But this is Ian Malcolm, he thought to himself, he nearly died, he deserves to have someone take care of him for once.

Once Ian's leg stopped spasming and cramping, Alan stood up, lifting his hand away from the leg, almost making Ian want to reach for more of his warm touch. "There we go..." He spoke softly. He began picking up and stacking the used dishes. "I'm going to go clean up, you need your rest. Let me know if you need anything, alright? I'll check back in on you when I'm done."

Alan's mind couldn't help but wander as he began washing the dishes, scrubbing the plates and letting the warm water run over his hands. That Ian Malcolm was truly something else to behold, his long, lean, delicately muscled body, as if he was carved from the finest Greek marble. The sounds of relief he made. All of the little movements he made in response to his hands. He couldn't stop thinking about him...

As he set down the final cup to dry, he suddenly remembered. Oh shit. It's shot day. He normally does it first thing in the morning, but staying in an unfamiliar place must've made it slip his mind. He quietly headed back to the guest room. Good. He breathed out in relief. Ian is asleep. He looks so peaceful, as if he hadn't had a good decent deep sleep in weeks. His mouth just ever so slightly hanging open, his plump lips parting with each breath. His heavy eyelids closed, his long eyelashes making him look ethereal. Alan couldn't help but pause and watch him for a moment.

God, he's stunning. Wait, what are you thinking?

He shook the thought away as he silently grabbed a small satchel at the side of the bed and headed into the bathroom as quietly as possible, he moved silently and quickly, as if he was being hunted. He shut the door with a quiet click and quickly began to get to work. He took out the tiny vial labelled testosterone and took out a syringe and began to suck up the clear liquid. This part of his routine was something he always kept hidden, intimate to himself, he wouldn't even allow Ellie to see him like this. Of course, she knew about his, well, condition, she was the only person in his life who knew... But he still kept it apart from her, not wanting her to make any deal out of it, he just wanted to get it over with every week and act as if nothing was different about him.

And what would Ian Malcolm think, if he found out? Alan didn't even want to bear the thought, his jaw clenched and throat tightened as the anxiety rose in his stomach.

He put the vial back in its tiny box, and put the lid back on the needle to swap to the one he uses to inject himself, when suddenly he heard a few steps and the door handle began to turn. His blue eyes turned icy, wide in fear, every muscle in his body tight as he froze.

[ Ian's eyes watered as he yawned and a deep grunt sounded in his throat. He blinked away the haze of his nap, which was much shorter than he had liked if the sun still being out was any indication. His dream was nothing short of indulgent, it made his face burn up just thinking about it. Nature called to him after his second jaw-aching yawn, so he gave up on the hope of having a longer sleep and made his way to the bathroom. In his sleep-fogged mind, he had forgotten to knock, the sight of Alan behind the door startling him enough to wake him up. ]

"Oh! Alan sorry I- I should have knocked... Ah, do you need help with that?"

[ It was instinctual, him offering to assist Alan in the injection of... Whatever it was. He could assume, he could ask or pry for information, but that —Ian thought— felt much too inappropriate. Truly it didn't matter if there was heroin in that damn vial, he would help Alan no matter what. It was that, or... Hormone injections? Wow, what are the odds... Actually, he was too tired to think about the odds as much as it fascinated him. ]

"No judgement of course. I just find it um... Easier if someone else helps you out."

"What?!"

He snapped, his tone came out harsher than intended. He felt like a trapped and cornered animal. When Ian's words of "no judgement" came through, his shoulders ever so slightly relaxed, his tone softened, but still laced with fear.

".... What do you mean, you find it easier if someone helps you out?"

Alan's mind began racing. Does Ian just think it's a medication, or does he know what exactly it's for? Is he the same? There's no way...

Alan set the syringe down on the counter, needing to process what had just happened. He closed the toilet's lid and sat down, running his hands over his face. After a moment of silence, Alan uncovered his face, resting his hands on his knees, and looked up towards Ian. His throat felt tight and his voice was quiet and strained as he managed to choke out the words.

“W-well I… I’ve had to inject morphine myself and… Yours looks different but i’m sure-…”

[ He stopped, the question took root in his mind. He didn’t know if it was just the sleep deprivation or the way he struggled to read tone, but… He looked at the vial peeking out of the bag, the size of the needle. The way Alan had his boxers hiked up on one leg… Oh. Oh! He chuckled, mostly to himself. His tone now was quiet, soft as if to speak a soft woollen blanket over the frazzled man before him. and his dark brown tired eyes sparkled with… Well with love. ]

“Yes, Alan. By a prime example of chaos, two transsexuals ended up seeing the first sauropod brought back from extinction that day.”

[ Slowly he walked in, manoeuvring his body in order to open the sink cabinet and reach inside. Groping around the sink pipe, reaching behind it, he pulled out a box of gloves from inside. Just in time to prevent his leg from totally buckling on him. His fingers were delicate in pulling out the first latex glove. It was second nature to him at this point. ]

He nodded, then cleared his throat. "Uh, yes... Actually, I alternate sides every week, today's the left side..."

He reached over and finally swapped the syringe needle to the one he uses to inject with, then handed it to Ian. Alan didn't want to refuse his offer, he didn't want to seem rude or impolite, and, well, no one has ever done his shot for him before, except for doctors at the very beginning.

"I'm.... Um.... Wow. I almost can't believe it... I've... I've never met anyone else..."

He was quiet, his voice shy yet full of awe, he felt lighter, as if he'd been carrying a pile of bricks that he finally managed to let go. He didn't realize it, but his eyes had been welling up with tears. Tears of relief.

"I thought people like us were rarities, few and far between, slipping through the cracks, anomalies. I thought that I would never meet another.... That this is something I would have to keep hidden with me 'til the grave. Something I could absolutely never talk about, to anybody..." He reached up and felt a damp spot on his cheek, wiped it away with his sleeve, the turned to Ian and smiled, with true happiness, no sense of unease behind his eyes. He's free to just be Alan now, at least around Ian, not what he wants other people, the public to see, just himself.

"Ian, I wish I had the words... You are truly a wonder. Thank you."

He stood up and hugged the taller man, wrapping his arms around him, nestling his head in his shoulder. He felt so safe, so seen, so accepted. He'd never felt like this before in his life.

"Thank you." His voice cracked, tears flowing. He began to cry, something he hadn't done in years, probably decades, even. The bottle had been opened, the cork popped, and decades of repression, anxiety, fear, began to pour out. He felt Ian rub his back gently as he began to sob, his large hand roaming in circles. After a while, Alan finally managed to stop crying and calmed down, finally breaking away from the embrace, although he wasn't sure if he really wanted it to ever end. He felt as if he had been reborn. He felt refreshed, renewed. He smiled at the other man, his eyes sparkling, then sat back down.

"Alright, you can do my shot. Let's get this over with, shall we?"

“Alan-“

[ Before he could speak, his body was grabbed into a tight, loving embrace. It was his turn to be frozen still. Still in the moment of understanding, embracing what was without any fear, any doubt. As if he hadn’t just washed them, Ian rubbed a hand up and down Alan’s back, nuzzling into his mouse blonde hair. He swayed a little bit, resisting the urge to kiss him. To kiss his ear, kiss his neck, his… He blinked away the tears that fogged his eyes, unable to help himself as he wiped a tear on Alan’s face with his thumb and patted his shoulder. ]

“We may not be well recorded in history, or ah, as much as you may think, but there are many of us. You’re not nearly as alone as you think, Alan… Trust me.”

[ With a gentle smile, he went to replace his gloves. He wasn’t about to take risks now. Ian pulled up a chair behind him, one he often used to rest his leg in the shower. He had quickly grabbed a packet of alcohol wipes he usually had on hand. He could barely recall why he even got them in the first place. Maybe to clean a piercing? Good thing he didn’t throw them out. ]

“I should introduce you to some of my friends in the city. Don’t worry, they’re-, they’re very accepting. Unlike some people here…”

[ The alcohol wipe slid across Alan’s skin, moving slowly, almost sensually in circles as Ian failed to notice his other hand. It a firm grip on Alan’s inner thigh, keeping there as he continued. He grabbed the needle’s shaft between his thumb and forefinger, deftly slipping it across to his middle and his thumb light on the plunger. Typically when he did a shot for someone else, he had to soothe them quite a bit before going in. His instincts told his hand to move, rubbing and massaging in soothing motions Where Alan’s thigh was the most sensitive. ]

“Relax those muscles for me… Ready? One, two…”

[ He hissed in sympathy as Alan’s leg twitched, the needle plunging in deeper and deeper. He could feel the resistance, squeezing his thigh as he pressed the pad of his thumb, slow and steady. Ian focused intently on the process, not even looking up to see Alan’s reaction to the fluid being drained into him. ]

“Oooh, there we go… Relax… Breathe slow…”

[ There was silence, all but a small grunt once Ian pulled out the needle. A plaster was quickly pressed onto the puncture before it had time to bleed. He rubbed his thumb along it, both hands now on Alan’s upper thigh. Ian never really got a decent look at it until now. It was covered in dark blonde hairs, cascading down the side of his legs. Small scars and scuffs littered the surface, toned and thick after crouching in the desert all day. A bead of sweat ran down Ian’s forehead. ]

He took in a sharp breath at the touch of the cold alcohol wipe. Alan stared directly at Ian's chiseled hands on his thigh, his face bright red like a tomato, cheeks burning hot. He hadn't been touched by someone else so intimately in... He doesn't even want to think how long. He took in slow, deep breaths, closing his eyes, trying to stay relaxed, following Ian's voice.

