fandom_clinic | FTEC - Wednesday Morning [10/11]

Entry tags:

FTEC - Wednesday Morning [10/11]

After enjoying a nice breakfast with Aziraphale, Wilson had left the angel to grading his tests and headed down to the clinic for the day.

First things first, coffee was put on to brew. A nice Sumatra blend that would warm up the greyish day. After that, Wilson settled himself behind the counter with his laptop and some journals. Nice thing about getting published, you got money. Not so nice thing, people kept expecting you to keep getting published.

So another paper was underway but he would much rather be doctoring.

[ooc: Wilson is here for your bleeding, sniffling or coffee drinking needs!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Aziraphale was not bleeding, sniffling, or drinking coffee, but once the papers were graded -- and he had a good chuckle at some of the creative answers -- he headed over to the clinic. Thermos of tea in one hand, Daily Telegraph crossword in the other.

"No patients then, love?" he asked, pulling up a chair next to the desk. "Which is a good thing, really, but I know it makes life rather dull for you."

Wilson looked up from where he was typing up some of his notes into a more coherent paragraph and he smiled.

"No, no patients yet. That was in class activity yesterday. Your papers graded, Raphale?"

"Miss Lang, you mean? She came by my office on Monday and I gave her some to tea to take home. Apparently tea wasn't enough." He smiled and poured himself a cup from the thermos.

"Quite. I got some interesting responses to the short essays, which I'm very pleased about. Means they're thinking, although it isn't a topic some of them care to ponder very much. But it's important, and moreso if they're going to actually be dealing with prophecies."

"Thinking, is probably a good thing, though it does tend to lead towards emo." Wilson said in a thoughtful tone, thinking about his own Philosophy class.

"Course...nothing personal love but even I'm beginning to hate the word 'prophecy'."

Aziraphale sighed, and leaned his elbows on the desk, cradling his teacup in his hands. "I had no idea so many of the students here -- so many of, everyone here, were so bound up in prophecies. I'm not certain I'd have agreed to teach it if I'd known."

He looked down into his tea, sensing the pensieve mood that had crept up on them both. "At least...things are better with Bel now."

"No!" Wilson said sharply, looking up with a frown. "It's good that you're teaching it. I mean, it's hard. I know, lover but it's important these kids know the facts to be armed as best they can be for whatever their futures hold. Sticking your head in the sand with... basket weaving, is a disservice to what needs to be taught."

Get the feeling Wilson might be a little passionate about this point?

Rubbing his hand across the back of his neck, he smiled. "They, seemed to be at dinner last night. You two get a chance to talk?"

Aziraphale looked up in surprise. Setting down the teacup, he stood and moved to the back of Wilson's chair, resting his hands on the man's shoulders and then gently rubbing his neck.

"No, you're right, love. And I agree with you. It's hard for them, but if they don't face these questions now...it'll be so much more difficult later." He dropped a kiss to the top of Wilson's head. "Basket weaving would be disastrous. I don't know the first thing about it."

A smile came across his face at the question about Bel. "We had a very nice chat. He's struggling, James, although I think you know that, and I'm worried. But I'm also not certain the entire situation isn't being made worse because, well, he's what? Seventeen? Eighteen?"

Mmmm back rub, Wilson might have considered purring.

"Well, yes...anytime you add teenage hormones into the mix, it'll make things even more...volatile." He said softly.

Dark eyes stared at a point on the desk, thinking about Bel and becoming more and more frustrated as there seemed to be no way to fix or address the problem. It was a struggle beyond any easy sort of answer.

"I talked with Phoebe, while you guys were out grilling. I told her I was proud of her and Bel for having worked together to stay together all this time. She said, they make each other stronger. I just hope...it seems so much for a young couple to have to go through, you know?"

"They aren't your typical young couple," he pointed out needlessly. Aziraphale stroked his fingers through the young doctor's hair, then resumed the massage. "And they have friends who love them. Every couple has obstacles they have to face. Belthazor and Phoebe have greater obstacles, perhaps, but they're also better equipped to overcome them than most."

He stopped what he was doing and slipped his arms around Wilson's shoulders. "I know exactly what Phoebe meant. You make me stronger."

Reaching up to grip his lover's arms, Wilson leaned his head against Phale's shoulder.

"Do I?" He asked softly. "Sometimes...I worry."

"Good heavens, James," the angel murmured. "How can you think otherwise? I'm the one who's brought nothing but trouble and danger into your life."

He kissed the man's injured shoulder. "I promise you, love. There isn't anything in the world I wouldn't do for you. You're the most wonderful gift HIMSELF has ever given me."

Reaching back to touch Phale's face with his fingers, Wilson found himself giving voice to little whispers of doubt and concern that tended to sneak up upon him unawares, in the dark of night.

"But I am a weakness. The otherside knows that, count on it when they attack me. They do it to draw you out, want to get hold of me to weaken you further. And when I am injured and I know it frets you so horribly..."

Exhaling softly, Wilson ran a hand across his face.

"I don't know love...maybe...maybe I should explore ways I could, be better at defending myself, so there's less chance..."

Frowning, the angel moved around to lean against the desk and face Wilson.

"You are not a weakness. If they didn't go after you, it would be someone else."

He put his hand to the young doctor's jaw and tilted the man's face up toward him. "What would you tell Phoebe, if she came to you said the very thing that you've just said to me? 'I'm a weakness, the demons will come after me to harm Cole, when I'm in danger it worries him.' What would you tell her?"

Wilson leaned forward with his arms laying across his thighs, staring down at the floor.

"Probably tell her that Cole needs her to be who she is but, Raphale...even Phoebe can defend herself through her witchcraft better than I can."

Sitting back, Wilson gave the window a dark look.

"I couldn't help Blair and what's worse, I dragged Bel into this. I'm supposed to protect them, Aziraphale and instead..." He made a futile gesture towards the door.

"That's why I'm afraid to go back to the mainland. Not for myself but... what happens if they attack me again? Who's going to get hurt this time."

"You're work is as a doctor. We're not all made for the same thing, love. My job is to protect. Yours is to heal. And perhaps they will attack you again. Or perhaps they'll wait until I'm forced to leave the island for some reason, and bring other innocents into it. Or even find a way, as with what happened to Kiki, to get onto the island and wreak havoc here. The only difference between now, and what could have happened to you or anyone else...a year ago, before either of us came to Fandom at all, is that now you know what to look for."

Aziraphale took both of Wilson's hands in his. "James love...do you think this is the first time anything like this has ever happened? We've been fighting this war in one way or another for thousands of years. Mostly it's done through wiles and thwarting and subterfuge. But is creating little ways to make people miserable and act hatefully any better than what happened to you and Blair? My regret is that mortals have to be caught in the middle of this...contest. I know it's part of HIS Plan, but it doesn't make it any easier to swallow."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

FTEC - Wednesday Morning [10/11]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject