Hunter Clarington (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
blowmywhistle) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
slidingmoments2013-01-04 11:23 pm
blowmywhistle) wrote in slidingmoments2013-01-04 11:23 pm
"I like me so much better when you're naked."
Who: Hunter Clarington, Santana Lopez and (eventually) Sebastian Smyth
What: That awkward moment when... dick
Where: Lopez-Smyth apartment
When: About a week after Santana and Tina's hook up
Hunter had been in Miami for four weeks now, and he still couldn't decide whether he liked it or not. It was a seachange, and yes, there was a sea there with a beach, and heat, and seagulls that shat on things. He had an apartment within walking distance of the beach, but that was something he couldn't utilise yet. He still had more work to do before leisurely walks on the beach could be on his agenda. He had just reached the six month anniversary of his physical treatment following the bad turn of events he had faced in Afghanistan. His first month as a qualified Sergeant and before the calendar had even turned pages, he was in the midst of a battle with the enemy forces where he had to shoot a man dead or be killed himself. It had affected him more than he thought possible... especially when he saved a guy in his troop from death by getting shot through the back into the hip himself during the same battle, only to have the same soldier blown up by a landmine two days later. It left Hunter without the use of his leg and he thought he would be crippled for life. He was given an honourable medical discharge from the forces, but left in a wheelchair and with psychological post-traumatic stress disorder. That was over six months ago now, and it had been a fantastic physical therapist, just newly qualified at the time, by the name of Santana Lopez who had helped him out of the wheelchair and able to walk short distances with the use of a stick now. But it was still very much a work in progress, though Hunter's psychological treatment had began to wane and he fell into a depression, which began to affect his physical development too.
It was when his therapist suggested a move or a change of scenery with a fresh start away from the drab post-service world he had gotten himself into in Washington. He was bemoaning the suggestion to his physical therapist one day when he was being really uncooperative even with her, and it was Santana who suggested Miami for a seachange. She had been considering moving there to start her own business away from the large clinic she had trained with because she had friends there, and suggested that if he made that his new location, she could continue his treatment and it wouldn't be a complete new everything for him. He thought about it for all of a week before he was selling his awful boring bachelor pad he had shoved himself into during his recuperation when he didn't want to go home to Colorado Springs, and with his mother's help, found a bright, airy and sunny beachside apartment that he signed for without even thinking about it. He had been here a month now, and Santana had continued his treatment as promised, though she seemed to tune into his still-low mood during their latest session and invited him back her own new place for a coffee.
He settled at the kitchen table, rubbing at his hip a little when he sat because it was sore from the session and gave her a grateful smile when she brought him his large mug of coffee with chocolate cake. "Chocolate? Better than chicken soup for the soul or something?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.
What: That awkward moment when... dick
Where: Lopez-Smyth apartment
When: About a week after Santana and Tina's hook up
Hunter had been in Miami for four weeks now, and he still couldn't decide whether he liked it or not. It was a seachange, and yes, there was a sea there with a beach, and heat, and seagulls that shat on things. He had an apartment within walking distance of the beach, but that was something he couldn't utilise yet. He still had more work to do before leisurely walks on the beach could be on his agenda. He had just reached the six month anniversary of his physical treatment following the bad turn of events he had faced in Afghanistan. His first month as a qualified Sergeant and before the calendar had even turned pages, he was in the midst of a battle with the enemy forces where he had to shoot a man dead or be killed himself. It had affected him more than he thought possible... especially when he saved a guy in his troop from death by getting shot through the back into the hip himself during the same battle, only to have the same soldier blown up by a landmine two days later. It left Hunter without the use of his leg and he thought he would be crippled for life. He was given an honourable medical discharge from the forces, but left in a wheelchair and with psychological post-traumatic stress disorder. That was over six months ago now, and it had been a fantastic physical therapist, just newly qualified at the time, by the name of Santana Lopez who had helped him out of the wheelchair and able to walk short distances with the use of a stick now. But it was still very much a work in progress, though Hunter's psychological treatment had began to wane and he fell into a depression, which began to affect his physical development too.
It was when his therapist suggested a move or a change of scenery with a fresh start away from the drab post-service world he had gotten himself into in Washington. He was bemoaning the suggestion to his physical therapist one day when he was being really uncooperative even with her, and it was Santana who suggested Miami for a seachange. She had been considering moving there to start her own business away from the large clinic she had trained with because she had friends there, and suggested that if he made that his new location, she could continue his treatment and it wouldn't be a complete new everything for him. He thought about it for all of a week before he was selling his awful boring bachelor pad he had shoved himself into during his recuperation when he didn't want to go home to Colorado Springs, and with his mother's help, found a bright, airy and sunny beachside apartment that he signed for without even thinking about it. He had been here a month now, and Santana had continued his treatment as promised, though she seemed to tune into his still-low mood during their latest session and invited him back her own new place for a coffee.
He settled at the kitchen table, rubbing at his hip a little when he sat because it was sore from the session and gave her a grateful smile when she brought him his large mug of coffee with chocolate cake. "Chocolate? Better than chicken soup for the soul or something?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.