He'd never felt like this for another man before. He wasn't sure what to even think about himself right now. His mind raced. Is something like this even allowed? Of course, people can fall in love with whoever regardless of gender, it's not really something one can control, right? He'd never felt feelings like this for anyone except for Ellie, though. How could he suddenly be into men? Well, this is Ian Malcolm we're talking about...

He continued to take in deep breaths despite his jumbled thoughts. Then, before he knew it, it was over, and he felt Ian pressing a bandage against his skin. He opened his eyes once he heard his voice and noticed Ian's expression. Clearly, he feels the same...

His heart pounded. But he felt a magnetic pull within him, pulling him closer to the other man.

"Um, well, thank you, I suppose, I'm, uh, just used to it, I guess..." He muttered, breathless. There was a silent pause. And then he had to do it.

Why should I tell you anything? Of course I'm going to worry about who you are if you tell me not to...

Who are you?

I can't say much about InGen. I'm sure you get the idea. All I can say is my personal experience with the company wasn't the greatest and I do not endorse them.

It's a company focused on genetics and bio-engineering. Tried to make dinosaurs and profit off of them, but they're just genetic hybrids, mashups of a bunch of different organisms made to vaguely resemble the popular mainstream idea of dinosaurs. That's it. Very little actual prehistoric DNA is used, because it's so fragmentary even in the most ideal conditions. Their biggest fluke, prioritizing amphibian and reptile, even mammalian DNA to fill in the gaps over avian. That's where all the problems began, and did they learn? No. They just kept getting bigger and bigger ideas...

Currently treating someone who I have reasonable suspicion is a victim of InGen. Or by proxy is one—given they made the ‘dinosaurs.’

Pathetic of them to think they can play around with nature like that. Especially for the sake of money. Definitely not people deserving of the intelligence they were born with.

[ Ian's fingers slowly lifted from the keys, trailing off his last notes as the room fell into silence. He turned to see Alan, fully immersed with a calmness much unlike what he had seen on the car ride back. His head tilted, awaiting the review from his singular audience member. From the way he opened his eyes, the smile on his face almost in disbelief, he knew it was going to be a good one. ]

"Oh, it-it was nothing, just a practice, really... I got taught to play since I was a child. It never caught on well until I began to learn to play Jazz, anything else I kind of... Nod off..."

[ Ian yawned, politely covering his mouth and even going so far as to excuse himself. One of the many things his parents had ingrained to him. With careful hands, he closed the piano lid, confident enough in his sleepless body to handle standing up and grabbing a plate of food at the same time. His leg however, had other plans. Malcolm's body twisted, the offending leg joint refusing to prop him up and he let out a loud 'Oh!' as he collided with Grant. A strong arm wrapped around his back, the plate miraculously not falling or dropping any food at all. There was a moment of silence as he looked down to see the other wide eyed, strands of hair falling on his face. He had never been this close to Alan before... That he can recall... ] [ Was he always this... Handsome? ]

"Ahah, ohh i'm fine, i'm fine..."

[ He said, giving Alan a reassuring chuckle while situating himself on the bed. His long body sprawled across the double mattress, long and gangly like a six-foot spider. Though his eyes were nothing short of disarming. Exhausted and hazy, but disarming. He picked at his food, not in any position to deny it feeling his stomach growl and churn. The pancakes came first, fluffy and soft with syrup well seeped into them. He couldn't help but let out a little groan of satisfaction. ]

"Mm, oh delicious. Your-your pancakes have already gotten my approval."

The dining area definitely seemed to be a bit too much for his leg right now, so he helped Ian onto the guest room's bed, making sure he was comfortable. He felt his cheeks warm as a response to the sound the other man had made in approval. Clearly, the pancakes are a hit! He smiled, his eyes glancing away, feeling a bit shy all of a sudden.

"Oh, well, thank you Ian, I mean it. I haven't cooked like this in a very long time, so I'm glad to hear I've still got it!"

They continued to finish up breakfast together, Alan listening to Ian rattle off about funny stories from his youth, the two of them laughing together. However, something has been nagging the back of his mind since arriving here. Just how bad were Ian's injuries? What exactly had happened? Alan didn't witness it. He had to turn around, focus on the childrens' safety, everything happened so fast... After they finished eating, before getting up to go clean up their dishes, Alan paused. His voice lowered, as if he was talking about something forbidden.

"Oh, well... I don't blame you for not visiting if- if that helps. In fact, I would have preferred it, I was a total mess. The turnicate and bandage was... Covering a lot of damage, I mean the-, the amount of stitches, pins, they replaced my kneecap for gods sake, look!"

[ Ian reached over to shimmy his left pant leg upwards, the fabric bunching up at his thigh to show the result of his surgery. Deep stitch lines ran up his leg, more than Alan could even imagine. Small bumps indicated where pins had been inserted, just visible under the thick knee brace. He began to caress the side of it, thumb circling the rough surface as he spoke. It was a gesture to himself —or rather his leg— as if it was a separate being in need of comfort. ]

"Of course it’s harder to see with the brace but you um… You get the idea. The work that the doctors did was nothing short of miraculous, but... Ahh I don't know, art of me still wishes they had just cut it off.. Especially when it gets numb- ooowww ow ow..."

[ His whole body shivered at the sensation of sharp, pulsing pain all too familiar to him. His leg muscles spasmed for a few seconds, the thumping of his heart could be felt all the way from his ears down in his feet. ]

"Aaagh, it did not like that trip... Owwww........"

[ In an attempt to mitigate the pain, he gripped the muscles just above his brace, hissing and swearing under his breath. Even so, the vulnerability of being in pain in front of Grant chewed at him. He didn’t want pity, or to seem incapable, weak, useless… Ian shook those words out of his mind, giving Alan a firm yet comforting rub on his arm ]

“Ohh no no Alan, don’t worry it just- Mgh, it-it’ll go away…”

"You know," he began. "I've broken a leg once before. Right one." His hand went down lower, from Ian's thigh to his calf, calming the cramping muscle. "Long time ago. It wasn't very long after I earned my doctorate, actually... Must've been... Around 27, I think? I was eager to go out and do things on my own. I was out in Montana, the middle of nowhere in the badlands, I ended up driving a bit too far from the site, looking for things in the rocks others may have missed, when a cliff gave way and I fell into a ravine, inside the truck, too. I have no idea how far the drop truly was but it felt like a hundred feet. And of course, I was younger and full of myself and I wasn't prepared for any kind of emergency situation. My leg was in agony, it was all so sudden, I didn't realize what happened at first. The force of the fall broke my fibula. I had no choice but to survive. I didn't have any water or rope or anything on me. I had to climb out of that ravine, alone, and it took me four days to find the camp. I.... I, er, well, I certainly learned my lesson."

[ Ian looked down to see Alan had already taken to aiding him, massaging his leg. At first his brows pressed together in worry, jaw tight at his touch. Quickly he realised, like he has many times before, that Alan’s generosity had little bounds. It became more and more endearing as he did it, each time giving Ian a deep warmth he intended to hold onto for as long as he could. ]

“Four days? No water? Oh Alan, you poor thing… Geez, that’ll… That’ll knock some perspective into anyone. I’m sure that’s- Aaagh… That’s a cautionary tale for any of your students…”

[ He felt a groan rumble in his throat, laying back onto the mattress as Grant worked his leg. His rough, work-worn hands pressed and rubbed at the stiff calf muscles, popping the knots bundled up inside with a deep sigh of relief from Ian. Then his digits moved upwards, firm and deep as they dug into the hills and valleys of his thigh. ]

“Ohhh, Alan… Yes, right there…”

[ Indulgently, Ian arched his back before sinking deep into the bed, his upper body feeling limp and heavy. Even as a few internal bits of his knee popped or pinched, it was quickly overshadowed by the rest of his limb being pressed like dough so thoroughly he begins to feel a sense of relaxation he hasn’t felt in… Well… Years. ]

“Oh my goodness, you-you’re so good with your… Hmm… Your hands… Oh, my stretches? Well, I really should be doing them, or going out more in general.”

[ Ian let out a long, relieved sigh, positioning his hips in a way that tactically hid how… Excited… He got over the whole thing. He didn’t want to seem disrespectful, after all. Especially with the fantasies his mind had just conjured up. He looked up at Alan, his cheeks growing hotter by the second. ]

“Oh yes we did… Though you, what you did was… Monumental.”

