Angela Louella Ashwood (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
americanskin) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
dreamlikenewyork2016-06-24 06:12 pm
americanskin) wrote in dreamlikenewyork2016-06-24 06:12 pm
"I got you, babe."
Who: Angela Ashwood and Clint Chevalier
What: Desperate times call for desperate measures
Where: Clint's place, NYC
When: Friday morning
As much as they wished things would stop being so stressful, they just weren't. Not yet. It was too soon. What that meant was the Lincoln was still very much recovering, and because of that, he still needed a lot of help and care from Clint. The knock-on effect of that was that Clint was exhausted. He was doing his absolute best and Lincoln was his Number One priority with everything. But his stress and worry had caused insomnia, which had caused him to fall asleep at the wheel and crash his car. Then, a few weeks later, Lincoln had developed an infection in his stomach and got quite sick, passing out on the bathroom floor. At the time, Clint had been crashed out in a deep sleep because he finally bit the bullet and took the prescribed sleeping pills. Lincoln was left feeling like it was all too much for Clint to handle, and Clint was left feeling like he was failing at caring for his husband.
That's why it was time to call for back-up. Angela had come up with the idea of getting a big place they could all live together, which would give Clint extra help if he needed it. They would all still have their own lives, but they were a family and families were supposed to stick together in times of need. This was one hell of a time of need... but she knew how hard it would be for Clint because he wasn't used to needing help of this level. He was always used to being in complete control of everything. It had all slipped out of his hands when Lincoln had been stabbed and nearly murdered.
That morning was a perfect example and Angela knew it was time to sit Clint down and talk. Lincoln had a few appointments at the hospital with doctors and physiotherapists that morning, but Clint had been up all through the night with a bad migraine. Lincoln had called Emily first thing and asked if she could take him to his appointment because Clint was knocked down with the migraine. Emily agreed without hesitation, of course. But it led to her and Angela having a quiet conversation in bed before they got up about it being time to talk to Clint about this suggestion. Instead of bombarding him, they decided Angela was the best to talk to him. They had an open and honest, yet very close, relationship. Angela was one of the few people who could talk to Clint on a different level.
Emily had bundled Lincoln up to take him to the hospital, fussing over him and him letting her. Twin prerogative. Angela waited a little while before Clint surfaced from the bedroom looking now unlike the walking dead. She went straight over to him and wrapped her arms around him in a secure hug, rubbing his back. "When did you last puke? You probably need some fluids. Are you up to eating? I can make you a bit of toast and a cuppa," she offered quietly and pulled back to kiss him on the forehead.
What: Desperate times call for desperate measures
Where: Clint's place, NYC
When: Friday morning
As much as they wished things would stop being so stressful, they just weren't. Not yet. It was too soon. What that meant was the Lincoln was still very much recovering, and because of that, he still needed a lot of help and care from Clint. The knock-on effect of that was that Clint was exhausted. He was doing his absolute best and Lincoln was his Number One priority with everything. But his stress and worry had caused insomnia, which had caused him to fall asleep at the wheel and crash his car. Then, a few weeks later, Lincoln had developed an infection in his stomach and got quite sick, passing out on the bathroom floor. At the time, Clint had been crashed out in a deep sleep because he finally bit the bullet and took the prescribed sleeping pills. Lincoln was left feeling like it was all too much for Clint to handle, and Clint was left feeling like he was failing at caring for his husband.
That's why it was time to call for back-up. Angela had come up with the idea of getting a big place they could all live together, which would give Clint extra help if he needed it. They would all still have their own lives, but they were a family and families were supposed to stick together in times of need. This was one hell of a time of need... but she knew how hard it would be for Clint because he wasn't used to needing help of this level. He was always used to being in complete control of everything. It had all slipped out of his hands when Lincoln had been stabbed and nearly murdered.
That morning was a perfect example and Angela knew it was time to sit Clint down and talk. Lincoln had a few appointments at the hospital with doctors and physiotherapists that morning, but Clint had been up all through the night with a bad migraine. Lincoln had called Emily first thing and asked if she could take him to his appointment because Clint was knocked down with the migraine. Emily agreed without hesitation, of course. But it led to her and Angela having a quiet conversation in bed before they got up about it being time to talk to Clint about this suggestion. Instead of bombarding him, they decided Angela was the best to talk to him. They had an open and honest, yet very close, relationship. Angela was one of the few people who could talk to Clint on a different level.
Emily had bundled Lincoln up to take him to the hospital, fussing over him and him letting her. Twin prerogative. Angela waited a little while before Clint surfaced from the bedroom looking now unlike the walking dead. She went straight over to him and wrapped her arms around him in a secure hug, rubbing his back. "When did you last puke? You probably need some fluids. Are you up to eating? I can make you a bit of toast and a cuppa," she offered quietly and pulled back to kiss him on the forehead.
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The pain in his head was there when he woke up about 11pm, and it wouldn't let up. It felt like he had been stabbed in the head, through his skull and penetrated deep into his brain, all on one side. There were flashing lights in his eyes that affected his vision, and the nausea bad enough to keep making him sick. Lincoln worried about him, which made it even worse. Clint never wanted to be counterproductive to Lincoln's recovery. Angela's hug was accepted and appreciated. "Um, about eight-ish. Just after Linc's alarm went off," he mumbled and stepped back to rubbed the heels of his hands in against his eyes. The pain had abated, but it took awhile for him to feel better. "Maybe tea or some shit. I dunno about the toast."
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