Disclaimer: I do not now nor have I ever owned the characters from Queer as Folk they belong to their respective owners Russell T. Davies, Ron Cowen and Daniel Lipman, Showtime.

Title: Keeping Quiet
Summary: He grumble's on the drive home...

A/N: This is what happens when you consume way too much coca cola, and let the finger's take over the keyboard with out even thinking about what it is that you're typing. I think the rating is due mainly to language.



He grumble's on the drive home about doctor's not knowing shit about handling people. Makes a big deal about how they're the one's who should be behind bar's for all the pain they cause their patients.

"Just a sting my ass." he mutter's about the much needed pain medication that had been injected into his... let's not go there again, if you're really honest with yourself not thinking about it is the best course of action. Cause you know if you even think the word you're gonna bust out laughing. You really don't wanna be thrown out of a moving vehicle now do you? No. So you try to think of mundane things while he continues to curse out the people at the hospital, threatening to sue even.


"Did you just giggle?"

Fuck no.

You shake your head and keep staring out the window at the passing scenery. Don't' look at him and it won't happen again. He's already irritated enough as it is. It took you awhile to explain to him that driving one handed was not a good idea. It took two kisses, a few explicit words, and four failed key snatching attempts for him to tell you to that under no circumstances did anyone drive his babies. You smile at that cause really it was just too easy. Unfortunately that smile didn't get you behind the driver's seat. It got you into the passenger seat watching as he struggled to yank his seat belt into place.

Did you ever see a right-handed person try to be left-handed? You know better than to laugh at his sad attempt to strap himself in. You wait until he stops yelling at the stupid belt, wait for the huffing and puffing to stop... slowly reach over, make no eye contact, and pull the strap down across his chest, the click of the buckle signal's the job is done. Gently kiss his cheek and settle back in your seat. Attempting any words at this point would be suicidal.

So here you are as he is driving you home.


You've heard him bitch before but this is the worse. You can't really blame him because six months ago you were sitting in his place. Only you weren't forced to wear a bright ass 'sunshine' yellow casing on your arm because it was broken in three places. How that happened you still don't know and you don't dare ask at this point.

It's entirely Emmett and Ted's fault really. They thought it would be the world's greatest idea to choose the coloring of the cast. Yah know since he had still been knocked out. It didn't get you off the hook though, didn't matter that you had been at the diner getting lunch while this happened.

At home you stand and watch as he limps into the bedroom and struggle's to get out of his jacket. It's a good fifteen-minute's of him vs. the big bad jacket. He finally concedes the jacket has won when he turns to you with this look on his face. The old 'don't-say-a-word-but-help-me-anyway-' look. You know it so freakin' well.

So you help.

It's off.

He carefully sits on the bed.

You bite your lip not wanting to do something that will land you on the sofa tonight. He works the one button he managed to do up in the hospital room and slides the left side off, leaving the right side on. It's ridicules really. So you make your way to the bed sitting on his left side. The uninjured side and drape your arm around his shoulders. Carefully maneuvering his right arm you slide the shirt the rest of the way off. Kissing his bruised shoulder.

Later after he proved to you how much fun being one handed could be the two of you lay quietly sated, for now. That's when he look's down at the stupid 'sunshine' yellow casing. "We might need to go shopping tomorrow." You say carefully.

"What the fuck for?" he asks.

You make sure you're at a safe distance, like the kitchen before telling him that he doesn't have anything in his wardrobe that matches the casing.

Well look at that you wound up sleeping on the sofa anyway…