"I suppose, but it still doesn't overshadow what you've been through, Ian." His tone was genuine. "Hm, you really should be doing your stretches, you can really mess something up if you don't keep moving..." He fretted again softly, like a mother hen. Alan truly had a natural instinct for caregiving no matter how hard he tried to deny it, to be the stone cold image of traditional masculinity. But this is Ian Malcolm, he thought to himself, he nearly died, he deserves to have someone take care of him for once.

Once Ian's leg stopped spasming and cramping, Alan stood up, lifting his hand away from the leg, almost making Ian want to reach for more of his warm touch. "There we go..." He spoke softly. He began picking up and stacking the used dishes. "I'm going to go clean up, you need your rest. Let me know if you need anything, alright? I'll check back in on you when I'm done."

Alan's mind couldn't help but wander as he began washing the dishes, scrubbing the plates and letting the warm water run over his hands. That Ian Malcolm was truly something else to behold, his long, lean, delicately muscled body, as if he was carved from the finest Greek marble. The sounds of relief he made. All of the little movements he made in response to his hands. He couldn't stop thinking about him...

As he set down the final cup to dry, he suddenly remembered. Oh shit. It's shot day. He normally does it first thing in the morning, but staying in an unfamiliar place must've made it slip his mind. He quietly headed back to the guest room. Good. He breathed out in relief. Ian is asleep. He looks so peaceful, as if he hadn't had a good decent deep sleep in weeks. His mouth just ever so slightly hanging open, his plump lips parting with each breath. His heavy eyelids closed, his long eyelashes making him look ethereal. Alan couldn't help but pause and watch him for a moment.

God, he's stunning. Wait, what are you thinking?

He shook the thought away as he silently grabbed a small satchel at the side of the bed and headed into the bathroom as quietly as possible, he moved silently and quickly, as if he was being hunted. He shut the door with a quiet click and quickly began to get to work. He took out the tiny vial labelled testosterone and took out a syringe and began to suck up the clear liquid. This part of his routine was something he always kept hidden, intimate to himself, he wouldn't even allow Ellie to see him like this. Of course, she knew about his, well, condition, she was the only person in his life who knew... But he still kept it apart from her, not wanting her to make any deal out of it, he just wanted to get it over with every week and act as if nothing was different about him.

And what would Ian Malcolm think, if he found out? Alan didn't even want to bear the thought, his jaw clenched and throat tightened as the anxiety rose in his stomach.

He put the vial back in its tiny box, and put the lid back on the needle to swap to the one he uses to inject himself, when suddenly he heard a few steps and the door handle began to turn. His blue eyes turned icy, wide in fear, every muscle in his body tight as he froze.

[ Ian's eyes watered as he yawned and a deep grunt sounded in his throat. He blinked away the haze of his nap, which was much shorter than he had liked if the sun still being out was any indication. His dream was nothing short of indulgent, it made his face burn up just thinking about it. Nature called to him after his second jaw-aching yawn, so he gave up on the hope of having a longer sleep and made his way to the bathroom. In his sleep-fogged mind, he had forgotten to knock, the sight of Alan behind the door startling him enough to wake him up. ]

"Oh! Alan sorry I- I should have knocked... Ah, do you need help with that?"

[ It was instinctual, him offering to assist Alan in the injection of... Whatever it was. He could assume, he could ask or pry for information, but that —Ian thought— felt much too inappropriate. Truly it didn't matter if there was heroin in that damn vial, he would help Alan no matter what. It was that, or... Hormone injections? Wow, what are the odds... Actually, he was too tired to think about the odds as much as it fascinated him. ]

"No judgement of course. I just find it um... Easier if someone else helps you out."

"What?!"

He snapped, his tone came out harsher than intended. He felt like a trapped and cornered animal. When Ian's words of "no judgement" came through, his shoulders ever so slightly relaxed, his tone softened, but still laced with fear.

".... What do you mean, you find it easier if someone helps you out?"

Alan's mind began racing. Does Ian just think it's a medication, or does he know what exactly it's for? Is he the same? There's no way...

Alan set the syringe down on the counter, needing to process what had just happened. He closed the toilet's lid and sat down, running his hands over his face. After a moment of silence, Alan uncovered his face, resting his hands on his knees, and looked up towards Ian. His throat felt tight and his voice was quiet and strained as he managed to choke out the words.

“W-well I… I’ve had to inject morphine myself and… Yours looks different but i’m sure-…”

[ He stopped, the question took root in his mind. He didn’t know if it was just the sleep deprivation or the way he struggled to read tone, but… He looked at the vial peeking out of the bag, the size of the needle. The way Alan had his boxers hiked up on one leg… Oh. Oh! He chuckled, mostly to himself. His tone now was quiet, soft as if to speak a soft woollen blanket over the frazzled man before him. and his dark brown tired eyes sparkled with… Well with love. ]

“Yes, Alan. By a prime example of chaos, two transsexuals ended up seeing the first sauropod brought back from extinction that day.”

[ Slowly he walked in, manoeuvring his body in order to open the sink cabinet and reach inside. Groping around the sink pipe, reaching behind it, he pulled out a box of gloves from inside. Just in time to prevent his leg from totally buckling on him. His fingers were delicate in pulling out the first latex glove. It was second nature to him at this point. ]

He nodded, then cleared his throat. "Uh, yes... Actually, I alternate sides every week, today's the left side..."

He reached over and finally swapped the syringe needle to the one he uses to inject with, then handed it to Ian. Alan didn't want to refuse his offer, he didn't want to seem rude or impolite, and, well, no one has ever done his shot for him before, except for doctors at the very beginning.

"I'm.... Um.... Wow. I almost can't believe it... I've... I've never met anyone else..."

He was quiet, his voice shy yet full of awe, he felt lighter, as if he'd been carrying a pile of bricks that he finally managed to let go. He didn't realize it, but his eyes had been welling up with tears. Tears of relief.

"I thought people like us were rarities, few and far between, slipping through the cracks, anomalies. I thought that I would never meet another.... That this is something I would have to keep hidden with me 'til the grave. Something I could absolutely never talk about, to anybody..." He reached up and felt a damp spot on his cheek, wiped it away with his sleeve, the turned to Ian and smiled, with true happiness, no sense of unease behind his eyes. He's free to just be Alan now, at least around Ian, not what he wants other people, the public to see, just himself.

"Ian, I wish I had the words... You are truly a wonder. Thank you."

He stood up and hugged the taller man, wrapping his arms around him, nestling his head in his shoulder. He felt so safe, so seen, so accepted. He'd never felt like this before in his life.

"Thank you." His voice cracked, tears flowing. He began to cry, something he hadn't done in years, probably decades, even. The bottle had been opened, the cork popped, and decades of repression, anxiety, fear, began to pour out. He felt Ian rub his back gently as he began to sob, his large hand roaming in circles. After a while, Alan finally managed to stop crying and calmed down, finally breaking away from the embrace, although he wasn't sure if he really wanted it to ever end. He felt as if he had been reborn. He felt refreshed, renewed. He smiled at the other man, his eyes sparkling, then sat back down.

"Alright, you can do my shot. Let's get this over with, shall we?"

[ Ian's fingers slowly lifted from the keys, trailing off his last notes as the room fell into silence. He turned to see Alan, fully immersed with a calmness much unlike what he had seen on the car ride back. His head tilted, awaiting the review from his singular audience member. From the way he opened his eyes, the smile on his face almost in disbelief, he knew it was going to be a good one. ]

"Oh, it-it was nothing, just a practice, really... I got taught to play since I was a child. It never caught on well until I began to learn to play Jazz, anything else I kind of... Nod off..."

[ Ian yawned, politely covering his mouth and even going so far as to excuse himself. One of the many things his parents had ingrained to him. With careful hands, he closed the piano lid, confident enough in his sleepless body to handle standing up and grabbing a plate of food at the same time. His leg however, had other plans. Malcolm's body twisted, the offending leg joint refusing to prop him up and he let out a loud 'Oh!' as he collided with Grant. A strong arm wrapped around his back, the plate miraculously not falling or dropping any food at all. There was a moment of silence as he looked down to see the other wide eyed, strands of hair falling on his face. He had never been this close to Alan before... That he can recall... ] [ Was he always this... Handsome? ]

"Ahah, ohh i'm fine, i'm fine..."

[ He said, giving Alan a reassuring chuckle while situating himself on the bed. His long body sprawled across the double mattress, long and gangly like a six-foot spider. Though his eyes were nothing short of disarming. Exhausted and hazy, but disarming. He picked at his food, not in any position to deny it feeling his stomach growl and churn. The pancakes came first, fluffy and soft with syrup well seeped into them. He couldn't help but let out a little groan of satisfaction. ]

"Mm, oh delicious. Your-your pancakes have already gotten my approval."

The dining area definitely seemed to be a bit too much for his leg right now, so he helped Ian onto the guest room's bed, making sure he was comfortable. He felt his cheeks warm as a response to the sound the other man had made in approval. Clearly, the pancakes are a hit! He smiled, his eyes glancing away, feeling a bit shy all of a sudden.

"Oh, well, thank you Ian, I mean it. I haven't cooked like this in a very long time, so I'm glad to hear I've still got it!"

