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While they are waiting for a medical droid, Fixer just thinks that he is glad, it was only Boss’ arm that got crushed by the speeder and not his ribs or head or any bones that are protecting more vital body parts.
Boss looks pretty pale, the broken arm— which Fixer securely fixated in brace right after the accident— rests in his lap.
After a few minutes, a 2-1B droid finally enters the room. It goes to work without further explanation, using a medical scanner to assess the condition of Boss’ right forearm.
“It looks like the fracture is more complex. The use of a bone mender would be advisable.”
Boss nods. “Well, I’m here.”
“Good. Please remove everything that is covering your upper body,” the droid sounds before stepping over into the storage area.
Fixer approaches Boss and makes a notion of starting to help him but Boss quickly brushes him off.
“Leave it. I can take it off myself,” Boss says, sharply. Fixer lifts his hands apologetic but doesn’t look the slightest bit intimidated.
Boss attempts to pull his healthy arm out of the sleeve, but the blacks cling to his skin. The next try, Boss takes the end of the sleeve between his teeth and attempts to bend his elbow out of it.
“You’re pathetic,” Fixer notes from where he is leaning against one of the countertops in the back with crossed arms.
Boss rolls his eyes but lets go, eyes Fixer down unimpressed.
“Ne'johaa,” Boss grumbles, but inclines his head in a gesture that tells Fixer to come over.
The slicer pushes himself up from the wall and approaches him cautiously, like Boss is about to snap.
Fixer pushes his fingers under the sleeve cuff and wordlessly helps Boss to free his healthy arm.
“Tell me if I hurt you,” Fixer tells before he is starts extracting Boss’ other arm from the suit. Carefully, Fixer removes the splint before he helps Boss to manoeuvre the top over his head.
Boss supresses a pained cry. Breaking bones always hurts but right now he can almost imagine how the bone fragments are crunching against each other and he hates the image with all his heart.
“Like you could. We break bones every other week,” Boss huffs through clenched teeth.
“We break bones, we don’t shatter them,” Fixer corrects, taking a step back.
“Same thing,” the older comments and lays down on the exam table, watching the medical droid approach with the pain inhibitor hypo.
The droid doesn’t say anything, just administers the hypo and watches while Boss sticks his arm into the bone mender. The hypo relieves the worst of the pain and makes him relax just a little bit.
After the medical droid adjusts the bone mender, he leaves the room again, leaving Boss and Fixer behind in silence.
Fixer snatches the holo chair for himself and pushes away from the desk in the corner, floating over until he turns up next to Boss.
“You can go, you know? I’m good alone,” Boss explains. The whirring of the machine used to intimidate him, but that feeling is only a background noise, now that he fell victim to broken bones as often as he did.
“And watch Scorch and Sev bicker over whatever di’kutla thing they have found? Nah, thanks,” Fixer kicks up his legs to rest on the medical table and pulls out his datapad.
When Boss turns his head a little, he can watch the slicer work on the mission report. At least that is something he won’t have to take care of later.
In Boss’ experience, the mending of a broken bone takes around 30 minutes. In addition to a long nap to recover from the physical stress, or so Fixer has told him.
After over an hour, the bone mender is still working. It makes Boss wonder if that thing is already anywhere close to finishing and how much longer he will be stuck here. The exam table is getting uncomfortable slowly.
It takes another few minutes before pain creeps back into the forefront of Boss’ mind. It isn’t the same bone crunching pain as before, this feels more like a deep, bruising pressure that threatens to crush his arm once again.
“Hey Fix?” He asks.
Fixer hums and nods but doesn’t look up from the datapad. He rakes a hand through his hair, a gesture of focus.
“How long do these things need?”
Only now does Fixer seem to notice the progressing time. He frowns and gets up, stepping around the table.
Boss watches the slicer touch the display of the bone mender a few times. It beeps a few times, and Boss really hopes that Fixer isn’t just messing up his arm or anything like that.
“It seems that the bone mender can only give a rough estimation based on your scanner pictures and the already made progress, but the estimation is another hour before the mending is done.
Boss frowns and turns his head away with a huff. Great, another hour of this aaray.
“Is the pain returning?” Fixer inquires.
Boss stays quiet for a moment before he determinately turns his head again to look Fixer in the eyes.
“Should it?” He grits out.
Fixer rolls his eyes, already used to the stubbornness of his vod. He approaches the cabinets and starts digging through one of them.
Boss frowns at Fixer’s actions. He can already feel the trouble coming at them.
“I can give you some more pain meds,” Fixer suggests when he returns to Boss’ side with a hypo in his hand.
“Fixer, put that back,” Boss states and lets a little bit of his command tone slip into his voice.
“Relax. I’ll adjust the inventory status before we leave. Noone will notice,” Fixer brushes him off and holds the hypo up, looking at Boss expectingly.
Boss sighs and rubs his forehead with his free hand. “Fine.”
Fixer tilts the other’s head to the side gently before placing the hypo against his neck. He doesn’t give a warning before the injection, but Boss doesn’t care because the pain fades immediately and his strained muscles melt against the table.
“You steal medical supplies often?” Boss asks.
“I don’t steal.” Fixer pets his shoulder. Boss attempts to swat the hand away but his movements are pretty sluggish already.
“I’m merely avoiding long request and distribution processes.”
Boss would care way more about Fixer’s criminal streak if he had more energy right now. Is this the treatment that is tiring him out or…
“Fixer, did you drug me?” Boss accuses. His vision is swimming just a little. That osik’ovid.
“Just something to help the pain. But a little rest would do you good,” Fixer smiles mildly before he sits back down in the holo chair. He looks smugly satisfied.
Boss thinks about complaining for a second but figures that he can back at Fixer later.
“Don’t steal any more meds,” Boss says, annoyed, before he closes his eyes and relaxes his body.
“No promises, Sir. We are pretty low on antibiotics,” Fixer chuckles.
Boss mentally groans.