They continued to finish up breakfast together, Alan listening to Ian rattle off about funny stories from his youth, the two of them laughing together. However, something has been nagging the back of his mind since arriving here. Just how bad were Ian's injuries? What exactly had happened? Alan didn't witness it. He had to turn around, focus on the childrens' safety, everything happened so fast... After they finished eating, before getting up to go clean up their dishes, Alan paused. His voice lowered, as if he was talking about something forbidden.

"Oh, well... I don't blame you for not visiting if- if that helps. In fact, I would have preferred it, I was a total mess. The turnicate and bandage was... Covering a lot of damage, I mean the-, the amount of stitches, pins, they replaced my kneecap for gods sake, look!"

[ Ian reached over to shimmy his left pant leg upwards, the fabric bunching up at his thigh to show the result of his surgery. Deep stitch lines ran up his leg, more than Alan could even imagine. Small bumps indicated where pins had been inserted, just visible under the thick knee brace. He began to caress the side of it, thumb circling the rough surface as he spoke. It was a gesture to himself —or rather his leg— as if it was a separate being in need of comfort. ]

"Of course it’s harder to see with the brace but you um… You get the idea. The work that the doctors did was nothing short of miraculous, but... Ahh I don't know, art of me still wishes they had just cut it off.. Especially when it gets numb- ooowww ow ow..."

[ His whole body shivered at the sensation of sharp, pulsing pain all too familiar to him. His leg muscles spasmed for a few seconds, the thumping of his heart could be felt all the way from his ears down in his feet. ]

"Aaagh, it did not like that trip... Owwww........"

[ In an attempt to mitigate the pain, he gripped the muscles just above his brace, hissing and swearing under his breath. Even so, the vulnerability of being in pain in front of Grant chewed at him. He didn’t want pity, or to seem incapable, weak, useless… Ian shook those words out of his mind, giving Alan a firm yet comforting rub on his arm ]

“Ohh no no Alan, don’t worry it just- Mgh, it-it’ll go away…”

"You know," he began. "I've broken a leg once before. Right one." His hand went down lower, from Ian's thigh to his calf, calming the cramping muscle. "Long time ago. It wasn't very long after I earned my doctorate, actually... Must've been... Around 27, I think? I was eager to go out and do things on my own. I was out in Montana, the middle of nowhere in the badlands, I ended up driving a bit too far from the site, looking for things in the rocks others may have missed, when a cliff gave way and I fell into a ravine, inside the truck, too. I have no idea how far the drop truly was but it felt like a hundred feet. And of course, I was younger and full of myself and I wasn't prepared for any kind of emergency situation. My leg was in agony, it was all so sudden, I didn't realize what happened at first. The force of the fall broke my fibula. I had no choice but to survive. I didn't have any water or rope or anything on me. I had to climb out of that ravine, alone, and it took me four days to find the camp. I.... I, er, well, I certainly learned my lesson."

[ Ian looked down to see Alan had already taken to aiding him, massaging his leg. At first his brows pressed together in worry, jaw tight at his touch. Quickly he realised, like he has many times before, that Alan’s generosity had little bounds. It became more and more endearing as he did it, each time giving Ian a deep warmth he intended to hold onto for as long as he could. ]

“Four days? No water? Oh Alan, you poor thing… Geez, that’ll… That’ll knock some perspective into anyone. I’m sure that’s- Aaagh… That’s a cautionary tale for any of your students…”

[ He felt a groan rumble in his throat, laying back onto the mattress as Grant worked his leg. His rough, work-worn hands pressed and rubbed at the stiff calf muscles, popping the knots bundled up inside with a deep sigh of relief from Ian. Then his digits moved upwards, firm and deep as they dug into the hills and valleys of his thigh. ]

“Ohhh, Alan… Yes, right there…”

[ Indulgently, Ian arched his back before sinking deep into the bed, his upper body feeling limp and heavy. Even as a few internal bits of his knee popped or pinched, it was quickly overshadowed by the rest of his limb being pressed like dough so thoroughly he begins to feel a sense of relaxation he hasn’t felt in… Well… Years. ]

“Oh my goodness, you-you’re so good with your… Hmm… Your hands… Oh, my stretches? Well, I really should be doing them, or going out more in general.”

[ Ian let out a long, relieved sigh, positioning his hips in a way that tactically hid how… Excited… He got over the whole thing. He didn’t want to seem disrespectful, after all. Especially with the fantasies his mind had just conjured up. He looked up at Alan, his cheeks growing hotter by the second. ]

“Oh yes we did… Though you, what you did was… Monumental.”

"I suppose, but it still doesn't overshadow what you've been through, Ian." His tone was genuine. "Hm, you really should be doing your stretches, you can really mess something up if you don't keep moving..." He fretted again softly, like a mother hen. Alan truly had a natural instinct for caregiving no matter how hard he tried to deny it, to be the stone cold image of traditional masculinity. But this is Ian Malcolm, he thought to himself, he nearly died, he deserves to have someone take care of him for once.

Once Ian's leg stopped spasming and cramping, Alan stood up, lifting his hand away from the leg, almost making Ian want to reach for more of his warm touch. "There we go..." He spoke softly. He began picking up and stacking the used dishes. "I'm going to go clean up, you need your rest. Let me know if you need anything, alright? I'll check back in on you when I'm done."

Alan's mind couldn't help but wander as he began washing the dishes, scrubbing the plates and letting the warm water run over his hands. That Ian Malcolm was truly something else to behold, his long, lean, delicately muscled body, as if he was carved from the finest Greek marble. The sounds of relief he made. All of the little movements he made in response to his hands. He couldn't stop thinking about him...

As he set down the final cup to dry, he suddenly remembered. Oh shit. It's shot day. He normally does it first thing in the morning, but staying in an unfamiliar place must've made it slip his mind. He quietly headed back to the guest room. Good. He breathed out in relief. Ian is asleep. He looks so peaceful, as if he hadn't had a good decent deep sleep in weeks. His mouth just ever so slightly hanging open, his plump lips parting with each breath. His heavy eyelids closed, his long eyelashes making him look ethereal. Alan couldn't help but pause and watch him for a moment.

God, he's stunning. Wait, what are you thinking?

He shook the thought away as he silently grabbed a small satchel at the side of the bed and headed into the bathroom as quietly as possible, he moved silently and quickly, as if he was being hunted. He shut the door with a quiet click and quickly began to get to work. He took out the tiny vial labelled testosterone and took out a syringe and began to suck up the clear liquid. This part of his routine was something he always kept hidden, intimate to himself, he wouldn't even allow Ellie to see him like this. Of course, she knew about his, well, condition, she was the only person in his life who knew... But he still kept it apart from her, not wanting her to make any deal out of it, he just wanted to get it over with every week and act as if nothing was different about him.

And what would Ian Malcolm think, if he found out? Alan didn't even want to bear the thought, his jaw clenched and throat tightened as the anxiety rose in his stomach.

He put the vial back in its tiny box, and put the lid back on the needle to swap to the one he uses to inject himself, when suddenly he heard a few steps and the door handle began to turn. His blue eyes turned icy, wide in fear, every muscle in his body tight as he froze.

[ Ian's eyes watered as he yawned and a deep grunt sounded in his throat. He blinked away the haze of his nap, which was much shorter than he had liked if the sun still being out was any indication. His dream was nothing short of indulgent, it made his face burn up just thinking about it. Nature called to him after his second jaw-aching yawn, so he gave up on the hope of having a longer sleep and made his way to the bathroom. In his sleep-fogged mind, he had forgotten to knock, the sight of Alan behind the door startling him enough to wake him up. ]

"Oh! Alan sorry I- I should have knocked... Ah, do you need help with that?"

[ It was instinctual, him offering to assist Alan in the injection of... Whatever it was. He could assume, he could ask or pry for information, but that —Ian thought— felt much too inappropriate. Truly it didn't matter if there was heroin in that damn vial, he would help Alan no matter what. It was that, or... Hormone injections? Wow, what are the odds... Actually, he was too tired to think about the odds as much as it fascinated him. ]

"No judgement of course. I just find it um... Easier if someone else helps you out."

"What?!"

He snapped, his tone came out harsher than intended. He felt like a trapped and cornered animal. When Ian's words of "no judgement" came through, his shoulders ever so slightly relaxed, his tone softened, but still laced with fear.

".... What do you mean, you find it easier if someone helps you out?"

Alan's mind began racing. Does Ian just think it's a medication, or does he know what exactly it's for? Is he the same? There's no way...

Alan set the syringe down on the counter, needing to process what had just happened. He closed the toilet's lid and sat down, running his hands over his face. After a moment of silence, Alan uncovered his face, resting his hands on his knees, and looked up towards Ian. His throat felt tight and his voice was quiet and strained as he managed to choke out the words.

I've had a hypothesis about their communication skills for a couple of decades now, especially after an, um.... Experience, of my own, back then. But I still don't believe they can be "trained" in the same way as a dog or a horse. Way more intelligent. I'm sure you can agree.

We have much to talk about, Mr. Grady.

- @fossil-frontiersman

Dr. Grant, you’re that Utahraptor guy—aren’t you? It’ll be nice to talk to someone who specializes in raptors for once.

I have to agree, at least somewhat. It’s a fair assessment to say raptors aren’t like any other domesticated animal. Their superior intelligence allows them to learn way beyond them. For their benefit, usually.

I am mostly wondering about their vocal capabilities, their language. How many different calls did they make? Did they make combination calls?

How about....

Mimicry?

I'm also curious of their behavior as juveniles, you interacted with them since the moment they hatched, for proper imprinting, correct? As they grew older, how did you manage to keep their respect in the hierarchy and remain at the top? I believe they were still on the younger side of adulthood so I can't help but wonder if they would've eventually overpowered you once fully grown. From what I've seen of most free-roaming raptors, they are constantly looking for a reason to gain power over each other, always squabbling. From the footage I've seen, yours definitely didn't snap at each other nearly as often, very fascinating...

They were pretty vocal at all the stages of life that I knew them, honestly. Most often their vocalizations were in the pursuit of obtaining food—especially when younger, similar to how baby birds might chirp to signal they were hungry. It wasn’t always for food though. Blue and Charlie tended to vocalize a lot more in general. Many reasons…sometimes in a response to something happening around them or me just being there. There was once that Blue even signaled an injury to me when she was around nine or so months old. Relentless chirping and thudding her tail on metal.

Charlie at one point had learned how to mimic birds overhead pretty well, and she had been starting to make some sounds that were a lot like music that one of the facilities management people kept playing when working.

Delta and Echo were far less vocal, but I’ve always figured that was more a matter of personality than anything. For animals in a hierarchy they were pretty unique on an individual to individual basis.

As far as trying to overcome me, it’s hard to say. I’d like to think they liked me enough to not do that, but given that’s not how packs work, it’s more reasonable to think it was because they knew I was their shot at getting food.

Above me, Blue was always sort of the second hand if that makes any sense. Definitely above all of her sisters, yet she never really enforced that idea too much. There was always occasional fights here and there, but otherwise they were pretty bonded. Almost synchronized…like a pack of wolves or a pride of lions. Not what we see in any of their modern day raptor relatives.

I feel there must be something we are missing in the way they are raised. As we know, the first InGen "velociraptors" were practically blank slates. No adults to learn from and their human caretakers handled just their basic needs. They turned out to be very vicious animals, surviving by the law of "kill or be killed", they didn't know how to raise their own young once they began breeding on their own and often ate the hatchlings.

On Site B, I witnessed something much different. These raptors managed to work things through, cooperate, and they were successfully raising young. Still snappy towards each other but much more coordinated. However, sometimes, at least some individuals were easily distracted by drama with other raptors. I wasn't there for very long, not nearly enough time to truly study their social behaviors. They did seem to have a pack structure similar to wolves, the breeding pair being the highest rank and the most experienced. But what I did witness was definitely noteworthy. Many different calls that all seemed to have different meanings. They seemed to have conversations with one another... One that particularly sticks out to me all these years later, the call for help...

I've had a hypothesis about their communication skills for a couple of decades now, especially after an, um.... Experience, of my own, back then. But I still don't believe they can be "trained" in the same way as a dog or a horse. Way more intelligent. I'm sure you can agree.

We have much to talk about, Mr. Grady.

- @fossil-frontiersman

Dr. Grant, you’re that Utahraptor guy—aren’t you? It’ll be nice to talk to someone who specializes in raptors for once.

I have to agree, at least somewhat. It’s a fair assessment to say raptors aren’t like any other domesticated animal. Their superior intelligence allows them to learn way beyond them. For their benefit, usually.

I am mostly wondering about their vocal capabilities, their language. How many different calls did they make? Did they make combination calls?

How about....

Mimicry?

I'm also curious of their behavior as juveniles, you interacted with them since the moment they hatched, for proper imprinting, correct? As they grew older, how did you manage to keep their respect in the hierarchy and remain at the top? I believe they were still on the younger side of adulthood so I can't help but wonder if they would've eventually overpowered you once fully grown. From what I've seen of most free-roaming raptors, they are constantly looking for a reason to gain power over each other, always squabbling. From the footage I've seen, yours definitely didn't snap at each other nearly as often, very fascinating...

[ Ian's fingers slowly lifted from the keys, trailing off his last notes as the room fell into silence. He turned to see Alan, fully immersed with a calmness much unlike what he had seen on the car ride back. His head tilted, awaiting the review from his singular audience member. From the way he opened his eyes, the smile on his face almost in disbelief, he knew it was going to be a good one. ]

"Oh, it-it was nothing, just a practice, really... I got taught to play since I was a child. It never caught on well until I began to learn to play Jazz, anything else I kind of... Nod off..."

[ Ian yawned, politely covering his mouth and even going so far as to excuse himself. One of the many things his parents had ingrained to him. With careful hands, he closed the piano lid, confident enough in his sleepless body to handle standing up and grabbing a plate of food at the same time. His leg however, had other plans. Malcolm's body twisted, the offending leg joint refusing to prop him up and he let out a loud 'Oh!' as he collided with Grant. A strong arm wrapped around his back, the plate miraculously not falling or dropping any food at all. There was a moment of silence as he looked down to see the other wide eyed, strands of hair falling on his face. He had never been this close to Alan before... That he can recall... ] [ Was he always this... Handsome? ]

"Ahah, ohh i'm fine, i'm fine..."

[ He said, giving Alan a reassuring chuckle while situating himself on the bed. His long body sprawled across the double mattress, long and gangly like a six-foot spider. Though his eyes were nothing short of disarming. Exhausted and hazy, but disarming. He picked at his food, not in any position to deny it feeling his stomach growl and churn. The pancakes came first, fluffy and soft with syrup well seeped into them. He couldn't help but let out a little groan of satisfaction. ]

"Mm, oh delicious. Your-your pancakes have already gotten my approval."

The dining area definitely seemed to be a bit too much for his leg right now, so he helped Ian onto the guest room's bed, making sure he was comfortable. He felt his cheeks warm as a response to the sound the other man had made in approval. Clearly, the pancakes are a hit! He smiled, his eyes glancing away, feeling a bit shy all of a sudden.

"Oh, well, thank you Ian, I mean it. I haven't cooked like this in a very long time, so I'm glad to hear I've still got it!"

They continued to finish up breakfast together, Alan listening to Ian rattle off about funny stories from his youth, the two of them laughing together. However, something has been nagging the back of his mind since arriving here. Just how bad were Ian's injuries? What exactly had happened? Alan didn't witness it. He had to turn around, focus on the childrens' safety, everything happened so fast... After they finished eating, before getting up to go clean up their dishes, Alan paused. His voice lowered, as if he was talking about something forbidden.

"Oh, well... I don't blame you for not visiting if- if that helps. In fact, I would have preferred it, I was a total mess. The turnicate and bandage was... Covering a lot of damage, I mean the-, the amount of stitches, pins, they replaced my kneecap for gods sake, look!"

[ Ian reached over to shimmy his left pant leg upwards, the fabric bunching up at his thigh to show the result of his surgery. Deep stitch lines ran up his leg, more than Alan could even imagine. Small bumps indicated where pins had been inserted, just visible under the thick knee brace. He began to caress the side of it, thumb circling the rough surface as he spoke. It was a gesture to himself —or rather his leg— as if it was a separate being in need of comfort. ]

"Of course it’s harder to see with the brace but you um… You get the idea. The work that the doctors did was nothing short of miraculous, but... Ahh I don't know, art of me still wishes they had just cut it off.. Especially when it gets numb- ooowww ow ow..."

[ His whole body shivered at the sensation of sharp, pulsing pain all too familiar to him. His leg muscles spasmed for a few seconds, the thumping of his heart could be felt all the way from his ears down in his feet. ]

"Aaagh, it did not like that trip... Owwww........"

[ In an attempt to mitigate the pain, he gripped the muscles just above his brace, hissing and swearing under his breath. Even so, the vulnerability of being in pain in front of Grant chewed at him. He didn’t want pity, or to seem incapable, weak, useless… Ian shook those words out of his mind, giving Alan a firm yet comforting rub on his arm ]

“Ohh no no Alan, don’t worry it just- Mgh, it-it’ll go away…”

"You know," he began. "I've broken a leg once before. Right one." His hand went down lower, from Ian's thigh to his calf, calming the cramping muscle. "Long time ago. It wasn't very long after I earned my doctorate, actually... Must've been... Around 27, I think? I was eager to go out and do things on my own. I was out in Montana, the middle of nowhere in the badlands, I ended up driving a bit too far from the site, looking for things in the rocks others may have missed, when a cliff gave way and I fell into a ravine, inside the truck, too. I have no idea how far the drop truly was but it felt like a hundred feet. And of course, I was younger and full of myself and I wasn't prepared for any kind of emergency situation. My leg was in agony, it was all so sudden, I didn't realize what happened at first. The force of the fall broke my fibula. I had no choice but to survive. I didn't have any water or rope or anything on me. I had to climb out of that ravine, alone, and it took me four days to find the camp. I.... I, er, well, I certainly learned my lesson."

[ Ian looked down to see Alan had already taken to aiding him, massaging his leg. At first his brows pressed together in worry, jaw tight at his touch. Quickly he realised, like he has many times before, that Alan’s generosity had little bounds. It became more and more endearing as he did it, each time giving Ian a deep warmth he intended to hold onto for as long as he could. ]

“Four days? No water? Oh Alan, you poor thing… Geez, that’ll… That’ll knock some perspective into anyone. I’m sure that’s- Aaagh… That’s a cautionary tale for any of your students…”

[ He felt a groan rumble in his throat, laying back onto the mattress as Grant worked his leg. His rough, work-worn hands pressed and rubbed at the stiff calf muscles, popping the knots bundled up inside with a deep sigh of relief from Ian. Then his digits moved upwards, firm and deep as they dug into the hills and valleys of his thigh. ]

“Ohhh, Alan… Yes, right there…”

[ Indulgently, Ian arched his back before sinking deep into the bed, his upper body feeling limp and heavy. Even as a few internal bits of his knee popped or pinched, it was quickly overshadowed by the rest of his limb being pressed like dough so thoroughly he begins to feel a sense of relaxation he hasn’t felt in… Well… Years. ]

“Oh my goodness, you-you’re so good with your… Hmm… Your hands… Oh, my stretches? Well, I really should be doing them, or going out more in general.”

[ Ian let out a long, relieved sigh, positioning his hips in a way that tactically hid how… Excited… He got over the whole thing. He didn’t want to seem disrespectful, after all. Especially with the fantasies his mind had just conjured up. He looked up at Alan, his cheeks growing hotter by the second. ]

“Oh yes we did… Though you, what you did was… Monumental.”

"I suppose, but it still doesn't overshadow what you've been through, Ian." His tone was genuine. "Hm, you really should be doing your stretches, you can really mess something up if you don't keep moving..." He fretted again softly, like a mother hen. Alan truly had a natural instinct for caregiving no matter how hard he tried to deny it, to be the stone cold image of traditional masculinity. But this is Ian Malcolm, he thought to himself, he nearly died, he deserves to have someone take care of him for once.

Once Ian's leg stopped spasming and cramping, Alan stood up, lifting his hand away from the leg, almost making Ian want to reach for more of his warm touch. "There we go..." He spoke softly. He began picking up and stacking the used dishes. "I'm going to go clean up, you need your rest. Let me know if you need anything, alright? I'll check back in on you when I'm done."

Alan's mind couldn't help but wander as he began washing the dishes, scrubbing the plates and letting the warm water run over his hands. That Ian Malcolm was truly something else to behold, his long, lean, delicately muscled body, as if he was carved from the finest Greek marble. The sounds of relief he made. All of the little movements he made in response to his hands. He couldn't stop thinking about him...

As he set down the final cup to dry, he suddenly remembered. Oh shit. It's shot day. He normally does it first thing in the morning, but staying in an unfamiliar place must've made it slip his mind. He quietly headed back to the guest room. Good. He breathed out in relief. Ian is asleep. He looks so peaceful, as if he hadn't had a good decent deep sleep in weeks. His mouth just ever so slightly hanging open, his plump lips parting with each breath. His heavy eyelids closed, his long eyelashes making him look ethereal. Alan couldn't help but pause and watch him for a moment.

God, he's stunning. Wait, what are you thinking?

He shook the thought away as he silently grabbed a small satchel at the side of the bed and headed into the bathroom as quietly as possible, he moved silently and quickly, as if he was being hunted. He shut the door with a quiet click and quickly began to get to work. He took out the tiny vial labelled testosterone and took out a syringe and began to suck up the clear liquid. This part of his routine was something he always kept hidden, intimate to himself, he wouldn't even allow Ellie to see him like this. Of course, she knew about his, well, condition, she was the only person in his life who knew... But he still kept it apart from her, not wanting her to make any deal out of it, he just wanted to get it over with every week and act as if nothing was different about him.

And what would Ian Malcolm think, if he found out? Alan didn't even want to bear the thought, his jaw clenched and throat tightened as the anxiety rose in his stomach.

He put the vial back in its tiny box, and put the lid back on the needle to swap to the one he uses to inject himself, when suddenly he heard a few steps and the door handle began to turn. His blue eyes turned icy, wide in fear, every muscle in his body tight as he froze.

DROMEOSAURDAE

Known as the ´raptors´, these theropods are famous for ther sickle claws. They used to live in the northem hemsphere during the late Cretaceous. This art s now available for prnts and more HERE. Also a the HERE is the video I orginaly dedicated to them

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[ Ian's fingers slowly lifted from the keys, trailing off his last notes as the room fell into silence. He turned to see Alan, fully immersed with a calmness much unlike what he had seen on the car ride back. His head tilted, awaiting the review from his singular audience member. From the way he opened his eyes, the smile on his face almost in disbelief, he knew it was going to be a good one. ]

"Oh, it-it was nothing, just a practice, really... I got taught to play since I was a child. It never caught on well until I began to learn to play Jazz, anything else I kind of... Nod off..."

[ Ian yawned, politely covering his mouth and even going so far as to excuse himself. One of the many things his parents had ingrained to him. With careful hands, he closed the piano lid, confident enough in his sleepless body to handle standing up and grabbing a plate of food at the same time. His leg however, had other plans. Malcolm's body twisted, the offending leg joint refusing to prop him up and he let out a loud 'Oh!' as he collided with Grant. A strong arm wrapped around his back, the plate miraculously not falling or dropping any food at all. There was a moment of silence as he looked down to see the other wide eyed, strands of hair falling on his face. He had never been this close to Alan before... That he can recall... ] [ Was he always this... Handsome? ]

"Ahah, ohh i'm fine, i'm fine..."

[ He said, giving Alan a reassuring chuckle while situating himself on the bed. His long body sprawled across the double mattress, long and gangly like a six-foot spider. Though his eyes were nothing short of disarming. Exhausted and hazy, but disarming. He picked at his food, not in any position to deny it feeling his stomach growl and churn. The pancakes came first, fluffy and soft with syrup well seeped into them. He couldn't help but let out a little groan of satisfaction. ]

"Mm, oh delicious. Your-your pancakes have already gotten my approval."

The dining area definitely seemed to be a bit too much for his leg right now, so he helped Ian onto the guest room's bed, making sure he was comfortable. He felt his cheeks warm as a response to the sound the other man had made in approval. Clearly, the pancakes are a hit! He smiled, his eyes glancing away, feeling a bit shy all of a sudden.

"Oh, well, thank you Ian, I mean it. I haven't cooked like this in a very long time, so I'm glad to hear I've still got it!"

They continued to finish up breakfast together, Alan listening to Ian rattle off about funny stories from his youth, the two of them laughing together. However, something has been nagging the back of his mind since arriving here. Just how bad were Ian's injuries? What exactly had happened? Alan didn't witness it. He had to turn around, focus on the childrens' safety, everything happened so fast... After they finished eating, before getting up to go clean up their dishes, Alan paused. His voice lowered, as if he was talking about something forbidden.

"Oh, well... I don't blame you for not visiting if- if that helps. In fact, I would have preferred it, I was a total mess. The turnicate and bandage was... Covering a lot of damage, I mean the-, the amount of stitches, pins, they replaced my kneecap for gods sake, look!"

[ Ian reached over to shimmy his left pant leg upwards, the fabric bunching up at his thigh to show the result of his surgery. Deep stitch lines ran up his leg, more than Alan could even imagine. Small bumps indicated where pins had been inserted, just visible under the thick knee brace. He began to caress the side of it, thumb circling the rough surface as he spoke. It was a gesture to himself —or rather his leg— as if it was a separate being in need of comfort. ]

"Of course it’s harder to see with the brace but you um… You get the idea. The work that the doctors did was nothing short of miraculous, but... Ahh I don't know, art of me still wishes they had just cut it off.. Especially when it gets numb- ooowww ow ow..."

[ His whole body shivered at the sensation of sharp, pulsing pain all too familiar to him. His leg muscles spasmed for a few seconds, the thumping of his heart could be felt all the way from his ears down in his feet. ]

"Aaagh, it did not like that trip... Owwww........"

[ In an attempt to mitigate the pain, he gripped the muscles just above his brace, hissing and swearing under his breath. Even so, the vulnerability of being in pain in front of Grant chewed at him. He didn’t want pity, or to seem incapable, weak, useless… Ian shook those words out of his mind, giving Alan a firm yet comforting rub on his arm ]

“Ohh no no Alan, don’t worry it just- Mgh, it-it’ll go away…”

"You know," he began. "I've broken a leg once before. Right one." His hand went down lower, from Ian's thigh to his calf, calming the cramping muscle. "Long time ago. It wasn't very long after I earned my doctorate, actually... Must've been... Around 27, I think? I was eager to go out and do things on my own. I was out in Montana, the middle of nowhere in the badlands, I ended up driving a bit too far from the site, looking for things in the rocks others may have missed, when a cliff gave way and I fell into a ravine, inside the truck, too. I have no idea how far the drop truly was but it felt like a hundred feet. And of course, I was younger and full of myself and I wasn't prepared for any kind of emergency situation. My leg was in agony, it was all so sudden, I didn't realize what happened at first. The force of the fall broke my fibula. I had no choice but to survive. I didn't have any water or rope or anything on me. I had to climb out of that ravine, alone, and it took me four days to find the camp. I.... I, er, well, I certainly learned my lesson."

[ Ian's fingers slowly lifted from the keys, trailing off his last notes as the room fell into silence. He turned to see Alan, fully immersed with a calmness much unlike what he had seen on the car ride back. His head tilted, awaiting the review from his singular audience member. From the way he opened his eyes, the smile on his face almost in disbelief, he knew it was going to be a good one. ]

"Oh, it-it was nothing, just a practice, really... I got taught to play since I was a child. It never caught on well until I began to learn to play Jazz, anything else I kind of... Nod off..."

[ Ian yawned, politely covering his mouth and even going so far as to excuse himself. One of the many things his parents had ingrained to him. With careful hands, he closed the piano lid, confident enough in his sleepless body to handle standing up and grabbing a plate of food at the same time. His leg however, had other plans. Malcolm's body twisted, the offending leg joint refusing to prop him up and he let out a loud 'Oh!' as he collided with Grant. A strong arm wrapped around his back, the plate miraculously not falling or dropping any food at all. There was a moment of silence as he looked down to see the other wide eyed, strands of hair falling on his face. He had never been this close to Alan before... That he can recall... ] [ Was he always this... Handsome? ]

"Ahah, ohh i'm fine, i'm fine..."

[ He said, giving Alan a reassuring chuckle while situating himself on the bed. His long body sprawled across the double mattress, long and gangly like a six-foot spider. Though his eyes were nothing short of disarming. Exhausted and hazy, but disarming. He picked at his food, not in any position to deny it feeling his stomach growl and churn. The pancakes came first, fluffy and soft with syrup well seeped into them. He couldn't help but let out a little groan of satisfaction. ]

"Mm, oh delicious. Your-your pancakes have already gotten my approval."

The dining area definitely seemed to be a bit too much for his leg right now, so he helped Ian onto the guest room's bed, making sure he was comfortable. He felt his cheeks warm as a response to the sound the other man had made in approval. Clearly, the pancakes are a hit! He smiled, his eyes glancing away, feeling a bit shy all of a sudden.

"Oh, well, thank you Ian, I mean it. I haven't cooked like this in a very long time, so I'm glad to hear I've still got it!"

They continued to finish up breakfast together, Alan listening to Ian rattle off about funny stories from his youth, the two of them laughing together. However, something has been nagging the back of his mind since arriving here. Just how bad were Ian's injuries? What exactly had happened? Alan didn't witness it. He had to turn around, focus on the childrens' safety, everything happened so fast... After they finished eating, before getting up to go clean up their dishes, Alan paused. His voice lowered, as if he was talking about something forbidden.

Morning, Ian. Oh, looks like somebody's not a morning person, are you? Your glasses, really?

Ah, don't worry, it's alright, happens to the best of us. I'll help you look, but first, calm down, you look a bit frazzled, um, did you sleep alright?

I've made some coffee and toast. I always wake up at the very crack of dawn so I thought I'd have something ready for you, it's the least I could do. Thanks for letting me crash here. The trailer should be repaired by next week, hopefully, I don't want to be wearing out my welcome. I've never really, uh, been anybody's roommate before... I'll try my best to keep out of your hair.

The guest room was nice, I slept fine, but does your piano really have to take up that much space?

"Ah, n-no I'm not... In fact, I would have expected to wake up so much later given how late I... Late I stay up."

[ He knew very well that Alan understood his nightmares, more than most people actually. Still, there was a gnawing in the back of his sleep deprived mind telling him not to bother with yet another complaint about the same terrifying nightmare. Ian nervously licked his lips, giving Alan a simple shrug. He placed his cane against the side of the counter.]

"Well you know, same old story nothing new really. You'd think the medication would... Would get rid of those y'know? I mean, what do I buy them for if not that?" Oh... Thank you that's really kind of you... But hey hey, don't worry about staying too long you-, you take the time you need and make yourself at home. Especially if it means I, I get ready made breakfast

[ Ian gave him a subtle smirk, craning his body over the kitchen bench to grab his coffee. It was still steaming hot, warming his hands in the cold, dismal weather. Still, his expression looked distant, occupied. ]

His cheeks felt a little warm and he smiled sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck, before reaching for another sip of coffee.

"I'm not used to having a fully decked out kitchen. I wasn't really sure what you like, and I didn't want to go snooping around in somebody else's kitchen... So if you'd like me to cook something a bit more substantial than coffee and toast, I don't mind. I just might be a bit rusty, it's been a long time. I used to cook a lot, when I was younger, actually, I don't think I was too bad at it, but uh..."

His face fell for a moment, his eyes growing distant in thought, but he quickly shook off whatever he was thinking about and returned to normal.

"Not enough space in the trailer, y'know? And I like my routine. So it just might feel a little unusual for me to start cooking more than simple meals, that's all. It's just been a really long time."

He stood up to go clean up his now empty coffee cup. He paused on the way towards the sink, resting a warm, comforting hand on Ian's shoulder.

"I'm sorry about the, uh, nightmares... You know you can always talk to me about it, Ian. Anytime. Even if I'm asleep, if you can't sleep, or if you keep waking up, I don't want you to think you have to go through it alone. Not while I'm here with you. We've got each other's backs, always, you know that."

He softly patted his back one more time before reaching the sink. He began to rinse the coffee cup, gently scrubbing the inside, and then the handle, making sure it was spotless. He's always had an eye for the tiniest details, something he's always appreciated Ian having in common.

"So, what are you thinking for breakfast? Pancakes? How do you like your eggs? What have you got?"

He opened up the fridge. It wasn't even close to full. Some assorted fruit juices, salad mix, some basic veggies, almost empty container of lunch meat. Not much to work with.

He rested his chin on his knuckle as he went to open the cupboards. Even worse. Some bread, some crackers, practically bare. He was astonished. Alan was raised to always have some food storage, always be prepared for emergencies. He'd never seen such an empty kitchen in his life! He threw his arms in the air in shock.

"Ian! I can't believe this! When was the last time you've even stepped foot in a grocery store? Come on, I'm taking you. I will NOT stand by this, you WILL be getting a full course breakfast! And you have to be stocked up, I thought someone like you out of all people would know how important that is."

His hands now on his hips, lecturing like a disappointed parent. Then after a moment, his face faltered, his voice quiet.

"Oh.... Erm... You haven't been leaving the house as often as, well, before.... Have you? I-i know. I get it... It's, uh, it's difficult sometimes... I'm sorry for nagging you."

“Yeah well, if someone gets it, it’s definitely you. In fact, you’re probably the ah, the only one I can talk to about it at the moment. Even without those NDAs People just… Don’t understand.”

“I wouldn’t want to bother you with my nightmares, really. I’m a big boy and you well, you’ve got your own battles.”

[ Seeing a slit of white light run up his body, he gazed up to see Alan had opened the fridge and began silently watching, waiting for the realisation to hit. All he could do in defence was playfully roll his eyes. Of course he had nothing to eat, getting out of bed was a tough task in itself. ]

“Not everyone was um… So fortunate as you were in surviving Alan. But…”

[ Ian pushed himself up, balancing himself properly with his cane in his right hand ]

“You’re right. It’s about time I stocked up.”

[ Ian took his time getting to Alans truck, endeared by the way he fumbled with his keys and gave the old radio a stern talking to. Malcolm noticed he still owned an older model one that was so wonderfully… Alan. The wind-up windows were of no issue, in fact they gave him a sense of nostalgia. Ian’s long legs nestled between a thick steel water bottle and a box of tools on the car floor as he got himself situated, bringing out a small bottle from his pocket. ]

“Theres ah, a good store if you go straight up the road here. You probably passed it on your way here.”

"Ah, Fleetwood Mac, The Chain. Haven't listened to them in a while... Y'know, Ellie and I went to a concert of theirs once. It was a long time ago, college days. Ellie would always listen to them out on digs on her Walkman. We had quite the cassette collection, once upon a time..."

And now, the digs were silent. Ever since Nublar, ever since the split. Alan's expression grew distant as his fingers tapped along to the beat against his steering wheel. Soon, they pulled into the parking lot.

"Here we are. Hm... Maybe it would've been a better idea if we made a list before we left. Oh well, it's alright, we just might take a while making sure we've got everything we need. Do you have any ideas, what do you want?"

He shut the door firmly as he got out, his side of the truck needing a little more 'oomph' to fully close nowadays since he's been opening and closing the thing for so damn long. The passenger side door was still working fine, however. He walked over to the other side and opened Ian's door, proceeding to shut it behind him. The two men headed inside the grocery store.

"Alright, first things first. Pancakes. I have no idea when that bag of flour I saw in your cupboard last saw the light of day..."

They proceeded to get most of the ingredients for everything they needed without issue, until they got to the eggs. Alan just wanted to get the cheapest carton available. But Ian wanted the more expensive organic cage-free brand. They started to bicker over it. To Alan, eggs are eggs, the companies will keep selling the eggs regardless of whether they boycotted them or not, and they can't get the most expensive brand of everything right now.

Then a stranger, an older man walked over to them. He smelled of tobacco and cheap beer. His eyes were cold as he snickered at the two.

"Yer kind ain't welcome here in this town. Keep that shit out of the public. There's families here."

Alan was confused. He had no idea what the stranger meant. They were just grocery shopping together.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Ya heard me." The stranger sneered and spit at his shoes and Alan flashed him a disgusted glare. "You might think you blend in with your cowboy getup but your boyfriend there definitely stands out. I've been followin' ya around the store. Watching you spreadin' your damn filth. Just look at how you guys act, how you sound. This is your only warning, boys, I won't be as nice next time 'round. Queers aren't allowed here. You'll confuse the kids. This is a Christ lovin' town, ya hear me?"

Alan quickly pieced it together. His heart felt like it was inside of his throat but he stood his ground. A redneck is nothing compared to a Tyrannosaurus, after all.

[ The two of them picked up basic food, a few microwave dinners, toiletries just in case, but the eggs in particular had stopped them in their tracks. For Ian, looking for sustainable and ethical options mattered. Even the smallest changes could make a big impact. ]

“Listen Alan, the-, the condition these chickens are put in is abysmal, we have got to let them know we won’t put up with it. I know it’s cheaper but that’s kind of intentional, you see-“

[ Ian’s improv lecture was cut off by a man he had never seen before. He cocked a brow, straightening his posture like a cat bristling to seem bigger. It wasn’t the first time he’s been hounded in public, hell he’s been hounded for this exact reason. Boyfriend or not, he wasn’t about to give this man the satisfaction of a response, instead giving him an unamused stare. His eyes looked around the room, mind running wild with ideas. Just as Alan began to poke the finger back, Ian placed a firm hand on his shoulder. ]

“Doctor Grant, please…”

“Sir, this man is- sorry… This was my daughters tutor. He was like a godfather to her really… “

[ Ian’s eyes watered as he detailed this false story, his ability to cry on command combined with prior theatre class experience has gotten him out of a few uncomfortable encounters. So much so that he flipped open his wallet, showing a picture of one of his youngest daughters, thankfully well and alive. ]

“He’s here to help me and my wife do daily tasks after the accident. I’m… I’m sorry, it’s just been hard you know? Mom and Dad are… Are watching over her.”

"Oh, oh shit... I'm sorry, sir. Really. I was too quick to judge. I-i don't know what I would do if anything happened to my kids. I truly apologize. W-wait, here..."

The man fumbled in his back pocket and took out his wallet, handing Ian a $10 bill. Alan stood there, stunned in silence. What on Earth just happened here? It was pretty funny watching the guy's reaction, though, he had to admit to himself.

"Listen, man, I'm really sorry for you and your wife. I'm just a uh, a bit paranoid, y'see, I heard about this uhh, gay virus going around, and it's real contagious, I don't want that shit spreadin' here... I just hope this makes up for how I was actin'. I'm sorry. Have a good day. Bless your heart."

The stranger quickly left before Ian had a chance to respond, red with embarrassment. Alan watched as the man walked out of the sliding doors, then his head whipped towards Ian, slack-jawed.

"What the hell? How did you do that? Did you really have to lie to him? He just gave you money! What!? And I'm still so confused... Did he really..."

Alan's voice lowered into a whisper, as if he was too scared to say the words out loud. His tone was anxious, a sense of fear in his voice that Ian hadn't ever heard come from Alan before, even back on Nublar, when they were being actively hunted by dinosaurs.

“Oh, sir I couldn’t- i’ll be okay I… Thank you… God bless you sir…”

[ The moment the stranger turned away, Ian shut off the waterworks like it was nothing, pinching his eyelids as Alan began to stutter in sheer confusion. Not only was the trickery in Ian’s mind completely warranted, but it was the first time he felt emboldened to get back at someone in a while. He gave Alan’s back a firm pat. ]

“Oh come on, he deserved it, did you hear what he said? Horrible. He ah, probably was just paranoid and had a lot of biases and um… You know, when you’re a hammer everything looks like a nail…?”

[ His hand on Alan’s back fell to his side, noting the man’s unease. His brows tented together in understanding of something that Ian himself has had to struggle with, offering a subtle but warm smile of reassurance. He didn’t have to say a word. Instead, he used a free hand to hook his fingers into a cheap sixer of beer, a go-to last resort drink to help turn off his mind. ]

He couldn't help but chuckle and nod at Ian's remark. Alan didn't say much as they went through the checkout. As they were driving back, his brows instinctively furrowed deep in thought, looking as if he was glaring a little, his mind trying to analyze why the stranger accused them of such a thing. He's seen how Ian is with women, there's no way he leans that way, is it because of how he dressed? But a lot of people wear black... Ian does act a bit eccentric, but that's just how he is. Alan's throat felt dry as his thoughts continued to wander and he started wondering if it was something about himself. If it was the way he looked or sounded. Did the stranger somehow sense something was different or off about him? His grip on the steering wheel tightened. He didn't realize how tense he was until Ian's touch snapped him out of his thoughts and he jolted his hand away automatically.

"I'm fine." He mumbled.

It was an awkward silence the rest of the way back, but he was thankful that Ian didn't attempt to pry. He knew that Ian could tell he had a lot on his mind, but was in no mood to talk, and he was glad that Ian respected that. He put the groceries away, insisting Ian to go and rest, he walked a lot while at the store, and began to start cooking a much needed home-style breakfast. Hopefully he remembers that old pancake recipe correctly, the way his grandparents would make them. He brushed away the memories threatening to surface. He already has enough on his plate right now, grandparents are long gone and it's pointless to think about a family who will never speak to you again. At least focusing on cooking helped him calm down from the stressful morning but his thoughts just kept continuing to wander out of his control.

He started making a nice stack of pancakes, the first few were a little burnt so he set those aside for himself. Suddenly, the sound of a piano filled the house. He didn't recognize the song, but it didn't matter. It was beautiful and detailed, probably the most incredible piano performance Alan had ever heard. He felt lighter, tension leaving. The rest of the pancakes turned out perfectly, and he soon went onto the eggs. Soon, the breakfast was complete. Alan didn't want the peaceful ambience of the piano to end, but he knew Ian was just as hungry as he is.

[ Ian propped up his chin on his hand as he stared out the window, occasionally setting his curious, yet cautious gaze upon the driver. The tension in his body was apparent, no doubt because of the encounter they had at the supermarket. In a move to help diffuse the situation, Ian shuffled himself into a more comfortable position, clearing his throat ]

“Well, that was ah, an unexpected turn of events… Though you probably don’t need to hear my explanation of expecting the… The unexpected…”

“Look, Alan there’s nothing wrong with-“

[ The moment his fingers brushed against the back of Alan’s hand, it was pulled away. Not in disgust or offence, but… Fear? Either way, Ian respected this. He was usually a very touchy fellow, personable and casual without even trying, but this didn’t mean he was without knowledge of boundaries. ]

“Ah, i’m sorry…”

[ Ian swallowed, proceeding to shove the strange sense of familiarity for a scenario like this into the back of his mind. Far, far back. Nothing was here to break the tension this time. ]

[ Back at home, Ian’s body could barely take the painful throbbing of his leg or the exhaustion of a sleepless night. He yawned, chucking his cane onto the guest bedroom floor and unceremoniously flopping back onto the mattress with a grunt. It didn’t matter much to him which bed he slept in, he just needed to rest. ]

[ Unfortunately for Ian, not even five minutes passed and his body was already restless to move, to distract itself. He fell into a state of half-asleep rumination, going over every little detail of their trip. Maybe it was something he said? Was Alan mad that he lied? Maybe… Maybe it was… Ian sighed, knowing he shouldn’t make assumptions. Still, his mind wandered, it pulled and shoved and wouldn’t let go until he was upright again. He eventually found himself at his piano, fingers gliding across the keys as his mind began to slow to a crawl. Music was by far his… Healthiest coping mechanism… ]

“Oh, Alan I… Well thank you. I’ve ah, i’ve played at a few of bars before, but nothing too special. It helps to take my mind off of…”

[ He cleared his throat, taking a sip of his tea as he eyes the breakfast beside him ]

“Well, you know… But uhh, you can watch me play if you’d like, i’ve got a few more in my fingertips aching to get out.”

[ With that, he placed his mug to the side, positioning his fingers. He begins with a slow Jazz tune, one you’d hear at a fancy late night club on a Saturday. Ian closed his eyes, feeling the vibration of the music through his feet and began to softly hum to himself. ]

He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there, immersed in the sound, but the absence snapped him out of it. He didn't realize it, but as his eyes were closed, listening to Ian's music, his body tilted forwards a bit, as if his subconscious yearned to be closer to the taller man. He sat up straighter, clearing his throat.